The horizon blazed with the last hues of sunset as we walked onward. In that threshold between day and night, when the sky deepened to indigo and the first stars emerged, I felt the weight of twilight in my bones. Eventide, I thought—the hour of shadows.
We moved in silence along a narrow footpath through the tall grass. Each blade brushed against my legs. Amina walked a few steps ahead, spear in hand, and Jabari guarded the rear. Under Nyos's looming threat, even a gentle dusk hid unseen dangers.
I tried to sense the presence of my ancestors as we traveled. Often at twilight I could hear faint echoes of their wisdom—my grandmother's lullabies or an elder's counsel in the wind. But tonight, only silence. A hush had fallen over land and spirit alike, as if even those beyond the veil held their breath. A prickling unease crept over me, like the charged air before a storm. Nyos was stirring, and the balance of the cosmos tilted under his influence.
A warm shiver ran through me despite the heat. I glanced up. Near the crescent moon, a single star glowed red and erratic. I didn't recall that star before. When a star dances out of rhythm, the universe pays heed, an old saying went. For an instant it flared like a crimson eye staring down. I shut my eyes, and when I looked again, the star was just a star.
"What is it, Obasi?" Amina asked gently, glancing back. Even in darkness I could see concern on her face.
I realized I had halted. "The sky… something feels wrong," I murmured, barely above a whisper.
Jabari stepped up beside me, following my gaze. "It's just another night," he said, attempting nonchalance. But I heard the strain in his voice. He sensed the uncanny stillness as clearly as I did.
Night fully settled around us. Eventually, crickets chirped and a lone night bird cooed in the distance, but even those familiar sounds were hushed. We walked on, closer together now, our eyes scanning the gloom.
I remembered the villagers we met earlier that day speaking of nightmares, whispering Nyos's name in fear. They looked to me for hope, but doubt clouded their eyes. I silently shared their doubt.
A proverb from my mother came to me: "However long the night, the dawn will break." I whispered it, clinging to its promise.
"Dawn will come," Amina echoed softly, having heard me. "Nyos feeds on fear. We won't give it to him." Her resolve steadied me.
Jabari rolled his shoulder as if shaking off the dread. "Let Nyos come then," he muttered. "He'll find us ready." His bravado brought a tiny smile to my lips. That was Jabari—defiant even when fear gnawed at us all.
Despite everything, I felt gratitude for my companions. Alone, I might have been overwhelmed by the encroaching darkness. Together, we shared courage—three strands of rope braided into one unbreakable bond.
We crested a small rise and spotted our destination: a grove of massive baobab trees silhouetted against the starry sky. We aimed to camp under those ancient giants for the night and pray for guidance. If ever I needed the ancestors' wisdom, it was now.
Suddenly, Amina stopped and raised her hand. We froze. At first I heard nothing beyond the thrum of insects. Then—a rustling in the grass off to our left. Not the wind. My pulse kicked in my throat.
Jabari silently drew his sword. I felt Amina tense. Slowly, I touched the carved obsidian talisman at my neck, seeking comfort in its familiar warmth.
A low growl emanated from the darkness, and a pair of amber eyes glinted between the grasses. A hyena crept into a moonbeam, shoulders low and teeth bared. Hyenas seldom confront humans, but this one's stare was fearless and cruel.
My heart lurched — the creature's outline flickered unnaturally, cloaked in a dark aura. Nyos's touch was on it.
With a chilling cackle, it lunged at Amina.
Amina braced her spear, but Jabari hurled himself into the beast's path. Man and hyena collided with bone-jarring force; the beast's fangs sank into Jabari's forearm even as his blade cut into its flank. He cried out in pain.
Fear and fury surged through me. I thrust out my left hand, reaching for the power stirring in my blood. Warm energy bloomed in my palm, bright as a small sun. Guided by instinct and ancestral memory, I flung that light at the writhing shadow.
A beam of golden light struck the hyena and blasted it off Jabari. It hit the ground with a yelp and, with an almost human scream, whirled and fled into the tall grass, vanishing into the night.
Silence fell again. My arm was still raised; wisps of light swirled off my fingertips and faded. I panted, adrenaline pounding in my ears.
Jabari was hunched in the trampled grass, clutching his injured arm. Blood darkened his sleeve. Amina was already by his side, wrapping a strip of cloth around the wound.
"No," I agreed, kneeling to help staunch the bleeding. The coppery scent of blood mixed with a foul odor left in the hyena's wake. Nyos had drawn first blood tonight. This was no distant threat—it was here, pressing against us in flesh and shadow.
"We have to go," Amina urged. We hauled Jabari up between us. He bit back a groan as we hurried toward the baobab grove. Every rustle in the grass set my nerves on edge, but nothing followed.
At last we staggered beneath the ancient baobabs. A subtle pressure lifted from my chest as if an unseen barrier now stood between us and the evil outside. The ancestors' presence felt strong here.
Amina eased Jabari down against a massive trunk. He exhaled in pain and relief.
I knelt beside Jabari and whispered a prayer of thanks that we had survived this first test. We were bloodied and shaken, yet unbroken.
The night was far from over—Nyos's shadow still lurked beyond our circle of ancient trees. But for now, we had a brief sanctuary. We had met the darkness and endured. Whatever came next, we would face it as one.