The car ride began in an unsettling quiet environment. Sweet sat behind the wheel, his expression unreadable, his grip tight on the steering wheel. Zara and Koji occupied the back seats, their usual banter replaced by a subdued silence, a reflection of the palpable tension that hung in the air. I glanced at Sweet, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach. This wasn't the route we usually took.
"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice betraying a hint of apprehension.
Sweet didn't meet my gaze, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "We're taking a detour," he said, his voice flat. "There's someone I need you to meet."
"Who?" I pressed, but he offered no further explanation, only a curt shake of his head. The lack of information only amplified my anxiety. The change of route felt...shady. It went into a steeper slope.
Despite the trepidation, a strange sense of calm settled over me. Perhaps it was the presence of my companions, the familiar comfort of their company, or maybe it was simply the resignation that came with knowing I had little control over the situation. Whatever the reason, I found myself relaxing, trusting Sweet to guide us where we needed to be.
The paved road gave way to a rough, uneven track, the car bouncing and jostling as we descended a steep-sided slope. The landscape transformed, the futuristic cityscape of Noekyota fading into a vista of lush, verdant foliage. Towering trees crowded the path, their branches intertwined, creating a canopy that filtered the sunlight into dappled patterns on the ground. The air grew thick with the scent of damp earth and exotic flowers.
Finally, the car lurched to a halt before a three-story building that seemed to have sprung from the very earth itself. It wasn't the sleek, minimalist architecture of Noekyota, but something far older, far more profound. The building was constructed from a dark, reddish stone, its surface covered in intricate carvings that told a story of a time long past. They looked beautiful
"Where are we?" I breathed, my eyes wide with awe.
"This," Sweet said, a hint of reverence in his voice, "is a place where traditions are protected."
The doors were massive, crafted from thick, ancient wood, stained a deep, resonant red. The carvings that adorned them were even more elaborate than those on the building itself. Scenes of kings and coronations, battles and triumphs, unfolded across the surface, a visual tapestry of the Bini kingdom, now known as Noekyota. Each stroke of the chisel, each curve and line, spoke of a proud and powerful people, a legacy etched in stone.
I recognized some of the figures, characters from the stories Sweet had shared with us, tales of powerful warriors and wise rulers. The attention to detail was astounding, the faces of the figures rendered with remarkable precision and emotion. It was like stepping back in time, entering a world where legends walked and history lived.
As we approached the entrance, I could feel the weight of the past pressing down on me, the echoes of generations whispering on the wind.
Sweet stepped forward and placed his hand on the door, his touch almost reverent. "Ready?" he asked, turning to face us.
We nodded, our expressions a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. With a slow, deliberate motion, Sweet pushed open the massive doors, revealing the interior of the building.
I had expected to find a sterile, clinical environment, perhaps filled with old men and women in white coats, the kind of setting I associated with native doctors. After all, Sweet had only mentioned that he will be introducing me to one.
But what I found was something entirely different, something far more vibrant and unexpected. The entrance hall was a riot of color and life. Women, dressed in
traditional Bini attire, filled the space, attending to patients with a gentle and attentive demeanor. Their red wrappers, intricately woven with geometric patterns, created a sea of scarlet that contrasted sharply with the cool, stone walls. White chalk marks adorned their faces, intricate designs that resembled tattoos, symbols of their heritage and their connection to the ancient traditions.
Despite the antiquated clothing, there was nothing primitive about these women. Their movements were graceful and efficient, their expressions intelligent and compassionate. They were clearly skilled healers, deeply respected by the people they served.
"This isn't exactly what I expected," I murmured to Sweet, my voice laced with surprise.
Sweet smiled faintly. "Tradition takes many forms," he said. "These women are the keepers of ancient knowledge, healers who draw upon the power of the earth and the wisdom of their ancestors."
As we walked deeper into the building, I couldn't help but admire the Solstice pieces of art that lined the corridors. Clay engravings, depicting scenes from various legends, adorned the walls, each one a testament to the artistic skill and cultural richness of the Bini people. The carvings were incredibly detailed, capturing the essence of the stories with remarkable precision. Warriors clashed in epic battles, mythical creatures soared through the skies, and wise elders imparted their knowledge to eager students.
We passed through several rooms, each one more fascinating than the last. One room was filled with shelves overflowing with herbs and medicinal plants, their earthy aroma filling the air. Another room contained a collection of ancient artifacts, tools and weapons that spoke of a proud and resilient people.
Finally, we stopped before a large, wooden door, its surface unadorned save for a simple, brass handle. I turned to Sweet, my brow furrowed in question.
"Why are we stopping here?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
Sweet placed his hand on the handle, his expression serious. "This is where you'll meet him," he said, his voice low. "The one who holds the key to understanding your past."
"Who?" Zara asked. "He's not gonna do something weird right?"
Sweet gave Zara a quick glance. "No but he might say some things that might be hard to hear. So please bare with him and be respectful," he answered
Before I could ask another question, the door swung open, revealing a figure that seemed to embody the very spirit of Noekyota. An old man stepped out, his presence radiating an aura of wisdom and authority. He was dressed in a simple white top and skirt, the traditional attire of a Bini chief. Across the front of his shirt, two crossed swords were emblazoned, a symbol of his lineage and his unwavering commitment to protecting his people.
His face was etched with the lines of age, each wrinkle a testament to a life lived in service to his community. His eyes, though clouded with time, still held a spark of intelligence and a deep sense of compassion. He looked like someone who had witnessed both the triumphs and the tragedies of his people, someone who carried the weight of their history on his shoulders.
As I gazed upon him, I knew that this was no ordinary man. This was a guardian of traditions, a keeper of secrets, a leader who had dedicated his life to preserving the Bini dynasty.
"Greetings, Sweet," the old man said, his voice deep and resonant. "I have been expecting you." He then turns to face me and says, "and you must be the one that needs healing."
Sweet bowed his head respectfully. "Chief," he replied, "it is an honor to be in your presence."
The old man gestured for us to enter, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made me feel as though he could see into my very soul. "Come," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "Let us speak of things that have long been hidden."
I exchanged a nervous glance with Zara and Koji, then stepped forward, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew definitely that this meeting was about to change everything and he was definitely the builder of this Museum Hospital cause it looked like one to me.