The night it happened, wind screamed around Azure Sky's peaks.
A storm rolled in from the east, black clouds boiling over the sect's formations. Lightning flashed, jagged and white; thunder cracked.
Disciples hurried to secure loose tiles and shutter windows. Servants raced to move laundry and herbs under shelter.
In the Archive, Elder Wei grumbled as rain pattered against the shutters.
"Old bones hate damp," he muttered. "Tie that window tighter, girl; if water gets in on this shelf, ten generations of idiots will cry."
Xiao‑lan obeyed, lashing the shutter closed with a rope.
Her hand throbbed inside its knot.
The hunger fragment squirmed.
So did something else.
ALERT:
Cross‑World Anchor Surge Detected (Ayétórò).
Pattern: Devouring Gospel Invocation – Major.
Local Resonance: High (storm energy).
Recommended: Stabilize self. Observe. Do not engage directly.
Lightning flared again.
For a heartbeat, the white flash behind her eyelids became something else:
Firelight.
Mud walls.
Ajani's hut.
He stood at the center, arms spread, cracked stone clutched in both burned palms.
Around him, a circle of villagers knelt—faces gaunt, eyes desperate. Some she remembered, others vague.
"Tonight," Ajani shouted, voice raw, "we take back! No more begging! No more waiting! We call what eats us and make it eat our enemies first!"
Baba's voice roared distantly, trying to drown him out.
"Stop!"
He was too far.
The hunger surged.
Yes, it purred. Call. Feed. I will oblige.
Power poured through the cracked altar tooth in Òkìtì, along the under‑river path, into Ajani's shard.
He slammed his hands down.
Names flared.
Not just one.
Dozens.
Threads ripped from curses, from jealousies, from every "I hope he rots" ever spat in the village. They whipped into a funnel over the stone, coalescing into a dark orb.
Ajani laughed, half mad.
Lightning in Azure Sky replied.
Qi roiled.
Xiao‑lan staggered.
"Elder," she gasped, clutching her head.
Wei's brush froze.
He felt it too.
"Law tremor," he said grimly. "Far. Not ours. Yet."
The System threw up a barrier of Script.
Protective Isolation Engaged.
Filtering cross‑world interference.
It wasn't enough.
Her dual‑anchored name vibrated between bowls.
She saw Ayetoro's baobab split by phantom fissures.
Saw the queen‑mother standing under it, arms wide, chanting old words.
Saw Baba trace spirals in blood on new stones, shouting across worlds:
"Ifa, hold the path! River, bridge the sky! Child, listen!"
His voice crashed through the storm in her skull.
"Ifabola!" he cried.
Her heart lurched.
"Baba," she whispered.
Wei's head snapped toward her.
"You hear him?" he demanded.
"Yes," she gasped. "And him."
The him was not Baba.
It was the hunger, roaring in triumph.
Little door, it snarled. Look how easily they open!
In Ajani's hut, the dark orb bulged.
A claw emerged.
Not physical.
An outline of dripping letters.
The villagers screamed but did not move; their own oaths pinned them.
Baba sprinted.
Too slow.
Xiao‑lan's knot burned white‑hot.
Emergency Option:
– Attempt Cross‑World Message Injection
– Cost: Name‑Thread Strain (Severe).
– Benefit: Minimal chance to alter ritual.
"Do it," she rasped.
The System did.
It grabbed her No.
Her Stop.
Her memory of Kike's still body.
Of Dupe's grave.
Of Mama Ireti's sacrifice.
It wove them into a single, sharp concept: REFUSAL.
Then it hurled that knot along the same crack Ajani had opened.
For a heartbeat, Ifabola was everywhere:
In the Archive, clutching a table.
In Ajani's hut, a ghost of a child glaring at the stone.
By the river in Ayetoro, standing beside her own grave.
Her refusal slammed into the orb.
The claw jerked.
The letters blurred.
Baba's spiral caught, latching onto the hesitation.
"By names not yet eaten," he roared, "by debts not yet counted—I speak!"
New marks blazed across the air in Ayetoro's language, overlaying the demonic script.
The orb shrieked.
Ajani howled.
The power he had tried to channel bucked.
Instead of slamming outward into the village as a full Devouring Avatar, it imploded partially, sucking only some of the gathered threads into itself.
The rest scattered like sparks.
Two men nearest the stone dropped dead.
Others convulsed.
The hut's roof exploded outward.
Ajani was flung against the far wall, consciousness snapping.
In the Archive, Xiao‑lan screamed.
Her body convulsed.
"She's seizing!" Ruo shrieked from the doorway.
Wei slapped a talisman onto Xiao‑lan's forehead, anchoring her qi.
"Shen!" he bellowed. "Hua! We have a Law incident!"
Shen burst in moments later, robes flapping, Zhou Yuan on his heels.
He took one look at Xiao‑lan's glowing palm and grimaced.
"Idiot child," he muttered. "What did you grab?"
"Too…much," she gasped, every nerve on fire. "Ajani…hut…stone…"
Words tumbled out in Yoruba.
None of them understood.
Wei grabbed a blank scroll.
"Talk," he snapped. "Language doesn't matter. The Script will catch." He scribbled even as she babbled, the ink forming shapes not quite matching her syllables.
The System, overloaded, seized the chance.
Cross‑World Data Transfer: PARTIAL.
Content: Ajani's ritual pattern, altar configuration, Queen‑mother's counter‑chants.
Recipient: Ifabola (local); secondary echoes: Baba (Ayétórò), Elder Wei (Heavenly Realm through emergent script).
Her mind felt like torn cloth being stitched with hot wire.
Then—suddenly—the pressure dropped.
The storm outside eased.
The hunger hissed, clearly displeased.
Twice now, it seethed. You spoil my meals.
Xiao‑lan spat blood.
"If you're hungry," she croaked, "eat your own tail."
Dark laughter echoed.
Then faded.
She slumped.
Name‑Thread Strain: Critical – 73%.
Emergency Stabilization: Required.
"Don't you dare die," Wei snarled.
He pressed his hand over her heart.
His qi sank in, careful and thin, knitting frayed lines.
Shen and Hua arrived, pouring cool Law energy around the thrashing edges of her System, smoothing spikes, dampening wild overtures.
"External link?" Hua asked through gritted teeth.
"Yes," Shen said. "Not demonic. That thing again."
Wei's brush scribbled faster.
"Child just gave us its ritual signature," he hissed. "Through a seizure. I told you Archive brats were useful."
Xiao‑lan heard none of it.
She fell into a gray place.
Not the halfway river.
A waiting room between bowls.
Far below, she saw Ayetoro's river.
Far above, Azure Sky's mountain streams.
Between them, a knot of threads—hers—glowing dangerously.
A familiar, cool presence appeared beside her.
"You almost snapped," the river‑lady said.
"Almost…isn't," Ifabola croaked.
"Yet," the goddess said. "You threw a refusal across two laws. Brave. Foolish. Effective."
"Did it…help?" she whispered.
"Yes," the goddess said. "The avatar shrank. The village did not fall today. Your father impressed me."
Pride flared through the fog.
"He felt me," Ifabola mumbled.
"He screamed your name into three heavens," the goddess said wryly. "Half my cousins complained about the noise."
Ifabola laughed weakly.
"Will…he know I didn't die?" she asked.
"He will feel your thread," the goddess said. "Frayed. Not cut."
She flicked her forehead.
"Do not tug so hard again without warning," she added. "I nearly spilled half a river catching you."
"I'll…try," Ifabola murmured.
No promises, some stubborn part of her added silently.
The goddess sighed.
"You are his child," she said.
She woke to the smell of pungent herbs and burnt talisman ash.
Voices murmured nearby.
"—alive?" Jun's voice, high and anxious.
"Barely," Wei grunted.
"Her Name‑Thread is…patched," Hua said. "For now. Law hates cross‑world meddling. It will push back harder next time."
"If there is a next time," Guo growled. "We should lock her in a cave."
"That would not stop him from pulling," Shen said quietly. "Only keep her blind. Blind knots are worse than none."
Xiao‑lan opened her eyes.
The rafters of a different room loomed above—a Law Hall treatment chamber, lined with jade inlays.
"Still here," she croaked.
Jun let out a strangled sob.
Ruo smacked his arm.
"Don't cry over archive rats," she sniffed, wiping her own eyes.
Wei leaned over her.
"You're banned from seizures for one month," he said. "Law's order."
"Can't…promise," she whispered.
He snorted.
Hua stepped into her line of sight.
"Child," she said, voice like cool water, "next time you feel that thing tug, you tell us before hurling your will at it. Understood?"
"Yes," Xiao‑lan said. "But…if I hadn't…?"
"A village might be ash," Hua said bluntly. "We are not ungrateful. We are also not eager to scrape your soul off the Dao's wall."
Shen's eyes softened.
"You did well," he said. "Reckless, but well."
Her System pulsed weakly.
Cross‑World Message: SENT (Partial).
Name‑Weaving EXP: +40.
New Trait: [Stretched Thread] – Increased tolerance for cross‑realm strain (slight).
Her head pounded.
But beneath the pain, something else glowed:
A tiny sense of Baba's presence, now more clearly threaded into her awareness.
She closed her eyes.
"Baba," she whispered across bowls.
Somewhere, under another sky, he paused mid‑chant.
Smiled through tears.
"Ọmọ mi," he whispered. "Walk carefully. I am coming."