Chapter 5 The choice

Beneath Eluwon – The Temple of Oju-Ale

Amara stood frozen before the statue, the book glowing faintly in her hands.

Zainab whispered, "It's calling you."

"No," Amara said, stepping back. "It's using me."

But the stone hands of Oju-Ale continued to shift - now slowly forming a circle with open palms. Between them, light began to swirl, revealing a mirror of flame.

Amara looked into it.

She saw herself - but not as she was.

Her reflection stood taller. Dark robes. Fire in her eyes. Surrounded by shadows kneeling at her feet.

Zainab grabbed her arm. "Snap out of it!"

The mirror shattered - and Amara collapsed.

Chuka was still locked in the binding circle. The chalk lines flickered with energy - but he wasn't struggling anymore.

He sat cross-legged, whispering a chant under his breath.

Tola's Bible lay beside him.

Suddenly... the window opened by itself.

And the woman in black stepped through.

But this time - she had a face.

Tola's face.

Blank. Soulless. Eyes hollow.

Chuka backed away, trembling. "No... no no no..."

The woman spoke in two voices - Tola's and something deeper.

"You traded a soul. Now carry the guilt.

She touched his forehead - and Chuka began to scream.

Amara woke with a jolt. The book still in her lap. Pages now turned to the final prophecy When the fire-blood awakens, she must choose:

Be the key... or break the chain."

Zainab leaned over. "It wants you to open something."

Amara looked around. "What chain?"

Suddenly, the ground shook.

The walls cracked.

And from the shadows... four figures stepped into the light.

Each wore a robe. Each carried a feather. One of them held a mask.

They spoke in unison:

She must choose now.

Seal the gate... or inherit it."

Amara stood.

"I choose neither," she said.

She raised her hand.

And this time - she didn't hold back.

Flames burst from her palm, swirling in a spiral.

The robed figures scattered.

The entire chamber began to collapse.

Zainab grabbed her arm. "Amara, the gate-!"

But Amara closed her eyes.

And said a word her grandmother had taught her only once:

"Njikọ." (To bind)

The sun finally rose.

The whispers had stopped.

The chalk circle in Chuka's room was burnt blacck buut Chuka was gone.

Only a charred feather remained.

Zainab walked quietly, her hair loose for the first time.

Amara sat by the hostel window, a wrapped object in her lapthe spellbook, now sealed in cloth and marked with protective sigils.

Tola's Bible sat on the table. Closed.

Victor's football jersey had been folded and placed by the door.

Too many had been lost.

Too many truths had been buried.

But one thing was clear:

The seal had not been broken.

Yet

Block D was quiet now.

No whispers.

No footsteps.

No scratches in the wall.

Students came and went like nothing had happened.

The university issued no statement about the disappearances.

Victor, Tola, and Chuka were listed as "voluntarily withdrawn."

No further questions allowed. No memorials. No rumors. Only silence.

But in Room 8, Amara Okezie sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the sealed spellbook.

Zainab stood by the window, watching the sun bleed into the sky.

"It's not over, is it?" Amara asked.

Zainab shook her head slowly. "No. You just delayed it. Maybe ten years. Maybe less."

Amara sighed, fingers tightening around the book. "Then what was the point?"

Zainab turned to her, voice steady. "The point was choice. Power without choice is a prison. But you chose not to open the gate - even when everything in you could've."

Amara was silent for a long time.

Then, softly: "She came to me... in a dream last night. The woman."

Zainab's gaze sharpened. "What did she say?"

Amara looked up. "She said, 'You are the gate. One day, you will call me by name.'"

A cold wind brushed past them, though the windows were shut.

That afternoon, Amara visited the university archives again.

Not the hidden ones - the official ones, open to all, yet rarely explored.

She searched for Ijeoma Okezie.

Her grandmother.

There it was: a black-and-white photograph. Faded edges. Smiling faces.

Five young women in uniform, seated on the grass.

In the background: a shadowy wall, overgrown with vines.

One girl held a feather in her hand.

At the bottom, in fading cursive ink:

> "The first ones who sealed her - we four.

But one betrayed.

She was never truly gone."

Amara's eyes locked onto the girl with the feather.

It was her - the woman in black. The monster from the veil.

But now Amara saw something else. Something terrible.

She looked just like Amara.

The same curve of the jaw. The same defiant stare.

A mirror from the past.

She hadn't just been a monster.

She had been a student.

A girl.

A choice.

Just like Amara.

End.