**Chapter Nine: The Veil is Torn**
306 Words
The red moon rose like a big eye without a lid, wide open and bleeding.
It cast Umuaka in a strange crimson light, turning familiar paths into ghostly trails and making shadows stretch and sway as if they were alive.
In the village square, there were no drums, no kids playing. The elders sat quietly before their shrines, while the chickens stayed silent and the dogs didn't bark.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Awele stood alone in her yard, the Spiral on her chest glowing brightly. It pulsed like it was paying attention to the sky.
Toba approached her, wide-eyed. “It’s happening,” he said.
She nodded. “The veil is getting thinner.”
“How long do we have?”
Awele glanced past him toward the forest. “Not long. I sense them moving. Spirits, shadows, memories that shouldn't be here.”
“You think they’ll come through?”
She looked him in the eye. “They already are.”
---
In the hours that followed, the first signs appeared.
A baby called its dad’s name in a deep voice, then forgot how to cry.
A river turned black for five minutes and flowed the wrong way.
Papa Chidi collapsed at the shrine, shaking and mumbling, “She’s here. She’s back. The gate is opening.”
That evening, Awele went to see him. His face looked haggard, and his skin was marked with spirals made from ash.
He took her hand.
> “Flamekeeper,” he whispered. “There were once seven of you. You’re the last. If the gate opens fully… we won’t survive.”
She asked, “Where is it? The gate?”
He coughed, blood on his lips. “It’s not a place. It’s a choice.”
Then he went quiet.
And the Spiral on her chest flared.
- Writer
