A stranger in the Attic

Chapter 2

Emmanuel's eyes gleamed with excitement as he recounted his journey into the murky waters of university politics. He had been a young, idealistic undergraduate, passionate about making a difference. But the more he became embroiled in the Students' Union Government, the more he realized that the game was rigged.

He remembered the sleek, well-dressed seniors who had taken him under their wing, teaching him the ropes and showing him the secrets of the trade. There was "Dollar" Dairo, the suave and charismatic leader who had a charm that could disarm even the toughest of opponents. "Pounds" Peters, the burly and affable deputy president, who had a talent for making people laugh and a knack for getting what he wanted. And "Euros" Egwu, the soft-spoken but fiercely intelligent secretary-general, who had a way of making complex ideas seem simple.

Together, they had formed a formidable team, with Emmanuel as their protege. They had swept through the campus like a storm, leaving a trail of excitement and anticipation in their wake. But behind the scenes, Emmanuel began to realize that the Benjamins were the real driving force. The money, the power, the influence - it was all about the Benjamins.

As he delved deeper into the world of university politics, Emmanuel encountered a cast of characters who were all vying for power and position. There was "Senator" Sola, the wily and experienced vice president who had a talent for manipulation. The beautiful and charming "First Lady" Funmi, who had a way of getting what she wanted from the boys. And the enigmatic "Professor X", who seemed to know more than he was letting on.

Despite the excitement and thrill of it all, Emmanuel couldn't shake off the feeling that something was off. The game was rigged, and he was just a pawn in their play. But he played along, oh yes... he played along, thinking he could outsmart them, outmanoeuvre them...

The cultists struck when Emmanuel least expected it. He was walking back to his hostel one night, lost in thought, when suddenly he was surrounded by a group of masked figures. They were dressed in black, their faces hidden behind scarves, and their eyes gleaming with an otherworldly intensity.

"Emmanuel, you have been chosen," one of them hissed, their voice low and menacing. "You have shown great potential in the realm of politics. We will teach you the true meaning of power."

Emmanuel tried to struggle, but they were too strong. They dragged him away, deep into the night, and he knew he was in grave danger. The last thing he remembered was the sound of their chanting, their voices rising and falling in a haunting rhythm.

When Emmanuel came to, he was in a strange room, surrounded by the same masked figures. They were sitting in a circle, their eyes fixed on him, and their hands clasped together in a prayer-like gesture.

"Welcome, Emmanuel," one of them said, their voice dripping with sinister intent. "We are the ones who have been guiding you on your journey. We are the ones who will teach you the secrets of true power."

Emmanuel knew then that he was in the clutches of a dangerous cult. He knew that he had to escape, but he also knew that it wouldn't be easy. The cultists had him right where they wanted him, and they would stop at nothing to keep him in their grasp.

The cultists began to chant and sway, their eyes fixed on Emmanuel. He felt a strange sensation wash over him, as if his mind was being pulled apart. The chanting grew louder and more intense, and Emmanuel felt himself being drawn into a trance-like state.

One of the cultists, a tall, imposing figure with glowing red eyes, stepped forward. He held a small, ornate box in his hand, and Emmanuel felt an inexplicable pull towards it.

"Look into the box, Emmanuel," the cultist hissed. "Look into the box and see your destiny."

Emmanuel's eyes were fixed on the box, his mind reeling with a mix of fear and fascination. The cultist opened the box, revealing a swirling vortex of colours and lights. Emmanuel felt himself being drawn into the vortex, his mind being pulled apart and reassembled.

He saw visions of himself as a powerful leader, a king, a god. He saw himself wielding immense power and control, bending the world to his will. The visions were intoxicating, seductive, and Emmanuel knew he was being hypnotised.

The cultists' chanting grew louder, more intense, and Emmanuel felt his mind slipping further and further under their control. He knew he was in grave danger, but he couldn't resist the pull of the vortex.

As the hypnotism took hold, Emmanuel's mind went dark, and he knew no more.

When Emmanuel came to, he was in a daze. He looked around, trying to remember where he was and how he got there. The cultists were nowhere to be seen, but the room was filled with strange symbols and artifacts. He tried to stand up, but his head was spinning.

Suddenly, he heard a voice in his head. "Emmanuel, you are ours now. You will do our bidding."

He tried to resist, but his mind was foggy. He couldn't think clearly. The voice in his head grew louder, more insistent.

"Emmanuel, you will obey us. You will do our bidding."

He felt a strange sensation, as if his mind was being controlled. He tried to fight back, but it was no use. The hypnotism had taken hold. "Emmanuel, you will rise to power. You will be our puppet, our tool."

He felt himself being pulled towards the voice, towards the cultists' sinister plans. He knew he was in grave danger, but he couldn't resist.

As the voice in his head grew louder, Emmanuel's mind went dark once more. He was trapped in a world of hypnotic control, forced to do the cultists' bidding.

The cultists' leader, a tall and menacing figure, leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with intensity. "Tell us, Emmanuel, about your village. How do we get there?"

Emmanuel hesitated, unsure of what to say. He didn't want to reveal the location of his village, but he knew that resisting would only lead to more pain and suffering.

"It's...it's a small village," he stammered. "In a remote area. You have to take a bus and then walk for hours to get there."

The cultist's eyes narrowed. "What's the name of the village?"

Emmanuel hesitated again, but the cultist's gaze was unyielding. "I...I won't tell you," he said finally, trying to sound defiant.

The cultist sneered. "We'll find out anyway. You're not as clever as you think you are, Emmanuel."

Emmanuel knew that he had to think fast. He couldn't let the cultists find out about his village and put his family and friends in danger. He tried to think of a way to distract them, but his mind was blank.

Suddenly, one of the cultists spoke up. "Wait, I know this village. I've heard of it before. It's the one with the ancient shrine, isn't it?"

Emmanuel's heart skipped a beat. How did they know? He tried to play it cool, but the cultist's words had sent a chill down his spine.

"I...I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered.

The cultist smiled. "Don't play dumb, Emmanuel. We know all about your village and its secrets. And soon, we'll be visiting it."

The cultists blindfolded Emmanuel and drove him through the night, the darkness and silence making him feel disoriented and anxious. He had no idea where they were taking him, but the long journey from the city made him suspect that they were heading towards his village.