CHAPTER SIXTEEN – IN HER EYES.

Uloma woke up in her room, with Abali on her bed and Ekama on her solid mud floor, chattering away at each other. Ulo groaned, resting the back of her palm on her forehead. 

“Hey, look who has decided to come alive.” 

Ekama said, coming to sit on the head of Uloma’s bed. Uloma felt groggy. She looked around her with her barely open eyes. Her room was its usual cozy, tidy place, with floral symbols of her family on the wall and dry, woven palm leaves hanging from open spaces. The only reason she did not have wrappers strewn everywhere was because of her dedicated servants. She tried to focus on her friends; she could have sworn she had been out with her friends last night, drinking and telling stories by the fire. She turned her gaze on Ekama, who bent into Ulo and planted a wet, playful kiss on her forehead. 

“Ughh, stop! Why was that so wet?” 

Uloma cried, sitting up She groaned again; her whole body felt like it had been put through a lot. Ekama giggled, puckering up again. 

“Don’t you dare!” 

Ulo warned, groaning. She was feeling more exhausted than she could ever remember feeling. Whatever happened last night must have required a lot of physical exertion, she thought, even as bits and pieces from the night before flashed through her head. 

“Was it your mother again?” 

Abali asked her, moving closer to sit beside Ekama. 

“Mhm-mhm.” 

Ulo said, shaking her head. No, it was not her mother this time; she was sure of it, even though she couldn't explain why. Her memories were returning, but they didn't make much sense. She rubbed at her neck and sniffed. 

“ughh, ughh.” 

Ekama said, with excited bewilderment all over her face, as realization dawned. 

“You journeyed.” 

She declared, her eyes now scrutinizing Uloma. 

“You are right.” 

Abali nodded and vanished. He returned almost immediately, holding a small cup to Uloma. 

“What is it?” 

Uloma groaned, refusing to accept whatever Abali was offering in that cup. 

“I don’t want to drink anything.” 

She whined. 

“Well, you have to; it will help your recovery.” 

He said, pushing the cup into her hand. Ulo sniffed at the contents of the cup and grimaced; it smelled bitter. Why did it smell so bitter, she wondered? Looking pleadingly at her friends. Okay, bitter was not a smell, but whatever was in that cup smelled like it would not go down well. 

“Drink up.” 

Abali insisted, raising both his eyebrows. Uloma looked at him like he was being mean, but he had his unwavering look, the insufferable boy, she thought. Ulo felt her resignation as she accepted the cup from him, with barely still hands. She steadied her hands as much as she could, curling them around the cup. She groaned again and gulped down the contents of the cup. It wasn’t as bad as she had expected. It wasn’t sweet, whatever it was, but it wasn’t bitter either. 

“Scent leaf?” 

She stated, and he nodded.  

“Mhm.” 

He took the cup from her and dropped it; it vanished before it hit the ground. Uloma watched this journey; she watched it disappear, its absence leaving her with a hollow feeling she had no idea what to do with. A memory flashed through her head: Oge. She had gone back to Oge last night, she thought, and the hollow feeling intensified. 

“Where did you go?” 

Ekama asked her as if reading her mind, but Ulo was not sure she wanted to think about it or even talk about it. She was finally doing better with dealing with being away from Oge and Obuzor. 

“Emenike came for you.” 

Abali said, his expression was suddenly serious.  

“Emenike?” 

Ekama asked, confused. Abali nodded. 

“But he just sent a messenger to ask Uloma to see him. Why would he want to see her twice in less than a day?” 

Ekama asked, shaking her head to indicate she did not understand what Abali was saying. Uloma looked from one friend to the other. She could easily answer their questions because her memories had returned fully, along with her muscle mobility. However, the answers would lead to more questions. More questions were something she was not quite sure she was ready to get into just yet. 

“Yes, but the messenger did not expect to find her awake. He knew she was not here. How could Emenike have known? Unless he was there when she went away.” 

Abali explained. It looked like he was talking more to himself than to Ekama. 

“Ulo, what is going on?” 

Ekama asked, turning to Uloma. Ulo shook her head, to say she did not know either. 

“I think something happened; something that had to do with me.” 

“Okay, why did he have to send you away, though?” 

Ekama demanded. 

“I don’t know.” 

Uloma shrugged. 

“I don’t understand it exactly, he said. It wasn’t safe for me to be fully out there.” 

“Hold on.” 

“What? What are you talking about?” 

Ekama asked. She was making Uloma chilly, and Ulo hugged her folded legs to herself. The woven curtain covering her window did a chilly dance imitating Uloma’s shiver. Ekama’s powers were interpreting her worries. Ulo gazed outside at the grey day; the lazy rain only added to her hollow feeling. 

“Calm down.” 

Abali shot Ekama a warning look. 

“You know she feels your chill, right?” 

Abali quarreled. 

“I am just worried about her?” 

Ekama shot at him. Trust them to squabble even at the most inopportune time. 

“There is no need to worry about me. I don’t know what happened, but yes, you are right, Abali, Emenike came to me, he told me to go into my story.” 

“He pulled your soul away from your spirit? That is something only your mother and the gods can do. For all his powers, he is still Cosmic. Emenikes have to obey certain rules, even more than the rest of us. Separating your spirit is pressing it.” 

Ekama was looking at Uloma as if she thought Uloma was holding back something. Uloma looked away, directing her gaze again to her open window. She could barely see her garden of dying plants because of the hazy day, but she wished she were out there, in the fresh air, away from the intense scrutiny of these two. 

“My mother and sisters helped; I think. I don’t know.” 

“Ulo, what is going on?” 

Ekama asked, and Ulo could feel her eyes on her. 

“The better question is, why don’t we know and are unable to see what happened or what is happening?” 

Abali interjected. Uloma’s head turned towards him. She wondered for a second what he knew; he always seemed to know things he shouldn't. 

“It's worrying, right?” 

Ekama agreed. 

“So, what happened after I left?” 

Uloma asked desperately, wanting to change the subject. No matter what happens, she cannot discuss Oge and Obuzor with them. They would not understand. Abali looked at her like he was trying to read her, his unseeing eyes attempting to figure her out. He made a face at her, and Uloma fleetingly wondered whether he could tell what she was hiding. 

“For a while, you were still with us, and then you collapsed, just like when your mother came for you. So, we called it a night and brought you back to your palace.” 

Abali explained, his eyes doing his usual sweep search of her face. 

“Do you think something bad happened to someone or some creature in our realm? I don’t know. I mean, why else would Emenike himself come for me?” 

Uloma’s voice shook. She was genuinely trying not to think that much about last night, but even her head was screaming about something being wrong. 

“We can worry about that, or we can spend the night listening to where you went and what you saw. I vote where you went.” 

Ekama said cheerily, with her usual, I can read your mind look. At that moment, one of the dragon men, Orlus, flew into Uloma’s room, startling them. 

“Goodness, I hate interdimensional beings.” 

Ekama exclaimed, holding her hand to her chest. 

“Nobody likes you either!” 

The dragon man bristled his hand to his tiny chest, in a bad imitation of Kama. As usual, the Dragon creature looked out of place anywhere else that was not Emenike’s dimension; even just his head and body were a glaring shade of deep blue or purple that would have made him stand out anywhere in this realm. 

“You know you wanted to have this dramatic effect, you saw my open window, you could have flown in through the window, yet you flew in from nowhere, why?” 

“I did not come here to get interrogated like this. Emenike requires your attention now, he said you should be awake or dead or something.” 

The dragon man said. He had a smirk on his little evil face, Uloma hated that smirk, she narrowed her eyes at him. Even his draped wrapper was a pulsating deep blue. What self-respecting being looked this blatantly magical? 

“He did not say dead.” 

Abali answered. 

“Yeah, whatever, are you coming or what?” 

He retorted, brushing Abali off. It was not easy to do, dismissing Abali like that; you had to give him some credit, Uloma thought, eying the dragon man again. 

“Why, so you will use your strings on her if she says she won’t come?” 

Ekama looked at him suspiciously. The smirk on his face increased, and he shrugged noncommittally, waving his hand dramatically. 

“Oh, wow, you caught me.” 

He mocked. 

“Please let's go.” 

He commanded Uloma. As Uloma climbed out of her bed, her friends took to their feet too. 

“Eh, eh, not you two, he sent me specifically to make certain you don’t come with us. Find something to do with yourself that does not require following her around, stop being so pathetic.” 

The dragon man said, smiling at them and batting his long lashes. He waved his hand, and they were inside the tree before Ulo could react. 

“Have fun.” 

He cheered insincerely. Uloma blinked at him, too surprised to reply immediately. He was already walking away from her as if he was bored with her before she could find her words. 

“You are bitter!” 

She yelled after he retreated; he had not even stopped a second to explain why she was there, the rude little thing. 

“Same to you, dear.” 

He called back without even turning to look at her.  

“I hope you get boiled like crayfish.” 

Ulo muttered under her breath. 

“I heard that.” 

She heard Emenike say in her head, Ulo sighed dejectedly. She knew she was not prepared for whatever it was that had Emenike wanting to see her twice in less than a day.  

“Come in.” 

He said as the door to his office swung open. Uloma walked into his office, but he was not behind his desk. He was standing in front of one of his tall shelves, scrolling through heavy books that made you want to gawk, but at the same time look away, because of the unsettled way the books caused your eyes to feel.  

“Come, come. Join us.” 

He declared, smiling momentarily at her before returning to his books. The office was extending itself before Uloma’s eyes, more rolls of books in classic tall-to-the-ceiling shelves kept revealing themselves, as if they had always been there but had never seen them because she had never looked at them. 

“Don’t just stand there gawking at us; join the search. Asi and Eligwe are here somewhere.” 

He said, looking around his office. Uloma felt a thump in her chest at the mention of both names. The last time she saw Asi, her sister had stomped off, furious. 

“Oh, well, let's hope my dimension has not swallowed them.” 

Emenike said, when he did not see them and he had meant it. Emenike’s dimension was not an ideal place to find yourself in, if you had no permission to enter. And his library was even worse; most of the books had subdimensions hidden within them, and some creatures found that out the hard way. Ulo nodded at him and looked around the room herself. She felt goosebumps at the surge and buzz of electric powers from the books. The books all seemed to call for her attention silently. She looked over at Emenike, but he had disappeared behind a shelf. Uloma felt compelled and enticed by some of the books lying there innocently on the shelves; she walked towards one of the shelves as if in a trance. A book, flashing red and brown in front of her, was flapping open and closing seductively, not opening completely before it shut itself up again, as if it wanted to be explored. Uloma advanced towards it. 

“What are we looking for?” 

Uloma asked, pulling out the brown and red book from the shelf. Emenike was by her side in a second. 

“Don...” 

Emenike started to warn her, but it was too late, as sand was beginning to pour out of the book torridly. 

“Oza kene, kene animija.” 

Emenike chanted, the sand reversed its flow back into the book, Emenike snatched the book away from her, shut it firmly, and put it back on the shelf. Uloma felt her heartbeat as it accelerated at the prospect of being buried alive begin to settle again. Everything had happened so quickly. 

“You do not have any self-preservation, do you?” 

Eligwe said lazily behind her, he was watching her with cold interest. He looked more beautiful than she remembered. How was that even possible? She gulped, but he was watching her like he thought she was a live accident in motion. Uloma looked away from him, feeling embarrassment rise inside her; that was a new feeling, she thought, as Asi stepped away from wherever she was and came to stand beside Eligwe. 

“Told you.” 

Asi scuffed, her hand folded in front of her, her tiny frame a distinct contrast to his tall, fair one. Her purple wrapper today looked duller than Uloma remembered. She had her hair styled in the same way as Uloma's mother, Enwu. Uloma ignored them; she still felt shaken by the flood of sand that had just nearly swallowed her, so she mentally shoved the earlier unfamiliar feeling of embarrassment down. 

“She does truly lack self-preservation.” 

Emenike repeated studying her. Ulo frowned at him. This was beginning to look more and more like a gang-up. 

“Your training must start at once. It's the only way.” 

He declared he looked almost disappointed at her. She had never seen that look on his face directed at her, and if she was being truthful, she had gotten into a lot of trouble in her own time. He was never disappointed in her. Uloma looked at her sister; she must be enjoying this, Uloma mused, but Asi looked as dull as her wrapper; there was no happiness there, no contempt. Why hadn’t she noticed the graveness on Emenike’s and Asiya's faces before? Uloma felt that usual monster in her stomach again. 

“Ulo, we will go into the white room. There is something I think you should see. You should understand that we all have a good reason to worry.” 

Uloma nodded. Usually, she wanted to be kept in the dark about certain things; it was the code of the lazy, but something about the uneasy look on their faces was worrying. Eligwe did not look frazzled, though; she noticed he just looked at her like she annoyed him. 

“Okay.” 

She replied. 

“Did you find the prophecy?” 

Eligwe asked, turning his lazy gaze on Emenike. 

“No, and I can tell that Asi has not found it either.” 

He sighed heavily. He looked older than he usually did. They were looking for the book of prophecy, a tiny guilty voice whispered in Uloma’s head, but Ulo shook it off. 

“It is concerning. It is almost like someone, or something, wants to keep us in the dark. If we can’t find the thing, we can’t fight the thing. The book is the answer.” 

He said the last part in a whisper, as if he were speaking to himself. Oh no, Uloma thought, happy they were not looking at her. What would she do if they asked her about the book? She wondered, consciously controlling her breathing. Why would they ask her about the book? They had no reason to suspect her, she assured herself. 

“The sisters of fate know the prophecy, if that is what you are looking for, and so does Umaji.” 

Uloma offered, in an attempt not to feel so useless. 

“No, what they see is a shadow of the prophecy.” 

Eligwe said. Uloma felt her stomach plummet; she swallowed uncomfortably. She had hoped that would be a solution, focusing her energy on trying not to look guilty; she nodded. 

“It's the books of prophecy you are looking for, then?” 

She asked as if they had not already covered that ground, but she was impressed to hear her voice stand its ground; she had worried it would shake. 

“Not the general books, you can conjure those up The Book is what we have been searching for since last night.” 

Asi said, frowning at Ulo, Ulo smiled at her. She knew, as she smiled, that she just looked suspicious, so she stopped. Asi looked at her like she was being weird and looked away. The dull look Asiya had on made sense now, Uloma realized, if Asiya had been here searching for the book since last night. 

“Anyway, a powerful being must have taken it. Not just anyone has access to this dimension.” 

She said, gesturing her hand to show she meant Emenike’s dimension. Emenike nodded gravely. Uloma nodded too, and a new kind of foreboding started to gnaw at her. When she stopped staring at Asi intently, she looked over at Eligwe. He was watching her. Ulo gave him a small smile, but he did not return it.  

“We will worry about one thing at a time, for now, Ulo needs to see what she is up against.” 

Emenike stated he looked like he was about to subject her to torture. 

“Wait, why am I the one up against whatever you want to show me?” 

Uloma asked—the relief at not being suspected, taking a back seat.  

“Eh, because the prophecy said this is all your fault?” 

Asi offered an incredulous look on her face. 

“Again, all for sister rivalry, but we do not have the time for that at the moment.” 

Emenike said, he waved his hand, and they were in the white room. 

Seated across the table from Emenike, Ulo could not help but remember the last time she sat here like this. She felt panic from even thinking about what happened to Abali, what had almost happened to him. It was not lost on her how much she was living in constant fear and anxiety these days. She smiled warily when Emenike raised his eyebrows at her. She did not know who she wanted to reassure more with her smile; he just looked so sad. It was a difficult thing to see in Emenike. 

“Uloma, you have to prepare yourself for this.” 

Eligwe said beside her. He was not wearing his nonchalant look; she had the feeling that he thought she was not taking this as seriously as she should, whatever this was. 

“I am prepared.” 

Uloma said with forced cheeriness. 

“No, you are not, not a single one of us is Ulo.” 

Asi told her, shaking her head. 

“Uloma, we don’t understand ourselves yet, what you are about to see, but it is something that has raised alarm in all of us, so if at any moment you want us to stop, just let us know.” 

Emenike informed her. They were worrying her. What was so bad that they were all looking at her like that? They were treating her as if they didn't think she was strong enough, and that was getting on her nerves. She was the daughter of Death; she was a Cosmic; she could handle whatever it was that was making them give her that look, she thought. Uloma returned a defiant look to show them she was prepared for whatever they were about to show her. Emenike sighed and turned towards the wall in front of them. 

“mewoji, iye gbegbeleye woji. Yeyawoji lomomu.” 

The white wall in front of them started to look even lighter, as Emenike chanted. Uloma felt it inside her head when the wall began to become uncertain about what it was or whether it was truly there. The more Emenike chanted, the more the wall was convinced that it was not a wall at all, and then it wasn’t. It became a transparent, glowing glass, with images flashing through as if it wasn't still sure what its purpose truly was. Emenike kept chanting; he did not stop when the light on the wall glowed and wobbled in colors, or when the images started to take on a firmer form. Soon, the wall was firmly transparent, transmitting images that were no longer still.  

It was now skimming through pictures, still and moving so quickly, Uloma’s head whirled just looking at them. A purple, blue, and red light flashed through the glass until finally, the images settled.  

A child was playing with an older adult in a field of tall grass. The little boy appeared to be anywhere between the ages of four and six years old. They were running around giggling. Uloma smiled to herself. What was so bad about this image that they were all acting like something was out to get them? As Ulo watched, the older woman tripped on something and fell on the grass. She lay there giggling, her barely covered legs stretched out in front of her. The sun shone against the grasses as they danced to the tune of the breeze. The woman looked happy. She lay there for what felt like close to a minute, a warm, content smile on her face, her eyes closed. Ulo could hear the birds that the woman appeared to be listening to. Her beautifully painted legs accentuated her fine wrapper. She did not scream wealth or affluence, but it was easy to see that she took care of her looks. Her woven hair had beads threaded into it, and the sun rays played with her skin, causing it to look unnaturally shiny. And everything looked and felt truly perfect until it was not. Uloma felt it, the shift. 

It was all gone as quickly as the image had appeared. Not the woman or the field, no, the sense of serenity. Uloma felt a clammy voice in her head, ‘RUN, ’ it said. It felt like her back was being traced with a cold, dead hand. The voice was wrong; it should not even exist. Uloma’s heart started to race.  No, she heard herself whisper. In front of her, the woman’s eyes snapped open, almost like she had heard Ulo. 

“Ije.” 

The woman called out. 

“Ijemeh.” 

There was an urgency in her voice now. She bolted upright, scrambling to her feet, her eyes wild as she scanned the field. Uloma sensed the woman; she sensed the panic coursing through the woman, it was the same panic that now lived permanently in Uloma’s stomach. 

“Ije.” 

The woman called desperately, her voice a pitch of desperation and panic. 

“It's too late.” 

Uloma heard her own voice say. 

“It's too late, it's too late, it's too late.” 

Uloma screamed, holding her head. The monster in her stomach was awake, and it was clawing its way up her stomach, towards her heart. 

“It's too late, no!” 

Uloma’s shrill scream would chill the heart if it could be overheard outside the white room, and if the occupants of that room were not already beings of darkness that understood the concept of terror. 

“No, please.” 

Uloma muttered as the woman's leg on the screen began to pound the naked earth. The cowries on her ankles jiggled as she ran, yelling for the little boy. The woman ran until she came out into a clearing of trees. 

“Ije.” 

She called softly, the tears in her voice were also running down her face. 

“Ije, what are you doing?” 

The woman called, approaching the little boy who was standing there, facing the trees, unmoving. She bent down and pulled the boy into her arms, but the little boy still did not move a muscle; he looked petrified. 

“Ije, Ije, what is wrong?” 

The woman cried, hugging the boy to herself. Uloma felt her stomach drop, the cold hand was traveling down her back again, and she felt terrified. All the panic, fear, and worry finally made sense to Uloma as she watched the scene unfolding before her. 

“They are coming.” 

Uloma whispered. The woman was doomed, Uloma could feel it, and there was no helping her. The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed Uloma, but she could not look away from the scene. A fair-skinned woman came out from behind one of the trees. Her white lower wrapper, worn like a skirt, did nothing to hide her fat, fair legs. She had no beads on her waist or her ankle. Her upper wrapper matched the lower one; again, she had no beads on her fair neck. Her pink lips accentuated her pearl-white teeth. And her cute little nose was perfect against a perfectly round face. Her hair was neither braided nor plaited; she had no beads in her hair. She did not wear a single bead, because her beauty did not need accentuating. But her eyes were where the evil lived, or where her eyes should be at least. She had no eyes; it was just a black vacuum of stretched darkness. Even the arteries stretching out of her eyes were just as black. The strange woman smiled, her entire attention focused on the woman holding the little boy. 

“There you are.” 

Her voice was sweet-sounding. Like a calm breeze tickling the ears. Her smile was sweet; everything about her was lovely. It was just her eyes; they told a truth that the rest of her could not. 

“I waited patiently for you; you know. Now look at me.” 

She ordered sweetly; the woman looked powerless against the voice dripping with honey. She looked up obediently at the strange woman and went immediately still, like the little boy before her. The worst was about to begin. Uloma could feel it; she shook her head. 

“No, no, turn it off, turn it off.” 

She yelled, shutting her eyes. But the sound from the screen would not shut off. She heard the sweet, sick giggling. It pierced through her closed eyes, forcing them open, forcing them to bear witness to the abominable thing about to happen. 

“You are so much fun to play with.” 

The strange woman was saying, skipping around the petrified woman and child. 

“But I am tired of playing now.” 

She pouted, bending to the level of the woman embracing the child. She touched the child's forehead first and then the woman's. Uloma felt it before it happened. The pop of arteries and veins exploding. It was such a tiny sound that, against the beautiful day, the birds and insects singing it would have gone unheard. But Uloma heard it in her head like heavy explosives, the sound of splintering and shattering bones. The woman and child were exploding from the inside, and soon they were reduced to blood and shattered fragments of bones splattering everywhere. 

“So sweet.” 

The strange woman sang, wiggling her whole body in childish excitement. She licked her lips greedily, making a smacking sound. 

“Ahh.” 

She smiled and started to lick the blood off her fingers, her hands, and her chest. She was covered all over with blood and parts of human remains, but the sweet, happy look on her face never shifted. She was humming a happy tune. Uloma wretched and vomited, just as the image shut off.