Chapter Thirteen - A Fight.
Tears and smoke stung her eyes. Around her, Comics limped or lay still. Her sister and Abali were unconscious on the brown grass. Kama was barely holding up. Her hand shook as she directed her wind at the burning academy. She was kneeling, her legs too weak to support her.
“This is not my fault.”
She cried, pained by the implication from Eligwe. She had not done this. Why was he being so hard on her?
“No, not yet, it is not. But if you keep doing nothing, it will.”
Uloma closed her eyes, holding her hand around her exposed stomach in a defensive hug. What was she supposed to do? She had not asked to be connected to their minds. She had not tried to connect them; it had just happened. There has never been any conscious attempt on her part.
“Centring Ulom, remember? We are all connected, but not to those things. You, to our advantage, are. You are connected to everything and them.”
Kama said in Uloma’s head. Uloma caught her friend’s weary eyes. The second Kama looked away from the blaze. It surged, blowing at Ekama, almost engulfing her. Cosmics screamed in terror around Ulo. When Ulo looked again towards Kama, she was lying limp in Eligwe’s arms.
“No!”
Uloma heard herself scream, centre, she would centre. What had Emenike said? They were all connected, Uloma thought, breathing through her mouth. Fear made her ears ring. The screaming, groans, and cries from the other students rushed at her. The heat from the burning school felt to her skin like stepping into real fire. But real fire would not burn her or any of the Cosmics here. This was not a real fire. It was something pretending to be real. It was like those things. Nothing had been real about them. They had only imitated what beings would look and walk like. The academy was not even here, but they could not have known that. They saw a building; they must have seen sentient buildings before. Uloma burrowed into her thoughts. They had no way of knowing because they were not used to a realm where ideas and thoughts are solid. Beings, like that, in a realm like this, were havoc. When you start to believe in thoughts and ideas, whether intentionally or not, you can amplify them.
“You are not there.”
She whispered in her head, but all she felt was nothing, and she heard nothing.
“You are not there; can you hear me?”
“If I am not here, to whom then do you speak?”
The voice in her head sent shivers down her core. It was old, wise, and terrifying for reasons Uloma could not understand.
“You say we are not real, yet here we are. All my others are panicking, they are acting out, can you help us?”
The voice asked her.
“But.”
Uloma started to say.
“I hope you are not about to repeat the nonsense about us not being real, because you would have to tell it to the others who, at this very moment, are beside themselves.”
“How are you real?”
Uloma asked the voice.
“Is that what you want to ask about? If the school burns to the ground, we will cease to exist completely. SAVE US.”
The last words sent tantalizing shivers down her spine. A spine that should not be there, because she was not human. Uloma opened her eyes but saw nothing.
“You have not learned to exist in a form yet. We woke you up, and now I'll give you a form.”
They started to appear, beings identical to Emenike. They looked at her, eyes burning with anxiety and curiosity. They could see her, and she could see them. Her spine tingled again. It was thrilling. She felt powerful; they could not hide now. She grinned as she dove into their minds. They were muddled, confused, and full of panic. They were scurrying, she giggled. She could bend them, do whatever she wanted to them. She could snap them, and they would cease to exist immediately. That would solve all their problems, she laughed.
The power was intoxicating. This is not you, something inside her said. But the thing was small and barely there. She floated around in their mind, drinking in their fears and panic.
“You are not them.”
The voice was more forceful this time. It startled her out of herself. ‘What self?’ Her head asked her. She was not a self, she was selves, selves with purpose.
“Uloma, you can hear me, you are more powerful than they are, you can defeat them.”
Uloma, she had a name, and that was her name, she thought as she swam out of the mind of the poor Academy. She stood in front of them, and they stared at her, freighted, all of them but the one. He was ancient, with a beard like her Emenike.
“Emenike was here.”
She told them, and the one looked at her sceptically.
“What are you?”
He asked her. She was unsure of the answer, but she knew what she had to do.
“I will go into your mind again.”
She told them, but did not wait for their protests. They were the soul of the school, the essence of Emenikes, and everything they had taught students for millennia. They were also the students that have passed through the academy. They were her, and all the times she had sat in the classrooms daydreaming. They were here now, because they had always been here, just unconscious.
“I know you.”
She told their chaotic mind.
“I see you.”
She said, as she fought herself from taking control of something so easily possessable.
“You are truly on fire, aren’t you?”
She asked the mind, thinking of Eligwe and what he had done to her inside. He had been in her head because even he understood that if you exist, you are connected to the universe. He had tried to heal her mind. No, he had healed her mind by stealing into it. She remembered how that had felt—the stinging and burning that had consumed her senses. He took those away; she was not a healer, but she could visit that point in time and steal what he had done for her mind. And so, she did. Uloma felt the stinging sensation again, the electric shock of voltage traveling through her, immobilizing her.
She opened her eyes, surrounded by throngs of Cosmic, and she was not in control of her muscles as she was spasming on the brown grassy ground. The pain overwhelmed her senses before she closed her eyes. From the unbearable pain, she saw the academy. It was no longer burning.