CHAPTER TWENTY – A RESEMBLANCE.

Uloma was well aware of the risk in what she was doing. She was sitting in Nne-nne's house, the ripe, putrid smell associated with this place teasing her nose and distracting her from the trees, where pods of yawning and stretching babies hung. There had been enough chance to change her mind, and there would be enough chances for regrets, but now she stared stubbornly at the turned back of the woman with pearl black teeth, if black could be considered pearl-like, and a leering laughter that could spoil the soul.  

It had all started as a joke, seeing the thick brown book with the drawing of a girl that could easily pass as her had piqued her interest. She told Ekama about the book, which had been sitting on Emenike’s desk, cluttered with books and papers, and had been begging her to take a peek. True, it was under a lot of papers, but for some reason, Emenike’s empty office had become drafty, with a sudden breeze blowing the papers tentatively off the book. It stole her attention the moment she saw it, but even she knew where to stop when it came to crossing the lines with Emenike. Ekama, on the other hand, existed to cross all the lines. 

“A prophecy of a girl resembling you!” 

She had exclaimed, her face lighting up. 

“Ulo, we should definitely take a look.” 

In hindsight, it had been really foolish, but they were bored with nothing better to do. She was banned from entering the human realm, and leaving the school to visit the other parts of their realm was heavily frowned upon. They would leave for the main realm from time to time, but that usually came at a cost, and everyone outside in the parts of the realm not occupied by their school could smell a Cosmic in training a mile away. So, when Ekama dared her to steal the book of prophecy, she had. She was in and out of Emenike’s Tree in record time. The dragon beings had ignored her, like they always did, and Emenike’s Tree trusted her, for whatever good that does it; it was probably because she was a regular fixture at the Tree. It was harmless; she had planned on returning the book, but Abali had caught them, and Abali was worse than an actual grown-up. 

“What is that?” 

He had asked, coming soundlessly upon them and startling them, where they had been huddled together over the cover of the book, contemplating the girl. ‘Did she look that similar to Ulo?’ ‘Yes’. ‘They could pass for twins.’ ‘Twins, that would be something,’ they had both giggled when Abali’s voice interrupted their sneaky reverie-inspired giggles. 

“Why do you always have to sneak up on people?” 

Ekama had yelled defensively at him like every guilty person caught off guard. She moved closer to Ulo on the cold, mud floor and waved her hand discreetly over the book, attempting to conceal it, but Abali would not be Abali if he did not know both girls and their antics. His unseeing eyes watched them with suspicion. 

“Concealing it with breeze and cloud, from me, smart.” 

He had said, unimpressed. It was one of those rare days in their realms when the sky truly opened instead of sending pitter-pattering raindrops. Thunder and lightning coloured the grey sky as a deafening storm billowed outside. 

“You are being nosey.” 

Uloma accused. But she knew she sounded guilty enough, and Abali would not give it up now. 

“What have you two done?” 

He asked, towering over their seated form on her bedroom floor, the window rattled on its hinges, letting in a spray of salty rain. 

“Fine, we stole a prophecy because the girl looks like me.” 

Abali’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked disappointed for a second, at them or himself? Uloma wondered, because this was not something above her or Kams; they were very comfortable being reckless, it was their thing, and Abali was their diluter. Being sensible was his thing. 

“Look, we were not going to open it, I promise, we were only going to look at the girl together, and then I will be putting it back.” 

Uloma protested, Abali tsked, and clocked his tongue at her in disapproval.  

“You two do a lot of stupid things. But stealing a prophecy, really?” 

“We already told you we were not going to open it.” 

Ekama protested, rolling her eyes. He was so annoying, Ulo thought, giving Kama a look, and nosy too. 

“Mhm” 

Abali answered Ekama and stretched out his hands to them. He was intimidating, standing over them, his glistening bare chest impressive, his unseeing eyes serious. However, neither girl was in the least intimidated; they had fried tougher fish, individually and as a duo. 

“What?” 

Ekama asked him, irritated. 

“The book, give it.” 

He demanded. Uloma nodded at Ekama. He won’t relent; he was just as stubborn as both of them. Giving in would save unnecessary yelling and screaming, and Ekama was evidently gearing up. Ekama backed down and waved her hand over the space between them; the book became visible again. Abali bent over them and picked it up, both girls exchanging a guilty look, and watched him stubbornly. Uloma could not explain to herself what had possessed her to go through with stealing the book in the first place, but she was not going to admit it now, especially not with Abali here.  

She looked at Ekama, and her friend looked as if she was beginning to realise, as well, how reckless what they had done was. They dared each other to do stupid things all the time, but this was the height; prophecies were volatile and personal things that other people had no business with. It took Uloma a second to see through her growing guilt that Abali was just standing there, frozen, book in hand, his eyes were their seeing brown, but glazed and frozen. She exchanged another look with Ekama. 

“Are you okay?” 

Ekama asked him, her voice coloured with worry. Uloma felt her concern trumping her other emotions. 

“Uloma, did you open this?” 

He croaked, shaking himself, as if trying to come out of a dream, or a binding spell; his voice sounded like his mouth was dry, and his throat was no longer comfortable with speaking. 

“We told you we did not open it.” 

Ekama reminded him. 

“Is everything okay?” 

She sounded as concerned as Uloma felt. The storm outside shook her window again, and lightning coloured the sky, bringing thunder in its wake. Both girls looked cold inside, but the storm had nothing to do with it. 

“Abali.” 

Uloma called, trying to snap him out of whatever this was. He was not even moving; just standing there, with that glazed look in his eyes. Of all their antics, Uloma worried they had finally broken Abali with this one. 

“I think we should open it.” 

He finally spoke against the backdrop of more lightning flashes. Uloma felt goosebumps travel through her arms. This was stupid. 

“Look, you have proven your point, we should never have taken the book, it was irresponsible of us.” 

Uloma felt unsettled; she could not explain why. Maybe it was the weird way Abali was behaving. 

“We should open it.” 

Abali repeated. Ekama shook her head at him at the same time as Uloma did. 

“We are not opening it. That is more than crossing a line.” 

She protested as if they had not already crossed one line with stealing the book, but one line crossed was enough. 

“Abali, you are scaring us.” 

She pleaded with him. But he stood there with determinedly glazed eyes that never left the book. Uloma reached out for the book, removing it from his firm grip, and her hand grazed his. She felt a current of electricity run through her body, she shivered, and dropped the book with a thud that still rang out against the stormy noise of the raging day. 

“Ulo.” 

He breathed, staring at her, with his eyes unseeing again. 

“I think I know the girl in that prophecy. It's unsettling, I know, but I think she wants us to read it.” 

Lightning rolled, escorted by clapping thunder. Uloma felt her heart flutter. The book had wanted to be seen, now it wanted to be read, by them, so maybe she had been right to steal it after all? 

~ 

Something had changed that stormy day. They had read the book, but not on that day. They hadn’t even read it all at once. It was as if the book had wanted to be found by Uloma and seen by Abali; it possessed him, tempting him, until he had read every word on every page, twice over. In the end, Ekani had intervened, allowing her realm to distill the potency of the lore that the book held, which had bound Abali. It meant, though, that they had never returned the book to Emenike. It remained in Ekani’s realm, where it could no longer affect Abali. 

~ 

Nne-nne was talking to her, so Uloma looked over at the woman's turned back again. Everything about her was unnerving, even her turned back. She was grinding herbs; the room, as usual, smelled ripe, but it now also smelled potent. There was smoke and steam from the cauldron of potion boiling over the fire in the corner, feeding towards the eeriness of their already eerie surroundings. 

The book of prophecy described a Cosmic, who came down into the human world, a child of a human woman. On the day Abali read that chapter to his captivated friends, Uloma had known at once what it was she had to do for Ogechi. That decision had led her to Emenike, who lectured her but was of no help, and then here. A decision she was not even proud of.  

“Of course, I can help you, my dear child.” 

Nne-nne was saying, her face grinning, the effect was horror-inspiring. She turned fully in the direction of Ulo, her face beaming. Ulo shuddered. She was here already; she had to see this through. 

“You are saying then that this is the only way?” 

Uloma asked again. She had asked this question before, and she was uncertain about many things, but what Nne-nne was suggesting... Uloma found her thoughts trailing off when she regained her bearing. Nne-nne was watching her, her blind eyes following Uloma’s every move.  

“Your human is a man. Men do not have wombs, not unless assisted, which is only what I am suggesting. Her human soul has no capacity to bear children, dear girl, but if I can give the male sea dragon children, I can give yours a child, but this is the only way.” 

Uloma nodded and swallowed. This was the only way. Emenike could not help; Nne-nne was offering her assistance. She had no option; this was the only way. Somewhere at the back of her thought, she wondered who it was she was trying to convince. It would only be for one human lifetime, right? She insisted to herself. And a human lifetime was nothing to a Cosmic; there was no other way, she insisted to herself again. Abali and Ekama would be furious if they knew what she was about to do, or even that she was here, but they did not have to know. They would find out, eventually. 

“I will do it.” 

She said to Nne-nne, who was still watching the conflicted face of the girl, with interest. Nne-nne cackled, her black teeth searing Uloma’s own voice in her head. She heard herself say those words, but it did not make sense to think that she was agreeing to do this. 

“There are rules, though. Rules, small, tiny bothersome rules, rules, prices, hahaha.” 

Nne-nne cackled, head moving from side to side, her room reverberating and echoing from the shrillness. The pods in the trees around them shook to her shrill laughter, and Ulo shivered again. She heard a tiny Abali voice in her head asking her what she was doing, but this felt right. This felt like something that had to be done, something that needed to be done. Something that she had to do. But rules, and prices? 

“What rules?” 

Uloma found herself asking, dread crippling her voice, wasn’t her decision a price in itself? Everything in her told her to bolt, told her she could not trust this woman. Nne-nne regarded Uloma from where she was standing, her face never moving from the perpetual attempt at a smile, like someone who had been told that making people comfortable required certain facial muscular contorting. Uloma felt her stomach plummet; the smoke and steam made her eyes water, and the smell was overwhelming, but she forced herself to focus on Nne-nne. 

“Oh, not much, this and that, but you know, as you are my child, I could wave most of them off, except for one tiny one.” 

She had not moved away from the bamboo table, where the herbs she had been mixing a second before sat. 

“What might this tiny one be?” 

Uloma’s voice sounded uncertain even to her own ears; she could hear the tiny Abali voice in her head, nagging at her again, telling her to run. The real Abali would be proud to know that her consciousness had a version of him nagging her as well. 

“You can never again return to the human world in your physical form if I do this for you.” 

Nne-nne was standing just in front of Uloma now. Uloma had not seen her move; she had not removed her eyes from Nne-nne, but there was Nne-nne, almost to her face. Her smell was revolting and overwhelming; it was all Uloma could do not to retch. Uloma blinked every time she saw a face move on Nne-nne's orange wrapper, like blinking was an armour to ground herself. Nne-nne looked down hopefully at Ulo, her average height significantly towering over Ulo’s seated form. 

“Never return, what do you mean?” 

Uloma echoed, blinking. She was trying not to swallow, but the smell was trying to get inside her. 

“Oh, you know, licencing and all, your human realisation would pass on to one of my babies. Yadayada.” 

She said 'babies' as she cradled a blob of a child that had just appeared in her arms. It was shaped like a little fat lizard. If Uloma thought the place unnerved her before, the baby, as a punctuation to emphasise a point, sent a feeling of dread and disgust that sat heavily on Uloma’s temple. She felt a headache coming on, just watching mother and child. 

“Before you protest, you do know you will be born a child that returns if we go through with this, so as long as you are born, you are certain to be reborn, again and again whenever you fancy, but only to this one human mother, your human mother, hey, what do you really lose right?” 

Her smile was as thick, unconvincing, and runny as palm oil porridge. Uloma knew she had a human form like every Cosmic in this realm. Like the form her mother had worn, on the day she had banned her from the human world and had sent her back to the realm of Death. That was her mother’s human form; Uloma had been mastering her human realisation. But imagine never again having it. Never again visiting the Human Realm in the form she had come to like. ‘You could still visit,’ a small voice reminded her, but it would not be the same. She had spent years growing and cultivating that form, learning to mask herself in it. To lose it now felt like giving up something more than she was permitting herself to even consider. Humans tend not to notice things that they cannot explain. She would never again stroll into the human world to mix with them as one of them. She could not do this; she panicked. An image of a beautiful, kind woman hunched over a large granite kitchen rock, with a smaller, shaped rock held in her right hand and brought down masterfully, yet a little forcefully over reddish-brown nuts, cracking open the palm-nuts and exposing their brown, fruity inside, surrounded by brown shelves, flashed through Uloma’s memory. Ogechi, Uloma thought, and her mind was made.