The chase for the Chalice

Wafula sat in the car, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, watching as Heinrich and the others disappeared into the night. He had been told to stay put, to wait in the vehicle, but something didn't sit right with him. His gut churned with unease, a feeling he had been trying to ignore since they entered Tanzania.

At first, he had no intention of following them. He wasn't some action movie hero sneaking into secret missions. He was a tour guide no, a plumber who had somehow landed in the middle of something strange. He could have just waited, enjoyed the quiet, and driven them back when they were done.

But then, he noticed something odd.

More people.

At first, it was a few silhouettes moving in the dark, then more, all heading in the same direction as Heinrich and his group. This was no ordinary visit to a historical site. What business did so many people have at Kinjikitile Ngwale's place in the middle of the night?

He wasn't alone in his curiosity. A fellow chauffeur, an older man who had been waiting for his clients, saw Wafula looking.

"Don't get involved in rich men's business," the man warned. "Nothing good comes from it."

Wafula gave him a casual nod. "Of course, of course."

Five minutes later, he was blending into the night, following the trail.

----

Wafula moved quietly, keeping his distance as he shadowed Heinrich's group. The woman, Heinrich's wife, held something that glowed faintly, a gadget that looked like a compass but didn't behave like one. She was guiding them with it, while the bodyguards moved in tense silence, scanning their surroundings.

But it wasn't just them.

From his vantage point on a low hill, Wafula could see more groups heading in the same direction. Some used strange methods to determine their path. He saw one man plant a stick in the ground, spin it like a top, then confidently march in the direction it pointed. Another spat into his palm, tapped the spit forcefully, and followed wherever the majority of it landed.

"Witchcraft?" Wafula whispered to himself.

The methods were bizarre, but the results were clear everyone was converging on the same place.

And his gut feeling was getting worse.

----

Wafula arrived at the river just as the chaos erupted.

There were more people here than he could have imagined. Dozens, all dressed in dark clothing, their eyes fixed on a single object—a chalice, standing on a stone pedestal at the riverbank, illuminated by torchlight.

Then, madness.

Gunfire shattered the night. Knives flashed in the dim light. People screamed, cursed, and fought like wild animals. Wafula ducked behind a tree just in time to avoid a stray bullet.

Some groups had clearly come prepared for a battle. Others, like Heinrich's, were more tactical, moving with precision, striking only when necessary.

But then, in the chaos, someone grabbed the chalice and ran.

That was all it took. Like a switch had been flipped, half of the fighters abandoned the battle and took off after the thief, disappearing into the darkness.

Wafula should have left then. He had no business being here.

But then it happened.

The voiceless call.

That eerie, insistent tug in his mind, the same one that had led him here in the first place. It wasn't pulling him towards the fleeing man but towards the river itself.

His legs moved before he could think.

Ignoring the chaos around him, Wafula ran straight for the water and diven in.

----

The river was cold, swallowing him whole as he plunged beneath the surface. But the moment his eyes adjusted to the underwater darkness, he saw it.

Another chalice.

This one wasn't in anyone's hands. It wasn't hidden, wasn't guarded. It simply floated there, glowing faintly, as if waiting. This was exactly what he had seen previously in the little space he had entered, he could feel it resonate with him and he had a bad feeling.

Then, with terrifying speed, it shot towards him.

Wafula barely had time to react before the chalice sank intohis chest, disappearing inside him like water into dry soil.

For a split second, his entire body felt electrified. His vision blurred, his lungs screamed for air, and something something powerful pulsed inside him.

Then, silence.

He was still underwater, but his body felt light, as if something had changed. He felt relieved like some weight had been lifted of his shoulders.

----

Wafula didn't have time to process what had just happened. As soon as he surfaced, he knew he was in deep trouble.

Not everyone had chased the fake chalice. Some had remained behind, searching the river.

And now, they were looking right at him.

"There! That guy! He just came out of the water!"

"Did you see that glow? He has it!"

"GET HIM!"

Ah! This was bad.

Wafula did what any sane man would do when faced with armed lunatics.

He ran.

He dashed into the darkness, legs pumping as fast as they could carry him. Behind him, men shouted, gunfire cracked through the air, and boots pounded against the ground in pursuit.

But the night was on his side.

He zigzagged through the trees, dodging roots, leaping over fallen logs, and at one point, accidentally kicking an unfortunate man who had been crouching in the shadows.

"ARGH! WHO—?!"

"Sorry, bro!" Wafula shouted as he kept running.

One of the bodyguards fired a shot, but in the dark, Wafula wasn't an easy target. He threw himself into a thick bush, rolling down a slope, getting covered in mud and leaves in the process.

By the time he hit the bottom, he was completly unrecognizable.

The pursuers ran past him, still searching.

Wafula took a moment to catch his breath, heart hammering in his chest.

What the hell had just happened?

He had seen someone steal the chalice—so what exactly had gone inside him?

Wafula exhaled, wiping sweat and mud from his face.

Whatever had just happened, one thing was certain, he was in serious trouble.

And yet, strangely, he wasn't shocked.

After everything he had seen in the past months, he was beginning to accept that his life was no longer normal.