Chapter 11: The Path of the Diviners

The sun had climbed higher in the sky by the time they neared Akaibute.

Despite their banter earlier, a quiet tension had settled over them. This was not like visiting the markets of Ejuona or discussing plans in the safety of their own villages.

They were walking into the heart of the unknown—into a place where men spoke with spirits and the boundaries between the living and the dead felt thin.

The first sign of Umuezike came in the form of carved wooden totems standing at the edge of the village, each one bearing intricate symbols etched deep into the wood.

These were not mere decorations, they were markers of power, wards against malevolent forces, and silent greetings to those who understood their meaning.

Beyond them, the village of Umuezike stretched out in a circular formation, its homes clustered around a large central clearing. Thatched roofs bore painted sigils, and the air was saturated with the scent of burning herbs, a telltale sign of ongoing spiritual rites.

Some depicted animals—owls, serpents, tortoises—while others bore the abstract markings of Nsibidi, their meanings a mystery to outsiders.

Ekene, usually bold and unshaken, slowed his pace. "I don't like this place," he muttered, eyeing the carvings. "Feels like the trees are watching us."

Nnamdi smirked but kept his voice low. "For once, you say something I agree with."

Ikenna said nothing, but his eyes flickered over the totems, studying their patterns. Obinna could tell he was already trying to decipher their meaning.

Then, just as they stepped past the last totem, a figure emerged from the shadows of the trees—a young man, no older than them, standing with his hands folded neatly in front of him.

He was dressed in a red wrapper embroidered with white Nsibidi symbols, his feet bare against the earth.

His expression unreadable, and his eyes were calm and piercing. They held a knowing that made Obinna's expression to turn curious.

He had been waiting for them.

The four of them froze instinctively, although for different reasons.

"I hope your journey was peaceful," the young man said, his voice quiet but firm.

Obinna nodded. "You knew we were coming?"

The young man inclined his head slightly. "The ancestors brought it to our attention."

That sent a shiver down Ekene's spine. "What does that even mean?"

The young man did not answer, nor did his expression change. There was no smugness, no amusement—just quiet certainty.

Obinna's curiosity flared, but he pushed it aside for now. Instead, he took a steady breath and nodded. "We seek the elders of Akaibute."

"They are expecting you," the young man said simply. "Follow me."

He turned and began walking, not bothering to check if they would follow.

Obinna did and his friends followed behind.

The village of Umuezike was unlike any other in Aku. The homes were built in a circular pattern around a large central clearing, their thatched roofs adorned with symbols.

Smoke curled from clay chimneys, and the scent of burning herbs filled the air. The people moved with a quiet purpose, their voices hushed, their eyes observant and deep.

Children played near a small stream, but even they seemed more subdued than those in other villages.

No one stopped to gawk at the newcomers, as if their presence had already been accepted as inevitable.

"This place…" Nnamdi murmured, his voice laced with unease. "It doesn't feel real."

Ekene clenched his spear. "It feels like a place where the dead and the living share the same space."

Ikenna merely nodded. "Perhaps they do."

The young man led them deeper into the village, past homes and shrines, until they arrived at a grand Obi—a large meeting hall at the heart of Umuezike.

The structure was different from the ones they knew. Its wooden beams were intricately carved with Nsibidi, and strange symbols lined the entrance.

As Obinna stepped into the Obi, a sudden stillness settled over him.

The air here was thick, not just with the scent of burning herbs or the quiet presence of the gathered elders, but with something deeper, something unseen.

It pressed against his skin, humming at the edge of his senses, neither hostile nor welcoming.

His breath caught as he took in the sight before him.

Seated in a perfect circle were more than a dozen elders, their deep red garments identical to those of their guide.

Some were old, their faces etched with age and wisdom. Others were younger, but their eyes burned with something ancient and vast.

They were not just men and women. They were bridges between the living and the dead, and custodians of knowledge older than the village itself.

And they were watching him.

Their gaze rested on him like a heavy cloth, yet Obinna felt something awaken inside him.

His heart beat faster, but it wasn't fear.

It was familiarity.

Something in this place was calling to him—a quiet pull, a pressure under his skin, like the hidden flow of water beneath the earth.

Then, at the center of the circle, the eldest among them spoke.

"You have come."

His voice was calm, yet it filled the Obi like the wind rustling through old trees; gentle but firm, impossible to miss.

He was the oldest among them, his face marked with deep lines of age. On his wrist, he wore a single ivory bracelet, a sign of high spiritual standing.

Obinna nodded.

The sensation within him intensified, pulsing beneath his ribs. His instincts told him he was being measured. Weighed.

Not just by the eyes of the elders, but by something else.

Still, he steadied himself and stepped forward.

"Yes. We have come to seek knowledge."

A flicker of something; curiosity, amusement, understanding? passed across the elder's face.

His expression remained unreadable, but his presence filled the space like a storm cloud before the rain.

"And do you believe knowledge is so easily given?" the elder asked.

Obinna took a slow breath, the pressure within him growing sharper, a silent drumbeat echoing in his chest. It was as if something in this place was reaching for him—or responding to him.

"We do not seek what is easy," Obinna said, his voice steady. "We seek what is necessary."

The elder studied him. The silence in the Obi deepened, thick and expectant.

Ekene shifted uncomfortably. Nnamdi's usual smirk was gone, his brow furrowed. Ikenna stood still, his gaze flickering between the elders.

Obinna, however, felt his awareness stretching, expanding. He was no longer just standing before these men and women—he was within something greater, something vast. He could not see it, but he could feel it.

The elder's gaze sharpened. "And what makes you think you are ready for such knowledge?"

Obinna hesitated for only a breath before answering.

"Because we must be."

"The world is changing, whether we acknowledge it or not. If we do not understand it, we will be swept away—like a canoe caught in the flood. If we do not learn, we will be powerless against what is to come."

His words sent ripples through the gathered elders. Some exchanged glances. Others remained motionless. But none spoke outright.

The elder at the center, however, simply watched him. And then, ever so slightly, he nodded.

"Interesting," he murmured.

Something unseen passed through the room, a shift in the air. Obinna felt it, a brief but distinct pulse against his senses.

Then the elder raised his hand and gestured to their guide.

"Take them to the shrine."

The young man who had brought them bowed slightly before turning back to Obinna and his companions.

"Come," he said. His voice was calm, but his eyes held something deeper as he looked at Obinna.

Obinna took a slow breath.

This was what he had come for.

And now, there was no turning back.