The Doorway Ritual

The clock in the small room ticked steadily toward midnight. Outside, the city had quieted; the relentless hum of Lagos' daytime chaos had softened to a distant murmur. Shadows clung to every corner, and the air smelled of damp earth and smoke from distant fires.

Iyi sat cross-legged on the rough wooden floor, the small pouch of crushed herbs resting on the low table before him. The Man with Cowrie Eyes' words echoed in his mind: "Drink this at midnight, and listen to the voices of the river. They will guide you but only if you are brave enough to hear."

His fingers trembled slightly as he mixed the herbs into a small cup of water. The bitter scent made his stomach twist, but he steeled himself and drank it down in one swift motion. The liquid was cold and harsh, leaving a metallic aftertaste that clung to his tongue.

He settled back, eyes closed, breathing deep.

The minutes dragged, each tick of the clock feeling heavier, until finally the world began to shift.

The walls of his room melted away like smoke, and suddenly Iyi found himself standing at the edge of a great river, its waters dark and shimmering under a silver moon. The river whispered a low, ancient song that vibrated through the air and into his bones.

A thick fog rolled across the surface, curling and twisting like living breath.

Iyi took a hesitant step forward. The sponge, wrapped in cloth, was tucked safely in his satchel, but here it felt like a key something that could unlock a door between worlds.

From the mist, figures began to emerge. shadowy shapes, flickering between forms of humans and spirits. Their eyes glowed faintly with ethereal light.

One stepped closer, a woman draped in flowing white, her hair like liquid night. She held out a small soap bar, its surface smooth and glistening with tiny flecks of gold.

"The Doorway Soap," she said softly, voice echoing like the river's song. "It smells of silence because it cleanses what words cannot reach."

Iyi accepted the soap, feeling a strange warmth radiate from it.

The woman gestured toward the water.

"To cross, you must wash the hunger from your skin. But beware once you enter, the spirits will test your truth."

Iyi nodded, heart pounding.

He knelt at the riverbank and lathered the soap onto his hands, then raised them to his face. The scent was faintly familiar, like a memory just beyond reach.

As the water washed over him, the world blurred, colors bleeding into one another. He felt a pull a sudden dizziness, like falling and rising at the same time.

When he opened his eyes, he was no longer by the river.

He was standing in a village unlike any he had ever seen. The air was thick with the scent of palm leaves and smoke, the sky painted in twilight hues. The village was silent except for a low chanting that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

Iyi looked down and saw the sponge in his hand had changed it glowed faintly, pulsing with a soft light.

The villagers, ghostly and still, turned to face him. Their eyes were empty, but their mouths moved in the endless chant.

Iyi's heart clenched.

This was no ordinary place. It was a realm of spirits, of echoes and memories.

A voice whispered in his ear a warning and a promise.

"Here, truth is the only currency. Lie, and you will be lost forever."

Iyi took a steadying breath.

He stepped forward into the village, the sponge's light growing brighter with each step.

The Doorway Ritual had begun.