The Test Of Two Faces

Amanse had no recollection of where he was—no sense of time, space, or self. One moment he had been obeying the terrible masquerade's command to follow, and the next, it was as if he'd been jerked through the navel into another realm—a limbo, a netherealm, a belly of night.

He floated, suspended in a kaleidoscope of pulsating lights that shimmered and shifted in colors unknown to mortal memory. They whispered things to him in languages that made his teeth ache. Just when he thought his mind would shatter from the sensory weight, he emerged into something worse: complete, crushing darkness.

This was not the kind of darkness one sees at night. It was thicker, heavier, like cloth soaked in ink. So absolute was its hold that he couldn't tell where his limbs ended and the world began. He couldn't say where his head was, or whether his feet touched ground. Direction was an illusion. He floated—or maybe stood—inside this living void, a heartbeat of dread in a body of nothing.

Then, somewhere to his left—or was it right?—a drum began to beat.

DUM. DUM. DUM.

The sound echoed, primal and deep, like the earth itself was remembering something it had tried to forget.

"Follow the sound of the drums. Not the light."

The voice came from nowhere, yet filled every corner of his being. It was calm, amused, but edged with danger. Almost as if whoever spoke had seen countless souls come and go—and fall.

As if summoned by the voice, a pinprick of light appeared in the distance. It glowed faintly, shimmering like a lost star, and began to dance, beckoning him. It moved away slightly, then hovered, pulsing with urgency.

 "Follow the drums, ignore the light," the voice warned again, more insistent.

Amanse's heart pounded. The light was beautiful, and more importantly—it wasn't the darkness. It was hope. But the drums… they were fading. Each beat weaker than the last, retreating into the void.

"You have little time to decide," the voice said. "Soon the drumming will fade altogether, and the light will vanish too, leaving you to the mercy of what feeds in this night."

His instincts screamed to chase the light.

But something about the voice—its certainty, its stillness—pushed him the other way. He took a single step toward the fading drums.

The light flared red, as if angry, then blinked out of existence.

"Good choice," the voice chuckled. "You would've made a lovely corpse."

Amanse shivered. "Wh-who are you? Wh-where... am I?"

"My name doesn't matter. You're in Abali, or Anyasi, as some call her—the living embodiment of the Night. She is a sentient being. A goddess older than fear. And you, little spark, are trespassing inside her entrails."

The air shifted. The darkness rippled.

"She hates your kind. She tests them. That light? It was her first test. Most choose it. None return."

The voice faded, and Amanse walked on, his breath shallow. The drumming had gone silent. Now there was only the sound of his own footfalls—and even those seemed borrowed.

Suddenly, the darkness parted, like fog burning off beneath a hidden sun. In front of him, he saw a forked path, and standing at the exact meeting point was a creature unlike anything he had ever seen.

A giant.

Man-shaped, but blocky and brutal, like someone had carved muscle from mountain and wrapped it in skin. The creature's torso was massive, its arms thick as tree trunks. But most disturbing were the two heads—perched side by side like rival kings forced to share a throne.

One face glared at Amanse with utter loathing. The other smiled widely, eyes twinkling with mischief and friendliness.

"Wawu! Who do we have here?" the friendly head sang, its voice oddly high and feminine.

"Shut it, Mu," the other head snarled, voice deeper than thunder. "I do the talking."

Mu, the friendly one, ignored his counterpart completely.

"Don't mind Grumpy over there," he winked at Amanse. "I'm Mu, and that miserable sack is Gi. We help people make choices. Big ones. Life-changing ones. Fun, right?"

Amanse stared, frozen. The heads were attached to a single body, but somehow radiated completely opposite energies.

"Before you are two paths," Gi growled. "One leads forward—to your journey, to the Alusi. The other… leads to Ekwensu's belly. A pit of despair. Choose wrong, and your soul will be chewed slowly, over and over, for all of eternity."

Mu laughed and rolled his eyes. "He's so dramatic. But he's right. Choose quickly, or we'll just eat your soul instead. Haven't had a decent meal in five hundred years."

One meaty arm pointed left. "This way," said Mu with a grin.

The other arm pointed right. "This path," Gi said sharply.

Amanse looked from one to the other, heart hammering.

 "V-voice?" he called out inwardly.

 "I cannot help you now," the voice whispered faintly. "Not all tests are meant to be answered. Use your heart. Your eyes. Not all is what it seems."

And then the voice was gone.

"Well?" Mu said brightly. "Pick one, stammer-boy."

Gi simply glared, fists clenched.

Amanse took a step toward Mu's path. It seemed… safer. Mu was smiling. Encouraging. Helpful.

"Yes, that's it," Mu cooed.

But something… something in the smile was off. Beneath the grin, a hunger danced. A secret thrill.

He turned his gaze to Gi. Harsh. Angry. But in those furrowed brows, Amanse saw something else—grief. Regret. A silent warning.

Amanse turned, mid-step, and veered toward Gi's path.

Mu's face snapped. The smile melted into venom.

"You worm," he spat, voice now a guttural hiss. "I will feast on the flies that buzz around your rotting corpse, you maggot."

Amanse didn't look back. He ran.

The path twisted through shadows that whispered curses. Thorns clawed at his skin. The air turned colder.

But finally, he emerged.

He stood at the edge of a great, glittering river, its surface silver and shifting with stardust. Mist rolled across it like a veil.

And from its depths, she rose.

A mermaid, regal and glowing. Scales shimmered like moonlight on obsidian. Her hair flowed in the current though no water touched it. Jewels adorned her neck, her wrists, her eyelids.

Mami Wata.

"Took you long enough," she said, her voice like music over waves. "The Alusi grow impatient, Amanse."

She extended a hand.

"Come. There is still much to burn."