In the darkness, a man screamed, then another, then another. The cries echoed endlessly through a place where sunlight had never existed.

Rows upon rows of trapped core members stood beneath a black sky. Some prayed, some cried, some simply stared into nothingness, waiting, always waiting.

A distant drum sounded. Boom. Every victim flinched. Boom. A second drum. Fear spread through the crowd.

Boom. A third. The trapped core members lowered their heads because they knew what the drums meant.

Someone had been chosen. From the darkness emerged masked men carrying burning torches. White chalk covered their bodies.

Red cloth hung from their waists. Their faces remained hidden behind carved wooden masks. The crowd parted.

No one dared stand in their way. One of the masked men carried a folded piece of cloth.

A name had been written upon it. The victims held their breath. The masked man slowly unfolded the cloth.

Silence. Then he spoke, “Victor.” A woman immediately burst into tears. A young man fell to his knees.

Someone whispered, “No.” The masked men stepped forward. Victor stood among the crowd. His face remained calm.

Too calm. Years of captivity had drained the fear from him. He slowly closed his eyes.

The crowd watched helplessly as the masked men seized him. Nobody moved. Nobody resisted because everyone knew what happened to the chosen.

Victor lifted his head. For a moment, he stared into the endless darkness above. Then he whispered, “Ada, the dream again.”

Ada sat upright in bed. A scream tore from her throat. Her entire body shook violently.

Sweat soaked her clothes. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. The dream again. The same dream, the same drums, the same darkness, the same terrified faces.

And Victor. Always Victor. The bedroom door bust open. Mama Grace rushed inside. Ada. Ada looked up.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. Mama Grace sat beside her immediately. My daughter. Ada struggled to breathe.

I have to help him. What? Ad grabbed her mother’s arm. Victor, I have to help him.

Fear flashed across Mama Grace’s face. Ada, he’s calling Mama. He’s still trapped. Her voice trembled.

Mama Gracie’s expression darkened. It’s just a dream, Ada. Ada slowly raised her shaking hand, then pulled back the sleeve of her nightshot.

The room fell silent. Dark finger marks wrapped around her wrist. Five distinct fingers as though someone had grabbed her with impossible force.

Mama Grace stared. The color drained from her face. For several seconds, neither spoke. Finally, Ada whispered.

It wasn’t a dream. Mama Grace swallowed. Ada, he touched me. Her voice cracked. Victor touched me.

Silence. Then Ada looked directly into her mother’s eyes. A terrible certainty filled her face.

They still alive. Mama Grace lowered her head. No, they’re still there. No, Victor is still there.

Fresh tears filled at her eyes. He saved me. Her voice broke. And now he’s going to die.

The older woman looked away because part of her already believed it. Ada slowly rose to her feet.

What are you doing? Ada wiped her eyes. I’m going back. Mama Grace stood up abruptly.

No. Ada grabbed her backpack. No, you barely survived the first time. They need me.

You could die. Ada stopped, then turned toward her mother. Her eyes burned with determination.

If I don’t go, she paused. Who will? The room fell silent. Mama Grace stared at her daughter, then slowly walked toward a small wooden cabinet.

She opened it, reached inside, and removed the Bible, the same one she gave Ada when she first traveled.

She placed it into Ada’s hands. Ada looked down, confused. Mama Grace’s eyes filled with tears as she gently touched her face.

If you are truly going back, her voice trembled. You will not go alone. The journey took all day.

By sunset, Ada found herself standing at the same bus stop, the same road, the same place where everything had begun.

Her stomach tightened. Nothing looked unusual. Vehicles passed, people walked by. Normal, ordinary, safe. Yet Ada knew better.

The road was waiting. She slowly stepped forward. The wind immediately changed. Cold, unnatural. A shiver ran through her body.

The hairs on her arms stood upright. The Bible felt heavier in her hand. Then she heard it.

A distant drum. Boom. Adafrons. The sound seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. Boom.

A second drum. The road ahead began disappearing beneath a thin layer of mist. Ada swallowed.

The festival had begun. She stepped onto the road. Immediately the world changed. The sounds of traffic vanished.

The evening sky darkened. The air grew still. No birds, no insects, no voices. Only silence.

And the drums. Boom, boom, boom. Ada continued walking. [snorts] The mist thickened around her.

Soon, the familiar environment emerged through the darkness. Her heart pounded. The giant tree still stood beside the road, exactly where she remembered it.

The same tree, the same place where she had first seen the old woman, [snorts] the same place where people had run indoors in terror.

The same place where Victor appeared. But now the old woman was gone. Ada looked around.

The road was empty. The bus stop was empty. No movement, no voices, nothing. A cold feeling settled in her chest.

Where are you? No answer, only silence. The drums continued. Boom. Boom. Boom. Ada tightened her grip on the Bible.

Confusion crept into her mind. What now? How was she supposed to find Victor? How was she supposed to find the ritual ground?

How was she supposed to stop Agalo? Then a voice spoke behind her. I wondered how long it would take.

Adas spun around. The old woman stood beneath the giant tree, waiting just as before.

Her face remained calm as though she had known this moment would come. As though she had been expecting her.

Ada rushed toward her. You know why I’m here. The old woman nodded. Yes, he’s alive.

The old woman said nothing. He’s trapped. Still silence. Please. Ada’s voice cracked. Tell me how to save him.

The old woman stared at her for several moments, then sighed, a deep, sorrowful sigh.

The boy should have let you go. Ada froze. What? He should have let you forget.

The old woman’s eyes filled with sadness. Because now she looked toward the forest, toward the distant drums.

Ajalu knows you’ve returned. The drums suddenly stopped. Silence swallowed the road. The old woman’s face changed.

Fear for the first time. Fear. Then she whispered, “We don’t have much time.” The old woman led at that deep into the forest.

The drums had started again. Slower now, heavier, like a heartbeat. Boom. Boom. Boom. The old woman walked in silence.

Other followed. The Bible remained pressed against her chest. Eventually, they arrived at a clearing.

In the center stood a massive tree older than anything Ada had ever seen. Its roots twisted across the ground like giant snakes.

The old woman stopped. For several moments, neither spoke. Then she pointed at the tree.

It started here. Ada stared. What started here? The old woman lowered herself onto a fallen log.

Ajalu. The name itself seemed to make the air colder. Ada felt a chill crawl down her spine.

The old woman continued. Long before roads, long before NYC. Long before this village became Okou.

Her eyes remained fixed on the ancient tree. Our people were dying from disease, hunger, and wars.

Entire families disappeared. Ada listened. The drums continued in the distance. Boom boom boom. We begged the ancestors for help.

The old woman’s voice grew softer and something answered. A jalu. The forest suddenly felt darker.

The old woman swallowed. At first, the spirit protected us. The crops returned. The sickness vanished.

The village prospered. Ada frowned. Then why is everyone afraid of him? The old woman laughed bitterly because every gift has a price.

Silence. The spirit demanded a sacrifice. Ada’s stomach tightened. The old woman nodded. One life every year.

The drums sounded again. Closer now. Boom. Boom. Boom. Ada felt sick. The villagers agreed.

The old woman’s eyes filled with shame. They were desperate. Silence. For generations, they obeyed.

Ada stared at the ground. But what does that have to do with core members?

The old woman closed her eyes. A shadow crossed her face. Then she spoke. Many years ago, a core member arrived during the night of the masked men.

The wind suddenly rose. The trees creaked. The old woman’s voice became heavier. He did something terrible.

A terrible thing to a daughter of this village. Ada remained silent. He violated her.

The drums continued. Boom. Boom. Boom. When the villagers found her, the old woman stopped.

Pain filled her eyes. She was dead. Silence. The village demanded justice, but the core member escaped.

Ada’s hands tightened around the Bible. The old woman pointed toward the darkness. That night, the elders went to Ajalu.

They begged him for vengeance. The drums became louder. He answered. Ada’s heart pounded. From that day onward, the old woman looked directly into her eyes.

Silence. The realization crashed into Ada. Victor. The photographs, the disappearances, everything. Then another question struck her.

The white people. The old woman’s expression darkened. What about them? Ada’s voice trembled. They aren’t victims.

The old woman slowly shook her head. No. Fear crawled through Ada’s chest. The old woman looked away.

The people in white gather the M. They lead them to Ajalu. They prepare the sacrifice.

Ada stared. Disbelief filled her face. You mean the old woman nodded. The village has been helping him.

The drums stopped. There was dead silence. Then somewhere deep in the forest, she heard a scream.

A man’s scream of agony, desperation, and terror. Ada froze. She knew that voice. Victor.

She spun toward the sound. Victor. The old woman grabbed her arm. No. Ada struggled.

We have to help him. The old woman’s grip tightened. We cannot help him yet.

Why? The old woman’s face turned pale. Because he has already been chosen. Silence. Ada’s blood ran cold.

The old woman looked toward the forest. Fear filled her eyes. The sacrifice begins before dawn.

The world seemed to stop. Ada stared. No. The old woman nodded slowly. Ajalu has chosen Victor.

The scream echoed again, closer this time, more desperate. Ada felt tears fill her eyes.

The old woman reached into her rapper, then removed a small carved object, a tiny clay replica of a calabash.

She placed it into Ada’s trembling hand. That she pointed toward it, is the reason Ajalu still exists.

Ada looked down, confused. The covenant is bound to a sacred calabash. The old woman’s voice dropped.

As long as it remains whole, Ajalu cannot be defeated. Silence. No one has ever broken it.

Why? The old woman’s eyes widened. Because no one who tried survived. The distant drum suddenly exploded back to life.

Boom. Boom. Boom. The ritual had begun. Ada slowly raised her head. Tears filled her eyes.

Determination replaced fear. Then I’ll be the first. The old woman slowly placed a small clay replica into Ada’s hand.

The real Calabash will be on the altar. Ada stared at it. The covenant is bound to it.

The drums continued. Boom. Boom. Boom. As long as it remains whole. The old woman’s voice trembled.

Ajalu cannot be defeated. Ada looked toward the distant fire light glowing through the trees.

What happens if I break it? For several seconds, the old woman said nothing. Then the covenant dies.

Hope flickered across Ada’s face. The old woman’s expression did not change. Or you do.

Silence. The drums grow louder. Boom. Boom. Boom. The old woman stepped backward. Fear filled her eyes.

Beyond this point, she pointed toward the forest. I cannot help you. Ada nodded. The Bible remained pressed against her chest.

The tiny clay calabash remained clenched in her hand. Then she turned and ran. The old woman remained standing beneath the ancient tree, watching, praying, listening as the drums swallowed the forest.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Ahead, the fire light grew brighter. And somewhere beyond it, Victor waited.

The old woman closed her eyes, then whispered, “If you don’t reach him by midnight,” Ada stopped, slowly turned.

The fear in the old woman’s face chilled her blood. The old woman swallowed, then said, “Ajalu will finally take him.”

Silence. The drums thundered through the forest. Boom! Boom! Boom! Ada’s heart pounded. “Where is he?”

The old woman raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the darkness, toward the source of the drums, toward the forest, the ritual ground.

Ada stared. The old woman’s eyes filled with tears. Then she spoke the words Ada had feared most.

The sacrifice has already begun. The world seemed to stop. No. The drums suddenly exploded louder than before.

Boom. Boom. Boom! Boom! Ada looked toward the darkness, toward the fire light, toward the place where Victor was waiting, not to be rescued, to be sacrificed.

Then she ran straight into the forest, straight toward the drums, straight toward Ajalu. Thanks for watching.

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