Mirabel, desperate for answers and contact with the outside world, slipped away to a secluded corner of the compound. Her hands trembled as she activated the communication device, hoping against hope for a connection.
At first, nothing. The screen remained blank, devoid of signal bars or any sign of life. She sighed, a wave of frustration washing over her. "Of course," she muttered to herself. "I forgot. This is 1858 Nigeria. Wi-Fi? Technology? They haven't even been invented here yet."
Just as she was about to give up, a faint flicker of light appeared on the screen, followed by a burst of static. Then, miraculously, signal bars appeared, climbing steadily towards full strength. Mirabel stared in disbelief, her eyes widening in astonishment.
"What the-" she began, but quickly cut herself off, remembering to keep her voice down. This was impossible. And yet, there it was – a strong, stable connection to something, somewhere, outside of this time and place.
Curiosity overriding her caution, she decided to track the signal, hoping it might lead her to some clue, some explanation for the impossible technology she was witnessing. She activated the tracking function on her device and followed the signal, winding her way through the labyrinthine corridors and courtyards of the compound.
The signal led her to a seemingly ordinary wall, but as she approached, she noticed a faint seam, a subtle imperfection in the brickwork. She pressed against the wall, and with a low rumble, a hidden door swung open, revealing a dark and narrow passage.
Hesitantly, she stepped inside, her hand hovering over her sidearm. The passage led downwards, into the depths of the compound, and as she descended, the air grew colder, the silence more profound.
Finally, she emerged into a vast, underground chamber. The space was dimly lit by flickering torches, casting long, dancing shadows across the walls. What she saw took her breath away.
The chamber was filled with sculptures of all shapes and sizes, crafted from a variety of materials – wood, stone, metal, clay,even bone. There were representations of animals both real and imagined, mythical creatures from folklore, and grotesque figures that seemed to embody nightmares. Some were small and delicate, others were towering and imposing. Some were cute, others, scary. Yet they were all beautiful.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" a voice said from behind her.
Mirabel whirled around, her hand instinctively reaching for her weapon. Standing in the shadows was Onome, her purple eyes glowing like torchlight.
"Please, don't be alarmed," Onome said, raising her hands in a gesture of peace. "I didn't mean to startle you." She adopted the smile she knew how to fake, to keep people at bay.
"What... what is this place?" Mirabel asked, her voice barely a whisper. "And what are you doing here?"
"This is my personal collection," Honome said, gesturing around the chamber with a sweep of her hand. "And I could ask you the same question, Adunni. What are you doing here?"
Mirabel cursed herself inwardly. She had forgotten that everyone here knew her only as Adunni, the new maid from Lagos.
"I… I got lost," she stammered, hoping Onome would buy her lie.
Onome chuckled softly." Don't worry , it happens more often than you you think. That's because the house is sentient it expands to accommodate more people and it changes to match the decade." She paused then walked In front of Mirabel ." Though it was built for us by the white men it was reinforced by our ancestral magic."
Mirabel felt a chill run down her spine as she looked at her feet trying to avoid eye contact . " why does every member of this family have to weird. And what's with the glowing eyes ?it's kinda scary ."She muttered under her breath .
As she looked up she found Onome studying her like how Ese was.
"You're different, you're not like the other maids. That's why Ese chose you without making you do anything to earn her trust."
"Wha….what do you mean?" Mirabel asked , her voice shaking in fear.
"Just by looking at you any witch can tell you're different almost supernatural if not beyond that ." Onome said still looking at mirabel like she's some kind of puzzle.
Mirabel, masking her apprehension with a feigned interest in the sculptures, carefully shifted the conversation away from herself. "I heard you're able to bring these to life," she said, gesturing to the surrounding artwork. "How?"
Onome's eyes lit up, a genuine enthusiasm replacing the initial suspicion. It was clear this was a topic she enjoyed discussing. "Every woman in our family is born with a special gift, separate from our witchcraft. A…natural talent, if you will." She paused, considering her words.
"My mother," she continued, her voice tinged with a hint of reverence, "was able to cause…or bless…people. To a great extent. My ability is…less direct. Ese can manipulate dreams and nightmares. She's able to bring your worst fears to life and shape your thoughts and perceptions, too." She said this with such nonchalance that made Mirabel shiver.
"And my sister,Ehogsa ,"Onome continued, her expression softening. "She's able to heal any sickness, speak to animals and plants, understand any magical creature and control nature to an extent too."
Her gaze then returned to Mirabel, a flicker of pride dancing in her eyes. "As for me…" She stepped closer to a clay sculpture of a bird, its intricate details capturing the texture and form of a real bird with uncanny accuracy. "I can bring clay figures to life."
With a dramatic flourish, she placed her hand on the bird sculpture. A surge of purple energy pulsed through her, radiating outwards and engulfing the sculpture in an ethereal glow. The bird began to tremble, and then, with a crack and a chirp ,it detached itself from the floor and flew into the air, flapping around the chamber with surprising speed and agility, causing Mirabel to duck and cover for her own safety.
Onome watched with a satisfied smirk, her expression shifting from pride to something more…calculating.
Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. The flying bird shuddered, its movements becoming erratic, and then, with a loud explosion, it disintegrated into a pile of muddy clay.
"Those ones can only last so long," Onome said dismissively, wiping her hands clean. "Mere puppets, animated by my will. But if you want them to truly last, to truly live…" She gestured towards a shrouded corner of the chamber. "That's where the real fun comes in."
With a dramatic reveal, she pulled away the covers, revealing two distinct objects. The first was a man, emaciated and weak, lying on a stone slab. His eyes were closed, his skin pale and lifeless. The second was a sculpture – a life-sized clay figure, strikingly realistic and undeniably familiar. Mirabel recognized it instantly. It was the creature that had dragged Emeka's body into the rift.
Onome placed one hand on the chest of the sleeping man, and the other on the head of the clay sculpture. Another surge of purple energy pulsed through her, this time more intense, more focused. The air crackled with power, and the sleeping man began to convulse, his body shaking violently.
His screams of pain seemed to fuel the process, the purple glow now enveloping both the man and the sculpture, and the energy turned white. Finally, with a gasp, the sculpture's eyes snapped open. No longer vacant and lifeless, they now burned with a fierce intelligence. The clay figure, once a mere imitation of life, slowly bent his knee in an act of obedience and submission.
"Now," Onome said, her voice laced with a chilling satisfaction, "he will serve me until his death."
Mirabel, fighting to maintain her composure, forced a weak smile. "That's…that's scary and impressive," she said, her voice trembling slightly. She knew she had to tread carefully, to avoid raising Onome's suspicions.
"So," she continued, trying to sound casual, "what about Christopher? What's his special ability?"
Onome's expression shifted, becoming distant, almost dismissive. "Christopher?" she said, as if struggling to recall who Mirabel was talking about. "Oh Eseosa. He's human," she said. "He doesn't have one."
Mirabel's brow furrowed. "But… he's an Igbinedion," she protested, using the term for a member of their family. "And he's immortal. So how is he human?"
Onome sighed, as if she was tired of explaining something she had repeated countless times. "Sit down, Adunni," she said, gesturing towards a nearby stone bench. "This is a long story."
Mirabel hesitated for a moment, then obeyed, settling onto the cold stone beside Onome.
Onome began to recount the history of her family, her voice taking on a formal, almost rehearsed tone. "Our family is known to be the most powerful witches in this region. Even when the British came to colonize us, they learned that the hard way." She spat, disgusted. "So, instead, they decided to ally with us. Smart move, right?
"The British gave us clothes, slaves, gold… even taught us how to speak English and built us this very house," she continued, gesturing around the chamber. "Later, of course, we reinforced it with our magic."
"But one of the white men in particular," Onome's voice dropped, taking on a darker edge, "a man named Sir Henry Edward… he had a strange interest in our family. He showered us with gifts, with… attentions. Things we never knew what to do with. Until…" Her voice trailed off, a hint of bitterness creeping in.
"Until our mother became pregnant for him," she said, her eyes hardening. "Our father tried to fight Sir Henry, to protect our mother's honor. But he was killed. Ese hated Sir Henry for that, hated the unborn child our mother was carrying, and hated our mother even more for not protecting our father, given her powers."
Onome paused, taking a deep breath. "Fast forward a few years. Christopher was born… Eseosa," she spat the word out with venom, "the first boy born into our bloodline. And he was born with no magic. Completely human."
"Our mother vowed to keep him safe, to keep his secret. She knew that if anyone from our bloodline found out, they would kill him. So, she gave him to his father, Sir Henry Edward, who took him to Britain."
"Everything was fine, for a while, then something happened. He was struck with a mysterious illness and his father went missing while looking for a cure. He was brought back to Nigeria, not to visit, as he usually did. His sickness threatened his life, but our mother did the unthinkable. She traded her life, her immortality, for his. Henceforth making him immortal but still human."