Tunde stepped cautiously through the newly revealed path, his breath still unsteady from facing the Spirit Beast. The trees grew taller here, their branches twisting into impossible shapes. The air felt heavier, charged with unseen energy.
The Iwin hovered beside him, its golden glow flickering nervously. "Be careful, traveler. We are entering the Trickster's domain."
Tunde frowned. "Trickster? Who's that?"
Before the Iwin could answer, a deep, amused laugh echoed through the trees.
"Ah, my dear little visitors! Welcome to my humble home."
Tunde spun around. A man stood before him, leaning lazily against a tree. He was dressed in a flowing red robe, his skin as dark as midnight, his eyes gleaming like polished ebony. His lips curled into a mischievous grin.
The Iwin gasped and darted behind Tunde's shoulder. "Ekwensu…"
Tunde's stomach twisted. He had heard the stories. Ekwensu the Igbo god of trickery, chaos, and deception.
Ekwensu tilted his head, his grin widening. "Oh? You know my name already? Good. That will make this easier."
Tunde took a step back. "I don't want any trouble."
Ekwensu let out a mocking sigh. "Ah, but you are already in trouble, little traveler. You see, no one passes through my domain without playing my game."
Tunde clenched his fists. "What kind of game?"
Ekwensu snapped his fingers, and three wooden cups appeared before him, floating in midair. He waved his hand, and a tiny golden orb appeared under the middle cup.
"Simple," Ekwensu said. "Keep your eyes on the golden orb. If you pick the right cup, you win. If you pick the wrong cup…" He flashed a sharp-toothed grin. "…you belong to me."
The Iwin trembled. "Traveler, this is dangerous. Tricksters do not play fair."
Tunde took a deep breath. He had no choice. If he refused, he would never leave this place.
He nodded. "Let's play."
Ekwensu chuckled and waved his hands. The cups began to move slow at first, then faster, spinning and shifting across the air.
Tunde focused hard, his eyes never leaving the golden orb.
Left. Right. Middle. Right again. Faster. Faster.
Then they stopped.
Ekwensu spread his arms. "Well? Choose."
Tunde's fingers hovered over the cups. He had followed the orb carefully. He was sure it was under the left cup.
But then his wrist tingled.
The Àdìrẹ cloth glowed softly, its swirling white patterns pulsing like a heartbeat.
A whisper brushed against his ear.
"Look beyond sight."
Tunde frowned. Look beyond sight?
His gut twisted. What if the trickster had cheated? What if the golden orb was never under any of the cups?
Slowly, he looked up at Ekwensu's face.
The trickster was smirking but his left hand was clenched into a fist.
Tunde's eyes widened. The golden orb was never under the cups. Ekwensu had hidden it in his hand.
Taking a deep breath, he pointed. "The orb is in your hand."
Ekwensu's smirk froze.
For a long moment, there was silence.
Then he threw back his head and laughed.
"Clever boy!" he crowed, clapping his hands. "You are wiser than you look."
With a snap of his fingers, the golden orb vanished. The cups disappeared. The trees shifted once again, revealing the path forward.
Ekwensu grinned. "You win this round, traveler. But beware tricksters always find a way to play again."
And just like that, he was gone.
Tunde let out a shaky breath. He had won.
But deep inside, he knew the hardest part of the journey was still ahead.
The Forgotten Shrine
Tunde's legs ached as he walked deeper into the forest, the echoes of Ekwensu's laughter still lingering in his mind. The Iwin floated beside him, its golden glow flickering with unease.
"You were lucky," the Iwin whispered. "Tricksters never play fair. Be careful, traveler."
Tunde sighed. "I know. But we don't have time to be afraid."
The trees around them began to thin, and up ahead, a large stone structure emerged from the shadows. It was ancient, covered in vines and moss, yet strangely untouched by time. The air here was different heavier, almost sacred.
The Iwin's glow brightened. "A shrine… This is the resting place of the Guardian's wisdom."
Tunde stepped forward, brushing his fingers along the stone surface. Strange symbols were carved into the walls Nsibidi writing, the sacred script of the ancients. He couldn't read it, but something about it felt… familiar.
At the center of the shrine stood a tall stone tablet, cracked down the middle. At its base lay an old, wooden staff wrapped in red cloth.
Tunde's breath caught. The Guardian's Staff. He had found it.
But as he reached out,
A deep voice rumbled through the air.
"Only the worthy may claim what is lost."
The ground trembled. Dust rose from the cracks in the shrine, and before Tunde's eyes, the stone tablet began to glow. The carved symbols rearranged themselves, forming a new message.
The Iwin gasped. "A riddle! You must solve it, or we may never leave this place."
Tunde's eyes narrowed as the glowing Nsibidi symbols formed words in his mind:
"I am not alive, yet I grow.
I have no lungs, yet I need air.
I have no mouth, yet I devour.
What am I?"
Tunde felt his heartbeat quicken. He had heard this riddle before his grandmother had told him stories of ancient guardians who tested warriors with such puzzles.
He thought hard. Something that grows but isn't alive… needs air… devours things…
Then it hit him.
"Fire," he said aloud.
The shrine fell silent.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the stone tablet split open, revealing a small golden ember burning at its core. The ember rose into the air, circling Tunde before settling into the wood of the Guardian's Staff.
The Iwin gasped in awe. "The flame of wisdom… The Guardian has accepted you."
Tunde grasped the staff, feeling a surge of warmth and power flow through him. He had passed the test.
But just as relief settled in,
The shrine trembled violently. The ancient walls began to crack, the symbols fading.
The Iwin's glow flickered urgently. "Traveler, something is coming!"
Tunde spun around just in time to see the shadows move.
From the darkness of the trees, figures emerged, their glowing eyes locking onto him.
Silent warriors. Dressed in old battle armor. Watching. Waiting.
Tunde's fingers tightened around the staff.
His journey wasn't over yet.