18°41'34.2"N 12°55'10.6"E

  In the Cúró Jòró, Bilma, Niger

  24.05.2024 – 01:30 UTC +01

  I was mistaken. I faced open eyes, vaguely blank and staring at me only by accident.

  It was not Tiwalade.

  On the bed, a man in his early twenties lay pale, his mouth contorted in what looked like a silent scream, with wide open eyes. The details of his face remained fuzzy under the darkness’ veil. I closed my eyes and opened them again, trying to adjust. I did not need to check for a pulse, as the Hearing told me everything. The man was very much dead.

  “What is this?” I said to myself.

  Had Yahaya come and killed him? Was Tiwalade safe – or had she had anything to do with this? I recalled her referring to more people; maybe she did not know? Who was this man?

  I slowly backed out of the room, not taking my eyes off him until I shut the door.

  “Focus. You are here to find Yahaya,” I said. That was all that mattered. I did not have to solve the mysteries of this warded place. Unless I had to.

  I ran to the next room. I opened the door there as well, somehow expecting what I would face. Slightly differently decorated, with additional gym equipment. But again, another young man lay pale on the bed, a terrified expression on his face mirroring mine.

  I stepped out of the second man’s room.

  What if Tiwalade was already dead? And she was my key to finding Yahaya?

  “Khalida?” Tiwalade, sleepy, was standing in the corridor. “What happened?”

  I turned, my breath caught between my teeth. She was alright, for now. The windows of the corridor illuminated her face just enough to discern her expression. Clueless. But innocent? No. Her heart was restless. I could Hear her. She was afraid, anxious, confused even, like she was when I meant her earlier. And for some reason, she was demonstrating her best acting in front of me.

  I walked up to her, but kept my distance. I was ready to cut to the chase.

  “Where is Yahaya, girl? What is this place?”

  “What do you mean, what is…”

  “Focus!” I raised my hand, pointing at her. “Where is your Miss?”

  My breathing stopped for a moment. Just like in Dáwù Fált?? the day before. When I made everyone listen and obey. I felt her breathing stop and then reverse. She wrinkled her nose, stiffening the muscles between her eyes: she tried to fight back for a moment, but I had gotten her by surprise. Her eyes mellowed, and her pulse stabilized.

  Her heart was mine.

  “She never says, where she goes,” Tiwalade said, “it will be fine, though. I can guide you.”

  “What about the dead men in these rooms?”

  “Casualties. Unintended. But you are not here for them, are you? You are here for my Mistress.”

  Her honesty disarmed me. I had a thousand questions. But then again, the Calling decided I had wasted enough time for an evening. It commanded me, and then I commanded her:

  “Show me, Tiwalade, her chambers.”

  It wanted me to advance faster, more efficiently. To follow that girl, wherever she might lead me. With whatever Curses or sins she bore.

  I saw her smile. It was not forced, it was honest, and her dark skin glistened against the moonlight.

  “Of course, Khalida.”

  Tiwalade walked fast, and I followed. Far from the Dorms with the dead lying men, past the Garden and the scree slopes of orange, to the Tibesti Wing. To the wall, the one she had to unravel for me.

  She headed right into it, her entire body swinging in inspired movements more akin to a dance than a simple flick of the wrist, a dance choreographed by someone more experienced than her, even. It would have taken me at least an hour to break this one, I was sure.

  As she headed right into the wall, it unwrapped, wrapped, and unwrapped again to reveal a staircase. Its shape was slightly malformed at the edges of each step, and it vibrated almost in anticipation of us stepping onto it. Unstable and excited.

  I swallowed uncomfortably as I saw Tiwalade climb the stairs, and as she did, more steps and shapes appeared, revealing the path forward. It was multiple Manifolds, almost every step revealing the next. I was wrong. With enough time, I could have eventually broken it on my own if I had to, but it would have been a matter of hours, if not days.

  I followed her steps. I looked behind us at the wall and the stairs wrapping again, hiding the view of the Garden. There was only going forward now.

  I counted thirty steps for us to reach the next floor. A door, not unlike the door to the Veranda, sealed the entrance. Tiwalade pushed at the door, which resisted her will. I saw her lay her forehead against it.

  “But I have to get past. I have to, I must. And could not. But I have to…” she said, going into a spiral of impulsive thinking, banging her head slightly against the door. Her Nabd was irregular, her Heart did not have direction. I had to remind her.

  I touched her shoulder.

  “You are doing all right, girl. Remember, we need to get to your Mistress.”

  She turned to me, eyes full of tears and desperation.

  “She will kill me. For what I have done. What I have seen,” she said, her hands pushing against the immovable door.

  There it was, that same fear from before. There was history here; something had happened between that witch and her disciple. That fear was what I had to break through. I leaned forward.

  “No, Tiwalade. You will kill her. With me on your side, you are unstoppable,” I said. She nodded and I smiled. I heard the door shake, its Manifold ward succumbing to the girl’s talents, no longer subdued by her fear. I just had to bolster her confidence: “I won’t let her harm you. With me, you will defeat her.”

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  “Yes, yes, that is right,” Tiwalade said, “with you.”

  I nodded, and the door unlocked. The inner sanctum of the witch was revealed. I took a step back. The room’s east side was covered in circular windows, letting the moonshine in and gifting us a nice view of the city of Bilma. Another Veranda. A small, private one – but with no markings. Perhaps it was only cosmetic, or it waited for another hexed use. The room itself had wooden furniture around its perimeter, along with a big bed that was left in a visible mess.

  What triggered my awe and still beckoned my Calling was, however, in the center of this circular room. It was meters wide from both sides, and it seemed designed in proper scale: a whole model of Bilma, all hand-carved in wood.

  “She is… unique,” Tiwalade said, “but she has her reasons. She says she is trying to protect Bilma. She is very strong, but I have you.”

  I ignored her.

  My Calling was moving me, filling me with confidence, as I stepped towards the miniature Bilma. Yet, I felt my skin tingling as I surveyed the wooden replica of the city.

  I walked around it until I started orienting myself. There were details in each pool and oasis, the sky-high buildings, the parks, the neighborhoods, and the cliffs to the East. I found Aisa’s club, and my eyes widened. The wood was covered by black stains as if dark dye was poured over it, again and again.

  “What are you looking for?” Tiwalade asked. I ignored her, again.

  I walked around the circle once more, scanning the city’s wooden model for any other recognizable location. And there it was, the Baobab Inn, with the Upside-Down trees, where we had been staying for the past few days.

  I initially felt a surge of horror and worry. My Calling subdued them, leaving me with a twisted sense of breathlessness. The Inn’s wooden model was splattered in a dark red substance, which pooled and dried around the trees.

  The symbolism was not subtle. It looked so much like real blood stains that I even wondered if she had used her blood to paint the model.

  “Khalida, do you need me to guide you?”

  All I could do was hear my blood pulsate and fill me with anger at the sight of the Inn marked with red paint.

  “That witch saw me coming,” I said. Not just through Africa, but also through her town. Was my Calling leading me to her all along? Or was she plotting our meeting?

  “Khalida, do you need me to guide you?” Tiwalade insisted.

  “Shut up.”

  I raised my hand. That was enough of her bickering. I took a deep breath in again. I felt Tiwalade’s pulse entirely stop. My Calling nudged me further, whispering a word in my ears and planting it on my lips.

  “Sharara,” I commanded. Her pulse reversed, and reversed again, or at least it felt like that. Her eyes stared blankly right at me.

  This was new. My Calling was making me stronger, but I guessed what that was. A feeling. I knew what to say.

  “You will lead me to your witch. Your Curse will open the path.”

  Tiwalade, completely silent, walked clumsily to the window of the room. Her movements were as cold as her heart, which was now beating backwards faster. Tiwalade started praying in her native tongue, while the circular windows started shifting like a kaleidoscope.

  “So much for this part of Niger being the safe one,” I said. I recalled how we made a point of going through Bilma to avoid the surrounding Nitaq of Cursed, more powerful than us; yet somehow here I was, tangled in a confusing Cursed mystery.

  The wide circular windows of Yahaya’s inner sanctuary were spinning and turning faster. As light refracted through them from the outside, you could spot all the colors of the rainbow. The iridescent colors swirled faster, revealing a new hidden nature to Tiwalade’s Curse.

  I started laughing. I had done this: I had sparked something in Tiwalade’s Curse and willed it to bloom into something potent.

  Tiwalade stopped and waited for my command, and the window was replaced by a pool of colorful glass. A portal into an unknown destination.

  “I guess we step in now,” I merely suggested, but I knew this was another command for the young girl. She walked towards the revolving glass and passed through it.

  Before I followed her, I looked around Yahaya’s room. I knew my Calling would lead me back here. To a tilted Garden of flowers, and the shattered window of the Veranda. There was something important in this Inside Cliff. But first, I had to piece together the mystery of how Aisa, Yahaya, and my stay in Bilma were connected. And Tiwalade would lead me, with her Curse.

  I followed through the shifting glass. I did not feel hurt by it, but the sensation was certainly one of uneasiness. I shifted and turned as well, spiraling in and out of its rhythmic movement and out of Tiwalade’s manifold ward.

  ? ? ?

  The first steps were hard, as bright shifting light engulfed me. Then darkness followed, and an echo of my breath, akin to the echo of a cave. I turned around, and as my eyes adapted to the darkness, I found myself in a thin corridor with golden glass walls that emitted a faint golden light.

  “What is this place?” I asked Tiwalade, who stood right in front of me. She did not speak, still enthralled by my grasp over her heart.

  I raised my hand and pointed at her. I exhaled and sensed her heart’s rhythm taking a more natural pace.

  As the girl’s eyes flickered from mindless to conscious, she launched into running.

  “No,” I said, my hand still raised, and she obeyed, her run stopping before it even started. “You are still mine. Don’t make me do this to your young heart.”

  “What do you want?”

  “What is this place?” I ignored her question. I did not care to enlighten her.

  The girl bit her lip as she considered her options, while I left my hand purposefully raised.

  “This is a manypath. I had never made one of this scale before. We are walking through Bilma, but it is all twisted,” she said.

  “And how can we find our way in here?” I asked as I lowered my hand.

  “Depends on the intentions of the maker.”

  “Then this shall lead us to your mistress Yahaya,” I concluded. Tiwalade bit her bottom lip again as I passed next to her and followed the golden path. She did not follow.

  “Come,” I insisted, and she obeyed.

  The more we walked, the more the nature of this manypath eluded me. Sometimes, its walls turned thinner and let me see beyond them the landscape of Bilma, twisted and reversed. Other times, its walls became so thick and dark, as if we were diving into the deepest of mines.

  Not more than five minutes had passed when the right wall of the corridor had thinned, turning almost to a window to a peculiar world. I approached and tried to look past the glass divide: a landscape reversed upside-down, Bilma’s buildings with their vines spreading from roof to ground.

  “Why is Bilma upside down?” I asked for no response. Tiwalade looked outside as well, but was more terrified than excited. I forgot. She needed confidence to be reliable. I changed my tune once again. “What are you so afraid of? I told you, I am with you.”

  Her eyes turned to me, untrusting. I lifted my hand and caressed her cheek.

  “I only hold your heart to help you, believe me,” I said.

  She did not believe me, but she wished she could. It was less scary if my intentions could be pure.

  “I don’t know where this path leads,” she said, “but I was taught that manypaths open for a reason. Maybe you are the reason.”

  Her voice echoed in the corridor, with a hint of longing. Her eyes looked at me in expectation.

  “I doubt I am the reason for anything, Tiwalade,” I answered, “I am just here to be good by your side. Now, move.”

  We kept walking for at least twenty minutes. I checked my phone for reception in regular intervals: nothing. Tiwalade’s attitude changed by the minute, and although silent, she walked next to me with confidence by the time we reached our destination.

  It was a crossroads. The manypath continued forward, but on the left, a swirling golden glass wall indicated a gate similar to the one she had opened. Another portal. I tried to peer through it.