Night fell fast, almost like it meant to catch the village by surprise. It didn't have the old easy calm that Ajeji used to know. Honestly, it felt more like a warning settling in: heavy, watchful. The sky got dark in its usual lazy way, but the shadows under the trees grew deeper, quicker, like something was creeping in.
Adegboyega sat outside his house, back pressed against the cool mud wall, lantern flickering by his side. That little flame couldn't sit still tonight. It trembled as if something in the dark made it nervous too.
Sleep? Not tonight. Each time Ade closed his eyes, the shrine greeted him, always the crack at the base, those odd symbols, that prickling sense that whatever was inside had noticed him.
He ran a hand across his face, slow and tired. "This isn't normal," he muttered.
From somewhere off, voices drifted over, just scraps of talk from other villagers who couldn't sleep either. Everyone pretended things were fine, but the truth? Fear still lived here. It just wore a new mask.
Something rapped gently at Ade's door.
He sat up. "Who's there?"
"It's me," came a familiar voice. Baba Ikuomola.
Ade stood and let him in. Baba's face looked grim, even more than usual.
"You're not sleeping," Baba said.
"Tried," Ade answered. "No luck."
"Good. You can still sense it."
Ade frowned, not sure what Baba meant. "Sense what?"
But Baba just sat down and said, "Tell me. Since we came back from the shrine, what have you noticed?"
Ade hesitated, searching for words. "It's like something's wrong with the ground. Not the surface. Deeper." He paused. "Almost like it's moving. A vibration. Very faint. Like a heartbeat, maybe."
Baba's eyes sharpened. "Go on."
"It's just this weird feeling. I can't shake it."
Suddenly, the lantern's flame danced wildly.
"You're hearing it," Baba said, almost whispering.
"Hearing what?" Ade asked.
Baba leaned in. "The voice beneath the earth."
Ade stared at him. The room felt cold, empty for a long second.
"What do you mean, 'voice beneath the earth'?"
Baba let out a slow breath. "Long ago, when the shrine was built, it wasn't just a seal, it was meant to suppress something."
"Suppress?" Ade echoed.
"Yes. What's under that shrine isn't completely trapped. It's quiet because it's forced to be. Held down. But with the crack we saw…" Baba's gaze grew troubled. "That means the restraint's failing."
Ade started pacing, nervous. "Maybe that explains the shadows, but this…heartbeat…"
"It's not just a feeling," Baba said. "It's trying to talk."
Ade stopped dead. "You mean it's reaching out to us?"
Baba's eyes were flat. "Not us. You."
A chill zipped down Ade's spine. "Why me?"
"You faced it and came back. Now you're on its radar."
Ade shook his head. "That's...that doesn't even make sense."
"Some things are older than sense," Baba said. "Older than logic."
Ade pressed himself back against the wall, brain racing. "So…now what?"
"Now, we confirm it," Baba said, standing up.
"Confirm what?"
"That it's reaching for you."
They stepped out into the night. The air was cool and tight, wind barely breathing.
"Close your eyes," Baba said.
"Now?" Ade hesitated.
"Now."
Ade closed his eyes, swallowing hard.
"Focus. Forget the village, forget me, just listen for what's below."
At first, there was nothing but silence. Then a faint rhythm began to stir, soft but steady.
A dull thud.
A pause.
Then another.
His breath slowed as he listened. The rhythm grew stronger. When he opened his eyes, he didn't hesitate. "I hear it."
Baba only nodded. "Good. Listen harder."
Ade squeezed his eyelids shut again. Thump. Thump.
But now, there was a whisper so faint he almost missed it.
…Ade…
He snapped back, stumbling.
"It said my name."
Baba's face darkened. "It's started."
Ade's heart jackhammered. "What is it? What's down there?"
Baba didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was quiet. "It isn't a spirit, not like you think. It's older than the village, older than the shrine. Older than most things people remember."
Ade tried to swallow. "And it knows me now?"
"Yes."
He glanced out at the dark forest where the well-kept paths ended. "What does it want?"
"To be free," Baba said, voice almost lost in the gloom.
Suddenly, a scream cracked through the air, sharp and wild. Both men broke into a run.
By the time they reached the far side of the village, a crowd had gathered. In the center, a young man lay twitching on the dirt.
Ade pushed through. "What happened?"
A woman shook her head. "No one knows. He just fell."
The young man's eyes rolled. He was mumbling.
Ade bent close.
"…it is coming…"
And just like that, his body went still.
People gasped. Ade looked at Baba. "This is connected."
Baba's answer was slow, grim. "Yes. It's spreading."
Ade just stood there, the voices and fear closing in around him, the shrine, the whisper, and that ancient beat beneath the ground. This wasn't just about him anymore.
Ade's fist clenched. "Then let's stop it."
Baba shrugged. "You're not ready."
"Then get me ready," Ade said, voice hard.
All around them, the lanterns wobbled, weak against the dark. There was no hiding fear now. Every face showed it.
Ade looked at his village, his home, his people. Whatever lived beneath the shrine was coming, and it was coming for everyone.
He stood straighter, meeting Baba's gaze. "Tell me what to do."
Baba just nodded. "Tomorrow. We begin."
As the crowd drifted off, Ade stared at the ground. For a heartbeat, it was there, the pulse, stronger now and close enough that he could almost feel it humming through his bones.