The Emissary of the Stars
Between ancient legends and cosmic whispers, one soul stands at the crossroads of light and shadow.
Deep within the West African rainforests, where the rustling leaves seemed to murmur ancient legends, Ade’s eyes snapped open. In this village, time seemed to stand still, with an air thick with memories of days long past. In this close-knit community, names were exchanged with the familiarity of old friends. Mud and thatch houses stood shoulder to shoulder in a circular embrace around a central communal heart. Here, the rhythm of daily life played out, from the hum of daily chores to the vibrant beats of festive celebrations.
The previous night, as the village reveled under a rare celestial dance, the air grew thick with whispered prophecies. Yet, the thought of being at its very core had never crossed Ade’s mind. Village legends told of spirits wandering the forests, gods casting protective gazes upon the people, and age-old rituals bridging the living with their ancestors. Ade’s heart raced, each beat mirroring the silent footsteps of unseen spirits as cold droplets of sweat formed on his brow. Pushing himself upright on his mat, he took deep breaths, seeking calm while the morning birdsong seeped through the shutters.
As the room slowly brightened with dawn’s first light, Ade felt a tightening grip of unease as if draped in a heavy shroud. Electric tingles pricked his skin, and sweat slicked his palms while he forced his features into a mask of calm. His heart pounded with a deep-rooted fear, yet there was a flutter of inexplicable excitement in his stomach. It felt as if an alien force pulsed within him, whispering urgent secrets.
Glancing down, Ade’s eyes shot open, his breath stalling. Unfamiliar, otherworldly symbols danced and shimmered across his arms and chest, their soft glow contrasting with the morning light. “What sorcery is this?” With a surge of panic propelling him, he leaped from his bed, stumbling outside. Birdsong, once melodious, now twisted into a jarring cacophony, grating against his ears.
With panic clouding his vision, Ade’s steps felt as though they were sinking into the earth, as if the ground itself gripped his feet, sensing his urgency. Drawn to the sacred river—a place where many villagers sought purification—he hoped its waters could wash away the mysterious marks branding him. Sprinting and weaving between the trees that appeared to close in on him, memories of village tales—of enchanted beings and cursed souls—danced before his eyes. Had he become one of those tales? Questions swirled in his mind, a desperate thirst for answers driving him. Vines, reminiscent of tendrils from the spirit world, lashed at his face and arms, seemingly trying to halt his frenzied escape.
At last, Ade emerged from the treeline, landing on the pebbly riverbank, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Taking handfuls of the pristine water, he splashed it onto his face and limbs, scrubbing fervently at the luminescent symbols. Yet, as he peered into the water’s shimmering reflection, the symbols persisted on his skin, their glow taunting him.
Ade’s chest heaved, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. His eyes flitted from one corner to the next, desperate for a sign to explain the cryptic markings. Could he trust his own mind anymore? Were malevolent spirits playing tricks on him? The markings glowed with a life of their own, their rhythm mirroring the erratic beat of his heart. With every pulse, they seemed to murmur age-old secrets, tales of might and fate still beyond Ade’s grasp. Cold sweat beaded his forehead, and his fingers quivered, reaching for an understanding that danced just beyond his fingertips.
Echoes of village legends danced in Ade’s thoughts, each vying to explain the inexplicable. He recalled Olokun, the deity of abyssal waters, who occasionally left his mark on those he cherished. Or could it be the handiwork of Sango, the tempestuous god of thunder and lightning?
Did he anger a spirit? Or was he chosen for a divine purpose? Doubt consumed him, making his heart race faster. “Ade!” Moremi’s voice, trembling slightly, pierced the chaotic storm in Ade’s thoughts. She had woken at dawn, trailing him, alarmed by his hasty departure from their home. “What’s wrong?” Moremi’s voice softened as she approached him from behind.
Ade paused, his eyes darting between the ground and Moremi, conflicted about sharing the truth or shielding her from the mystery. Moremi, often asking questions and stepping in front of danger, had always been Ade’s confidante. Their bond was unbreakable, forged through shared joys and sorrows. He spun around to meet her gaze, ready to show the eerie symbols, but his voice caught in his throat. Moremi’s eyes, usually so observant, glossed over the glowing symbols as if they were invisible to her. She did not seem to see them at all. Could they just be figments of his imagination? Ade’s fingers trembled, hidden behind him.
He swallowed, his throat tight, as words crumbled on his tongue. “Moremi,” his voice a fragile whisper, “I can’t find the right words. Give me a moment.”
Moremi’s brow furrowed, skepticism evident in her eyes. Whispers had woven through the village about Baba Femi, the elder ensconced in the forest’s heart, guardian of age-old traditions, a bridge between the seen and unseen. And while her heart tethered tightly to Ade, she wouldn’t let him face such dangers unarmed.
Ade’s shoulders slumped as he made his way back, each step heavy with thought. Mud-brick homes and thatched roofs stood as silent witnesses to his return to the village that had always been his sanctuary. On market days, it came alive: traders’ voices bartering, the riot of colours from draped fabrics, spices tickling the nose. Children’s laughter danced in the fields while the inviting scent of simmering soups beckoned all.
With each step, the ground seemed to pull him down, the once-familiar chirps and rustles now distant whispers. It was as if a thick fog separated him from the world he once embraced. The symbols on his skin burned, not from heat but from a deeper, internal sting. He lowered his gaze, letting it skim over the villagers’ feet as they fetched water, mended roofs, and stoked cookfires. Their indifference to his marked skin was palpable; their silence was louder than words.
A chasm of isolation yawned around Ade, separating him from familiar faces. Eyes that once greeted him warmly now darted away, their whispers curling around him like cold fingers. The village, his sanctuary, had transformed into a maze of unfamiliar shadows. Each glance thrown his way carried the weight of unspoken doubts and apprehensions. The air clung to his lungs, resisting each breath as though the very essence of the village pushed him away. His newfound abilities, both a gift and a curse, sat on his shoulders, a mantle he was still learning to wear.
In the enveloping silence, Ade felt the power within him roil and surge, a tempest threatening to break free. Every dawn brought a new challenge, a delicate balance between harnessing and unleashing the force that pulsed within. Only one person held the answers he sought: Baba Femi, the village’s revered scholar. The winding trail to Baba Femi’s abode, nestled among ancient trees with roots sprawling like the hands of time, was one Ade had traversed often in his youth, hungry for tales and knowledge. While the forest usually teemed with the chatter of squirrels and birds, today it held its breath as though sharing in Ade’s anticipation.
As Ade approached Baba Femi’s secluded hut nestled on the village’s edge, he paused, taking in the dense woods that whispered tales of Baba Femi’s herb-gathering for his potent remedies. Symbols, each telling the story of a deity or spirit, decorated the dwelling. Carvings of animals thought to stand guard over the village and masks worn in dances to honour the gods during festivals caught his eye. Taking a deep breath to muster courage, Ade’s voice broke the silence with a greeting.
From the shadows of the hut, an elderly figure stepped out, his cloudy eyes squinting against the patches of sunlight filtering through the trees. As he caught sight of Ade, a spark of recognition lit up his weathered face. His eyes then traveled to the luminous symbols on Ade’s skin, causing Baba Femi to inhale sharply.
“Every hundred years, the prophecy unfolds,” Baba Femi murmured with a hint of awe, beckoning Ade nearer. Elders’ whispers often filled the village about the celestial alignment, the cosmic dance that signaled the Emissary’s ascent. During this alignment, the village would come alive in a grand festival—dances, songs, and offerings made to win the gods’ favour and blessings. Legends spoke of the chosen one, destined to shoulder the universe’s weight, shining brightly during the bleakest times. “You bear the mark, the chosen Emissary destined to bridge worlds.”
For hours, Baba Femi unraveled the ancient legend, often overlooked in common tales, of the Emissary of the Stars. Every hundred years, celestial powers, too vast for human comprehension, chose a soul to bridge the gap between our world and the boundless cosmos. As the tale unfolded, Ade’s eyes mirrored the vastness of the universe, and his thoughts spiraled, grappling with the gravity of who he was becoming.
The chosen one wielded gifts beyond imagination: they could tear open the fabric of reality to peer into other dimensions, channel raw energy, and twist the threads of time. Village tales spoke of Emissaries who summoned rain from clear skies during parched seasons, breathed life back into the ailing, and whispered to the ancestors when darkness loomed. Yet, this boundless power cast a shadow—a relentless craving for human essence, threatening to shatter the Emissary’s very soul. Legends often whispered of a maiden, either of distinguished blood or indomitable spirit, taking on this mantle. But the stars had set their gaze on Ade, an unassuming villager devoid of any celebrated lineage or spirit. What secret did they glimpse within him, hidden even from himself?
Five generations ago, a nobleman named Esan bore the title of Emissary. Corrupted by insatiable power, he cast shadows of torment and devastation across the land until a blade silenced him forever. Ade hung onto every word, a mix of dread and wonder etched on his face. Memories surged—of restless nights filled with dreams where he soared among stars, unchained from earthly bonds, with a relentless hunger tearing at his very being.
Baba Femi leaned in, his voice a whisper: “The strength of your abilities ties directly to your Emissary bloodline.” He then gestured to a fractured clay pot in the hut’s shadowy corner. Ade’s brow tightened, and the symbols on his skin ignited with a fierce luminescence. He fixed his gaze on the vessel, feeling the weight of its imperfections. The surrounding air vibrated with tension, and as Ade watched, the jagged lines on the pot melded, restoring its unblemished form.
Ade’s eyes stretched open, and he staggered back, transfixed by the now flawless pot.
“Your lineage pulses with immense potential, but it’s shadowed by peril.” Baba’s eyes darkened, a storm of emotions swirling within. “Beware the ravenous hunger within; it threatens to erase your humanity. Power is not your sole purpose.”
After his profound conversation with Baba Femi, Ade retreated to the depths of the Forest of the Unknown Gods. Towering trees, their trunks entwined with thick vines and adorned with offerings from wary villagers, stood sentinel. Amidst this silent audience, Ade delved deep into meditation, striving to harness his burgeoning powers and quell the dark temptations lurking within.
As days blurred into nights, sweat dripped from Ade’s brow, his muscles aching from the relentless training. He grappled with the tempestuous force within, threatening to engulf him. With each passing day, his fingers danced with precision, tearing open the fabric of reality to reveal swirling neon realms and shimmering alien terrains. Yet, every touch of these realms left his eyes dimmer and his breaths shallower. The gnawing hunger within whispered seductively, tempting him to drain the life from others.
With a grimace, Ade pushed down the monstrous urges, drawing instead on the shimmering energy of the stars to nourish him. Every victory, no matter how small, lit a spark of hope in his eyes. Alone, he’d sit, his gaze lost in the horizon, battling the relentless hunger gnawing at his core. Echoes of the villagers’ voices—whispers of their fears, laughter of their joys, murmurs of their dreams—reminded him of the weight of his responsibility. The once soothing rustle of leaves and chirping of crickets now taunted him, echoing the magnitude of his power and its looming cost.
At night, the forest bathed in tranquillity, punctuated only by the symphony of insects and the rare piercing cry of a hunting owl. However, this night was different; a palpable tension hung in the air, foretelling impending events. The distant clamour of voices and the flickering glow weaving through the trees on this moonless night sent a chill down Ade’s spine.
Moving stealthily to the forest’s edge, Ade’s eyes narrowed on a band of rugged men, their weapons glinting and reddish bandanas contrasting the darkness as they emerged from the shadows. Their prize: Jade, her resistance evident in every step, a familiar face from Ade’s past.
A chill slithered down Ade’s spine, causing his heart to miss a beat. The sight of the raiders from Ata Town, the upriver community notorious for coveting the village’s fertile lands, sent fragmented memories of past raids rushing back. His fists clenched, and his breaths came in short, uneven gasps.
Homes reduced to smouldering ashes, and innocent lives snuffed out prematurely. The raiders had taken Ade’s parents, leaving him to the mercy of Moremi’s kindness. Jade’s narrow escape that night still haunted him. A familiar sense of helplessness bubbled up, only to be consumed by a burning rage. He vowed to never be a mere spectator again.
The raiders’ shouts echoed, their intent clear: use Jade to lure the villagers. Ade felt a raw power pulsing within, a hunger craving the raiders’ very essence. His symbols glowed fiercely as he burst from the forest’s edge, catching the raiders off guard. They hesitated for a moment, then charged, but Ade’s movements, powered by unseen forces, were too swift and potent.
Shadows spiraled from Ade’s hands, extinguishing the life in the raiders’ eyes. Each thud of a body hitting the ground synchronised with the pounding in his ears. Overwhelmed by the surge of newfound energy, Ade let out a triumphant howl. But as the echoes faded, he took in the carnage around him, the weight of his actions pressing down.
Amidst the aftermath, Ade met Jade’s horrified gaze. The triumphant rush drained away, replaced by a creeping shame. He had shielded Jade from one danger, but had he unleashed another?
In the days following the slaughter, as Ade walked through the village, children who once raced towards him with gleaming eyes now peeked from behind their mothers’ skirts. Friends, who used to greet him warmly, now stared with a blend of reverence and apprehension. Some, like Jade, whispered in hushed tones, their eyes wide with admiration, convinced he was touched by the gods. Yet others stepped back, murmuring incantations and quickly guiding their children indoors as he approached.
An insatiable hunger gnawed at Ade’s core, undiminished by the cosmic energy he absorbed. Fearful it might fray the edges of his sanity, he sought Baba Femi in the cloak of darkness, pleading for wisdom.
Ade’s voice quivered as he asked, “Do the gods I’ve revered all my life truly exist? Or are we merely marionettes, danced by unseen forces beyond our grasp?”
Drawing a deep breath, Baba Femi replied, “The gods, young Ade, live in the faith we grant them, in the tales passed down, in the legacy we embrace. Yet, it’s the invisible powers, those beyond our grasp, that carve our fate.”
The elder cautioned Ade once more, emphasising that he alone stood at the crossroads: to follow the light or be swallowed by shadows, to shield life or become its predator. The moment of decision loomed. Ade braced himself.
That night, outside the village’s edge, Ade stood alone, his thoughts clashing like a tempest. In the soft glow of starlight, his sister Moremi approached, concern etched on her face.
“You aren’t alone in this ordeal, brother,” her voice a gentle whisper. “I stand with you.” While she remained unaware of the full extent, her unwavering presence grounded Ade, evoking all he might forfeit if he lost his way. He pledged to defy the encroaching shadows, regardless of the sacrifice.
As the deep crimson of the blood moon painted the sky, whispers of change filled the air. To the villagers, this wasn’t merely an astronomical spectacle but a sacred moment when the spirit world brushed against their own. They lit candles, murmuring prayers and seeking ancestral blessings. Baba Femi, with a solemn expression, guided Ade towards the ancient ritual site—a place the villagers dared not tread.
“We have little time.” Baba Femi’s voice held a note of urgency. “Tonight, the cosmos and earth unite.”
Venturing into the heart of the ancient grove, they passed banyan trees, their trunks twisted with vines and marked with cryptic runes of forgotten tongues. Soon, a circular clearing revealed itself, bordered by towering stones scarred with age-old symbols. The air pulsed with an unseen energy, making the hairs on Ade’s neck stand on end.
Under the blood moon’s glow, villagers huddled at the clearing’s edge, whispering in a mix of fear and curiosity about the impending ritual and Ade’s role in it. From the shadows, Jade’s sharp and intent eyes tracked every movement. The village bathed in a deep red, and the weight of expectation hung heavy.
With a nod from Baba Femi, Ade hesitated for a moment before lying on the cold altar stone, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Baba Femi’s voice rose, chanting in a haunting tongue that echoed deep within Ade. The symbols on Ade’s skin glowed brighter, their green light pulsating in rhythm with the thinning barrier between realms. As the ritual intensified, the ground shook, and a blinding radiance filled the clearing.
From the mist, ghostly figures emerged, their forms shimmering and marked with symbols akin to Ade’s. These symbols danced with light and shadow, echoing the timeless dance of fate. An innate recognition surged within Ade—these were the Emissaries of old. Waves of memories—moments of pure joy and love intertwined with deep betrayals and an insatiable hunger—crashed over him.
Those who had forsaken their humanity for power and hunger had unleashed chaos and despair. Now, only demonic echoes of their former selves remained. The spectres’ haunting call beckoned the darkness within Ade.
Ade’s scream pierced the night, his body writhing on the altar as his symbols seared with a fiery intensity. A ravenous hunger threatened to drown his sanity. Faintly, he heard the villagers’ gasps and whispers, their fear palpable. Yet, the spirits’ grip on him remained unyielding.
“Give in to your power … Feast and become what you were meant to be—God and destroyer both.” Whispers clawed at Ade’s mind, the villagers’ life force tantalisingly close. The beast within him roared, urging him to seize his destiny as their ruler.
Amidst the swirling chaos, Ade caught a fleeting glimpse of his sister’s face, lines of worry marking her features. Moremi’s voice pierced the tumult. “Be strong, brother!” Her words pulled him back, anchoring him to family and humanity, away from the spirits’ malevolent grasp.
With a primal roar, Ade cast aside the spirits’ venomous promises. They dissolved into screeches, retreating into the void, but the hunger within him persisted, gnawing at his core.
Exhausted, Ade collapsed on the altar, his body quivering. Baba Femi’s weathered hand found his shoulder. “Tonight, you’ve bested the darkness, Ade,” he declared, his voice thick with pride. “Rise as the Emissary of Light and shield your people.”
As village drums echoed, the blood moon descended, its retreat chasing away shadows and wicked spirits, heralding light’s victory over darkness. A fresh dawn whispered promises in the breeze. Leaning on Moremi for support, Ade rose, the hunger within him momentarily tamed. Yet he knew the battle wasn’t over. He prayed that his humanity would always win.
Each night, by the river where his journey began, he sought solace in its whispers. The water’s caress leaves rustling, and distant cries of night creatures kept him company in his introspection.
As moons passed, Ade stood guard, shielding villagers and travelers from bandits and wild beasts. While some eyed him warily, many were swayed by his actions. Yet ominous whispers spoke of raiders and restless tribes rallying behind a ruthless warlord. Ade sensed the fragile peace waning. But when shadows threatened once more, he’d stand firm. As the chosen Emissary of Light, he vowed never to falter.
With whispers of impending peril, Ade’s resolve hardened. Aware of the village’s delicate peace, he prepared himself against encroaching shadows. In stillness, under the vast night canopy, he’d lose himself in starry reflections, reminders of his trials and the destiny he’d chosen.
The title of Emissary wasn’t just about power—it symbolised his resilience, choices, and sacrifices. As the seasons shifted, so did his journey. With every trial, he fortified not only his power but his spirit. The once-doubtful village now saw him as a beacon in their darkest hours. Each night, under the sprawling cosmos, he felt a bond, vowing to the stars to stand not just as an Emissary but as Ade, their steadfast guardian.
