"What have you done?"

Ato, stunned by the sudden question, scanned Kweku cautiously. Outwardly, he remained calm, but his mind churned with unease. Fleeing into the forest or returning to the slave compound was out of the question. Either choice would force a confrontation, and while Ato was confident in his own skills, Kweku’s martial prowess remained an unknown variable—one he wasn’t eager to test.

Kweku, seeing no immediate response, pressed on.

"The forest has burned down," he said, gesturing toward the faintly glowing embers around them. "Most of the people in the compound are dead. Those who survived are in hiding. The beasts have scattered, and soon they'll head straight for state territory."

Ato raised a hand, cutting him off. "Enough. Just get to the point."

Kweku’s expression hardened, his lips twisting into a sneer as his eyes bore into Ato’s.

"You don’t get it, do you?" His voice dropped, laced with venom. "From the moment you set fire to the forest, you signed your own death warrant. The army will come, investigate, and all the trails will lead straight to you. Hiding won’t save you."

Ato fell silent, weighing his options. Kweku’s sudden shift in demeanor didn’t escape his notice. The boy’s words slithered around the subject, circling it like a predator before pouncing.

"So?" Ato said at last, his tone sharp. "I’ll just leave. We are at war, no?"

"Oh? And what makes you think that?"

"The signs are obvious," Ato replied evenly. "Drills, strict hierarchy, the army handling investigations instead of the police—all of it screams militarization. That doesn’t happen unless a war or crisis is looming."

He fixed a pointed gaze on Kweku, suspicion flickering in his eyes. "But you already knew that, didn’t you? You’re trying to manipulate me, making yourself look like the savior while pulling the strings behind the scenes."

Kweku’s laugh was cold and humorless. "You’ve been playing your own games too, Ato. Don’t pretend you’re innocent. But if you’re done posturing, I’ve got an offer for you."

Ato’s eyes narrowed. "What is it?"

"Come with me." Kweku said simply.

"What?"

The offer caught Ato off guard. He had been expecting something more intricate, layered with hidden intentions. But this was direct, almost disarming in its simplicity.

"The army will be busy maintaining order. While they’re distracted, we can slip through one of the less-guarded borders. I need your strength, and you need a way out. So, what’s it going to be?"

"Just the two of us?" Ato scoffed. "You think I’d take that risk?"

Kweku shook his head. "Who said it would only be us? There are others. In fact, let’s go meet them now."

"Lead the way, then," Ato said.

As Kweku turned, Ato’s gaze wandered across the charred remains of the forest. The towering trees, once proud sentinels, now stood as blackened skeletons. Their twisted branches clawed at the smoke-laden sky like grotesque fingers. Thick, acrid fumes rose steadily from the scorched earth, mingling with the stench of burned wood and flesh.

The slave compound fared no better. Through the settling haze, the remnants of shattered lives peeked out—a broken stool, a torn scrap of fabric, the faint outlines of collapsed huts. The air was oppressive, as though the land itself mourned.

But Ato didn’t mourn. Why should he? The fire had done its job. The creatures were gone, and he was still alive. That was all that mattered.

The two moved forward, winding through what remained of the desolate village. The air grew heavier with each step, a strange weight pressing down on Ato’s shoulders and chest. It wasn’t just fatigue; something deeper and more primal clawed at him, as though the ground itself rejected their presence.

Kweku led the way, his movements steady, but Ato noticed the slight tension in his steps. He was walking carefully, almost deliberately, as though any misstep could awaken whatever force lingered in the shadows of this place. The air had changed, too—thicker, almost suffocating, carrying a faint, sickly-sweet odor that clung to the back of Ato’s throat.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Where are you leading us?" Ato muttered, breaking the silence.

Kweku glanced back at him, his face set in a grim expression. "You'll understand soon enough. Just keep moving."

As they drew closer, Ato’s unease deepened. His stomach churned, a queasiness taking hold that no amount of steady breathing could dispel.

They emerged into a clearing, hidden by two untouched huts, and there it stood—the shrine of Asase Yaa.

It wasn’t what Ato remembered. The shrine was a weathered structure of dark stone, its surface etched with symbols that seemed to shift and writhe when he looked at them too long. Vines crept over the structure, their leaves a sickly, pale green that looked almost translucent. The air here was different—charged, vibrating with an almost unbearable energy.

Ato staggered, leaning against a nearby wall for support. A wave of dizziness crashed over him, and the nauseating sensation grew stronger. He forced himself to steady his breathing, but it felt as though the shrine was pushing against his very presence, testing him, probing for weakness.

Kweku stopped a few steps ahead, his posture stiff. "It is the shrine’s power," he said without turning around. "It repels anything that doesn’t belong here. Even the beasts won’t come near it."

Ato straightened, wiping sweat from his brow. "And yet this is where we’re hiding? Bold choice."

Kweku finally turned to face him, his expression unreadable. "It’s not about boldness. It’s about necessity. Nothing survives here for long. But as long as we don’t linger, it’s safe enough."

He glanced at Ato for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze piercing. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he turned and continued walking, his voice carrying back over his shoulder. "And if it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have to hide."

Ignoring his last words, Ato glanced over the clearing again. Beyond the shrine, a solitary hut stood undisturbed. He saw a few figures moving about cautiously within, their movements deliberate, as though even they feared disturbing the shrine’s peace.

As he took a hesitant step forward, the nausea seemed to deepen, and the whispers began. Faint, unintelligible murmurs, like voices carried on the wind but too faint to make out. They buzzed at the edge of his consciousness, fraying his thoughts.

He took a few steps towards the hut, passing by the shrine in the process. A sudden sense of dread over came him.

What if this was a trap? What if he was simply walking to his death?

Ato clenched his fist. If it was, he'd simply have to fight.

The hut loomed larger as he approached, its walls patched with mismatched pieces of wood and scraps of fabric. It was a flimsy structure, faint torchlight flickering steadily from its numerous cracks, casting a warm glow against the suffocating darkness outside.

He went up to the entrance, then paused.

"You go first."

Kweku stepped forward, parting the ornamental cloth which served as its door. A relieved sigh sounded from within the hut as he entered, and a scarred face popped into view.

"Kweku!" Cried the Scarred Lady, throwing her arms up in celebration.

"See, I told you!" She shouted into the hut, "I told you he'd come!"

A muffled groan sounded, and a somewhat lanky man hobbled to the entrance, a slight smile playing on his lips. Both arms and his left leg were encased in crude casts, formed by flattened twigs tied together with rope.

The man peered past Kweku, his gaze landing on Ato, who stood off to the side.

He broke into a crooked smile.

"Hello~!"

Ato gave a curt reply. His focus shifted to the scarred woman, who now stood to the side, quietly observing the exchange. There was a warmth in her gaze as she studied Kweku, though her posture remained guarded. Whatever bond she shared with him was evident, but it was clear she wasn’t quick to extend the same trust to Ato.

He stepped into the hut, glancing around the empty room with suspicion.

"Is this it?"

Kweku motioned toward the far corner of the hut, where a crude wooden hatch lay flush with the ground. "The rest of us are down there," he said, pulling it open with a low creak. The faint flicker of torchlight and muffled voices wafted up from the tunnel below.

"This is just the lookout post," Kweku continued. "The real hideout is underground. Come on. I’ll explain the rest when we’re down there."

Kweku walked toward the pit and descended into the darkness, the wooden ladder groaning under his weight. Ato hesitated at the edge, his eyes flicking back to the other occupants of the hut. They watched him in silence, their gazes unyielding.

Swallowing his unease, Ato gripped the ladder and began his descent.

The air grew heavier with every rung he climbed down, the whispers from the shrine above fading into a suffocating silence. When his feet finally touched the ground, he found himself in a narrow, earthen tunnel lit by the dim glow of distant torches. Kweku waited a few steps ahead, motioning for him to follow.

"Stay close," Kweku said as they began moving through the passage. The muffled sounds of activity grew louder with each step, and before long, they emerged into a large underground chamber.

The space was chaotic, filled with survivors from the compound. Some lay on crude mats, their bodies wrapped in bloodied bandages. Others moved about, tending to the wounded or organizing supplies scavenged from the ruins above. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and desperation.

A few of those who had awakened their Kra were also amongst the group, gathering themselves around Abena, who now bore a diagonal scar across the side of her cheek.

Ato scanned the scene, his jaw tightening. There were no signs of permanence here—no infrastructure, no organization beyond the bare minimum needed to survive. These people were clinging to life by a thread, their future as fragile as the flickering torchlight that barely illuminated the chamber.

Kweku turned to him, his expression unreadable. "This is what’s left," he said quietly. "It isn't much, but it’s all we have for now."

Ato’s gaze lingered on a young boy sitting against the wall, clutching a makeshift sling around his arm. His eyes were wide and hollow, staring blankly into the distance.

"So," Kweku continued, his voice hardening. "Are you in? Or are you out?"

Ato didn’t respond immediately. His thoughts churned, the weight of the decision pressing down on him like the suffocating air of the chamber.

For now, there was no other choice.

"I’m in," he said finally, the words heavy on his tongue.

Kweku nodded, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Good. Then let’s get to work."