The air thickened, and a lone Watchman stepped into view, ash-gray armor glinting, juju blade raised. "Thought you'd hide, filth?" he sneered.
Zuri spun his fire spear, grinning. "Dance time!" Kente third eye glowing, as Zaria scrambled for her cloak, the shrine's air turning cold with the promise of battle.
The Dethugo Watchman loomed before them, his blade glinting in the crimson light of the rift. Kente’s breath caught as the Heart of Old Brass pulsed in his grip, its warmth a lifeline against the chill of fear. Zuri shifted beside him, fire spear angled for a strike, while Aanya’s runes glowed faintly, her silver eyes locked on the enemy. Zaria murmuring a prayer to the ancestors under her breath. The Egungun spirit lingered behind the Watchman, its masked face unreadable, a silent witness to the standoff.
“Step aside,” the Dethugo Watchman growled, his voice a low rumble that shook the shrine’s stone floor. “The rift belongs to us now.”
Kente tightened his stance, the Heart’s power surging through him. “Not while we’re standing.” His third eye twitched, a vision flickering—dark figures pouring through the rift, shadows swallowing the land—but he shoved it aside. No time for that now.
Zuri lunged first, his spear a blur. The Watchman parried with a flick of his blade, metal clanging against metal. Aanya thrust her hand forward, a rune flaring to life—a shimmering shield that caught the Watchman’s counterstrike. Sparks flew, lighting the mist around them.
Zaria muttered “Ancestors, guide us!” she cried. The Egungun spirit stirred, its form rippling as if responding to her call.
Turning the Tide
The Watchman pressed forward, his strength relentless, but the group held their ground. Kente felt Nri’s voice in his mind, steady and firm. “Use the Heart, boy. It’s more than a trinket.” He raised the artifact, its light flaring brighter, and aimed it at the rift. A beam of golden energy shot forth, striking the crimson tear.
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The Watchman’s blade clashed against Zuri’s spear, dark energy crackling in the air. Kente channeled the Heart of Old Brass, its golden light surging as the rift above shrank, its crimson glow fading under the ancestors’ will. Aanya’s runes flared, holding back the Watchman’s assault, while Zaria’s chants summoned the Egungun spirit, its shadowy form towering over the shrine.
Then, the rift snapped shut with a sound like breaking glass. The Watchman froze, his masked face tilting upward as if hearing something beyond their reach. His blade wavered—not from weakness, but from a sudden pause. He stepped back, his voice low and cutting. “You’ve sealed this gate, but others stir. This fight is a shadow of what’s to come.”
Kente’s third eye twitched, catching a glimpse of distant realms—dark silhouettes watching, waiting. The Watchman’s form shimmered, his power no longer anchored here. “I withdraw by command, not defeat,” he hissed. “Prepare yourselves—the rift’s masters will not forgive this.” With a sharp gesture, he summoned a gust of wind—controlled, fierce—and vanished into it, his essence dissolving like smoke into the night.
Aftermath and Reflection
The shrine grew quiet, the totems’ carved eyes gleaming in the dim light. Kente lowered the Heart, his breath steadying. “What did he mean, ‘rift’s masters’?” he asked, unease creeping into his voice.
Aanya traced the air where the rift had been, her runes fading. “The rift’s closed, but its energy didn’t just vanish—it shifted. Someone, or something, was feeding it. The Watchmen wasn’t acting alone.”
Zuri wiped his brow, leaning on his spear. “Great. So we beat the guard dog, but the owners are still out there? Figures.” His grin was tight, masking his worry.
Zaria’s silver eyes studied the totems, her tone grave. “The Egungun sealed it with us, but the Watchman’s words… they echo my grandmother’s warnings. The rifts open when juju’s balance breaks—and when greed or ambition tears at it. This wasn’t random.”
Kente gripped the Heart, its glow faint now. “Then why here? Why now?”
Aanya stood, brushing dust from her hands. “We won’t know standing here. The High Priestess in the capital—she’s tracked the rifts, studied their patterns. She’ll have answers.”
Zuri: “To the capital it is. Better than waiting for that creep to come back with his friends.”
Kente glanced at the sealed rift’s spot, the Watchman’s warning ringing in his ears. Their victory felt fragile, a single step in a larger dance. With a determined nod, he led his friends out, the path ahead shadowed by questions but lit by their resolve.