Dawn broke, and I donned my spirit form to infiltrate the government house. I walked in with my head down and my shoulders squared, best not to bring attention. The government house was located on the nice side of the realm, the Orisha wanted the best of the best. The streets leading to it were made out of white marble and the buildings littering the street the same materials, here the Mmuo, officers in charge of meeting the Orishas' needs, lived. Humans were to be hidden here, not seen nor heard even though they slaved beneath the glitter.
The government house was a colossal building, its roof reaching the clouds. It was a minefield of activity, spirits from different classes interacting and rushing about. The spiritual power here was intense and it felt like just a bit of it could crush nations, talk more of lowborn spirits.
We were shuffled to the back by a Mmuo with large horns on her head and to be honest even though I have been in this place for quite some time, the non-humanness of it all creeps me out. The spirits around me had elongated limbs, teeth, ears, eyes, some even had half melting faces, others had their guts spilling out. I was disgusted and thankful the witch had given me a slightly human form with just ghostly skin and bottomless eyes.
“SILENCE, ” the Mmuo roared, her voice like thunder. All the lowborn fell to the ground in fear. Here, spirits in higher tiers possessed spiritual power and one hand was enough to disperse the lowborn.
“Fools, make I warn una,” the Mmuo continued in pidgin, “If you like, dare to look at the Orishas in their eyes while working, you are on your own, you are meant to clean and run errands when they call you. Am I understood?!”
“Yes ma,” we muttered, still on the ground.
“Good, do not come to me asking rubbish questions,” she hissed.
I did not know whether to laugh or cry. She then divided us into four groups, each serving one of the Orisha of either water, earth, wind, or sky. I was in the group chosen to serve the Orisha of water, the most cruel of them all.
I cursed my luck and shuffled alongside the group to the domain of the Orisha of water. She occupied the largest section of the government building where rivers, streams, and lakes ran free, unperturbed by the space. It seemed endless.
I felt a lump in my throat when I caught sight of the Orisha herself, her back turned. She wore a gown that glowed, it seemed like it was made of light itself, her skin was a rich ebony hue with golden tattoos, and her hair flowed like water itself. She was so beautiful that it hurt, I was tempted to glance at her face but common sense stood in the way of dying prematurely.
There were other lowborn spirits loitering about, some working alongside the beds of the body of water, others spinning the wheel to make the dresses of the Orisha, some singing hymns, and the Mmuo, voices of thunder suddenly soft, informing the Orisha of her duties of the day.
I headed to my station, near the spindle, and joined the others in spinning the wheel. It was mindless, but I did it with utmost concentration because a mistake could cost my life. The amulet on my chest burned with a low, constant heat, a reminder of the life it was consuming.
Suddenly, silence. I did not dare look up. A long nail twirled my hair around, I didn’t even know when she got close. “You smell like a mortal,” her voice was soft like still waters.
I trembled. I could not be this easy to sniff out. I just started. I did not want to die, my mum is still out there.
I prostrated, “Forgive this lowly one, I was born along Nnewi,” Nnewi was famous for its constant human activity due to its abundant fish, but that stopped when the Orishas manifested and took control.
Her laughter was sharp and painful, my ears bled, and I could feel my ghostly form flickering. The power that laugh held alone.
“I see everything,” she grabbed my skull, and I could feel a thousand knives piercing in. I started praying, not to the Orishas nor Alusi himself, but to any other power merciful enough that the amulet would hold and maintain my disguise.
The other lowborn spirits did not dare look up and focused on whatever they were doing. Every spirit for themselves. My death will not even be a drop in this vast ocean.
She bashed my head against the ground, and at that moment, I saw death grin at me. “You shall follow me,” she said before disappearing in a whirlwind of lightning and water, taking me along with her.
I had failed.
The whirlwind spat me out in a chamber of rippling waves, walls alive with glowing fish that stared like spies. My head throbbed, blood dripping from my ears, but the amulet held—barely. The Orisha of Water loomed, her eyes like whirlpools, pulling at my disguise.
“Mortal stench no dey hide,” she hissed in pidgin, her voice slicing my nerves. I kept my head low, heart pounding.
“Why you dey shake?” she mocked, circling me. Her golden tattoos pulsed, each step rippling the floor’s streams. I mumbled, “Lowly spirit, ma, from Nnewi,” clinging to my lie.
The witch’s juju burned hot against my chest, my bones creaking louder. Nine months left, and I was already cracking.
She leaned close, her breath cold as river mud. “You get secret, abi?” I froze, expecting annihilation. But she turned, waving a hand. “Clean my altar. One mistake, you go join the vault.”
The vault. My mum’s soul. My heart leapt, but I hid it, shuffling to a bone-carved altar piled with shells and dripping with juju oil. Other lowborns glanced, then looked away—cowardly spirits, no loyalty. I scrubbed, hands shaking, watching her glide to a throne of coral.
A Mmuo guard, horns sharper than the last, watched me. “Work fast, or you will see pepper,” he growled.
I nodded, but my eyes scanned for clues—a door, a glow, anything. The Orisha’s laughter echoed, sharp as broken glass. I was alive, but for how long?