And God called the light Day, and the darkness He called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.
Genesis 1:5 (King James Version)
Something didn't feel right that morning.
Was it the sun? No—it blazed in the sky and warmed the air, like it always did.
The air? Yes, it was the air—the breeze was off-kilter. It gently brushed her face as it passed by—it blew more at an angle, than straight like a blade.
Something had happened recently.
She passed the gate of the Lekki Conservational Centre and walked up to a booth on her right—that wasn't going to make her stop doing as she'd always done—if the change was for her, it would find her.
An attendant in a brown cap smiled, like he'd been expecting her, "Here again." He joked as he punched in a ticket, "Kuku build house for here now."
Time smiled back as best as she could and handed him the entrance fee. It wasn't often they used pidgin with the visitors—she didn't mind it, rather, she took it as a good sign—they were familiar with her. But she could be reading it wrong—what did she know about humans?
"The usual, huh?" He accepted it and gave her a coloured paper band and sent her on her way with a wave. Normally, they would ask for an I.D card, but suppose five weeks was more than enough to give her face value.
She'd even considered working here, as the visits became more often, but decided she liked being able to freely come and go.
It seemed that was something she still had in common with the others.
Of course, she didn't need to go through the hassle, she could just walk in and out without being seen—but there'd always been a certain appeal for her in playing by their rules; without the powers, without the privileges, equal ground—she'd even gone through the trouble of getting a means of human identification. It made her feel more grounded—real. Less like a spirit, and more like a person.
Less likely to just… disappear… and have no one notice.
If that made her affected, or strange then so be it—so long as she wanted it, she'd do it.
A part of their conversation came to her ears, even when she was already a few steps away,
"…Guy her eyes…"
"…No be contact be that? I want…"
Hmm, maybe she'd use that— an easy explanation.
She followed the plank walkway that formed the route into the park, overstepping uneven pieces here and there. It was there for good reason; all around was forest and marsh, the sides thick with undergrowth, vegetation, and massive trees.
After a couple of minutes, she got to a decently sized oak tree, growing just to the side of the walkway. Its roots stretched under the planks, lifting some of them. Except for a few seconds after tripping over it, it was likely never noticed, blending into the rest of the green— perfect as a demarcation.
She patted its trunk, then veered off to the side into the thick.
You should already know but don't do this—it probably, no, definitely, was best to follow the path straight to the picnic area and board games—getting lost in those woods was no joke, not to mention dangerous—the entire ground was marsh and wetland, all sorts of wildlife abound, and things would likely get nasty. So, for those of you who just can't get a warning once, don't go walking in there, don't even try—you wouldn't even get lost, one foot off those planks and you'd sink.
Unless, of course, you knew where to step.
Instead of disappearing into the ground, her foot caught on something solid. Holding on to tree trunk and low branches, she trudged through low bushes and plants on a platform a little higher than them. As they grew, the roots of all these trees had twisted together, forming a winding network—it happened all over the place, but here it was just wide and strong enough to walk on. It wasn't perfect— there were gaps in between—but she had to hand it to them—the trees had formed a boardwalk all on their own. Nature was resilient if one thing.
She'd say it again; her advice would be not to try—you could spend a lifetime searching for it.
And if there were still some of you who'd like to take her words as a suggestion—she didn't want your disappearance on her conscience—but since it wasn't like she could tell exactly where it was, hopefully you'll at least listen to this: don't go looking for random trees with roots that displace five planks of the wooden walkway, and don't go patting said random trees—No, it especially had to be oak—if it wasn't, then it wasn't right.
As for the rest, good luck.
Her little unregistered…path, for lack of a better word, cut to the right after a few minutes, back the direction she'd come, before snaking to the side again. Another couple of steps and it went diagonal, and so on until she reached a spot she could see the ground—its color was a little lighter than the other parts she was coming from. She tested it with her foot, then jumped down from the tree root—it was dry.
She continued her walk, going straight ahead for a few minutes before stopping where a few coconut trees grew side by side to form a sort of wall. It took about twenty minutes—fair, for somewhere like this.
She stepped between them into a clearing. The ground was dark silt and sand, rolling freely underneath her shoes. Sun rays actually touched the ground here, and while that was marvelous all on its own, it was only the set-up for the main attraction—
A little to her left, a sea of white shimmered. An entire section of the space had been littered with shiny white stones—hundreds of them, the kind used to decorate flowerbeds and walkways—hardly any of the ground could be seen.
She had no idea where they came from or why they were here or whether anyone aside from her even knew this place existed. And as long as she didn't touch them, she could sit here and wonder. She rubbed her fingers—touch wasn't gone yet.
Speaking of sit—
She went over to a corner opposite the stones. Two trees had grown sideways over each other; strong vines attached to each of them on either side, held up a wide piece of wood. She'd fashioned the seat herself—torturous, but worth it. Actually, rather than a seat, it was more of a swing—she'd always liked swings. And she had a full view of when the sun shone over the pit and made the stones gleam.
Her most promising theory was that she had discovered the cache of the monkeys. Now before you said it was unfair to blame them when they were unable to defend themselves, hear her out—they probably were drawn to the shine and stole them from decorations in the Savannah area.
For so many, it likely would have taken many months and just as many monkeys. The stones weren't used there now, but that only made it all the more probable—they'd stopped using it when they noticed they were being stolen.
But the teamwork and intellect it would have taken if it was true—incredible.
She pushed off with her feet and began swinging.
When she was satisfied— she'd alert the park officials as soon as she was done with the place, but for now, the knowledge belonged to her alone. It was a place she cherished, where she could be alone with her thoughts.
Well, usually.
"How long are you going to stay there watching me?" she called out.
The bushes behind her rustled softly. Someone stepped out of them.
She angled her head upside down to look at who it was, though she already knew, "How long have you been there?" she asked again, more out of curiosity than anything else, "Or perhaps, have you always been there waiting for me?"
The lanky boy put a hand on his chest and bowed once in respect. He didn't answer her question, "It's nice to find you well, my lady."
She pulled herself off the swing and turned to face him, "Come on, no need for all that with me." She smiled wryly, "I'd say it's nice to find you well, Marcus. I see our agreement is still holding up."
Yes, she remembered— Tokens could also be used like this, that's why they were so careful in giving it out. Him figuring out how though, that was another thing entirely—the boy had grown up faster than she'd realised.
She wished he hadn't come here.
She settled back on the swing.
"So?" she asked when he didn't talk, he had only been staring blankly for a few seconds.
"They wouldn't believe you were so close," he half-muttered in amazement.
"You're being weird right now, Marcus," she told him flatly. It was better to be straight with the kid.
That got him back to reality, he shook his head, "Sorry. It's just that… everybody has been trying to find you. F-For quite some time now." He went on, "And I know you have the habit of slipping through everyone's fingers, but you can't keep on—"
"Relax," she cut him off, "Marcus, relax." He would always do this when he was scared, nervous, excited, or upset—just kept rambling on and on.
Still…
Find her? The words would always remain very strange to her.
Humour her for a moment—where would you expect to find Time?
Maybe a magnificent clock or bell tower? Or perhaps, more diminutively, a clock and watch shop?
Or, maybe for a modern take—the magazine?
All both good and terrible choices.
See, that is exactly the reason for the failure of those who wish to find her— for even the very intentions are doomed already— how can you find someone that is neither lost nor running away?
She was right here.
"Anyway," she changed the subject, "You didn't come all this way just to scold me, did you?"
Marcus cleared his throat and stood up straight, his voice grave. "It's Nature," he reported, "She's been busy trying to rally the rest of the Seven together."
Time bobbed her head. Seemed the change had found her after all.
"And she went to Love to ask for her help," he continued.
She folded her arms and smiled— Nature, ask for help? She must really be in a tough spot.
Marcus watched for her reaction.
She gave an hm-hm. "Well, it's only the third time since our inception she's trying something like this—" she said, shaking her head, "—nothing I haven't been expecting for a while now."
She sighed, "But I have to commend, she was a lot more patient than I thought, I didn't think she had it in her… but eight years—that's more than enough for some movement from her."
"So…?" he asked, wanting her to continue.
"I wish them the best of luck," she replied, matter of fact.
Marcus sputtered and shot forward, "But you can't just leave it be— think about what could happen!"
"It's going to be fine. Love is wonderfully kind, good and smart. I trust her," she assured him, "She does the right thing, and I'll accept whatever decisions she comes to."
She wondered if he realised what that meant.
Marcus let out a deep breath, chest heaving. "They sent out a Call, you know."
"Congratulations to them," she said without missing a beat. Seemed the coup had already begun.
She guessed he'd wanted it to shock her more. "Only you should be able to do that," His voice was barely above a whisper. Time put a hand under her chin and felt like laughing—he didn't need to remind her.
"Actually—" She'd always wanted to correct that common misconception, "If they weren't meant to be able to do so, then why would they have the ability in the first place?" She folded her arms, "That said, yes—it is best that they gain permission first."
He clenched his jaw, and asked in a fierce whisper, "How are you so relaxed?"
Time gazed at the young man in front of her, now able to raise his voice up at her, give his opinions and object to her own. Eight years ago, she would never have imagined it in him—a glint of gladness lit up her heart. Maybe she wasn't a complete failure after all.
Unfortunately, right now, he had to deal with the Leader of the Seven—no matter how recluse she had become.
"The position is one that was given—not by any of us, but from above," her tone was firm, "If they want it, and are able to take it—" she narrowed her eyes, "—Then I suppose it should be theirs."
It was her fault this was happening in the first place—her job was to keep them together, and she hadn't been able to do it.
Maybe, it was time to quietly step down—let Nature have what she wanted.
It was her duty to do what was best for the Seven, and it would be best for them to have a leader who actually wanted to lead them.
And maybe finally, she'd have her peace— she was tired of it all.
Marcus lowered his head, remaining quiet.
The leaves of the trees stirred slightly. That was another thing she found pleasant about this place—the air wasn't stale or humid, rather it moved in a unique direction; like a fresh breath, it spiralled from above, reached the earth and unsettled the sand before rising up again and leaving—she loved it.
When he spoke up again, Time was more than ready to continue the argument.
"So, what happens to us?" he asked quietly.
Oh. He'd started thinking of that…
Good—the quicker he gave up, the better— for both of them.
She was quick to comfort him, "Don't worry, the protection over you was made by all of us—it won't be affected by this."
He kept his head down, clenching a fist, "If Nature becomes leader, she could gain enough influence to nullify whatever agreement you had—easily." She thought a vein on his hand would pop as he continued, "But I'm not asking about just me—what about the others? —what happens to the others just like me who'll end up suffering and dying because of her prejudice against us?"
"Wai—"
"Don't try to tell me that it isn't true—we both know Nature hates my kind—she'll have us exterminated any chance she gets!" He lifted his head, and looked at her with eyes set with a grim resolve, "So, Leader of the Seven, from a proud Surrendered-one to you, tell me what you intend to do against this potential injustice to us?"
It wasn't often Time was rendered speechless. Turning it into a formal complaint? She'd underestimated the boy.
He was right. She wouldn't have liked to leave it to someone so petty, but really, who was she to judge anymore? Not when she'd failed.
However, wasn't that a little too much—Nature could be mean, but she wasn't maniacal.
Was she?
It took her a second to reply, "I assure you—I will do all in my power to prevent anything like that from happening to you even if I leave." That was all she could do, but she'd do it to the utmost, any way she could.
Now, Marcus shook his head, "That is not enough." He continued speaking like he was raising an entirely different issue, "I'd like to report the misconduct of a member of the Seven to you."
Time smiled. It had gotten a little difficult to keep up with the boy—why had he brought this up?
It was a right of outsiders to bring complaints about any of the Seven to her, the leader and suggest rectifications and of course, punishments. Whether they remained just suggestions was up to her. Was he going to attack Nature this way?
He didn't wait for a go-ahead, "The Personification of Time, Leader of the Seven is actively and recklessly seeking to neglect her duties and abandon her post—" Time's jaw almost dropped, "—As such, I request that she is speedily brought to book and punished."
He wasn't done just yet, "As punishment, I suggest what I feel would be the worst one—that she is denied the very thing she is seeking—have her remain as Leader and held accountable to fulfil all the duties she has to the fullest."
Now, he was done.
She wanted to give him a standing ovation. Well-played, little Reptilia, very well-played.
He was grasping at straws, but with everything he could. She admired it but unfortunately, she couldn't honour that.
"Just so you know," she said to him, an eyebrow arched up, "These are all serious charges you've brought against me. You're sure you want to sustain them?"
He nodded.
"Very well then," she said, "They'll be brought up and discussed at our next meeting."
"The Leader and the plaintiff are here—judge and executioner. I think it should be decided immediately," he pressed.
Time was impressed—keep her in the corner now that he had her. But—and it was a little unfair—she had a bit of experience extracting herself out of situations like these.
"The presence of the other members is a welcome thing to keep from coming to an arbitrary decision. Hence," she emphasized, "it would be brought up at the next meeting."
When that next meeting would be, however, could never be set in stone. Would it be called a meeting when she didn't show up? They'd find out.
Marcus' head went down slightly again. His voice was resigned, like he'd accepted defeat, "If I go back there, I'll have to face six out of the Seven at once and risk being torn apart by their collective wills—but I am going back there—because I can't just sit by and watch as my friend, someone I'd hoped I could consider my older sister, be robbed of her position without a single voice in her favour."
Time was the one to avert her gaze.
"So even if I never make it back, I will be at that meeting. But let me just ask you just this once—" His voice gained one last flame of defiance, "Do you really not care?"
Time knew, for her own sake, there was no correct reply to that question. So, she chose not to say anything.
Marcus filled his own answer in for her, one last attempt at inciting her defiance, "I don't think you don't care. I think you're just afraid."
"Are you trying to goad me?" she almost laughed in disbelief.
"Is it working?" he asked, a little hopeful.
She laughed this time but shook her head, "I don't think so."
Dejection filled his frame, and he let his body hang loose. This was the reason she wished he'd never come. And that settled it—she had failed completely.
"Let me send you back," she said gently and got off the swing. He'd come using her protection, a mark, and it could be used in opposite way, but she didn't need that to complete the job.
Reluctant to even argue, he just shuffled over to the area where he'd first appeared. She followed a few steps and wondered what would make him a little less deflated—should she touch his shoulder? Hug him?
No, the best thing to do would be to stand back, and let him go.
When he'd settled there, she began, "A time will come when we both make the correct decisions," He put his hands in jacket pocket, and a white light shimmered around him, "But for now—"
"Wait!" he yelled suddenly, interrupting her. He furiously dug something out of his pocket—a small bundle of green cloth. "I brought a few of them to see what you thought of it, but I forgot in all the excitement," he said sheepishly and untied it. It was littered with pieces of metal of different sizes, but still able to fit in a hand.
Time took a palm-sized one, and turned it over in her hand, "What's this from?"
He rubbed the back of his head, "We paid a visit to the railway headquarters a day ago, and kind of had a train blow up on us," he explained. "Those pieces remained hot for the better part of the day. Burned through a few good shirts I had."
"And there was no news of it? No alarm? Nothing?" she asked. Something as big as that would have at least made national news, or kept the city on edge, either way, she'd have heard of it—unless… the humans were not aware.
He confirmed her suspicions, "Nope, not even a peep. In fact, nobody there even realised anything had happened at all—even with pieces of train littered everywhere."
"So, you guys were the only ones who could see anything at all," she whispered breathlessly. No matter how far-fetched it sounded, she didn't have much choice but to believe him.
"And let me guess, this, is what Nature is using as the basis for calling everyone together?"
He nodded.
"Well, they're going to have their work cut out for them." She brushed a finger over the piece, and fine dust came onto her hand, "I feel the energies of several personifications—and none of it is friendly."
She might as well warn them through him.
"Do you understand what that means?" She looked straight at him. It wouldn't hurt to make sure he got the importance.
Greed, Lust, and Anger would explain the heat too—perhaps even all seven of them— more than enough to cause an implosion.
"They're back."
Though, why would they take so much care in hiding from human eyes? Normally, they wouldn't bother.
Be careful.
She put the piece back into the cloth in his hand and stepped away.
Marcus looked like he wanted to protest, but she didn't want to hear it—why pick up something they had just dropped?
He wrapped the bundle back up, and offhandedly mentioned, "She also said something about a Rift there—how it was missing."
"Oh," her eyes widened, "What exactly did she say?"
He wasn't expecting her to sound so interested, "Just that." He faltered, like he was just realising how important it seemed to be, "It looks like it's bad. Is it that bad?" he asked.
"Depends on what caused it," she said, talking more to herself than him.
Its time probably ran out. Other than that—what could cause a Rift to disappear? It wasn't like they just opened and closed… all willy-nilly…
But—
What if… someone had gotten their hands on the ability to do that?... Did it even exist? What if it did?
She stopped herself there—no point in crying doomsday. It was nigh, no, it was impossible.
More importantly, how was she supposed to handle it now?
She wanted to put her face in her hands and groan— a headache was coming up. Could she pretend she hadn't heard about it?
No, she was setting herself up, just thinking about it— just leave it to the others. Right now, she had to return him home. The motive was entirely selfish— with him mouthing off like that—it felt like it would be dangerous if she heard anymore from him.
"For now," she picked up from where she'd left off, "It's time you go home."
The dim glowing white light picked up its brightness again, surrounding the boy.
"And Marcus," she called one last time, "Thank you. Truly."
She couldn't let him leave without saying that—he was the only one who went this far to help her—her friend to the very end. It was just too bad she wasn't worthy of his sentiments: she had no intention of going back there.
The white light enveloped him, and she was alone in the clearing. But it wasn't so pleasant to be left with her thoughts anymore—
So, this, was what it had come to.
Was it funny? The concept of Time itself had coalesced to form a single being, and this was how she turned out?
A coward, running away.
No. It wasn't even the least bit funny.
But what could she do?
She took off her jacket and went over to the sea of white stones, stopping a step away—which was as close as she dared—and squatted over them. It was favourite position of hers—so close to knowing, and yet, not.
She still had no wish to touch them. Couldn't everything just be like this—where it was okay not to know, not to do anything?
She closed her eyes and rocked herself with the breeze. Then, for the second time that day, a soft rustling came from the bushes.
Something slender crawled out from underneath. She looked away, watching the rocks again—it wasn't the first time she'd seen snakes in this place—they didn't bother her and always kept going on their merry way.
When she turned her gaze back to the side, there it was—a hand's span away from her, almost completely erect, its head almost to her own.
But that wasn't the only thing. Its eyes—
Its eyes were green.
Was this how that woman had chosen to send her message?!
It locked gazes with her for a couple of seconds too long. "You've done what you came here for," she hissed in a voice that wouldn't be unlike its own, "Now be gone with you." Servant or mistress, she didn't want to deal with either of them for longer than she had to.
But rather than making itself scarce, the creature jerked itself once, then lunged for her hand.
She moved out of the way, but accidentally overbalanced, falling backwards. She used her other hand to steady herself, and it landed right on top of the stones.
She shut her eyes and grimaced. Unable to help it—their history, everything rushed into her mind.
She'd been wrong— the park had received a few extra shipments years ago and had stashed them here to be sold. A few thousand pieces had been forgotten—that was all. Nothing as fascinating as the monkeys.
It was always disappointing.
It was over in a few seconds. She opened her eyes and found the emerald-eyed thing near her again. Seething, her own colourless pupils met it again— she could feel the glow in them—
"A time will come where you no longer can do this anymore—" she said lowly, power coating her every word, "—When you are a hundred years old and mere nothing on the ground."
It was a bit too much, but once they were out, there was no way of taking them back.
And this time she didn't wish to.
The snake writhed and began slithering away. It didn't get very far—a sound went through the space, like crackling firewood.
When she got up, wiped her hands, and walked back to her swing; a new layer of dust crunched under her feet. Her fingers had become a little number.
They could have it if they could take it, right?
But could she really leave things to one who'd send out such a challenge unprovoked?
It was one of the many things she didn't know.
Fine then—she'd see for herself one last time before coming to a decision.
A white stone nestled in her hand, she picked up her jacket and put it around herself, before walking out of the clearing.
She hadn't resigned just yet.