He opened his eyes.
Eze found himself standing in a tranquil, moonlit glade. The air was cool, with a low breeze blowing and whistling through the soft grass below. It was an open, empty space, with nothing but the dark blue sky and moon to accompany him. As he inhaled, the scent of the night filled his lungs—a mixture of damp earth, wildflowers, and something faintly sweet, almost like honey.
A single thread began to lower itself next to him. It was the work of the Spider, who followed closely.
"You like the view? Relaxing, is it not?" he said, as he landed on the ground.
"It's nice. Now, what are we doing today?"
It seemed Eze wasn't in the mood for small talk. Not that it would've deterred the Spider had he wanted to continue. Instead, the spider walked a great distance forward.
"Where too?" Eze asked.
Without any warning, there was a very large rumbling below his feet. So much so, it sent him off his feet. A black tree, at least four Ezes taller than him, shot out of the ground. Its leaves were blue and veiny, and its stem was darker than the night. Shadows clung to its bark, stretching out into the glade like fingers of the night itself. The branches as they reached upward, twisting in unnatural, almost sentient patterns. The tree shot into the deep and endless blue that made it feel like it existed outside of time, a place where the natural laws of reality didn't fully apply. This ever formidable tree had covered up his beautiful, breathtaking view, which had kept him at peace.
Crunch!
It is not the most natural of noises a coconut makes when it connects with the human skull. Regardless, it succeeded in gaining Eze's attention, as the Spider had risen to the top of the tree.
"You have come a long way, Eze. But there's something you must understand—power does not come from simply following my instructions. It comes from within you. It is time for you to create something on your own, to imprint your will onto these threads."
Eze looked at Anansi, with a hint of confusion. "Create something? Like what?"
Anansi's lips curled into a sly smile. "That is for you to decide," he said, his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief. "What do you need most right now?"
Eze fell silent, his mind racing as he considered the question. His thoughts spun towards different directions, none of them clear at the moment. There was one that seemed correct. He needed a weapon. One he could use to destroy this tree!
"Wrong answer."
"Huh?"
"Do not forget that I can read your mind. In fact sef, we are inside it right now. Think again."
After a moment of intense concentration, he spoke up, "I need…something that feels like an extension of me."
"Not very genuine. But, exactly. The threads are your medium. You are the artist. Close your eyes, clear your mind, and focus on what you want to create."
And then, the spider disappeared.
Eze sat down and crossed his legs as he let out a sharp hiss.
"That didn't tell me anything."
He stared at the massive black tree that now blocked his view of the serene moonlit sky. He didn't exactly know what to do.
He clenched his fists in frustration. "Anansi really loves being vague," Eze muttered. He knew this was another one of the god's tricks—forcing him to figure out the solution for himself, to learn a lesson hidden in plain sight. But what was it?
"Think, think," he whispered to himself. He had already mastered the basics of using threads to move. But Anansi wasn't asking for something like that. He needed to create this time. This was deeper, something tied to his identity.
"The threads are your medium. You are the artist."
Eze stared at the ground in front of him, mind spiraling. What did that even mean?
He focused, trying to bend them to his will like before, but they resisted, slipping through his mental grasp as though they were water flowing through his fingers. Frustration gnawed at him. Anansi wasn't here to help him. Why wasn't it working?
And unexpectedly, as soon as he blinked again, he found himself awake.
As soon as he sat up, he was back in the orphanage, in his bed, the soft morning light streaming in through the curtains. He rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the haze being in reality.
And as if on cue, a soft knock echoed through the door, before it creeked open again.
"Eze?" It was Chinwe.
There was a pause, then the sound of the doorknob turning. Chinwe peeked inside, her eyes immediately locking onto Eze. She stepped in and closed the door behind her quietly.
"Chai! Is this what you've been doing with yourself since?" she said, as she shut the door behind her.
He didn't answer however. In fact, he seemed to ignore her presence. His body was still focused on adjusting itself with his mind again.
"Eze, are you feeling well?" Chinwe notices almost immediately, giving him a quizzical look as they sit down for breakfast.
"It felt too real" Eze said, looking down at his outstretched palms.
"What? What are you talking about Eze?"
"Oh. Chinwe. Wh- what are you doing here? I thought Mr Okafor..."
"He allowed me. You don't worry about that. I'm more concerned as too why you've been sleeping all day." she said.
Eze shrugged, trying to play it off. "Yeah, just... tired, I guess. What's the time?"
"It's 12PM. That's besides the point. Does this have something to do with your-"
She cut herself off, cartoonishly glancing around for any secret listeners in the pretty much isolated room.
"Superpowers?"
"Spot on. As usual."
"I don't know what you expected!" she said, beaming a bit more that normally. "You've just got that look again," Chinwe says with a teasing smile.
Eze blinks. "What look?"
"The one where you're thinking too hard about something. It's like you're staring a hole into the universe."
He sighs, leaning back in his bed. "It's just... complicated. I'm supposed to figure out how to create something, but I don't even know where to start."
Chinwe tilts her head. "Create what?"
"The threads."
"I thought you could already do that."
"It's complicated, to say the least."
She laughs softly. "Eze, sometimes you think way too much. And that's supposed to be my thing. You're the one who just dives in and figures it out as you go."
"Can you blame me?"
"I guess it's been like this since the whole Iyana-Ipaja thing. But I swear you didnt use to think about anything." she said, her voice trailing off as she suddenly became aware of her bluntness. "No offence of course!"
Eze ignores the stray, as her words echo in his mind. He's always been quick on his feet—someone who acted instinctively. Maybe that's the problem; maybe he's overthinking what Anansi meant.
"Sometimes," Chinwe continued, "you just have to stop trying to solve it like a puzzle. You're always waiting for the perfect answer when maybe it's already there, in front of you."
Her words hit him like a slap from a Mother. He sat up, staring at her with wide eyes, as it had finally dawned on him. "That's it! I've been overthinking everything."
Chinwe blinked, confused. "Okay, but… what even is 'it'?"
"Alright, I'm going back to sleep again!"
"Eh? But you just woke up now!"
"Chinwe." he said, grasping her hands with sudden urgency. "Thank you. I really needed this."
She was taken aback, her cheeks flushing as she quickly withdrew her hands. "Needed what? What are you thinking ab-"
. . .
As soon as he closed his eyes, Eze found himself in the dream world once again. The same moonlit glade. The same massive black tree blocking his view. This time, he stood tall.
He stands still, breathing slowly, feeling the presence of the threads around him. Anansi's cryptic instructions come back, too: "The threads are your medium. You are the artist."
Anansi appeared again, perched in the tree's branches, watching with his ever-present grin. "Well? Have you figured it out yet, or are we going to waste more time pondering the meaning of life?"
His eyes snapped open, and he stared at his hands, feeling a subtle pulse beneath his skin.
The threads aren't separate from me.
They weren't just tools. They were part of him. An extension of his body, his mind, his will. He had been treating them like something foreign, something to be controlled. But that was wrong.
It was a strange sensation at first, like discovering an entirely new limb. The threads were there, flowing in the space around him, not something he had to manipulate, but something that responded to his thoughts, his emotions, his intent.
As he inhaled, he felt the threads pulse with his breath, not a tool to be used but a natural part of his being. His fingers twitched, and a single thread shimmered into view, not because he willed it but because it was simply there.
The shift from confusion to clarity was so subtle, yet so profound. He wasn't thinking anymore. He was feeling. The threads weren't something he had to control—they were an extension of himself, as natural as moving his hand or blinking his eyes.
With that realization, everything clicked into place.
His breath softened as he stretched out his hand. This time, he didn't force it. He didn't think. He just felt. And the response was immediate. A thread emerges from his hand, but this time, it's different. It feels like an extension of his arm, a natural part of him, moving not by conscious thought but by the same reflexes that make him run or punch. It was a complete understanding and not control.
They had always been there, woven into the very fabric of his being, waiting for him to see them not as tools but as something more intimate—something instinctual.
A quiet laugh escaped his lips. It was so simple, so obvious now. He hadn't needed to control the threads at all. He'd just needed to trust himself.
This time, it felt natural. This time, it felt right. Without hesitation, Eze raised his hand, and another thread shot out from his fingertips. He let the thread extend, feeling it weave through the air. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he guided it to wrap around the base of the tree.
The thread tightened, and with a single thought, the thread sliced through the thick trunk like a blade. The massive black tree cracked and groaned, toppling to the ground with a thunderous crash, revealing the serene, open sky once more.
"Anansi, I don't know why you're so rubbish like this. Why did you make me overthink things?"
"I thought it would be funny, to be honest."
"I don't need some grand revelation to create the threads. I've always had the ability. I just got tangled up in your stupid riddles and didn't how simple it actually is."
Anansi leaped down from the tree, landing gracefully beside him. "Simple, yet profound. Creation comes from within, Eze. The threads are not tools to be mastered; they are an extension of you. A reflection of your will. It seems you understand that now, which is...very...amazing. Eze."
He smiled slightly at the Spider's begrudging compliment.. "Why are you so hard to understand?"
"It is how I was made. I would not have it any other way."
Together, they gazed out as the sky stretched out before them, serene and clear once more.
"I think you should enjoy this. You have tried."
With that, Anansi disappeared again.
Eze now found himself sitting in a tranquil, moonlit glade. The air was cool, with the breeze blowing at a low intensity. It was an open, empty space, with nothing but the dark blue sky and moon to accompany him.
He smiled to himself. This was his space. His creation.
For the first time in a long while, he felt at peace.