"Honey?"
"Honey?"
Uche blinked repeatedly, snapping back to reality.
"Huh?"
His eyes met those of his wife, Antonia, whose concern was etched on her pretty face. They were both seated at a small round table in their kitchen.
"Honey? Is something the matter?"
"No, uh, nothing's the matter," he replied.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I just spaced out a bit."
"Okay."
The chiming sound of the microwave caught Uche's attention.
"Oh, that's our food," Antonia said, rising to her feet. She retrieved a plate of lasagna from the microwave and set it on the table. Taking the first bite, she sighed contentedly.
"Ahahn, when did you make lasagna?" Uche asked, still confused.
"Don't you remember? I made it yesterday." Antonia scooped another spoonful and held it up to her husband's mouth. "Come on, honey, open up."
"Eh?" Uche raised an eyebrow, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks.
"Don't you want me to feed you? The kids aren't around, so I thought we could be a little romantic," she teased.
Uche took the spoonful and swallowed before responding. "Kids? Did Nora come over?"
"No, our children," Antonia said, feeding him another bite.
"We have more than one child?" Uche asked, his confusion growing.
"Of course we do—Rob and Victor. Are you sure you're okay, honey?" This time her concern was deeper as she set the spoon down on the plate.
"Rob isn't—"
The sound of the front door opening cut him off. Two men's voices filled the house as they entered. Uche turned his head to see Rob and Victor walking in, both wearing police uniforms.
Antonia chuckled. "Shouldn't you two be on patrol or something?" She got up to embrace them.
"Hey, Mom," they greeted in unison, returning her hug.
Uche remained seated, staring at them in disbelief.
"Hey, Dad," they greeted him, but he didn't respond.
"What the heck is going on here?" He muttered under his breath.
Noticing Uche's distress, Rob asked, "Dad, are you okay?"
"I am not your father!" Uche's voice boomed, silencing the room and shocking everyone.
Suddenly, his head began to throb with searing pain. He clutched his head and screamed.
"Honey, what's wrong with you?" Antonia asked, panic lacing her voice.
He didn't answer. The pain was unbearable, as though a giant were stomping on his skull. Wailing in agony, Uche bolted from the kitchen into the living room.
"Dad!" Rob, Victor, and Antonia followed him.
"Leave me alone!" Uche shouted before storming out of the front door. His hands clutched his head, his face twisted in torment.
Then, as suddenly as it started, the pain ceased. But the world around him had changed.
He heard a discord of monstrous roars above. Looking up, he saw the sky turning crimson, the vibrant blue replaced with a fiery red hue. All the plants around him withered and died. Winged creatures circled the skies, swooping down to attack fleeing civilians.
On the ground, monstrous beings of varying shapes and sizes roamed. Some had horns and fur; others scaled like a serpent. Some were humanoid, while others defied comprehension with their twisted features and unnatural proportions.
"Demons," Uche whispered in horror.
He thought about his wife. His heart froze as he turned back toward his home. His eyes widened in terror. Victor lay lifeless on the ground, and a hulking, humanoid demon held Antonia by the neck.
The creature was repulsive, with one horn longer than the other and pale gray skin. Its gaping mouth was filled with razor-sharp teeth, and a long, snake-like tongue slithered out from between its fangs.
Antonia struggled desperately as the behemoth's grip tightened around her neck. Though her voice was faint, she managed to choke out the words, "Uche, dear... help."
"Antonia!" Uche shouted in despair. He charged toward the creature, his heart pounding, but he was too late. The monster tightened it's grip, crushing Antonia's neck with a sickening crunch, separating her head from her body.
Ruby-red blood gushed from her neck, drenching the creature's arm. Uche froze in his tracks, his breath caught in his throat. He stared in horror, unable to scream, unable to move, his mind unable to fathom the gruesome sight of his wife's brutal death.
The creature swung its arm in the air, trying to fling off the blood, then turned its gaze to Uche. With a deafening roar, it charged at him.
Uche's body moved instinctively, stumbling backward in an attempt to escape, but his feet betrayed him. He tripped and fell, landing hard on the ground. The demon's long, jagged claws stabbed into his chest, lifting him high into the air.
A wave of intense pain washed over him as blood soaked his clothes. His vision blurred, and his eyes turned crimson as he gasped and coughed out blood.
Suddenly, the world around him began to shift; the chaos transformed into a battlefield—a wasteland, littered with death and carnage, covered with the bodies of men and monsters as far as the eye could see.
Then, in an instant, the creature's head was severed by a swift blade. Uche plummeted to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. His trembling hands clutched his chest, but to his surprise, the wounds were gone. He tore open his blood-soaked shirt, revealing unbroken skin.
His eyes darted upward to find the one who had slain the demon. Before him stood a tall, dark, and muscular figure, the sunlight behind him obscuring his face in shadow. The man's shirt was tattered, revealing a powerful physique adorned with glowing tattoos. The markings emitted a fiery orange-red hue, faintly pulsating like embers.
Uche's gaze shifted to the weapon the man held: a magnificent sword. Its silver blade shimmered as though it were forged from celestial light, its edges perfect and divine, and etched into the blade were the words "Gladius Regis."
The man began to speak, his voice deep and calm, but the words were strange and unfamiliar.
"Greh-tings... Teh-rah... Trah-vel..."
Uche's brow creased in confusion.
"Greh-tings... Teh-rah... Trah-vel," the man repeated.
"I... I don't understand," Uche stammered, his voice weak.
The man's tone grew more insistent. "Deh-meh-nee-ahl Trah-vel."
Uche's eyes widened in shock.
"Honey!" The man's voice suddenly shifted. "Honey!"
"What?" Uche's expression turned perplexed.
"Uche, dear!"
Uche woke with a scream, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. He glanced around, his breath slowing as the realization dawned—it was only a nightmare.
"Uche, you were screaming in your sleep," came Antonia's concerned voice. She was sitting beside him, her eyes filled with worry. "Are you having those nightmares again? The ones about the demons?"
"Yes... It was... those dreams again," Uche stammered, still shaken.
Antonia reached out to comfort him, but he pulled away, climbing out of bed and leaving the room. He made his way to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, and downed it in one swift motion, the cold liquid doing little to soothe his nerves.
Moments later, Antonia followed him, wrapping her arms around him from behind.
"It's alright, dear. Come back to bed and tell me all about those nightmares," she said softly.
Uche turned to face her, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. Silently, they walked back to their bedroom together.
The next morning, Uche woke up earlier than his wife. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he muttered to himself, "Deh-meh-nee-ahl Trah-vel," repeating the strange words spoken by the man in his dream.
He turned to his sleeping wife, watching her peaceful face for a moment before quietly hopping off the bed. After washing his face, he got dressed for a morning jog.
On his way to the door, his attention was caught by the attic door. He stood there for a few seconds, staring at it as though drawn by some unseen force. Then he shook his head and continued out of the house.
When he returned, he was greeted by the smell of breakfast, and he found Antonia already awake and busy in the kitchen.
"Morning, babe," he greeted, stepping inside.
"Morning, dear," she replied, her back turned as she flipped something in the pan. "I hope the nightmares didn't come back."
"Uh, no, they didn't," Uche forced a smile. "I slept well, actually."
As he walked toward their bedroom to freshen up, his eyes wandered again to the attic door. For a moment, he hesitated, then continued on his way.
After taking a shower, Uche joined Antonia for breakfast. He sat at the table, staring at the meal in front of him: akara and bacon with custard. Akara, a Nigerian snack made from beans, sat neatly on his plate, but his appetite was nowhere to be found.
He idly stirred the custard with his spoon, drawing circles in the bowl. His gaze shifted to the entrance of the corridor that led to the attic door, lingering there for a few seconds. Finally, he sighed and began to eat.
When he finished his food, he left the table and walked down the corridor, stopping in front of the attic door. He pulled down the foldable stairs, the creak of the hinges echoing faintly in the quiet house.
"Uche dear, have you seen the TV remote?" Antonia's voice called from the living room.
"Uh, check between the couch cushions," he replied, his hand still on the attic ladder.
Moments later, Antonia appeared in the corridor, her head tilted curiously. "Are you going up to the attic?" she asked.
"Yeah," Uche said, glancing over his shoulder. "I want to get some old documents I have stored up there."
She approached him, close enough that he could feel her warmth, and placed her hands gently on him. "Documents about what?"
He met her gaze, his voice steady but guarded. "Just some old files from before I retired. I want to check something."
"Okay, dear," she said, giving him a soft kiss on the lips before stepping back. Uche watched as she strolled back to the living room, her steps light and relaxed.
When he was sure she was gone, he climbed up into the attic. The space was dimly lit, dust floating in the beams of light streaming through the small window.
His eyes scanned the room, eventually landing on a cardboard box tucked into a corner. He made his way over, crouching down to inspect its contents.
Inside, the box was filled with files and documents. He rummaged through it, pulling out papers and setting aside anything irrelevant.
Then his hands found a pink folder. Sitting atop the folder was an old photograph of him and Herald from when they first arrived in Birchwood. They were much younger then, full of youthful energy, and still dating their wives.
Uche stared at the photo, a solemn expression crossing his face. After a moment, he placed it gently back into the box and retrieved the pink folder.
Opening the folder, he found handwritten documents. The title of the first page caught his attention immediately:
"Deh-meh-nee-ahl Trah-vel."