Kola stood still at the water's edge, his sharp eyes scanning every corner of the forest. Something didn't sit right with him. The area was too clean, too undisturbed. If this was the site of some dark ritual, there should be more evidence. Charred earth, broken twigs, or something to hint at the strange men Bayo had claimed to have seen.
"I don't buy it," Kola muttered, eyes narrowing.
Tomi, inspecting the moss-covered rock, looked up. "You think Bayo's lying?"
"I don't know. But I know this place isn't telling me the truth," Kola replied, his tone cold and calculated.
Bayo, who had been standing by the stream, suddenly spoke, his voice soft. "I'm telling you the truth. I saw them. The men in black. I wasn't making it up."
Kola looked at Bayo for a long moment before replying. "Let's get back to camp. We need to think about this."
---
On the way back to camp, Kola's mind wandered to his own past. He had grown up on the streets of Oyo, where survival was a game of instincts. His childhood had been rough, his father a shadowy figure who had never been around long enough for Kola to learn much from him. He had learned everything on his own—how to read people, how to trust his gut.
"Tell me more about your farm, Bayo," Kola said, changing the subject. "What exactly do you grow?"
Bayo blinked, clearly startled by the shift in conversation. "Cassava, maize, and sometimes yams. My children loved the farm. Ade, my son, wanted to plant the biggest yams in Odo Aso…"
His voice trailed off, his eyes glazed over, remembering his lost children. He couldn't stop himself from wiping away fresh tears. Tomi, trying to offer comfort, gave him a slight nod but said nothing.
As they trudged through the woods, Kola turned to Tomi, who had been quiet for some time. "You okay?"
She nodded, though her eyes were still on Bayo, who walked a few steps ahead, lost in his thoughts. "Just thinking... Maybe there's more here than just a tragic fire. Something about Bayo's story doesn't feel right."
Kola gave her a look that said he agreed but didn't voice it.
By the time they set up camp near the stream, the air was thick with tension. Kola didn't know what to make of Bayo's tale, but his instincts were screaming that something was off. It wasn't just the cult he was after—it was something deeper.
They settled around the campfire, and Bayo, still haunted by memories of his family, remained mostly silent. The crackle of the fire was the only sound for a while.
Tomi turned to Kola. "We'll need to press Bayo more tomorrow. Something doesn't sit right with me."
Kola didn't respond. His eyes were trained on the fire, but his mind was elsewhere, searching for clues he hadn't yet found.
It was only when they had begun to lie down for the night that Bayo froze. His body went rigid, his eyes wide with terror, fixated on something far off in the distance.
Kola and Tomi turned toward him in confusion.
"Bayo?" Tomi asked gently, but he didn't respond. He just stared, his face pale with fear.
"What's wrong?" Kola asked, his voice hardening.
Bayo's lips trembled as he stammered, unable to form a coherent word. "I... I see him..."
Tomi looked around, trying to make sense of the situation. "Who do you see, Bayo?"
But Bayo just continued to stare ahead, his breathing erratic. "The man... in the mask... he's here... he's … here...."
Kola's eyes snapped to the direction Bayo was looking. His instincts kicked in, and he immediately saw what Bayo had seen.
A figure, tall and still, stood just beyond the reach of the campfire's light. The shadow of a man, cloaked in black, unmoving.
Kola's blood ran cold. "These bastards," he muttered, barely audible.
Without hesitation, Kola shot up from his mat. "Stay here!" he barked to Tomi, and without another word, he broke into a sprint, charging towards the figure.
Tomi's heart raced. "Mr. Kola!" she shouted, her voice full of concern. "Don't rush blindly after him!"
But Kola was already halfway to the figure, his footsteps heavy on the earth. "Damn it!" he muttered to himself, curses spilling from his lips as he closed the distance.
Tomi stood frozen, torn between following Kola or staying with Bayo, who was still shaking, wide-eyed and staring at the darkness.
The figure didn't move, standing like a shadow in the night, waiting for something. But what?
Kola didn't stop. He pushed through the brush, heart hammering in his chest.
Then, in the distance, a sound—a low, unsettling whisper—drifted on the wind. It wasn't words. It was a voice, foreign and hollow, calling out to him.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as the world around him seemed to close in. Something was wrong, very wrong.
And the figure... was it waiting for him?