The Last Call III

The next morning, Adigun couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong. His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. A message from an unknown number;

"Your fate is sealed. The gods are not merciful."

His stomach churned as he read the words. He was no longer certain of anything. The more he tried to ignore it, the stronger the feeling became. 

Desperate for answers, he contacted his father's friend, an elderly man named Chief Olamide. Olamide was wise and respected by everyone, but he always seemed distant. Adigun decided not to think much of his cryptic advice but his words echoed in his mind all day;

"Go to your grandfather's village. Find the truth before it's too late."

That afternoon, Adigun set out for the village where his grandfather had once lived, hoping to understand what was happening to him. It was a journey he had never planned to make, but it was as if something mystical was calling out to him — he could no longer resist it.

When he arrived, the village seemed peaceful, quiet, almost unreal. He felt a strange force pulling him forward. He walked as if in a trance and approached an old shrine that stood at the heart of the village. It was ancient, overgrown with vines and moss, yet there was an undeniable energy emanating from it — like it was alive.

As he stepped closer, the air grew colder, and the shadows lengthened, as if the shrine itself was watching, calling out to his soul. The carvings on the stone seemed to shift, the faces of ancient deities staring back at him with cold, judgmental eyes.

A voice, deep and resonant, whispered through the wind.

"The chosen has returned."

Adigun looked around, but there was no one there. Suddenly the full weight of his family’s past crashed down on him. The deity demanded a price for his family’s defiance, and now it was his turn to pay. 

His mind raced. He thought of his simple life in the city, of how he did not want to be a part of the darkness slowly taking over his life, but he knew he could not run from this. His choices were limited, and the consequences would shape his life forever.

The whisper came again, soft but undeniable;

"The bloodline returns. The price must be paid. You cannot escape."

Adigun closed his eyes, trying to steady his thoughts. Was he destined to become the next priest, forced into servitude by the same deity his ancestors had defied? Could he refuse, and risk eternal destruction?

"You cannot escape the bloodline. It calls to you, just as it called to your father.

Adigun’s breath quickened. He was torn between fear and defiance. He gripped the amulet around his neck—the last thing his father had given him and said in a loud voice;

"I refuse to serve you."

The ground beneath him shifted. The air grew heavy, and the earth around the shrine seemed to pulse as if in response to his words. The wind howled, carrying the faint sound of a drumbeat. The dark clouds swirled in a slow, deliberate circle as the voice called out;

"You refuse to serve? You defy your bloodline? You dare to defy the gods?"

Adigun’s eyes narrowed as he stepped forward, his stance defiant but filled with a quiet reverence. His mind was made up and he was ready to bear the consequences.

"I don’t want power. I don’t want this life you offer. I want my freedom." He replied with quiet authority.

The wind howled louder and he heard the drums beat harder and faster, as they grew louder in his ears. The deity was furious. Its presence grew stronger. But Adigun stood firm and unwavering.

The ground cracked, its deep rumbling vibrated through Adigun’s bones as he stared at the shrine, his fists clenched. The deity’s shadow loomed over him, but it was not just the deity anymore—it was the weight of all his ancestors’ past decisions, the bloodline, the sacrifices. Adigun crashed to his knees with fear, but his voice was soft and steady;

"I choose to live my own life."

Just then, the wind died down, and the drums stopped. A tense silence filled the air. The deity’s presence hung over him like a shadow, looming — deciding his fate. Adigun's breath was shallow as he quivered.

Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him. Adigun scrambled up and turned around, eyes widening. A young man stood in the shadows, his posture confident and imposing, his eyes filled with anger and bitterness. He looked like Adigun—but there was something darker about him. Stunned, breathless Adigun asked;

"Who are you?"

The young man smirked and stepped forward. His features are sharp, his gaze cold and filled with resentment. There was an unsettling familiarity in his presence, something Adigun couldn’t quite place.

"So you’re the one who turned your back on this... power?" His voice dripped of disdain.