The Beckoning Shadow
Chapter 113: The Beckoning Shadow
Bayo's fingers brushed against the stack of papers, their crisp edges a stark contrast to the worn surface of his desk. As he moved to collect them, a sudden, searing pain lanced through his head, as if a white-hot needle had been thrust into his skull. He stumbled, his vision blurring, and caught himself on the edge of the desk. The rough wood bit into his palms as he fought to stay upright.
"Èṣe o!" [Ouch!] Bayo hissed through clenched teeth, the Yoruba exclamation slipping out instinctively.
The dingy walls of his apartment seemed to ripple and warp, giving way to a flood of nightmarish visions:
Vast cityscapes crumbling like sandcastles, their inhabitants screaming in terror as the ground beneath them opened up to swallow them whole.
The mocking laughter of Èsù, cruel and gleeful, echoing across a desolate landscape strewn with the wreckage of human civilization.