“Onuoha, we need to take her out, and we need to do it now,” the woman in a dark cloak and stilettos whispered to the man beside her. Her voice was sharp and urgent, but it was barely audible over the crackling noise from outside.
I tried to move, but my limbs felt like lead, and the air surrounding me was thick with the stench of blood, threatening to suffocate me.
The man, Onuoha, stood rigid with his gaze fixed on me. When I managed to raise my eyes, I noticed his left hand was not normal. Not human. It was unlike anything I had ever seen in Nkwor town before. It reminded me of the strange stories I would read in old, tattered books at the market. It gleamed in the dim light—metal fused with something else, something pulsing faintly beneath its surface. It did not move like a natural limb; when his fingers flexed, they made no sound. They were too smooth, too precise. Also, too impossible. I must have hit my head somewhere, or my mind was probably clouded from whatever this thick stench was.
I shifted my eyes from his hands and tried to focus on lifting my body, but pain tore through me.
“We cannot do that,” Onuoha muttered to the woman. “She is the first Ibuné with four marks on her cheek. You know what this means. The Sanje would have our heads if we did that.”
“And who will tell him?” she asked, stepping closer and grasping his glistening metallic arm, stroking it, tracing the ridges until Onuoha’s eyes flashed a lighter shade of green. Her voice dipped as she whispered all too softly, almost sweetly— “The men stationed outside heard the explosion. For all they know, the girl killed herself and her family. The Sanje does not need to know we found an Ibuné with four marks,” she pleaded with her eyes.
I did not know who or what a Sanje was. Or what an Ibuné was. Neither could I understand why these people were here in my home, but they had deadly weapons and mentioned other men waiting outside. I needed to find my parents, and it was best to do it now, while they argued.
I pressed myself against the wall behind me and forced my body up but was only able to drag myself up to a slouch. My waist felt like it was on fire, only the fire was burning inside. I tried again to straighten up and push against the wall but an excruciating pain that raced across my back stopped me. There was that stench again. The one that reeked of iron and decay, of something too thick, too warm. I knew where it came from. I just didn’t want to look. Why did blood smell so damn bad?
Blood! My heart lurched. I jerked my head to the side and saw my mother, surrounded by a pool of crimson red, what seemed to be her own blood. Then I turned and saw the gruesome sight of my father. His legs, twisted unnaturally. His hands were contorted, his fingers were broken in too many places and his face was crushed beyond recognition. I sat there in agony, in the raw and suffocating loss of two people who told me how they would one day hold my children.
This had to be a nightmare.
I pulled myself over to lay beside my mother, hoping to fall asleep and return to our small, warm house in Nkwor. Or sleep till eternity, if the family I had was truly gone.
My wish for oblivion did not come.
I soon felt the cold, unrelenting hands of Onuoha grabbing my waist, lifting my limp, trembling body off the floor, and carrying me outside. The woman in stilettos sneered at him, then at me.
“Where are you taking me?” I managed to whisper.
“To the Sanje of Fallé,” Onuoha responded.
“Please, we have to take my parents. We must help them,” my shaky voice broke as my legs wiggled side to side on his shoulder. The metal from his arm pressed coldly against my skin, sending a sharp chill through me.
“Shhh. Get some rest, girl. You’ll need it,” Onuoha muttered, adjusting his grip.
“I still think this is a terrible idea, Onuoha. Our daughter is an Ibuné. The only one with three marks in their entire tribe for now! Why would we present the Sanje with a complete Ibuné?” the woman argued, frustration evident in her tone.
“Oh, so that’s what this is about for you, eh? Power.”
“Of course not,” she replied.
“Yes, it is!” Onuoha snapped. His voice was edged with disbelief. “Instead of you to think of the greater good. Of the battles ahead that the tribe would have chances of winning with the help of a complete Ibuné. You’re more interested in being the mother of the leader of the Ibuné tribe.” He said, walking past her.
Onuoha carried me outside, and I saw it—a spheroidal, huge bump-like ship with its sharp nose pointed toward me like a predator poised to strike. It had wings that curved unnaturally as if they were breathing, and rotors that spun steadily, probably responsible for keeping it suspended in the air— an airship unlike anything I had ever imagined, let alone seen in Nkwor. It towered above us, its metallic surface rippling like liquid under the moonlight. It hummed. A low and vibrating hum against the earth, like a living thing waiting to take flight.
I barely had time to take it all in before Onuoha lifted me, clicking a button on his metallic arm. A faint hum filled the air, and suddenly, an invisible staircase flickered into existence, stretching down from a newly opened door high up on the airship. The steps shimmered, barely visible—more like light than solid matter—but they held firm under his weight. He climbed swiftly, carrying me, and the others followed close behind. The moment we stepped inside, the staircase vanished, dissolving into nothing as if it had never been there. The interior was colder than I expected. It was dimly lit, with strange, ancient-looking symbols carved along the walls. He placed me on a narrow bed in what I assumed was a compartment meant for rest, then handed me a drink. This liquid was thick, dark, and bitter. It ran down my throat like fire, but almost immediately, I felt my energy surge and the weight in my limbs began lifting. It lifted just enough to keep me from sinking into complete exhaustion.
Sleep claimed me.
When I woke, the low hum of the airship was still steady beneath me. We were still in the air. I sat up slowly, my body sore but no longer as weak as before. When I saw Onuoha step into my compartment, I took the chance to ask him again, “Where were we going? What happened to my parents? And what is happening to me?”
He exhaled before speaking. “Did your parents ever tell you about other tribes that exist in a different realm?”
I hesitated and forced my mind to fumble through memories. “My mother… erm…she told me a story once. About my great-grandfather being from a place far away from here. But I thought it was just a folktale.”
“It wasn’t.” His voice was firm. “Your mother’s stories were true. And the world you know in Nkwor is not the only one that exists.” He paused, watching my reaction, letting the weight of his words settle before continuing. “There is… a veil between worlds,” he said slowly. “Not always visible, not always stable. Some say it shimmers, others say it distorts the air, like looking through warped glass. People like us can feel it, sometimes even see it. And eventually, we can cross over.”
I stared at him, a strange mix of astonishment and relief washing over me. I hadn’t been crazy all this time, despite what I was made to believe.
His eyes searched mine. “Have you ever felt it? A moment where the world around you seemed to glitch—like a flicker in the corner of your vision that was gone before you could turn to it?”
“Maybe,” I murmured. “There were times I thought I saw… things. I told my friends, but they said I was just tired. That I needed more sleep.”
A knowing smile crossed his lips. “You didn’t need more sleep.”
“There are other realms, separated by barriers,” he continued. “Within these realms, nobody is completely human. And this airship—” he gestured around us, “—is about to cross into one of them. Into a world called Fallé.”
Fallé. The name settled on my tongue like something old, something familiar.
“It is ruled by the Sanje,” Onuoha continued. “The people there belong to tribes, each with different abilities, different forms. You’ve been staring at my hand…”
I flinched.
He smirked. “I was born this way. My tribe is known for this.” He lifted his metallic hand, and his fingers flexed in that same smooth, unnatural precision. “A line of warriors. Half of our bodies were forged like steel and carried the strength of a thousand men. Whatever we do with this hand, we do exceedingly well.”
I swallowed hard.
“The woman outside,” he went on, “is from a tribe that possesses telekinesis. She can move things with just a thought.”
My mind raced, but curiosity got the better of me and I decided to dig into something he had mentioned earlier. “And… the conversation you had with her? What you called me—Ibuné. You said your daughter was one too. What does that mean?”
I noticed his expression darken slightly. “The Ibuné are the protectors of Fallé. They are chosen and marked by powers no one can explain. Every firstborn daughter in a century—” He stopped, then corrected himself. “In a long time, one appears. No one makes an Ibuné. No one decides who becomes one. They… just are.”
I blinked. “So…” I paused, “The Ibuné are all women?”
He chuckled. “Yes. Very strong ones.”
For the first time since this nightmare began, I smiled. I had read books, even the torn and battered ones thrown out at Nkwor market, but none had stories of women like this. None where women were more than side characters, more than someone’s wife or mother. The thought sent a strange kind of warmth through me, even if everything else still felt like a bad dream.
Onuoha tilted my face to the right, then to the left, studying the four marks that ran along each side of my cheeks. His thumb brushed against the marks on the right side, “Did your parents ever explain these?”
I hesitated. “They told me they were tribal marks. But not one they put on me. My father said they were like birthmarks. They said it was nothing to worry about, that it meant the gods had blessed my future.”
He smiled, shaking his head. “They really wanted to protect you. I admire it.”
His next words caused my breath to seize for a moment. “No normal person bears tribal marks from birth, not like yours at least. Only the Ibuné have them. And the number of marks determines rank.”
I stared at him, realization sinking into my bones. “And your daughter—she has three?”
He nodded. “She is highly respected. The only known Ibuné whose third mark grew out completely on each cheek. Others bear one or two marks, and can barely manage a third. A few carry two marks on one cheek and three on the other. She leads her tribe in battle.”
“Against whom?” I asked.
His gaze darkened. “Fallé does not exist alone. Other existing worlds seek to conquer it—because they fear what we could become. Our people do not age once they cross into the realm. Time does not touch us there. These other realms fear that if they do not stop us now—if they allow us to grow, to master the power of the Ibunè’s—there will come a day when we will rise beyond Fallé and take the universe itself.
My pulse pounded. “And me? How come I have four of these,” I brushed the marks on the right side of my cheek.
“We have been searching for an Ibuné like you for many years.” He exhaled, his gaze lingering on me. “These marks grow at intervals. The first one appears on each side of your cheek and then the next one follows after some time. It continues like that. Did you ever notice that?” He watched me closely.
“To be honest, I don’t know. I just knew that they seemed to increase in number” I shifted uncomfortably.
“From the moment your first mark appeared, we began tracking you. By the time your third mark grew, we were ready to bring you in. But the Sanje ordered us to wait—one more year.”
My throat tightened. “Why?”
“Because he believed your fourth mark showed signs of growth. There have only ever been myths of Ibunés with four marks — nothing confirmed. Most Ibunés stop growing marks by their twentieth year since birth. Even a third mark is rare. You were approaching that final year, and we needed to be sure. No one would believe it until they saw it with their own eyes.”
I felt cold.
“We planned to retrieve you just before you attained your full power.” His jaw clenched. “But we were too late.”
Something about his tone sent a sharp pang through my chest.
“You…” He exhaled heavily, then met my gaze with something almost like regret. “You caused the explosion in your home. The one that killed your parents.”
His words crashed over me. My ears began ringing.
“No,” I whispered.
His voice was distant and his expression became unreadable. “Your power…when the fourth mark completed, it consumed you.”
“No.” The ringing in my ears grew louder, drowning out everything else.
Killed my parents.
No.
Suddenly, the ringing wasn’t just in my head anymore. It was real. A low, vibrating sound, crawling beneath my skin. I didn’t know how, but I could feel it. It was moving through my veins and pulling me toward something.
A warning.
“Duck,” I said.
“What?” Onuoha asked me.
I didn’t repeat myself. There wasn’t time.
I moved on instinct, grabbing Onuoha and pulling him down just as a fireball ripped in through his side of the airship—through the metal—and out through the window beside me.
“We’re under attack.” The woman in stilettos rushed into the compartment, panting. Her face was a taut mask, unreadable, but a flicker of something I read as unease crossed her eyes as she glanced at me.
Onuoha turned to me, studying me for a beat too long.
“Thank you,” he said.
I blinked.
“How did I know?” I asked instead. The ringing, the pull in my veins. I had never felt anything like it before, yet somehow, I had known exactly when to move.
“You just did.” Onuoha pulled me up without another word, already moving toward the back of the airship. “I’ll explain later. You’ll get the training you need from the leader of your tribe. But for now, we need to get you to Fallé safely.”
The woman in stilettos peeked out through the opening the fireball left in the hull. “There’s too many of them,” she said, her voice sharp. “We can’t fight them all off. I’ve tried turning their ship around, but I can’t. They’re probably protecting it with a reflector or something. What do we do?”
“I saw this coming. I made arrangements,” Onuoha said with a firm tone. “I and the rest of the men will hold them off. Enemma, take the girl,” Onuoha commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos. He clicked the button on his metallic arm once again, and just like before, a low hum echoed. He stepped closer to a narrow window and motioned toward the invisible, light-like staircase that had flickered into existence once more, spiraling downward.
“It’ll lead to the waiting airship,” he added, his eyes locked on Enemma.
My stomach twisted. Enemma. Great! Finally, a name to match. But Leave? With her? The same woman who had wanted me dead just hours ago?
No.
“I’ll hold them off with you,” I said, squaring my shoulders.
Onuoha’s eyes darkened. “You’re too important. It’s you they want. You need to leave with her.”
I shook my head, planting my feet where I stood.
His jaw tensed. He glanced at Enemma. She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Fine. I’ll hold them off. Go with her.”
Everything moved fast after that. Onuoha grabbed my wrist, and before I could ask any more questions, we were running. Running through chaos, jumping through the sound of metal splitting apart, and flying down the stairwell, the smell of fire and smoke clawing at our lungs.
We were halfway through the invisible staircase when a streak of green light shot through the air, halting our escape. The blast struck the steps behind us, shattering them into nothingness. My heart slammed against my ribs as I saw the fragments dissolve into the void. I stumbled, but before I could fall, one of our warriors from the ship leaped from behind. He moved with impossible speed, his arms stretching and catching us mid-fall. I felt the sudden rush of air and the faint hum of some kind of power vibrating through him as he lifted us.
With a forceful thrust, we soared downward — that was when I noticed the large, leathery wings unfurling from his back. They beat against the air, sending spurts of wind through the smoke-filled sky. He flew straight for the second airship, his firm hands, though appearing human, carrying Onuoha and me with ease.
But Enemma didn’t follow.
I twisted around just in time to see her break away. She charged toward the enemy with a fierce expression, her braids whipping behind her. One of their soldiers, clad in gleaming metal, raised a gun-like weapon — a spiked thing that pulsed with green energy. Before he could fire, the weapon jerked violently from his hands, as though seized by an invisible force. The metal twisted and contorted mid-air, bending in on itself with a harsh screech. Enemma hadn’t touched it. She didn’t need to.
Another blast came from the enemy ship, this time releasing green goo streaking toward her, but with a flick of her wrist, the substance halted, suspended in the air, and then reversed its course. When it crashed back into the enemy lines, the goo exploded, igniting a flash of green fire.
We had made it to the other airship with our winged warrior guiding us when Onuoha noticed that Enemma, with the help of the remaining warriors on our crumbling ship, had taken down the enemy ship. He quickly clicked the button on his metallic arm, and the staircase spiraled back into place, glowing faintly. Without hesitation, Enemma and the others crossed it, reaching us in moments.
I watched the rise and fall of her chest closely, her breath still ragged from battle. She was strong and brave. That, I would give her.
#
Fascinating was an understatement when it came to describing Fallé.
When our airship landed, Onuoha and I strolled through the towering cityscape, where structures seemed to defy gravity. Fallé had houses that hovered just above the ground like they were stubbornly refusing to touch the dirt. Some floated lazily, bobbing like they were tethered to an invisible balloon, while some spun slowly, gleaming with rainbow-like tiles that flashed purple and gold.
“These are the pride of the Mbene tribe — masters of levitation,” Onuoha said proudly, smiling as he caught my wide-eyed stare.
I was amazed. It was the kind of engineering that probably kept parents up at night wondering if their toddler was going to float away. Onuoha pointed to a cluster of them, their rooftops spiraling higher and higher as we moved past.
As we walked, I tried not to stare too hard. Every corner seemed like something from a dream someone forgot to explain. There was a fountain of glowing water, and its liquid spilled in twists and curls like it had somewhere important to be. Onuoha said it was infused with some kind of mineral that stored sunlight.
“Like bottled daytime?” I asked, grinning.
“That’s one way to put it,” he chuckled, his eyes catching the glint of the fountain’s glow.
Further down, I spotted trees with leaves that flickered like candle flames. People sat beneath them, probably enjoying the free mood lighting. I watched as a gust of wind shook the branches, and instead of leaves falling, tiny glowing seeds floated up like fireflies. It was beautiful.
And then there was the Skywell tribe, where I had come to learn our winged warrior belonged. Their people had wings that unfurled like banners, mostly when danger abounded or during their ceremonial flights. Their houses and structures shimmered like polished silver. And they had a big shiny dome—like a mirrored bowl, that caught the sky, reflecting back whatever was above. Onuoha said that it showed glimpses of the past too if it “trusted you enough.” But when I stared into it, all I saw was my reflection. “You’re new, give it time,” he assured me with a smile.
Of all the tribes we had passed on our way, it was the Ngwele-adi that captivated me the most.They called themselves the “Upside Down Ones”—Ngwele-adi in Fallé’s language. Their houses, their airships, their weapons, even their bodies would appear inverted: heads where feet should be, feet where heads should be. Not because they truly were, but because the Ngwele-adi possessed the uncanny ability to emit waves that could distort visual perception, causing others to see them as inverted when they chose to. And according to Onuoha, they often chose to. Rather than terrifying, I thought it mesmerizing.
When we reached the Ibuné tribe’s territory, Onuoha explained what our title meant. “Protectors,” he said. Unlike the other tribes, we were not a people bound by land or structured communities. We were warriors. Warriors that were scattered across Fallé. Warriors that were stationed wherever we were needed most. We lived among different tribes. And guarded their leaders and their secrets. We were fewer in number than the other tribes, but we possessed the strongest abilities.
While Onuoha spoke, his daughter—the leader of the Ibuné—stepped forward. She met my gaze and then placed two fingers to her lips to let out a sound. It was sharp and commanding, like the call of a great beast.
At once, Ibunés appeared from every direction. Some descending from the sky, and some leaping down from hidden nests. They moved in perfect harmony, forming an aligned row behind her, heads bowed in unison as they welcomed me.
It was beautiful. They were beautiful. And something in me longed to belong with them.
With another signal from their leader, they dispersed just as quickly as they had come.
Enemma, the woman who had initially opposed my presence, stepped forward and embraced her and Onuoha’s daughter.
“Does the Sanje know we have arrived?” she asked.
“Yes,” her daughter responded with a nod. “He has been expecting you all.”
“Well then, lead the way,” Enemma said.
Onuoha caught my gaze and nodded—an unspoken promise that we could explore Fallé later. First, I had to meet the Sanje. I had to present myself as the redemption this realm so desperately sought.
But as we approached the grand gates that led to the Sanje’s chambers, I felt it again. A pulse of energy through my veins. Something was off. The same unease I had felt on the airship before the attack. But this time, I couldn’t act on it. I couldn’t place where the danger lurked, and I couldn’t reach Onuoha in time.
Because before I could react, I heard Enemma scream, “Nowww!”
I felt chains around my neck. My waist. My hands. They were heavy, and suffocating, and they reeked of blood. The same scent from earlier.
The realization hit me as I collapsed. As my body was drained of its strength. The smell of blood—it weakened me. It stripped me of my supposed power. This time, it left me paralyzed on the floor.
I could still see. Still hear. But I couldn’t move.
I could hear Onuoha raging beside me, “What are you doing Enemma? Let her go at once!”
A deep, resonant, and powerful voice suddenly cut through the chamber, “Silence at once.”
The man who spoke sat high upon a throne, his voice reverberating through the chamber like the echo of an incredible bell. He was no ordinary man. At least he did not resemble one. He had three horns sprouting from each ear, curving sharply and jagged like the spines of a beast. His hands were gold in color, and they somehow shimmered unnaturally, almost liquid in their movement when he waved them. His presence felt large.
Enemma, Onuoha, and all the other gathered warriors bent onto one knee at the sound of his voice.
“Sanjeeeee isiiiii,” they chanted in unison and bowed reverently to their leader.
Onuoha’s voice was urgent as he stood. “Sanje, she is the girl. The complete Ibuné. The one you sent us to locate and guard. Please, command Enemma to release her.”
The Sanje smiled. “I will do no such thing.” His voice rumbled again like a quake beneath us. “You are too noble, Onuoha. One of the reasons I trust you. But also, the reason I could not entrust you with this mission.”
Onuoha’s face darkened. “The mission was to retrieve her unharmed. To train her, so she could fight for us in the coming war.”
“Not quite,” the Sanje said. “From what I have learned of complete Ibunés, they may possess the power to kill a Sanje. I cannot allow that. The girl must die.”
Onuoha’s voice sharpened with anger. “I won’t let you.”
“Oh, don’t be naïve, Onuoha. If you stand in my way, you will share her fate.”
“My tribe will not allow it.”
The Sanje chuckled. “Are you sure about that? I spoke with your leader. He supports my decision.”
As they argued, something changed.
The blood scent began to fade. The weight on my body lightened. Strength slowly flickered back into my limbs.
I could move. And I felt like I could fight.
I felt Onuoha’s foot nudge me lightly. And I somehow heard his voice. It was almost imperceptible, and I did not see his mouth move. But I heard him say: Ibunés can read thoughts. This is me hoping you can hear mine before my daughter does. I know the blood weakened you, but you are a complete Ibuné for a reason. Fight. And run.
His words filled me with determination and suddenly, heat surged through me. My chains started to glow. Then burn. Then melt.
“You cannot just kill the girl, Sanje.” Onuoha pleaded.
The Sanje turned to Onuoha. “That’s where you’re wrong. I am Sanje. I can and I wi—”
I did not let him finish. I cut him off.
Fire exploded from my hands, and I carved that fire into a sharp blade that sliced through the rest of my chains—and his head.
The Sanje’s body fell, his three-horned skull bouncing across the stone floor.
I heard screams. Chaos. I watched as Enemma and the warriors scattered in shock.
I felt someone grab my arm and turned to see Onuoha. “Start running,” he said.
We ran. Even as fire and weapons were flying after us, we ran. I slashed through those I could with my blade-like flames, cutting down the Sanje’s soldiers as they pursued us.
We finally reached a rock formation in the outskirts of the city and took cover behind it.
“They won’t stop until you’re dead,” Onuoha panted. “The next elected Sanje will want my head as well. We need to leave here at once.”
“I—I’m sorry,” I stammered. “Is he dead? I didn’t mean to kill him. I couldn’t control it. He was going to kill you. I felt it.”
“It’s okay,” Onuoha assured me. “Just cover me for a bit.”
I peered out, cutting down three more warriors before turning back to him. “Where do we go?”
“To your great-grandfather.”
I froze. “My great-grandfather is alive?”
“Yes. And he sent the men who attacked us on the airship earlier. He was trying to get to you before the Sanje did.”
Anger flashed across Onuoha’s face again. “I thought…I believed the Sanje had good plans, but…I was wrong. I was fooled.” He scoffed, “Fooled by Enemma. How could she?!”
I summoned fire into my palms, carving my blade-like flames into fireballs at will, marvelling as I watched them transform into orbs. With a flick of my wrists, I sent them hurling at the warriors that were creeping toward us again.
“Umm…You can maybe beat yourself up later,” I said. “I think we need to go. Now.”
We sprinted toward an escape path.
“Wait,” I said, halting as I remembered. “What about your daughter?”
“She’s not mine,” Onuoha muttered. “She’s Enemma’s. I took her in because I loved her mother. But I was wrong. They both cannot be trusted.”
We reached an open space, and I turned to him. “Did you make arrangements? Do we have an airship waiting? Something invisible maybe? Because we will need stealth to escape.”
Onuoha smirked. “Who needs an airship…” He grabbed my waist with his left hand, bent, and slammed his right on the ground. A massive shockwave erupted beneath us and launched us into the sky with rocket-like force. “…When I can do that,” he completed.
Fallé slowly became a blur beneath us.
