Snapped out of his daydream, he found out that he’d walked absentmindedly outside in the direction of the scavenger camp.

  Was I going to the tower again? he thought. But then he shook his head slowly. He daydreamed most of the time while walking to the tower. However, this time was different, he didn’t even know when he went out of the house, and despite the bustling crowds and sounds in the street he didn’t hear anything. It was as if he were guided by someone… or something. And this feeling, he’d only had it once in his life.

  It… it’s calling me again? From that far? The more Kazeem thought about this possibility, the more his body shook. Then he forced himself to stop and tried to think rationally.

  I wasn’t going to the tower… but to the vine. But why? If what Maa said is right, I entered a “cursed area”… but she didn’t tell me exactly how it works. Is it normal that I fled? Or is it because of it that I’m cursed right now? I need to ask her today or that djinn might really make me crazy.

  “Oh, so now instead of a liar you became dumb.” He heard the same old voice, but this time slightly irritated.

  This voice helped him out of his thoughts again. This time he looked carefully at who talked to him. He thought it was one of Yassena’s acquaintances, but the person he saw made him take a step back.

  The old woman in front of him was one of the people he actively tried to avoid these days. Wrapped in ochre and barkcloth, bones sharp beneath her skin. Her only eye, with a purple iris, was blurry but sometimes flickered with a knowledge nobody wanted to receive. Her walking stick, carved with old symbols, seemed more vivid and unsettling now that Kazeem had become more sensitive. They seemed to say something, but he knew not to focus on them.

  Old Meza, spirit-watcher, stood in front of him with a crooked smile. He had always been skeptical about the power people gave her, but after experiencing it himself and after what his parents had told him these days, saying that he was scared was an understatement.

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  “So the mask didn’t kill you, huh. Alright, come with me,” she said as she passed next to him, not taking no as an answer.

  “N—…!” Kazeem tried to refuse, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t because of a punishment resulting from trying to go against the scene. It was more like an order that he couldn’t refuse. Slowly, his feet weren’t responding to him and he started to walk, following the old lady as she headed toward the forest to the north of the town.

  While walking he hoped someone would notice something wrong and help him, but all the people encountering Old Meza lowered their eyes and walked in different directions. Some didn’t even meet her gaze, but the sound of her walking stick was enough to disperse the crowd around them.

  Kazeem hated this feeling, even more than the pressure the major scenes made him feel. At least with them he knew it was something he could fight; here it was something he couldn’t even see. It was a curse given by a djinn,a remnant from the primordial era. It something powerful enough to make time its plaything.

  BUT THIS OLD WOMAN was just in front of him. Skin on bones, an elderly woman who needed a walking stick to move around. Who was she to scare him? Who did she think she was to order him around?

  His initial fear transformed into anger. The simple thought of being manipulated by someone like that made his blood boil.

  Fucking hag, who do you think you are?! Release me. RELEASE ME. RELEASE ME. RELEASE ME. He started to scream in his mind. Then something started to change.

  His amber eyes started flickering more and more. His stare became extremely cold and ghastly, so much that the old woman shivered a bit. Feeling something was wrong, she started to walk a bit faster.

  Without turning around she said, “Hey, don’t try anything funny and just follo—” but then she witnessed that something was wrong… very wrong.

  People seemed to talk slower than normal. The children playing afar were unusually fast. The chickens running around stopped. The merchants yelling seemed to talk backward.

  Her years as a spirit-watcher were screaming at her. Without thinking twice, her eye lit with an airy light. Weird purple flames appeared on her walking stick and she swung it toward Kazeem’s head.

  He could clearly see the stick approach his head with a violent force. The heat from it was intense, almost burning his eyelashes. But he couldn’t move.

  Is that how I die? Fuck no! Why does it always happen to me?! I swear if I survive this shit I will KILL THIS OLD BITCH!

  Suddenly a big hand grabbed his collar and tossed him two meters away.

  When he regained his balance he looked up and saw him.

  “Meza! You should’ve told me if you wanted to die. You didn’t need to touch my son to let me know.”

  closing thought :

  If the author wants me dead, it has to go through him first.