The House of Adesina was a remarkable sight to behold.
In all of my years, never had I seen such a massive structure, with land wide enough to match its grandeur. Miles before we reached the building, it was already in view—rising like a fortress carved from stone and glory.
The place buzzed like a market. Travelers and warriors moved in every direction, riding a strange beast I had never seen.
"What is that?" I asked.
Deji answered, "An Ashtari. It evolved from the Eland antelope—the largest, most adaptable in the world. Originally wild. Impossible to tame. But over the years, the divine families bred it. Enhanced its attributes with divine essence."
I couldn't look away. It was majestic. Back home, we used horses. I'd seen a camel once, and even a real antelope—but this was different. It looked like something the gods would ride.
That wasn't the only surprise.
At the sight of a Madarikan, my body reacted. Instinctively, I stepped back, hiding myself. But Tor laughed.
"Why are you hiding?" he asked with a wide grin.
Simi immediately smacked his arm. "Tor," she scolded, before turning to me. "They're not here for you. These ones come to buy Divine Crafts or join the family."
Still, I kept my eyes on them. My mind didn't care for logic. For three months, people in that fabric had hunted me. The sight alone stirred something deep— Fear. Rage. A need to survive. Word spreads fast. What I did wasn't just memorable—it was the kind of thing that travels. Maybe they didn't know the details. Maybe they didn't know my name. But if even one of them somehow knew my face… It could be a problem. So, with all this in mind, I kept my distance
As we made our way through the compound, various Madarikans and Hands greeted Deji with subtle nods and words of respect.
"Good day, Major Deji."
"Hope the contract went well, Major."
"You're early as usual, Major Deji."
I noticed. They didn't just greet him—they admired him.
"They must really respect a Major in this place. Is it like this in other Divine Families too?" I wondered to myself.
Inside, the Adesina house was just as grand as the outside. High ceilings. Soft, golden lighting. Walls polished and lined with divine symbols. Every piece of furniture looked handcrafted, built not just for function, but pride.
I would have never dreamed a place like this existed. It feels like a privilege just to stand here.
No wonder those Madarikans want to be part of this family. Who wouldn't? Living here must feel like heaven.
Simi led Tor toward what looked like a health center tucked into the heart of the building. I turned to Deji.
"Will you not be treated too?"
"Not yet," Deji said. "You have to meet my Master first."
I hesitated, then asked, "Major Deji… how does one become a member of the family?"
"You're about to find out," Deji replied.
We climbed a wide staircase to the upper floor. At the end of the corridor was a tall door. Above it, carved into the frame in precise, ancient script: Master Abiodun.
Deji knocked three times. A moment passed. Then a voice from within—firm and calm.
"Enter."
Deji opened the door and stepped in. I followed.
The room was quiet and cool. Lined with books, Divine Crafts, and a wide window spilling sunlight across the floor. Master Abiodun Lawal stood behind a large desk.
Deji bowed his head deeply. Unsure of the custom, I copied him.
"At ease," the Master said.
Deji stood upright and gave me a slight nudge. I quickly straightened, trying not to look out of place.
The room was immaculate. Every scroll, letter, and note had its place—stacked with care, no clutter in sight. On the far wall, two uniforms were displayed side by side: a Hand's attire and a Major's. Their placement wasn't random.
A tribute to his own journey, He's an interesting man already.
"How was the contract?" Master Abiodun asked.
"It was a rigorous one," Deji replied. "But something strange happened."
Abiodun's eyes narrowed.
"We went in expecting to handle a single Morduk… but there were a dozen."
"What?" Abiodun stood immediately, eyes wide. He looked Deji up and down, as if expecting missing limbs or torn flesh. "A dozen? And you're still standing here?"
He shook his head in disbelief.
"Even I wouldn't come out untouched after facing that many. How is that possible? Where are your Hands?"
"One suffered a major injury, but he's receiving treatment now."
Abiodun sat back down slowly. "Then explain to me how you handled the situation."
Deji let out a breath. "Honestly, I could barely handle two. The rest… he took care of."
He pointed at me.
If the mention of a dozen Morduks had stunned the Master, this left him speechless. His eyes fixed on me as he stepped forward, almost skeptical.
He circled me slowly, then placed both hands on my shoulders—examining me, as if trying to feel the truth through touch. His hands moved to my arms, my chest, then my back. He even knelt to check my legs.
Then he stepped away, shaking his head.
"It's not possible," he muttered. "There has to be a logical explanation."
"There is," Deji said. "He's partially Fallen."
Abiodun's confusion deepened. Before he could ask more, Deji turned to me.
"Wait outside."
***
I stood outside, restless, as if waiting for a verdict.
"Would I be rejected? What if the Master is just like the Madarikans and demands my head? That would be wise. I'd expect that." I thought to myself
I glanced around, unease settling deeper in my chest.
"I don't fit in. One wrong move, and I could—
No. Don't think like that. Major Deji will handle it. He will." I said trying to convince myself everything was going to be alright, no need to welcome negative thoughts.
I sighed, frustration creeping across my face, beads of sweat gathering at my brow.
"You there!"
I jumped, my heart racing.
"Where did he come from?"
Already on edge, the sudden voice made me tense up even more.
"Who are you?" the boy asked, his tone curious.
I paused, taking a moment to steady myself. The boy was small, smaller than I'd expected for someone wearing the attire of a Hand.
"Who are you?" the boy repeated, his tone more insistent now.
"Are you looking for someone?" I asked, trying to be polite but cautious.
The boy's eyes narrowed, irritation flickering.
"I'm Tolu Obaloluwa," he said with authority. "Hand of Major Ayo, Major to Master Abiodun." His voice sharpened. "Now I'll ask again. Who are you?"
His hand hovered over what looked like a concealed craft, a gesture that instantly caught my attention.
Realizing how quickly the situation could escalate, I straightened, meeting the boy's gaze.
"Tuedon Akenzua. I'm about to join Major Deji's Hands."
Tolu studied me, clearly unimpressed with the look on his face.
"You don't look like it."
I frowned, my confusion deepening. "Look like what?"
"You don't look like someone who could be a Hand. Especially not under Major Deji." Tolu scoffed. "He's not as legendary as my Major, but still…"
Tolu sucked his teeth, eyeing me like I was beneath him. "You don't even look fit to be a Hand of any sort. Maybe a Madarikan. No—actually, even that? I don't think you'd do a good job."
I stared at him, still confused by the sudden hostility. Sure, I looked far from healthy—who could blame me? I hadn't eaten a proper meal until Major Deji rescued me. That made what I'd done to the Morduks even more unbelievable, and maybe that's why the Master couldn't believe what Major Deji had told him.
"I'm not trying to be rude," I said calmly, "but even if I'm not in the best shape yet, you don't look much better physically. So why try to put me down when you're no different?" I asked.
"How dare you!" Tolu snapped, stepping forward as if ready to lash out.
Before he could, the door behind them creaked open.
"What's going on here?" Deji's voice rang out, steady and commanding.
Tolu froze, quickly lowering his head in respect. "Major Deji."
"At ease, Tolu," Deji said, his gaze shifting between the both of us. He looked at me. "Let's go."
Without a word, I followed Deji. As we walked away, I felt Tolu's furious gaze burning into my back. I wondered what his problem was—but that didn't matter right now. What mattered most was finding out what Major Deji and his master had discussed.
Because of Tolu, I couldn't eavesdrop.
Had they accepted me? Or was this the end of the line?
***
Even as the hours passed, Deji said nothing about whether I'd been accepted. I kept waiting, but… nothing.
No explanations. No decisions. Just action.
Instead, he got me settled in—no big announcement, no warning.
He assigned one of his Upper Hands to show me around. His name was Bajo Okundeyi—a broad-shouldered type with muscle packed onto a frame slightly taller than mine. I couldn't immediately tell if he surpassed Tor in height, but the difference wasn't worth measuring.
Someone with his build shouldn't have spare time, not unless something had gone wrong. It had. Word was he'd been injured on his last contract—badly enough that the higher-ups pulled him from rotation and forced him to rest. Whatever the damage had been, it was healing now. I couldn't see any visible wounds, but the stiffness in his walk hinted at spinal trauma. A reminder that even those with Divine Essence weren't untouchable. If people like him could end up that broken, then the average villager never stood a chance.
We began the tour of the compound. Bajo was...warm. Too warm, if I'm honest. Easy to talk to, eager to explain. He'd volunteered for this, just to pass the time. Apparently, guiding a stranger was his idea of productive healing. I didn't mind. My situation was still a mystery even to me, but it was nice to speak to a human without accusations or fear in their voice.
The first place he took me was the Watchtower. I'd seen it on my way in—what I didn't know was that there were several of them. They were positioned at every major point in the compound, tall enough to scan for intruders or Fallen Creatures long before they got too close.
Next, we moved to the training field, located at the back of the main building. The field alone was massive—so wide, five entire villages could fit inside it. It also served as the venue for major events and general announcements.
We passed through the grove, where rare and special trees were planted, then stopped at a dock near the riverbank. It was used for transportation between the compound and other villages, mostly in the Western region.
After that, the compound tour ended and we returned inside the house.
I had already been shown my private room, located on the second floor with the other rooms assigned to new Hands. Since my status hadn't been decided yet, I was placed in a guest room for the time being.
Still, that gave me a sliver of hope. They wouldn't bother giving a full tour to someone they planned to execute or send away. Right?
Bajo led me next to the Health Center, which I'd already seen earlier.
Then we reached the Shrine—a quiet, sacred space tucked deep inside the building. It was used for essence transfers, divine rites, and other spiritual rituals.
Bajo turned serious.
"Never enter here alone," he warned. "Only come with a Major or a Master." Then he added, "The Father's presence lingers here. Sometimes... he's even inside."
The way he said it made me tense.
The word Father didn't sound symbolic—it sounded literal.
Like entering that shrine alone might cost me something.
Next, we visited the Craft Shop—the only part of the building open to outsiders. It sat on the ground floor, where non-members could come in, browse, and purchase Divine Crafts.
Everything else belonging to the family was built above—layered by rank and purpose.
"Non-members never go up," Bajo said. "Ground floor's the limit for outsiders."
We moved on to the Hall, located on the middle floor. It served as a casual gathering space for Hands during their free time, or as a backup meeting spot when the training field couldn't be used due to rain.
And that led us to the Master rooms—five in total, each spaced apart, but all radiating the same quiet authority.
Each Master had their own room.
They ate there.
Held meetings there.
I glanced around, then asked the question stuck in his head.
"What if a sixth Master is made? Do they just build a new room?"
Bajo smiled. "There won't be a sixth. A Father can only have five Masters. That's the rule."
"Why?"
"He only gives out half his essence. That's enough for five strong Masters. Sure, it comes back with time—but if he gives too much, it takes longer to recover and messes with him."
I didn't respond, but questions kept stacking in my head.
With Deji quiet, and Simi and Tor nowhere to be found, Bajo had become my reluctant professor.
"What happens if a Master dies in battle?" I asked.
"The essence returns to the Father," Bajo replied. "And the Father gives it to the Master's chosen successor."
"And if the Master dies without picking one?"
"Then the Father chooses the most successful Major."
Akenzua raised an eyebrow. "What about the Father? If he dies?"
Bajo shrugged like it was obvious. "His essence goes to whoever he chose before death. Every Father has a successor—even if no one knows who it is yet. But it's most likely the most successful Master."
I was stunned.
This wasn't just a fighting force.
It was a dynasty. A structure carved from law, blood, and essence.
The buildings weren't the only things designed with care.
Even the power they held was passed down with intention.
And for the first time, I saw the Adesina Family in a new light.
Not just warriors.
But a system—built to last.
***
Days passed, and I settled in—quietly.
I didn't go out much. Deji still hadn't said a word about my place in the family.
The only thing he made clear was that no one—not me, Simi, or Tor—was to speak a word about my Fallen nature.
With no clarity beyond that, there was no point pretending I belonged.
For all I knew, they could hand me over to the Madarikans at any moment.
So I kept to my private room or lingered near the Craft Shop, watching strangers come in to browse Divine Crafts.
On days when no Madarikans were around, I'd step inside quietly, admiring the strange creations in silence.
One day, a particular item caught my eye—a stool. Oddly shaped. I stared at it for a long time, wondering what anyone could possibly do with such a thing in battle.
But I never asked.
I kept my questions—and my presence—to myself.
Weeks went by like that. Still no word from Deji. No one else seemed interested either. Tor and Simi were usually away on contracts with Deji's unit. When they returned, Tor kept his distance.
"You never know when he'll snap," he warned Simi more than once. But she didn't seem to mind.
Whenever she had the chance, she visited me. She'd talk about their missions—the Fallen creatures they fought, the chaos they survived. It was oddly refreshing—for both of us.
Simi had been in the family for years and was still a Lesser Hand, with just 23 completed contracts. She needed over a hundred to become an Upper Hand. Most of the Hands she started with were already close, and Tor was one of them—with 76 contracts completed. She blamed her slow progress on being a woman. According to her, there were female Uppers, even female Majors like Adeshola—but most women were pushed into medical support roles, not battle.
Few were fighters. She often vented to me about it.
"We can do more," she'd say. "We should."
I wasn't convinced. Not yet. But she was determined to prove it. She promised I'd understand soon enough.
So my days continued. No answers. No orders. No threats.
And slowly, I began to wonder if this was it. Not exile. Not punishment. Just quiet confinement. A soft prison to keep me away from the world—and the world safe from me.
If that's the case, I thought, maybe it's for the best.
***
Just as I had begun to accept my assumed fate, Major Deji summoned me to his room with news that changed everything.
Master Abiodun had decided to make me a Hand—and purify me of my Fallen nature in the process.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"Purified?" I asked, stunned. "Does that mean… I won't transform anymore when I take palm wine?"
Deji nodded. He explained that for me to become a Hand, Master Abiodun—or any other Master—would need to transfer a portion of their essence into me. And when Abiodun did, he would locate the source of my transformation… and destroy it.
It was complex, but possible.
I was speechless.
This was it. The best news I'd heard since the massacre. I could finally become a Hand—finally fulfill my vow—without endangering anyone.
I hugged Major Deji tightly, nearly on the verge of tears.
"Thank you," I whispered.
Deji told me to stay ready. The purification could happen at any moment. Master Abiodun intended to keep it a secret until the official inauguration of new Hands, as no one else knew about my Fallen nature.
From that moment on, I lived in quiet anticipation. Joyful. Hopeful.
For the first time in a long while, I felt like a future was possible.
I would no longer be a danger to the world. No longer a cursed name hiding in shadows.
I would be a contributor. A protector. As great as Deji—no, greater.
A Master.
This was my second chance. And nothing would stand in my way.
Days went by, and eventually—as expected—Major Deji came to my room and invited me out in secret. I wasn't told where we were going until we arrived at the entrance of the shrine.
I hesitated. Bajo had warned me about this place.
Deji noticed and gave a reassuring nod. "It's fine."
Inside, I felt it instantly—the change. The air was different. The scent alone told me this place wasn't ordinary.
The shrine was massive. Three large trees stood rooted within the structure, their leaves gently rustling despite the absence of wind. These were Dai Trees—the original divine trees said to have been made by the Gods. I had never seen one in person before. So this was where Daiwood came from… Used to craft Dais, the wooden discs traded across all kingdoms. Each Dai was shaped from this sacred wood, smooth and sturdy, roughly the size of a man's palm—like the bottom of a drinking cup. Small enough to carry. Valuable enough to feed a family.
A divine statue loomed in the background, shapeless yet defined, like a god caught between forms. Its surface was smooth in some places, jagged in others, like it had been carved by instinct rather than tools.
I couldn't tell where its eyes were—if it even had eyes—but I felt watched.
One wrong move, and it felt like the thing could unmake me.
Deji caught the curiosity in my eyes.
"That's the divine statue of the god who came to bless the earth with life and divinity," Deji said quietly beside him. "Every divine family has one. It's the representation of the world's greatest strength and power."
I said nothing, but the awe was clear on my face. Since arriving in the Adesina household, I had seen many incredible things—but the shrine outshone them all. How many humans even knew this existed? How much more was hidden from the world?
Then I noticed the shrine maids. Four of them, by my count. They wore short white cloths—one wrapped around their chests, the other around their waists—leaving their stomachs, legs, and faces exposed. They moved quietly, tending to the space without looking in his direction.
At the center of the room was a wide, open pool of clear water. Just beside the divine statue stood what I assumed was the main shrine, likely where the Father performed rituals.
Deji instructed me to wait. It was midnight, and most of the household was asleep—except for the Hands on duty outside.
Then, Master Abiodun entered.
He wore a flowing blue robe and walked with purpose. Without speaking, he motioned for me to get ready.
I blinked, unsure. "What am I supposed to do?"
Deji stepped in. "Get naked."
"What?"
"Hurry. Take off your clothes—we don't have time."
I exhaled slowly. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn't ignore the feeling that I'd been exposed too often lately.
First, I was sure Simi had seen me naked after the Madarikans left me with Major Deji. And now, four strange women would see me again—stripped bare before the gods, the family, and whoever else wandered close enough to look. At this rate, the whole world would see me naked.
No matter.
Even if the entire world stood in a circle and stared, I would still do it. I would strip myself bare every day if it meant tearing the thing inside me out—if it meant finally being free.
It was worth it.
I began to undress, one piece at a time until I stood bare.
At the shrine, Master Abiodun was already performing quiet incantations. I couldn't understand them. The air had thickened, charged with something I couldn't explain. Then, Abiodun stepped forward with a divine tray, holding materials Akenzua didn't recognize.
Abiodun walked barefoot into the pool.
Deji gave me a small nudge. "Go."
I stepped into the water. It was cold but calm. Moving toward Master Abiodun, who placed the tray on the water—and it floated. Then, the Master picked up a cloth, dipped it, and handed it over to me.
"Wash," he said.
I did as told, scrubbing my skin slowly. As I washed, Master Abiodun continued chanting, moving in a slow circle around me.
When he was done, Abiodun stepped out of the water.
One of the shrine maids approached and handed me a towel.
The ritual was about to begin.
Master Abiodun and I sat before the divine statue, a stool placed between them. We held hands and rested them on the stool. Deji stepped forward, picked a string of beads from the tray, and used it to tie our hands to the stool—tight, but not painful. Then he stepped back.
Abiodun closed his eyes and began to chant.
I kept my eyes open at first, watching nervously, unsure of what to do. Deji gave me a quiet look—a small, wordless nudge—and I understood. I closed my eyes.
At first, I was fully aware—listening to the rhythm of the incantation, the stillness of the shrine—but then, suddenly, everything stopped.
Silence.
I couldn't feel the ground beneath me . Couldn't feel Abiodun's hand or the stool. I tried to open my eyes, but nothing happened. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. Couldn't hear.
It was as if my body no longer existed.
If I had to describe it, it felt like being both conscious and unconscious at the same time.
"Am I dead?"