Chapter 07

Chapter 07

Curses Don’t Announce Themselves

The first rule of Ahenemma Academy was simple:

If you can see the danger, you are already late.

Obrimpong learned this rule the hard way.

It began during Applied Shadows, a class Master Osebɔ taught personally. The students stood in a wide forest clearing, the ground marked with faint chalk symbols that looked more like scars than drawings.

“Today,” Osebɔ said, “you will meet what our ancestors called Nsuman-Kɔnsɔnkɔnsɔn—residual malice.”

Kojo raised his hand. “So… curses?”

Osebɔ glanced at him. “Curses don’t announce themselves.”

The air shifted.

Obrimpong felt it first—a pressure behind his eyes, like the forest had inhaled and forgotten to breathe out. The birds went silent. Even Mawuli straightened.

From the shadows between the trees, something peeled itself into existence.

It looked human once. Now it was wrong—too many joints, skin folded like wet cloth, eyes sunken and glowing faintly blue.

Kojo swallowed. “Okay. New rule. No screaming.”

“Pairs,” Osebɔ commanded. “No weapons.”

Adwoa immediately stepped forward. “I’ll take point.”

“Of course you will,” Kojo muttered, moving beside Obrimpong instead. “Congratulations, we’re not dead yet.”

Mawuli drifted away on his own, already gone before anyone could argue.

“Mawuli!” Obrimpong hissed.

Mawuli’s voice floated back lazily. “Relax. I’ll be nearby. Probably.”

The thing moved.

Not fast.

Certain.

Adwoa struck first, her kick cracking against its chest. The impact should have sent it flying.

It barely moved.

The creature’s arm twisted unnaturally, slamming into Adwoa and throwing her across the clearing. She rolled, sprang back up, blood on her lip, eyes blazing.

“Good,” she growled. “Now I’m angry.”

“Distraction time,” Kojo whispered.

Before Obrimpong could ask how, Kojo charged forward, shouting nonsense.

“HEY! UGLY! YOUR LEFT FOOT IS CONFUSED!”

The creature turned.

That was enough.

Obrimpong moved without thinking—silence first. He slid low, swept the creature’s legs. It collapsed with a wet crack, shrieking as shadow leaked from the break.

Adwoa was already there, driving her elbow down again and again.

The thing dissolved into smoke.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Kojo exhaled loudly. “I lived. Add that to my achievements.”

Mawuli stepped out of the shadows behind them.

“It was bait,” he said casually. “Weak on purpose.”

Osebɔ appeared at the edge of the clearing.

“Correct,” he said. “And yet…”

Another presence rose.

Bigger.

Heavier.

Obrimpong’s stomach dropped.

This one had a face.

A child’s face.

Its mouth stretched too wide, whispering names. Fear. Loss. Regret.

Adwoa froze.

“That’s—” her voice cracked.

The creature lunged.

Mawuli intercepted it, hands moving in precise patterns. Shadow wrapped around his arms like liquid. The impact sent him skidding back, feet carving lines into the dirt.

“So,” Mawuli said, finally serious. “That’s annoying.”

“Together!” Obrimpong shouted.

They moved as one.

Kojo distracted, darting in and out, talking nonstop. Adwoa struck with brutal force, refusing to slow down. Mawuli restrained the creature’s movements, shadows binding it in place.

Obrimpong stepped forward.

For the first time, he didn’t hesitate.

He placed his palm against the creature’s chest and released—not strength, but intent. Calm. Control.

The shadow shattered.

The clearing exhaled.

When it was over, all four stood breathing hard.

Osebɔ nodded once. “You survived because you trusted each other.”

He turned away. “Do not assume the next one will be merciful.”

That night, as they sat on the roof again, no one joked.

They had crossed another line.

And far from the academy, the masked master felt the disturbance ripple through the world.

“Ah,” he murmured. “They’ve started.”

The shadows were no longer waiting.

They were moving.