"In the beginning, there was silence.
Then, there was fire.
And from the fire came the gods…"
— Igbo Creation Scroll, Lost Verse
---
1967 – Enugu, Eastern Nigeria
The mango tree was on fire.
Its thick branches, once a haven of green shade and childhood memories, burned with tongues of orange flame. The smoke curled into the sky like the final breath of a dying spirit.
Beneath it, a boy knelt.
Ash clung to his skin like mourning cloth. His lips moved, but no words came. Just the sound of distant gunfire, the metallic scream of warplanes, and the quiet crackle of the flames devouring everything he knew.
Obinna Uduka didn't feel the heat anymore. Not from the fire. Not from the wounds on his knees.
He didn't even feel the pain in his heart — not the way he expected.
There was only... emptiness. Like something had broken, quietly, and scattered across the soil.
His mother's eyes stared at nothing — wide, glassy, and lifeless. Her face was stained with blood and dust.
His father's corpse was half-buried under what used to be their kitchen wall, his hand still curled around a useless hunting rifle.
And his little sister's fingers — small, innocent — still gripped the charred remains of the doll he had carved for her. The wooden face was melted and blackened, but the shape was unmistakable.
That doll had taken him three days to make.
He remembered how she had smiled when he gave it to her. Just last week. Just... last week.
And now?
They were gone.
All of them.
A dry wind blew through the ruins of the compound. Somewhere far off, a man screamed. Then silence.
Obinna remained kneeling, fingers clenched into the dirt. It felt like if he let go, he'd float away — into nothing.
He was fourteen years old.
And in that moment, he died.
Not physically — not yet — but something inside him did.
Something innocent. Something fragile. Something deeply human.
And in its place… something else opened its eyes.
---
The sky, once blue and endless, now flickered with cracks of green-black light. The kind of light that didn't belong in this world.
Obinna looked up.
High above, Nigerian warplanes danced in formation, trailing smoke like ink in water. But they were not alone. Strange machines, bulkier than anything made in Lagos or Zaria, flew among them. Their wings didn't flap. They didn't hum or roar. They whispered.
He saw one—large, hovering—release a blast that struck a building two streets away. The explosion wasn't fiery. It was... cold. Like space itself had torn open. The building folded into itself like paper, vanishing into nothing.
Obinna's breath caught.
That wasn't Nigerian tech.
That wasn't Biafran either.
Then he saw it.
A foreign general, standing atop a black tank near the hill road, hands clasped. Praying. Not in Yoruba. Not in Igbo. French.
"Seigneur… nous avons obéi. Brise-le."
"Lord… we have obeyed. Break him."
Obinna didn't understand all the words. But he understood enough.
This wasn't just war.
This was something deeper.
Something planned.
The air changed.
It became heavier. Like something ancient had been stirred awake.
The ground trembled beneath his knees. And from the depths of the earth, a vibration began — not a sound, but a voice.
One voice. Then many.
Layered. Echoing. Timeless.
> "He is born…"
Obinna's fingers slipped from the ground. His eyes widened.
Above him, the sky split.
Literally.
A massive crack zigzagged across the heavens, pulsing with green-black light. Through it, a radiance poured — not sunlight, not fire, but something divine. The clouds twisted, and from within, nine burning rings descended.
Each ring spun slowly, etched with symbols Obinna had never seen but somehow understood.
They burned with colors — red, blue, gold, silver, violet — and each shimmered with its own rhythm, like a heartbeat.
At the center of the nine, a figure stood.
Tall. White. Silent.
Its body wasn't flesh. It was space itself — filled with stars, galaxies, and silence.
> "Obinna," the voice said — not aloud, but inside him.
"Son of ash. Blood of kings."
"I am Chukwu. I am the Creator."
"Rise. The Nine Realms await you."
Obinna couldn't move.
Not because he was afraid, but because something inside him was unlocking.
Something buried.
Sealed.
He didn't scream.
He simply exhaled. And when he did, the world shook.
Chains — invisible, ancient — shattered all around him.
Not chains of metal.
Chains of spirit.
Of history.
Of silence.
These were the bindings placed upon his people centuries ago — by treaties, by churches, by colonizers who feared what they couldn't understand. The gods had been locked away. The truth had been rewritten.
But no longer.
Obinna stood.
And the world changed.
His skin glowed — not with fire, but with ancestral light. Symbols crawled across his arms, glowing in electric blue. His breath came in slow bursts, heavy like thunder.
And from his back, wings exploded.
Not ordinary wings.
Flames shaped like an eagle, the totem of Igbo royalty. They spread wide, casting a golden light that fought against the green-black corruption in the sky.
The mango tree behind him collapsed, reduced to ashes.
Obinna's feet cracked the ground beneath them. His grandfather's ceremonial staff — once carved for village rites — slid from the rubble, into his hand. It pulsed with power.
Blue lightning wrapped around it, revealing ancient Igbo runes that had slept for generations.
The boy — no, the chosen — looked toward the sky.
> "They will come for you," the voice of Chukwu said.
"From the North. From the coasts. From across the oceans."
"They fear what you are."
"They will name you demon. Terrorist. Plague."
"But you are none of these."
"You are the beginning."
Obinna didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The fire in his eyes spoke for him.
He turned, slowly, to the ruins of his home. His sister. His parents. His blood.
He let the silence stretch, long and heavy. Then he whispered:
> "Then let them come."
"This time… we will not kneel."
Above him, the Nine Rings pulsed.
And far across the land, in hidden shrines and forgotten tombs, the old gods stirred.
The war had changed.
And it would never again be fought by men alone.
---
🔥 Mini Dictionary
Obinna – "Father's heart" or "Son of the Father" (Igbo male name).
Chukwu – Supreme Creator deity in Igbo cosmology.
Sango – Yoruba god of fire and thunder; respected even across tribes.
Nine Realms – The nine stages of spiritual/magical ascension. Biafra and Nigeria each interpret them differently.
Eagle Spirit – Royal Igbo totem. Obinna's bloodline and beast form.