Chapter 4: Sister’s Sacrifice

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself inside one dark backroom.

Air heavy, smell thick—old mat, kerosene, and something bitter, worse pass herbalist shop. My spirit wake, everywhere quiet like midnight shrine.

In front of me, half a bowl of dark green medicine dey, the smell alone fit make person faint.

This one pass ogogoro. Nose burn, eyes dey water. If dem use am for market, everybody go run.

From the sour and bitter taste for my mouth, I know say the other half of the bowl don already enter my belle.

My tongue dey numb. I spit small, see green stain—no be play play. My head dey spin like person wey drink ogogoro empty belle.

Sharp sharp, I run my spirit power to clear the poison.

Old habit, sharp sense. I dey work my spirit through body, chase the poison like hunter chase goat.

This kind of medicine—I sabi am well.

Na so so shrine life bring me this kain wahala. Poison, backbiting—dem be like rain during rainy season.

Last life, when I first join shrine, many people jealous my talent, so them dey always try to poison my food with this same thing.

Jealousy na bad thing o! Na so so small small enemies dey hide, add nonsense inside your soup, dey test your spirit.

Luckily, I was careful and moved up fast, so I never fall for them.

I dey always shine my eye—no be every meat I chop. My sense sharp.

This poison no dey harm body, but it go straight to corrode the three souls and six spirits—if you never reach the next level, e go kill you sharp sharp.

Spirit poison—ordinary person drink am, na bye bye. If you dey practice, you go feel your body dey leave you small small.

If them use am on ordinary people, it just go make their death look normal.

So nobody go suspect foul play—just normal sickness, people go say na village people.

I look this strange body, then see the poison for table, and I put two and two together.

My mind dey sharp, connect story quick. This body na victim.

The original owner of this body na just ordinary man, poisoned to death here.

His dreams, his love, everything cut short—only empty shell remain.

My spirit just use the chance to enter his body.

Spirit wanderer like me, chance dey come when somebody fall.

But why a spiritualist go do all this wahala just to kill ordinary person?

My spirit prick me—this one no be ordinary matter. Why go through all this just to remove one simple man? E get secret inside.

Who really want am dead?

Whoever do am get heavy reason—maybe land matter, maybe family, maybe shrine politics. My sense dey warn me: this wahala never finish.