Blood&Neon: The curse of Onisha city

Chapter 8: The Eyes Beneath Dust

The smell of burnt iron clung to the night as the fire from Baba Yemoja's shrine still licked the sky behind them. Nimi didn't look back. He couldn't. Not after what he'd seen. Not after what he did.

Yagazie limped beside him, hand pressed tight against the bleeding gash on her side, her breath shallow but steady. They were running on instinct now—running from something unseen, yet deeply felt.

I told you we were never ready for that ritual, she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

And yet it chose us," Nimi snapped. "The Orisha don't wait for readiness.

Silence fell between them as they ducked through the side alleys of Isale-Jesu, the forgotten underbelly of Orisha City. This was where neon light never reached—where the cursed slept with one eye open and prayers were more like threats.

Suddenly, a boy stepped into their path. No older than 10, yet his eyes were white. Not blind. Ancient.

He held out a dirty hand. "Give me the mask, Omo Ogun."

Nimi froze.

Yagazie reached for her dagger, but the boy raised his palm calmly. Her weapon shattered to sand in her hand.

"Who are you?" Nimi asked, already knowing the answer he feared.

The boy grinned, and shadows swirled behind his eyes. "I am the Eye Beneath Dust. The one they buried in the first war."

"You're supposed to be a myth—"

Everything in this city is a myth until it wakes up angry.

The ground trembled. Somewhere far off, a siren cried—but it wasn't police. It was something older.

Suddenly, Nimi's bag burst open—the Orisha Mask of Iron floated upward, glowing with red-hot glyphs. The air grew thick, metallic. From the darkness around them, chanting rose. Not human.

The boy opened his arms. "Your city chose corruption. Now, it will learn price."

The ground cracked beneath them, and from it rose The Eater of Dreams, faceless and tall, with arms made of smoke and mouths where none should be.

Nimi screamed, but it wasn't fear—it was war. He reached into the glyphs of the floating mask and let Ogun's fury take him. His veins lit with molten light.

Yagazie, barely conscious, watched as Nimi began to change. His skin cracked. His voice became two. Three. Seven.

This was no longer just about survival.

It was the beginning of a city's judgment.