AYÀNDÁ – THE CHILD OF DESTINY

Written by SpecialMide

       Ayàndá did not sleep that night. He lay awake long after the spirits disappeared into the darkness and the villagers ran back into their huts whispering about destiny, omens, and trouble larger than the whole of Aragbanla. Even Aduké, who usually teased him until he loosened up, was quiet—too quiet—her eyes heavy with fear she tried to hide.

But Ayàndá felt something else entirely.

His heart wasn’t shaking with fear.

It was vibrating with knowing.

Something was calling him again.

When dawn finally approached, he stepped outside, needing air. The sky was still dark purple, the kind that hides all its secrets at the edge of the horizon. Mist curled around his feet like living fingers.

Ayàndá exhaled sharply.

“What is happening to me?”

No voice answered.

But the forest shifted, as if listening.

Aduké stepped out of her mother’s hut at that moment, her wrapper tied tightly around her chest, hair scattered, face glowing in the half-light.

“You’re not even trying to rest,” she said softly.

Ayàndá turned to her. “How can I? Everything is changing.”

Aduké walked closer, her eyes searching his face the way someone searches the sky for rain.

“Are you… afraid?”

Ayàndá thought for a moment. “No. I’m just… not myself.”

Aduké sighed deeply. “Ayàndá, since we were small, you’ve always been different. This one that wants to burst out of you now… it has been waiting a long time.”

He looked at her sharply. “So you knew?”

She smiled a little. “Everybody knew. Just not what you truly are.”

Ayàndá lowered his gaze—but then the ground trembled.

A low hum rose from the forest floor, vibrating through the air like a drumbeat under the earth. Birds scattered violently from the treetops. The wind reversed direction, dust swirling around Ayàndá’s feet in a circle.

Aduké gasped and jumped back.

“Ayàndá… look!”

The calabash tied to Ayàndá’s waist began to glow—faint at first, then brighter, hotter, until the runes carved into its sides pulsed like living fire.

Ayàndá grabbed it quickly, but the moment his fingers touched it—

CRACK!

A thin line of light split open in front of him.

Aduké screamed and ran behind him as the crack widened, tearing the air apart like fabric. Wind roared around them, drawing leaves, dust, and loose cloth into the widening tear.

Ayàndá’s eyes widened.

He had felt this before.

In visions.

In dreams.

In the strange pull in his blood.

But this—this was real.

The crack opened wider, forming an oval shape floating a few feet above the ground. Light exploded from inside it, gold and deep orange, warm but terrifying. The world around him flickered like flame.

Aduké covered her face.

“Ayàndá, what is that?!”

Ayàndá stepped closer, mesmerized.

The inside was changing—shifting—transforming.

He could see…

Roads.

Lights.

Towering buildings stretching into the sky.

Cars moving like insects.

A city that didn’t belong to this world or this forest.

A city he had never walked in…

…but recognized instantly.

The same city from his vision.

Ayàndá whispered, “Èyí ló jẹ́… the truth.”

A hand grabbed his wrist.

He turned.

Aduké’s eyes were full of tears.

“Don’t go inside that thing. Ayàndá, please.”

He swallowed hard.

“I’m not going inside.”

Aduké exhaled shakily.

“I’m just looking.”

He turned back to the crack.

The city inside flickered, showing different angles—streets lined with tall glass buildings, a mansion with golden gates, people crying, people waiting. Shadows layered over everything, as if time was passing faster inside the crack than in the forest outside.

Ayàndá stepped closer, slowly, carefully.

His heart tightened.

A figure appeared briefly in the city image—blurry, distant, but familiar.

The outline of a woman… crying.

A man kneeling beside her.

The golden gate behind them marked with one word:

GBADEBO

Ayàndá’s breath broke from his chest.

Aduké whispered behind him.

“Ayàndá… are those your people?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “But something inside me… yes. Yes, they are.”

Aduké’s face crumpled.

“What about us? What about here? What about… me?”

Ayàndá turned slowly and held her shoulders gently.

“Aduké… I don’t even know who I truly am yet. But this—whatever this is—it won’t take me away from everything. I just need to understand.”

She looked down. “You promise?”

Ayàndá hesitated, then nodded.

“I promise I will come back.”

Then the crack vibrated loudly again, pulling his attention. The glowing edges expanded outward, shaking the trees violently. The hum turned into a deep rumble that vibrated Ayàndá’s bones.

A voice—faint, distorted—echoed from the portal.

“Ayàndá…”

His entire body froze.

He knew that voice.

That same voice that had followed him all his life, whispering warnings, appearing in dreams, calling him from places he didn’t understand.

But this time…

the voice sounded real.

Alive.

“Àwọn ò ń pẹ̀ mọ́… Ayàndá… They… are… waiting…”

Aduké clutched him tightly.

“Ayàndá! This thing is dangerous!”

But Ayàndá stepped forward despite the wind pulling his hair back and sending dust into his eyes.

“Who are you?” he shouted into the crack.

The voice responded with a low, echoing whisper:

“Yours…”

Ayàndá’s eyes widened.

“My what?”

The crack flickered violently—images shifting rapidly:

A baby wrapped in white cloth.

A woman screaming in a bright hospital room.

A man shouting orders.

Guards running.

Then—

a forest.

Hands passing a baby to someone familiar—

Alábà.

Ayàndá stumbled backward.

Aduké grabbed him. “What did you see?!”

He ran a shaking hand through his hair.

“My beginning… Aduké… I saw my beginning.”

The crack suddenly dimmed, shrinking, like a dying fire. The city blurred. The lights faded. The wind died down.

Aduké took a cautious step forward.

“Is it closing?”

“I think so,” Ayàndá whispered.

The crack narrowed… narrowed… then sealed shut with a soft whoosh—leaving behind silence so heavy it felt like a physical weight.

Aduké exhaled shakily.

“Ayàndá… that thing… it showed you your real life.”

Ayàndá didn’t reply.

He just stared at the spot where the portal once stood.

His entire world… had just shifted.

He turned to Aduké, voice low.

“I need to speak to Alábà. Now. No more secrets.”

Aduké nodded, wiping her face.

“I’ll go with you.”

Ayàndá looked at the forest path ahead, the early sun rising slowly between the trees, painting the world gold again—just like the portal.

But now, Ayàndá understood something he didn’t understand before:

The city wasn’t calling him by accident.

His destiny had two homes.

Two worlds.

And both were waiting