TMT PLUG

‎CHAPTER 5: LIBERATION FROM AGONY
‎In the sacred groves of Igbo-Idan, the laws of the Floating Republic did not apply. Here, the air was thick with ancient resonance. At the center of the clearing stood Igi Iroko-agba, its roots deep in the mystery of the earth. Plugged upside down into the soil, bound to the great tree, was the man.
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‎Ile-Afokoyeri, Mother Earth personified, manifested in the grove. She was clad in traditional Iro and Buba vesture, carrying a beacon that cut through the mystical twilight. She shined the light on the man’s face, tracing the rugged lines of his features with a telekinetic grace.
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‎"He looks so helpless and harmless," she murmured, her voice a soft breeze.
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‎"They all are, mi lady, when inactivated," the Igi-Iroko agba replied, the tree itself vibrating with a sentient bass.
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‎Ile-Afokoyeri sighed, a sound of rustling leaves. "But he’s just a man! Edumare has surprised me. Must I, Ile-Afokoyeri, bow to this man?"
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‎"It’s more of a partnership, mi lady," the tree countered gently. "He is Edumare’s choice."
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‎Accepting the mandate, she smiled softly. "Asiko to—it is time for what is up to come down, and what is down to go up. Ase ni!"
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‎She blew a celestial mist over his body and used a summoned banana leaf to cleanse him, scrubbing away the earth residue from his dreadlocks until he sparkled. As she worked, she felt the latent power within him—the Sovereign Node waiting for the spark.
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‎"Blacksmith," she whispered. "Segun... can you hear me?"
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‎The man’s eyes flickered open, but they were vacant, lost in a sea of agony. "Where am I? Is this a dead man’s dream?"
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‎"Faith is the foundation of truth," she replied.
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‎"I believe," he croaked.
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‎In that instant, lightning fractured the sky and thunder shook the foundations of the grove. Ile-Afokoyeri conjoined her essence to the Blacksmith. The Iroko tree burst into brilliant, white flames—the torch was lit.
‎Gravity surrendered; the surface of the earth turned as they remained suspended in the air. The tree withered into cosmic dust, its purpose fulfilled.
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‎They descended, conjoined, onto the surface of Lake Itura, which transformed into a water bed to receive them. They rolled from the water onto a supple carpet of grass that had sprouted from the ashes of the burning tree.
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‎She lay atop him, her breath warm against his skin. "You did it, Segun. You used your willpower to forge your liberation."
‎But the Blacksmith was silent. No thoughts transmitted from his mind. He was out cold, his consciousness retreating into the deep trance of Tempus Sominus.
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‎"Blacksmith! Blacksmith!!" she called out, panic replacing her triumph. The brightness of the grove darkened, and a thick, unnatural fog rolled in.
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‎The sound of an object slicing through the wind reached her ears. Ile-Afokoyeri flew off the Blacksmith, a spear made of tree bark manifesting in her hands. She turned to face the intruder, her senses on high alert.
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‎Then, she heard it—clapping. Rhythmic, mocking, and echoing through the mist. She paused, the spear dropping from her hands in utter amazement.
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‎"LUSHAAK..." she breathed.


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