Ayuba was tired. His breath came in short, desperate gasps as he pedaled faster, sweat matting his shirt to his back. His delivery van had broken down two hours outside Niamey, and in a fit of stubbornness, he'd decided to rent a motorbike and continue the pharmaceutical drop on his own.
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He should have turned back the moment the road began to shift.
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It was subtle at first. Trees that weren't in his GPS logs. A hill that should’ve sloped downward now climbing into the horizon. Then came the silence.
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Africa is never truly quiet. There are always birds, insects, a distant motor, a far-off cry. But here… here was a vacuum.
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He stopped the bike, engine humming in the unnatural stillness.
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The dirt path stretched before him in two perfect lines, yet he couldn’t remember turning onto it. He frowned, pulling out his phone.
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"No signal."
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The GPS map stuttered, then rebooted. His blue dot floated off any recognizable road. It simply… hovered.
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He turned around. The path behind him was gone.
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Only trees.
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He blinked. Tried to walk backward. Nothing. No track marks. No tire grooves.
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Fear began to claw at his spine.
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From the left, a sound. Tick. Tick. Tick. Like metal tapping bone.
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"Hello?" he called out.
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No response.
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"Is anyone there?"
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A voice answered, but not with words. It was a groan. Deep. Guttural. Close.
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He backed up, only to bump into something. A man. No… a boy? The figure was short, thin, naked except for a necklace of feathers and teeth.
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His skin was blue-black, and his eyes…
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Ayuba recoiled. They were hollow.
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The child smiled. His teeth were filed to points.
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Then he turned and walked silently into the bush.
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Ayuba hesitated only a moment before following. He didn't know why. Maybe because logic no longer held sway here. Maybe because some ancient part of him recognized this place. Or maybe because something in that child’s hollow gaze whispered, If you don’t follow, you die.
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The trees parted ahead.
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And there it was.
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Korobanti.
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Wooden huts arranged in spirals. People moving slowly, too slowly, like dancers in a dream. No one looked up. No one spoke. Smoke rose from fires that gave no heat. Chickens pecked at red soil that looked too much like dried blood.
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A woman sat beneath a twisted tree, weaving thread from what looked like hair.
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Ayuba stepped forward—and everyone turned to him at once.
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Dozens of eyes.
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Black. Hollow. Empty.
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Then, in eerie unison, they smiled.
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Welcome to Korobanti.
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and then Add to home screen.