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‘Wait for the sign. Be patient, it will come, and when it does, you will know. In the meantime, live amongst them and blend in, that you may remain hidden in plain sight until the time is right, and then you manifest. I know you wonder in your heart what the purpose of this is. Right? You see, humans, they were created for a particular purpose, but I have seen their future. Soon, they will get comfortable and stray from their designed path. They will rebel and deviate from their purpose, they will forget their creators and swear new allegiances and then they will need to be punished for their sins. You will be the thorny whip that chastises the madness from their chests, the heavy chain that drags their stubborn necks back to reason, and the bitter drug that cures them of their delusions. Your time will come, but for now, all you have to do is wait for the sign. Just wait for the sign that will come.’

That was Olori giving me instructions many lifetimes ago.

So it was, that a day became a week, and then the months became decades. Time grew a million legs and ran like one being pursued by Elegbara himself. It developed wings and rode the wind until I couldn’t differentiate one season from another. All that while, I lived amongst the adarihurun like I was instructed, never forgetting my purpose on their soil whilst patiently waiting for what was to come.

The sons of men, however, they behaved just like Olori prophesied. Sin became their food and bloated their bellies. Blood became their water and intoxicated them like wine, and nothing was sacred in their sight any longer. They forgot their duty of worship and neglected their origin, just like Olori had said they would.

Tonight, when the red moon glared in the night sky, I heard Olori’s chanting loud and clear in my head. Her voice was like thunder, and each word struck like a hammer in my consciousness. The heavens had had enough of the debauchery and it was time to initiate the purge. It was time for men to learn the error of their ways and pay heavily for their deliberate waywardness. Finally, it was time to separate the grains and set the residual chaff on fire.

As the world pondered the curiosity of an aberrant moon, no one understood the significance of the crimson eye. No one realized that it was red from shedding tears for their impending doom.
Tonight, a plague was born, and by the time the Sun wakes from his slumber and assumes his fiery throne tomorrow morning, the age of the merciless reaper will have begun.

Tonight, I became.

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