The day had finally come. The official launch of Sekara.
The entire village buzzed with anticipation. The streets was packed with people, locals dressed in their finest wrappers and tunics, and others from neighboring villages who had traveled simply to witness this moment. I hadn't expected this much support for the institution. And yet… here they were.
Men, women, elders, children, all moving as one body, drawn by the same curiosity or hope or both.
We were rallied together in clusters and guided down the path leading to the facility itself. The crowd moved in a steady, humming wave. As we approached the gates, I noticed something that made my steps slow.
Those patrols I'd seen the previous night? They weren't Madarikans. They were Sekara's own security units.
Their uniforms were striking, ash-grey fabric stitched with deep black linings that ran across the chest and arms in elegant curves. But it was the left shoulder that stood out the most: a bronze insignia shaped like an open eye. Their posture was rigid, trained, professional. And yet, something about them unsettled me.
Their sleeves bulged subtly around the wrists, thicker than they needed to be. Were they hiding something beneath? A weapon? A craft? I couldn't say for sure, but it was clear these weren't ordinary guards.
Two of them stood at the front gate, unmoving.
And the gate itself? Massive. Dark metal, finely polished, with symbols etched into its surface, none that I recognized. The walls surrounding the facility towered over us, smooth and imposing, built to keep more than just wind and dust out.
This place… rivaled the size of a Divine House. I could only imagine how many dais had gone into building it.
At the entrance, each of us was stopped and searched, lightly but thoroughly. Then we were issued small tags with silver rims and soft red lights that blinked with each step we took. After that, we were guided inside, single file, the security officers making sure everything moved cleanly and without disorder.
And then I saw it.
The inside of the compound stretched out before us like a secret garden housed within walls. It was magnificent.
Pockets of greenery wove through the compound, lush grass, short trees with spiral-like leaves, vines climbing up ash-colored buildings. Three massive buildings stood ahead, each cut from the same polished stone, all curved edges and wide windows. The largest sat at the front, like a king among soldiers, and it was toward that one we were being led.
In front of the main building was a vast open courtyard, meticulously arranged with white plastic chairs and clothed wooden tables. It was clear no detail had been overlooked. There was an elegance to the symmetry of it all.
Then my eyes were drawn to something else, two statues flanking the building's front steps.
Each one stood over ten feet tall, crafted from a smooth black-and-white material that glinted under the sun. The creatures were like birds, but not any bird I'd ever seen. Their wings were jagged, almost blade-like in shape, and their sleek bodies stood supported by six insect-like legs. A long, needle-like beak jutted out from each of their heads.
I stared at them, wondering, what did they mean? What did a creature like that have to do with medicine or healing? Was it merely art? A symbol? Or something deeper?
The further I looked, the more guards I noticed. They patrolled the edges of the courtyard, stood silently in corners, even positioned themselves near the building's high windows. All in the same uniform. All watching.
I couldn't help but question: why did a medical institution need this much security?
And if these weren't Madarikans or Divine-appointed protectors, how would they hold up in the face of a real Fallen threat?
The guards at the front gestured calmly for us to take our seats.
"We ask that you remain patient," one of them said, his tone emotionless. "Our leader will be arriving shortly."
And so we sat. Quietly. Waiting for the one man we had all come to see.
Jimoh Lawal.