Just as we settled into our seats, refreshments were handed out, chilled bottles of orange juice paired with warm, baked bread sealed in neat, eco-friendly wraps. These people weren't here to play. Every detail had been carefully planned. The bread was soft and rich, and the juice had just the right tang to jolt the senses awake. It made the waiting easier… even enjoyable.
Somewhere around us, soft music began to play.
It was hard to pinpoint where it came from. At times it felt like it rose from the ground beneath our feet, other times from the tables, or maybe even the walls of the facility itself. The sound seemed to shift with my thoughts. Wherever I imagined it came from, that's where it felt like it was. I let out a small chuckle. Impressive.
We hadn't finished our snacks for long before the crowd stirred.
From the tall entrance doors of the main building, Chief Asuquo emerged, flanked by two of his guards. He walked with authority but wore his usual warm smile as he stepped in front of the crowd and raised his hand for silence.
"Welcome," he said, his voice strong but steady. "Welcome to what I believe will be remembered as a historic turning point for not only Ediba—but our world."
Murmurs of agreement rose. People leaned forward. He continued.
"This dream, this vision you see before you… could not have come to life without the brilliance, determination, and courage of one man, my friend, Jimoh Lawal."
Thunderous applause erupted across the gathering. People stood, clapping with enthusiasm. I stood with them, obliged, curious, and observant.
And then he appeared.
Jimoh Lawal stepped through the doors with a tall, silent figure by his side, his guard, or perhaps his personal aide. They both carried themselves with a kind of quiet dominance, the sort that required no loud gestures or flashy entrance.Their matching attires were elegant yet simple: long-sleeved traditional shirts and trousers, tailored with intricate designs across the chest and sleeves—most notably, faint crescent moon symbols embroidered in silver thread. Their black shoes gleamed in the daylight, and round traditional caps completed the look.
Jimoh clasped his hands together and bowed slightly in gratitude as the cheers washed over him. With a polite motion, he signaled for us to take our seats.
Now that I could see him up close, I understood why Chief Asuquo admired him. Jimoh had that air of refined charm and leadership. But it was the man beside him who caught my attention. His face was… unforgettable. One eye was completely white, blind, perhaps, while the other bore a vertical scar running just past the brow. His jaw was stone, his frame solid and still. If fallen creatures had sense, they'd think twice before crossing this man.
Where did Jimoh find someone like that?
Jimoh Lawal stepped forward and began.
"Thank you all for coming," he said, his voice smooth and measured. "My name is Jimoh Lawal. I was born in the West… but I came to Ediba many years ago, seeking something better. A place I could build. A people I could believe in."
His eyes swept across the gathering as he spoke.
"When I arrived here, I knew immediately, this was the village I'd been searching for. So full of nature's blessing. The greenery. The clean air. The river. It was perfect. It is perfect. And thanks to Chief Asuquo's belief in the dream, Sekara became possible."
He paused, glancing toward the chief with a respectful nod.
"But Sekara is not just a structure. Not a medical facility. Not a mere compound of bricks and life. Sekara… is a movement. A revolution. A change."
His words hung in the air like a spark waiting to catch fire.
"For centuries, the Divines have protected us. Kept our villages safe. And they've done a tremendous job. Alongside the Madarikans, they've shielded us from the growing terror of the Fallens."
The crowd nodded. Many murmured their agreement.
"But as Fallen attacks increase and corruption spreads, not just in people, but in food, in water, in soil. What happens then? The Divines can only do so much. The Madarikans can only be in so many places."
He looked around again, meeting eyes, drawing us in.
"Ediba may be free of Fallen attacks now… but other places suffer. And not just from creatures. They suffer from sickness. From rot. From hopelessness."
He smiled gently.
"And that is why Sekara exists. Not to replace the Divines. But to share in their burden. To stand beside them. To create a world that isn't just safe… but sustainable. Where healing is not a miracle, but a right. Where peace is not a rare season, but a constant. And to top it off, it's completely free for those without the financial support to receive treatment—because that's the case for many villages and villagers today. People who have no one. Not the Divines. Not the Madarikans. Sekara exists to fill that gap."
His voice swelled slightly.
"This facility is just the beginning. A step. One of many we must take together."
Jimoh then bowed his head slightly, his hands over his heart.
"I thank you all for believing in Sekara. I thank Chief Asuquo. I thank the King, the Royal Council, and the Taris, for giving us the chance to show what's possible."
A moment of stillness passed.
And then the applause came.
Loud. Echoing across the compound. Cheers rose like waves crashing against the walls. People stood again, clapping with genuine admiration.
And I…I clapped too.
But my thoughts wandered.
Because all this? Felt too perfect.