Ọ̀pẹ̀ òyìnbó fi dídùn ṣe ẹwà, ṣùgbọ́n, ewu tó wà lára rẹ̀ lé ni irínwó. /

The pineapple is quite sweet, but it is replete with dangers(thorns).

After seeing the real thing, the statue was, for want of a better word, underwhelming. Whoever made the statue had gotten Sango's muscular body right, to the point. It almost made Odion uncomfortable. Here was Sango depicted in a warrior's stance with his hammer ready to strike. The only thing wrong was his facial expression, it made him seem brutish and feral but Odion knew better: Sango was as smart as any being under the sun. It was a statue that seemed to be made of copper or an alloy of some kind. It reflected the sun in such a way that it almost glowed.

Another shriek came and this time Odion fell to his knees, he didn't know how he could take this for much longer. It was a guttural scream that seemed to encompass every evil and disgusting thing that had ever existed. It wrenched him from the inside and threatened to break his very will.

Stand.

With his hands covering his ears, he looked around in suspicion, where had that come from?

Stand.

That voice again, ever since Sango left, he had started hearing it, it sounded like Sango but there was something off about it, something he couldn't quite put a finger on. And yet, whenever he heard the voice, it reinvigorated him, made him stronger and more resilient. Things that he was going to need if he was going to stand a chance with whatever or whoever was making that sound.

With some effort, he stood from his knees and began to walk slowly in the direction of the figure sitting on the pedestal of Sango's statue. The more he walked, the more he noticed. The whole circle was empty, it almost looked evacuated. Nobody could've endured this sound, Odion reasoned.

As he got closer, he realised the figure was actually a woman. She was dressed from head to toe in all black with a scarf to cover her head. He was about five paces away from her when he realised the wailing didn't get to him anymore so he dropped his hands from his ears. There was also something else he noticed, it was about the woman.

She had no eyes.

Odion almost threw up as he looked more closely at her face. It was completely wrinkly like she was more than a hundred years old. Her face was so contorted by the wailing that it was like it was locked in a permanent scream. Her feet were covered by her gown so Odion looked at her hands instead. They too were wrinkly and greyish but her nails were longer than a normal human's. They almost resembled claws.

"Stop shouting." Odion screamed over the noise. She continued wailing, she probably couldn't even hear him over the sound she was making. Odion stepped forward and drew his dagger in one swift movement—he was getting better at using it—and placed the blade at the edge of the woman's neck.

"Stop." He said, in a voice that was so cold and stern that even he was a bit scared of himself. Unsurprisingly, she stopped but she didn't face Odion, she just sat there and looked forward, ignoring him.

"Uhm, my name is—," he began.

The woman turned her neck slowly in a rigid kind of way and looked up at Odion. Now that he was near her, he could see that where her eyes were supposed to be, her wrinkly skin just covered it up. There were depressions were her eyes should have been but nothing else. She licked her lips a little before she spoke and Odion saw all her seven teeth, her tongue a pale grey piece of flesh.

"I know who you are," she said in a raspy voice. Odion almost wished for her crying back. It sounded like she'd been forced to swallow glass shards and this was the awful result. "But what I do not know is why you are disturbing me."

"I need information," he replied in a shaky voice. "I want to know where the tools of creation are, and how to use them."

The woman was silent for a while. Then she spoke, "I am an Ori, a spirit of pain, anguish and sadness. I have walked this world for millennia, far before your ancestors learned to crawl. Why should I tell you anything?"

Odion pressed the dagger closer to her throat, he knew he couldn't do it but he hoped she didn't know that. "If you want to continue living for another millennium, you should probably tell me all I want to know."

"Hmm, want to know or need to know?"

"What? What's the difference?" Odion said.

"Where did you get that dagger, boy?" the Ori asked him.

Odion gritted his teeth, he hated when he was called boy. But he also knew that right then, she was the only one that could give him the information on the tools. "Sango gave it to me."

She gave a small chuckle, a sound not unlike a dozen chainsaws being pulled at once. "He did? Hmm. You know, I may be blind, but I see a lot more than you, apparently."

"Just tell me what I want to know already, what is with you supernatural people and speaking in riddles?"

"Your name is Odion, yes?" she said in a quiet tone. Asking a question she already knew the answer to.

"Yes."

"It is strange, no?" the Ori said thoughtfully. "Your parents, both Igbo and Yoruba gave you a Benin name. Do you even know what it means?"

Odion had no idea of where she was going with any if this, so he decided to just play along. "Yeah, it means 'the older of a twin.'" He faintly remembered asking his mother why he was given the name but he didn't even have any siblings. He didn't remember what happened to lead up to the conversation but he remembered what his mum had said. Her voice a faint whisper, filled with so much raw pain, Odion could feel it. "You don't, don't you?"

"Well," the Ori said, interrupting his reverie. "I'm sure I've given you a lot to think about. I'll tell you where one of the tools is, but do not think I am doing you a favour. I feed on pain and sadness, your plan will bring all these and more. It will nourish me and my sisters so by all means, go on this foolish quest."

Great, when a spirit of pain and the god of evil personally endorsed your plan, you knew you were in a busload of trouble.