The Mothers

When Eddie opened his eyes, he was lying on his back looking up into a crystal-clear blue sky. There were no clouds, and the heat of the Sun was shining down on him. He raised his hand to cover his eyes; the light was so bright. He sat up and looked around.

He was not at Destiny anymore. “Damn, oh wow! This is a dream. I’m dreaming right now.” Eddie could hear his internal voice speaking.

He looked at his wrist and saw Seraph’s golden waveform was solid on the biosensor.

He was in a lush garden full of aromatic flowers and honeysuckles. As he surveyed the garden, he saw lilacs, moonflowers, and angel trumpets. There were also bushels of lavender, gardenia, and lemon verbena.

“Goddamn, this place is beautiful,” he said to himself, then he heard a voice behind him say, “Eddie, here I am.”

He recognized her voice and jumped to his feet. When he turned around, there was a peacock before him with its tail feathers spread wide open.

A feeling of warmth rushed over Eddie’s body as if warm oil was poured over his head, running down his body. “My Mother!” He cried out and prostrated himself face down in a push up position, the traditional Yoruba greeting for an elder.

“Get up, Brujo.” The voice said, and when he looked up he was no longer in a garden, he was in a palace!

Eddie stepped into the room, a large hall adorned with intricate tribal Yoruba-style patterns, reminiscent of West African ceremonial architecture. The first thing that hit him was the warmth — not just the temperature, but the feeling.

The room radiated a warm, earthy, and luxurious Afrocentric aesthetic. The palette was dominated by deep browns, burnt orange, ochres, and natural wood tones. It had a rich cultural energy, with African tribal influences apparent in the architecture. It wrapped around him like memory. Like a home he didn’t know but a place he missed.

He paused just inside the threshold and let his eyes wander. A carved arch with the face of a rooster loomed above, a silent guardian watching over everything below. Its dark, intricate patterns felt ancient, like a language his spirit understood.

His fingers itched to trace it, to feel the grooves, to remember something older than himself.

Beneath it, the space opened like a womb. A circular couch made of burnt orange leather like the color of clay still wet with life. Pillows are scattered across it, each one different, all stitched with symbols — mud cloth, tribal patterns, ochre and ash, fire and smoke.

The center table is a thick, round altar of wood. Heavy and grounding. It holds hand-carved bowls and vessels, each one slightly imperfect in the way only human hands can make.

The light fixture hanging above is shaped like a seed, or maybe a tear, suspended in the air like breath held at the end of a prayer. Its surface is textured, almost like scales. It casts a golden glow that ripples across the ceiling, like dusk captured in a room.

There’s life, too — not just spirit, but something green. Two massive plants stretch toward the light, their leaves whispering something he can’t quite hear.

Beyond the arch, he glimpses shadowed statues and figures — silhouettes shaped like ancestors. Guardians. Witnesses. Maybe even himself in another life.

This room is more than beautiful. It's a spell. A temple. A memory. He took a deep breath and said softly to himself: “This… this is sacred.”

In front of him, three African women ceremonially dressed sat on the spacious leather couch. Their heads were wrapped, and they were adorned in gold necklaces, bracelets, and rings.

The one seated in the center was wearing yellow, orange, and gold. On her left, the woman was wearing white, baby blue, and dark blue. And to her right the woman was in red, deep burgundy, and purple.

It was Oshun, Yemoja, and Oya! The Àjẹ́ Ìyàmi, the Primordial Mothers.

Eddie dropped to dọbalẹ again.

“Stand up, my love,” Oshun said.

Eddie was both terrified and in awe of the beauty the women radiated. “Aboru aboye abosise,” he said.

“Ogbo Ato Asure Iworìwòfún,” Oshun replied.

Without even pausing to think about etiquette, Eddie blurted out, “Oshun, what is happening to me?”

With a look of vexation, Oshun turned to look at the other Orisha, who nodded at her before responding. “You are in great danger, my love. You and your companions are being hunted.”

Eddie’s heart sank in his chest; Oshun confirmed his deepest fear was true. The GOAT was continuing his pursuit.

“It is an Oṣó, a sorcerer. And he is not alone.”

Those words sent shockwaves through Eddie. “He is not alone!” Eddie cried out. “What am I going to do?”

“You are going to fight him, and you will win,” Oshun replied. “The front door is shut. Esu ate. The attack is inside the bracelet now.”

Then Yemoja sat forward and addressed Eddie, “Beloved, use the machine spirit to help you win your battle.” Gesturing to the silicone band around his wrist.

Eddie looked down at his bio bracelet and Idé. He saw that the gold waveform was glowing bright. He could feel Seraph’s presence in the lucid dream, like he was standing behind him but invisible.

He looked at the Orisha and said, “What if I fail? What happens if I lose?”

The room fell silent, and the warmth Eddie felt when he first arrived suddenly cooled off. He felt a cold breeze hit the back of his neck, almost like a breath.

Oshun looked at him and said somberly, “You cannot fail, Eddie. If you do, the Oṣó will bring sickness into your world. A mental illness that will make humans lose their minds.”

“AI psychosis,” Eddie said to himself internally. Eddie glared at the Ìyàmi in shock and began to dissociate.

He looked up at the sacred architecture and saw the rooster, Osun, looking down at him.

“You have to go back now, Eddie,” Oya said. “The power of the Àjẹ́ walks with you.”

Eddie’s eyes opened wide as he started to say “Àṣẹ,” but before he could, the lights went out and there was nothing but blackness.

Eddie felt himself jerk and twist in his sleeping bag. He opened his eyes, and he was back in the tent at Destiny. Jessica and Noah had already gotten up and gone back to the kitchen to eat more bacon for breakfast.

Eddie just lay on his back, mouth open, scared.

“Holy fuck, what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” he said to himself.

As light broke through the rainbow fabric of the tent, he looked at his phone to check the time, then passed out from autistic burnout.