6°48'31.5"N 5°16'23.1"W– Yamoussoukro, Ivory Coast

  22.05.2024- 00:30 UTC +00.00

  6°48'31.5"N 5°16'23.1"W– Yamoussoukro, Ivory Coast

  22.05.2024- 00:30 UTC +00.00

  I guess. I just really hate what I am.

  I looked at the crumpled page, loosely attached to an even more crumpled journal. It was the last thing I had written the night Rox killed Akissi and Guarin. The last thing I wrote, and then I proceeded to a rampage of violence via Sparked Kouadio.

  I had not dared to look at my journal since, but now it felt different. Under the light of a weak lamp, tucked away in an apartment in Dioulakro, surrounded by familiar smells and people. It felt like I had no excuse; I had to face my memories.

  And then there was this nagging feeling of being pulled towards something inexplicable.

  Dear reader. Tomorrow we will ride to Banfora. It is the first time in five years that I am failing a mission. Whatever is hidden inside those pouches, we will discard it. I don’t care about the payment anymore. This is different.

  No one has come chasing us here in Br?lant. They lost us but will find us again, once we go out there. We will be ready.

  Oh yes. Drissa is with me. I can’t leave the boy alone. They know he is useful as well, he was almost captured. I have asked Efua to cleanse him of any lingering hexes, just in case.

  Julien will decide tomorrow, he says.

  It feels like a decade ago. Not a mercenary group anymore. Just a group of runaways.

  I wouldn’t complain if Efua failed to find us a way out already. Her food was the best I had the past week, although a bit on the spicier side for my taste. Her right hand, Kwabena, brought the food to our rooms. Efua did not allow us to sit in the main shop, and I agreed, despite Drissa’s protest. It was too much of a risk to sit in rooms exposed to the main streets via windows, and it was a temporary situation anyway.

  Julien seemed to get it. He had not revealed his story to me yet, and his connection with Drissa remained unclear, but I could tell he was trying to lie low.

  That was what concerned him the most when he approached me after lunch. He knocked on the door, and as he did, I could sense his heart rate increasing from the anxiety.

  “Yes, Julien.”

  He came into the room and closed the door behind him.

  “How is the head?” He asked. While swallowing the last bite of food, I pointed at the bullet on the bed. My body, with the help of Efua’s herbs, had ejected the bullet out during my sleep. Julien nodded.

  “I tried to convince Drissa to stay with me in the Coast,” he said and added, “I failed. He says there is no chance he can let you go alone. Why are you dragging him into this?”

  “He is already dragged into this,” I said, pointing to the pouches lying by my backpack, “you explained to me, my Curse is the key to those. What happens when they learn he carries the same Curse?”

  “It has not manifested.”

  “Yet. And anyway, I am not dragging him for long. Once we get to Banfora and destroy those things, he can come back to you here.”

  Julien stood, his jaw clenching and unclenching nervously.

  “Tsk. I am coming with,” he said eventually.

  I nodded. “Thank you. Your ward will be of help.”

  “Don’t thank me. I am coming to make sure you don’t turn Drissa, into whatever this is,” he said, his voice cold and determined, gesturing at me. “When this is over, I bring him back to his family, and you go back to Liberia or Sierra Leone or wherever the fuck you are supposed to stay.”

  He did not wait for my response. He exited the room before I could even say anything.

  But that was alright. I did not want to say anything; there wasn’t much I could, or he could do to prevent Drissa’s fate. I appreciated there was a Cursed who cared for him in Yamoussoukro. Perhaps after this, I could indeed go back home for a short break.

  THE TRAIN FOR OUAGADOUGOU DEPARTS SOON. PLEASE ENTER THE TRAIN AND EVACUATE THE PLATFORMS.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  The announcement echoed in French across the train station of Assabou. Julien, Drissa, and I found a table in one of the wagons at the center of the train. It wasn’t too difficult: the evening train was half-full of people, as most preferred to travel with the morning itinerary. The evening one took longer between its stops, and I would also have preferred the morning express one.

  Efua wanted us out of her shop as soon as possible, however, and I did not dare challenge that. She had offered much more than just hospitality.

  “Do not touch it,” I said calmly to Drissa, who curiously looked at the impala lily flower on his vest’s sleeve. A pink short lily flower, found everywhere in Ghana. I guessed it was not as easy to find here, but Efua had her ways to stay connected with her homeland. These were Efua’s gifts for the three of us. We each had one on our suit, tucked onto our vest and enchanted by her. Each one carried five pink petals, lined with white unique prints.

  As long as we wore those, Cursed could not see us, hear us, recognize us, or hear our names. It was the best kind of protection for this trip.

  “It matches my rings,” Drissa said, showing the similar color of one of his earrings. “I am a proper Ghanan princess.”

  Julien smirked. He was wearing the kento clothes provided by Kwabena, just as Drissa did, but they did not quite fit his muscular build. If anything, they accentuated it. I was wearing the clothes provided by Efua: a loose dress under which I hid my military vest and gun.

  The train shook as the doors closed. Drissa looked out the window, his leg shaking while his eyes wandered across the platform.

  “Have you never been on the Akwantufo?” I asked as I noticed his excitement.

  “I, no… never had the money for such a thing,” he responded, “or the reason.”

  “Don’t worry kid. We will be back here in no time,” Julien said.

  NEXT STATION BOUAKé

  The voice announced as the train started to move. Its audio was old, you could even sense it in the woman’s voice and French accent.

  But then again, the whole train was from another century. The interior was wooden with the seats being finished with cheap, worn-out leather. The tables were detailed with black varnishing, something that might have looked luxurious at the advent of the twentieth century. The ceiling had simplistic carvings, with sharp and wide angles, enveloping symbols designed to look like Adinkra symbols – but not quite.

  Drissa looked outside mesmerized, Julien as well. I traced their gaze, trying to imagine what part of the Yamoussoukro skyline they were focusing on.

  I always looked at the sunset when I took the northbound train, always wondering if I would return to these parts and see how the sun disappeared past Marahoué. Not tonight. We were sitting next to east-facing windows. And I had to believe this thing would end soon, and I would go back home, perhaps making a stop to Yamoussoukro first.

  “That would be nice,” I said, seemingly answering Julien’s comment. Julien looked at me, his smile appearing cold. No clarifications were needed – the guy did not like my presence. But he was willing to tolerate it, for Drissa’s sake.

  The train shook once more, and the carvings on the floor emanated a light-blue hue. Drissa’s eyes widened with excitement as he looked at the ceiling, although no one else paid attention.

  “Are these…?” Drissa asked.

  “Yes. Powered by Cursed Engineering,” Julien answered. “For centuries, this was the best they could do. Sigils to pass through the wilderness without the need for elaborate machines. It was a bit more than a hundred years ago that it was combined with modern infrastructure.”

  I looked at Julien. Had he studied that stuff, or could he retain knowledge from every knowledge ward he had ever made? This possibility had not crossed my mind before - the possibility that he still knew whatever he learned about me during my stay in his ward yesterday.

  In less than half an hour we had reached Bouaké, and in another ten minutes, more people had boarded the trip to the North.

  NEXT STATION KONIéRé

  The female voice announced. Drissa’s excitement was already fading, as more and more people boarded and found a seat in our wagon.

  “So how long until the next stop?”

  “It is at least an hour until Koniéré. And then we need around three hours to get to Banfora,” I explained, “the impala enchantments should hold just enough.”

  “I am going to grab some magazines, I guess,” Julien said as he turned to Drissa.

  “Or! Maybe you could turn your phone on for a moment,” Drissa asked Julien, but I cast the scarier look I could. Drissa leaned in forward. “You already removed your SIM cards. Not much they can do to trace us!”

  “They can do all sorts of things,” I said, “grab a crossword if you are bored. This is not supposed to be a fun trip.”

  Drissa sighed as the train's engines revved up. The symbols on the ceiling lit up once again, signifying the start of the second leg of the journey.

  “I will bring some for you as well,” Julien said and stood up.

  I searched for my notebook in my backpack. It was in a terrible condition, but I knew I had some useful notes about Banfora somewhere in there. Deciding on the details of our next steps would be essential.

  Drissa sighed once more, bringing me pause. I left the notebook on my legs.

  “So. How do you know Julien exactly?” I asked.

  “What do you care?”

  I processed his defensiveness.

  “Drissa. Has he ever bothered you?” I asked calmly.

  “No, damn you are worse than my mother. He is just like… a big brother. He helped me when I needed someone,” he said, but his blushing was unmistakable. “Plus, he is not even twenty yet. What is your point?”

  That was new. I had somehow overestimated Julien’s age – his build made me assume he was older, and his mastery over such a complex Curse alluded to years of training. And he also fought too well with a dagger to be a fresh adult.

  “Still,” I insisted, “get your shit together.”

  Julien appeared out of the crowded wagon, smacking two magazines on the table, and one pen.

  “One of us gets to solve crosswords, you want the pen?” Julien asked. Drissa nodded negatively and then looked outside the window. “What’s up with him?” Julien turned to me.

  “I don’t know. Late puberty,” I answered coldly. Enough time was lost. It was time to study.