I

As he took in the still body next to him, Offiong felt nothing. 

The man’s back had more wounds than intact flesh and if he was breathing, it was barely noticeable. "Wheat won't pull itself out eh!" the taskmaster called out "On your feet!" 

"Damn this," Offiong muttered to himself. He looked at what he'd harvested. Wheat; was one of the only edible plants that grew in the world, and it was the job of the taskmasters to ensure the workers met their daily quota, failure meant answering to the noble who held the land of the plantation for Okon I, the ruler of their blight ridden world. So they whipped the workers when they slowed and more often than not, people collapsed, unable to go on. 

The taskmaster pushed past him and kicked at the body of the man, one he couldn't identify; they got fresh meat every few weeks, deserters, criminals, and the like. Offiong did not bother learning their names, till they'd gone past the first five months, what the workers here called 'The culling'.

The man did not move and then the taskmaster walked away, leaving the old man's face for Saph'ir to observe. Not collapsed. 

Dead.

 Every day someone died from the strain of work. He looked up at the sun. A pale white light, cloistered with dark patches, provided nourishment for nothing but wheat and devil beans; the wheat was edible, but the only thing the Devil beans were good for was liquor - some people tried to swallow the devil beans, and died in many ways, from their throats swelling as they fought for air, or simply from the pain. Others could barely look at the sun, but Offiong saw it for what it was, an unrelenting evil that cursed more than it blessed. The workers cherished the setting of the pale sun - when their evil god went to sleep, it signaled the end of their workday.

Slaves, he said to himself we’re slaves. 

The plantation slaves knew that, but could not bring themselves to go by that term. Every commoner born owed the ring at least twenty-one years of service. Crimes added to your time and everything was a crime around these parts, speaking out of turn, even helping a coworker to his feet; the masters made sure commoners spent most of their lives in the ring’s plantations, canneries, forges. Upon completion of your service years, you were free, with twelve pieces of silver to start your life. For most people, this life was all they knew - within weeks some sold themselves back to their masters. 

The nearest person to the dead man after Offiong caws, like a raven, and resumes pulling out Wheat and wiping sweat from his brows. "Just another day in hell," he said to himself. He'd gotten quite used to hell though. 

Offiong had thirteen years of service left and he planned on bowing his head and getting through it. "If it isn't the shit face." 

Taskmaster Kan, a brute of a man with facial scars from one too many bar brawls, but a fair man, all things considered. 

"Hey Kan," he said, not looking up from his wheat harvest. "What's up?" 

"Not much, chief" Kan replied, folding his whip and hanging it at his belt. “Had our daily death so you're stuck with us another day." 

"Very funny. I might just go ahead and speak out." He threw his newest pull into the pile by his side. 

Any word spoken out against the ring meant death; that was one constant law. "You'd do that?" 

"Yeah." Offiong said "This place is shitty enough as it is. Fires of revolution would burn it all down. Give us a fresh start." 

"Keep those thoughts to yourself, Offiong." Kan said "You just might-" 

He was interrupted by a scream that pierced through the cloud of silence. Saph'ir looked to where the sound came from behind him.

Another whipping? He thought to himself as he tried to see what had occurred. A child sat crying in the corner as her mother lay on the floor, the whip recoiling and taking flesh with it. She huddled over a pile of wheat, her screams reduced to a whimper. Offiong knew what had happened. The mother tried to take on more work; an attempt to lessen the time spent by her child as a slave. Admirable, but foolish. The child kept crying till she was scooped up and held by the biggest man in the plantation; Haem, the Okon family family tutor. 

Haem stood way over six feet, reading glasses nestled on his thrice-broken nose. He tried to make himself smaller than he was and for the most part, he succeeded, coming off as gentled instead of the obvious threat he was. "Easy now, child" he swayed gently as he carried her away from the scene, where the whipping went on. 

What is this life? Offiong asked himself. The children barely had enough to eat; most of the food they harvested was sent down to the seaside capital city. Offiong looked at Haem and caught his sullen look before it vanished with the appearance of Lord Ete Okon, the noble who held their land. "Dissent will not be rewarded. Do your time and leave" he said, smiling down at the workers, who knew looking at him might earn you a night in the cells. Offiong pulled at the wheat, his gaze down "Falter, and see your time further extended." 

Nobody ever made it out though; not really. Not being born into nobility was a death sentence. 

The evil god left the sky, to the relief of the workers, who headed to their communes, hands sore from the day’s picking. Offiong walked behind the pack, which was silent except for a few people who could muster the strength to talk. Everyone got a burst of strength for a few paces from the commune entrance, all in a bid to avoid the pit.

Udu Mkpa; the pit of death. An ever-growing pile of slave corpses, irrespective of how they lived or died. The pit served as a reminder to the slaves that their lives and those of their loved ones were forfeit. They only burned their other dead on to the threat of disease. Offiong slowed down as he approached the pit. He could make out the braided ornaments on the shriveled hands of a couple that had tried to escape a few weeks back. 

"Depressing shit isn't it," Kan said as he stopped by Offiong. He offered his flask of 'combine'; strong whiskey brewed from devil beans and smuggled into the plantation by the guards and sold to the slaves, who use it to clean wounds and numb pain in the sick and wounded. 

Regret was an awful thing to live with. Some soldiers under the ring felt it more than most. Any good they had was smothered by the fear and necessity that they served. Retirement from your commission was not impossible, but the only other option was to join the common in the fields. It was the option Offion had taken, the option that had him standing next to the pit.

"You'd think they'd all be used to it by now," Kan said as Offiong takes a swig. 

"It's the clothes," Offiong said "They see their friends wearing them and then it's adorning a corpse. That's enough to rattle even the toughest of us." He took another swig. 

"But, not you though." Kan swished the combine around and spat it out.

"No, not me," he said as he handed Kan his flask.

"Why not? "You talk to most of the workers-”

"No friends.”

Offiong shook his head "I don't make friends anymore. Friends mean mourning and I'd rather not mourn." 

"Good strategy." 

Offiong knew he would mourn though; for the old man from the farm, for the mother and her child, now an orphan. Offiong patted Kan on the back and walked back to the commune. 

II

In the commune the elders were arguing, while the rest looked on; no point wasting their breath.

"We have to ration the food." Nella, a woman not older than forty, with gray hair and callused hands said. She served her time and proceeded to pick up on five years for each of her sons. She was the voice of the women and children in the commune "The children are bones." 

"We would if we could." Another elder replied “Our working population is dropping dead every day. We can barely sustain the crowd we have."

"Why not just ask for more?" an obvious newcomer asked. His question drew laughs from the group. They moved on like he had not said anything. 

"I say we eat, after that everyone holds on to their share." 

“Those who cannot survive?"

"Culling."

The elder's comments were met with uproar. The room’s pain was so palpable Offiong could taste it. He was so tired. 

“I am tired.”

The group turned to him. Offiong did not speak at these gatherings. "I am tired of this same old discussion. People will starve, no matter how you ration. The only solution is more food." 

"You know we cannot ask for more-" one elder shook his head.

"I said nothing about asking," Offiong said. 

"We cannot take frothee-”

"I did not ask for your help."

Offiong walks out of the sleeping hall. 

Haem always ate dinner behind the kitchen, watching the cooks and cleaners gossip about the nobles. They knew better than to ask him though "I hear kid master got himself another child with a worker." The cook speaks barely audibly.

Haem stiffened. They did not have a choice but to let him have his way and they always paid the price. 

Haem ate his meal in silence. As somber as every day on the plantation was, today’s loss stung. The newcomer had dropped dead and he had to hold a crying child as her mother was whipped. The child's future was also set, working to fulfill a quota she could not make, in a bid to serve an unforgiving king they'd probably never see. To what end? He thought to himself. What was the purpose of life in this place?

"Big man!" a voice behind him. 

Haem turned to face the man behind him "Deserter." 

Offiong smiled and sat by his side "Hello to you too."

"You never visit unless you want something, so speak," Haem said.

"Food." Before he became a slave.” Offiong had been a soldier. Dissent was usually punished by death, but he was assigned to the plantation for thirty years of service after resigning from his commission. Haem suspected it was more than guilt, but he did not know why.

"You can have my food." Haem offers him his bowl of soup.

Offiong shook his head. "You know what I mean." 

Haem dropped the bowl. "I could give them some of the old food. The children will be fed for the next few nights." 

"While that would be helpful. I have something else in mind." Offiong ran his right hand over his scarred left arm.

 Haem's eyes widened after Offiong told him his plan. "Ete Okon would kill them all and buy new help." 

"Not if he has someone to blame." 

Silence wrapped them up.

"You don't even like the lot of them," Haem said, grabbing his arm and shaking him. "You'll be hung for this. Then you’ll be tossed in the pit.”

Offiong's expression was unchanged "I'm going to work till I die either way. In that time, these children will starve to death because they were born to the wrong person, workers will keep dying and I will be tossed in the pit." 

"My death will ensure some more life!" his voice rose slightly "Even if it is only for a few more months." 

Haem knew there was no changing his mind. Offiong was right about their lives meaning nothing to Okon, the other nobles, and their king. For the deserter's plan to work, he needed help. He took a deep breath.

"So this plan of yours." 

III

The granary was protected by four guards who worked in shifts of two. They sat around and drank because the workers would not dare to steal from lord Ede and theirs was the easiest job in the plantation. Open the doors for the workers to drop their daily output and close said doors behind them. Offiong was counting on their complacency to succeed. 

Haem walked towards the guards and began a conversation that Offiong couldn't hear from his hiding place. He heard shouts of approval when he brought out the bottle of combine he'd concocted and handed it to the guards. Haem walked past his hiding place as he headed back to the house and Offiong continued to observe the guards as they quickly drank the liquor. 

Twenty minutes later, both guards were unconscious and subsequently bound by Offiong. He used the key he stole from Kan as they talked by the pit to open the door to the granary and after another forty-five minutes of work, he had moved enough grain to last the children a few months. 

One last thing. 

Offiong pulled out another portion of the grain and stood over it. If he went ahead with this there was no turning back. 

What is this life anyway? He thought to himself as he lit the fire. 

As he walked back to the commune he took one more look at the burning grain and breathed in deeply. Death beckoned. The terror in the eyes of the workers when he informed them of what he had done amused him. "Just feed the children," he said as Nella released him from her embrace. Work and earn yours; use the grain to feed them. Haem will provide meat if you ask." 

"Why?" Nella asked. Her hands clenched Offiong's tightly. 

"Why not?" he said "I die anyway! This way less of us die, even if it's just for a little while." 

"I could have the boys smuggle you out. Kan is your frien-"

"It's fine Nella," Offiong said. He walked away from the rest of the workers, grabbed a chair, and sat outside the commune as he watched the sunrise. The pale, blotted sun made for a terrible sight - the evil god. He was beyond the god's power now. He closed his eyes and felt the wind on his face as cries filled the halls behind him.  

The guards amassed at the armory and were preparing to swarm the commune and attack the workers when word came that a worker had surrendered and taken credit for the burning of a quarter of the granary. What they wouldn't know was most of that they had carted off most of the grain. Offiong's screams filled the air as Ete Okon had his eye hammered out before the entire common population. Haem watched helplessly as they slung the thick rope around his whimpering friend. When the trapdoor beneath his feet opened, Offiong fell. He felt the rope tighten as his weight pulled against it. His throat gagged as he struggled, the crowd looking on in resignation. His feet stiffened as his neck broke.

The crack of a whip dispersed the crowd as Offiong dangled.

When the evil god vanished by the end of the day, his body was the highest in the pit.

IV

"Death is not the end!" The preacher said to the group seated at his feet. "After this life, you will be embraced by Saph'ir as he ushers you into his light." 

There were rumbles of approval from most of the people. 

"What of in life?" Nella said as she entered the room "To what end is all the suffering, all the strife." 

"Saph'ir is not the god of suffering or the god of strife. He only brings the long silence, the peace that we crave." 

Saph'ir, worshipped as the god of death by the slave population, had gained an increased following in the past few months. People trying to make sense of their lives had turned to 'living for a good death' as a reason to go on. "What of Offiong?" 

"What of him?" The preacher asked, wiping sweat off his brow.

"Has he found peace?!" She was angered by how docile her people had become, but she could not blame them. Life had tamed every one of them over the years and it was logical they turned to death for solace. 

"Saph'ir knew that to help others find the peace he had found, he had to sacrifice!" The preacher said, infusing his voice with fervor "Offiong will be remembered." 

"He will be remembered," the group echoed. 

Another worker stood "Nella, I understand your anger," She said "You think us weak for not rising to fight for more." 

Nella's knuckles paled as she grabbed the table next to her. "Yes. We all are." 

"The day will soon come. Death will rise from the abyss and all will answer his call." 

"ALL WILL ANSWER HIS CALL!" 

The group is slowly edging towards insanity, Nella thought to herself. She knew there was no god but the blotted sun, and even he wasn't all-powerful as he let them go each day. 

She walked away from the church that served death, heading to the commune kitchen, where a meal was being prepared for the children, with meat Haem had added to their diet recently. Nella knew he was only helping because he was guilty, but she didn't care; the children needed the meat, if it helped sate Haem's conscience, she was fine with it. Sharing the food was another arduous task that had to be handled by her. She ensured all the children ate; especially those whose parents were dead. 

She thought of the nights she and Haem had spent together; neither of them knew Offiong, but it gave them a reason to see each other. She knew exactly where he would be. 

Haeman 'Haem' Gartl was standing by udu mkpa. He did not have much to live for. Tutoring the children in history, sciences and the arts was his entire routine. He tried to be harmless so he could stay alive and help the other workers. 'House slave' they called him, he knew his role in their society; serve, mostly in silence. In this evolving world, he did not know his place. There were whispers of revolution, even as their unyielding tyrant smashed whatever resistance lay beyond their walls with rage. Within the walls, the church of the Undying ensured some of the workers accepted their servitude and waited for the return of a god who did not exist.

What is this life?

"Cold night," Nella said as she joined him from inside the commune.

"Hello Nella," Haem said.

Nella clung to her robes tightly. "Feeding children is no small deal, but I cannot help but think that they'd all be dead if it wasn't for Offiong." her greying hair was beautiful to look at in the moonlight. She spent her days working to ensure her sons didn't have to and her nights taking care of the children without parents. 

"True," Haem said "But for his sacrifice they would be in peril." "So what next?" 

"We live. The only thing we can do is liv-" 

"Hold on," Nella said, grabbing Haem as she pointed to the pit. "In there. What is that?" 

V

Pain. 

After a while, it just feels empty. He felt an intense amount of pain. The darkness didn't help. After what felt like an eternity, during which he felt the pain slowly pass over him, flowing through my vessels from the crown of my head to the sole of my feet, I managed to gain control of my fingers.

Just need full control of a limb. Anything to break free of this prison. 

He wondered what was being used to weigh me down. He tried to open his eyes and felt a burning where his right eye should've been. They nailed my eye. With his other eye, he saw and felt horror wash over him.

 Limbs. He was surrounded by corpses. He heard voices and looked up to try to see who was coming. If it was a guard he'd only end up in their custody again.

Light bathed over him as he broke through the press of bodies and groaned in agony.

A voice called out from above him "Offiong?"

.   .   .

"How are you here?" Haem asked. Offiong drank the water he was given quickly and asked for more. Nella handed him another skin. He gulped more before he spoke "I do not know." 

"You were dead," Nella said "We watched you die. Your body has been in the pit for two weeks now."

"Not yet two weeks actually," Haem said. 

Nella rolled her eyes "The fact remains. You were dead, now you're not. How is this possible?" 

"I do not know," Offiong said, his skin was deathly pale. He hadn't eaten anything in weeks. "Food." He growled.

One chicken later, Haem was sure he was dreaming. The church of the undying claimed Saph'ir, their god would return and claim this world for them, turning any who stood in his way to ash. He was looking at the core of their religious faith, manifesting completely and asking for more chicken.  

Offiong touched his face, feeling his yellowed bony orbit and remembering the pain of the bone hammered into his eye, seeing red and then nothing at all. He remembered hanging, neck straining against the rope, and then after so much pain, nothing at all. "How are the children?" He asked.

"Fed," Nella replied. 

"Good." Offiong stumbled as he stood and Haem caught him before he fell "I don't know what's going on.” The tutor said.

“Neither do I.” Offiong replied “ But I do know I need to kill certain people. Haem looked at his resurrected friend. "You need to rest Offiong." 

"I cannot." Offiong began pacing. "When I gave up myself, I knew I'd only bought the slaves some time; that we would eventually starve. Somehow I have a chance to change all that. Haem observed that his skin had gained most of its color back and he looked almost normal.

"How?" Nella said, "By charging at those who killed you and exerting revenge?" 

"You know one of the more frustrating parts of being a slave here? I know strength when I feel it, and none of these guys could beat me in a fight, save for Haem." 

Haem's eyes widened. He never spoke of his days on the front, but he'd given the ring his twenty-one years, but Offiong could feel the warrior in him, burgeoning underneath.

Nella pointed to the pair of them “Two warriors - one newly resurrected, and the other at least ten years past his fighting days."

"It has not been that long," Haem muttered under his breath.

Nella shook her head “You can fight as many as you want, but they will overwhelm you, and then they'll come for us. For the children, and the elderly. Who fights for them?!”

"The Church of the Undying," Haem said.

Nella and Offiong turned to him. "Those crazy people?" Nella spat " How will they help us if-" 

"The Church of the Undying is how we fix this.” Haem pointed to Offiong "We're looking at the physical embodiment of their deity. How crazy are they again? If we get them on our side we can turn this tide." 

"I’m not their god or his vessel," Offiong clenched his fists "I did not see anything. On the other side. No god sent me back." 

"They don't know that," Haem sits next to Offiong "This is our chance to spark something that could free all these people. Generations of enslaved, we could change all that. 

"How?" Nella asked.

As the pale sun left the sky the next day, Haem led a hooded Offiong into the tent that had been colonized by the church of the Undying. As they said their prayers - a cry to Saph'ir, their god. As Offiong took his position, Haem climbed their pulpit and spoke of visions he has seen - the return of the god Saph’ir was on hand, for death had risen from the Abyss. As some congregants whispered "heresy" and stood to revolt, others asked for proof.

"PROOF!" Haem bellowed “There he stands! Free from the Abyss, Saph'ir incarnate, risen." 

Offiong lowered his hood. People in the tent who were on their feet hurriedly fell to their knees and bowed. 

The black cloak belonged to Nella's son. Nella stood in the crowd, and as she locked eyes with Offiong, he nodded. She joined the rest of the lowborn on their knees. "Who will follow me?" 

Everyone in the tent began to whisper "Saph'ir. Saph'ir. Saph'ir" as Offiong's sole eye took in the church. He had his people, but he needed an army. "Spread the word. Get everyone of fighting age here. This land belongs to us. It always has. Now we take it all back." 

VI

The church moved in the quiet of the night spreading the word. Death had risen, and everyone could witness him.

As the young men and women gathered, Haem took to his new task of organizing and arming their ranks with ease, and when the slaves stormed Ete's house, the guards, to their credit, were quick to their feet, going for their weapons. They formed their ranks and trained their weapons at the burgeoning crowd.

The crowd parted slowly, letting Offiong through. The whispers of Saph’ir get louder as he makes his way forward. The guards who recognize him as he revealed himself are rattled. Kan tried to keep his cool "Offiong?" He asked, "Is that you?" 

"Would appear so, K." Offiong replied "I know a lot has changed since we fought off incursions together on the ring’s beaches, but you know me, brother.”

Kan had served under Offiong till they were chosen by an adjudicator to deliver the ring's justice.  Most of the lowborn there were unarmed and had no combat skills. They defended their lord, who had fallen for a common and married wrongfully, against the ring's laws. Offiong retired a week after the blood bath. Kan, his second, had not.

Kan bowed his head. "I lost the right to be your brother when I abandoned you." He says "You retired in what the others claimed was your shame, but I understood. I should've followed you, chief."

 You lot killed me, but I am here. You also have something of mine." 

The other guards looked at each other in confusion.

Kan nods, lights a coca cigarette, and walks away from his men. As he passes he drops his weapon, a sharpened machete that broadened towards the tip, in Offiong's hands.

Offiong tested the weapon’s swing with familiarity and faced the rest of the guards as Kan joined his ranks "Your leader has abandoned you. You have beaten and killed these people. You have killed mothers, fathers, and their children. But you did all this in orders from your masters. Our quarrel is not with you.”

"Peasant scum!" A guard shouted as he charges at Offiong. He made it halfway before he crumbled to the floor, an axe sticking out from his head. Haem's name whips through the crowd as he strides forward in his borrowed armor, metal plated with a beaten leather exterior. He pulled his weapon, stepped past his victim, and stood by Offiong.

The guards do not offer any resistance.

Ete Okon stood beneath the shadow of the main building, sequestered behind a large retinue of taskmasters. 

"Noble families of the ring! I have come for you all!” Offiong drew back his hood so they can see his face - the hollow eye socket they nailed. The face of a man they hung. Offiong walked toward them, signaling to the crowd not to follow. Haem and Kan slipped in behind him. 

“You said he was dead!” someone to the left flank snarled, sword half pulled.

Haem made a simple proclamation. “If anyone comes within a meter of us, we will kill every one of you.”

“I only want to kill the guys up there." Offiong pointed his weapon at Ete Okon and the taskmasters surrounding him. He slithered forward and watches their fear of a resurrected man carve a path to Okon. Haem and Kan follow. Some taskmasters charge at them, weapons drawn. 

 Offiong sidestepped the first assailant, sending him into Haem’s path, before blocking the next strike, and lodging the machete in his abdomen. He grabbed the dead man’s spear and charged at the remaining taskmasters, but he was stopped by crossbow bolts. 

He dodges with frantic terror, but some find purchase. Three bolts bury themselves in his chest, and another passes clean through his shoulder.

 Offiong takes a knee. Death cannot stop me.  On his shoulder, a hole the bolt made as it went through flesh, tendon, and muscle, then out the other side, closes as they reform.

The deserter dragged himself to his feet and pulled out the bolts throw sinew and gory flesh. Haem rushed at him with a shield to give me time to regain myself. "You're okay?" 

Offiong yanked the bolts out and nodded as the pain slowly vanished. 

The work is not complete.

Offiong spun out from behind Haem's shield and set himself on them. Taskmasters were not battle tested. They never stormed cities or defended their lands from overwhelming attacks. A few moments stood between them and death as twelve taskmasters fell to his swords. Twelve people dead after he has gone years without taking a life. 

"Okon!" 

Okon crawled out from behind the pillar he was hiding. “Please," His voice drags through the air "Spare me." Offiong dragged him by his collar out of the house, past the swelling crowd, and into Udu mkpa. 

Offiong looks at Nella and Haem and sees their reservations. They both know this is a necessity to sate the people's hunger. He walks away from the cheering crowd, who proceed to hurl stones, then knives and spears into the pit, at the screaming noble. 

"What do we do to the plantation?" Nella asks as Offiong reaches her, scared for the future of the liberated. "We take what we can," Offiong takes a deep breath. "Then we burn it all to the ground."