The king finally came to a halt, and the creatures surrounding them stopped as well, prodding their captives forward until they reached a peculiar section of the cave that stood out from the rest. The king raised his staff, grasping it firmly with both hands, and plunged the pointed end into the earth. A deafening roar echoed through the cavern, sending shivers down the captives' spines. Then, in a voice that was both commanding and ancient, he began to speak: "Yei deisioi! Ghriiish keise papeinio bru vosese..." The creatures listened intently as he continued, their faces lit with an unsettling fervor.
Finally, he concluded with a single word: "Zoite." With a sweeping gesture of his right hand toward the captives, the creatures erupted into a frenzy, dragging them toward a massive, bubbling mud pot, its belly bulging ominously. The king pointed a clawed finger at Rotimi and Chichi, his gesture unmistakable. Before they could even think to struggle, the creatures seized them, lifting them off the ground. In a swift, merciless motion, Rotimi and Chichi were tossed into the pot, which was filled with water that seemed to ripple and churn with an otherworldly energy. The king barked another order, and almost instantly, the creatures set to work, building a fire beneath the pot. Flames crackled to life, licking at the mud container as the water inside began to simmer and churn. Rotimi and Chichi thrashed about in the water, their screams echoing off the cave walls as the heat started to rise.
"No!" Amina and Bisola shrieked in unison, their voices piercing the air as they burst into tears. They watched in horror as Rotimi and Chichi were trapped in the pot, the flames rising ominously beneath them. Mike's face contorted in anguish, and the other guys stood frozen, their eyes wide with pain and despair, unable to do anything but mourn the fate that had befallen their friends.
The king turned to the remaining captives, his voice booming in his native tongue. The creatures responded with a deafening cheer, their voices echoing off the cave walls. With a flick of his tail, the king departed, leaving his minions to prepare for what seemed to be an ominous ritual. The creatures began to don strange, ornate headdresses and adorn themselves with bones and feathers, their movements frenzied and purposeful. Amina, Bisola, Mike, and TJ exchanged terrified glances, their minds racing with the realization that they were in grave danger. The air was thick with foreboding, and they knew their fate hung precariously in the balance.
As the flames beneath the pot intensified, Rotimi and Chichi's screams grew more agonized, their voices hoarse from the heat and terror. Amina and Bisola were consumed by uncontrollable sobs, their bodies shaking with each wail. Mike and TJ stood frozen, their faces pale and drawn, as they watched the horrific scene unfold. The creatures, on the other hand, seemed to be reveling in the spectacle, their twisted grins and gleeful chatter filling the air. Meanwhile, their king observed the scene with a satisfied smile, his eyes gleaming with a malevolent intensity, as if savoring the suffering of his captives.
The king's gaze suddenly shifted to Mike, and he spoke in his guttural language, his voice low and commanding. One of the creatures stepped forward, handing Mike a strange, intricately carved object. The king spoke again, his words punctuated by gestures, and Mike's eyes widened as understanding dawned on him. He seemed to grasp the task being set before him, and his eyes locked onto the object in his hand. For a moment, Mike's gaze lingered on the object, and a spark of hope flickered to life in his eyes. Perhaps, he thought, this was a chance to buy their freedom, or at least delay their fate. Mike's fingers closed around the object, his mind racing with possibilities.
Before Mike could react further, the king turned towards the pot, his voice booming out a single command. The creatures responded instantly, piling more fuel onto the fire, and the flames erupted higher, engulfing the pot. Rotimi and Chichi's screams grew louder, more agonized, as the heat intensified. Amina and Bisola's sobs redoubled, their faces contorted in anguish as they watched their friends suffer. Mike's grip on the object tightened, his eyes fixed on the king, as if searching for any sign of what lay ahead. The king's gaze remained fixed on the pot, a look of cruel satisfaction etched on his face.