The Void

Temi Giwa
4 min readJan 25, 2023


There are no sounds as she walks into the room.

Still, every head swivels to focus on her. Our goddess, our hope, our devotion.

Each of us stands at complete attention, muscles taut from the tension of suppressing the urge to throw ourselves at her feet. Hunger pushing forward in waves.

No one moves from their position. A hundred men line the walls of the too-large room. He was the weakest of his class, with barely enough psionic ability to make it into the order. But even with his dull skills, he could feel their collective yearning against his skin. A desire to be closer that is desperation. Each mind silently calling, “Mistress! Choose me!”.

He thinks of what their yearning must feel like for her as she comes into view. But his thoughts are stolen from him in the sheer awe of her presence.

She is perfection from the crown of her head to each gold sandaled foot. Dark skin without blemish, the moulded curve of her hip, the rippling mounds of her breasts. There is no sound, even though she is covered in a dress made almost completely of metallic disks. A garment that on a mortal would clink with each minute movement.

She is The Void. The absolute emptiness. The beginning of everything before there was anything. Nothing escapes without her will. Not even sound.

His gaze rises to her eyes. Her pupils are dark pools that speak to him. He can focus nowhere else. They promise absolution. And somehow, she smiles directly at him. It reminds him of his mother's smile. The soft tilt of lips that say quietly. You have done well my son. I am proud of you.

A knot somewhere in his soul comes loose and his desire to be chosen intensifies even as his mind reels with the depth of his longing.

“I am not worthy”.

He casts his eyes downwards, taking slow breaths that come to a stop when he sees jewelled feet come to rest in front of him. A warm hand cups his cheeks as she lifts his face to meet her eyes.

He muses over the flecks of gold in them even as he is pulled into the abyss.

“Will you join me, my child?”

He is standing on the banks of lake Ntanbe. His favourite childhood spot for creating a little mischief. But the normally busy waterway is completely devoid of life, even though the sun is high in the sky and the sand beneath his feet blazes hot. He is sweating, drying out, his throat is almost closed from thirst. Yet he stands at the brink of the too-smooth river, hesitating to enter the one thing that could save him.

He can not give in just yet. He has a boon to ask.

Her smile widens further, “Will you give me your hope, that I may give you rest?”

“Mistress, I would give you my everything. But my father, he is an unbeliever and even as we speak he marches with the heretics against you”

She pauses at his admission. Beatific smile waning only for the briefest of moments.

“You are a good son to worry for him, but fear not. He will be taken care of for the rest of his life. Now come to me, so I may soothe your troubled soul”

Relief floods him and he wades into the soothing waters. Its cooling effect soaking the heat from his body and leaching the memories from his mind. Each step pulls him deeper into the water. And when it touches the breastplate of his armour, he reaches for her outstretched hand.

He’s so close.

A few more steps and his head is empty of everything but the desire to take that hand.

His fingertips not quite brushing hers, the water closes over his head.

There is no sound.

She returns to the room of her most devoted soldiers. Stepping back from the carcass of her newest acquisition.

She is content. It was a good choice. Quite a filling meal. With this calibre of options, she would be at full power sooner than she had anticipated. She turns away from the remains. And releases her mortal shape as she heads back into her domain.

She does not acknowledge the tug of the other bodies begging for her attention. There’s no need to. They will still be there whenever she is ready for a new acquisition.

She spreads her consciousness across the plains searching for the father. She always keeps her promises.

In the dusty field where the slaves are kept, the closest general to the man pulls him from the crowd. He is met by two others and she communicates her wishes. The man will be properly taken care of till the end of his days.

As they beat him to death, she soaks up his pain and anguish.

A fittingly light dessert after the richness of his sons' devotion.



Temi Giwa

I write about starting and growing new things. Mostly around startups and how to build your own. I also have opinions … lots of them … come fight me 🤦🏾‍♀️