Mezzezeh took the liquid from Koomba and he gulped down every drop of it.
Instantaneously he felt the potion flowing through his veins and felt his intestines twisting as he held his stomach, falling to his knees. He was in agony. “Think good thoughts,” Koomba advised. Those were the last words Mezzezeh heard as he felt his hands and feet numbing, and vision blacking out.

He found himself in a strange realm, soon Mezzezeh saw three men riding on horses; they were dressed in a black robes that revealed only their eyes.

Their appearance was frightening and each wielded three swords, one on each hand and the last on their backs. The rider in the middle had both of his swords smeared with blood. They rode across his kingdom with confidence and struck fear into the hearts of his people. They marched on, and with every stride he felt a gripping pain in his heart.

Mezzezeh regained consciousness and lied — exhausted and motionless — on the ground, drenched in sweat. Koomba stripped Mezzezeh of his royal robes and took another scoop of Iboga from the broiling broth in the cauldron. “Drink this,”
Koomba said as he shoved the stirrer into Mezzezeh’s mouth. Mezzezeh hesitated but he was too weak to struggle. He gulped down another mouthful of the concoction, convulsing as he lost consciousness again.

This time he saw three women clothed in white robes. The first woman terrified him; her skin was pearly white and her hair was long and golden. He had never seen someone like this before. She put on a radiant smile that calmed him down.

“Take one, one left, keep none,” she said with a soft voice as she stretched out her hands revealing two roses, one black and one white. Mezzezeh took the roses and approached the second woman.

She looked different from the first; he was amazed but not shocked. She had straight, long dark hair with very distinct facial features. She had a stern look on her face, and her eyes were low and small, but she was very attractive.

“I am the gate keeper. You shall not pass without an offering,” she said. Mezzezeh bowed his head in respect and gave her a white rose. She smelt it and cracked a smile. “Come closer,” she ordered. Mezzezeh stepped toward her; he felt a cold chill. He was overcome by cold wind in her presence.

She held his hands and her soft lips grazed his ears as she whispered: “Be vigilant when you dine, hollow is the mind that sleeps in wine.” She let go of her guard and Mezzezeh walked towards the last woman.

She was tall, beautiful and had full lips and curly hair. Her eyes were hazel brown and her skin was radiant and dark. She was pregnant. “I am glad you found me.
Without me, you lose all hope and your future is bleak,” she said. Mezzezeh was confused and lost for words. Eventually he asked: “Wise one, I do not understand that of which you speak. Counsel me.”

She replied, “The destiny of your people lies in your hands. You will discover the truth, true enlightenment that you seek. It is universal. The true master shall deliver you and you shall serve him. He rules over your world and the world beyond.
Open your heart and mind to him; if your refuse you shall suffer for generations until you turn to him. Go with faith and prepare for battle.”

Immediately after she finished speaking Mezzezeh came back from unconsciousness. As he lay motionless on the ground he opened his eyes and saw the towering figure of Koomba in front of him.

Koomba knew his kata was too tired to speak. He broke a piece of rum cake and offered it to Mezzezeh. “Eat this,” he said. Koomba poured some palm wine into a calabash gourd. “Drink this, it will calm you down.” Mezzezeh reached for the drink and changed his mind. With some difficulty he got up, put on his robe and walked slowly to the hallway.