CHAPTER 4 – “CORDELIA”

©️ Opeyemi Akintunde
As Inspired by the DEEP ONE

So Tijesuni and I went to Mummy G.O’s office once again. This time, with holy boldness.

“Mama, We need to go in,” Tijesuni said, her voice steady.

“Jesus didn’t stay in heaven shouting prayers. He came down. We want to do the same.”

Mummy G.O was silent. She looked at us, then at Daddy G.O who had joined the meeting midway. Her voice was gentle but firm.

“I don’t want to lose either of you. Do you know how many people have gone into strange fellowships and never returned?”

“But faith without works is dead,” I whispered. “If we don’t go, who will?”

There was a long silence. Then she sighed.

“Give me two days. Let me pray.”

Those two days felt like two years.

But finally, she called us in again…this time with anointed oil, handkerchiefs, and strict spiritual instructions.

“If you’re going in, you must go in sealed. Covered. We will assign intercessors to hold your names before God every single night.”

We agreed.

We submitted our applications through their online platform. Simple forms, followed by mandatory video devotions. Each session came with hauntingly catchy worship music and teachings laced with half-truths.
If you had told me I’d be registering for a six-week online discipleship course led by a man called “The Oracle of Kairos,” I would have stretched my Bible at you and screamed, “The devil is a liar!”

But there I was, laptop open, earphones in, sipping ginger tea to calm my nerves.

Day One: The video opened with dramatic music. Thunder. Harps. A low rumble like the voice of many waters. Then he appeared….The Oracle.

Dressed in flowing wine-coloured robes, his face covered in what he called the Veil of the Prophets, he spoke in riddles that made Ecclesiastes sound like kindergarten rhymes.

“The Kairos realm,” he said in a voice that was half whisper, half echo, “is not for the mortal. You must become immortal in understanding.”

I paused the video.

Immortal keh?

Even Apostle Paul didn’t talk like this. And he met Jesus face to face on the road to Damascus.

I took a deep breath and pressed play.

Every day for the next two weeks, I played the game. Logged in. Took notes. Answered weird questions like:

“What time of the day were you born? This helps us determine your Kairos code.”

“Have you ever encountered a portal during worship?”

“Do you feel a pull when you look at the moon?”

My Dear Readers, I answered like a loyal student. I didn’t lie…but I left out the fact that I was born again, Holy Ghost filled, and spiritually smarter than I looked.

Tijesuni was also in the room, but we took different positions and plugged in our earphones, so as not to be found out. Occasionally, we turned off our cameras and audio to laugh at the ridiculousity of the church, other times we cried at the ignorance and slavery mentality that was being sold to people.

“Separate from your families,” one teacher said. “They are the weight keeping your spirit from flying.”

I paused the video and looked at Tijesuni. “They’re clearly teaching isolation”.

But I had one mission.

Get to Cordelia.

By Week Three, I got the invite.

“Congratulations, Daughter of Kairos. You are sanctified. You may now begin physical worship.”

I was admitted into Cohort 9. Tijesuni? Cohort 10, to begin two months later.

“They’re staggering our entry,” she said. “Fine. You’ll go first.”

We prayed all night before I left.

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Phones weren’t allowed. I had to surrender mine at the gate. They tagged it, locked it, and gave me a card. No recording devices. No notebooks. Just you and their discipleship curriculum.

We were ushered towards a building. Apparently, that was the first place we were to go to. I thought they would assign rooms first but no …we were ushered to a church building. We were about 15 new intakes or members…

The church building was a massive white dome tucked away in a secluded area behind a gated estate. Guards at the gate. Cameras everywhere. You would think they were guarding the Ark of the Covenant.

Inside, it felt like a temple and a tech startup had a baby.

Smoke machines. Blue neon lights. Circular stage. No cross in sight. Just a large, glowing symbol…like an eye wrapped in a flame. They called it the “All seeing eye of God!” Blasphemy! Heresy! I wanted to scream…

“Welcome,” Ushers said, “to the realm of the awakened.”

“I was never asleep before” I replied in my mind. I wanted to tell the Usher, she was the one sleeping.

Then came the chants. Rhythmic, hypnotic. Not in any known language. Not tongues. Just sounds looped syllables.

“Ka…ai…ro…os… She…lu…moi…ka… Thee…ee…ree…ma…na…ka…”

As they chanted, I saw Cordelia.

She was kneeling. Eyes closed. Face glowing. She looked… happy.

But it wasn’t joy. It was euphoria…the kind drugs give before they wreck you.

“God ABEG! I refuse to lose my sense here! ” I said quietly.

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