The world had forgotten its own ghosts, but they had not forgotten him.

  Morning crept over Neo-Ajegunle in fractured light, its rays piercing the perpetual smog like golden spears, yet failing to dispel the oppressive gloom that clung to the city's underbelly.

  The air hung thick and heavy, a humid blend of exhaust fumes, synthetic food stalls that sizzled with recycled oil, and the faint, unsettling tang of ozone, the city's breath a mix of life and decay, of progress and rot.

  Broken sor cloths, salvaged from crashed sky-cars and patched with scavenged circuitry, billowed in the wind, their surfaces adorned with fading glyphs of power, their shadows dancing like phantoms across the rusted piping that crisscrossed the crumbling hab-blocks.

  The city stirred, not with the vibrant energy of a new day, but with a restless, uneasy pulse, a low-frequency vibration that resonated with Afobi's own heightened senses, a discordant symphony of grinding gears, sputtering engines, and desperate cries that seemed to echo the turmoil within him.

  Repulsor-powered delivery drones, their energy fields sputtering and uneven, zipped between the towering structures, their movements jerky and agitated, their coded calls a frantic, insistent buzz that grated against his skull.

  Vendors hawked bck-market impnts and memory chips, their voices a constant drone of enticement and desperation, their wares dispyed on flickering holographic screens that cast an eerie glow on the faces of the haggling crowds.

  Neon signs blinked and flickered, advertising everything from synthetic food to virtual reality brothels, their light harsh and garish, yet failing to fully pierce the oppressive darkness that clung to the lower levels, a darkness that felt both physical and spiritual.

  Everything was alive, yet… fundamentally out of sync, distorted, as if reality itself was struggling to maintain its form, the city's familiar rhythms twisted into a grotesque parody of life.

  To Afobi, the city felt profoundly wrong, a discordant symphony that assaulted his senses, a brutal reminder of the world he had left behind.

  The silence of the memory realm, that profound stillness that had resonated with the very core of his being, still echoed in his mind, amplifying the city's chaos, making the familiar hum of the streets a physical pain against his eardrums.

  The scent of ozone and incense, a ghost of the Temple, clung to his skin, a stark contrast to the city's grime and decay.

  The ground beneath his feet felt too solid, too unyielding, cking the subtle give of the memory-earth, the weight of ages that pulsed beneath its surface.

  Even the light, once a source of life, now seemed to burn his eyes, a harsh and artificial gre, a cruel imitation of the ethereal beauty he had witnessed.

  He sat up slowly, his limbs heavy and uncoordinated, his body struggling to readjust to the familiar pull of gravity, a wave of nausea washing over him as the city's cacophony crashed against his altered senses.

  The glyph on his left palm thrummed with a restless energy, its bck spiral pulsing beneath his skin, a brand of his destiny and a constant reminder of the power he now wielded, a force that both terrified and exhirated him.

  “Afobi?”

  Taiwo’s voice, sharp with concern and a hint of something akin to awe, cut through the city's din, a lifeline in the storm of sensory overload.

  Afobi blinked, his gaze snapping into focus. Taiwo and Kehinde stood over him, their faces etched with worry, their expressions a mixture of relief and disbelief, as if they were witnessing a miracle they couldn't comprehend.

  Taiwo, his brow furrowed in concentration, held a handheld scanner, its surface scarred and worn, a testament to countless hours spent tinkering and inventing. The scanner dispyed a chaotic jumble of readings, numbers and symbols fshing across the screen, data that defied his understanding of human physiology. Energy fluctuations pulsed from Afobi’s body, erratic and unpredictable, defying the ws of physics, a chaotic dance of power that Taiwo's tech struggled to interpret. He gnced at Afobi, his eyes wide behind his cybernetic enhancements, his usual confidence shaken by the impossible.

  Kehinde, her movements cautious and deliberate, her gaze intense and searching, moved with a cautious grace, her fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch him, to verify his reality. But she hesitated, her expression a mixture of awe and fear, trying to reconcile the boy she knew with the unsettling presence before her. The air around him felt charged, heavy with an energy that resonated with the ancient power she had sensed in the Temple, a force that both repelled and attracted, a power that whispered of gods and forgotten realms.

  “You—” Taiwo exhaled, his breath fogging in the humid air, a forced attempt at normalcy. “You came back, Fo. I didn’t think you would.”

  Kehinde’s voice caught in her throat, thick with unshed tears and a desperate plea for reassurance. "I didn’t think you’d make it back, not in one piece. Not… not like this." Her eyes scanned him with a desperate intensity, searching for any sign of injury, any trace of the familiar warmth, the spark of innocence that had defined him. But the one who stood before her now felt… rger, older, imbued with an ancient presence that both terrified and fascinated her. His presence radiated a quiet strength, a sense of having wrestled with forces beyond human comprehension and emerged, if not unscathed, then… transformed.

  Afobi’s frame had filled out, his movements more fluid and purposeful, his body radiating a contained energy that hummed beneath his skin. Shoulders broader, his arms taut with new muscle, the power barely contained beneath his worn tunic. His chest rising and falling with the calm steadiness of someone who had faced the abyss and found their footing, his breath a steady rhythm that echoed the beating of an ancient drum. His posture was no longer hesitant, uncertain. It carried the stillness of a predator, the quiet confidence of someone who had embraced their destiny. His eyes, once filled with youthful curiosity and a hint of vulnerability, now burned with an inner fire, reflecting a knowledge that went beyond his years, a glimpse into the heart of creation and destruction. Even the air around him seemed to shimmer with a faint energy, a subtle distortion that made the dust motes dance in unsettling patterns, a palpable sense of otherworldly power.

  “I am,” Afobi replied, his voice low but certain, each word weighted with the echoes of his journey, each sylble a testament to the changes he had undergone, a force that resonated with the ancient power that now pulsed within him.

  Kehinde’s gaze lingered on his hands, her fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch him, to trace the intricate glyphs that now adorned his skin, a map of his altered destiny. “Stronger,” she conceded, her voice barely a whisper, ced with a mixture of awe and fear. “But there’s something else, Fo. Like you’re still halfway somewhere else. Like a veil separates you from us, a part of you still lost in that… that other pce.”

  Afobi closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath, the scent of zobo and old cloth grounding him in the familiar space, yet failing to fully dispel the lingering strangeness. He needed to expin, to make them understand the impossible reality he had encountered, the cosmic forces that now danced within him.

  He began to speak, the words pouring out of him in a torrent, a desperate need to share the burden he now carried, to make sense of the madness he had witnessed.

  "The portal... it didn’t lead to another pce, not in the way we understand space. It led inward—into something deeper, something ancient and terrifying, a realm beyond human comprehension. A memory. A scar on the soul of the world, etched in time and pain, a pce where the past was not a dead thing, but a living, breathing entity, as real and tangible as the city around us. It felt like falling into the bones of the world itself, the foundation upon which reality was built, the bedrock of existence. I was alone at first, adrift in a sea of swirling memories and forgotten sensations, lost in the byrinth of time and the echoes of countless lives. I thought I’d be alone the whole time, a solitary traveler in a nd of ghosts. But then the Ajogun came. Not just a monster, not just a threat to be overcome, but something far more insidious, something that preyed on the very essence of being, a force that threatened to unravel the fabric of reality itself. It was fear given form, grief made flesh, twisted memory given life and sentience. It spoke without words, its presence a psychic scream that threatened to shatter my very being, to consume my soul and leave behind only a hollow shell.

  And it tried to unmake me, to erase me from existence, to consume me with the darkness of the past, to drag me down into the abyss of oblivion, a fate I fear is worse than death, a silencing of all that I am, a loss of self that transcends the boundaries of time and space."

  Taiwo and Kehinde leaned in, their expressions a mixture of awe, disbelief, and a growing unease, their faces pale in the dim light, their eyes wide with a mixture of fascination and terror. They were witnessing something beyond their comprehension, a glimpse into a world that defied their understanding of science and spirituality, a reality that challenged the foundations of their existence.

  “And you fought it?” Taiwo asked, his voice barely a whisper, his hand instinctively reaching for the tools of his trade, the devices that allowed him to make sense of the world, his mind struggling to categorize the impossible.

  Afobi nodded, his gaze distant, his body trembling with the aftershocks of the battle, his spirit still reeling from the encounter. “I did. Not just with strength, not with the power I thought I possessed, the skills I had honed in the Scrap Quarter, but with something else. Something deeper, something primal, something that resonated with the very core of my being, a force that transcended the limitations of flesh and blood. The pendant from my mother burned against my chest, a comforting ember in the encroaching darkness, reacting to the Ajogun’s presence, calling out to something ancient and powerful, a resonance that echoed through my very blood, a summons that awakened something within me I never knew existed, a power that felt both alien and intimately familiar.”

  He paused, his hand gripping the worn fabric of the armchair, his knuckles white, his memory repying the events with vivid crity, the feeling of connection, the surge of à?? (ah-sheh) that coursed through his veins.

  “The golems were there, Tai, from the start. They emerged with me the moment I crossed the threshold into that realm, drawn by a force I couldn’t comprehend, a destiny woven into the fabric of time itself. Not summoned by me, not commanded by any conscious act of my will, but as if the portal itself had chosen us all together, bound us together by a shared purpose, a connection that defied logic and reason. They moved like ancient memories given form, their power a reflection of something vast and unknowable, their presence both terrifying and strangely familiar, a link to a heritage I was only beginning to understand. Each of them watching, waiting—not for orders, not for a master to command them, but for a kindred spirit, for a resonance of purpose, for a harmony of souls that transcended the boundaries of life and death, of time and space.”

  His gaze shifted to Kehinde, his eyes pleading for understanding, his voice dropping to a near whisper, his words carefully chosen to convey the weight of the responsibility he now carried.

  “Not summoned. Not forced. They answered something within me, something I didn’t know I possessed, a hidden strength, a forgotten heritage, a power that resonated with their own, a force that moved through me like a current, guiding my actions, shaping my will. We fought together, a symphony of destruction and creation, our wills intertwined, our destinies bound by a force beyond my control, a purpose that dwarfed our individual lives. I didn’t control them, not in the way I control my own limbs, my own thoughts. I became a conduit, a channel for their power, their strength flowing through me, guided by my heart, my spirit, my very essence, a resonance of purpose, a harmony of souls that transcended the limitations of flesh and blood, of code and cy.”

  He gnced at his hands, his fingers tracing the faint lines of the glyphs etched into his skin, the source of his newfound power and his terrifying connection to the past, the map of his altered destiny.

  “The Ajogun bled into nothing—but not before it revealed the truth of what it was, the horror of its existence, the nature of the darkness we face, the enemy that now threatens to consume us all. I think you two should understand, you should know what’s coming, what we’re fighting for, what we’re fighting against. The Ajogun aren't just beasts, mindless creatures of destruction, simple threats to be overcome. They're not well-known, not like Orisha or spirits from folktales. Most people in Ajegunle dismiss them as superstition, as fever dreams or the whispers of madness, the shadows of the mind. But they’re real, as real as you and me, as real as the city that sprawls around us. Ancient, their origins lost in the mists of time, their power a perversion of the very à?? (ah-sheh) that sustains life, a corruption of the divine essence that binds us all.”

  He paused, his voice filled with a newfound respect for the darkness he had faced, a somber understanding of the enemy they now confronted, a chilling premonition of the horrors to come.

  “They're the corrupted memories of the world, given form and sentience, their existence a testament to the enduring power of the past. Born from unresolved grief, broken oaths, forgotten prayers, the shadows of the past given life and sentience, their hunger insatiable, their malice boundless, their touch a chilling reminder of mortality. They wear fear like skin, their essence a tangible manifestation of pain and loss, their presence a suffocating weight that crushes the spirit, a darkness that seeks to extinguish the light of hope.”

  He looked up, his gaze meeting Taiwo’s and Kehinde’s, a desperate plea for understanding in his eyes, a silent prayer for belief.

  “When I saw it, when I fought it, it felt like facing the embodiment of every unspoken fear in my bloodline, every unhealed wound in our history, every regret that clung to my soul, a darkness that threatened to consume me from within. It knew my weaknesses, my doubts, my deepest insecurities, and it used them like a weapon, twisting them into grotesque parodies of truth, turning my own memories against me, shattering my sense of self. It didn’t just want to defeat me, to break my body; it wanted to consume me, to erase me from existence, to unravel my very being and leave behind only a hollow shell, a puppet dancing to the tune of the past, a ghost in my own life, a void where a soul once resided.”

  Visions flickered behind his eyes, a haunting procession of faces, their stories etched in pain and loss, their fates a chilling warning of the darkness that lurked in the shadows, a testament to the power and the danger of this legacy.

  “And I saw others, countless others, who had fallen before me, Disciples like me, from every corner of this world, stretching back through time, their stories a symphony of triumph and tragedy. Yoruba warriors consumed by shadow, their courage turned to despair, their strength twisted into cruelty, their names erased from the annals of history. Igbo mystics devoured by their own illusions, their power twisted into a force of destruction, their wisdom repced by madness, their knowledge lost to the ages. Tiv shamans silenced by the whispers of forgotten gods, their voices repced by the Ajogun’s static screams, their connection to the spirit world severed, their guidance repced by lies. Ibibio priestesses drowned in the grief of their ancestors, their tears turning to poison, their healing touch repced by a deadly curse, their compassion repced by vengeance. Hausa schors driven mad by forbidden knowledge, their minds shattered like gss, their thirst for understanding repced by a thirst for oblivion. Gwari artisans, their creations corrupted into instruments of torment, their beauty twisted into grotesque mockery, their art a reflection of their own despair, a testament to the Ajogun's power to corrupt even the most sacred things.”

  He paused, his breath catching in his throat, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and terror, a profound respect for the darkness he had faced and the strength it demanded to overcome.

  “Some triumphed, their eyes burning with divine fire, their forms radiating a strength that defied mortality, their names etched in the annals of history, their legends whispered in awe and reverence. But many more were shattered, their spirits broken, their bodies twisted and consumed, their potential extinguished before it could bloom, leaving behind only whispers of what might have been, echoes of lives lost to the darkness, a chilling reminder of the stakes involved in this conflict.”

  He looked back at Taiwo and Kehinde, his gaze softening, his voice filled with a desperate plea for understanding, a raw vulnerability usually hidden beneath yers of bravado and self-reliance, a yearning for connection in the face of impending doom.

  “All of them began alone. All of them faced the darkness with only the echoes of their ancestors to guide them, their strength tested in solitude. And many of them failed, consumed by the weight of their heritage, swallowed by the shadows that lurked within. That’s why I need you two. That’s why you’re so important. You’re my family, my brothers, my sisters. You’re the only ones who truly know me, who understand the darkness I carry and the light I strive to find, the only ones who can remind me of my humanity, who can tether me to the present. You’re my anchors in the storm, my only hope for survival, my only chance to succeed where so many others have fallen.”

  Taiwo shifted uncomfortably, his usual sarcasm repced by a grim determination, his gaze fixed on Afobi, his mind racing to comprehend the weight of his words, the enormity of the task ahead. He reached out and squeezed Afobi’s shoulder, his touch firm and reassuring, his eyes reflecting a fierce loyalty, a silent vow to stand by his friend no matter the cost. “We’re not going anywhere, Fo. We’re in this together, ‘til the end. Always.”

  Kehinde nodded, her expression hardening with a fierce resolve, her hand resting on his, her touch a silent promise of unwavering support, a bond forged in shared experience and unbreakable loyalty, a connection that transcended the limitations of blood. “Then let’s begin. Let’s learn to control this power, to master this legacy, to become the warriors we need to be to face whatever darkness is coming for us. Together.”

  Later, when the hum of the outside world softened to a distant murmur, the city’s chaos repced by the quiet rhythm of their breathing, and the zobo (hibiscus drink) kettle hissed softly in the corner, filling the room with the sweet, tangy aroma of home, Afobi sat alone in the back of the shop, his thoughts swirling like the dust motes dancing in the fading sunlight, his spirit grappling with the enormity of his new reality, the weight of his destiny.

  Taiwo joined him quietly, his movements uncharacteristically subdued, his usual energy repced by a quiet intensity, a sense of grim purpose that mirrored Afobi’s own. He pced a small holo-projector on the crate beside them, its surface scratched and worn, a testament to countless hours spent tinkering and inventing, a tool that bridged the gap between the ancient and the future, dispying a three-dimensional map of their potential battleground. A 3D map of Makoko, a sprawling water-city built on stilts and powered by sor energy, flickered into view, the holographic image surprisingly detailed, revealing hidden pathways, submerged chambers, and abandoned training grounds, a refuge and a battleground.

  “This pce still work?” Afobi asked, his voice barely audible above the pping of the virtual waves, a hint of nostalgia in his tone, a longing for the familiar rhythms of their past.

  “Mostly. Sor grid’s patchy, but the lower chambers are dry. And no cameras. Off-grid. Perfect for training, for isoting ourselves from prying eyes and unwanted attention,” Taiwo replied, his gaze fixed on the intricate details of the map, his fingers tapping out calcutions on his wrist-comp, his mind already formuting a pn, a strategy for survival.

  Kehinde entered, her presence a silent promise of support, her movements fluid and purposeful. She pced three chipped metal cups filled with steaming zobo, the warmth spreading through their fingers like a shared heartbeat, a silent communion before the storm. “You’re not going back in there unprepared, Fo,” she said, her voice firm, her eyes unwavering. “Not again. We’ll learn to control this power, to master this legacy, to become the warriors we need to be to face whatever darkness is coming for us, whatever horrors the Ajogun unleash.”

  Afobi took the cup, grateful for the warmth and the familiar taste, a small comfort in the face of the encroaching unknown. “The next trial won’t be like the first,” he said, his gaze distant, his voice echoing with the certainty of prophecy, his words a warning and a promise. “It’s already here, lurking beneath the surface, watching our every move, testing our resolve.”

  Taiwo gnced at Kehinde, a silent question passing between them, a shared understanding of the gravity of the situation, a premonition of the battles to come. Then, he turned back to Afobi, his expression grim but resolute. “Then we hit back harder. We learn to fight smarter, to control this power, to become more than we are, to wield the à?? (ah-sheh) with a purpose that rivals its destructive potential, to become a force that can stand against the darkness.”

  Kehinde nodded, her hand resting on the hilt of her bde, her stance firm and unyielding, a silent vow of protection, a promise to stand by her friend no matter the cost, even if it meant facing the wrath of gods and demons. “We’ll be ready. Together. Always.”

  Afobi nodded slowly, his gaze hardening with a newfound determination, a flicker of steel in his eyes, a resolve born from fear and tempered by love, a strength forged in the crucible of loss. “We will.”

  He paused, a flicker of fear crossing his face, quickly repced by a steely resolve that belied his youth. “But first… we need to understand what we’re up against. What we’re fighting for. And what they’ll demand of us.”

  Taiwo’s scanners beeped again, their warnings growing more frantic, the readings dispying a chaotic jumble of energy signatures, a cacophony of the impossible.

  “And it’s getting closer,” he muttered, his fingers flying across the controls, his mind racing to decipher the data, to find a pattern in the chaos.

  Afobi stood, his body trembling with a mixture of fear and anticipation, his heart pounding in time with the drums of war that echoed in his mind, a primal rhythm that resonated with the ancient power within him, a call to arms. He touched the glyph on his palm, feeling its energy stir beneath his skin, the bck spiral pulsing with a light that felt both alien and intrinsically his own, a destiny he could no longer deny.

  It shimmered more clearly now, the lines more defined, the energy more potent, responsive to his will, eager to be unleashed, a weapon and a shield, a promise and a threat.

  He closed his eyes, his mind focusing on the task ahead, his spirit reaching out to the unknown, seeking guidance and strength from the ancestors themselves, their wisdom a beacon in the encroaching darkness. And a single phrase, not his own, but ancient and powerful, a ment and a prophecy, echoed in the quiet of his mind, a voice that transcended time and space, a melody of hope and despair:

  “?m? ina, ?m? omi…

  Child of fire, child of water… the storm has not forgotten you.”

  A memory, a prophecy, a warning etched in the very essence of his being, a chilling premonition of the trials to come, a reminder of the power he now carried and the burden he was destined to bear, a weight that threatened to crush him yet fueled his resolve.

  The glyph on his hand pulsed sharply, a sudden fre of heat that seared into his nerves, a physical manifestation of the impending danger, a call to action. He winced and opened his eyes, the room around him blurring at the edges, the familiar reality momentarily dispced by the echoes of the memory realm, the scent of blood and ash mingling with the sweet aroma of the zobo, a taste of the coming conflict.

  The lights in the room dimmed further, casting the space in an eerie twilight, the power fluctuating wildly in response to an unseen force, the very air crackling with energy, the shadows dancing with a malevolent glee. The zobo kettle let out a sharp hiss, its steam a silent scream of warning, as if the room itself was recoiling from an unknown presence, a phantom hand reaching out from the darkness. Outside, the chant of the street preacher faltered and died, caught mid-loop by a sudden surge of static that silenced the city's cacophony, his amplified words repced by an unnerving silence that amplified the tension, a void that screamed louder than any sound.

  A gust of wind, cold and malevolent, pushed through the seams of the old tailor’s door, rattling the windows and extinguishing the candles, carrying the scent of decay and the promise of violence, its touch a chilling reminder of mortality, a harbinger of the darkness that threatened to consume them all.

  A presence, unseen but palpable, filled the room, heavy with anticipation, a sense of impending doom that dwarfed anything they had faced before, a cosmic predator circling in the shadows, its hunger insatiable, its power undeniable, its purpose shrouded in mystery.

  Not fear, not yet, but something darker, something ancient and hungry, a force that threatened to unravel the very fabric of existence, to corrupt the heart of à?? (ah-sheh) itself, to plunge the world into an eternal night.

  A second trial was coming, he knew with a chilling certainty that settled deep in his bones, a certainty that defied logic and reason, a knowledge imprinted on his very soul.

  It would not ask permission.

  It was already here, its arrival inevitable, its power undeniable, its purpose shrouded in darkness, its presence a promise of war.

  The air tasted like lightning. The ground shook with a distant, thunderous rhythm. The Ajogun were coming. What do you think they want, and what will the drums of war unleash?