JOSHUA:
The ruins of Navil Port still reeked of smoke and blood when we left.
NSDA had sent in recovery units, hazmat teams, and silence. Lots of silence. The kind that settles over a place after something irreversible has happened.
Olamilekan hadn't spoken since the fight. He just stared out the window of the armored transport, fists clenched, the flicker of light and shadow dancing along his fingertips like a nervous tic.
I didn't bother him. I knew that look. I'd worn it once, after we lost Leila and Amira. The look of a soul caught between fury and grief.
But this time… there was something else.
Resolve.
---
When we reached the NSDA's central headquarters in New Lyon, everything felt colder. Not just because of the towering white walls and steel walkways, but because they were waiting.
Councilor Miro.
Director Andel.
And a half-dozen agents in mana-suppressing armor.
"Step forward," Miro said flatly. "You're both under review."
"For what?" I snapped. "Saving hostages? Stopping Martin from—"
"Losing control," Andel cut in. His eyes locked on Olamilekan. "Your energy readings went off every chart we have. Light. Shadow. Entropic harmonics. You nearly leveled half the port."
"We stopped him," I said. "We held back."
Miro turned to Olamilekan. "Did you?"
Olamilekan didn't respond. His eyes glowed faint gold—and deep inside, I saw the swirl of black just under the surface.
Miro nodded to the guards. "Place him in Arc Cell One. Until further notice, he's on lockdown."
I stepped between them. "You can't—"
Olamilekan raised a hand. "It's fine, Josh."
"No, it's not—"
"I need this," he said quietly. "Before the next fight, I need to understand what I am."
---
OLAMILEKAN
The Arc Cell was a prison for monsters.
Or people the NSDA didn't know how to control.
The walls were made of layered glyphsteel. The floor had an anti-mana field. The light never changed. Time felt like it stood still.
But that was fine.
I didn't want distractions.
I sat in the center of the room, closed my eyes, and listened—to the heartbeat of my magic.
At first, only chaos.
Light screaming. Darkness whispering.
I let them argue.
Let them claw at my mind.
And then—slowly—I began to listen.
What if they weren't enemies?
What if they were the same thing… split in two?
What if I was the one tearing them apart?
Days passed. Maybe weeks.
And then, it happened.
I breathed in.
And both powers answered.
Together.
Not war. Not harmony either.
But something close.
Something dangerous. Something new.
---
MEANWHILE — UNKNOWN LOCATION
Martin stumbled through a blackened corridor, blood trailing behind him. His arm was still useless. His ribs cracked. His power unstable.
He reached the chamber at the end of the tunnel—lined with ancient stone and humming with old, forgotten magic.
A voice greeted him.
"You look like death, boy."
Martin smirked. "I am death."
A figure stepped from the shadows. Cloaked. Eyes burning red beneath a bone mask.
"No," the figure said. "You're a herald. And the hour approaches."
Martin dropped to one knee, grinning through the blood. "Then tell me… is he ready?"
The figure's gaze burned through dimensions. Through time.
"No," it whispered.
"But he's getting close."
---
JOSHUA:
When they finally let me see him, Olamilekan looked different.
Not older. Not scarier.
Sharper.
His eyes had changed—still gold, but threaded with black.
He stood slowly and smiled, just a little. "Thanks for waiting."
I grinned. "Didn't have a choice. They tried to put me in a cell too. I said no."
"Let me guess," he said. "You stabbed a wall."
"Three, actually."
We walked out of the cell together.
Outside, the sun was setting. Blood-orange sky. A calm before something terrible.
I looked at him. "So… are you ready?"
He nodded, shadows and light swirling around him in a slow danc
e.
"No," he said.
"But I will be."
---
Far away, a bell tolled deep beneath the earth. The first seal had cracked. And the world… was listening.