chapter 61
Hollow sky-2
10:39am
They sat by the window of the cafeteria, warm sunlight pouring across metal trays and half-eaten jollof rice. Students buzzed around them, laughing, shouting, scraping chairs—just another school day.
But Tolu couldn't focus.
She kept glancing at Ehimare. That magic... It wasn't trained. It wasn't channeled. It felt raw. Untouched. Like a wellspring waiting to be discovered.
He didn't act like he knew. And that worried her more.
She was so lost in thought, she didn't realize how intensely she was staring until he cleared his throat.
"Anything?" he asked, a brow raised.
Tolu blinked. "Huh? Oh—just wanted to see if you like the jollof rice," she said, forcing a casual smile.
"A lot," he said, grinning. "Tastes way better than the thing they call rice at my school."
They both laughed.
But Tolu's eyes dropped again—this time to his forearm, where his sleeve had slightly shifted.
There.
A mark.
Not a tattoo. A sigil. Carefully etched in faded ink. Old, protective—woven against the evil eye. A charm only someone who knew magic would use. Or someone trying to guard someone who didn't.
Her stomach tightened.
Before she could speak, the air changed.
It was like the sky inhaled. The light dimmed, though the sun still shone. The sound of laughter seemed to blur around her, and a chill slid down her spine.
Then it hit.
A wave of energy, so dark and ancient it felt like the world held its breath. It lasted only a second—but it drenched everything.
Ehimare's fork clattered to his tray.
He doubled over, gasping—then collapsed.
"Ehimare?!"
Tolu jumped from her seat, kneeling beside him.
His eyes—black. Not blinking. Not human.
Then he spoke.
His voice—not his voice—poured out in the Tongue of the Dead, words not meant for mortal lips:
> "Nalu'krex zaar thora'vel…"
"Om'kael ven thar Omren'sel…"
Gasps rose from nearby tables. A girl screamed. A tray hit the floor.
> "Zek'thar velun, zahr'in flam…"
"Kor'mira zal, tu'nem nam…"
Tolu backed away slowly, her hands trembling.
No. Not here. Not now.
This was the prophecy.
The one Moses had warned them about.
And somehow—Ehimare was connected to it.
Screams erupted in the cafeteria. Chairs scraped loudly. Students bolted. Some ducked under tables, others pulled out their phones, recording what looked like a seizure—or something worse.
Ehimare lay on the floor, eyes pitch-black. He wasn't convulsing. He was speaking.
But not in English.
Tolu could hear it—words that didn't sound human. Ancient syllables that made her skin crawl and her chest tighten.
> "Nalu'krex zaar thora'vel…"
"Om'kael ven thar Omren'sel…"
"What the hell—?" someone shouted.
Before Tolu could move, before she could even scream for help—
Time froze.
Every sound cut off mid-breath. A dropped cup hovered in the air beside her. A half-scream hung in a girl's mouth, unmoving. Trays, drinks, limbs—everything locked in place like a paused video.
Except for Ehimare.
He kept speaking. His voice echoed through the still room, low and unnatural:
> "Zek'thar velun, zahr'in flam…"
"Kor'mira zal, tu'nem nam…"
Tolu backed away, heart thundering. The only sound in the world was him.
Then the cafeteria doors burst open.
Mirabel stood there, arms extended, eyes glowing with fierce concentration. Swirling pink energy shimmered around her like soft lightning.
Moses and Emeka rushed in behind her.
"What the hell happened?" Moses asked, eyes scanning the frozen chaos—then landing on Ehimare. His eyes widened.
"Mirabel, how long can you hold this?" Emeka asked.
"Not long," she said through clenched teeth. "Everything's pushing against me. I can't freeze him… something's protecting him."
Moses knelt near Ehimare, listening to the last lines of the prophecy echoing from his mouth.
Tolu's voice was shaky. "He just—collapsed. Then started saying… that. I don't know how he knows it."
"Because someone—or something—is using him as a mouthpiece," Moses muttered.
"No one else here will understand this… but when time unfreezes, we have to be gone."
"I can get him," Emeka said, already moving to lift Ehimare.
Tolu looked at Mirabel. "Where do we go?"
Moses answered, eyes still on Ehimare. "Somewhere old. Somewhere forgotten. The Old Science Block. It's still warded—we'll be safe there."
Mirabel winced. "I'm letting go in five…"
Moses quickly sketched a glowing symbol on the floor—another cleansing rune—and whispered in the Tongue of the Dead:
> "Zan'el mori, ke'vra lun."
(Let this be forgotten, erased from time.)
"Two… one…"
Time snapped back.
Screams filled the air again. Phones recorded shaking frames. A cup finally hit the floor with a sharp crash. Students panicked—
But Tolu, Emeka, Moses, and Mirabel were gone.
The door creaked open, and they hurried inside.
Dust clung to the air like mist. The once-white tiles were cracked, the walls lined with cobwebs and broken shelves. It smelled of paper rot and old wires—but it was warded, forgotten, and more importantly, safe.
They laid Ehimare gently on a long, dust-covered science table. His body twitched, eyes still black as oil, lips whispering the words of that unnatural tongue.
Dark veins began to crawl up his arms, pulsing like living roots beneath his skin.
Tolu took a step back, breath shallow. "Moses… what's happening to him?"
Mirabel, standing close behind her, didn't speak. She watched the veins with wide eyes, pink energy flickering faintly in her fingertips, ready to act if she had to.
Emeka, leaning against the far wall, crossed his arms. He was tense, but calm—classic Emeka. "Whatever this is, it's not just magic. This is… something old."
Moses stepped forward, eyes fixed on Ehimare. He didn't speak for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, he said:
"First of all—we need to make sure Sunmi doesn't find out about this. Not yet. She'll panic—and if she panics…"
He didn't finish.
"Mirabel, give me a pen. And paper."
She fumbled her bag open, pulling out a notebook and a blue pen. Moses took them without looking away from Ehimare.
As the boy spoke, Moses began to write, line for line, his hand steady even as his eyes grew more and more unsettled. The room felt colder, heavier. Each word Moses scribbled down buzzed with a kind of dark weight, like they weren't just words—but warnings.
Then, Moses began to translate aloud:
> "From the heart of the void, a child will rise…
Cloaked in stillness, fed by shadowed cries.
Seven shall fall to become the gate—
Pillars of ruin, marked by fate."
He paused, swallowing.
> "One shall stand where all must kneel,
The Gate whose soul the dark shall steal.
The Darkness knows his ancient name—
And now it comes, to end the flame."
He stopped.
The pen dropped from his hand.
Tolu stepped forward. "Moses… that last part. That—was about you, wasn't it?"
Moses didn't meet her eyes. He stared at Ehimare, who now breathed shallowly, the veins retreating as the last words slipped from his lips like dying echoes.
Finally, he nodded.
"Yeah," he said, voice low.
"The Darkness is here," he said, almost to himself. "And it's coming for me… because it knows I'm the only one who can stop it."
Tolu looked from Ehimare—still unconscious and marked with crawling veins—back to Moses.
"Why?" she asked quietly. "Why is it coming for you?"
Moses didn't answer right away. His jaw clenched, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
"It's not important right now," he said finally. "What matters is healing him. If we don't help him soon, he might not live to write his next paper."
Mirabel blinked. "Okay… so, like, do we give him—painkillers? Sedatives? Something?"
The room went silent.
Everyone turned to her.
She raised her hands. "Sorry. Just trying to help."
Moses exhaled and looked at Ehimare again. "We need a healer. Or a priestess."
He turned to Tolu.
Slowly, everyone else did too.
Tolu froze. "What—me? I—I haven't even—"
"Babe," Emeka said gently, stepping forward and placing a steady hand on her shoulder. "I know you're scared. I know you're afraid of hurting someone. But not using your magic right now will hurt him for real."
She looked at him, eyes wide, heart pounding. She didn't feel ready. But Ehimare didn't have time for "ready."
Tolu closed her eyes, swallowed hard, then nodded.
She walked toward him slowly, almost reverently, her shoes brushing through the dust on the floor. She kneeled beside the table and gently unbuttoned the top of his school uniform.
The veins were already creeping up toward his heart, jagged and black like ink spilled underwater.
She placed her hands over his chest.
And then she began to speak—in Yoruba.
> "Ki okunkun yi pada si imole…
Ki rere bori ibi…
Pelu agbara awon orisha, mo fi e kuro ninu ewu."
(Let darkness be replaced by light.
Let good reign over evil.
With the power of the gods on me, I set you free.)
Her voice was steady.
Her eyes began to glow—a brilliant, molten gold. The same light poured from her palms, forming ancient patterns of protection as it sank into Ehimare's chest.
His body jolted once—twice—like something was being pulled out of him.
Then, the black veins began to retreat, dissolving beneath her touch like smoke in sunlight.
A breath escaped his lips, soft and clean. The shadows faded from his eyes.
He was asleep.
But he was safe.
Tolu slowly leaned back, the light in her eyes dimming. Her shoulders trembled—but she had done it.
Moses smiled softly. "You just saved his life."
Mirabel blinked away the shock. "Okay… remind me never to get on your bad side."
Emeka grinned. "Told you. You've got it."
Tolu didn't speak at first.
But as she looked at Ehimare's now-peaceful face… she smiled.
Just a litle .