Y
Temitope stepped into the room, holding a small wooden box in both hands.
"I brought the item," she said softly.
Yeye looked up and smiled. "Good. Tolu, this is my daughter, Temitope."
Tolu nodded slightly, and Temitope handed her mother the box. For a brief moment, her eyes lingered on him — curious, uncertain — as her mother's earlier warnings echoed in her mind. Then, without a word, she turned and left.
Yeye placed the box before Tolu. "Open it."
Inside lay a simple necklace — a worn leather cord holding a dark stone pendant that seemed to pulse faintly under the lantern's light.
"This was on your great-great-grandfather," Yeye said.
Tolu looked up. "What is it?"
She smiled, the kind that held both warmth and mystery. "That, I don't know. He only said I should keep it safe. But the necklace bears your family's mark — anyone who sees it would know who your ancestor was."
Tolu frowned slightly. "Then it'd be foolish to wear it."
Yeye chuckled. "Yes… it would. But it's yours. Keep it. It might be a source of power — or just a keepsake. Either way, it belongs to you."
He nodded slowly, closing the box. "Alright."
She reached beside her chair and brought out a bracelet — beads woven with cowries, faintly glowing. "Take this too. It'll help you find your own. It shakes when it senses good potential — those with the blood strong enough to become ancients."
Tolu took it, feeling its subtle vibration in his palm. "Thank you… for helping me."
Yeye smiled, her gaze deep and knowing. "Don't worry about that, child. Just be ready. The hunt never truly ends."
He bowed slightly and left, the box and bracelet in hand — unaware that, somewhere behind the curtain, Temitope was still watching him go.
---
Evening settled over the clearing, the forest dim and golden beneath the dying light. The training ground was silent now — only the rustle of leaves and their slowing breaths filled the air.
Tolu and Amara lay side by side, heads close but facing opposite directions, their bodies sprawled in the soft carpet of fallen leaves. The scent of earth and sweat mixed with the quiet calm that came after every session.
Tolu broke the silence first.
"You remember Ore?" he asked. His voice was steady, but there was a hint of weight beneath it.
Amara turned her head slightly, looking up at the branches above. "The girl who left?"
"Yeah," he said. "She didn't really have a choice. I told her to go. It wasn't safe anymore."
He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "There's something I haven't told you. I… I might be dangerous to anyone close to me. If the wrong people find out who I am, or what I am—"
Amara cut him off with a soft laugh. "You worry too much."
He blinked. "You don't get it—"
"I do," she said, still smiling. "But I also know this — I feel safest when I'm beside you. Even when you push me too hard, even when I can barely move after training… I still feel at peace."
Tolu turned his gaze to her, studying the faint smile on her face, the dried leaves caught in her hair. For a moment, his chest tightened — a rare mix of pride and fear.
She's loyal… too loyal, he thought. I just hope I can protect her when the time comes.
Amara shifted slightly. "So… when are you going to turn others? You've been saying 'soon' for weeks."
He glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist — the one with the beads and cowries Yeye gave him. It hadn't moved once.
"Soon," he said quietly. "The bracelet will help me find the right ones. Until then… I'll wait."
The forest breeze passed through, stirring the leaves between them. Amara closed her eyes, smiling faintly. Tolu looked at her once more, then at the horizon — the sun sinking like a smoldering ember — and wondered how long their peace would last.
---
Night had barely lifted when Alamu gathered his pack. The air was thick with unease, the kind that clung to the skin before a storm.
They stood outside the half-broken warehouse they had been using as shelter. Crates were being loaded into the back of two pickup trucks — hurriedly, without much talk.
Alamu watched them, his expression hard. The faint scar over his brow caught the early light.
One of his men, Kunle, approached him.
"We've packed everything, Alpha. But… are you sure about this? Leaving now?"
Alamu's eyes swept over the trees beyond the compound — dark, endless, hiding too many things.
"Yes," he said flatly. "Before we can't."
Kunle frowned. "You think they'll come this far?"
"I don't think," Alamu replied. "I know."
He turned to the rest of the pack. "We're moving back to the city. We'll regroup, keep a low profile. If we stay here, we'll draw attention — and attention is death."
A tense silence followed. Even the younger wolves, who usually joked or complained, were quiet. They felt it too — something was shifting.
As engines roared to life, Alamu climbed into the lead truck. He gave one last look at the forest behind them.
The place had once felt like safety — now it only felt like a trap waiting to close.
"Let's go," he muttered.
The convoy rolled out, tires crunching over gravel, headlights slicing through the mist. The forest swallowed the sound behind them as if it had never existed.
---
The office was dimly lit, the only light coming from the amber glow of a table lamp. Papers and old maps of territories were scattered across the desk. The smell of tobacco and aged whiskey hung in the air.
Tade sat behind the desk, lost in thought, when Ige walked in quietly.
"You still awake?" Ige asked, pulling a chair.
Tade didn't look up. "Couldn't sleep."
Ige sat, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "I've been thinking about that boy — Tolu."
That made Tade glance up. "What about him?"
"He's different," Ige said. "I can feel it. His energy—it's not like any alpha I've sensed before. He turned one girl, right?"
Tade nodded. "Yes. Just one."
"That's the problem," Ige replied. "Either he doesn't know how to control his power yet… or he's being cautious. Either way, he's alone. And an alpha without a pack is an open wound in our world."
Tade exhaled, rubbing his temples. "You want to help him build one?"
Ige smiled faintly. "Help him select who to turn. If he's careful about it, we could make sure those wolves are… cooperative. Trained. Loyal to him—and friendly to us."
Tade leaned back in his chair, considering it. "You're thinking alliance."
"I'm thinking survival," Ige said plainly. "With what's coming, we'll need him as much as he'll need us. Besides…" He paused, voice lowering. "I've heard whispers that Alamu's moving his pack back to the city. Something's stirring. I don't like it."
Tade looked out the window at the night sky, silent for a moment. Then he said quietly,
"Reach out to him. Offer training, advice—whatever you have to. But do it subtly. He's young, and young wolves don't trust easily."
Ige nodded, rising from his seat. "Understood."
He headed for the door, then stopped and looked back.
"If he's really what I think he is, Tade… the boy could change everything."
Tade's gaze darkened. "Then we better be on the right side when he does."