Morning never truly came.
A pale, uncertain light crept into the Stronghold, touching stone without warming it. The sanctuary felt hollow now—spent. The serpent murals had gone still, their eyes dull, their promise fulfilled and exhausted. Whatever covenant had once lived here had taken its due and withdrawn.
Seyi sat alone near the altar, legs folded, blade resting across his knees. He breathed evenly. Too evenly.
Imade watched him from across the chamber. "He no blink," she murmured.
Adaeze's jaw tightened. "He no even shake."
Ngozi approached carefully, prayer beads trembling in her hands. "Seyi," she said softly, "how you dey feel?"
He looked up. His eyes were calm—empty of the small flinches that made a person human. "I dey fine," he replied. "Better than before."
That was what frightened them.
The elder broke the silence with a weary sigh. "Shadow-mark remove fear, but e also remove restraint. Fear na boundary. Without am, will become blade without sheath."
Seyi tilted his head. "Fear hold me back before. Now I see clear."
"Clear enough to kill without pause?" Adaeze shot back.
"If need be," he said simply.
The words landed like stone.
Imade stepped forward, forcing her voice steady. "We no dey fight like abyss. We still human."
Seyi met her gaze, unblinking. "Human dey choose. I choose effectiveness."
Somewhere deep within the tunnels, stone cracked.
They left the Stronghold at first tremor.
The sanctuary did not protest. It did not protect. It simply let them go.
Outside, the island felt wrong—too quiet, too aware. The jungle leaned inward, leaves shivering though no wind blew. The sky hung low, bruised purple and gray.
Zoba halted suddenly, pendant thrumming violently. "Orunmare no dey follow us," she said. "E dey wait."
"For what?" Olumide asked.
"For us to break ourselves," she answered.
They had not gone far when it happened.
A shadow burst from the undergrowth—fast, feral, half-formed. An abyssal scout, thin as hunger, claws already extended.
Before anyone could react, Seyi moved.
One step.
One strike.
The creature fell apart mid-scream, split cleanly from shoulder to waist. No hesitation. No breath held. No recoil.
Blood steamed on the forest floor.
Silence followed.
Adaeze stared at the corpse—then at Seyi. "You didn't wait."
"There was no reason to," he replied.
Imade felt something fracture in her chest. "You didn't check if it could speak. Or retreat."
Seyi wiped his blade calmly. "Abyss no deserve mercy."
The twins exchanged glances.
Kafé whispered, "That thing wasn't attacking yet."
Taye added softly, "Fear would have slowed him
That night, they made camp beneath twisted roots.
Sleep did not come easily.
Imade woke to movement and found Seyi standing at the edge of the firelight, staring into darkness.
"What you dey watch?" she asked.
"Possibilities," he answered. "Paths where we win."
She rose, stepping beside him. "And paths where we lose?"
He paused. For the first time since the ritual, something flickered—confusion, perhaps. "Those don't matter."
Imade's voice softened. "Everything matter. Even fear."
Seyi looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers slowly. "If fear return," he said, almost curious, "will it make me weaker?"
"No," she replied. "E go make you choose."
Far away, Orunmare watched through borrowed eyes.
Not Seyi's.
Yet.
"He carry my mark but not my leash," Orunmare mused. "Interesting."
The shadow lord leaned forward, amused. "Let dem argue. Let dem doubt. Blade that cut fastest often turn inward first."
Thunder rolled across the island, slow and deliberate.
Ahead of the Resistance lay the fractured Pathway—the place where sealing or surrender would be decided.
Behind them walked a man without fear.
And for the first time, even the abyss waited to see which way he would fall.