SCARS

THE AWAKENING

CHAPTER 2

Jide woke with a violent scream.

His body jolted upright, drenched in sweat, as though the flames of the forest still licked his skin. The room was dark, but the darkness offered no comfort. His sheets clung damp against his trembling body, and the sound of his own ragged breathing filled the silence.

Then he saw them.

Angry red marks stretched across his chest and arms, deep, raw scars that pulsed with a pain he could not explain. He reached for them with shaking fingers, tracing the uneven lines. His skin burned as though the fire from the dream still consumed him.

“What is this?” His voice cracked in the empty room. “What’s happening to me?”

He stumbled out of bed, his legs unsteady. In the mirror across from him, the man who stared back was not the invincible cult leader he had always known. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin ashen, his body marked by something greater than he could understand. For the first time in years, Jide felt weak. Vulnerable. Mortal.

The shrill tone of his phone jolted him. He snatched it up with trembling hands.

“Hello?” His voice was hoarse. “Bruno… please…”

Bruno’s voice came through, casual and full of arrogance. “Baba Jakulus! We don capture that stubborn guy. He dey carbal now. We dey wait for you.”

The words pierced him like ice. His nightmare replayed in fragments, he pictured the fire, the thunder, James’s unflinching eyes, his final words about the Captain. Jide’s breathing grew shallow. The scars on his body throbbed in rhythm with his heartbeat, each pulse a reminder that the dream was no dream at all.

For a moment, he could not speak. The silence on the line stretched until Bruno’s tone sharpened. “Baba? You dey hear me so?”

Jide swallowed hard. “I… I’ll be there.”

He ended the call and collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in his scarred hands. His heart pounded, not with the thrill of conquest as it once did, but with a fear he could not shake.

---

The next day, Bruno watched him closely.

Jide had always been a storm; Commanding, merciless, untouchable. But now there was something fragile in his eyes, something restless in his movements. He walked as though the shadows pressed in on him, as though every sound carried a hidden threat.

Bruno smirked. Weakness.

For months, he had bided his time, loyal on the surface but hungering for the throne of leadership. He had served Jide faithfully, but envy had gnawed at his soul. Now, as he watched the man he once revered wrestle with invisible chains, he knew his chance was near.

But not yet. Not until the right moment.

He would wait.

---

That night, Jide could not sleep. Every time his eyes closed, he was back in the forest. The thunder split the sky. Flames descended. James’s words rang in his head with the weight of prophecy:

“You may kill me out of your wicked heart, but beware. When my Captain comes, your blood will dry, your teeth will gnash, and you will beg for life but find none.”

The words followed him into his waking hours, echoing even as he clutched his scars, even as he tried to convince himself he was still in control. But deep inside, he knew the truth.

The Lion of Judah was coming for him.

And nothing! no weapon, no ritual, no chant of the Black Heart, could stop it.