Chapter 4: The First Dawn
1181 Words
Dawn broke dirty and grey over the deltas.
Ifeoluwa hadn’t slept. She’d sat in the mud until her legs went numb, staring at the spot where Kayode disappeared into the mist. The golden threads had dimmed to a dull throb—enough to remind her he was still out there, but not enough to drag her after him. Yet.
She wiped dried blood from her arm, wrapped the gash with a strip torn from her cloth, and stood. Every joint ached. Her head pounded in time with his distant heartbeat. She hated how familiar the rhythm was becoming.
No more running blind. If she was stuck with this curse, she needed answers. And the only place that might have them was the old spirit shrine at Eko’s Mouth—half-forgotten, half-cursed, but the one spot her mother used to whisper about when she thought no one was listening.
She dragged the canoe back to deeper water, climbed in, and pushed off. The current was sluggish here, forcing her to pole hard. Every stroke sent fresh pain up her arms, but she welcomed it. Pain meant she was still choosing something.
By mid-morning the mangroves thinned and the first bronze spires of the outer city appeared on the horizon—smaller, rougher than the capital, but still crawling with council eyes. She tied off under a low overhang, smeared river mud on her face and arms to dull the glow of the threads, and slipped ashore.
The market was waking. Vendors hawked smoked fish, palm wine, cheap charms against river spirits. Ifeoluwa kept her head down, moving fast toward the narrow alleys that led to the shrine.
She almost made it.
A hand clamped over her mouth from behind.
Another arm locked around her waist, yanking her into a shadowed doorway.
She bit down hard. Tasted blood. Kicked backward.
The grip only tightened.
“Quiet,” a voice hissed in her ear. “Or they’ll hear you.”
She froze. Not Kayode’s voice. Female. Low. Familiar in a way that made her stomach drop.
The arm released her. Ifeoluwa spun, dagger already out.
A woman stood there—tall, lean, skin the colour of polished teak, hair cropped close and threaded with silver beads. A thin scar ran from her left temple to her jaw. Eyes sharp as river knives.
Aunty Temi.
Her mother’s old second-in-command. The one who vanished the night the council came for the family.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Ifeoluwa said flatly.
“Many people are supposed to be dead.” Temi’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “You look like hell, girl.”
“You look like you’ve been hiding for ten years.”
“Longer than that.” Temi glanced toward the street, then pulled Ifeoluwa deeper into the doorway. “We don’t have time for reunion. The Ember Lord’s mark is screaming across half the delta. Every spirit-touched within fifty miles can feel it. Including the ones who want him dead.”
Ifeoluwa’s pulse kicked. “Who?”
“Old enemies. New ones. Doesn’t matter. They’re coming.” Temi’s gaze dropped to the golden threads peeking through the mud on Ifeoluwa’s wrist. “And they’ll kill you to get to him.”
Ifeoluwa yanked her sleeve down. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“Nobody asks for fate.” Temi’s voice hardened. “But you’ve got it now. And if you want to live past sundown, you need to move. The shrine’s not safe anymore—not with that glow on you.”
“Then where?”
Temi jerked her head toward the back alley. “My boat. Hidden at the old docks. We head upriver, away from the patrols. Buy time.”
Ifeoluwa hesitated. Trust was a luxury she’d lost years ago.
But the threads pulsed again—sharper this time. A warning. Kayode was moving. Fast. Toward her.
She cursed under her breath. “Fine. But if you’re lying—”
“I’m not.” Temi’s scar twitched. “Your mother made me swear I’d watch for you if the bond ever woke. I’ve been waiting a long time.”
The words landed like stones. Ifeoluwa swallowed the sudden burn in her throat.
“Lead.”
They slipped through the alleys, dodging merchants and stray dogs, until they reached a crumbling dock half-sunk in green water. A narrow, flat-bottomed skiff waited, covered with reed mats. Temi shoved the mats aside, revealing a small outboard motor—black-market, quiet, fast.
They pushed off without a word.
The skiff cut through the water, heading north toward the narrower tributaries. Ifeoluwa sat in the bow, dagger across her knees, scanning the banks. Temi steered from the stern, eyes never leaving the horizon.
An hour passed. Then two.
The threads stayed quiet. Too quiet.
Ifeoluwa turned. “You feel that?”
Temi nodded once. “We’re not alone.”
Ahead, the river bent around a low island thick with palms. Shadows moved under the trees—too many, too deliberate.
Figures stepped onto the bank. Six. Armed with machetes and short spears. Their skin shimmered with faint blue markings—river-spirit tattoos. Hunters. The kind who sold bound souls to the highest bidder.
One raised a hand. A net of woven silver thread shot across the water, arcing toward the skiff.
Temi gunned the motor. The skiff lurched forward.
The net missed by inches, slapping into the water with a hiss.
Ifeoluwa stood, gripping the side. “They’re after the bond.”
“No s**t,” Temi snapped. “Hold on.”
She veered hard left, cutting toward the island’s far side. The hunters shouted, splashing into the shallows after them.
Ifeoluwa’s wrist flared hot. The threads brightened—blinding.
And then she felt him.
Kayode.
Close.
A burst of crimson light erupted from the opposite bank.
Kayode landed on the island in a crouch, robe whipping, ember scars blazing. He straightened slowly, eyes locked on the hunters.
They froze.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.
One hunter lunged anyway.
Kayode moved like smoke. One step. One swing of his arm. Fire uncoiled from his palm—sharp, controlled—and the man went down screaming, flames licking up his spear.
The others scattered.
Kayode turned. Looked straight at the skiff.
Straight at her.
The bond sang—loud, insistent, pulling so hard Ifeoluwa staggered.
Temi cursed. “We can’t outrun him.”
Ifeoluwa stared across the water.
He didn’t move toward them.
He just stood there, chest rising and falling, eyes never leaving hers.
Waiting.
Again.
Ifeoluwa’s hands clenched on the skiff’s edge.
She had a choice.
Jump into the water and swim to him.
Or tell Temi to keep going.
The threads burned brighter, urging her forward.
She looked at Temi. “Don’t stop.”
Temi nodded once. The motor roared.
The skiff shot past the island.
Kayode watched them go.
He didn’t chase.
But the bond didn’t quiet.
It only grew louder.
And somewhere deep inside her chest, a small, traitorous part wondered how long she could keep saying no.
- Writer
