FIRE AND ICE

ECLIPSE

Day Four was quiet. Too quiet.

The handprint was ice cold all day. Like freezer cold. Grandmother said that's good, but Elias said too cold is also not good — frozen things crack, remember?

"We need middle," Elias said at breakfast. "Not warm, not frozen. Cool. Like morning."

But how to make middle when tomorrow is eclipse and everyone is scared?

Kael's parents spent Day Four packing small bag. Not to leave, but in case. "If eclipse fails, Joren comes, we must run to Malaysia campus," Femi said. "Nottingham has no Veils. University Park is safe."

Mom heard Malaysia and looked at me sharp. "Ava is not going to Malaysia."

"Not Ava," Adunni said gently, touching Mom's hand. Water and Water — they understood each other, two mothers who lost children to Veils. "Just us. If we must. To draw him away from children."

Kael heard that and his fire flared, big, for first time since Day Two.

"No. No one leaves. We close it. Tomorrow. Together."

We pinky-touched. Steam, but worried steam, thin.

Grandmother watched our steam. "Thin today. You are anxious. That's normal before eclipse. Go do normal things. Boring things."

So we did boring. Kael helped Amaka pound yam — his fire warmed the mortar and Amaka said he is better than machine. I did online maths homework — Grandmother corrected it and said Atlantic Hall maths is too easy, she taught harder in 1970s.

At 4 PM, we all sat in garden again because handprint was warmer when we stayed inside too long. Outside, cool.

Tola called again, but Grandmother had blocked her number temporarily with ice on SIM. "After eclipse," she promised me. "You can explain boy."

At 6 PM, eclipse news came on TV. Channels TV anchor: _"Tomorrow, October 3rd, Lagosians will witness rare solar eclipse, 90% coverage at 2:03 PM. Experts advise not to look directly -"_

Mom turned TV off.

Day Five. Eclipse Day. Day Five of Seven.

We woke at 6 AM to sky already strange. Not dark, but yellow. Like filter.

NEPA light was off again. Generator on.

Elias gathered us in handprint room at 12 PM, two hours before eclipse. Painting removed. Ash hand was now pulsing visibly. Warm, cold, warm, cold, like heartbeat that can't decide.

"Listen," Elias said. He was wearing full white, like priest. Grandmother also white. "At 2:03 PM, when moon covers sun most, you two will stand here, in front of this, and make True Steam. Not soft. True. Like you made in Hollow to save them."

He pointed to Kael's parents, who held each other tight.

"How?" I asked, voice shaking. My ice was spreading on floor without permission.

"Feel," Grandmother said again. "But this time, not boring. All. Everything. Fear, joy, anger, love — balanced. If one feels more than other, Steam breaks."

Kael looked at me. "We balanced in Hollow because we were both scared to die. Now?"

"Now we are both scared to live without closing it," I said.

He nodded. His amber eyes were all fire, no brown today.

1:30 PM, sky went grey-yellow. Dogs started barking in Lekki, far away, but we heard.

1:45 PM, handprint got HOT. Really hot. Ash started falling off it like real snow, but hot snow, burning floor.

Grandmother put ice wall around it, but ash melted ice.

"Too early!" Elias shouted. "It's responding to eclipse starting!"

Kael grabbed my hands, both hands, not pinky, both. "Ava, look at me, not it."

I looked. His face was sweaty, fire hair starting.

"Remember Day Three mango tree?" he said fast. "Remember Day One toast? Remember when you wrote about me in chemistry?"

I laughed, even though I wanted to cry. Ice and fire burst.

Steam started. Small.

1:55 PM, sky dark. Not night dark. Eclipse dark. Like someone dimmed sun.

Amaka was praying in Yoruba in corner. Mom was holding Kael's mother. Femi was holding my mom. Grandmother and Elias had hands on wall, trying to keep room from burning.

Handprint now was not handprint. It was hole. Ash hand reached OUT.

Fingers, real fingers made of ash and fire, reaching for us.

"NOW!" Grandmother screamed.

Kael and I didn't kiss. Not yet. We pressed foreheads together, like in Hollow, fire and ice, and we thought of everything —

Toast burning, mango sour, Tola screaming about boy, Amaka's spoon, maths exam, his snore fire, my frozen curtains, his parents crying, my mom's scared face, Grandmother young again, Eclipse yellow sky -

And we FELT.

True Steam exploded.

Not soft. Not cloud. PILLAR. White, hot, cold, both, spinning around us, around room, eating ash fingers, eating heat.

I heard Joren scream. Not from handprint. From everywhere. From 13 Veils in Lagos at once.

"NO! NOT YET! I AM NOT DONE EATING!"

Kael shouted back, voice not his, voice full fire: "YOU ARE DONE!"

And I shouted, ice crown full on my head: "CLOSE!"

We kissed.

Not soft almost-kiss like Day Three. Real kiss, in middle of True Steam pillar, fire boy and ice girl, and Steam went supernova white.

Light so bright everyone closed eyes.

When we opened, it was 2:04 PM.

Sky still dim, but handprint -

Handprint was gone.

Not cold. Not warm. Gone. Wall was normal white wall, with faint water stain where ash was.

No pulse. No heartbeat.

Grandmother fell to knees, touching wall with both hands. "Cold... normal cold. Not ice cold. Wall cold. It's closed."

Elias checked his maps. The four echo prints he marked — he had Amaka's cousin check via video call at Corona School playground, Mushin Market, Tafawa Balewa.

All gone. Just faint white stain.

Kael and I were still holding, kissing, steam around us soft now, like blanket, like after.

Mom coughed loud. "Ava. The eclipse is still happening. And you are kissing a boy in front of your grandmother."

We jumped apart, but kept holding hands. Steam stayed. True Steam stayed even after kiss. Low, soft, permanent.

Kael looked at his hands. Fire still there, but calmer. No wild bursts.

I looked at mine. Ice still there, but not freezing everything.

Balanced. Even without touching.

"We are stable," Grandmother whispered, touching our steam with her own ice. Her ice didn't melt. Our steam didn't break. "You did it. Powers stable."

From outside, we heard Lagos shouting — people seeing eclipse end, cheering.

Inside, we were quiet.

Then Amaka shouted, "JOLLOF IS BURNING BECAUSE NEPA TOOK LIGHT AND I WAS PRAYING!"

We all laughed, and laughed, and Kael's parents hugged us, both of us at once, and Mom hugged me and Kael together even though she said no boys.

Day Five done.

Handprint closed forever.

But Joren's scream — from everywhere — we all heard.

He is still out there. In other Hollow castles. With other Veils.

Eclipse over Lagos closed. But what about Jos? What about Kano? What about other 9 Veils in Lagos we didn't know?

Grandmother looked at Elias over our heads.

"This was one city," she mouthed. "Twelve cities left."

Elias nodded. "After seven days."

Kael squeezed my hand. Our Steam glowed a little brighter, like it heard.

Two days left of seven. But Veil closed.

For now.