A TOUCH TOO ELECTRIC
1095 Words
The night air in Lagos was heavy, charged like the sky before a thunderstorm. Ama stood by her window, the lingering warmth of Kyen’s kiss still pulsing through her like an echo. She pressed her fingertips to the spiral mark glowing faintly beneath her collarbone.
She could still feel him.
Outside, the streetlights flickered. Power surges were normal in the city, but this wasn’t NEPA. This was something else.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number. One message.
Midnight. Come alone. Don’t tell Kyen.
There was no location. Just a name.
Room 404.
She stared at the message, heart thudding.
Room 404 didn’t exist.
---
The hotel was older than she remembered. It had been abandoned years ago after a fire gutted its top floor. Locals called it cursed. Ghosted. A building the city forgot.
Yet here it was—lit from within. Flickering lights bleeding from the cracks in the windows.
Ama pushed through the revolving door. Dust and perfume. The scent of memories. The lobby was empty.
The elevator creaked when she stepped inside, its buttons rusted. But one still glowed.
4.
She pressed it.
The ride was slow. Painfully slow.
And then—
The lights inside the elevator sparked violently. A surge of power zapped the panel, and every light flared at once.
Ama gasped and grabbed the handrail.
Her mark burned.
And for a moment, she saw her reflection in the mirrored wall—
Not her.
Someone older. Stronger. Her hair wild, her eyes glowing silver. A woman who looked like a goddess of storms.
Then the elevator dinged.
Level Four.
She stepped out into silence. The hallway stretched before her—carpet scorched, wallpaper peeling. Room 404 was at the very end.
She reached it.
Knocked once.
The door creaked open.
Inside: a single lightbulb swinging from the ceiling. A table. Two chairs. A woman sat in one, shrouded in a purple shawl, her skin deep bronze, her dreadlocks streaked with white.
“Sit,” the woman said without looking.
Ama obeyed.
“You don’t know me, Amaechi, but I’ve known you since the womb.”
Ama tensed. “Who are you?”
The woman opened her palm and revealed an old key.
“The truth lies where your mother buried it. Beneath ash and oath.”
“My mother?”
“She broke the covenant to protect you. But the night remembers. And so do I.”
Ama reached for the key.
The moment her skin touched it, electricity surged through her veins.
Visions flashed—
Flames. A crying baby. A woman screaming beneath a blood moon. The spiral mark seared onto skin.
She gasped, yanking her hand away.
The woman looked at her now. Her eyes were pure white.
“You have less time than you think. The boy of shadow wants your heart. The prince of flame wants your blood. And the mirror will not protect you much longer.”
Ama stood, dazed. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Go to the place where your father died. The truth waits there.”
“My father died in a car crash.”
“No,” the woman whispered. “He died stopping the veil from splitting.”
Ama backed away.
The room flickered.
The woman was gone.
Only the key remained on the table.
And carved into the door behind her—
RUN.
---
Ama didn’t sleep.
She paced. She wrote everything down. She searched her old files, her father’s belongings, the news clippings.
There it was: a remote stretch of road outside Epe. No crash site. Just… disappearance. An unexplained fire.
She needed Kyen.
---
He answered his phone on the second ring. “I felt the surge. Where are you?”
“I saw someone. A woman. She said my mother broke the covenant. That my father didn’t die in a crash.”
Silence.
“Where did she send you?” he asked.
“I need to go to the old road near Epe.”
“I’ll come to you.”
“No. She said not to tell you. That the mirror won't protect me.”
Kyen’s voice changed. Low. Cold. “She wasn’t wrong.”
Ama shivered. “What does that mean?”
“You’re not safe, Ama. Not even from me.”
The line went dead.
---
Dawn was breaking when Ama reached the outskirts of Epe. The road was overgrown, the trees twisted as if something had melted them. Crows circled above, silent.
She followed the path.
Halfway down, her mark pulsed. She stumbled to her knees.
A shadow stepped out from behind a tree.
Not Kyen.
Lucien.
He was tall, beautiful, cruel. Hair like ink. Eyes like cut onyx.
“You shouldn’t be here alone,” he said, voice velvet and danger.
“Who are you?”
“Someone who knew your father. Someone who tried to save him.”
“You’re from the court.”
“I am the court,” he replied.
He stepped closer, and the air shimmered.
“You are light born of night, Amaechi. A fracture made flesh. And the prophecy…”
He brushed her cheek.
“...chose you.”
She slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
Lucien smiled. “Your fire is beautiful. So was your mother’s. So was his.”
Ama gasped. “You knew them?”
“More than knew. I loved her. And I killed him.”
Before she could move, Kyen was there.
He slammed into Lucien, shadows bursting around them. Their powers clashed—one dark, one deeper.
Ama screamed.
The trees around them caught fire.
A shockwave sent her flying.
---
She woke to silence.
Lucien was gone.
Kyen knelt beside her, blood on his temple.
“You okay?”
She nodded, dazed.
He looked shaken. “He should not have found you. Not this soon.”
“Who is he?”
“A prince. Of the first dark. One who wants the mark you carry. The mark your mother carved from her own skin to protect you.”
Ama blinked. “She… what?”
Kyen cupped her face. “There’s more, but not here. You need to rest.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” she asked.
“Because if I told you who you are… the night would come for you faster.”
Her voice trembled. “And now?”
His eyes softened. “Now, it’s too late to hide.”
Lightning split the sky.
In the flash, she saw something behind the trees.
Another mirror.
It was waiting.
---
- Writer
