ILLUMINE

Chapter Three

In a dimly lit room shrouded in shadows, the air was thick with the smell of incense and the faint metallic tang of blood. The space was vast, its walls lined with black velvet drapes that absorbed the light of flickering candles scattered around. At the center of the room was a long, obsidian table, surrounded by the most powerful and influential figures in Kova. They were the elites—politicians, clergy, and businessmen—whose public personas radiated virtue but whose private lives were steeped in darkness.

At the head of the table sat Pastor Adrian Obanor, a man revered by the masses for his charismatic sermons and strong belief in evil. His dark, piercing eyes scanned the room with quiet authority, a smirk playing on his lips as he tapped his fingers rhythmically against the table. Despite his outward piety, he was the undisputed leader of this cult, a servant of an ancient, malevolent spirit that had bound itself to Kova’s fate.

“Brothers and sisters,” Adrian began, his voice smooth and commanding. “Tonight, as always, we gather to renew our covenant with the force that has gifted us with power, wealth, and influence. Let us not forget that it is through its guidance that we control this city, that we dictate its destiny.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room. The attendees, clad in dark robes, leaned forward, their faces obscured by the shadows.

Adrian continued, his tone growing sharper. “But power demands sacrifice. The spirit’s will is clear: three young men, innocent and untouched, must be offered. Their blood shall be our sustenance, their lives the price of our dominion.”

A low hum filled the room as a sense of anticipation settled over the group. Two hooded figures stepped forward, dragging three trembling young men into the circle. Their faces were streaked with tears, their pleas for mercy ignored. The elites watched impassively as Adrian raised his hands in invocation, chanting in a language long forgotten by most.

The air grew colder, and an unnatural darkness seemed to seep from the ground. The men’s screams were swallowed by the oppressive atmosphere as Adrian plunged a ceremonial dagger into each of their hearts. The attendees stepped forward, each taking a goblet and dipping it into the crimson pool that spread across the altar. They drank deeply, their eyes gleaming with unholy light.

Adrian set his goblet down and addressed the room once more. “The spirit has spoken to me,” he said. “It has whispered secrets of governance, of control. We must ensure that the people of Kova remain dependent and weak, their suffering fueling our ascent.”

One of the attendees, a high-ranking government official, nodded. “The new policies are already in place. The masses will cry out for relief, but we will keep them desperate. It is the only way to maintain order.”

Adrian’s gaze shifted to a man seated at the far end of the table. His thin frame was hunched over, his hands trembling as he clutched a small vial filled with a dark, viscous liquid. It was the president of Kova, a man whose addiction to the substance provided by the cult had made him a puppet to their whims.

“Mr. President,” Adrian said, his voice laced with mockery. “You have not forgotten your oath, have you?”

The president shook his head, his eyes darting nervously. “No, Pastor. I remain loyal. Always.”

“Good,” Adrian replied, his smirk widening. “The spirit rewards loyalty.”

The room fell silent as the ritual concluded. The attendees began to rise, their movements deliberate and measured. Adrian watched them leave, his mind already calculating their next moves. Kova was his chessboard, and every piece was under his control.

As the last of the elites exited, Adrian turned to the altar, his expression softening into one of reverence. “Speak to me, master,” he murmured. “Guide us as you have always done.”

The candles flickered, and for a moment, a voice whispered through the chamber. It was low and guttural, its words indistinct but laden with malice. Adrian closed his eyes, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. The game continued, and he was determined to win.

**** **** ****

Night fell on Illumine as he sat awkwardly at the edge of the living room, his eyes darting between Nkem and her mother, who stood with arms crossed and a stern expression etched onto her face. The tension in the room was palpable, broken only by the soft rustling of Lion, now curled at Illumine’s feet.

“Explain yourself,” the woman demanded, her voice firm and unwavering. She was tall and commanding, her dark skin glowing in the warm light of the small house. Her wrapper, patterned with vibrant hues of orange and gold, accentuated her regal demeanor.

Nkem shifted uncomfortably. “Mama, I was going to—”

“Quiet, Nkem,” her mother interrupted sharply, silencing her with a wave of her hand. Her attention snapped back to Illumine. “Who are you, and why are you here?”

“I’m an angel,” Illumine replied earnestly, his gaze steady but tired. “I live with the Holy One and the angels. But for some reason, I’m here now.”

The woman’s brow furrowed, skepticism clouding her expression. “Angels don’t eat,” she said flatly. “And yet, here you are, sitting in my house, looking no different than a lost boy.”

Before Illumine could answer, the woman placed a large, steaming bowl of food on the table before him. The dish, called Zokala, was a rich stew of deep crimson, filled with chunks of tender meat and vibrant vegetables floating in a thick, aromatic broth. It was served with soft, golden dumplings that glistened with a light coating of oil.

Illumine’s eyes widened, his stomach rumbling audibly. Without hesitation, he picked up a spoon and began eating, his movements hurried and ravenous. The flavors exploded on his tongue, unlike anything he had ever tasted. Sweet, spicy, and savory notes melded together in perfect harmony.

“Thank you,” he mumbled between bites, barely pausing to breathe.

The woman watched him, her arms still crossed. “You claim to be an angel,” she said, her tone sharp. “But angels don’t eat like this.”

Illumine looked up, his mouth still full. “I know,” he said after swallowing. “But I’m different. I don’t know why, but I am.”

The woman snorted. “Different, indeed. Tell me, if you’re an angel, why are you not in any of the holy books? I’ve read them all, and I’ve never heard of an angel like you.”

Illumine paused, considering her question. “Not all angels are in the holy books,” he explained. “The Holy One said so Himself. There are many of us, each with different roles. Some are known, and others… remain unseen.”

The woman’s skepticism didn’t waver, but she said nothing, watching as Illumine continued to eat. He finished the first bowl and, without hesitation, held it out. “May I have more, please?”

Nkem’s mouth dropped open. “More? You already finished that whole bowl!”

Illumine nodded earnestly. “It’s very good. I’ve never had anything like this before.”

The woman sighed, taking the bowl and refilling it. She set it down with a sharp clink, her eyes narrowing. “I’ll give you more, but you’ll answer this: what can you do to prove you’re truly an angel?”

Illumine froze, his spoon hovering mid-air. His mind raced, but no answer came. All his life, his brother Gavriel had been the one with power, the one who performed miracles and wielded divine strength. Illumine had nothing.

“I… I can’t,” he admitted quietly, lowering his gaze. “I don’t have any powers.”

The woman smirked, her tone laced with vindication. “Just as I thought.”

Illumine’s shoulders sagged, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He had no defense, no way to prove his identity. He focused on the bowl before him, eating in silence.

“You can stay here for the night,” the woman said finally, her tone softening just slightly. “But tomorrow, we’ll call your parents.”

“I don’t have parents, that's what I have been telling you,” Illumine said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The woman paused, her expression unreadable. She sighed and said firmly “Either way,” by tomorrow, you’re out of my house.”

Later that night, Illumine lay on a thin mattress in a small, dimly lit room. The walls were bare, save for a single window that let in the faint glow of the moon. Lion curled up at his feet, its breathing steady and rhythmic. Before he closed his eyes, Illumine clasped his hands together and prayed softly, his voice barely audible.

“Holy One, guide me,” he whispered. “I don’t know why I’m here, but I trust Your plan. Keep me strong.”

As he drifted to sleep, a strange warmth spread through his body. Hours later, in the dead of night, a soft, radiant light began to emanate from him. The glow seeped through the cracks of the door and spilled into the hallway, casting long, ethereal shadows.

In her room, Nkem’s mother stirred, her eyes fluttering open. The light’s reflection danced on her walls, and she frowned, rising from her bed. As she stepped into the hallway, she found Nkem standing there, her face lit with confusion.

“Mama,” Nkem whispered. “The light woke me up. It’s so bright.”

“Stay close and do not touch anything,” her mother said, her voice low but steady. Together, they followed the source of the glow to Illumine’s room. The door creaked open, and both women gasped at the sight before them.

Illumine lay on the bed, his body glowing with a soft, golden light. His face was peaceful, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The room was bathed in the radiant glow, the air feeling warm and serene.

Nkem took a step back, her eyes wide. “Mama… is he an angel?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her mother said nothing, her gaze fixed on Illumine. Slowly, she reached out and touched the edge of the doorframe, as if grounding herself in reality. For the first time since meeting him, doubt crept into her skepticism. This boy, this strange and hungry boy, was unlike anything she had ever seen.

The light began to fade, and the room returned to darkness. Nkem’s mother exhaled deeply, turning to her daughter. “Go back to bed,” she said, her voice softer than before. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

Nkem hesitated but nodded, retreating to her room. Her mother lingered for a moment longer, her thoughts racing. Finally, she closed the door and walked away, leaving Illumine to rest, the image of his glowing form etched into her mind.

The following morning, Nkem and her mother sat across from Illumine in the living room. The early sunlight filtered through the windows, illuminating their tense faces.

“What we saw last night,” Nkem’s mother began, her voice quieter than usual, “it was… unlike anything I’ve ever seen. What was that light?”

Illumine fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Sometimes, strange things happen around me. But it doesn’t mean anything. I’ve been like this for as long as I can remember.”

“Angels don’t sleep or glow in their sleep,” Nkem added, her voice tinged with nervousness. “At least, I don’t think they do.”

“I told you,” Illumine said, his voice wavering. “I’m not like the others. I haven’t even heard the Holy One’s voice in a long time. Maybe… maybe I’m not an angel anymore. Maybe I’m just human.”

Nkem’s mother frowned, her skepticism returning. “Then what are you? A boy with strange abilities? A liar looking for pity?”

Illumine’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.”

Silence filled the room, heavy and uncertain. Finally, Nkem spoke up. “Mama, we have to do something. He needs help. Maybe he can reconnect with God somehow.”

Her mother hesitated, her lips pursed in thought. “What do you suggest we do?” she asked.

“There’s a church,” Nkem said quickly. “The one Papa used to take us to before… before everything happened. We haven’t been there in years, but maybe it can help.”

Her mother’s expression softened as memories flickered behind her eyes. “That church,” she murmured. “It’s been so long.”

Nkem nodded. “Maybe he can pray there. Maybe God will answer him.”

Illumine looked up, hope flickering in his eyes. “You would take me there? To a church?”

Nkem’s mother sighed deeply, her resolve firming. “We’ll take you there. But don’t expect miracles. If God has answers for you, it’s up to Him to provide them.”

“Thank you,” Illumine said, his voice earnest. “I won’t forget this.”

Nkem’s mother stood, brushing off her wrapper. “Finish your breakfast,” she said gruffly. “We leave in an hour.”

As Illumine ate, a sense of quiet determination settled over him. He felt a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long while. Perhaps, with their help, he could find the answers he had been seeking all along.

They dressed in their best attire, Illumine borrowing clothes from a late son whose name was rarely mentioned but whose presence lingered in the home. The fabric felt strange against his skin, but he remained silent, grateful for their kindness.

As they approached the church, a sense of unease washed over Illumine. The grand structure loomed before them, its steeple piercing the sky. A sea of worshippers filed in, their voices rising in harmonious praise. Yet, something felt off. A deep, unsettling weight pressed against Illumine’s chest.

He glanced around, his eyes scanning the area. His unease deepened when he noticed something profoundly strange: the Malika angels, who normally surrounded holy places during prayer times, were nowhere to be seen. Their absence left a void that was both alarming and unnatural. Instead, a group of warriors, ones who bore a resemblance to the celestial warriors of his brother’s rank, stood near the perimeter. Their presence struck him as odd—why would they be here? He couldn’t be sure, but their expressions were stern, their postures tense, and their watchful gazes unsettling.

Still, he said nothing, unwilling to jump to conclusions.

Inside, the church was grand, its interior adorned with golden accents and intricate carvings. They found seats near the middle of the congregation. Illumine sat stiffly, the heavy atmosphere making it hard to breathe.

The sermon began, the pastor’s voice booming across the hall. But as the words filled the air, Illumine’s discomfort grew. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but the energy in the room felt wrong, tainted. The words of the pastor seemed to twist and curl in his mind, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

Then it started. A faint, strange sound, like a persistent hum at the back of his mind. It was faint at first, then louder, sharper until it became an unbearable, pounding noise.

“Stop it. Stop it,” the voice echoed relentlessly, drilling into his thoughts.

Illumine clutched his head, his breathing growing ragged. The voice, combined with the oppressive energy of the place, was too much to bear. Without a word, he shot up from his seat and stumbled out of the church, ignoring the startled looks of Nkem and her mother.

Outside, the cool air hit his face, but the voice didn’t stop. It clawed at his mind, relentless and maddening. “Stop it. Stop it,” it repeated, a torment he couldn’t escape. Illumine dropped to his knees, trembling as he pressed his palms against his ears, desperate for relief.