The Ember whispers

Chapter 1-The wrong Voice

Nina Okafor never liked Mondays, but this one felt particularly cursed. The sky over Lagos was unusually gray — not the kind of gray that meant rain, but the color of dust-choked memories. She adjusted her headphones, hoping to drown out the morning rush with Fela’s trumpet blaring through her playlist.

Then her phone buzzed. A new voice message — no caller ID, no name.

She sighed and tapped play.

Static. Then a voice — her own voice.

"If you're hearing this, then it’s already started. You need to find the man with the scar on his wrist. Tell him... he left me in the fire. Tell him the timeline’s collapsing. And whatever you do, don’t let them trace the signal."

Nina froze.

It was her voice. Same cadence. Same breathy tone she’d always hated in recordings. But this one sounded panicked. Desperate.

She looked around, half expecting someone to jump out and say it was a prank.

Instead, the only thing that greeted her was the chaotic morning traffic and the soft buzz of her phone — new message, same number.

This time, the voice was trembling.

"They found me, Nina. They’re erasing memories now. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. Please… please don’t fall for him again. He’s not who you think he is."

Nina’s fingers trembled as she hit pause. Her reflection in the darkened screen stared back: wide eyes, unblinking, haunted. That was her voice. Her name.

But she had never said those words.

She looked down at her palm. The birthmark she’d always had — shaped like a crescent moon — was glowing faintly.

Maybe Mondays weren’t cursed. Maybe they were just... warnings.