Stormforge: When The Gods Awaken

Lagos never truly slept. Even at night the city breathed, restless and alive. Streetlights buzzed overhead, casting tired yellow halos onto cracked roads. Engines hummed. Voices drifted in fragments: laughter, arguments, music leaking from distant speakers. To anyone else, it was just another night. To Ayo, it felt off. He couldn't explain it, not properly. It wasn't something he could point to, like a broken streetlight or a stalled car. It was quieter than that, as if the world had taken a breath and forgotten to let it go. He walked with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his orange hoodie, shoulders hunched against the night air. His glasses caught the glow of passing headlights, hiding his eyes before the light slipped away. People moved around him, unbothered, unaware. A woman argued into her phone near the roadside. A bike sped past, engine whining. Somewhere behind him, a vendor called out half-heartedly, trying to sell what was left of the day. "Broda, ata wa o!" Normal. Everything looked normal. Ayo slowed. Something in his chest tightened, not pain exactly, just pressure, like a hand pressing inward from the inside. He stopped at the corner, but the world didn't. Cars kept moving. Football fans across the street kept cheering at a screen. Ayo stayed still. Then the streetlight above him flickered. Once. Twice. He frowned and tilted his head back. The light steadied, then buzzed again, louder. zzzt— His fingers twitched inside his pockets, and he didn't know why. Across the street another light flickered, then another, one after the other. Not random, not broken. Moving. The flickering was spreading, a wave of dying light pushing outward from somewhere. From him. The realisation arrived quietly, like a gentle wind. He pulled one hand from his pocket and stared at it as if it belonged to someone else. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a spark. A thin line of light danced across his fingertips and vanished. Ayo froze. "No," he muttered. The air felt heavier now, closer. Another spark came, stronger. The streetlight above him went out completely, and the dark dropped over that stretch of road, swallowing sound for half a second before the noise rushed back. Someone at the viewing centre shouted in confusion. "Ah! NEPA, why na?" Another voice cursed in Yoruba. A horn blared. Ayo heard none of it. His eyes were locked on his hand, on the faint glow building beneath the skin. "...that was me." The words had barely left his mouth when something answered. Not a voice, not a sound. A presence, watching. He felt it before he saw anything: a shift in the air, a weight pressing down from above. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his head. Balconies. Windows. Shadows. Empty, or they should have been. For a split second he thought something moved. A shape, a figure, gone as fast as it came. The feeling stayed, and it grew. It was like déjà vu, as if he had felt this before, as if whatever was watching him was something he was somehow connected to. Ayo swallowed as another spark danced across his fingers. Whatever this was, it wasn't normal. Not even close. The streetlights didn't come back properly. Some flickered weakly; others stayed dead, as if something had reached into the city and quietly drained its rhythm. Lagos had seen blackouts before, but this felt different, as though the city itself was unsure whether to wake up. Ayo walked faster, not running, not yet. Every step sounded louder than it should have. The distant hum of generators and the murmurs of confused pedestrians pressed in too close, and underneath it all the pressure in his chest returned, stronger. He glanced at his hand. Nothing. Just skin. He didn't trust it anymore. "Okay," he muttered. "That's not normal." A horn blared behind him. A bike swerved past, nearly clipping his shoulder. "Guy, you dey mad?! Watch where you dey go!" the rider shouted. Ayo barely reacted. His attention had caught on a metal gate nearby, trembling slightly though nothing touched it. He stopped walking. The gate went still. He exhaled slowly, and it relaxed. "...that's me again." Before he could think further, a voice cut through the tension as if it didn't belong in the moment at all. "Ayo!" A boy jogged toward him from across the street, weaving through the chaos like it was nothing. He was slightly taller, with a louder presence, the kind of energy that arrived before he did. He stopped in front of Ayo, breathing hard and grinning as though nothing strange was happening in the city. "Guy! You just dey waka like ghost. You no see say everywhere don dey dark?" Ayo blinked. For a second the weight in his chest eased. "Ola," he said slowly. "Why are you smiling right now?" Ola frowned like the question was ridiculous. "Because I still dey alive. That one no be reason enough?" Ayo didn't answer. Ola looked around, finally noticing the dying streetlights properly, and his voice dropped. "Okay, wait. This blackout thing... e no be normal o." Ayo's jaw tightened. "No," he said quietly. "It's not." Ola leaned closer, squinting. "But you dey act like you know something." Ayo paused, a beat too long. "I don't." It came out too fast. Ola noticed. Of course he did; he always did. "Ayo... wetin dey happen?" For a moment, Ayo almost told him. Then the air shifted again, like a memory brushing against reality. A distant streetlight flickered, and Ayo's fingers twitched. Ola saw it. "Your hand just move," he said slowly. "Why your hand move like that?" Ayo shoved both hands into his pockets. "Nothing." Ola stared, not convinced. Then his expression softened, as if he'd decided to let it go, at least for now. "Okay," he said, shrugging. "I no go press you today. But just know say you dey act weird recently." Ayo looked away. "I'm fine." Ola laughed, and despite everything Ayo let out a breath that almost became a smile. Then a faint crackle of energy passed through the air, so soft only he noticed it, and the smile died. Something was happening to him, and he couldn't put a finger on it. Ola, still oblivious, stretched his arms. "Anyway, since everywhere don dey spoil like this, you fit come house. My mum cook—" "No," Ayo said quickly. Ola blinked. "Why?" Ayo hesitated. Because staying close to people right now felt dangerous. Because whatever was happening to him didn't feel finished. Because something inside him was still listening. He couldn't say any of that, so he said: "I need to go home." Ola stared a second longer, then sighed dramatically. "Oya go. Mr. Mystery Boy." He pointed a finger. "But if you start acting like zombie tomorrow, I go report you personally." That finally pulled a real reaction from Ayo, a faint, reluctant smile. "Noted." Ola laughed and turned away, disappearing into the dim street. Ayo stood still after he left. The silence felt heavier, deeper, as if the world had closed slightly around him. He looked down at his hand again. This time he didn't wait for something to happen. He whispered it. "What am I?" And somewhere high above the city, something watched him ask, and waited.