Elijah's shoes scuffed against the cracked pavement of Lagos' Ikorodu Road as the sun dipped behind the tall buildings, casting long shadows over the street vendors' stalls. The air smelled of fried plantains and petrol, and the usual honking of danfos filled the atmosphere, but Elijah barely noticed. Four years had passed since that night—the night his sister vanished—and the memory still throbbed in his chest like a live wire.
He had learned to avoid crowded streets after sunset, to stay invisible, but fate had other plans. A scream shattered the evening chatter, twisting Elijah's attention toward a narrow alley where shadows danced unnaturally against the corrugated walls.
"Hey!" a voice shouted. Elijah's heart accelerated. Two men in hooded jackets had cornered a young man. Their fists rose.
Elijah's mind raced. Stay calm. Don't panic. Focus.
"Stop!" His voice cracked, but something inside him hummed, resonating with the fear and defiance in his own heart. The alley seemed to hold its breath.
One of the men laughed, stepping forward, but before he could strike, reality bent. A wave of golden light exploded from Elijah's chest, throwing the attackers back as if invisible hands had lifted them. One slammed into a wall, clutching his head, eyes wide with terror. Another stumbled backward into a trash heap.
Elijah staggered, hands trembling, staring at the energy that had erupted from him. I didn't even think… How?
The young man he had saved gawked. "W-what… did you just do?"
"I… I don't know," Elijah muttered, voice hoarse. Fear mingled with awe. For the first time, he realized the truth: his faith was not just belief. It was power. Literal, tangible, dangerous power.
But the city had already begun to notice. A subtle hum lingered in the air around him, and somewhere in the shadows, he felt eyes watching.
By the time he returned home, his small room smelled of mildew and old books. He sank onto the creaky mattress, journal in hand. His pen hovered above the page as if unsure it could capture what had just happened.
Faith… as power. Real power. And I'm… untrained. Undisciplined.
A knock at the door made him jump. "Who is it?" he called, voice shaky.
A man stepped inside without waiting for an answer. Dark suit, badge glinting faintly in the dim light. "Covenant Wardens," he said. "We've been monitoring unusual activity. You're not safe alone."
Elijah's stomach twisted. "I don't want anyone involved. Especially not… you."
"Faith like yours," the man said, voice low but firm, "is dangerous. Not to you… but to everyone around you. You're… undefined."
Elijah felt the weight of the word. Undefined. Not measurable. Not normal.
And yet, I can't ignore it. I can't run from this. I have to find her.
He looked out the cracked window toward the city lights, every flicker of neon a reminder of how fragile life was in this world where Demos could manifest through the broken. And somewhere, deep down, he felt the stirring of something unstoppable.
Something that would not just save his sister… but shake the very foundations of faith itself.