Night had fallen over Lagos, and the city seemed to breathe differently after the day's chaos. Elijah sat alone on the edge of the Warden base rooftop, the lights of the city twinkling below like distant stars. But the beauty couldn't reach him. The echoes of screams, the twisted faces of the possessed, and the memory of his sister's vanishing pressed in like a weight he could not shake.
He clenched his fists, feeling the golden pulse of his Resonance beneath his skin. It had saved lives today, yes—but every life he saved reminded him of the ones he couldn't.
I should've been faster. I should've seen it coming. She… she's still out there because I failed.
The guilt coiled around him like a living thing, suffocating and relentless. Every heartbeat seemed to echo that failure. Elijah's chest burned, and the warmth of his power seemed to mirror his emotions, flickering in intensity with every memory of that night four years ago.
A soft voice broke through his thoughts. "Elijah." Lara stepped onto the rooftop, her silhouette outlined by the city lights. She didn't sit, didn't offer empty comfort—she simply watched.
"I… I can't stop thinking about her," he admitted, voice tight. "What if I'm too late? What if… I can't save her?"
Lara's eyes softened. "You can't undo the past. But you can control what comes next. That power inside you… it's listening, responding. You can't afford to let guilt paralyze you."
Elijah closed his eyes, the pulse in his chest slowing as he tried to focus. He imagined his sister—alive, waiting—and funneled that image into his Resonance. Slowly, golden light spread across his hands and radiated outward, steady and strong.
Faith is more than hope. It's action. Alignment. Sacrifice.
For the first time in a long while, Elijah felt a fragile sense of clarity. The shadows of guilt remained, but they no longer consumed him. They became fuel, a reminder of why he had to master his power, why he couldn't hesitate—not if he ever hoped to save her.
As the city hummed beneath him, Elijah whispered to himself, almost like a prayer:
I will find you. I will control this. No matter what it costs.
And somewhere deep within, the golden pulse throbbed in acknowledgment—a promise, a warning, a beginning.