The sky above Otukpo did not break or darken, it lowered, heavy and unnaturally pressing down on the village like something watching.
The air grew still, too still, as though the world itself had paused. There was no wind, no insects, no distant sounds of life. Even the animals sensed it. A dog barked once, then fell silent.
Nicholas stood barefoot outside his home, staring upward. Something felt wrong, though he could not explain it. When he asked his mother, she dismissed it too quickly. His father, however, did not. His voice carried urgency as he ordered Nicholas inside, his attention fixed on the horizon.
Then the sky shifted.
A thin line of golden light formed in the distance, beautiful, as it seemed almost peaceful. Nicholas began to speak, to admire it, nevertheless, before he could finish, the light split open, and everything changed in the blink of an eye.
Fire did not fall from the sky. It appeared.
A house erupted into flames without warning, followed instantly by another, and another. There was no delay, no spread, no logic that Nicholas could understand. The fire moved with intention, choosing where to ignite. Panic overtook the village as screams filled the air.
Nicholas's mother grabbed him, trying to shield his eyes, but he saw it clearly. The flames were not random. They were deliberate.
His father shouted for them to run, pushing them toward a narrow escape path behind their home. But as they moved, a wall of fire ignited ahead of them, cutting off their path. Moments later, the way behind them burned as well.
They were surrounded.
Nicholas froze, his body refusing to obey him. The fire felt alive, as though it were aware of them, watching them. His mother tried to steady him, but before she could act, the flames shifted again.
His father stepped forward.
Ignoring his wife's protests, he moved toward the fire. Nicholas watched in horror, expecting him to be consumed. Instead, the flames bent, slightly creating a narrow opening.
His father turned back one last time, locking eyes with Nicholas. His voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt. Nicholas had to keep moving. No matter what happened, he could not stop.
Then his father stepped fully into the fire.
Nicholas screamed, but the moment was already gone. His mother pulled him forward, forcing him through the narrow gap as the flames twisted dangerously close. Behind them, the fire closed, sealing his father away.
They ran into the forest, desperate and disoriented. But the fire followed.
It did not chase them wildly, it appeared where they would go next, cutting off paths, controlling movement. Every route they took closed moments after they passed through it. The forest, which should have been their escape, became another trap.
Nicholas stumbled, exhausted and overwhelmed. His mother caught him, but her strength was fading. Ahead of them, the fire rose again, blocking their path entirely.
There was nowhere left to run.
Nicholas realized something then. The fire was not random destruction, it was stopping them.
His mother looked at him differently, as if she understood something in that moment. She grabbed his face, forcing him to listen. Whatever happened next, he had to survive. He had to run.
Before he could respond, she pushed him.
Nicholas fell backward, and as he hit the ground, something impossible happened. The fire split apart, opening just enough for him to pass through.
For him alone.
He hesitated, unable to leave her behind. She stood on the other side, her figure framed by flame, telling him to go. Her voice broke, but her command did not.
He had to live.
The gap began to close.
Nicholas ran.
He forced himself through the fire, the heat burning against his skin, but not stopping him. Behind him, the flames sealed shut, cutting him off completely.
Silence followed.
He ran blindly through the forest until his body gave out. The ground disappeared beneath him, and he fell into darkness.
When he woke, it was morning.
The sky was calm, pale, and empty, as if nothing had happened.
But everything had.
Nicholas was trapped beneath debris and bodies, the weight of death pressing down on him. The smell of ash and burned flesh filled the air. He tried to scream, but no sound came out.
Otukpo was gone.
Everyone was gone.
As he lay there, barely conscious, he felt something strange, a faint warmth beneath his skin. It pulsed softly, unfamiliar but alive.
A flicker.
The fire had not left him.
And far away, beyond the ruins and silence, something became aware of his existence.
A flame had survived.
One that did not belong.
Nicholas was gone, and with a man identified as Light, coming to his rescue, a flame was born
...THE BATTLES OF FLAMES...