And right then at that very moment, Gozie's perception of what was real and what was dreamed blurred. Little did he know he was about to enter another, most exciting, chapter in his life. A rabbit hole so deep there was no escaping tumbling all the way into it.
Three months after his Mystery Man experience, Gozie found himself on a life-changing journey to Ghana. The memory of that strange encounter still lingered in his mind, occasionally surfacing in his dreams with startling clarity.
As the bus took a long drive across the road, he pressed his forehead against the window, watching the landscape unfold beside him—a tapestry of sceneries so different from the urban sprawl he'd left behind. His heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. This wasn't just another trip; it was a homecoming to a place he'd never been, a chance to connect with ancestral roots that had always felt just beyond his reach.
In his pocket, he carried a small notebook filled with questions he hoped to find answer to.
Upon arrival in Accra, Ghana's vibrant capital, Gozie gathered his thoughts before proceeding to his next port of call. The humid air clung to his skin as he navigated through the bustling streets, rehearsing his introduction in his mind. His heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness as he approached the impressive gates of the University of Ghana, where he was scheduled to meet with the Vice Chancellor. This meeting, he knew, could potentially open doors for his school and research projects, and the weight of that possibility both energized and intimidated him.
Stepping through the university complex, Gozie took a tired stroll across the beautifully landscaped garden path that led to the Vice Chancellor's manor within the University of Ghana estate, located in the serene heart of Legon, Greater Accra Region.
The air was cleaner here, crisp with the scent of trimmed hedges, fresh-cut grass, and blooming hibiscus. Majestic trees lined the walkway, whispering stories with every breeze. But even the surrounding elegance couldn't mask the fatigue stamped across his face, or the ache deep in his bones from the two-day road trip he had just endured.
He held a white envelope firmly in his right hand—the very one his father had pressed into his palm before departure, with the sober instruction, "Give this to the Vice Chancellor the moment you reach Legon. It's for your own good."
Though he longed to rest, Gọzie knew delaying wasn't an option. His father had been clear: no distractions, no detours. Deliver the envelope first.
How he wished he had traveled by air. Short. Swift. Smooth. But the answer, as always, was money. Or the lack of it. His parents weren't wealthy—far from it. Every Naira—or more correctly, since he was now in Ghana, every Cedi—mattered. Which was why he'd traveled overland from Lagos to Accra—tedious, dusty, and bone-jarring.
His entire body ached, and as he shuffled forward beneath the gentle Ghanaian sun, the tempting thought crossed his mind again: Why not just deliver it tomorrow? But he dismissed the idea immediately, conscience winning over discomfort. His father's words echoed in his memory like a solemn mantra—"It's for your own good"—carrying the weight of parental wisdom he couldn't ignore despite his exhaustion.
Students drifted past him along the pathway, some casting curious glances his way. Their eyes held the unmistakable knowing gaze of seniors observing a fresher navigating his first uncertain steps in this unfamiliar academic landscape, a silent acknowledgment of the ritual they had all once endured.
"Looks like we've got a newbie," snickered one of them, a lanky boy who appeared barely older than Gozie himself, his uniform crisp in contrast to Gozie's travel-worn attire.
"Definitely. Look at that lost-wanderer walk," another teased, his deep voice carrying across the path as he laughed and nudged his companion. "Like he's mapping uncharted territory."
"Leave him alone," a third voice—a girl with bright intelligent eyes—chided playfully. "Can't you see he's exhausted? Not everyone arrives with your unwarranted confidence."
"Aaaw," the boys chimed in mock sympathy, laughing louder now, their amusement echoing across the campus grounds.
The girl gave each of them a sharp knock on the arm as they passed, her exasperation evident in the set of her shoulders. She shook her head at their childishness, a gesture Gozie found oddly comforting in his isolation. She shot him a kind glance, a momentary connection that offered silent solidarity, before hurrying after her friends, her ponytail swinging behind her like punctuation to their brief encounter.
Gọzie managed a small smile, despite his fatigue. He felt like a fish out of water—but at least someone had seen the struggle behind his steps.
His parents had exhausted every financial resource to secure his place at the University of Ghana—one of Africa's oldest and most prestigious academic institutions. Gozie often thought of his father's calloused hands and his mother's tired eyes, both sacrificing comfort and leisure to fund his education.
The university, having begun as an affiliate of the University of London when founded in nineteen forty-eight, now stood proudly independent, its red-roofed buildings gleaming under the West African sun.
Home to internationally acclaimed research facilities like the Noguchi Memorial Institute for Medical Research, the campus sprawled across lush grounds, housing four major colleges where students from across the continent pursued their dreams.
Walking through the palm-lined pathways, Gozie felt both the weight of his family's expectations and the exhilarating possibility that here, among these hallowed halls, he might transform not only his own future but his family's legacy.
Though their finances hardly aligned with the institution's standards, his parents were determined to give him the best future possible. And so here he was, three countries away from home, newly admitted as a student of Natural Sciences under the Faculty of Ecology, letter in hand, steps guided by faith, resolve… and a printed city map.
His father couldn't afford a smartphone. But he'd given him directions—and reminded him that he had once shared a close friendship with the Vice Chancellor, back in their youthful days.
Thanks to the map—and a bit of good-old-fashioned asking around—Gozie had managed to navigate the university's sprawling estate and now found himself within the open gate of the Vice Chancellor's residence.
The manor's compound was vast and green, the path winding through an elegant garden that looked like something out of a royal magazine. Flowers bloomed in brilliant colors, and rare trees cast regal shadows across the walk.
But just as the manor began to appear ahead—its silhouette framed like a welcome—something shifted.
It was subtle at first. A strange sensation hummed in his bones, a disturbance in the air that felt... electric. Danger. He felt it before he saw it.
He spun instinctively, and just in time—
A blur of black launched through the air, aiming straight for his throat.
Reflex took over. Gozie arched his neck away by mere inches as he threw his right arm around the oncoming beast. His left arm instinctively clamped down to secure the hold.
The two crashed onto the ground, tumbling across the path in a violent tangle of limbs and fur. It was only then, between heartbeats, that Gozie saw the full size of the attacker—a jet-black Great Dane, over six feet long from nose to tail, thick-necked and monstrous in strength.
Gọzie's grip faltered. The dog's neck was too thick, too powerful for a stranglehold. He released his hold, rolled backward, and sprang to his feet, assuming a stance he didn't even realize he knew.
The Great Dane regained its footing, snarling viciously, eyes locked on him with murderous intent. It lunged again—
Then something strange happened.
Gozie's right hand began to glow. A familiar glow. The same eerie blue-white energy that had radiated from it three months ago, when he had—in that dream—ripped the heart from a Daemon's chest.
A voice echoed in his mind. Not his own. A word. A command.
Destroy!
The voice—it was the Daemon's. The same from the dream. Cold. Vile. Tempting.
His hand instinctively pulled back into a devastating stance. The energy surged, crackling with deadly potential.
Don't!
Another voice—the Mystery Man!
It cut into the trance like a lightning bolt through a fog. Gozie snapped out of the spell, his will restored.
Acting fast, he shifted from attack to peace. He flung his arm forward in a halting gesture and shouted—
"No-Power!"
A pulse of invisible energy burst from his glowing hand, not hostile but firm—like a gust of wind charged with intention.
The dog, mid-air, was hit by the wave and tossed backward. It landed with a startled yelp, rolled across the path… but didn't cry out in pain.
It whimpered, disoriented. But it was not harmed.
The Great Dane stood shakily, then slowly lowered itself into a submissive crouch. It approached Gọzie cautiously, tail wagging low and hesitant. It sniffed at the hand that had once glowed with power… then gently licked his fingers.
The glow faded. The danger passed.
And Gọzie… still didn't understand what he was becoming.