At first, Mela thought the sound was in his head.A dull thump. Then another.Like heartbeats, but heavier, echoing from the earth itself.
Dum… dum… dum…
He pressed his palms against his ears. It didn't help. The sound wasn't coming from outside — it was inside his bones.
Across the ruined street, survivors staggered, clutching their heads. Even hardened gang boys who had been laughing moments ago were suddenly pale, muttering in fear.
And then, Mela's eyes widened.
Because Amara heard it too. She clutched her chest, her small frame trembling. "Brother… the drums. Can you hear them?"
"Yes," Mela whispered, voice shaking.
Far away, in another part of the city, Sanni froze mid-stride. His demon-mark burned on his arm. He licked his lips slowly, smiling through the pain. "Ahhh… they are calling."
The drums weren't music. They were summons.
The family huddled in the shell of a burnt-out kiosk. Smoke drifted in the air, and screams echoed faintly in the distance. The city felt wrong — as if the air itself was watching them.
Their mother was whispering prayers under her breath when suddenly the ground shook. Not like an earthquake. More like a ripple. The drums grew louder.
And then they came.
From the shadows at the end of the street, creatures crawled out — thin, long-limbed things with faces stretched into permanent grins. Their eyes glowed like embers.
Someone shouted, "Òrìṣà ń bò! (The gods are coming!)" and bolted, abandoning his own child. The boy screamed, trampled under fleeing feet.
The monsters charged.
"Run!" Mela grabbed Amara, dragging her down an alley. His chest burned, the cut across his ribs from the last fight bleeding again.
One of the creatures was faster. It leapt, claws extended—
CRASH!
Their mother threw up her hand, the barrier flashing into existence. The monster slammed against it, screeching. But the shield cracked. She gasped, blood dripping from her nose.
"Mama!" Amara cried.
"I… can't hold it…" she whispered.
The barrier shattered.
The monster lunged again — this time toward Mela. He swung his cutlass desperately. Sparks flew as iron met bone. The blade bit deep, but not enough. The beast roared, claws raking across his arm.
Pain exploded. Mela screamed, falling back.
The creature loomed over him, jaws opening wide to rip his throat out.
Dum… dum… dum…
The drums pounded in his head. The chain around his wrist burned. His cutlass glowed faintly. For a moment, he felt Ogun's iron flow into him.
"Ọmọ mi," the voice rumbled inside him. "Do not fear death. Make death fear you."
Mela roared and thrust upward. The blade pierced through the monster's jaw, splitting it in two. Black ichor sprayed. The creature collapsed, twitching before turning to ash.
But there were more.
Two more creatures lunged. Amara screamed as one grabbed her by the leg, dragging her back.
"Amara!" Mela tried to rise, but blood loss made his vision swim.
Their mother staggered forward, summoning her barrier again. It flickered weakly — barely strong enough to push the monster back.
Then Mela froze.
The second creature had gotten behind them. Its claws slashed across their mother's back. She screamed and fell, blood pooling beneath her.
"No… Mama!"
Mela's world shattered.
He crawled to her, pressing his hands against the wound. The blood wouldn't stop. His heart pounded as tears blurred his eyes. "Stay with me… please, stay with me!"
The drums grew louder. His chain seared hotter. For a moment, Mela thought he saw a massive shadow towering behind him — Ogun's silhouette, hammer in hand.
But something else stirred. A different energy, softer, golden, wrapping around Amara.
Her eyes glowed faintly, just for a second. Her trembling hands pressed against their mother's wound. Warmth flowed. The bleeding slowed.
"Amara…" Mela gasped.
Her lips moved unconsciously, whispering words not her own. "…life… not yet… not hers…"
The glow faded. Amara collapsed, unconscious.
But the wound had closed — not fully healed, but enough to keep their mother alive.
Mela sat frozen, chest heaving. His mother coughed weakly, clutching his arm. "Your sister…" she whispered. "She is awakening."
Before Mela could reply, the monsters screeched again. More were coming. The survivors who had run earlier were being ripped apart in the streets. Blood painted the walls.
And then, as if to taunt them, the drums stopped.
Silence.
A silence worse than the noise.
The creatures froze, then backed away, retreating into the shadows. The survivors left alive sobbed in confusion.
Mela tightened his grip on the cutlass, his whole body shaking. Why did they stop? Why spare us now?
He looked down at Amara, unconscious but breathing, her hands faintly glowing. For the first time, he realized:
This wasn't just survival. This was a test.
The gods were watching.