The lagoon lay quiet, but it was not peace. The storm had passed, the fires had dimmed, and the serpent murals glowed faintly in the cavern walls. Yet Tark Island trembled as if the earth itself remembered the clash of dawn and dusk. The Resistance gathered among the ruins, their bodies weary, their spirits frayed.
Smoke curled from broken beams, mingling with the salt of the sea. Warriors moved slowly, binding wounds, whispering prayers, and counting the living. The silence was heavy, broken only by the crackle of dying embers and the groans of the injured.
Imade stood at the center of the camp, her iron rod tapping against stone as she directed survivors. "Move the wounded closer to the lagoon. Water go soothe burns. Healers, no delay." Her voice was firm, but her eyes betrayed exhaustion.
Kafé knelt beside his brother, Taye, who sat with flames flickering faintly across his skin. The fire no longer raged, but its embers carried guilt. "Brother," Kafé said softly, "you still dey breathe. That na victory."
Taye shook his head, eyes hollow. "I nearly burn everything. If prophecy dey true, maybe I be curse, not savior."
Nearby, Seyi carried buckets of water, his hands trembling so badly that half spilled onto the ground. His voice cracked as he whispered, "Prophecy dey too heavy for us. We no fit carry am." His words hung in the air, echoing the fear that many dared not speak aloud.
Several warriors turned toward him, their faces shadowed with doubt. Olumide the archer muttered, "We fight, we bleed, but prophecy still dey twist. Who go tell us say we dey win?"
Ngozi the healer shook her head, pressing cloth against a wound. "Prophecy na chain. Every time we think we dey free, shadow go remind us say we dey bound."
The elder, leaning on his staff, tried to steady them. His voice carried across the cavern. "Balance dey fragile, but choice dey strong. Una don show say destiny fit bend."
But his words did not silence the murmurs. Warriors exchanged uneasy glances. Some whispered that dawn and dusk could not truly unite. Others feared that Orunmare's retreat was not defeat but a trap.
Imade clenched her jaw. She had fought beside them, bled beside them, and now she saw cracks forming in their unity. "Una dey doubt prophecy, but remember—na unity save us tonight. If dawn and dusk scatter, shadow go swallow us whole."
Yet even her conviction could not erase the unease. The Resistance had survived, but survival was not victory.
Zoba sat apart, her pendant glowing faintly in her hands. She traced its edges, whispering prayers to ancestors. Her eyes flicked toward the serpent murals, which glowed side by side, wary but balanced. "Prophecy bend tonight," she murmured, "but shadow still dey watch."
The camp settled into uneasy rest. Fires were rekindled, food shared, wounds bound. Yet beneath the surface, doubt gnawed at them. Warriors questioned whether prophecy was a blessing or a curse. Some wondered if dawn and dusk were meant to clash forever, their unity only an illusion.
Seyi's voice rose again, trembling but insistent. "We dey fight shadow, but shadow dey inside us too. If prophecy dey true, maybe we no fit win. Maybe balance no dey meant for us."
His words struck like a blade. Silence followed, heavy and suffocating. Even Taye lowered his gaze, flames flickering uncertainly.
Kafé placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "No listen to fear. Prophecy heavy, yes. But we dey carry am together. Dawn and dusk no be curse. Na choice."
Imade stepped forward, her iron rod ringing against stone. "Seyi, fear dey natural. But if we let fear rule, shadow go win before battle even start. We no fit scatter now."
The elder nodded, his staff trembling. "Unity dey fragile. But fragile no mean weak. Glass fit break, but glass fit shine too. Tonight, una shine. Tomorrow, una fit shine again."
The words steadied some hearts, but not all. Doubt lingered like smoke, curling through the camp.
As the night deepened, the lagoon shimmered faintly under moonlight. Warriors lay down to rest, though sleep came slowly. The serpent murals glowed, their twin heads trembling as if sensing the storm yet to come.
Zoba's pendant flared suddenly, flooding the cavern with a harsh, unnatural glow. Shadows stretched long across the walls, twisting into shapes that seemed alive. Warriors froze, their faces lit in fear, blades half‑drawn.
Her voice shook as she clutched the pendant. "Scouts… shadow scouts dey crawl near lagoon. I fit feel their eyes. They dey watch us from mist."
The camp erupted. Olumide notched an arrow, his knuckles white. Ngozi whispered prayers under her breath, the words trembling. Seyi dropped his bucket, water splashing across stone as his knees knocked together. "They dey here already…" he whispered, voice breaking.
Taye's flames flared uncontrollably, casting wild light that danced like spirits across the cavern. Kafé rose beside him, waves surging faintly around his wrist. "We no fit rest. Shadow dey plan something bigger."
The elder slammed his staff against the ground, the sound echoing like thunder. "Prepare una hearts. Tonight, unity dey tested again. Shadow scouts dey come."
The serpent murals trembled violently, their twin heads glowing as if alive. From the mist beyond the lagoon came faint footsteps—too many, too close. The pendant's glow pulsed like a heartbeat, warning of danger.
The Resistance stood, blades drawn, hearts pounding. Doubt still lingered, but urgency burned it away. The storm had passed, yet the battle was only beginning.