Chapter Twenty-Six: When the Altar Asked for Blood
Morning came, but it did not bring relief.
Stephen sat on the edge of his bed long after dawn, eyes open, body still, spirit restless. The events of the night clung to him like damp clothes. Miriam's face. Her scream. The way darkness had smiled through her.
This was no longer theoretical.
People were paying prices.
And heaven was silent—not absent, but watchful.
Stephen understood the difference now.
A Disturbance at Home
His phone vibrated.
One message.
From his mother.
Stephen, call me immediately.
Fear rose like bile.
He dialed at once.
"Stephen," she said before he could speak, her voice strained, "your father is asking after you."
Stephen closed his eyes.
That alone was dangerous.
"What does he want?" he asked quietly.
She hesitated. "He says… he wants peace."
Stephen's jaw tightened.
Peace was never demanded by men who carried altars of blood.
The Return of Ogundare
Stephen arrived at his family home cautiously.
The compound felt wrong.
Too quiet.
The old shrine at the back—long ignored—seemed awake again, the air around it heavy and expectant.
His father sat in the living room, calm, composed, eyes sharp.
Ogundare.
Not Stephen's name for him—but the name he chose for himself.
"You've grown," his father said, studying him.
Stephen nodded respectfully. "Sir."
His father smiled faintly.
"That church has made you polite."
Words Laced with Venom
"I hear you're powerful now," Ogundare continued casually. "Praying. Casting out spirits."
Stephen said nothing.
"You've embarrassed us," his father went on. "Our people whisper. They say my son kneels before a foreign god."
Stephen finally spoke. "Christ is not foreign."
The room cooled instantly.
Ogundare's eyes darkened.
"You sound brave," he said softly. "But bravery without wisdom kills."
Stephen felt it then.
A pressure.
Invisible hands tightening around the moment.
The Offer
Ogundare leaned forward.
"Come back," he said simply. "Not to the shrine. To the family."
Stephen's heart pounded.
"What does that mean?" he asked.
His father smiled again—this time without warmth.
"Balance," he replied. "You can pray your prayers. Just don't interfere with ours."
Stephen stared at him.
"That's not balance," he said quietly. "That's compromise."
Ogundare's face hardened.
"Think carefully," he warned. "Because your refusal will cost more than you."
A Name Is Called
As if summoned by the words, Stephen's mother entered the room.
She froze when she sensed the tension.
Ogundare stood.
"Woman," he said coldly, "leave us."
She did not move.
Stephen turned to her. "Mama, please."
Reluctantly, she left.
The door closed.
And the air shifted.
The Veil Is Lifted
Ogundare's voice changed.
Not louder.
Deeper.
"The girl survived," he said.
Stephen's breath caught.
"Miriam," his father continued. "You interfered."
Stephen clenched his fists.
"You used her to threaten me."
Ogundare nodded slowly. "You learn quickly."
Anger surged—but Stephen restrained it.
"This ends now," Stephen said. "You will not touch anyone else."
Ogundare laughed quietly.
"You don't command storms," he replied. "You endure them."
A Sign from the Spirit Realm
At that moment, Stephen felt it.
A tear.
Not physical.
Spiritual.
The veil thinned.
And for a brief second, he saw.
Behind his father stood shapes.
Tall. Silent. Watching.
KOA was present.
Not hidden anymore.
Stephen's knees almost buckled—but he stood.
The Altar's Demand
Ogundare's voice softened dangerously.
"The altar is hungry," he said. "And it recognizes resistance."
Stephen's stomach dropped.
"What does it want?" he asked, already knowing.
Ogundare's eyes locked onto his.
"Blood," he said calmly. "Not yours."
Stephen's heart shattered.
"Leave her out of this," he whispered.
Ogundare tilted his head.
"You already chose a god," he said. "Now choose who pays for it."
Stephen's Silent Cry
Stephen left the house shaking.
He walked until his legs failed him.
He collapsed beneath a tree and wept—not loudly, but deeply.
"I didn't sign anyone up for this," he whispered. "I didn't want sacrifice."
The answer came, not in words, but in understanding.
Following Christ does not create sacrifice. It reveals it.
Stephen pressed his forehead to the ground.
"If this is the cost," he said, "teach me how to carry it."
Favour's Warning
He found Favour later that evening.
One look at his face and she knew.
"They spoke to you," she said.
Stephen nodded.
"They're escalating."
Favour swallowed hard.
"This means they're afraid."
Stephen looked up sharply.
"Afraid of what?"
She met his eyes.
"Of what you'll become if you survive this."
KOA Tightens the Noose
In the spirit realm, KOA gathered again.
"He did not break," one voice said.
Ayanmo's presence pulsed with irritation.
"Then we remove the illusion of protection."
The governor's spirit leaned forward.
"The mother," he suggested.
Silence fell.
Even demons respected certain thresholds.
Ayanmo smiled slowly.
"Let the altar decide."
A Night Without Sleep
Stephen did not sleep that night.
He prayed.
He watched.
He listened.
Not for fear—but for instruction.
By morning, he knew.
This war was no longer about survival.
It was about ownership.
Who truly owned Stephen's lineage?
The Chapter Ends
As dawn broke, Stephen stood.
Not stronger.
But resolved.
"If I must walk through fire," he said quietly, "I will not bow."
In the distance, unseen altars stirred.
Heaven remained silent.
And that silence was permission.
"And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death."
— Revelation 12:11