The _Iwọ̀n_'s fury subsided, leaving the Eko Hotel rooftop slick with sea spray and Consortium debris. Kemi, Naomi, and Elara stood frozen, the only sound the lagoon's gentle lapping against seawalls. Then, like a spark, chaos reignited—sirens wailed, drones swarmed, and Consortium agents in black tactical gear stormed the rooftop.
"Down!" Naomi yanked Elara and Kemi behind a shattered aircon unit. "We need an exit—now."
Elara's eyes darted, Consortium-trained instincts kicking in. "Service stair. East side."
They sprinted, dodging laser fire, as the _Iwọ̀n_'s waters churned below like a summoned beast. At the stairwell, Kemi paused. "Elara, why help us?"
Elara's gaze flicked to the lagoon. "I...I think I underestimated."
Naomi grabbed her arm. "Not the time."
They plunged into Makoko's alleys—stilt houses looming, _gẹ̀gẹ̀_ drums echoing like a heartbeat. Consortium drones pursued, but the twisting paths swallowed them whole. Finally, they collapsed in a safehouse—a crumbling warehouse on Ojo waterfront, walls adorned with _Ọ̀nà_ murals.
Tade, Juwon, and a dozen Makoko elders waited, faces lit by laptop screens. "Got the data," Tade said, handing Kemi a tablet. "Consortium's Lagos ops—hubs, guards, everything."
Kemi's eyes widened. "This is—"
"Leverage," Juwon finished, grinning. "Time to set terms."
Naomi uploaded the data to an encrypted channel, pinging every _#LagosUnbound_ node. "Gonna flood the grid. Let the people decide."
As screens flickered to life across Lagos—street corners, buses, phones—the _Iwọ̀n_'s hum synced with a new beat: _Ọ̀nà_-weave patterns, spirals of unity, the _gẹ̀gẹ̀_'s staccato. Consortium HQ's façade shattered—a projection beamed onto the skyscraper: Kemi, _Adire_ cloth unfurling like wings, voice amplified by a thousand speakers.
"Lagos, we are _Iwọ̀n_. We are the tide. Consortium's grip ends tonight."
The streets exploded. Protests ignited—Victoria Island's towers, Surulere's markets, Agege's alleys. Consortium drones disintegrated in makeshift flak towers; Makoko youth commandeered speedboats, weaving a blockade across the lagoon. Elara, watching from the safehouse, felt Consortium's grip slip.
Tade's laptop pinged. "They're messaging us."
Kemi stood, _gẹ̀gẹ̀_ pendant glowing like a compass needle. "Put them on."
A hologram flickered—Consortium execs in a sterile boardroom, faces tight with fear.
"Stand down, Kemi," the lead exec growled. "We'll negotiate—"
Kemi smiled. "Too late. The threads are loose."
The hologram shattered as Consortium HQ's power died. Lagos plunged into darkness...then re-lit, a thousand times brighter. Streetlights flickered, rewired by _#LagosUnbound_ techs. The _Iwọ̀n_ surged, a crown of water, as if the city itself roared.
In the safehouse, Elara turned to Kemi. "What now?"
Kemi's eyes gleamed. "Now, we weave."
3 AM. Lagos burned bright—a festival of defiance, the _Iwọ̀n_'s waters writing history. Kemi, Juwon, Naomi, and Elara huddled over a map of Lagos, markers in hand, Makoko elders nodding.
"Control grids at Apapa, Lekki, Ijora," Juwon said, circling hubs. "But we need—"
A courier burst in, breathless. "Message from Chief Oluwasegun. Old Kings' Hall. Dawn."
Kemi's gaze snapped up. "The Council of Chiefs."
Naomi's eyes narrowed. "They can legitimize us...or crush us."
Elara stood. "I'll go. Consortium's influence—"
Kemi cut her off. "No. We go _together_."
Dawn broke as they reached the Hall—a colonial relic in the heart of Lagos Island, _Ọ̀nà_ carvings guarding doors. Chiefs in _Aṣó Oke_ robes waited, faces unreadable.
Chief Oluwasegun, doyen of the council, spoke: "Kemi Adebayo, you ignite chaos."
Kemi bowed, _Adire_ cloth pooling like water. "We ignite freedom, _Oloye_. The _Iwọ̀n_ calls."
The chiefs conferred—a whispered storm. Then, Oluwasegun nodded.
"Lagos is a drum. You play its beat. But remember—power has strings."
Kemi smiled, _gẹ̀gẹ̀_ thrumming. "We make the music."