Chapter One: The Night the
Sky Broke
The night the calamity began, the sky did not
thunder.
It split.
A thin red crack tore across the clouds above
Ileru village, glowing like a wound that refused to
close. The elders Would later argue about the
signs they missed-the silence of the crickets,
the way dogs howled and fled, the sudden
bitterness in the wind. But on that night, no one
understood what the sky was warning them
about.
Except Adira.
She woke with a scream trapped in her throat.
Her chest burned as if something clawed its way
out of her dreams. She sat up abruptly on the
raffia mat, clutching the amulet that never left
her neck. ShadowS of the clay walls stretched
long and bent like hands reaching for her.
The dream had returned.
Fire swallowing the earth.
People running with no faces.
Blood soaking into the soil until the ground itself
Screamed.
And above it all-a voice, deep and ancient,
whispering her name.
"Adira..."
Her mother stirred beside the hearth. "Another
nightmare?" Mama Nnenna asked softly, without
opening her eyes.
Adira hesitated. "Yes."
Her mother sighed, the sound heavy with fear
she tried to hide. "Since you were born, these
dreams have followed you. I prayed they would
stop."
Adira said nothing. She had learned long ago
that words could not explain what lived inside
her. The dreams were not imagination. They felt
like memories-memories of future that had
already happened.
Outside, a faint rustle interrupted the night. A
whisper of movement-too synchronized, too
deliberate. Adira's heart tightened. She rose
silently, careful not to wake her mother.
Her eyes scanned the moonlit path. Shadows
moved beyond the palm trees at the edge of the
village. Figures, small at first, then growing into
shapes that made her blood run cold.
"Who's there?" she whispered.
Silence answered. Then came a distant sound-a
cry, followed by many cries.
Adira's heart thundered. She ran to the edge of
the hut. Her voice tore through the still night:
"WAR!"
It was the call no one wanted to hear.
From the hills of Ogunle village, the enemies
descended. Their torches flickered like molten
fire in the darkness. Drums pounded, slow and
relentless, shaking the earth beneath her feet.
Smoke curled into the sky. The first huts caught
fire. The scent of burning wood mixed with
terror.
Adira ran through the village, grabbing her
mother's hand. "We must escape!"
Her mother, frail but strong, shook her head. "No,
child! We must hide the others!"
But before they could move, the attackers struck.
Spears cut through the night. Screams split the
air. Clay walls crumbled as if the earth itself
rejected the violence. Children were dragged
from huts. Mothers clutched infants too late.
Fathers fell defending their families, and the
village dogs barked their final warning.
Adira fought with everything inside her. She
struck, kicked, and clawed, but there were too
many. Hands grabbed her. She felt herself lifted,
carried, helpless, as the village she loved burned
behind her.
Her mother ran to intercept the enemies and was
struck down. The sound of her scream, sharp
and final, tore through Adira's soul. She could do
nothing but watch, frozen in horror.
By the time the night ended, Ileru lay in ruins.
Smoke rose to the sky, carrying the scent of
death. The survivors scattered into the forests,
crying, wounded, and broken. Adira, trembling
and bleeding, was taken.
And in the silence that followed, a single truth
remained:
The world she had known was gone.
The calamity had begun.