Osaze turned to leave.
He'd played his part. Smiled politely. Made small talk. Pretended he didn't recognize the face of the man who'd murdered his father.
Now he just wanted to get out.
But then a hand closed around his wrist.
Not hard. Not threatening.
Just... firm.
Osaze stopped.
He looked down at the hand, then up at the man's face.
Ezekiel was smiling. Warm. Holy.
"Wait," Ezekiel said gently. "Please. Just a moment."
Osaze's jaw tightened. But he forced his expression to stay neutral.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I really need to go," Osaze said. "I have—"
"I heard about what happened to you," Ezekiel interrupted. His voice was soft. Concerned. "Your father. I'm so sorry for your loss."
Osaze's blood ran cold.
*How does he know?*
Ezekiel must have seen something in his face, because he smiled gently. "It's a small campus. Word travels. And I thought... maybe I could offer you some words of encouragement. If you'd let me."
Osaze pulled his wrist free. "I don't need encouragement. I'm fine."
"Are you?"
The question hung in the air.
Osaze stared at him. And for a moment, he saw it—just a flicker—the man beneath the mask. Cold. Calculating. Watching.
Then it was gone.
Ezekiel gestured toward a bench near the edge of the courtyard. "Please. Just a few minutes. Talking to someone about grief... it helps. I promise."
Osaze wanted to say no.
Wanted to walk away.
But something stopped him.
*If I leave now, he'll know something's wrong.*
*Play the part. Just a little longer.*
Osaze exhaled slowly. Then he nodded.
"Fine," he said. "A few minutes."
Ezekiel's smile widened. "Thank you."
They walked to the bench and sat.
Osaze kept his hands in his lap, his posture tense. His glasses reflected the afternoon light, hiding his eyes.
On his shoulder—invisible to everyone else—Ìgè sat perfectly still, watching Ezekiel like a predator watching prey.
*"Careful,"* Ìgè whispered in his mind. *"He's testing you."*
Osaze didn't respond.
Ezekiel leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "So. Tell me. How did it happen?"
Osaze blinked. "What?"
"Your father. How did he die?"
The question was casual. Too casual.
Osaze's fists clenched.
From the back of his mind, voices spoke.
**Osazuwa:** *"Stay calm. Answer carefully."*
**Adesuwa:** *"He's interrogating you. Don't give him anything."*
**Eghosa:** *"KILL HIM. RIGHT NOW. RIP HIS THROAT OUT—"*
**Omonigho:** *"Shut up, Eghosa."*
Osaze forced himself to breathe.
"Two men broke into our apartment," he said quietly. "My father fought back. He killed one of them. But the other..." His voice cracked. "The other one killed him."
Ezekiel's expression softened. "I'm so sorry."
Osaze looked down at his hands. "I was there. I saw it happen. And I... I yelled at the man. Told him I'd kill him." He laughed bitterly. "But I can't. I can't do anything. I'm just a student. I don't know how to fight. I don't know how to find him. I just..." He trailed off. "I just want him to suffer. But I can't make that happen."
He sounded defeated. Broken.
*Perfect.*
Ezekiel was silent for a moment. Then he placed a hand on Osaze's shoulder.
"You're not powerless," Ezekiel said gently. "You're hurt. You're grieving. But you're not powerless."
Osaze looked up at him. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Have you thought about giving your life to God?"
Osaze blinked. "What?"
Ezekiel smiled. "I know it sounds strange. But hear me out. I was like you once. Lost. Angry. Broken. I went to war. Fought for things I didn't believe in. And I almost died. I was bleeding out in the dirt, surrounded by enemies, and I thought—this is it. This is how I die."
He paused, his eyes distant.
"And then I saw the light," Ezekiel continued. "God. He reached out to me. Saved me. And from that moment, I knew—I had a purpose. I wasn't just surviving. I was living. For something greater than myself. Fighting for His kingdom. Taking back what was rightfully His."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping lower, more intimate.
"The world is full of darkness, Osaze. False gods. Demons masquerading as protectors. They've poisoned the land, corrupted the people. But God has called us to cleanse it. To root out the lies and reclaim what belongs to Him."
Osaze stared at him.
*That same faith sent you to kill my family.*
But he didn't say it.
Instead, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that's for me. I'm in the Medical Sciences Building. I'm a science student. I believe in human expansion. Exploration. Not... religion."
Ezekiel's smile didn't waver. "Science and faith aren't enemies. They can coexist. God gave us minds to explore His creation. But we must also have the courage to destroy what corrupts it."
"Maybe," Osaze said. "But I'm too busy for all of that right now."
Ezekiel studied him for a long moment.
Then he nodded. "I understand. But think about it. Please. Sometimes, the path to healing isn't through anger. It's through purpose. Through understanding that your suffering has meaning. That you can be part of something greater."
Osaze felt something crack inside him.
*Purpose.*
*He wants me to believe my father's death had meaning.*
From the back of his mind, the ancestors erupted.
Eghosa:*"PURPOSE?! I'LL SHOW HIM PURPOSE—"*
**Adesuwa:** *"Control yourself. This is a test."*
**Ivie:** *"He's baiting you. Don't react."*
**Osazuwa:** *"Breathe. Stay calm."*
Osaze forced himself to nod.
"I'll... I'll think about it," he said.
Ezekiel's smile widened. "That's all I ask."
They sat in silence for a moment.
Then Osaze stood. "Thank you. For... for listening."
Ezekiel stood as well. "Of course. Anytime."
And then, before Osaze could stop himself, he stepped forward—
And hugged him.
It was brief. Respectful. The kind of hug a grateful student would give a mentor.
Ezekiel returned it, his hand patting Osaze's back.
"I appreciate what you're doing for me," Osaze said quietly.
"I'm glad I could help," Ezekiel replied.
They pulled apart.
Ezekiel smiled. "I hope to see you again. Soon."
"Yes, sir," Osaze said. "Thank you so much."
Ezekiel turned and walked away, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture relaxed.
And as he disappeared into the crowd, Osaze stood there, watching.
His expression was neutral.
But inside, he was *burning*.
*"Yes,"* he thought. *"I'll see you soon."*