The surreal drive from the Ojodu-Berger intersection started with an awkward, heavy silence that felt thicker than the harmattan haze. Inside the reinforced cabin of Tunde's Jeep Grand Wagoneer, the air was a pressurised soup of emotions. The teenagers—Amina, Ngozi, and Edet—were uncharacteristically quiet, pressed against the doors as far as possible from the living legends sharing the backseat.
It was Irin who finally broke the tension. His deep, resonant voice filled the cabin like the hum of a power transformer. He was leaning forward, his chrome forehead nearly touching the rearview mirror as he studied the dashboard.
"It appears that we slumbered for a long time, Little Linguist," Irin said, his silver eyes tracking the display of the digital clock. "Everything is... different. The very bones of the world have been replaced with grey stone and black oil."
"Yes," Omi added from the middle seat. She was trying to avoid touching the leather, her hands folded in her lap like delicate porcelain. "Even the language of the people in the streets... it is strange. It is sharp and hurried. It has no music, no rhythm of the tides. It sounds like the clatter of dry sticks."
"Now we ride a chariot that runs without horses, powered by the trapped breath of the earth," Irin remarked, his finger hovering over the glowing speedometer. "And your people carry glowing glass devices that they use to communicate with others who are far away. You have mastered the air with your flying metal birds, but I fear you have lost your connection to the earth beneath your feet."
"It is a mercy that there is still one who knows the First Tongue," Ina said from the front passenger seat. He turned slightly, casting a rare, respectful glance at Tade. The heat from his gaze was literal; Tade could feel the skin on his cheeks begin to prickle. "Without the boy, we would be deaf and dumb in this new forest of glass."
Tade blushed, adjusting his glasses. "I... I just studied the stories and linguistics of the Old Kingdom. I never thought I'd actually be speaking it to the people who lived it."
"I am simply happy that you are alive and well, Irin," Omi said, her voice dropping to a softer, more dangerous register. "Earlier, at the place we were awakened from the great slumber... Ina reported that he could not find your spark. He told me your stone had gone dark."
"Is that so?" Irin asked. The metallic hum of his voice took on a jagged edge. He shifted his massive chrome head toward the Fire-Master. "Is that what you saw, Ina? My spark extinguished?"
Ina kept his mouth shut, his jaw set so tight that a faint orange glow began to leak from between his teeth. The silence that followed was worse than shouting. Omi sat back, her mind racing through the implications of Ina's lie, while Irin stared at the back of Ina's head with the steady, unblinking focus of a predator.
The Jeep's engine finally cut out, leaving the cabin in a sudden, ringing silence. They were parked deep within the hollowed-out carcass of an uncompleted luxury apartment complex on the outskirts of Mowe. Above them, the skeletal concrete beams and rusted rebar offered a jagged canopy, hiding the vehicle from the infrared eyes of the military drones prowling the clouds like mechanical vultures.
Tunde slumped against the steering wheel, his knuckles white and trembling. He took a jagged breath, the scent of ozone, burnt rubber, and ancient dust filling his lungs. "We're off the grid," he whispered, more to himself than the gods. "The GPS jammer is holding. For now, we're ghosts."
In the back, the temperature began to rise. The leather of the seats groaned and hissed under the heat radiating from Ina's skin. The fire-wielder didn't move. He sat like a statue of cooling lava, his eyes flickering like dying coals in a windstorm.
"You lied, Ina," Omi whispered. The humidity in the car rose sharply; thick condensation began to crawl down the windows like heavy tears. "You looked me in the eye and told me Irin was gone. Why?"
Ina shot a scowl at her, then at Irin. The tension was a physical weight, threatening to crush the teenagers in the back.
"Did you mean to abandon me, brother?" Irin asked. The coins in Tunde's cupholder began to vibrate and dance. "Did you mean to leave me as a statue in the dirt while you and Omi walked this new world alone? Was I an inconvenience to your new life?"
Ina's jaw tightened. A vein on his temple throbbed with a dull orange light. He quivered with a suppressed, violent energy that threatened to melt the very floorboards of the Jeep.
"A warrior without honour is just a monster with a weapon," Irin said, his voice dropping to a subterranean rumble that rattled the teenagers' teeth. "A traitor's fire can be extinguished, Fire-Wielder. Remember who forged your blades."
"Is that a threat, Iron Heart?" Ina's hand ignited. A small, hungry flame licked at the ceiling of the Jeep, filling the cabin with the acrid stench of scorched leather and desperate pride.
"It's a promise," Irin growled. The metal door handles began to glow with static electricity.
Tade sat trembling between them, the Source Stone pulsing a frantic, rhythmic purple in his lap. He looked at Amina, who was clutching her knees, her eyes wide with terror. They had survived the terrorists and the security forces, but as the three Alagbara bared their teeth at one another, Tade realised a terrifying truth: the terrorists weren't the biggest threat to Lagos. The gods were.
"Enough!" Tunde yelled, slamming his hand against the dashboard.
The sudden outburst from a mere mortal startled the Alagbara into a momentary silence. Tunde turned around, his face red with fury. "If you want to kill each other, do it outside in the dirt and let the military drones finish the job! Otherwise, shut up and move. We're going upstairs."
To Tade's immense relief, the Alagbara actually stopped. They looked at Tunde with genuine confusion; they clearly didn't understand his rapid-fire English, but they understood the tone of a man at the end of his rope. With a careful choice of words in Ogede-atijo, Tade translated: "[The Elder of the Chariot says the metal vultures are watching. We must hide in the stone nests above.]"
Tunde led them to a finished unit on the fourth floor. It was a "hidden" apartment he kept for his investigative work, a chaotic bachelor pad filled with the clutter of the 21st century: flat-screen TVs, buzzing refrigerators, and stacks of old newspapers.
As the trio entered, the "Fish-out-of-Water" reality hit them like a physical blow.
Irin walked straight to the kitchen sink, mesmerised by the chrome faucet. He touched it tentatively, his metallic finger clinking against the steel. When he accidentally nudged the handle and the water flowed out, he jumped back, his eyes wide.
"The life-stream..." he whispered, looking at Omi. "Have these people imprisoned the spirit of the river in silver pipes? To what end?"
"To wash plates and bathe, mostly," Tade muttered, dropping his bag.
Ina, meanwhile, was staring at a microwave. He poked the glass door with a glowing finger, watching his reflection. "A box that creates heat without a flame? This world is a desert of the soul, Linguist. You have replaced the spirit of the sun with... humming metal and plastic boxes."
The Fire-Master didn't explore further. He stood by the window, pulling the curtains back just an inch to stare at the distant, glowing horizon of Lagos. His brow furrowed in genuine pain. "The stars are gone," he said softly. "The sky is choked with the grey breath of your machines. Where is the beauty of Ile-Ominira? Where are the gardens of the Palace of Peace?"
"Everything we knew and everyone we loved is gone, Ina," Omi said mournfully. She was sitting on the edge of a sofa, poking the soft cushion as if she expected it to bite her. "We are ghosts in a world made of glass."
While the Alagbara stood in the centre of the room like artefacts in a museum, Tunde called Tade aside.
"I've called an Uber for the others," Tunde whispered. "Amina, Ngozi, and Edet need to get home before their parents call the army. I gave the driver an address three blocks away so he wouldn't see... well, them. I also called Bisi."
Tade nodded. Bisi was Tunde's ex-girlfriend, a renowned investigative journalist who had once taken down a whole local government board. She was the only one who could frame the narrative before the government labelled the Alagbara as "Extraterrestrial Terrorists."
After the other teens left, Tade tried to break the tension. He pointed to a tall, sleek device in the corner. "That's a 'Smart Mirror,' Irin. It tells you the weather and... well, it shows you yourself."
Irin walked toward it. As the motion sensor was activated, the mirror displayed a digital clock and the current temperature: 32°C. Irin jumped back, instinctively reaching for the battle-axe on his back.
"The glass... it speaks in the language of numbers!" he shouted. "Who is the scribe trapped behind this silver wall? Release him at once!"
"It's just a machine, Irin," Tade sighed, rubbing his temples. "No one is trapped inside. It's just... light and math."
Meanwhile, Omi had discovered the television. She tapped the screen with a fingernail, and it flickered to life on a nature channel showing a high-definition waterfall in the Amazon. She fell to her knees, reaching out to touch the image.
"The Great Fall of Oyo-Igbo..." she whispered, her voice trembling with grief. "How did you capture its spirit and put it in this flat stone? Can I set it free?"
"It's just a recording, Omi," Tade tried to explain. He realised then that 'digital memory' was a concept he could never translate. To them, every screen was a cage for a soul.
Ina was having the hardest time. He tried to sit on a modern designer chair, but his six-foot frame and the sheer heat of his body caused the plastic to warp and snap within seconds. He stood up with a growl, preferring the hard, cold concrete of the floor.
"Your world is soft, boy. It is made of things that break when a real man touches them. How do you live in a world that has no spine?"
A sharp, rhythmic knock at the door made the Alagbara jump. Ina's fist glowed white-hot; Omi raised her hands, the water from the sink hovering in the air like a shimmering serpent.
"Easy! It's a friend," Tunde said, checking his phone's security feed.
He opened the door to reveal Bisi. She wore a sharp blazer, her hair in a perfect power-bob. She walked in, took one look at the metallic titan and the glowing fire-warrior, and didn't even blink. She set her laptop bag on the table as if she were entering a standard press conference.
"Tunde, you always told me you'd find a story bigger than the fuel subsidy scandal," she said, her voice cool and professional. "I didn't realise you meant the literal end of days."
"Bisi, this is... well, you saw the news."
Bisi looked at the Alagbara, her eyes scanning them with a journalist's cold precision. "Right now, the world thinks you're demons. The Sons of the Earth are posting 'Shout-Out' videos claiming you're their 'prophets' come to cleanse the city. If we don't change the narrative in the next twelve hours, the military is going to nuke this entire zip code just to be safe."
Tade translated the threat.
"We do not seek the approval of ants," Ina spat, turning back to the window.
"Then the ants will burn your house down while you sleep," Bisi countered. She stepped right into Ina's personal space, ignoring the heat radiating from his chest. "In 2026, the loudest voice wins. You might be gods in the dirt, but I'm a journalist. And in this city, my word is the only law that matters."
Tade translated, though he polished Bisi's words to sound more like a "respectful warning."
As Bisi and Tunde moved to the balcony to strategise, the trio sat in the dim light of the living room, the blue glow of the TV reflecting off Irin's chrome skin.
"Why, Ina?" Omi asked again, her voice small. "When Orun formed the Ayanfe into small units to better protect the kingdom, we chose to stay together. We were siblings in all but blood. Why would you try to leave Irin behind in the dark?"
Ina turned away, his reflection flickering in the darkened screen of the "Smart Mirror."
"It was a moment of weakness," he whispered, his voice cracking like dry wood. "I thought letting Irin stay asleep would make things simpler."
Irin stepped forward, the floorboards groaning under his weight. "That does not explain the intent, Ina. You risked the Linguist. You risked the mission. Ile almost prevailed today because the circle was broken."
"Of course! We can do nothing without the Great Irin!" Ina roared, his flames flaring until the smoke alarm began to beep. "The Champion of the Forge is here now, isn't he? So let us stop weeping over the ashes of the past!"
Tade watched them from the kitchen, realising that their divine power was matched only by their very human flaws. They were grieving a kingdom that had been dead for five centuries, and they were bleeding that grief onto each other in a world that was already on fire.
[ LORE CARD: THE PALACE OF PEACE ]
Location: The central hub of ancient Ile-Ominira.
Description: A sprawling complex of white stone and flowing water where the Ayanfe were originally stationed. It was said that the gardens of the Palace were watered by Omi herself, and the walls were reinforced by Irin's magnetism.
Historical Note: The Palace fell during the Great Betrayal, an event that the Alagbara refuse to speak of in detail.