(Einar's Notes, Entry Unknown:
"From my death I ran, only to enter a greater one. I was a fool to think i could escape the ones who invented death.")
Something hit him.
Hard.
Not a fist. Not steel.
But something older. Quieter.
It had been waiting.
In his ribs.
Behind his breath.
At the edge of every night he thought he was safe.
Fear.
Not the kind that prickles your neck.
The kind that beats louder than your footsteps, not your scream—because you're too afraid to scream.
The kind that sets your calves on fire and dares you to stop running.
Because if you stop, you die.
But this time, he wouldn't be fast enough.
Emeka's body—what was left of it—engraved behind his eyelids like film.
Limbs twisted. Ribs cracked through skin.
Blood soaked the earth like spilt paint, and the bones glinted like shattered glass.
He could hear the sound of it still—**the breaking.
Like his nightmares had stopped waiting for sleep.
So he ran
Faster than he ever had
Faster than his screams
Faster than grief.
His tears couldn't keep up.
Not with the avalanche of swea-
"Ahhh ah." A raw sound tore from his throat.
His breath rasped. Dry. Hoarse. Like a scream caught in barbed wire
His arms flailed, carving through the cold air like a drowning man reaching for anything.
Each step felt like scaling a ladder made of broken glass.
One slip—and he wouldn't get up again.
Then—
Nothing.
The sound of boots crunching gravel—gone.
The chase had changed.
Wheels now.
Emeka's wheels.
He didn't look back.
Didn't dare.
He ran; the silence behind him had teeth.
"I go soon reach," heavy panting. "Make i just cross this bridge."
His vision blurred.
His lungs ached.
But the bridge finally emerged from the haze—
It was all he had left.
Not safety.
Just distance from Emeka's bones.
His lungs burned.
His legs stung like open wounds.
But the concrete rose out of the haze—
long, narrow, shadowed,
starved of sunlight.
Almost. There.
Then—
he saw him.
A gaunt man swayed at the bridge's mouth—
arms flailing like he was casting spells at ghosts.
Muttering. Spitting.
Standing in the way.
Tunde wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist.
Just a few more steps.
Just a few more—
The man lunged into his path.
Arms outstretched.
Mouth foaming.
And didn't move.
Tunde stumbled, swiping weakly at the man.
"Ah—ah! Ogun wan punish you ni? Comot for road, werey!"
His voice cracked on the last word.
But the madman didn't budge.
He held something—
a glint of gold, trembling in his hand—
but Tunde's eyes were fogged with sweat and panic.
He couldn't see.
Then—
he heard it.
The engine.
Roaring.
Closer. Louder. Like it had found him.
A car.
Coming at full speed.
Tunde's eyes widened.
He spun around, panting.
Front: a madman flailing.
Behind: killers in a stolen car.
And him—wedged between two kinds of madness.
He couldn't think.
Could barely breathe.
And before he could form a second thought.
The madman had come to him.
And hugged him.
His soaked clothes slapped against the madman's dry, scratchy black robe.
His legs, trembling moments ago, found their footing—
But his mind was spiralling.
"Guy! Why you dey hold me?! Leave me abeg—I go deck you o!"
The words scraped out of him, raw and breathless.
He tried to push free, but the man's grip—
tight as chains, cold as steel—
refused to budge.
Tunde's chest pounded like war drums. Every breath was a fight.
The madman's breath was hot and sour against his ear.
His eyes wild.
His voice cracked like broken glass.
"Take it."
He pressed something cold and metallic into Tunde's hand.
"Take the medallion. Please—I can't hold it anymore."
The car engine roared louder—closer—screeching tires now audible.
Tunde tried to pull away.
"Guy! I don't want—what's this? Wetin be dis?!"_
The madman gripped him tighter.
Eyes burning.
Tears now streaking down his face.
"TAKE IT!"
"I can't die again!"_
"You! You're next! You're the one!"
Tunde glanced over his shoulder.
The headlights were close—**too close.**
His legs wouldn't move.
His breath was gone.
"FINE! Okay—yes! I go take am! Just leave abeg!" Tunde pleaded to the point of tears
The moment his fingers closed around the medallion—
The world vanished.
No sound.
No road.
No wind.
Just black.
And then—