Halima's name wasn't supposed to be a ghost file.
She was supposed to be loud—too loud, always speaking when she shouldn't, always laughing like the world hadn't yet touched her. But now, the only trace of her was in corrupted email chains and deleted photos archived in broken cloud drives. Like she'd never existed.
But Elara remembered.
And she was going to find her.
Makoko — A Narrow Clue
NUMA's contact came from a stolen clinic directory: an unnamed patient entered a community mental health shelter in Makoko six months ago. No next-of-kin. No ID. But the intake form had a crude note:
"Patient keeps repeating name: Halima."
It was enough.
Elara and Khalid took the bus in silence. The streets narrowed. Roads turned to mud. The high-rises faded into rusted rooftops and the buzzing chaos of Makoko's undercity — a labyrinth of poverty, noise, and forgotten people.
The shelter was barely a building — just a low-roofed center run by tired volunteers. Inside, the air smelled like sweat, soap, and something faintly metallic.
A nurse stared at them when they asked. Then lowered her voice.
"She doesn't talk anymore. Not really."
They were led to a room with peeling yellow walls. On a mattress in the corner sat Halima.
Alive.
Hair cut short. Eyes wide but unfocused. She rocked gently, whispering to herself in fragments.
Elara stopped at the door.
Khalid gently placed a hand on her back. "She's breathing. That's something."
It took hours.
Elara spoke to her softly. Told her about Amara. About the journal. About how Kayra tried to help, and now she was missing too. She watched Halima's fingers twitch at certain names, her gaze flicker like lightning trapped behind storm clouds.
"Halima," Elara said finally, "if they did this to you, I need to know who. I need to stop them."
Halima finally looked at her.
"There are eyes in the water," she whispered.
Elara's breath caught. "What?"
Halima's lips trembled. "They put them in me. To watch. Even now."
Elara leaned in. "Who put them?"
Halima blinked. "The Senator. She told me… 'You talk again, you disappear.' And then I did."
They signed a waiver and arranged a private room. Halima was fragile — trauma fracturing her thoughts like glass. But there were glimpses of clarity.
"She came to my school dorm," Halima whispered that night. "Said she'd cover my tuition. Said I was brave for coming forward."
"Senator Diri?" Elara asked.
Halima nodded. "She gave me money. Told me not to tell the press. Said Amara wouldn't want that. Then… two days later, I blacked out in my room. Woke up in a van. And then... I stopped knowing."
Elara's stomach twisted. "Did she mention my father?"
Halima's eyes flashed. "She said he was building something. A place where girls like me don't speak. And she's one of the gatekeepers."
Back in their hideout, Khalid paced. "She's broken, Ela. They've broken her. Even if she gave us a name, she can't testify. Her word's worthless in court."
"She's not a weapon," Elara said sharply.
Khalid stopped. "I didn't say she was. But you're going after powerful people with ghosts and whispers. That's not enough."
"She's enough for me," Elara replied.
Silence.
Then: "What did she mean — 'eyes in the water'?"
NUMA, from the doorway, answered for them. "I've seen it before. Paranoia induced by psychological tracking. She believes she's being watched… because she probably is."
"You mean implants?" Elara asked.
"No. I mean digital tracking — spyware embedded in phones, voice-enabled assistants, hidden mics. The Silence Council uses invisible surveillance. No bruises. Just eyes everywhere."
That night, NUMA gave Elara a burner phone.
"Encrypted. No GPS. Don't lose it."
Elara nodded.
NUMA added, "If Halima was being tracked, then someone knows you've found her."
"What does that mean?" Elara asked.
"It means they'll try to make her disappear again. And this time, it'll be permanent."
Elara visited Halima once more before they moved her.
She sat beside her in silence.
Halima finally said, "You look like her."
Elara blinked. "Like Amara?"
Halima nodded. "Same eyes. But she was afraid. You're… burning."
"I'm not afraid anymore."
Halima reached for her hand.
"Elara… they don't just make you disappear. They rewrite you. Be careful. Don't let them turn you into something you're not."
They moved Halima to a hidden clinic run by Kayra's contacts.
NUMA wiped every trace of her online history.
As Elara stood in the rain, watching the clinic gate close behind the van, she whispered to the sky:
"This is where it starts."
"No," Khalid said beside her. "This is where it turns."