JOSHUA:
I had always known Ola to be the unshakable one between us. No matter how dire the situation got, he always had this unspoken fire in him—a determination that made it feel like no obstacle was too great. But ever since we returned from Myrad Island, he wasn't the same.
It wasn't just the usual exhaustion that followed a mission. No, this was deeper.
Ola was quieter, more distant. His usual sharp wit had dulled, and though he still spoke to me, there was an unfamiliar weight behind his words, as if he were holding something back. The warmth he once had—it was fading, and I didn't know how to bring it back.
----
We had been home for two days when our mother finally said something.
It was at dinner. The scent of spiced jollof rice filled the room, mingling with the warm glow of the candles she had set on the table. She had gone all out—pounded yam, egusi soup, fried plantains. The kind of meal she only made when she was happy. Or worried.
Ola sat across from me, eating in silence. He barely touched his food, which in itself was a red flag. Our mother, dressed in a simple yet elegant Yoruba buba and iro, observed him for a long time before she finally spoke.
"Ola," she started gently, her voice laced with concern, "what happened on that mission?"
Ola didn't look up. "We completed it," he said simply.
She frowned. "That's not what I asked."
I watched as Ola tightened his grip on his fork. He let out a slow breath, forcing himself to relax. "I don't want to talk about it."
Our mother exchanged a glance with me before turning back to him. "You have changed, my son. Your spirit feels… off."
Ola sighed. "I'm just tired, Mum."
She nodded slowly, her gaze piercing. "You remind me of an old tale. A Yoruba warrior who wielded the power of the gods but lost himself in it. His strength was unmatched, but with every battle, his soul faded. Until one day, he was no longer a man, but something else entirely."
Ola finally looked at her. "And what happened to him?"
"He forgot who he was," she said softly. "And in the end, he was alone."
For the first time in days, I saw something flicker in Ola's eyes. Guilt? Fear? Maybe both. But he quickly masked it.
"I'm not some folktale," he muttered before pushing his chair back and leaving the table.
Our mother sighed, staring at his retreating figure. "Joshua," she said, looking at me now. "Watch your brother."
I nodded. "I will."
----
Later that night, after everyone had gone to bed, I sat at my desk with my tablet, scrolling through NSDA's battle records. I wasn't supposed to have access to these files, but I had learned a few tricks over the years.
When I pulled up the data, my blood ran cold.
Ola's mana signature had completely changed. It wasn't just an increase in power—it was something else entirely. His readings matched something that had only been recorded once before. A classified event that happened a year ago.
The Excavation Project.
I skimmed through the report, my heart pounding. The project was meant to uncover what was behind the ice wall in Antarctica, but something went wrong. The scientist—whose identity was redacted—died from an abnormal surge of energy, the same energy that caused the cataclysmic event.
And the last line of the report sent a chill through me.
The Harbinger of Death.
I shut the screen and sat back, breathing heavily.
What the hell is happening to my brother?
The next day, Ola went out with Temi. She had invited him, acting as if nothing strange had happened the last time they saw each other. Maybe that was her way of helping.
I wasn't there, but when he came back that night, he actually looked… better. He had a faint smirk, which was the closest thing to a smile I'd seen on him since Myrad Island.
"How was it?" I asked as he tossed his jacket onto his bed.
"She's still as annoying as ever," he muttered, but there was no real bite to it.
I raised a brow. "So, what did you guys do?"
"Went to the arcade. She kicked my ass at one of the shooting games."
I blinked. "You? Losing?"
Ola scoffed. "She cheated."
I chuckled. "Right."
He stretched his arms, exhaustion creeping back into his expression. "It was… nice."
I knew what he really meant.
For a moment, he had felt normal again.
As he lay down, I thought about telling him what I found.
The Excavation Project. The classified event. The so called Harbinger of Death.
But looking at him now, finally at peace for the first time in days, I couldn't bring myself to say it.
Instead, I just said, "I'm glad you had fun today."
He gave me a small nod. "Yeah."
As I turned off the lights and lay
in bed, one thought haunted me.
Ola had survived the mission. But had my brother really come back?