OLAMILEKAN:
The sun was already climbing in the sky, casting warm, dappled light over the quiet streets of Navil. I took a deep breath, letting the crisp morning air fill my lungs. For the first time in a long while, I wasn't thinking about Kairin, or the NSDA, or anything remotely dark. Just Temi.
I met her near the old tram station by Velin Park, where we used to hang out before life got complicated. She was leaning against the railing, phone in one hand, sunglasses perched on her head. Her outfit was effortlessly stylish—a cropped burgundy jacket over a black graphic tee, light denim jeans, and those chunky sneakers she always wore when she wanted to be comfortable but cool. Her hair was styled in a sleek bun with a few strands loose, framing her face.
I wore a loose cream hoodie and black cargo pants, paired with my favorite boots. Casual, but clean.
"You're late," she said, smirking as she pocketed her phone.
"Only by three minutes," I replied, pretending to check my watch. "But who's counting?"
She rolled her eyes and started walking. I fell in step beside her. "You seem... better."
"I feel better," I admitted. "You know, today just felt like a day I didn't want to waste."
"Good," she said. "You were starting to look like a brooding anime protagonist. All that's missing is the tragic soundtrack."
We both laughed.
We spent the first half of the day exploring the park. Velin was huge—a mix of nature trails, street food vendors, and small art exhibits scattered under the open sky. We tried street kebabs from a vendor that Temi swore made the best spicy sauce in all of Navil. I ended up coughing like a maniac after the first bite while she watched with that amused glint in her eye.
Later, we rented bikes and rode through the cherry blossom trail, the petals drifting down like soft pink snow. It felt surreal. We stopped at a quiet pond, sitting side-by-side on the edge with our feet dangling above the water.
"You know," Temi said, looking out across the pond, "I was scared for you. Back at the facility. You didn't look like yourself."
I stayed quiet for a moment.
"Neither did you," I finally said. "But you're still here. That matters."
She turned to me, searching my face. "You ever going to tell me what happened to you?"
I hesitated. My hands curled slightly. "I don't know how to explain it."
Temi leaned her head on my shoulder. "Then don't. Not yet. Just... don't disappear, Ola. That's all I ask."
My chest tightened. I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that until now.
We stayed there for a while, just existing.
Before heading back, we stopped by a vintage bookstore Temi loved. She bought some obscure poetry collection and insisted I buy something too, so I picked a small notebook instead.
"For when you're ready to talk," she said, tapping the cover.
By the time we walked back toward the tram station, the sun was tilting toward the west, casting everything in gold. It was the kind of light that made memories.
As we said goodbye, she looked at me like she wanted to say more. I felt the same. But for now, this was enough.
---
JOSHUA:
I sat at the dining table with Dad, half-listening to his recap of some news story while my mind drifted.
Ola had left the house earlier looking... lighter. Like something had been lifted from his chest. Mom had noticed it too. But I couldn't stop thinking about the reports. About what I saw in the data during the fight with Kairin.
His power had changed. I knew what I saw. His mana output wasn't just high—it was unstable. Unnatural.
I had cross-referenced it with older records out of curiosity. That was my first mistake.
The match I found wasn't just similar. It was identical. The same signature from a classified incident tied to something the NSDA called the "Excavation Project."
It was the kind of thing I should have reported. But I didn't.
Because it was Ola.
And because a small, selfish part of me didn't want to know what they did to him.
I closed the file and locked my terminal.
For now, I would stop digging.
My brother was out there, smiling again. Living.
I just prayed he stayed that way.