Chapter 1: The Discovery
Philip came to Abuja for a tech conference, but by the time he sat across from Frank in a quiet restaurant tucked behind a row of hotels, the event had slipped from his mind entirely.
Frank was fair-skinned, thin, and a bit wiry in build. Standing at 5'7", he didn't tower over anyone, but he moved with a quiet confidence—quick on his feet and always alert. His good looks were the soft kind—gentle eyes, a clean jawline, and a smile that could disarm even the coldest heart. He didn't talk much unless he had something to say, and when he did, people listened. Despite his breakup with Athena, he still carried himself with a kind of wounded grace.
Frank looked like a shell of himself. His once-neatly kept afro was unkempt, and his shirt bore the creases of a man who had been too tired to care. He rubbed his temples in slow, weary circles.
"You look like someone who lost a million bucks," Philip said, sliding into the seat.
Frank let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Worse. I lost Athena."
Philip blinked. "Wait—what?"
Frank leaned back, eyes unfocused. "She ended things. Two weeks ago. No warning. Just said it was over."
Philip frowned. "That doesn't sound like her. You two were basically glued together for five years."
"Exactly," Frank said. "But something's off. The way she left... it wasn't normal. I've been trying to forget it, but I can't. And last night, I had the weirdest dream. She was standing in some kind of palace. Wearing ceremonial robes. Like a priestess or a queen."
Philip raised an eyebrow. "Okay. That's weird. So… what now?"
"I want to see her," Frank said, voice low. "Tonight. She's still in Abuja. I checked. She's at her family's estate in Gwarimpa."
"You sure that's a good idea?"
"Nope," Frank replied. "But I need closure."
That evening, under the cloak of twilight, they made their way to Athena's family home—a large compound nestled behind tall gates and palm-lined walls. From outside, the house looked normal. Festive, even. There was music playing—soft but off-beat, like someone had taken a familiar song and twisted it out of tune. The security guard at the gate eyed them coldly.
Frank explained that he was Athena's ex and just wanted to talk. The guard shook his head. "Private party. Invitation only."
Frustrated, Frank turned to leave, but Philip grabbed his arm. "Didn't you say you used to sneak in through her brother's garage?"
Frank hesitated. "You really think we should?"
"You want answers or not?"
They circled the compound to a secluded corner, where a side fence bordered a row of shrubs. Frank found the old loose panel and pushed it aside. The two slipped in, crawling through the bushes, trying not to get caught by cameras or wandering staff.
They entered through a side door into the garage, and from there, into a familiar hallway. As they passed the living room, Philip froze. "We need to change. We'll stand out dressed like this."
Frank nodded and led the way upstairs into Doug's room—Athena's brother, who'd been away for months. His closet was a small jungle of designer suits and strange accessories. Frank picked a navy tux that looked eerily tailored to his size. Philip grabbed a slim black suit and found it fit perfectly, like it had been waiting for him.
"Either Doug gained a new fashion sense or this is too convenient," Philip muttered.
"Don't ask questions," Frank said. "Let's just move."
They descended the stairs and joined the crowd.
That's when the unease hit.
The guests were... wrong. At first glance, it was just another fancy Abuja party. But then Philip noticed their faces. Their expressions didn't change. No laughter, no chatter. Just soft murmurs and wide, glassy stares. Their eyes were pale—white, almost glowing.
"No one's blinking," Philip whispered.
"And I don't recognize a single person," Frank added. "Where's her family? Where's Athena?"
They moved through the house like shadows, passing groups of guests locked in some kind of hypnotic daze. A woman holding a champagne flute stood perfectly still, her drink tilted, yet not a drop spilled. A man nodded to invisible music, eyes blank.
"This isn't a party," Philip said. "It's a performance."
"Or a trap," Frank replied.
But they couldn't leave. Not yet. Not without answers.
Not without Athena.