When I was younger—eight years old, to be exact—I made a vow. I was going to become a Madarikan. My father had been one. Until the day he met what the locals called the Azu. No one ever gave me a clear description of it. Some said it was a shadow with fangs. Others claimed it moved like smoke. Whatever it was, it took both of my father's legs and left my family with sorrow and shame. That was enough for me. I swore I'd find the Azu and finish what my father started.
Fourteen years have passed since I made that promise. Now here I am, running through the edge of the Evil Forest. Not as a Madarikan. But as their prey. I've been here for three months—running, hiding, barely sleeping. The very people I once dreamed of joining now want me dead. For a crime I can't even explain. A nightmare I keep waking up inside of.
I ran out of fear, but in truth… part of me wanted to be caught. I just didn't want to run anymore. But unfortunately I was good at it. Hiding, moving, disappearing. And to top it off, I had help. Not from a person—but from something most people would run from. A Fallen creature. Lizard-like, as big as a dog, with a sharp tail and cheetah spots. His name was Chuba. I didn't understand why, but I could speak to him. Actually speak. I'd tried with others—other Fallen—but none of them responded. Just Chuba. And honestly, that was enough. He helped me move through the forest, avoid patrols, and find shelter. He knew paths even the Madarikans didn't.
"Stop there, you demon!"
The Madarikans' voices cut through the trees, sharp and close. They were gaining on us. I had known it was only a matter of time. You can only run for so long—but you can't outrun men driven by conviction.
Chuba darted ahead, weaving through a maze of twisted roots and sloping earth.
"Here," he called, stopping at what looked like a burrow beneath the roots of a massive tree.
"Go through."
"Where does it lead?" I asked, pausing. In all our wandering, We had never taken a path like this. I knew we didn't have time, but I still needed to know. Even in fear, I wanted to understand what I was stepping into.
"A place no human has ever entered," Chuba replied.
"The Madarikans can't follow. Only us."
I froze. "Us? But I'm also human, Chuba."
Chuba blinked slowly. "Yes. But you are a Fallen One. My King."
And there it was again. From the very day I met Chuba, he had insisted on calling me his king. I had protested—again and again—but it made no difference. It was as if protest was the only language he didn't understand. So eventually, I let it slide. It didn't matter.
But this? To call me a Fallen One? That rattled me. Sure, I knew what I'd done could only be classified as fallen behavior. But did that really make me one of them?
I didn't have time to figure it out. The Madarikans were almost here. I had to move. Swallowing the fear climbing up my throat, I turned to the tunnel. I stepped forward—half of my body passed through—and everything changed. The air inside wasn't air. It was thick, like invisible hands pulling at my skin. The world beyond the tunnel wasn't earth, wasn't sky—just something else.
Something ancient. Something humming with unreadable power. My breath hitched. My pulse slowed. It felt like the tunnel itself was reaching inside me—wrapping around my lungs, dragging me forward.
Then—
A choked cry. I froze. Pulse hammering. Slowly, I turned. Chuba staggered, a spear jutting from his side.
"Chuba!"
I stepped out of the tunnel just as he collapsed onto the damp earth. My legs moved before my mind caught up. I ran to him, dropping to my knees beside his trembling form.
"No, no, no— not again," I whispered. My hands hovered over the wound, useless. I felt it again—that same cursed helplessness. Like everything was happening just for me to watch, powerless to change a thing.
Chuba's tail twitched. His voice was a rasp, barely a breath.
"My King… run…"
I clenched my teeth. "I'm not leaving you."
Feeling helpless was one thing. But abandoning a friend? That was something I couldn't do. Chuba's breathing grew shallow. His body trembled. Still, he tried to rise. I reached for him—but he slumped against my hand, too weak.
"Go… it's too late for—"
His tail gave one last flick—then stilled. His golden eyes, once alert and loyal, dulled. The light inside them… gone. My chest tightened. The forest blurred. A scream welled up—raw, primal, nameless. Grief. Rage. Something more. But before I could release it—rough hands seized me from behind.
"Filthy creature," one of them spat. "Feeling sorry for your kind?"
I thrashed, instinct taking over. My elbow cracked into someone's jaw—a grunt followed.
Then fingers yanked my head back, digging into my scalp. I wasn't clueless when it came to fighting, but I was too drained to do anything useful. Weeks of running, hiding, barely sleeping—it had all caught up to me. A fist slammed into my ribs. Pain burst through my side.
They slammed me to the ground, twisting my arms back. Rope bit into my wrists, cutting deep. The leader stepped forward, looming. His mask hid most of his face, but his eyes gleamed with satisfaction—the kind that only comes after long, bitter pursuit. He knelt beside me, slow and smug, watching me struggle like it amused him.
"You really thought you could run forever?" he said, exhaling. "Pathetic."
Then he stood.
"Take him."
The last thing I saw before darkness took me was Chuba's lifeless body. Golden eyes—once fierce—now empty.
And then, the forest swallowed me.
***
The rain fell heavily, making the air damp and thick. The clouds hung low, covering the sky like a blanket.
Deji and his group walked along the path toward the village. The sound of their boots hitting the muddy ground was the only noise, besides the soft patter of the rain. They didn't talk much, just focused on the road ahead.
Up ahead, they spotted a group of Madarikans. They were dragging someone—an unconscious boy—between them. Deji's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, keeping pace as they closed the distance.
One of the Madarikans turned, his eyes landing on Deji's group. The recognition in his gaze was immediate. He stepped forward, squinting in the rain.
"You're the Hand Major from the Adesina family, aren't you?" His voice carried a tone of acknowledgment. "Deji Olatunji, right?"
Deji nodded.
His subordinates looked at each other, surprised.
"How do you know him?" one of them asked, his voice low.
The Madarikan leader chuckled softly, eyes glinting. "Isn't he in the 3rd Order? Completed more than two hundred contracts? They're not easy to forget." He paused, nodding at Deji. "Your hard work hasn't gone unnoticed. You keep going, even when others fall behind." His voice lowered. "I've got some contracts I'd really appreciate if you could take."
Deji glanced at his hands, then back at the Madarikan. "Right now, we're tied up with a contract. We're heading to Okusuwei Village, but if there's some time to spare, I'll consider your offer."
The Madarikan's eyes brightened. "Ah, thank you. I'm Boma, the leader of this unit."
Deji glanced down at the person they were carrying. "And who is this?"
Boma looked down at the boy in their grasp, his expression shifting slightly. "This one? He's a shadow shifter, we think. He massacred his entire family. The real one must've been devoured, and this is the fake. We suspect he's the shifter now."
Deji's brow furrowed. "Can I analyze him?"
Boma hesitated but then gave a short nod. "Go ahead."
Deji took a step closer, examining the boy carefully. His eyes moved over the body, every detail burning in his mind as he thought about what this might mean. He paused for a moment, then spoke again.
"I want to take him."
Boma and his men exchanged confused looks. "What? Why would you want him? We can handle it from here. We need to return to the village."
Deji's voice was steady. "I insist. I've never seen a shadow shifter like this before. I want to investigate further."
Boma frowned. He and his unit had worked for months to capture the boy. Giving him up just like that didn't sit right with him.
"No," Boma shook his head. "We can't do that."
Deji held his gaze. "If you let me take him, I'll owe you a favor. You can call it in whenever you want."
Boma paused, considering. Having a Major in his debt could be far more useful than holding onto the boy. Finally, he nodded slowly.
"Alright, Major. But be careful. I know you're a Major, but that boy or shifter… you should execute it once you're done with your investigation."
Deji nodded, expression unreadable. "Thank you, Boma."
With that, Boma and his men turned and walked away, leaving Deji and his group standing in the rain, the boy now in their care.
***
I slowly opened my eyes, the dull ache in my head mixing with the softness of the sheets beneath me. The room was simple. Plain. But there was a strange warmth to it.
That warmth—so gentle, so undeserved—made everything feel wrong.
For a brief moment, I remembered where I came from. All that I had lost. The contrast was sharp enough to sting. I shouldn't have felt this relaxed. Not now. Not here.
I shifted slightly—and froze.
She was there.
Kneeling beside the bed, gently tending to my wounds. A warm cloth in her hand. A bowl of steaming water by her side. Her presence didn't match the room, or the world I thought I'd woken into. I blinked once, twice. Still there.
She was beautiful. And for a foolish second, I wondered if I had died. If she was some celestial guide sent to show me around whatever afterlife someone like me deserved.
But no. That wasn't possible. Not for me.
Pushing the thought aside, I let my voice cut through the quiet."Where am I?" It came out dry, rasped. "Is this the place of my execution?"
She didn't flinch. Didn't recoil. Instead, she looked at me, calm and composed, and replied in a voice so gentle it made the question feel more dramatic than I intended.
"You don't seem afraid or tense about it."
I didn't answer. What would be the point? Fear was a luxury I'd long stopped carrying. I shifted again, leaning my back against the wall. The weight in my chest hadn't moved, but I could breathe through it. For now.
She continued. "We're at Okusuwei Village. My major took you from the Madarikans."
I narrowed my eyes, watching her more closely now. Her uniform confirmed what I already suspected—she was a Hand. The cloak, the posture, the discipline in how she folded the cloth. But I couldn't place the family.
"Your major?" I asked. "Why would he do that?"
There was a faint smile on her lips, but something uncertain behind her eyes. "I wish I knew," she said. "The Madarikans say you're a Shadow Shifter."
Of course they did.
My body responded before I could stop it. A slight tension in my shoulders. Subtle, but noticeable.
"Do you believe that I am?" I asked.
She didn't answer immediately. Her gaze dropped to the cloth in her hands, squeezing water into the bowl before lifting her eyes again. That same quiet smile lingered.
"With what I've seen," she said, "you're very much human."
If you had asked me before now whether being called human would bring comfort, I might've said yes. But hearing it in that moment didn't feel like comfort at all.
She stood, collected the bowl, and nodded toward a nearby chair. "You should wear the clothes there. My major is waiting outside."
I blinked.
Then it hit me—the weight of the sheets, the absence of fabric against my skin.
I was naked.
Heat surged to my face before I could suppress it. Subtle panic. I gripped the sheets tighter, unsure whether I was more embarrassed or annoyed that I'd been stripped without knowing.
She didn't comment. Just walked out with the same calm grace, leaving me alone in the room. With my thoughts.
I stared at the folded clothes on the chair, expressionless. Then exhaled slowly.
Saved from the Madarikans. Dressed and tended like a guest. A major waiting for me. None of it added up.
When I finally stood, my legs trembled slightly—but I adjusted, steadying myself.
I dressed in silence, each motion deliberate. The Madarikans had wanted me dead. Whoever this "major" was, he had pulled me out from the fire.
The question now was… what did he want in return?
***
The rain had been falling for hours, as it often did in lands curled against the edge of the rainforest. Now, finally, it had stopped. What remained was the thick scent of wet earth, soaked wood, and damp bricks. I breathed it in slowly. There was something about it that stirred a feeling I didn't ask for—a quiet, unwanted nostalgia. I had been away from houses for too long.
I remembered my own. The damp walls. The steady rhythm of rain on the roof. The hum of voices now long gone. The memory pressed against my chest like a weight. I exhaled and shook it off. This wasn't the time to linger on the past. Not with everything still so uncertain.
My eyes swept the area, stopping on a small group standing beneath the shade of a tree—talking in low tones. Hands, judging by their cloaks. Their major stood among them. They didn't seem to notice me at first. I rubbed the back of my neck, the building behind me drawing a brief glance. It was isolated, tucked away from the rest of the village like an afterthought.
No, not an afterthought. A decision.
They'd chosen to place me here. Far from the others. I understood why.
Pushing that thought aside, I walked toward the group under the tree. As I neared, the man at the center lifted his gaze and adjusted his stance—subtle, but deliberate. The others followed suit.
When I reached them, he spoke first.
"You're finally awake." His tone was casual, but practiced. There was something in it I couldn't place—caution, maybe. "You slept through the rain. Must've been exhausted." He tilted his head slightly. "Are you hungry?"
His eyes lingered on me longer than necessary. He was assessing me. Thin. Tired. Worn down. I looked like someone who hadn't eaten well in weeks. Because I hadn't.
He nodded to himself as if confirming a private observation. "We'll get you well fed."
I gave a small nod in response, more out of habit than gratitude. The offer reminded me of livestock—well-fed before the slaughter. I didn't want kindness wrapped around execution. If that was their intention, I preferred they got straight to the point.
My voice came out quiet, flat. "Why did you take me from the Madarikans? You didn't have to go through all that trouble for me."
He blinked. The question caught him off guard. His brow furrowed slightly. "Did you want to be executed?"
I didn't answer.
He exhaled through his nose and waved the thought away. "Never mind." He gestured to the girl beside him. "This is Simi. She took care of your wounds." Then he nodded toward the man on his right. "That's Tor."
He exhaled through his nose and waved the thought away. "Never mind." He gestured to the girl beside him. "This is Simi. She took care of your wounds."
She couldn't have been much older than me—sharp eyes, a steady presence, but there was still something unshaped in her, like someone still growing into herself.
Then he nodded toward the man on his right. "That's Tor."
Tor had the kind of face that carried just enough age to suggest he'd seen a little more than she had—and enjoyed most of it. He stood a little taller than the others, maybe a few centimeters over me. I was about 180—he had to be at least 183.
He stood a bit straighter before continuing. "I'm Deji. Their Hand Major. We serve the Adesina Family. We're here on a contract."
He matched my height exactly, but the way he held himself made him seem larger. Not just in presence—but in experience. Late twenties, maybe early thirties. Old enough for conviction to settle into routine. The kind of man who'd seen too much to flinch easily.
Then his gaze shifted back to me. "And you? What's your name?"
I hesitated. So I'd been right—they were from one of the Divine Families. Adesina. I didn't know much about the differences between them. All I'd ever known was that they stood between humans and the Fallen. That was enough. But the question hung in the air. My gaze dropped.
When was the last time I had said my name out loud?
The thought stirred something bitter. My mind drifted to Chuba. That loud, annoying creature had never once called me by name. Always King. Always defiant. I used to argue with him about it. He never listened.
A breath escaped me, quieter than a sigh.
Tor's voice cut through. "What, you don't have a name?" His tone was smug, like a child poking something just to see if it would break.
Simi gave him a look. "Tor. You've been doing so well. Don't ruin it now."
Her tone was light, but the warning underneath was clear.
Tor raised both hands, mock innocence on his face. "What? I was just asking."
Deji shot a glance at both of them. "Enough." Then, calmly, he looked back to me, waiting.
"…Akenzua," I said at last, my voice low.
He leaned in slightly. "What was that?"
A beat passed.
"Tuedon Akenzua," I repeated, clearer this time. "But you can call me Akenzua."
Deji nodded once. "Akenzua. That's a good name."
He let the silence hang a moment before speaking again.
"If you don't mind me asking… why do the Madarikans think you're a shadow shifter?"
My gaze darkened. I said nothing. There were answers I would gladly forget, if forgetting was possible.
He studied me for a few seconds longer, then gave a slow nod. "Fair enough. We'll talk in private after the mission."
His tone shifted as he moved on. "Speaking of which, we need to meet the village chief for a more detailed contract briefing." His eyes met mine. "I want you to come with us."
I stilled. "Me?"
What exactly did they think I could offer? I wasn't part of their mission. If anything, I was the thing slowing it down. Handing me over to the Madarikans would've been easier. Cleaner. But instead, they wanted me to tag along.
It felt just like when they offered food. Kindness I hadn't asked for. Kindness I didn't deserve.
"Why?" I asked quietly, gaze drifting off. My voice barely carried. "I appreciate what you've done, but there's no need to burden yourselves any further. I can manage on my own."
I turned to leave.
But before I could take two steps, Deji was suddenly in front of me.
I tensed, caught off guard. That speed… It was the first time I'd seen a Hand move up close. Swift and precise. It made sense now—members of a divine family were stronger than normal humans. Even the Madarikans couldn't move like that.
His expression was unreadable. "I insist," he said, voice calm but ironed with weight. "I don't believe you're a shadow shifter, but I took you from the Madarikans. That makes you my responsibility now." He didn't look away. "And this isn't a request. It's an order."
The words made me clench my jaw.
My first instinct was to say no. Not out of pride—but because I wasn't anyone's responsibility. I didn't deserve saving.
The words nearly left my mouth—until Tor let out a low whistle behind him.
"He's really refusing Major Deji, huh?" he said, somewhere between amused and impressed.
Simi didn't share the tone. She frowned, her thoughts nearly visible. "What is he thinking? Didn't he realize this was his best chance at survival? Anyone else would've killed him already—no questions asked. That's just how this world worked.
Deji scoffed. "So you'd rather head back into the forest and let the Madarikans chase you down again?"
I lowered my eyes to the earth but didn't back down. "Yes."
Deji opened his mouth to respond—but his expression shifted before the words came. Sharp. Alert. He sensed something.
Too late.
A blur of movement struck me from the side, slamming me against the wall with crushing force.
A heavy thud followed, shaking dust loose from the roof tiles.
The thing stepped into view—towering, skeletal, the size of a bear. Its skin was drawn so tightly over its bones it looked mummified, and its arms were long and crooked, ending in three jagged claws that scraped the ground as it walked.
Deji's eyes narrowed. He knew what it was.
A Morduk.
A Fallen, third-level threat. Not a mindless beast—something worse. A parasite that drained the life out of the elderly, one breath at a time.
Its hollow sockets swept over them, pausing briefly on me. But it wasn't here for me.
The silence that followed was colder than the wind.
Then the creature growled—low, guttural—and turned. Without warning, it lunged down the path into the heart of the village, its limbs jerking like a marionette cut loose.
"Simi!" Deji barked, tone clipped but steady. "Check on Akenzua!"
She was already moving, pale but focused. She dropped beside me, hands quick, checking for damage.
Deji turned to Tor, eyes hardening. "Tor, with me. We stop it now—before it touches anyone else."
Without another word, Deji dashed after the Morduk, his feet barely making a sound as he moved with the speed of a true Hand. Tor followed closely, both of them focused on stopping the creature before it could wreak havoc.
It didn't take long for the villagers to realize what was happening. The heavy footsteps of the Morduk thundered through the village, its skeletal frame moving with unnatural speed. The ground trembled beneath its weight. Screams filled the air as people scattered, running in every direction, panic taking hold of them.
The village leaders sprang into action, immediately shouting for everyone to head toward the village hall. The hall was their safe haven, the one place where they would be out of harm's way and free from the Morduk's destructive path. The Hands would be able to fight without worrying about protecting the villagers, giving them the best chance to defeat the creature.
"Tor!" Deji's voice cut through the chaos. "Get the villagers to safety! I'll handle the Morduk."
Tor didn't argue. "On it!" he called back, already moving.
The rain had turned the ground into a thick mess of mud, making every step a struggle. Tor cursed under his breath. If he had more Divine Essence, like his Major, the terrain wouldn't be an issue. That's why he had to prove himself.
He pushed forward, arriving just in time to guide an elderly couple away before the Morduk could set its hollow eyes on them. One by one, he moved people to safety, his focus unwavering. Meanwhile, Deji worked to keep the creature occupied, staying just close enough to taunt it but not engage fully. Fighting head-on while the villagers were still within range was too risky.
The Morduk grew restless, scanning its surroundings as it struggled to catch a prey. Then, its gaze locked onto an old woman being led by her son.
Deji saw it instantly.
No.
A boy—no older than thirteen—was gripping his mother's hand, trying to guide her through the mud. His small frame trembled, but there was no hesitation in his steps. He was determined to survive.
Deji's voice rang out. "Watch out!"
The Morduk let out a guttural snarl and charged.
Tor moved on instinct. He barely made it in time, throwing himself between the creature and the old woman. Twin Cinders flashed in his hands as he raised them to block the strike—
CRACK!
The impact sent Tor flying, his body crashing into a nearby wall with enough force to shake the building. A sharp jolt of pain shot through his limbs, and for a moment, his vision blurred.
Deji cursed under his breath. He wasn't distracting it enough.
The Morduk was already preparing for another attack, its claws stretching toward the old woman. The moment was fleeting, but Deji saw his chance.
His hand found the hilt of his Cobra Dagger.
In one swift motion, he threw it.
The dagger pierced straight through the Morduk's neck.
The creature staggered, clutching at the weapon buried deep in its flesh. A thick, dark liquid dripped from the wound.
Tor, still lying on the crushed wall, watched in awe.
His Major was so precise.
He knew the poison from the dagger would make it harder for the creature to move. Deji took advantage of that, grabbing the Morduk with his enhanced strength and hurling it further away from the village hall. Now, he could fight without restraint.
The battle began.
The Morduk refused to stay down, lashing out with wild strikes, but Deji danced around them with ease. His movements were effortless—dodging, countering, striking only when necessary. The dagger in his grip glinted under the weak sunlight, its edge never missing its mark.
From the village square, people watched in awe.
"I've never seen a Major in battle before…" one of them murmured.
"They really are divine," another whispered.
"Look how he moves. He's not even breaking a sweat."
Tor listened. His chest swelled with pride.
That's my Major.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand. He took a deep breath, centering himself. Something inside him stirred—a steady, burning resolve.
Move.
Tor exhaled, shaking off the pain. The old woman and the boy were still there, wide-eyed and frozen in shock. Without wasting another second, he grabbed them and rushed toward the village square.
The battle raged on.
With the villagers now out of harm's way, Tor didn't hesitate.
It was time to fight.
He dashed forward, joining Deji in battle..
***
I barely registered the sound of my back slamming into the cracked wall. My body was already numb—pain dulled by exhaustion.
Simi knelt beside me, her hands steady, eyes scanning my injuries. She pressed a small healing craft to my chest. Warmth pulsed faintly from it, steady and slow, like a distant heartbeat.
Somewhere down the road, the village screamed. Battle cries. Metal against flesh. The thudding pace of the Morduk.
"You're good at this," I muttered, my voice rough.
Simi didn't look up. "I specialize in it."
Then, quieter—maybe not meant for me—she added, "That's what women are good for in the Adesina family anyway."
The words caught in the air. Barely spoken. But I heard them.
My eyes flicked to her face. She wasn't worried about me—not really. Her hands worked from habit, not concern. Her jaw was tight. Her breathing uneven. She was thinking about them. Her Major. Her squad.
"You don't have to waste your time on me," I said. "Go help your team. I'll be fine."
Her hands stopped.
Then she pulled away, sharp with frustration. "Here you go again—your 'I'll be fine' act." She scoffed. "It's okay to be helpless sometimes, you know. It's okay to let someone help."
I didn't respond.
She stared at me, like she was trying to figure something out. Then her expression hardened.
"From the looks of it," she said, "you don't get much of that in your life—help." Her voice was quieter now, but no softer. "So why shove it away when someone offers?"
I still said nothing.
She clicked her tongue and stood. "Whatever. I put a healing craft on your chest. Don't take it off. It'll dull the pain, but I don't have enough essence to do more. I've got a whole unit to patch up if this goes south."
She paused, then threw her hands up. "Stay here. Or don't. I don't care."
She turned and started off, fast and frustrated.
But just before she disappeared down the path, I heard her mutter under her breath—
"If my Major hadn't ordered me to treat you, I wouldn't have."
Then she was gone.
I exhaled. My gaze drifted up toward the grey sky. The healing craft pulsed faintly against my chest.