The city woke slowly, not with noise, not with rush but with silence that felt almost sacred. The rain had stopped, the streets shimmered with the early sun, and a faint mist rose from the ground like breath from sleeping giants. Taye walked down what used to be Broad Street. The road was cracked, but dry now. The scent of wet dust filled the air. Birds had started singing again, small, brave sounds after weeks of fear.
He paused beside a burnt out car. The windows were gone, vines already creeping up the metal. In the reflection of the broken glass, he saw his own face tired, pale, but calm. The faint glow beneath his skin still shimmered when the light touched it.
Nnena caught up with him, hands in her pockets. "You didn't sleep," she said softly.
Taye smiled faintly. "Did you?"
She shook her head. "Couldn't. Every time I close my eyes, I see the gates. The light. The faces."
"Same here," he said. "But I guess it means we're alive."
Nnena gave a short laugh. "Barely."
They walked in silence for a while. Around them, people were coming out, slowly, carefully. A woman swept her shop doorway clean. A child kicked water from a puddle. Life, small and fragile, was returning.
They reached the edge of the bridge again, the same place it had all started. The river below glowed faintly in the sunlight. It didn't whisper anymore. It just flowed, calm and steady.
Taye stopped, staring at it. "Do you think it's really over?"
Nnena leaned on the railing. "Maybe not over. But different."
"Different how?"
She shrugged. "Look around. People aren't screaming anymore. The air doesn't hurt to breathe. Maybe that's enough."
Taye nodded slowly. "Maybe."
But deep down, he felt something else, not darkness, not fear, just a quiet thrum under his skin. The shard's power was still there. Not burning, not whispering… just waiting.
By noon, they reached the police station. What was left of it, anyway.
Half the building had collapsed. The rest stood half flooded, files floating in the water. The air smelled of paper, mold, and smoke. Taye pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The silence was heavy. He saw familiar faces in broken photographs on the wall, people who'd worked beside him, now gone. He touched one picture gently, his throat tight.
Nnena stood by the doorway, watching. "You don't have to stay here," she said.
"I know," he replied quietly. "But I need to see it."
He looked at the cracked desk where he used to sit. The coffee mug still lay there, now filled with rainwater. His badge, half-rusted, rested beside it. He picked it up, brushing away the dirt.
"You going back to being a detective?" Nnena asked.
Taye looked at the badge. "I don't think I can. Not after everything."
She nodded. "Then what will you be?"
He thought for a long moment, then said softly, "A witness."
Later that day, they walked to the church ruins where the final battle had begun. The air there still felt heavy, but not hostile anymore. It was quiet, peaceful almost, like a place remembering.
Taye knelt near the broken altar. Beneath the cracked stone, faint runes still glowed. The last trace of Lira's power.
He touched them lightly. "She's really gone," he murmured.
Nnena knelt beside him. "Maybe not gone," she said. "Just… somewhere else."
Taye smiled faintly. "She'd like that. She always said light never dies. It just changes shape."
The wind blew softly through the empty windows, carrying dust and sunlight together.
For a moment, he could almost hear her voice....calm, distant, like a song carried by the wind.
"The river remembers…"
He closed his eyes and let it echo.
As night fell, they made camp by the riverbank. The city lights flickered weakly across the water. It wasn't bright, but it was beautiful.
Nnena sat by the fire they'd built, staring into the flames. "Do you ever think about before all this?" she asked.
Taye smiled. "Every day."
"What were you like then?"
"Angry," he said simply. "Angry at the world. At myself. I thought solving crimes was enough, that finding truth in blood and prints could fix things."
"And now?"
He poked the fire gently. "Now I know some truths don't fit in reports."
Nnena watched him for a moment. "You changed."
"So did you," he said. "You used to run from everything. Now you're still here."
She smiled softly. "Guess we both grew up too fast."
They sat in silence for a while, the crackle of the fire the only sound.
Above them, the stars were finally visible again.... sharp and clear. For the first time in a long time, the sky wasn't covered in smoke.
Near midnight, Taye woke suddenly. The fire had burned low. The river shimmered faintly under the moonlight. And then he saw it....a faint glow moving on the water, slow and graceful.
He stood, heart racing. The light grew stronger. Then it took shape, the soft outline of a woman cloaked in white.
"Lira…" he whispered.
She didn't speak. She only looked at him, her eyes gentle, filled with both sorrow and peace.
He stepped closer, the water cool against his feet. "You came back?"
Her voice was soft, almost like the river itself speaking. "Not back. I never left. The Veil doesn't end....it flows through you now."
He swallowed. "What do I do with it?"
"Live," she said simply. "Keep the balance. Light isn't about purity, Taye. It's about choice. Remember that."
Her form began to fade.
He reached out. "Lira..."
"Goodbye, Lightbearer."
And then she was gone.
Only the ripples remained, spreading softly across the river until the water was calm again.
The next morning, the sun rose brighter than before. Golden light spilled across the city, touching the tallest buildings and the smallest homes. People walked the streets again. They smiled. They rebuilt.
Nnena found Taye standing by the river, watching the sunrise. "You saw her again, didn't you?"
He nodded. "Just for a moment."
"She say anything?"
He smiled faintly. "Yeah. To live."
Nnena grinned. "Sounds like her."
He turned toward her. "You going to stay in Lagos?"
"Maybe," she said. "But part of me wants to go see what's left beyond the city."
Taye nodded. "If you do, be careful. The Veil may be closed, but the world still has cracks."
She laughed. "So does my heart."
He smiled. "Then you'll fit right in."
They stood together, watching the people cross the bridge, the sunlight glinting off the water.
By noon, Taye started walking again through the markets, through the rebuilt alleys, through the noise and laughter slowly returning to life. Everywhere he looked, he saw change.
Children painted strange symbols on the walls, echoes of old runes, but bright, colorful, alive. Women sold charms carved from wood, saying they were blessings "from the river."
Taye smiled. Maybe they were right.
He passed a small boy sitting by the roadside, drawing on the ground with chalk. The boy looked up and grinned. "Mister, want to see?"
Taye knelt. "Sure."
The boy pointed proudly. He'd drawn a circle crossed by two crescents, the same mark from the murders long ago. But this time, he'd added rays of sunlight around it.
"It's a sun," the boy said. "My grandma says it means we're safe now."
Taye stared at it, feeling his chest tighten....not with fear this time, but hope.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "You are."
He left a small coin beside the boy and walked on.
That evening, Taye returned to the river one last time. The sun was setting, painting the water orange and gold.
He sat on the old stone steps, hands resting on his knees. The faint glow beneath his skin flickered once, then faded softly, sinking deeper like the light was finally at peace.
He whispered into the wind, "Thank you."
The river rippled gently, like it was answering.
Nnena's voice came from behind him. "Talking to yourself again?"
He smiled without turning. "Someone has to listen."
She sat beside him. "You ever wonder what comes next?"
"All the time," he said. "But maybe that's okay. Maybe not knowing is the point."
They watched as the last of the sunlight faded and the city lights came alive again...not harsh, not blinding, just warm.
And for the first time since it all began, Lagos didn't feel haunted. It felt human.
Alive.....
Breathing.....
As the night deepened, a gentle wind rose from the river. Somewhere far below, beneath stone and soil, the sealed gates pulsed faintly not in warning, but in rhythm with the heartbeat of the world.
Taye closed his eyes, listening.
He didn't hear whispers anymore.
Just peace.
And in that silence, one soft voice, familiar and kind echoed in his mind.
"The storm is gone. The light remains."
He smiled, whispering back: "Always."