The village stirred slowly. Roosters barked in distant courtyards, and the scent of wood fire clung to the sharp morning air. Laila was on the veranda of her aunt's house, barefoot, observing the mist curl through the trees. The pendant rested on the collarbone, hidden below the blouse, but its weight kept her more than she'd care to confess. She had not slept. Not at all. Her dreams were jigsaw puzzle fragments, indistinct voices speaking dialects she barely understood. Her mother's face had appeared just before the break of dawn, not smiling, but awaiting. Aunty Yemisi was already in the kitchen, stirring a pot of ogi on a coal furnace. She did not say anything at first, only regarded Laila and gestured to the stool beside her. "You were always the quiet one," she said at last. "Even as a kid, always watching, always thinking." Laila pushed her elbows forward, resting her arms on her knees. "I wish I had asked more questions. Yemisi poured the porridge into a bowl and set it before her. "Your mother kept you safe. She kept her world hidden deep within her, but it never vanished." "She was doing something dangerous," said Laila. "Something that still has people watching me." "Not dangerous," Yemisi corrected. "Necessary." Laila stumbled. "Why did no one stop her?" Yemisi glared at her straight on. "Because we needed her to succeed." The quiet between them grew longer. Outside, the birds stirred in the trees. When Laila finally broke her silence, she spoke in a strained voice. "I need to know what the Ivory Veil really is. Not metaphors. Not poems in her journals." Yemisi's hands stopped mid-air. "Then you must go to the compound." Laila blinked. "What compound?" "The first safe house," Yemisi replied. "Under the hills outside Umuchika. That is where it began." Laila's head spun. She had never heard it before, only once, in the tail of a queue on a piece of paper her mother had written. One sentence: "Truth sleeps in Umuchika. Cassian would know where to look. And he would not let her go by herself. By mid-afternoon, they were on the road again. Cassian drove a nondescript sedan, the kind that disappeared easily in traffic. The pendant was tucked safely in a pouch around Laila's neck, and her mother's journal sat open on her lap, pages fluttering with the wind from the window. "You're sure this is safe?" she asked, not looking up. Cassian's hands were steady on the wheel. "Nothing about this is safe. But it's necessary." "That's what everybody keeps telling me," she muttered. He glanced at her. "You are Mira Okoye's daughter. That makes you a symbol, at least." "I don't want to be a symbol," Laila said quietly. "I just want the truth." "Symbols don't get to choose.". The road turned to red earth as they approached the hills. There were grasses tall like sentinels on either side, and an old gate half-submerged in the ground. Cassian drew the car to the side and stepped out, scanning the surroundings. Laila also stepped out, her heart pounding. "Where are we?" Cassian pointed to a cluster of trees. "There. Take a good look." She squinted, then gasped. Half-buried in dirt and vines, a structure materialized low, windowless concrete building with its door open like an open grave. They filtered in slowly. Inside was stale and dusty. Dust motes capered in thin beams of light. Laila's eyes cleared in the gloom to lines of file drawers, a broken projector, and a map sketched on the wall in chalk. It was more than a safe house. It had been a command center. Cassian marched ahead, sweeping cobwebs aside with his face. "Here was where the Veil was moving at the end. Before the Brotherhood broke in. Your mother barely escaped." Laila drew a line down a dusty table. "Why here?" "Because it was out of the way. And because nobody considered looking for revolution in ruined places.". She threw open a file cabinet at random. It was full of pages of handwritten reports, coded names, and photographs. Some were marked with red Xs. Others had missing."scribbled on them. "This is a graveyard," she breathed. Cassian nodded. "And a roadmap." Laila pulled out a folder labeled "Subject 14: O." Her heart stopped. "O as in Okoye?" she said. Cassian took the file from her gently, flipping through it. "Your mother wasn't just a member. She was their most trusted infiltrator. She got into Obasi's circle. Exposed his orphanage network." Laila clenched her fists. "He killed people." "Yes," Cassian said. "And you're going to finish what she started."Eventually, they were seated atop the compound, the sun dipping in a sea of gold and rust. Laila turned the pendant around and around in her palms. "I don't feel prepared," she admitted. "No one is," replied Cassian. "But you're not alone." She looked at him. "What do you have to do with this?" His eyes did not flicker. "Because my sister was in one of Obasi's camps. She didn't live." Laila's breath caught. He continued. "I swore to myself that if ever I had the chance to bring him down, I would do it. And now I have you. Which means we have hope." The silence that followed was no longer stifling. It was shared. Below them, the trees rustled in the wind. And in the distance, far away, the first star came to life. Laila Okoye would never hold her tongue again. The Ivory Veil was peeling away. And under it, the truth was waiting.
