The canoe scraped against Tark Island's rocky shore just as dawn bled across the horizon. Mist clung to the water, curling around jagged stones like restless spirits. The air was thick, humming with something unseen.
Zoba leapt out first, pulling the canoe into a hidden inlet. "Quick," she urged. "This place no dey safe for long."
Kafé and Taye followed, their bodies trembling from exhaustion, but their marks still pulsing faintly—like embers refusing to die. Imade climbed out last, iron rod in hand, eyes scanning the shadows.
Tark Island was no ordinary refuge. The ground was littered with ruins of old shrines, halfswallowed by vines. Symbols carved into stone glowed faintly when touched by the rising sun. The trees bent slightly as if bowing, and the lagoon mist curled into serpent shapes before fading.
Imade muttered, "This place dey look like graveyard wey dey breathe."
Zoba's voice was steady. "Na here Resistance dey hide. Na here prophecy dey wait."
Figures emerged from the mist—men and women cloaked in patched garments, their faces marked with scars and serpent tattoos. They carried weapons forged from scrap metal and charms etched with twinheaded serpent designs.
One elder stepped forward, his voice deep and weathered. "You brought them," he said to Zoba.
"Yes," she replied. "The twins of dawn."
The elder dipped his fingers in ash and traced twin spirals on the cavern wall, a ritual older than memory. His gaze lingered on Kafé and Taye. "Two flames. One prophecy. But only one dawn."
Inside a cavern lit by torches, the Resistance gathered. On the walls, murals depicted twin figures standing beneath a serpent with two heads—one of fire, one of water.
The elder spoke: "Long ago, the Order foresaw this. Two children born under storm, carrying resonance in their blood. One would rise as dawn, the other as dusk. Together, they hold balance. Apart, they invite ruin."
Kafé's chest tightened. "So na true… one of us go carry dawn, the other…?"
"Shadow," the elder finished. "And Red Shadow knows this. That is why he hunts you."
Taye clenched his fists. "All my life, dem dey use me like weapon. Koroba, the Order, now this prophecy. I no be relic. I no be shadow. I be human."
Kafé placed a hand on his shoulder. "We go choose our own path. Not them."
Imade stepped forward, iron rod raised. "Prophecy dey sweet una mouth, but na these boys dey carry the scars. Who go protect them when Red Shadow come?"
As the elder spoke, Kafé's wrist burned and Taye's chest glowed. The serpent mural shimmered, its twin heads turning as if alive. For a heartbeat, both boys felt the same vision: the serpent rising, its heads clashing in fire and water.
The cavern trembled faintly, dust falling from the ceiling.
The elder's eyes darkened. "Choice dey dangerous. If una resist destiny, dawn and dusk fit clash. And when serpent heads clash, world go burn."
Zoba's pendant glowed faintly, and the elders bowed slightly—not to her, but to what she carried.
She whispered, "The dawn dey wake. But Red Shadow dey close. Even here, his eyes dey watch. If una no prepare, prophecy go swallow una."
Outside, the sun broke fully over Tark Island. Its light struck the serpent murals, making both heads glow—fire and water. For a moment, the cavern seemed alive, as if the prophecy itself was watching.