Tamarakie

Ebilade walked down the busy streets of Lagos, his presence almost impossible to ignore. People parted around him, their gazes lingering for a moment longer than usual, though no one dared speak to him directly. His expression remained unreadable as the bustling city continued its daily rhythm, oblivious to the storm of power that had rippled through its foundation just the night before.

The sun was high, casting sharp shadows across the pavement, but the air was thick with the buzz of gossip. In every corner of the market, at every roadside food stall, in the crammed buses, people whispered in hushed voices, eyes darting toward one another as they exchanged stories of the night's inexplicable event.

A group of young men stood by a corner, their idle chatter interrupted by the occasional passing car. Their voices grew animated as they discussed the unusual event.