Chapter 12

Outside, the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the school grounds. Cassandra sat at her table in the canteen, her untouched donuts growing cold. She’d stopped crying, but the ache in her chest hadn’t dulled. Her thoughts drifted to Samantha—prickly, stubborn Samantha—and she wondered if she’d been too harsh earlier. They weren’t exactly friends, not in the warm, easy way others were, but there was a thread between them, frayed and unspoken. Maybe it was their shared jagged edges, the way they both carried burdens too heavy for their years.

Her phone buzzed, jolting her from her reverie. A text from Angel: Where’d you go? Tony’s looking for Samantha now. Drama central. Cassandra rolled her eyes but typed a quick reply: Canteen. She’s fine, just moody. She hit send and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. Drama central, indeed. But beneath her irritation, a flicker of worry stirred. Samantha’s “stress” didn’t feel like the usual teenage angst. Something was off—something bigger.

That night, Samantha sat cross-legged on her bed, her notebook open in her lap. The house was quiet, her parents downstairs watching business news on Channels Television, their muffled voices drifting up through the floorboards. She’d written everything she could remember about the visions, the pages now a messy sprawl of ink and half-formed thoughts. The warrior’s face stared back at her from a rough sketch—high cheekbones, fierce eyes—drawn with more care than she’d intended.

A soft knock on her door made her jump. “Sam?” Her mother’s voice, gentle and tentative, filtered through the wood. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Samantha called, quickly shoving the notebook under her pillow. The door opened, and her mom stepped inside, her dark hair pulled into a loose bun. She wore a faded university sweatshirt, her expression soft but searching.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” her mom said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Everything okay?”

Samantha hesitated, Tony’s words echoing in her mind. Parents know things. She studied her mother’s face—familiar, warm, but suddenly foreign in the context of Cassandra’s cryptic hint. “Mom,” she began, her voice unsteady, “did anything… weird ever happen to you? Like, when you were my age?”

Helen's smile tightened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face before she smoothed it away. “Weird how?” she asked, her tone light, almost playful.

“Like… seeing things. Visions.” Samantha’s heart thudded as she spoke, her eyes locked on her mom’s. “Stuff that doesn’t make sense.”

Helen paused, then laughed softly—a sound that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Visions? Oh, sweetie, no. I mean, I had some wild dreams as a teenager, but that’s all they were—dreams. Stress, probably. Your dad’s work was always a lot, even back then. Nothing like what you’re talking about, though.”

Samantha frowned, sensing the dodge.

Helen’s expression didn’t falter, but her fingers twitched slightly against the bedspread. "Sixteen years ago, I was pregnant with you, exhausted, hormonal—that’s it. No visions, no spooky stuff. Just a tired mom-to-be.” She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Samantha’s face. “Why? Are you having dreams like that?”

Samantha swallowed, the lie in her mother’s voice gnawing at her. “Not dreams—visions. During the day. I’m awake, and they just… happen. There’s this warrior, and a shadow, and a voice calling my name. It’s freaking me out.”

Helen’s hand froze for a fraction of a second before she pulled it back, folding it in her lap. “Oh, honey,” she said, her tone syrupy with reassurance. “That sounds like stress to me. You’ve got so much going on—school, your dad’s launch. It’s probably nothing. But if it keeps happening, we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Samantha stared at her, the unease in her gut deepening. Helen’s words were smooth, too smooth, and her eyes didn’t quite meet hers. “Okay,” she said, her voice flat, unconvinced.

Helen kissed her forehead and stood, her smile unwavering. “Get some rest, Sam. Big night tomorrow with the launch.” She left, closing the door softly behind her.

Down the street, Cassandra lay awake in her own bed, the house silent except for the faint hum of the twins’ TV downstairs. Her mother’s photo glowed on her phone screen, a lifeline to a past she couldn’t reclaim. But as she stared at it, a memory surfaced—something her mom had said years ago, when Cassandra was small and the world still made sense. “You’re stronger than you know, Cassy. One day, you’ll help someone carry their fight.”

She frowned, the words tugging at her like a half-remembered dream. Samantha’s face flashed in her mind—sweaty, shaken, lost in whatever storm was brewing inside her. Cassandra didn’t know why, but she felt it: their paths were tangled, bound by something neither of them could yet see.

Outside, the wind rustled the trees, whispering secrets neither girl was ready to hear. Destiny or doom, it was coming—for both of them. And when it arrived, they’d face it together, whether they wanted to or not.

The night of the Moferso tech glasses launch buzzed with anticipation, the air thick with the hum of excitement and the faint scent of expensive cologne. The venue—a sleek, modern hall in Lagos—gleamed under the glow of crystal chandeliers and LED screens flashing previews of the revolutionary glasses. Jonathan, the mastermind behind the protection of the event and Moferso, stood at the center of it all, his tailored suit sharp and his demeanor sharper. Flanked by his top security team, their earpieces crackling with updates, he scanned the room with a practiced eye. But his focus wasn’t on the tech elite or the flashing cameras—it was on Chief Gabriel Omoshola, Samantha’s father and a man whose influence stretched far beyond the corporate world. Chief Ogbeifun, Tony's father who was Cheif Gabriel's partner had designed Moferso with Gabriel in mind, a personal tribute to the chief’s vision of a tech-driven future.

The crowd erupted as Wizkid took the stage, his voice weaving through the air, pulling even the stiffest suits into a sway. Aliko Dangote sat near the front, his presence a quiet stamp of approval, his sharp eyes missing nothing. The Moferso glasses—touted as a blend of augmented reality and seamless connectivity—promised to redefine how people saw the world, and tonight, they were the star. But not everyone was caught up in the hype.

Cassandra sat alone at a table in the corner, her arms crossed, her face a mask of indifference. She’d fought tooth and nail to be here. At home, her stepmother Oge was conveniently absent—off somewhere, Cassandra didn’t care to know—leaving her to wrangle with the twins, Faith and Rachel. The girls had sneered at her request to attend the launch, their voices dripping with mockery. “Why do you even care about some dumb glasses? Stay home and sulk like always,” Faith had snapped, while Rachel twirled a lock of hair and smirked. It had taken every ounce of Cassandra’s patience—and a bribe of her favorite earrings—to get them to relent. Now, at 10 p.m., as the launch kicked off, she was here, but she ignored everyone—her classmates, the chatter, the spectacle.

Her eyes flicked across the room and landed on Samantha, who stared back from a few tables away. Samantha’s gaze was intense, searching, but Cassandra turned her face away, her jaw tightening. She didn’t want pity, didn’t want questions. Tony, though, wasn’t so easily deterred. He slid into the seat beside her, his lanky frame relaxed but his eyes sharp with concern.

“You’re doing that thing again,” he said, his voice low over Wizkid’s fading chorus. “Sitting like you’re allergic to people. What’s up?”

Cassandra glared at him, but he didn’t budge. With a sigh, she stood and jerked her head toward the exit. “Not here,” she muttered. They slipped outside, the noise of the launch fading as they found a quieter spot near the parking lot, the night air cool against their skin. She leaned against a wall, her arms still crossed, and finally spoke.

“My mom died when I was seven,” she said, her voice flat but trembling at the edges. “She was about to have another kid—my brother or sister, I don’t know. They both didn’t make it. Dad remarried fast—too fast. Oge came in, all smiles at first, promising to be there for me. Then the twins happened, and I was just… in the way. Faith and Rachel—they’re her real kids. I’m the leftover. Dad’s too busy with his big launches and his new family to care.”

Tony listened, his face still, but his eyes softened. “That’s heavy, Cass. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well, now you do,” she snapped, then softened. “Sorry. It’s just… tonight’s supposed to be this big deal, but it’s all fake to me. Another toy for the rich.”

Inside, the launch rolled on. Chief Ogbeifun unveiled the Moferso glasses—sleek, lightweight, with lenses that shimmered like liquid crystal—detailing their ability to overlay data, connect seamlessly, and “see what others can’t.” The crowd applauded, but the event was more than tech. Chief Gabriel Omoshola mingled with top society figures, his wife Helen at his side, radiant in a flowing gown. She laughed and chatted with the elite, while Aggie, their househelps was used as a young server, darted between them with trays of drinks. Outside, Paul and Patrick—were used as two burly security guards—directed traffic, barking orders to keep the parking lot from descending into chaos.

But Helen’s mind wasn’t fully on the launch. As she excused herself from the group and stepped into the cool night air, the world shifted. One moment she was on the polished steps of the venue; the next, she stood in a dense forest, the air thick with moss and the rustle of unseen creatures. Before her stood the Queen Mother, her presence commanding, her eyes glinting like polished obsidian.

“You invited your uncle here, didn’t you?” the Queen Mother said, her voice a low growl.

Helen’s breath hitched. “I didn’t know he’d come. Maybe Gabriel did.”

Uncle Mike—Helen’s uncle and a wizard of dark repute—lurked somewhere in the crowd tonight. He’d been a thorn in the side of the Daughters of Hilda, the coven Helen served, ever since Helen got broken from the ranks of the Uchichis years ago. His power rivaled theirs, and his vendetta was personal.

“You know he’s our top enemy now,” the Queen Mother pressed.

“Yes, I do,” Helen replied, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest.

“Then do something fast about it. Don’t forget you promised us two men from Agbor to be sacrificed.”

“I won’t fail you, ma,” Helen said, bowing her head slightly.

The Queen Mother’s gaze sharpened.

Helen frowned when she said“You appeared to Samantha. Why?”

Helen frowned. “I didn’t—”

“This is only the beginning,” the Queen Mother cut in, and with that, she vanished, leaving Helen alone in the forest. A blink later, Helen was back at the launch, her heels clicking on the steps as if nothing had happened. Her mind raced. Samantha’s visions—she hadn’t connected them to the coven until now. But there was no time to dwell. She remembered that the Queen Mother demanded her Uncle, Mike but the Queen Mother had gone and her Uncle was too powerful for her to hold so she had to let it go. She spotted two young men from Agbor,her workers—drivers, lingering near the catering table—and approached with a warm smile, offering them plates of jollof rice and chicken. They grinned, unsuspecting, as she wove a subtle charm into the food. Moments later, their souls drifted, unseen, to the altar of the Daughters of Hilda, their bodies slumping gently against a wall, unnoticed in the chaos.

Back outside, Cassandra and Tony rejoined the fringes of the event. Samantha approached, her expression tense. “Cassandra,” she started, but Cassandra cut her off.

“Your dad’s big launch—it’s all for people like him,” Cassandra said bitterly. “He can’t even make a food product, something the poor could use. This tech? It’ll never reach their hands. Just another rich man’s game.”

Samantha stared at her, then nodded slowly. “Maybe you’re right. But something’s wrong here. I can feel it.”

The night stretched on, the Moferso glasses gleaming under the lights, a symbol of progress—or something darker. Helen watched from the sidelines, Uncle Mike’s shadow looming in her mind, the Queen Mother’s warning echoing. Samantha’s visions, Cassandra’s pain, and the coven’s hunger wove together, threads of a tapestry still unraveling. Destiny or doom, it was only the beginning.