CHAPTER XLIV

The city was already breathing differently.

Not with peace.Not with panic.

With pressure.

Everywhere Elara looked, something was ready to crack.

NUMA finished setting up the transmitter before sunrise.The signal was clean.The livestream would reach universities, public parks, transit terminals, even underground chatrooms.No more back channels.No more whispers.

Elara stood on the rooftop of an abandoned TV station.Below, thousands were gathering.

Not in anger.In clarity.

The Daughters were marching.

It had started with a single call.

A message Elara recorded and released overnight.

This is no longer about exposure.This is about presence.We are not asking for justice.We are standing for memory.

Come walk with us.If they erase one voice, let ten thousand rise behind her.

By morning, the message had reached cities across the country.Lagos. Ibadan. Kaduna. Enugu. Port Harcourt.

Women stood in school courtyards.Men held signs drawn by daughters.Survivors who had never spoken stood side by side with strangers who finally believed them.

Some wore black.Some wore red.Some brought nothing but themselves.

Khalid monitored the data spikes.

Over two hundred thousand live views.

Twenty eight synchronized marches.One goal.

NUMA tapped the main feed.

We go live in ten seconds.

Fatima took her place behind the camera.

Elara stepped forward.

The red scarf around her neck was Amara's.

The words in her chest were her own.

The screen flickered to life.

No music.No effects.

Just the sound of footsteps in every direction.A movement that sounded like memory returning.

Elara raised the microphone.

We were told to survive.We chose to speak.

We were told to obey.We chose to question.

And now, we are told to forget.We choose to remember.

As she spoke, the screen split.

Each quadrant showed another city.

Voices chanting.Signs lifted.

One read,They named us liars.We remember their names.

Another,We are not unstable.We are unbroken.

And another,Silence is what raised us.Truth is what saves us.

NUMA whispered, They are trying to jam the feed.

Khalid responded, Let them try.

We mirrored it to ten secondary relays.

Even if they kill the signal, they cannot kill the sound.

Elara continued.

I was born into a lie.But I will not die in one.

My sister bled to keep the truth alive.My mother disappeared so I could survive.

I now march with women who were meant to be forgotten.But we came back.

And we brought names.

Then the screen cut to a scroll of names.

Over three hundred women.Documented.Verified.Silenced.

Every name displayed for five full seconds.

Each one spoken aloud by different voices from the Daughters of Ash.

Halima's voice cracked over the third row.NUMA's tone was flat and defiant.Fatima read the final ten names herself.

Khalid watched from the back.

They are going to panic.

NUMA did not look away from the feed.

Let them.

Outside the station, the march reached the federal media office.

Not to burn.Not to break.

To speak.

Elara climbed a rusted van and raised a portable speaker.

The same voice from the livestream echoed across the street.

People stopped.

Drivers paused.

Security did not open fire.

They listened.

Because deep down, even the enforcers knew the truth.

They had daughters too.

Back inside, Fatima turned to NUMA.

You remember the building blueprints?

NUMA nodded.One more move.

Khalid raised an eyebrow.

What move?

Elara stepped off the van and entered the media building with the team.

They headed for the archives.

Old server rooms.

Untouched for years.

Inside were hard drives.

Original Council press edits.Wiped audio clips.Silenced broadcasts.

NUMA inserted a clone drive.

We copy everything.Then we release the original truths.

No more half stories.

Khalid stood guard as Fatima and NUMA worked.

Elara found a dusty stack of reels labeled Red Archive.

She held one up.

Dated the year Amara died.

This is it.

NUMA gave her a tired smile.

The last piece of the lie.

Outside, the march kept growing.

An aerial drone captured the movement.

Thousands forming the shape of an eye.Wide open.Unblinking.

By nightfall, the government made no comment.

The Council gave no press conference.

Because there was nothing left to say.

Only something to hear.

And this time, they were not the ones speaking.