The Stars Remember
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### **CHAPTER THREE**
The rain had stopped sometime before dawn, but Lagos still glistened under a sky that hadn't fully decided what it wanted to be — blue or grey, soft or stormy.
Anike hadn't slept.
She sat in the heart of the Archive, barefoot and silent, her fingers lightly tracing the glowing sigils carved into the floor. They pulsed softly, in rhythm with her heartbeat — a heartbeat she was beginning to believe wasn't entirely her own.
She had remembered things that didn't belong to this world.
And the terrifying part?
They belonged to her.
Obiora moved quietly around the room. He didn't disturb her thoughts. Instead, he lit oil lamps, adjusted the books hovering mid-air, and watched her from a respectful distance — like a guardian unsure if his presence would ground her or unmake her.
Anike finally looked up.
"Did I really… live all of that?"
Obiora nodded slowly. "Not just live. You ruled. You sacrificed. You bled and fought. And you loved — fiercely."
A pause.
"Mostly… me."
Her eyes softened. "How did I forget you?"
He exhaled, coming to kneel beside her. "Every lifetime, your memory resets after your death. A piece of the curse. I always remember. You… remember late, or not at all."
"But why?"
"Because your magic is the key to breaking the curse. And Orunzo knew that. He couldn't kill you, so he scattered your memory like dust in the wind. Each life, you grow up again — ordinary, unknowing. Until something cracks, and everything begins again."
Anike swallowed, her throat dry. "And now that I remember?"
Obiora's gaze darkened, but not unkindly. "Now… he's coming."
---
They left the Archive just before the store opened.
Obiora had charmed the room behind a ward — a shimmering veil of blue that would burn anyone who tried to cross it uninvited. As they stepped back into Ọ̀rọ̀ Books, Anike felt the shift instantly — like being unplugged from a powerful source. The store felt quieter. Smaller.
"I don't want to go back to my life like this," she said softly. "It feels like a lie now."
Obiora handed her a warm puff-puff from the brown bag he picked up downstairs. "It's not a lie. It's a part of you. But it's not all of you."
They sat behind the register desk, hidden from street view, eating in silence. The Lagos streets were stirring outside — distant car horns, laughing school kids, shouting traders. Life kept moving.
And yet, Anike felt like she was moving in a different current entirely.
"Do my parents know?" she asked suddenly. "About me. About… who I really am?"
Obiora paused mid-chew.
"No. Not in this lifetime. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't. This time, they're just parents. Good ones. Ordinary. They've raised you with love, but without memory."
"So I'm alone in this."
"You're never alone," he said, meeting her gaze. "I've waited lifetimes for you."
---
That night, the dreams came again.
She was floating.
Not flying — not soaring like the birds — but *floating,* like mist curling through light. Below her, the sky bled into a sea of stars. And above her, something ancient stirred.
A voice.
> "She remembers, and so must we…"
She turned in the dream and saw her reflection — not in a mirror, but in the sky itself.
She wore a crown of blue fire. Her skin shimmered like glass laced with gold. Her eyes held storms. She looked regal. Fearless. Terrifying.
But behind her stood two shadows.
Obiora. And Orunzo.
One glowed like dawn.
The other like the end of time.
---
She woke up gasping.
Her bedsheet tangled around her legs. Her heart was racing. Her phone screen flashed a new message.
**Obiora \[04:16am]: Meet me at the rooftop of the old university library by 6. Come alone. It's important.**
Anike stared at the message, her skin tingling.
She typed:
> **Anike \[04:19am]: What's happening?**
No reply.
---
The old library stood near the lagoon, abandoned since a fire gutted the lower floor years ago. Most people avoided it, claiming it was haunted or cursed. Even street kids didn't linger there after dark.
But as Anike stepped onto the crumbling rooftop at 6:02am, the place didn't feel cursed. It felt… sacred.
The sun was barely peeking through a veil of grey clouds. And Obiora stood at the edge of the rooftop, back to her, his coat flapping gently in the wind.
"You came," he said without turning.
"You asked."
He turned now. His face was serious, but his eyes — those eyes — still held warmth. "He's in the city."
Anike felt her stomach drop.
"Orunzo?"
Obiora nodded. "I felt him breach the Veil last night. It's starting. He'll come for you soon."
She took a step closer. "Why now? Why not before?"
"Because you remember now. And because something changed this time. Your power is stronger. You woke the Archive yourself. That hasn't happened in thousands of years."
Anike swallowed. "So what do we do?"
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small glass vial — glowing with pale blue light.
"This contains a piece of your original magic. It's called *Epo Irawọ* — the oil of the stars. It can unlock your memory fully. No visions, no fragments. Everything."
Her eyes widened. "Why didn't you give this to me earlier?"
"Because once you drink it, there's no going back. You'll become her again — fully. You'll feel the weight of every loss, every life, every choice you've ever made. The joy and the sorrow."
Anike took the vial from his hand. It was warm. Buzzing slightly.
"Will it hurt?"
"Yes," he said honestly. "But it will also make you whole."
She held it to her lips, paused.
"Will you stay with me… if I change?"
"I never left."
She closed her eyes.
And drank.
---
It was like fire and lightning collided in her chest.
She screamed.
Not out of pain — but release.
Every lifetime flooded her at once. Her first breath as Queen Aniké of the Sky Kingdom. Her betrayal by her sister in the Hall of Mirrors. Her coronation beside Obiora, when he swore fealty as Commander of the Celestial Guard. Her last kiss before the war. The sound of his scream when she fell from the stars.
Then Lagos again.
Then now.
When it ended, she fell to her knees, sobbing.
And Obiora caught her — as he always had.
"I remember everything," she whispered. "And I'm not afraid anymore."
---
That night, the stars over Lagos shimmered brighter than they had in a thousand years.
But not everyone celebrated.
In a hidden mansion built into the cliffs of Ikoyi, Orunzo stood before a wall of mirrors — each one showing a different memory, a different Anike, a different ending.
In all of them, he lost.
But this time… he smiled.
"Now we begin," he said, reaching for the sword sealed in obsidian. "Let the gods bear witness — I will not lose her again."
---
Meanwhile, in a small café in Yaba, Anike and Obiora sat across from each other — two souls tethered by eternity, now fully awake.
"What happens now?" she asked, sipping tea from a chipped mug.
Obiora leaned forward, his hand brushing hers. "Now… we write the ending ourselves."
"And this time?"
"This time," he said, smiling for the first time in days, "we don't let go."
---