Citadel Lower Rings, Market VaultThe passkey glimmered behind the trader’s glass, a sliver of tech small enough to fit in a palm, powerful enough to open half the Citadel’s veins. Abigail’s eyes locked on it like it was oxygen.“Now,” she whispered.Samuel muttered something about bad ideas but moved anyway. He slipped a hand beneath his jacket, pulling the trader’s attention with a clink of credits while Abigail slid the case’s latch.The siren wailed.Panels snapped shut over the stall. Red beams cut across the alley. Drones dropped like vultures, their lights blinding.“Run!” Samuel barked.They bolted through the steam, shoving past workers and crates, drones screaming overhead. A blast hit the wall beside Abigail, showering sparks across her jacket. She didn’t stop. Neither did Samuel.But at the next bend, black-armored guards closed in. They didn’t shout, didn’t warn, just raised their shock rifles.Abigail skidded to a halt. Samuel clenched his fists.And then… silence.The g
Eko Citadel, Observation Garden, NightTunde had walked until the applause in his head burned itself out.Until Abigail’s voice no longer rang like a blade.Until even Samuel’s truth, she’s gone, stopped replaying in his ears.But silence didn’t bring peace. It only left him with the ache.The Observation Garden was empty at this hour, lit by soft white lamps hidden in the roots of engineered trees. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and citrus, too clean, almost unreal. A stream trickled between smooth stones, its sound too perfect, like it had been rehearsed. Tunde sat on the edge of the fountain and pressed his palms into his eyes until he saw sparks. He thought of his mother’s cough, of her voice humming under the leaking roof, of the way Abigail had looked at him before the alarms dragged her away.He didn’t notice her at first.A woman sat across the fountain, sketchbook balanced on her knees, hair tumbling in loose coils around her face. She looked up only when his ragged breat
The final note still hung in the air when the lights shifted, flooding the stage in gold. The applause came like a wave, polite at first, then rising into something almost reverent. Tunde bowed, but his eyes were already searching the shadows beyond the glow.As the platform lowered into the backstage bay, drones swooped in to capture close-up shots of his face. He smiled for them, the smile Makan had taught him, then turned toward the dressing corridor.And stopped.Abigail stood there. Dust still clung to her boots, her jacket zipped to the throat. Samuel was just behind her, scanning every shadow like he expected an ambush.For a heartbeat, no one spoke.Then Tunde exhaled, his voice low. “What are you doing here?”“You think we’d just leave you here?” Abigail said, stepping forward. “This isn’t you, Tunde. You’re singing their songs, wearing their chains. You’ve let Makan into your head.”“I’m fine,” he said, but it came out too sharp, too fast. “You don’t know what you’re talking
Eko Citadel, Concert Hall, NightTunde stood in the center of a stage that wasn’t a stage but a floating platform of light, suspended above a sea of glowing faces.The concert hall was shaped like a blooming flower, glass petals arching high above the audience. Holographic birds wheeled across the ceiling. A choir of projected voices harmonized softly, waiting for him to begin.His robe shimmered white and gold under the lights. A crown of soft holographic rays circled his head.“Are you ready?” a voice said in his earpiece.Tunde swallowed. “No.”“Good,” came the reply. “Only the ready ones sound dead.”The lights dimmed. The crowd hushed.And he began to sing.---Citadel Border, Scan ZoneThe hauler slowed.Abigail tensed, peering through the vent. Checkpoint.Guards in black Citadel armor circled the hauler. One held a glowing scanner that swept the sides of the vehicle.Samuel’s breathing quickened.“Stay still,” she hissed.A beam of blue light washed over the compartment. She h
Eko Citadel, Celestia StudiosThe studio……, oh the studio, it was a chatedral; not to God, to perfection.Light bled through glass walls etched with shifting patterns, like the room itself was alive. The air hummed with faint harmonics from sound-dampening fields. A choir of holograms floated around him, reacting to his breath, filling in harmonies he didn’t have to ask for.Tunde stood in the booth barefoot, the floor beneath him glowing faintly with each step. A single note in his throat could make the room respond, the panels tuning themselves to his range, the orchestra adjusting to his rhythm.The track began: a slow swell of strings, a drum that sounded like a heartbeat under rubble, a haunting synth line that reminded him of wind through a broken window.He closed his eyes.And sang.It came out raw at first, gravel on silk, then steadied into something deeper, smooth, mournful, alive. The Citadel tech could scrub every imperfection, polish every line, but it couldn’t fake the
EKO CITADELThe cuffs came off with a sharp click, leaving red rings on Tunde’s wrists. He rubbed them absently as the heavy doors slid open, flooding the corridor with warm, golden light.“Welcome to the Citadel, Tunde,” Makan said, his voice calm, almost fatherly.If the interrogation room had been a cage, this place was an illusion of freedom. The floor beneath his feet glowed faintly with embedded light strips, the walls curved and alive with soft-moving displays of distant forests, oceans, and skies that didn’t exist anymore. The air smelled of jasmine and something sweeter, synthetic but clean.Tunde didn’t answer. His ribs still ached from the Fangs, and now his mind buzzed with the weight of being here, inside the dream, walking on its polished bones.Makan glanced back at him. “I had you brought to me for a reason. You’ve been playing a dangerous game. But you’re useful. And I value usefulness.”He gestured for Tunde to follow.They walked through a wide atrium lined with lev