It was clear weather just a second ago.
The sky was not supposed to crack.
At least, that was what everyone believed.
It began with a low rumble.
Not thunder.
Something deeper, like the world itself was holding its breath.
People across Port Harcourt paused.
Mid step, mid conversation, mid life.
A mother pulling her child across the street stopped and looked up.A group of boys playing football froze as the ball rolled past them.
Even the wind fell still.
Silence.
Then a deafening crack tore through the sky.
It split open.
Not lightning, not a trick of the eye.
The heavens themselves fractured, a jagged tear stretching across the clouds. A faint glow pulsed within it, as though something on the other side was trying to break through.
Screams followed.
Some ran. Others stood frozen, phones raised with trembling hands.
But beneath the panic…
There was a feeling.
Heavy. Oppressive.
Like something ancient had just awakened.
Miles away, in a quiet neighborhood untouched by the chaos,
A boy sat at the edge of his bed.
Still.
Too still.
His name was Shango.
Sixteen.
Dark skinned, lean, with white dreadlocks resting against his shoulders.
Handsome, yet strangely easy to overlook, as if something about him blurred attention.
But right now…
His fingers trembled.
Not from fear.
From something else.
Something waking.
Another crack split the sky.
Wider this time.
Then lightning fell.
Blue.
Unnatural.
It did not scatter like a normal storm.
It moved, slow and deliberate.
Searching.
Shango's head snapped up.
His chest tightened.
His heartbeat slowed instead of racing.
Steady.
Controlled.
Wrong.
Not yet.
The voice was faint.
Ancient.
And it did not come from outside.
Shango froze.
Who…?
Pain answered him.
It surged through his body without warning, tearing through his veins like something trying to break free. He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest as his breath hitched.
This was not heat.
Not electricity.
It was something deeper.
Something his body was not meant to hold.
Outside,
The lightning stopped.
Hovered.
Then turned.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Toward him.
High above,
Beyond the fractured sky,
Something watched.
Not human.
Not kind.
And very aware.
"We found him."
The voice echoed across the heavens, vast and cold.
Another followed, sharper, laced with disbelief.
"That's impossible. His existence was erased."
A pause.
Then,
"And yet… the storm returns."
Back on Earth,
Shango screamed.
Not in fear.
In resistance.
As something sealed deep within him shifted.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
A spark escaped.
The explosion that followed shook the entire house.
The ground cracked beneath him. Windows shattered instantly, glass scattering across the floor. The lights surged wildly before bursting one after another, plunging the room into darkness.
For a brief, terrifying moment,
Blue lightning flickered across his skin.
Alive.
Breathing.
Then it vanished.
Everything went still.
The sky above sealed itself, the tear closing as if it had never existed.
The storm disappeared.
As though nothing had happened.
Silence returned.
But it was no longer empty.
It carried weight.
Awareness.
Expectation.
Shango lay on the floor, breathing hard.
Confused.
Shaking.
Alive.
What… was that?
No answer came.
But far beyond sight,
Beyond reach,
The gods were no longer asleep.
And they had just remembered his name.
Shango.