The night was thick with rain.
Water streamed down the dust-coated windows of Roman Energy Systems, washing streaks of light over the compound's walls. The Abuja facility had been silent for months, shut down after Chief Roman's death — or so the world believed.
Inside, Engineer Kelechi Ibe watched the monitors glow faintly in the dark. He was alone on night duty, a caretaker of ghosts and failed experiments. The hum of backup generators was the only sound until, at 3:02 a.m., the monitors began to flicker.
Lines of code rippled across the screens — first random static, then structured, deliberate.
A red pulse coursed through the servers, and the old Roman Energy logo shimmered back to life.
Kelechi leaned forward. "No… that's impossible. The core's offline."
A moment later, a message appeared:
ACTIVATION SIGNAL: RECEIVED — SOURCE: JOS ORIGIN SITE
The hum deepened. The power surged. Lights flared across the compound like the return of a heartbeat.
Then the fragment — the broken piece of terracotta armour sealed inside its glass case — began to glow.
Its surface split with veins of red light. The hum turned into a low chant, almost human, echoing through the walls.
Kelechi stumbled backward as the servers began to speak:
DNA SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE.
TARGET MATCH: AMARA ROMAN.
His breath hitched. "Amara?"
The air grew heavy. The glass around the fragment cracked once, twice, then shattered — and from within, a dust-like light crawled out, spreading across the floor like living mist.
It reached the computers, the wires, the walls — absorbing everything in its path.
Then came the voice — layered, ancient, neither male nor female:
> "The seal is undone. The blood of the maker has spoken."
Kelechi screamed as the dust surged toward him. The monitors went black, save for one pulsing symbol — a spiral eye, burning crimson.
PHASE ONE: INITIATED.
LOCATING REMAINING VESSELS.
The compound fell silent.
---
Washington D.C. — 03:47 a.m. (Local Time)
Thousands of miles away, in a glass-walled penthouse overlooking the Potomac River, a secured terminal blinked to life. The skyline of Washington shimmered with fog and distant lightning.
Behind the desk, Chief Roman sat alone in the dim light, dressed in a tailored black suit, eyes fixed on the encrypted alert streaming across his screen:
PRIORITY ALERT — REACTIVATION DETECTED (NOK SITE — JOS, NIGERIA)
BIO-SIGNAL TRACE: AMARA ROMAN.
He stared at the name for a long moment, expression unreadable.
Then he exhaled softly and pressed a button on his desk.
"Get me Security Command," he said.
A voice crackled through the speaker — Director Vann, his head of covert operations.
"Sir, we've had a containment breach in the Abuja compound. The dormant relic fragment reactivated on its own. We… lost one of our engineers. System logs indicate a bio-link. The target ID matches your daughter."
Roman's hand tightened on the edge of the desk. "You're certain?"
"Positive. The signal originated from the Jos Plateau — from the origin site itself."
Roman rose slowly, turning toward the wide window. Washington's night lights shimmered across his reflection — a ghost of a man the world believed dead.
"Then she's found it," he murmured. "The armour has awakened."
"What are your orders, sir?"
Roman turned back to the screen where the ancient Nok symbol pulsed faintly — the same spiral that had once haunted his research.
His tone hardened. "Activate Protocol R-Nine. Deploy a recovery unit to Jos immediately. I want the armour secured and transported to Dulles under diplomatic cover."
"And the girl?" Vann asked.
Roman's eyes narrowed. "If Amara is in contact with the relic, she's compromised. Bring her in — alive if possible. But the armour is priority one."
"Yes, sir."
The line clicked dead.
Roman leaned forward and tapped the fragment of terracotta sitting on his desk — another relic, inert but warm beneath his fingers. A faint tremor ran through it, responding to the distant pulse across the ocean.
A thin smile touched his lips.
"They thought the gods were dead," he whispered. "But power never dies. It only waits to be claimed."
Outside, thunder rolled across the Potomac.
From the skies above Dulles Air Force Base, two unmarked aircraft lifted into the storm, heading east — toward Nigeria, toward the origin site, and toward the daughter who had unknowingly rekindled the curse.
--