Esther's grandmother, Madam Chinwe, had always been an enigma—a woman who spoke in riddles and spent her time tending to the rare, non-native plants in her sprawling garden. Now, those riddles felt like warnings.
Driven by Samuel's revelation, Esther walked across the main campus to the university's massive, old-fashioned Faculty of Science library, specifically the section for ancient texts—her comfort zone. She was looking for a biography of Madam Chinwe, any mention of her work outside the university. She also needed to find anything on the Nkpume Ọdịnala.
She ran a finger over the spine of a massive, leather-bound book on Nigerian folklore, when a chilling voice spoke close to her ear.
"Searching for the source of your pet's leash, Esther?"
Fortune.
He materialized as silently as ever, leaning against the shelves, dressed impeccably in a silk shirt the colour of midnight. The air immediately grew crisp around them, carrying his familiar scent of cold stone and mint.
"He is not a pet," Esther said, turning to face him, drawing on the surprising calm she felt from Samuel's confession. She wouldn't let him see her fear.
"Of course not," Fortune chuckled, a dry, pleasant sound that did nothing to hide the malice in his pale eyes. "He is a weapon. A useful wolf-dog chained to his duty. Tell me, did he mention the other truth?"
"What truth?"
Fortune glided closer, his gaze sweeping the empty aisle to ensure their privacy. "The energy of the Foundation Stone is not inexhaustible. It's not a limitless battery. It requires a constant, living renewal."
Esther frowned. "Renewal how? Sacrifice?"
"My dear Esther, the wolves' ancestors were very clever in their preservation," Fortune purred, picking up a stray leaf from the ground and dissolving it to dust between his cold fingers. "To keep the balance and ensure their lineage's survival, they established a secondary pact with a specific line of mortals—a line of Keepers. A family whose natural vitality—their lifeforce—is intrinsically linked to the stone's stability. When a Keeper is nearby, the Change is controlled. When they die, the stone is weakened, and the wolf-pack falters."
He paused, letting the implication hang heavy in the air. "Guess what, Esther? Your grandmother, Madam Chinwe, was the Keeper. And the line of succession is hereditary. That lovely silver bloom necklace? It's a conduit. The moment your grandmother passed, the guardianship—and the terrible responsibility—fell to you."
Esther stumbled back, shaking her head. The pieces clicked with horrifying precision: her deep fatigue over the last few months, Samuel's desperate focus on her, the feeling that she was constantly being watched.
"The wolf is not protecting the city, Esther," Fortune whispered, his eyes gleaming like polished ice. "He is protecting his leash. He loves you, yes, but he needs you to survive. You are the source, the living battery that keeps the monster inside him contained."