The last few weeks in the ER passed in a dizzying haze. We ate, slept, and ran through the same arguments over and over—because tomorrow's meeting with Sankoré's head could decide whether we walk out of here alive. The Sankorés rank just behind the Mensahs in influence—and they don't forgive mistakes.
I rubbed my temples as I flipped through our notes. "Tajudeen's playing the cheap card, same as Kinga did—no guts, just loopholes."
Hadal leaned over. "Show me."
I handed him a printout of Rule 25, Section A, from the Shalu Academy handbook: "Any use of flow energy that threatens a person's life is punishable by expulsion or suspension."
Hadal sighed, not with relief but exhaustion. "It works, but remember—you threw the first punch. He'll cite Rule 94, Section C: 'A flow user may defend themselves if their life is at risk.'"
I frowned. "But 25 overrides that. He threatened the professor's life first—I only stopped him."
"Only if he completed the attack and the professor was harmed. You intercepted him. He'll argue you acted preemptively." He tapped the paper. "There's wiggle room in interpretation."
We shared a frustrated look. All we'd collected so far: the beach report, the scrap of cloth with the aether glyph, our fight with the terror beast—and no eyewitnesses. Our only hope: Sankoré doesn't demand firsthand testimony.
A steady clip of heels echoed down the hallway. The door swung open. Chioma stepped in, crisp in her black uniform and lance-corp armband. Her gaze slid between us, pinning us to our chairs. "We leave in thirty minutes," she said. "Be ready."
"Yes, Ma'am." She spun and clicked the door shut so we could wrench into our uniforms. When we emerged, changed and silent, she snapped, "This way, boys—Stillwell's office."
We trailed her to the elevator. The hush rattled my nerves because it left only my lousy thoughts, and I just wanted this storm to blow over. Who knew what hell awaited us in that meeting?
Chioma pivoted, her hands clenched on the rail. "Don't freak out. You're one of us, and we'll gut anyone who threatens our own." Her awkward reassurance did almost nothing to calm me, but it was better than nothing.
"Thank you, Ma'am." I dipped my head. I jabbed Hadal in the ribs to drag him out of la-la land. The elevator pinged; she bolted down the hallway toward the boardroom without a backward glance.
The boardroom yawned before us: a giant table, sleek black surface, chioma and Rose on one side with Stillwell, and empty seats opposite for our so-called "guests." Stillwell beckoned us to her side. "You boys know we get one shot. Stick to the plan—exactly how I told you." Her glare cut off as the double doors groaned open.
An assistant, lance-corp insignia pinned to her blouse, bowed. "Madam Stillwell, the Sankorés are here and ready."
No hesitation: Stillwell, Chioma, and Rose stormed out. "You two sit tight. You're not trained for royal etiquette—just… stay quiet." And they were gone.
Hadal whispered, "I wonder how many scars his highness's face wears now." I pinched my thigh to smother a laugh. "Not now, idiot." But yeah—could I even keep a straight face when he's sporting a dented skull?
I exhaled, braced. "Just shut up and follow the plan, you dimwit."
"As the brave challenger of fate and your trusty, handsome sidekick, I guarantee we'll nail this," Hadal smirked, leaning back. "Relax."
"If I never see Nigeria again after beating one of Sankoré's sons, it'll be too soon," I muttered. A crackdown of voices drifted closer outside the soundproof doors.
BANG.
The doors exploded open. A suited man rocketed in, fist first. We tensed—injured, yes, but not helpless. He swung. We dodged. He spun, launching a spinning kick at my skull. Too easy—like he was toying with me. I ducked, slid under, and swept his legs. He crashed—but righted himself with a one-armed handstand, then booted me across the room. My back radiated agony when I hit.
On the floor, I saw Tajudeen smirk, and Rose, Chioma, Stillwell stared away, mouthing "sorry."
"Not bad, commoner." He hovered with arrogant grace. He offered a gloved hand; I grimaced but took it. He yanked me upright, then tossed the glove aside like yesterday's trash. Nice gesture, but royalty stays royalty.
"Let's start." They took seats where we'd just vacated. Chioma hustled our notes away; Rose raised a clipboard. Stillwell motioned me over—obviously arranged to belittle us.
Tajudeen sneered at Stillwell. "Fetch us drinks, cow-chest." She obeyed, silent fury in her shoulders.
"All right, sit. We're beginning." He plopped down and started lecturing. "No minutes, no interruptions. You'll speak only when permitted."
We exchanged glances; Chioma closed her laptop, Rose stuck the clipboard under her arm. Tajudeen quirked a smile. "Ah, Rose of the Mensah house—still playing dutiful bride, I see."
He leaned back. "Soon you and I wed—two of Africa's mightiest families."
Rose's forced smile crumbled. "Th-thank you, sir."
He laughed and taunted us. "Royals stick together and mock poor bloods, yes?"
When Stillwell attempted to salvage the agenda, Paul cut her off. "We have only one topic: the spat between Tajudeen and these servants."
"My niece told me the basics, but I want your side, you low lifers. Speak!" His blood-red eyes glowed like predator lasers.
We froze, forgetting our lines under that glare.
"Speak, or I'll throttle you myself."
Hadal straightened. "Sir, we retaliated after Tajudeen kidnapped a Shalu Academy professor." Paul's eyes dimmed back to normal. "Continue."
Hadal pressed on. "He abducted the professor for some so-called trial. We don't know why he 'tested' us—only that he seized an innocent."
Tajudeen's face twisted. "I only did that because he struck me first! What would people think if Tajudeen Sankoré let a commoner hit me unpunished?"
I rose. "With all due respect—" My throat seized under a red aura, squeezing like metal. Paul lifted me by aura alone. "Remember the rules—no speaking without leave."
He tossed me into my chair. Hadal shot me a worried glance but kept going. "Sir, the entire class witnessed his attempt to kill the professor."
" it was a 'light kick' infused with flow energy," Tajudeen retorted.
Hadal's voice cut sharper than a blade. "Light? you targeted a non-flow user. One strike could've killed him or left him writhing until death."
A smug hush. Rose and Chioma exchanged proud looks.
Paul glowered. "Sit." He pointed at me. "You stand."
"Anything else?" His arms crossed, trying to cloak his fury in dignity.
I drew myself up. "Yes— tajudeen used illegal mutation flow art, know as the mutant beast flow art from the Invader War." Paul snorted. "Irrelevant. Without proof, it's fantasy."
I held his gaze. "Ask: if a soul-cleansing blast struck those mutated victims, would it reverse the Beast Mutation's effect?"
"Oh, that is quite amusing." Paul said, settling back with the patience of a man who has never once been wrong. "Not only would such a blast heal them entirely—it would restore them to a state more pure than birth. Every impurity, every roadblock in their blessing percentages, simply gone. You understand what that means, yes? It means a power of that kind cannot exist. It is a logical impossibility. But please, do go on believing otherwise."
"Elder Sankoré," I said, adopting a formal edge, "may I request live testimonials to prove his crimes?"
Paul's eyes burned a deeper red at Tajudeen. "If you can produce evidence of forbidden art in three days, fine. Fail, and your neck snaps."
Angela fluttered in with drinks. They ignored her except to snatch glasses without thanks.
"I'll be watching your progress. Don't disappoint me."