The hum of insects filled the air, a constant chorus in the humid dusk of Ugbene. The village lay nestled in the crook of the land like a quiet secret, wrapped in the dense embrace of the tropical forest. In the distance, the murmur of the river could be heard—its waters moving swiftly, as if rushing to escape some unseen force.
But before he ever set foot in Ugbene, Dr. Alaric Voss had seen her.
It had come to him weeks before—somewhere between sleep and delirium, when his fever was at its worst after a failed expedition in the Congolese rainforest. He had been lying in a dim hospital tent, half-mad with heat and visions, when she appeared. A woman, standing barefoot in a ring of fire, her skin marked with glowing symbols. Her eyes—dark and endless—had looked straight through him, as if peeling apart every layer of his being.
She had not spoken with words. Instead, her presence had poured into him like liquid fire, and he heard the voice of something older than time whisper:
"Find the keeper of fire. She walks with gods. Your salvation lies in her heart… and your heart in her salvation."
He had jolted upright, gasping for air, drenched in sweat. But the vision clung to him. He could still smell the woodsmoke. Still feel the heat of her presence. Still hear her heartbeat in his chest like a second rhythm, echoing beside his own.
After he recovered, the dreams continued. Always her. Always the fire. Always the Codex.
So when the old missionary in Enugu mentioned Ugbene and the ancient knowledge buried there, he knew—without reason, without proof—that the place existed, and that she was there.
Now, standing at the edge of the village as the sun bled into the earth, he saw her in the flesh.
Amarachi Nwosu.
The same eyes. The same markings. The same fire beneath her skin.
She was real.
And yet, as she stood facing him, she was not the ethereal being from his visions. She was solid, human, and breathtaking in a way that made his chest tighten. Her beauty was not delicate—it was fierce and grounded. Her body curved with strength, her skin deep like polished obsidian kissed by flame. Her hair coiled around her shoulders like dark vines, and the sigils etched along her arms glowed faintly in the low light, as though remembering him.
He was momentarily lost in the surreal overlap between memory and reality.
"You're the one," he said softly, almost reverently. "Amarachi Nwosu."
Amarachi narrowed her gaze. She had seen his face, too—in flickers of vision, in restless dreams—but she had never expected him to feel so… familiar.
As if he had always been coming.