C4 The Girl in the Amber Light

Morning filtered through the cracked blinds of Adekolade’s room, tossing soft golden stripes across the chaos of scattered notes, training logs, and half-finished sketches. It had been another night of fractured sleep. Every time he drifted off, he jolted awake with the same vision blazing behind his eyelids.

The girl.

The battlefield.

The fire.

He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. His body still held echoes of that strange strength he’d felt during yesterday’s fight with the street thugs. Strength that moved like living lightning, though he had no idea how to control it.

His phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Meet me at Memorial Park. 8 a.m. Come alone.

A trap? Probably.

But something tugged at him, soft as a finger tracing his spine. A pull he recognized even though he didn’t understand it.

He checked the time.

7:42.

“Guess I’m going,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket.

Outside, the city was waking up. Street hawkers were setting up their stalls. Motorcycles buzzed and weaved through half-awake commuters. The sky was a pale blue stretching like a fresh page. He walked quickly, head down, keeping his eyes sharp.

The park was quiet when he entered. Dew dusted the grass, and the air smelled like trees remembering last night’s rain.

At the center of the park, standing beside a fountain shaped like two hands holding a flame, was a girl.

Not just a girl.

Her.

The girl from his visions.

Omolola stood in the morning glow as if the sun itself leaned closer to see her. Her hair fell like soft currents of dark silk, brushing her shoulders. Her eyes were deep brown and strangely familiar. A kind of beauty that didn’t demand attention but drew it anyway, steady and sure as gravity.

A warmth flickered in Adekolade’s chest. For a heartbeat, the world around them blurred.

She spoke first.

“You came.”

Her voice was calm but edged with something heavier. Relief? Fear? Recognition?

“Who… are you?” Adekolade asked.

She looked at him for a long moment, like she was searching for a memory hidden behind his eyes.

“My name is Omolola Fagbayi. And you… you’re not supposed to be alive.”

A chill slithered down his spine.

“What does that mean?”

She stepped closer. The air between them tightened, charged like a storm preparing to strike.

“You died,” she whispered. “Both of us did. A year ago. On the night of the Falling Ember War.”

The park seemed to tilt. Adekolade blinked rapidly.

“That’s impossible. I’d remember something like that.”

Omolola shook her head softly.

“No. You wouldn’t. Your memory was sealed. Mine wasn’t.”

She lifted her right hand. A faint amber glow rippled across her palm like a flame trapped under glass.

He staggered back. The same light he’d seen in his dreams.

“This can’t be real.”

“It is,” she said. “And there’s more. You weren’t supposed to return alone. I came back too… to find you.”

For a moment, silence pressed around them, thick enough to feel.

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“You still frown the same way when you’re confused. Even in this life.”

The warmth inside him flared again, bright and startling.

“Why do I feel like I know you?” he asked quietly.

Omolola’s eyes softened. “Because you did. Once. Before everything burned.”

A gust of wind swirled around them, carrying the scent of wet leaves.

“Omolola,” he said, trying her name aloud. It felt right, like a key sliding into the lock of a door he hadn’t realized existed.

“Adekolade,” she replied.

His breath caught. The way she said his name sounded like someone touching a long-closed wound with care.

Before he could speak again, the air behind Omolola cracked with a sharp snap. A shadow detached itself from the trees. A figure hooded in black stepped forward, holding a blade that gleamed silver even in weak sunlight.

Omolola grabbed his arm.

“They found us.”

“Who?” he demanded.

Before she answered, the attacker lunged.

Adekolade reacted on instinct. Something ancient surged through him, burning white-hot. His vision sharpened. Time itself seemed to slow, just for him. The blade sliced toward him, but he sidestepped with a fluidity he had never possessed.

His palm lit up with the same amber fire he’d seen in Omolola’s hand.

“What is happening to me?” he shouted.

Omolola smiled breathlessly.

“Your power is waking.”

The hooded attacker hissed and retreated a step.

Omolola tightened her grip on Adekolade’s wrist.

“We have to move. Now.”

They ran together, feet pounding the wet ground. The assassin’s footsteps stayed close behind, fast and relentless.

As they reached the park’s exit, Omolola glanced at him, her eyes burning with fierce determination.

“This is only the beginning, Adekolade. Our past is coming back for us.”

He swallowed hard.

“Then we face it together.”

Her expression flickered, surprised and warm.

“Just like before.”

They sprinted into the rising sun, two souls reborn, chased by shadows both old and new.

And somewhere inside him, beneath the confusion and fear, one truth settled like a quiet spark.

He didn’t just know her.

He had loved her.

And something told him

he would again.