Zamfara State — Yantoto Hills
The dark cavern sounded like something dying slowly.
It should have been afternoon.
The kind of heat that sticks to your skin and refuses to leave.
But inside the cavern, the lamp poles burned so bright they erased time completely.
Engines roared.
Chains screamed.
A Metal frame dragged against stone like it was being forced to remember something it had spent centuries trying to forget.
Dust fell in thin sheets.
Dry.
Endless.
And beneath it—
A shape emerged, rectangular.
Long.
Clean.
Deliberate.
Not natural.
Lanre saw it…
…and smiled.
That should have been enough warning for everyone involved.
"GET THE DYNAMITE!"
Workers paused.
Tired.
Underpaid.
Smart enough to recognize a terrible idea when it started shouting orders.
"Blow it all up!"
Lanre stepped forward, eyes locked on the shape.
I'm an archaeologist.
Which, in practice, meant:
I destroy things carefully.
A hand slammed into his back.
Hard enough to rattle his ribs.
"I need fi—ck!"
Air left his lungs in a rush.
An arm hooked around his neck.
It was Familiar, annoying, and unavoidable.
"Chukwu," Lanre choked.
The man grinned as the world had never disappointed him.
Which meant he hadn't been paying attention.
"Rest," Chukwu said.
Lanre tugged at the arm around his neck.
"I'm close."
His voice came out tighter this time.
Not excitement.
Something sharper.
Because he was close.
That thing in the rock—
It didn't feel buried.
It felt…
placed.
Carefully.
Intentionally.
Like someone had hidden a problem and expected it to stay hidden.
Lanre's eyes drifted.
Stopped.
Around Chukwu's neck—
A whistle.
Wooden.
Dark.
Worn smooth by time.
Wrong.
Lanre stared at it longer than necessary.
"Six months," he said quietly.
Chukwu raised a brow.
"Six months of my work," Lanre continued,
"And it's hanging on your chest."
Chukwu laughed.
Loud enough to shake dust loose from the ceiling.
"But you've been paid."
Lanre didn't answer immediately.
His gaze moved.
Whistle.
Coffin.
Whistle.
Coffin.
Back and forth.
His mind was trying to line up two things that refused to sit still.
I was excited.
That was the problem.
Excitement, for Lanre, had a pattern.
It always came first.
Understanding came later.
Usually too late to be useful.
The explosion hit.
A deep, violent thump rolled through the cavern.
Dust swallowed everything.
Workers stumbled.
Someone ran past them in full panic.
"YOU IDIOT!" Chukwu barked.
Lanre lifted a hand.
Calm and certain, reassuring everyone.
"It's asleep."
He didn't know how he knew that.
That was becoming a habit.
Dust was everywhere they couldn't see properly.
Another tremor followed.
Stronger and deeper.
Something collapsed further inside the tunnel.
Lanre tried to see through the dust. At least hear his surroundings.
This world is loud. Too loud.
Everyone talking, everyone shouting and Nobody listening.
Not to the right things.
"Apótí dúdú ré!"
A worker pointed toward the breach.
"The black casket!"
The dust had begun to fade, waiting for it was an option.
Lanre moved first.
Of course he did.
The others followed at a safer distance.
The distance people use when they want to survive someone else's mistake.
Dust cleared.
And there it was.
A black coffin embedded deep in the rock.
Gold traced along its edges.
Not decorative.
Precise.
Carved scales shimmered faintly beneath the dust.
And above it—
A halo, dim, crooked barely trying, and not divine.
Just…
There.
Lanre stepped closer.
His breathing slowed.
Not from calm, from focus.
The kind that shuts everything else out.
"I found it," he whispered.
Then paused.
Something in him resisted that sentence.
Rejected it.
Slowly, he corrected himself.
"I found the fix."
The word settled into the cavern as it belonged there.
Behind him, Chukwu's voice cut in.
Lower now.
Serious.
"Lanre… have you told your family?"
"No."
Lanre didn't look back.
"They worry too much."
"And the client?"
"Knows."
A pause.
"Not his problem."
Chukwu exhaled slowly.
"Smart."
Lanre stepped closer.
One more step.
Then another.
The workers stopped following.
Good.
Less noise.
Less interference.
His hand lifted.
Hovered.
The air near the coffin felt… different.
cold, warm—
Aware.
Lanre frowned slightly.
Something about this silence—
It wasn't empty.
It wasn't peaceful.
It was structured.
Like something had been waiting.
For a very long time.
For this exact moment.
Lanre's fingers twitched.
His mind started moving faster.
Pieces clicking into place that he didn't remember learning.
Not buried.
No. He wasn't remembering things.
He was listening, forcefully.
The voices in his head had opinions.
None of them useful.
"They've never been this loud before" he thought.
The solution was right before him. Incomplete, dangerous, addictive.
His fingers moved closer.
Closer.
Just before contact—
Lanre understood something.
Not fully.
Not clearly.
But enough.
Enough to matter.
Enough to be irreversible.
This wasn't a discovery.
It was a release.
And somewhere—
Inside that coffin—
Something had already noticed him.
Not the workers, not the noise.
Him.
Specifically.
Lanre's lips parted slightly.
A final thought slipped through giving him a bit of relief.
Open it.
He didn't move.
Didn't touch it.
Not yet.
But the thought stayed.
Patient and persistent but it wasn't his.
Lanre stepped back.
Once.
Then again.
He turned and walked away.
Not fast. Not slow.
Just enough to prove he still could.