Chapter 3 Missing

The hostel was quiet, too quiet. Not the peaceful kind the watchful kind. Like something was waiting.

Zainab locked the door behind her. "Okay. Nobody else can hear us now.

Amara sat across from her, arms crossed, face unreadable.

Victor leaned against the wall, arms folded. "Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?"

Chuka had his camera on his lap, for once not recording. Tola was curled up on the couch, Bible open but unread.

Zainab looked directly at Amara. "You're not the only one who feels it. Or hears it. Or knows."

Amara's expression didn't change. "Knows what?"

Zainab leaned forward. "That this place is cursed. That every decade, something reawakens in Block D. That students vanish, and the school always covers it up."The first scream came from Room 3.

By the time the hostel matron arrived wrapped in a mismatched wrapper and head tie half the girls from Block D were already outside, wide-eyed and whispering.

Tola stood barefoot in the corridor, trembling.

"She's gone," she whispered.

"Gone?" the matron barked. "Gone where?"

Tola just pointed.

Room 3. The door wide open. The bed untouched... but something was off.

A black feather, long and sharp, lay in the center of the mattress.

Zainab picked it up without hesitation. "This isn't a bird feather," she muttered. "This is a marker."

"A marker for what?" Chuka asked. He had come running with his phone again, but this time he didn't dare hit record.

Amara stepped closer. Her eyes narrowed at the feather.

She'd seen one like it before.

In her grandmother's old spellbook.

The kind used to mark a chosen offering.

Later That Day Faculty of Arts Library

Amara sat with the spellbook in her lap - hidden inside a textbook titled Introduction to Nigerian Political Thought. Around her, students chatted and typed away, unaware of the storm brewing within their hostel.

Zainab dropped into the seat across from her.

"You found something, didn't you?" she asked.

Amara nodded slowly and flipped to a page near the center.

There it was. The feather. The Haaru feather, a cursed object used by witches from the old Delta covens to tag souls for extraction.

"The girl in Room 3 was marked," Amara said. "But not by one of us."

"You're saying..." Zainab leaned in. "There's another witch. A dark one."

"A very old one," Amara said. "And she's here."

Tensions Rising – Block D Common Room

Victor was pacing. "I'm not sleeping here tonight. I don't care. I'll sleep on the football pitch if I have to."

Chuka sat with his hands clenched. "Bro, someone is missing. Vanished. No screams. No blood. Just... gone."

Tola stood near the doorway, holding her Bible like a shield. She hadn't looked at Zainab since the previous night.

"You said your grandmother warned you," Victor turned to Amara. "Did she know about this?"

Amara hesitated. "She told me the school had history. That people like us were drawn to it. But she never said why."

Zainab stepped in. "Because every ten years, something rises beneath Eluwon. And it always starts with a sacrifice."

Everyone went still.

Chuka finally said it: "So what, we're next?"

Amara's fingers tingled again. She looked down and saw it - her palm glowing faintly beneath the skin, like embers buried under glass.

She quickly clenched her fist.

"I think I'm changing," she whispered.

Zainab stayed awake. Her eyes on the door.

She'd drawn wards on the windows. Salt beneath the beds. Protection charms in each corner.

But still... the whispers came.

Only this time, they spoke a name.

"Amara."

Zainab turned sharply.

Amara was sitting up in bed, eyes wide open... but not awake.

Her mouth moved, chanting words in an ancient tongue.

Zainab stood. "Amara?"

Suddenly, Amara gasped - and her hand burst into flame.

Bright. Silent. Controlled.

Then it vanished.

Amara looked down at her palm.

"I didn't mean to do that," she said.

Zainab stared at her.

"You don't need to mean it," she replied. "It's already in you."The first scream came from Room 3.

By the time the hostel matron arrived - wrapped in a mismatched wrapper and head tie - half the girls from Block D were already outside, wide-eyed and whispering.

Tola stood barefoot in the corridor, trembling.

"She's gone," she whispered.

"Gone?" the matron barked. "Gone where?"

Tola just pointed.

Room 3. The door wide open. The bed untouched... but something was off.

A black feather, long and sharp, lay in the center of the mattress.

Zainab picked it up without hesitation. "This isn't a bird feather," she muttered. "This is a marker."

"A marker for what?" Chuka asked. He had come running with his phone again, but this time he didn't dare hit record.

Amara stepped closer. Her eyes narrowed at the feather.

She'd seen one like it before.

In her grandmother's old spellbook.

The kind used to mark a chosen offering.

Amara sat with the spellbook in her lap - hidden inside a textbook titled Introduction to Nigerian Political Thought. Around her, students chatted and typed away, unaware of the storm brewing within their hostel.

Zainab dropped into the seat across from her.

"You found something, didn't you?" she asked.

Amara nodded slowly and flipped to a page near the center.

There it was. The feather. The Haaru feather, a cursed object used by witches from the old Delta covens to tag souls for extraction.

"The girl in Room 3 was marked," Amara said. "But not by one of us."

"You're saying..." Zainab leaned in. "There's another witch. A dark one."

"A very old one," Amara said. "And she's here