At dawn the Skyborn Convocation Hall glowed like a furnace of glass. Ethereal banners—fragments of fallen halos—floated above the oval table where twelve councillors gathered. Sentinel-cherubs lined the walls, wings folded like silver shields.
Eliadan Muthui opened the session."Kayen Telani remains human. If we guide him, Effilim becomes a sword in our hand."
Arch-Councillor Tavion slammed his stave.
"Or the sword cuts the hand clean off. History records twelve extinction-level fiends; Effilim ranked first."
Screens flared, replaying grainy relic-footage: a black-and-gold vortex ripping fortress walls, angels and demons alike turned to ash. Gasps fluttered among the juniors perched on the upper gallery.
Eliadan kept his voice level. "That vision is eight hundred years old. The boy does not share the creature's mind."
Tavion barked a laugh. "Yet. Seeds grow." He leaned forward, marble knuckles whitening. "We strike while the husk is soft."
Silence stretched until Councillor Maresa Nyaga rose, robes whispering like dry leaves.
"Passion clouds both arguments. Under charter, an issue this grave defers to the Celestial Tribunal. Two days from now you will present evidence—mercy or eradication. The chorus will cast judgment."
A low chime marked the motion's sealing. Sigils locked in the air like ice.
High above Nairobi Prime, rain clouds bruised the morning sky. Kayen leaned against a transparent rail, city lights glittering below like spilled jewels. Each breath fogged the cool air; each exhale carried another shard of doubt.
Tap-tap. "Master Telani?" A wiry attendant in soft boots—Tobby—balanced a stack of folded clothing: carbon-fiber jacket trimmed in indigo, charcoal glide-trousers, flex-lace shoes.
"Lady Selasi was clear: blend, don't brag," Tobby said with a grin. "Wash, dress, report to Councillor Muthui's study."
Kayen showered beneath a glyph-lit cascade. Bruises from Kakamega were gone, skin faintly luminescent where healing runes had melted. In the mirror a stranger stared back—same angular jaw, same wary eyes, but a ghost-halo of white light circled each iris.
He slipped into the new outfit. Fabric clung like it had known his body for years.
Eliadan's home office smelled of sandalwood and datapaper. Holomaps projected Rift-Valley ley lines; glowing threads showed Abyss incursions blooming like tumors. Maresa sat on a lev-sofa, coffee steaming between her palms.
Kayen entered; Eliadan's expression softened.
"Took you long enough. New clothes scratching?"
Kayen shrugged. "Feels like wearing someone else's future."
Eliadan gestured. "This is Councillor Nyaga."
Maresa's gaze dissected him in two heartbeats. "Your life hangs on a sentence, Kayen. Join the order as a probationary field agent. Training, monitoring, mission service. Show us you choose humanity over Hell, and the Tribunal will rule for clemency."
Her voice cooled. "But if you break faith—your power dies with you. And innocents fall." A holo-frame of his motherand sisters glimmered above her wrist for half a second. Message received.
Kayen swallowed. "I'm in."
Eliadan exhaled, relief misting the air. He spent an hour recounting Effilim's birth—angel Raqiel, demoness Zhur—souls fused by forbidden love, their offspring hunted by both realms. Kayen fired questions: Why me? Can Effilim wake without my consent? Answers came heavy but honest.
Dusk bled violet when Selasi appeared outside the study flanked by two lance-guards. Her cool gaze traveled over Kayen's outfit.
"Not bad. Try to keep it un-shredded until sunset."
They rode a low-noise sky-sled south-west. The city unfurled beneath: chrome spires, mag-rails, old brick markets. Kayen pressed a hand to the canopy glass when Zone 7's rust-coloured rooftops emerged. Home.
Selasi briefed him: "Quick stop. School withdrawal, essentials. No social media. Thirty-minute window." The guard beside her locked coordinates into his vambrace.
While the sled descended toward the district, Zemo Roka hammered on a fusion coupler inside his tin-roof workshop. Holobeats thumped in his headphones, drowning the world. A half-rebuilt hover-bike hovered a finger breadth off its rack, new ion core pulsing.
Zemo wiped sweat, pleased. "Kayen, you're gonna freak."
Unseen behind him, shadows thickened. A tall outline resolved—edges fluid, a cloak sewn from midnight. With a hush, it stepped beyond the lamplight.
Zemo's gut twitched; he pulled an earcup aside, listening. Nothing… until cold breath grazed his neck. He spun, wrench raised.
A hand of black smoke clamped over his mouth. Glyphs like ember-stars flickered inside the darkness. Zemo's shout died against the void. He was yanked backward, feet skidding, tools clattering.
Outside, neon flickered. The hover-bike kept humming. pilotless, while the workshop door swung half-closed, half-open—undecided.
Twenty minutes later Kayen stepped onto the cracked pavement outside his family's compound. Selasi and the guards held back by the gate to grant privacy.
Inside, his mother's hug nearly broke his ribs. Elvira burst into scolding tears; Nia punched his shoulder, then hugged him too. Little Leila simply clung to his leg.
He told them he'd earned a scholarship with a prestigious Nairobi firm—half-truth wrapped in safety. They believed enough to smile. Yet when he met his mother's eyes she seemed to know there was more, and simply said, "Return whole, son."
As they embraced, Selasi's comm bead chirped—priority alert. A name scrolled: Roka Robotics. Location ping lost; heatburst detected. She frowned, tapped her vambrace.
Kayen noticed. "Problem?"
"Maybe," she murmured. "Time's up."
He hugged his family once more, then slid his father's old leather wristband over the sleeve of his sleek new jacket—a piece of Zone 7 anchoring him to the storm ahead.
The sky-sled lifted into the night, its running lights merging with stars. Back in the junkyard a lone hover-bike idled, casting a blue halo over an empty floor.
Lines were being drawn, and shadows had taken their first prisoner.