The glittering skyline of Victoria Island loomed around them as Kel and Presence made their way through the affluent streets. Towering skyscrapers and exclusive residences cast long shadows in the night, a stark contrast to the chaos they had just escaped. The air was thick with tension, both from the lingering adrenaline of their close call and the threatening weather overhead. Dark clouds roiled above, promising rain, while a fitful wind tugged at Presence's clothes.

Kel, ever attuned to Presence's moods, attempted to ease the palpable tension. His ghostly form gestured towards the turbulent sky. "Typical July weather in Lagos," he remarked, his voice carrying a forced lightness. "You never know if you'll need sunglasses or an umbrella."

Presence nodded absently, her mind still reeling from the night's events. Despite her best efforts to appear composed, the slight tremor in her hands and the tightness around her eyes betrayed her inner turmoil. She suddenly turned to Kel, her voice laced with concern.

"Do you think the bartender will be alright?" she asked, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Did we do the right thing, getting her a cab and letting her go off alone?"

Kel's face softened with understanding. "Yes," he assured her gently. "We did the right thing. Remember, she's heading to her parents' place in Badagry, not her own home. It's safer that way, and we couldn't have accompanied her that far tonight."

Presence seemed to relax slightly at his words, but the worry didn't fully leave her eyes. "I just hope she'll be okay," she murmured.

As they continued walking, the opulent surroundings of Victoria Island seemed to mock the gravity of their situation. The glossy facades of high-end boutiques and the soft glow of expensive restaurants created an surreal backdrop to their somber mood.

Kel watched Presence closely, noting the way she flinched at sudden noises and how her eyes darted warily at passing cars. The events at the bar had clearly shaken her more than she was letting on. He wished he could offer more comfort, but his ghostly state limited his ability to provide physical reassurance.

"Presence," he said softly, causing her to look at him. "I know tonight was... intense. But you handled yourself incredibly well. You're safe now."

She managed a weak smile, grateful for his words even as the memory of Anthony's cold gaze flashed through her mind. The mystery of Afefe and the violent scene they had witnessed hung between them, unspoken but impossible to ignore.

As they walked, the first fat droplets of rain began to fall, quickly intensifying into a steady downpour. Presence hunched in her hoodie, while Kel's ghostly form remained untouched by the weather. The rain seemed to wash away some of the tension, replacing it with a quiet determination.

They both knew that this was just the beginning. The events of the night had opened a door to a dangerous world they barely understood, and there would be no going back. As they sought shelter from the rain, Presence and Kel shared a look of silent understanding. Whatever came next, they would face it together.

As they walked through the rain-slicked streets of Victoria Island, Kel turned to Presence with a thoughtful expression. "Do you live on campus or off?"

Presence pushed a wet strand of hair from her face. "On campus," she replied, her voice barely audible over the patter of rain.

"Where exactly?" Kel inquired, his tone casual but tinged with concern.

After Presence told him her specific location, Kel nodded. "I'll walk you there once the rain lets up," he offered.

Presence shook her head, water droplets flying from her hair. "No, that's not necessary. I'll be fine."

"I insist," Kel countered, a hint of stubbornness in his voice. "I'll be your ghostly guardian," he said with a smirk.

Presence snorted. "My ghostly stalker, more like."

"I prefer 'phantom protector,' thank you very much."

"How about 'phantom annoyance'?" Presence offered, her eyes twinkling.

Kel clutched his non-existent pearls. "You wound me, Miss Okafor! I'm simply a knight in shimmering armor."

"More like a pest in Ben 10 pajamas," Presence quipped, trying to hide her smile.

"Hey!! Ben 10 is awesome!! Besides, I'll have you know these are like Versace in the afterlife," Kel sniffed, twirling dramatically.

Presence rolled her eyes. "Oh, excuse me. I didn't realize I was in the presence of a ghostly fashionista."

"That's Sir Ghostly Fashionista to you," Kel corrected, bowing with a flourish.

"Tell me, Sir Floats-a-lot, do they give out medals for being persistently pesky in the great beyond?"

Kel grinned. "As a matter of fact, I'm up for my tenth 'Most Annoyingly Chivalrous Spirit' award."

"Congratulations," Presence deadpanned. "I'd slow clap, but I'm afraid my hands might pass right through you."

"Your sarcasm only makes me stronger," Kel declared. "It's like kolos to my On-kolos."

Presence couldn't help but laugh. "Fine, you phantom terror. You can walk me home. But not beyond the lodge gate, got it?"

"Deal," Kel agreed.

"Deal."

Almost immediately after agreeing, Presence's demeanor shifted. She looked at Kel, her eyes suddenly serious. "Actually, would you accompany me somewhere first?"

"Anywhere," Kel responded without hesitation, his voice carrying an unexpected intensity.

The weight of his words hung between them for a moment, Presence's gaze locked with his. Realizing the gravity of what he'd said, Kel quickly added, "I mean, unless it's a Davido concert. I draw the line at maniacal "shekpe" shouts."

Presence laughed again, the tension broken. "Come on," she said, "Let's go!"

They ran, and in that moment, they were infinite. Presence's feet pounded the wet pavement, each step a defiant splash against the city's attempt to slow her down. Kel ran beside her, his ghostly form a stark contrast to her very human struggle against gravity and fatigue.

The rain transformed the city into a kaleidoscope of neon and shadow. Street lights stretched into watery pillars of light, while skyscrapers loomed like hazy giants in the mist. It was as if they were running through a painting of the city rather than the city itself - everything familiar yet slightly out of focus, dreamlike in its fluidity.

Presence's lungs burned, her muscles screamed, but still she ran. Because running meant living, meant feeling, meant existing in a way that transcended the mundane. And Kel, in his ghostly way, understood. He matched her pace not out of necessity, but out of a shared defiance against the night, against fate, against the very notion that their stories were already written.

In that eternal moment between heartbeats, between raindrops, between breaths, they were more than a girl and a ghost. They were possibility incarnate, two souls hurtling through a world that couldn't quite contain them.

And the city, in all its rain-soaked glory, bore witness to their flight.

Their journey ended at the gates of a cemetery not far from where they had been. Presence slowed to a walk, her sneakers squelching on the wet grass as she navigated between the tombstones. Kel followed, curiosity and concern mingling in his features.

Finally, Presence came to a stop in front of one particular gravestone. A small smile played on her lips as she looked down at the marker. "Hello, Dad," she said softly.

•

From his vantage point, Kel watched Presence commune with the memory of her father, feeling like an intruder on a moment too sacred for ghostly eyes. He couldn't hear her words, but he didn't need to. The language of loss and love was written in every line of her body, in the gentle way her fingers traced the letters etched in stone.

Presence stood there, a living, breathing punctuation mark at the end of a sentence cut too short. Her posture was relaxed, almost casual, as if death were just a thin veil between them rather than an impassable chasm. Her smile, small and bittersweet, spoke of memories that ached and comforted in equal measure.

"How are you doing?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper on the wind. It was such a mundane question, the kind you'd ask over coffee or a phone call. But here, in this place where the living and dead coexisted in uneasy proximity, it took on a weight that Kel could feel even from a distance.

"Are they treating you well in the afterlife?"

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, Kel felt a strange kinship with the man beneath the ground. Both of them separated from Presence by death, yet still so present in her world. He wondered, not for the first time, about the mechanics of memory and love - how people could be so tangibly absent yet so overwhelmingly there.

Meanwhile, Presence's words floated on the cemetery air, each question a tether to a past that stubbornly refused to fade. "Do they know how to make your goat meat pepper soup with sweet yam just the way you like it?" she asked, and for a moment, the scent of spices and childhood memories seemed to perfume the air around her.

She paused, head tilted slightly, as if straining to hear a response whispered from beyond. The silence stretched, filled only by the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of a city that kept spinning, oblivious to the weight of this moment.

"And how about grandma and grandpa? Are they doing okay too?"

Her words painted a picture of a family reunion on the other side, a gathering of souls that both comforted and ached. It was the kind of question that highlighted the vast distance between the living and the dead, a chasm too wide for even love to fully bridge.

Suddenly, the facade cracked. Presence's smile, which had been a brave shield against grief, faltered and fell. A single tear charted a course down her cheek, a silent explorer mapping the terrain of loss.

"I'm sorry I didn't come earlier, Dad," she whispered, her voice thick with the weight of guilt and remembrance. "I've been so distracted... I almost forgot your anniversary. It won't happen again, I promise."

She wiped at her eyes, a futile gesture against the tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm her. "And I'm sorry I didn't bring a gift this time. I'll make it up to you, I swear."

In that moment, Presence wasn't a young woman standing in a cemetery. She was a little girl again, desperate to make her father proud, to bridge the impossible gap that death had carved between them. Her apologies were pebbles tossed into an infinite sea, unable to reach the other shore but needing to be thrown all the same.

Finally, as if the weight of unsaid words and unfelt embraces had become too much to bear, Presence's composure shattered completely. More tears flowed, each one a testament to love that refused to diminish, even in the face of absence.

"I miss you," she said, her voice barely a whisper on the wind. But in those three simple words lay universes of emotion - love and loss, joy and sorrow, all the complex threads that tied her heart to a memory that refused to fade.

Just then, as if in response to her words, a single eagle's feather drifted down from the sky, landing gently on the tombstone. Presence's eyes widened in surprise, then she burst into laughter, tears still glistening on her cheeks.

"Show off," she said affectionately, shaking her head at the tombstone.

Kel witnessed a small miracle. Laughter - bright and unexpected - burst from Presence, dancing over the somber gravestones. It wasn't the polite chuckle of cemetery etiquette, but real, unrestrained joy that seemed to defy their harrowing night and the very setting itself.

Kel marveled at her resilience. After chaos and danger, surrounded by reminders of loss, here was Presence, laughing. It was a rebellion against grief, a testament to the stubborn persistence of life and joy.

In that moment, her laughter bridged the gap between the living and the dead more profoundly than any reunion. It echoed the complexity of human emotion - how sorrow and happiness could coexist, how memories could bring both tears and smiles.

As Presence's laughter faded to a soft smile, Kel realized he was witnessing not just remembrance, but the beautiful, messy act of living itself.

The cemetery stood hushed, draped in gentle drizzle. Presence's soft words and laughter were the only sounds breaking the reverent silence. In this peaceful bubble, the night's dangers felt like a distant dream.

Kel knew the world beyond still teemed with unanswered questions and looming challenges. They'd have to face that labyrinth again, all too soon. But for now, he was content to be a ghost guard guarding something far more precious than any treasure: a moment of connection that defied even death.

As Presence communed with her father's memory, Kel understood that some battles could wait. This fragile, beautiful instant was a victory in itself - a reminder that even while running and fighting, there was still room for remembering and loving.

In this sliver of peace carved from chaos, Kel kept his vigil. Whatever came next, they would face it. But for now, this moment was enough.

It was everything.

___________________________________
This chapter was planned for tomorrow, but my busy schedule got in the way. Enjoy it early and likely longer than usual! Drop a vote, leave a comment, and perhaps even share with a friend. Appreciate it!🤍