The gate to Philip's mansion in Festac creaked open as Frank stepped inside, his coat slung casually over his shoulder. The sun was dipping low in the Lagos sky, casting long amber shadows over the expansive compound. Frank walked past the carefully maintained flower beds and hedges, their leaves still glistening from the earlier rain, and paused when he heard laughter drifting from inside.
Philip's laughter.
A rare sound.
The front door was slightly ajar. Inside, the warm scent of jollof rice and grilled fish filled the air. Philip was lounging on a sleek armchair, one leg crossed over the other, sipping from a glass of iced zobo. Across from him, sprawled on the floor with a game controller in hand, was Nathaniel, eyes locked on the screen.
Amaka sat elegantly on the couch, eyes narrowed in concentration, her fingers dancing over another controller. The television flickered with chaotic visuals two fighters clashing in a blur of color and noise.
"Told you she'd beat you," Nathaniel teased.
Frank laughed as he stepped in. "She hacks. Look at that combo! That is not legal."
Amaka smirked. "Maybe if you spent less time complaining and more time dodging, you'd survive."
Philip looked up. A faint smile curved his lips. "Look who decided to show up. Come in, Frank. I was starting to think you were avoiding me."
Frank grinned and stepped fully into the room. "Avoiding you? Never. Just thought you might be busy destroying secret organizations you know,
Philip chuckled, setting his drink down. "Not today."
Frank handed him a cold malt from his satchel. "Peace offering."
"Accepted."
They settled in together, Frank claiming a chair, Philip leaning back again. For once, the air wasn't heavy with mana or politics.
It was just... life.
Frank eventually turned, curiosity lighting his face. "So, how exactly did you get this strong? You were good before, but now you're something else."
Philip raised an eyebrow. "Simple. I endured fifteen hundred years of solitude and divine trials."
Frank blinked. Then laughed. "Right. And I dated a banshee."
Philip said nothing. Just sipped his drink.
The color drained from Frank's face. "Wait. You're serious?"
Philip tilted his head slightly. "Fifteen hundred and twenty-three years, give or take a few days. Time moves differently where I was."
Frank whistled low. "And I thought waking up at 5 a.m. for mana meditation was bad. Yeah, no thanks. I like normal growth."
Philip turned his gaze to Frank again, more serious now. "And the parasite? Still with you?"
Frank nodded slowly. "Yeah. We've come to an understanding. It's... not evil. Just old. Strange. It teaches more than it harms now."
Philip leaned forward slightly, the air around him sharpening. "I can remove it for you. Tonight, if you want."
At those words, Frank felt a shift in his chest. Deep within, the parasite shivered.
Frank exhaled. "Thanks. But no. I want to see where this leads. It's part of me now."
Philip studied him, then nodded. "Your path, your choice."
Frank grinned,
Frank asked "You and Athena? Back together yet?"
Frank tilted his head, amused. "Why would you assume that?"
Philip smirked. "We work together. I don't trust her. But she hasn't betrayed me yet."
Amaka muttered, "Yet being the key word."
Philip nodded. "Fair enough."
Philip eyed him. "And you? You and her family?"
Frank shifted slightly. "Not together with her. But I train with her people. They're intense... but they know their stuff.
Laughter echoed off the high ceilings.
No Cult. No Politics . No wars.
Just friends.
They sat in silence for a while, watching Amaka and Nathaniel argue over who'd win in a fight: a dragon with psychic powers or a swordsman who could bend time.
Then Frank asked, "How are you really, man? After everything?"
Philip didn't answer right away. He looked out the window.
"I'm tired. The more power I touch, the more I see how fragile everything is. One wrong ripple... and everything breaks."
Frank nodded slowly. "Then maybe that's why you needed this."
Philip turned.
Frank held up a bottle. "To friends, food, and a few stolen hours of peace."
Philip clinked his bottle against Frank's. "To the only things that still matter."
As the night deepened, they told stories.
Of lost temples and awakened beasts.
As the night stretched on, Philip stood, rolling his shoulders.
Frank followed him to the doorway. The compound was quiet. Lights shimmered along the garden paths.
"You ready?" Frank asked.
Philip didn't look back. "For the Conclave? Yes. But readiness isn't the same as acceptance."
Frank nodded. "Everyone's watching, you know. Holding their breath. Waiting for you to save us
Philip turned slightly, his eyes distant. "Let them wait. I've made my choice."
Frank grinned. "Still counting the days."
Philip smiled faintly. "Don't count too hard. You might miss the moment."