Chapter 48 – The Messenger of Crossroads
The sun was dipping low over Cap-Haïtien, brushing the rooftops in gold and orange, the kind of sunset that made the whole city look calmer than it actually was. Peterson stood in front of LAKAY RESTAURANT with his heart pounding so hard it felt like someone knocking from inside his chest trying to escape.
The date with Naëlle had gone better than he expected.
Actually—no, he couldn't lie to himself—
it went WAY better than he expected.
She laughed at his jokes, even the corny ones.
She kept brushing her hair behind her ear every time she looked at him.
And when he was walking her home afterward, she kept slowing her steps like she didn't want the moment to end.
Peterson was floating.
Not walking, floating.
But now… now it was time for whatever she wanted to tell him. And something in her eyes earlier made him nervous.
They stopped at the corner near the small street that led to her house. Night birds called from the palm trees. A car rattled by, its headlights cutting across the pavement. Naëlle's fingers twisted around each other anxiously.
"Peterson," she said softly, "I have something to tell you."
His stomach dropped.
This was the line.
THE line.
The one every guy fears and wants at the same time.
Was she going to confess she liked him too?
Was she going to say she had a boyfriend?
Was she going to say… she was moving?
His brain raced through scenarios. But he never imagined the truth would be something far heavier—and much more dangerous—than romance.
Naëlle took a deep breath. Her voice lowered to almost a whisper.
"Peterson… I'm a disciple of Papa Legba."
Peterson blinked.
"Papa who?"
She nodded seriously. "Papa Legba. The Loa of Crossroads."
His mouth opened slightly. "Wait—like the same Loa that stands at the gateway between worlds? THAT Papa Legba?"
"Yes," she said, her voice gentle but steady.
The air around Peterson suddenly felt heavier.
Like the world dropped twenty pounds on his shoulders.
She stepped closer and tugged lightly on his sleeve. "Please don't freak out. I've been wanting to tell you for a long time. It's… part of why I'm able to sense certain things."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, but… why are you telling me this now?"
"Because." She swallowed hard. "Papa Legba sent me to warn you."
Peterson's eyes widened. "Warn me? About what?"
Naëlle inhaled deeply and looked him straight in the eyes.
"About the medallion."
Everything inside Peterson froze.
He didn't breathe. Didn't blink.
She continued, her voice trembling even though she tried to hide it. "Papa Legba and Mèt Agwe-Djall… they were the ones who crafted that medallion a long time ago. It wasn't just made to seal things randomly. It was made specifically to seal—"
She hesitated.
"—souls."
Peterson's skin crawled.
Naëlle looked pained, as if the truth itself hurt her. "Peterson… Papa Legba said the Zobop clan is making moves. They will send someone—powerful people—to take it from you. If they get that medallion, he said the world will fall into chaos. Not maybe. Not eventually. Immediately."
Peterson let out a shaky breath.
"Wait… you're telling me they made this thing—"
He placed his palm on his chest and focused.
The medallion shimmered into existence, floating inches above his skin, glowing faintly like a pulse.
Naëlle gasped. "Peterson—put it away!"
"What? Why?"
"Because don't flash it around like it's candy! If someone dangerous is watching—"
"It's fine," he said, though internally he was freaking out. "Nobody even knows we're out here."
Naëlle pinched the bridge of her nose, whispering, "This boy is going to give me a heart attack…"
Peterson snorted. "Look, you asked about the medallion, so… yeah, this is it."
He turned it over in his hand.
The metallic skull eyes gleamed with an eerie green light.
Something felt alive inside it.
Naëlle opened her mouth to speak again—
But then—
A slow clap echoed along the rooftops.
Clap…
Clap…
Clap…
Peterson froze.
Naëlle stiffened instantly—then grabbed his wrist.
"Peterson…" she whispered urgently. "Put. It. Away. NOW."
Peterson's instincts roared in alarm.
He shoved the medallion back into his chest—its glow dimming instantly.
But it was already too late.
A voice drifted from above.
"Well, well… look what fell right into our laps."
The tone was mocking.
Confident.
Too confident.
Peterson slowly turned his head upward.
Two silhouettes stood on the rooftop under the rising moon.
The first one leaned casually on the railing, boots dangling over the edge like he owned the building. His black coat fluttered in the wind, revealing pale green tattoos carved into his arms like twisted vines. Thin, sharp eyes glowed with a faint crimson light.
Afre.
The Zobop general with the calculating mind and rebellion behind his smile.
Beside him stood a tall woman wrapped in feathers and ink. Her black-purple robes swayed like smoke. Every time she breathed, ink-like shadows rippled from her feet. Her eyes were dark—too dark—until they flashed violet.
Ravena.
The woman who commanded shadows like a choir.
They looked down at Peterson and Naëlle with expressions that made the night feel colder.
Afre grinned wide.
"So THAT'S where you were hiding," he said. "Thank you, kid. When you pulled out that medallion… whew." He tapped his temple. "Made it real easy for us."
Ravena stepped forward, her voice low and melodious.
"We came a long way looking for you, Peterson Joseph…"
Her eyes narrowed.
"…and now that we found you—"
Both generals released their aura at the same time.
A frightening tidal wave of red and purple energy exploded from the rooftop, making the street tremble beneath Peterson's feet.
"…we'll be taking our little gift now."
Peterson's blood ran cold.
Naëlle grabbed his arm, whispering:
"This is bad… this is bad… these two aren't just Zobop soldiers—they're high-ranking generals."
Afre cracked his knuckles.
Ravena spread her fingers, shadows spiraling around them.
Then—
They both jumped.
A blur of red.
A blur of violet.
A shockwave exploding downward.
The pavement cracked when they landed.
Dust shot up.
Windows rattled.
Naëlle stumbled back.
Peterson stepped in front of her, fists clenched, heart pounding so hard he felt it in his teeth.
Afre smiled.
"Peterson Joseph… please don't make this difficult."