Chapter Two
POV
Mira
The Dreaming
Sleep should have come easily after such a long day. It didn't.
I lay on my narrow bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily in the darkness. The blades squeaked at each turn, but the sound was oddly comforting. Outside my window, the night in North-Central Nigeria was alive with its usual soundtrack—crickets chirping, a baby crying somewhere nearby, the distant hum of a generator cutting in and out.
But inside me, silence roared louder than any sound.
I couldn't shake the memory of him. 'The man!
The stranger with molten-gold eyes who had appeared on the street that evening and vanished just as quickly, like smoke dissolving into the air.
I pressed my palms to my face and whispered, "Maybe I imagined it."
'Maybe am running a fever!
But my heart argued otherwise. 'I know what I saw'!
'I felt him'!
Even at work earlier—inside the glossy glass building of Dalesman+Mainstream Petro-Chemical Company, where I served as Managing Director—I couldn't focus. Normally, my days were consumed by negotiations, reviewing proposals, and signing contracts worth millions of naira. My office was always alive with the hum of phones ringing, the shuffle of documents, and the sharp scent of coffee lingering in the air.
It wasn't easy being one of the youngest women to rise so quickly in a male-dominated industry, but I had fought for this seat at the boardroom table. Power suits, calm smiles, firm handshakes—that was my armor. Leadership was my battlefield and my colleagues are understanding with me.
And yet, all day, the armor had felt paper-thin. Even during a meeting with the board about a new gas pipeline expansion, I had caught myself staring at the polished mahogany table, my pen frozen above my notes, the stranger's golden eyes flashing in my mind.
"Mira, are you all right?" Mr. Ogun, the Operations Director, had asked after I paused too long.
"Yes. Just tired," I had replied, forcing professionalism into my voice. But the truth? Tired wasn't the word. Haunted was closer.
Even in that high-rise office, with its sweeping view of Abuja's skyline, I had felt that pull—the same strange heaviness in my chest, the prickling at the back of my neck, as though someone was watching me through a pane of glass no one else could see.
'How can this be possible, 'no, am sick I guess but I can't tell anyone this because they may conclude am actually going insane even before leaving the soil of Africa.
Now, in my small room, the day's unease clung to me like a second skin. My career, my victories, even the weight of corporate power felt… smaller. Faded. Like a world I was only half in.
Somewhere between exhaustion and unease, sleep claimed me.
And when it did, it dragged me straight into a world that wasn't mine.
The forest stretched endlessly, moonlight spilling across leaves silver-bright. My bare feet pressed into the damp soil, yet I felt no fear. In fact, I felt… alive.
Every sound—the rustle of leaves, the distant howl of wolves—was sharp, clear, as though my senses had been heightened.
'Then I felt it!
That same pull from the morning. 'Invisible threads tugging me forward.
'And there he was!
"The man".
Only he wasn't dressed for boardrooms or city streets. His presence filled the forest like a storm barely held at bay. His hair was dark, his jaw strong, his body moving with the grace of a predator. He wore no crown, yet something about him screamed royalty, authority, danger.
"You found me," he said, his voice deep, velvet laced with steel'.
"I—I don't even know who you are." My voice shook, but I stood my ground!
He stepped closer, and the forest seemed to bow to him. Shadows bent, the wind stilled, even the wolves went silent. Only his golden eyes remained, glowing brighter the nearer he came.
"You know me," he said, his gaze locking onto mine. "You've always known me. Even before your first breath."
I shook my head, my chest rising and falling too fast. "This is just a dream."
"No." His hand lifted, stopping inches from my cheek, not touching, yet the heat from him seared into my skin.
"This is fate."
A howl tore through the night, loud and haunting. From behind him, massive wolves emerged from the trees, their eyes glowing like embers. They circled, watching me—not with hostility, but with curiosity. As if I were something rare, something precious.
"Why me?" I whispered, barely able to form the words.
His expression softened for a heartbeat, though the power in him never waned. "Because you are mine."
The words slammed into me like a force, setting my blood aflame. My knees weakened, my breath caught, and then!
I jolted awake.
The fan still spun above me. The crickets still sang. My room was unchanged. But my body burned with the memory of his eyes, his voice, his claim.
It was only a dream. Yet it felt more real than the walls around me.
And deep down, I knew the truth: This was only the beginning.
A shadow shifted at my window. "A voice" 'his voice; 'whispered from the darkness:
"You can run, Mira. But you can't run from what you are."
'His voice is vivid in my memory; 'here, I question my sanity; I am in Nigeria for God sake, Miracle snap out of your mind!
The word "you can run' but you can't run from what you are" keep repeating itself in my subconscious mind, "what are you".