Rain pounded the streets of Benin City like the sky itself was trying to wash the world clean. Puddles reflected flickering streetlights, and the alleys smelled of wet asphalt, rot, and something else—something older, colder.
Zara Voss ran. Barefoot, heart hammering, lungs burning. Every step carried the sting of rainwater and the sharp edge of fear. She didn't know what she was running from, only that the shadows behind her were alive in a way the city had never been.
Her chest heaved. "Just keep moving," she muttered through clenched teeth. "Keep… moving…"
A sudden scraping sound made her freeze. Not footsteps. Something darker, slithering, crawling.
Skrrr…
Zara's eyes darted to the walls. The shadows stretched unnaturally, twisting along bricks and puddles, moving toward her like they had a mind of their own.
"No… no…" she whispered, backing into a dead-end alley. Her fingers brushed the cold, wet wall for balance.
Then a voice whispered in her mind. Clear, slow, and chilling:
"Heir…"
Her pulse spiked. "Who's there?!" she demanded. No answer came—only the oppressive, living darkness surrounding her.
Panic took hold. She spun on her heel, attempting to flee, but her foot caught on a broken crate. She fell hard, scraping her palms and knees against the slick concrete. Pain stabbed through her like electricity.
And that's when it happened.
Her hand landed on the wet ground—and the shadows responded.
A tendril of darkness shot from her palm, writhing and pulsing with a life of its own. It surged outward, striking the crawling shapes that had been advancing toward her. They shrieked—distorted, inhuman—and vanished in a puff of smoky black mist.
Zara staggered backward, her chest heaving, eyes wide. She stared at her trembling hands.
"…What… am I?" she whispered.
Above her, hidden among the rooftops, a figure watched. A man. His eyes glowed faint gold in the darkness, calm yet predatory.
"So," he murmured to himself, voice barely audible over the rain,"the Umbra Legacy lives… at last."