Chapter 6 Echoes beneath the skin

Chapter 6: Echoes Beneath the Skin

The safehouse was too quiet.

Even with the heavy Nairobi air pressing in through the cracks, even with the occasional call of nightbirds outside, Ayo couldn't sleep. He lay on the thin mattress, staring up at the ceiling, listening to Malakai's stillness across the room.

It was unnatural-how silent he could be. Like a statue. Like something that didn't breathe.

Because he didn't.

"Are you awake?" Ayo asked.

Malakai didn't answer immediately. Then, softly: "Yes."

Ayo turned onto his side. "Do you ever sleep?"

"Sometimes. But not like humans do. I drift."

"That sounds... lonely."

"It is."

The silence returned, heavier now, tinged with a sadness that made Ayo ache.

He sat up, pushing the blanket away. "Tell me something true," he said. "Something you've never told anyone."

Malakai looked at him through the dark. "Why?"

"Because if I'm supposed to trust you, I need to know you're more than shadows and sorrow."

Malakai stood, crossed the room, and sat beside him. His presence was a quiet gravity. After a moment, he said:

"I once tried to walk into the sun."

Ayo blinked. "Wait-what?"

"I thought it would end me. It didn't. I just burned." He touched his arm, as if remembering the pain. "I laid in the sand for hours, wishing the fire would take me."

Ayo swallowed. "Why?"

"Elijah had just died. I had nothing left."

Ayo stared at him, heart pounding. The pain in Malakai's voice wasn't theatrical. It was old. Bone-deep.

"But you survived."

"I always survive. That's the curse."

Ayo reached out instinctively, hand brushing Malakai's. His skin was cool, but not cold.

"Maybe it's not a curse," he whispered. "Maybe it's just... not finished yet."

Malakai looked at him, eyes flickering in the dark. "You sound like him."

"I feel like him sometimes," Ayo admitted. "Like he's breathing through me."

"That's because your soul remembers. Even if your mind doesn't."

Ayo hesitated. "If I wanted to remember... how would I do it?"

"There are ways. Some dangerous. Some gentle. Dreams. Touch. Blood."

"Blood?"

Malakai nodded. "When two souls are bound, blood can awaken echoes between them."

Ayo gave a half-laugh. "So if I drink your blood, I'll suddenly remember our past lives?"

"It's not so simple. But yes-it could bring memories closer to the surface. It's... intimate. Not something done lightly."

Ayo studied him. "Would it hurt?"

"Only a little," Malakai said. "But only if you're sure."

Ayo hesitated. Every logical part of his mind screamed no.

But something deeper, older, pulsed yes.

"Yes," he said.

Malakai searched his eyes, then nodded. He reached into his coat and retrieved a small, silver blade-worn, ceremonial.

"I'll make it shallow," he said.

Ayo nodded, throat dry.

Malakai sliced a thin line across his palm. Blood welled up, deep and dark, but it didn't fall. It shimmered, suspended, like it had its own gravity.

"Drink," he said.

Ayo leaned forward. The blood smelled of spice and storm, iron and memory. He pressed his lips to the cut.

The moment it touched his tongue, the world shifted.

His breath caught. His spine arched.

Fire. Water. A kiss beneath moonlight. A hand reaching for his across a battlefield. Laughter in a stone temple. Blood pooling between them. A promise broken. A death mourned.

Ayo fell backward, gasping.

Malakai caught him.

"It's all right," he murmured. "Breathe."

Ayo clutched his chest. "I saw him."

"Elijah."

"I saw you." He stared up at Malakai. "You were younger. But the same eyes. The same voice. I said I'd come back to you."

Malakai nodded. "And you did."

Tears welled in Ayo's eyes before he could stop them. "Why does it hurt so much?"

"Because grief echoes. Even across centuries."

Ayo buried his face in his hands, and for the first time in years, he cried-not for himself, but for the man he used to be. For the love that never got to finish its sentence.

Malakai sat with him in silence.

Later, when Ayo's breath evened out, Malakai helped him lie back down. He didn't return to the other side of the room this time. He stayed near, watching as Ayo drifted into sleep.

The dreams came differently that night.

Clearer.

He saw Elijah-his own face but not his-standing in a sun-drenched field, laughing with Malakai. They were younger, freer, wrapped in robes dyed with red earth and indigo. Malakai had shorter hair then. Elijah wore a pendant made of ivory and copper.

They were happy.

Then fire.

Always fire.

The temple burning. Screams. Malakai restrained by guards. Elijah dragged away by Rami, who was dressed in white, eyes cold as stone.

"You betrayed us," Elijah had whispered.

"You betrayed our kind," Rami had answered. "You chose love over blood."

"I chose truth."

And then-steel. A blade to the throat. Blood in the sand.

Ayo jolted awake, heart pounding.

Malakai was already watching him.

"You saw it," he said.

Ayo nodded. "He killed me."

Malakai's voice was raw. "I tried to stop him."

"I know." Ayo looked at him, breath shallow. "I remembered what it felt like. To love you."

A long silence passed between them.

"I want to remember everything," Ayo whispered. "Not just in flashes. I want it all."

"Then we'll find the relic," Malakai said. "And I'll protect you. I swear it."

Ayo reached for his hand. This time, Malakai didn't hesitate.

They sat like that as the first light of dawn slipped beneath the curtains-two souls, once torn apart, now drawn together by blood, memory, and something stronger than either: the slow, steady return of a love too deep to die.