Chapter 5 The Gift and the Curse

Elion couldn't sleep. Again.

He sat on the edge of his new luxury apartment's balcony, staring out over the twinkling skyline. The world was his now-or at least, that's how it looked on paper. A six-figure balance, designer watches gifted anonymously, strangers calling him "sir," and now a multimillion-dollar investment offer. All of it had materialized in a matter of days.

And yet... he'd never felt more afraid.

His phone buzzed beside him.

1 New Notification: $1,000,000.00 Deposited.

Memo: Omega Tech Capital Investment Grant.

Elion shut his eyes.

He hadn't signed anything.

Hadn't pitched a product.

Hadn't even delivered a prototype.

And yet, here he was-worth a million dollars overnight.

"She said she rewards obedience..." he murmured, "but this isn't reward. This is... control."

A Night Visit

Around 2:00 a.m., just as he started dozing off, a presence surged into the room. Cold wind rushed in-despite the windows being closed. The temperature dropped, and the shadows along the ceiling began to coil and dance.

And then she appeared.

Ayélà.

Tall. Enchanting. Terrifying. Her skin shimmered like moonlight over deep water. Her hair flowed like a river of stars.

She didn't walk-she glided.

"You're worried," she said softly, the air vibrating with her voice. "Yet you wear my gifts. Sleep on my bed. Spend my money."

Elion stood slowly. "You've made me rich, but I don't even know why. Why me?"

Ayélà tilted her head, a sly smile on her lips. "You are the chosen vessel. My gateway. I have watched you for years, Elion. You carry a rare purity... and a hunger the world tried to extinguish."

"And now?"

"Now you are mine."

He frowned. "What does that mean?"

Ayélà walked toward him. The shadows followed her like loyal pets.

"I will elevate you," she whispered. "To power, influence, and desire. But in return, you must serve my will. Without question."

Elion's fists tightened. "What if I say no?"

Her expression didn't change.

But everything around him did.

The walls cracked. The lights flickered. His breath caught in his throat as the floor rumbled beneath him.

Then... silence.

Ayélà's face was now just inches from his.

"You won't," she said gently. "Because you've already tasted the curse of poverty. And the world never forgets how to starve a man who walks away from the divine."

She kissed his forehead-ice and fire all at once-then vanished.

The room returned to normal.

But Elion wasn't the same anymore.

Public Success, Private Struggle

By morning, he was featured in Forbes Africa under a headline that read:

"Tech Visionary Elion Storms to Success: A Millionaire's Rise from the Slums."

The article praised his "innovative platform" and "groundbreaking leadership."

The irony?

He hadn't built anything yet. Not a line of code. Not a team.

Still, invitations flooded in-radio interviews, tech panels, endorsements.

He was the face of inspiration.

But behind the scenes, the goddess's influence deepened.

Every night, she came to him in dreams.

Sometimes with affection.

Other times, as a storm.

She showed him visions-of cities burning, of riches piled before his feet, of women calling out his name. Then just as suddenly, she'd show him graves. Empty chairs. Fading photographs.

"You rise by me," she'd say, "but you fall by your own rebellion."

The Choice

By the second week, Elion received an email from a top charity requesting partnership.

It felt like the first real thing-a way to give back.

He smiled for the first time in days.

He drafted a message offering $50,000 in support and clicked Send.

Seconds later, his phone rang.

Ayélà's voice echoed like thunder.

"Did I authorize this?"

Elion froze.

"It's my money," he said slowly.

A pause.

"No," she replied. "It's mine-loaned to you through favor. You do not use my gifts to serve others unless I decree it."

He clenched his jaw. "They need help."

"You need obedience."

The line went dead.

The next morning, the donation had been withdrawn. The charity received an apology email Elion didn't write.

And the same day, his mother called him, panicking.

She'd suddenly developed chest pains. Doctors were baffled. No diagnosis. No treatment. Just... pain.

Elion's chest tightened.

He got the message.

What She Gives, She Watches

As days passed, Elion learned the rules:

You don't give unless she says so.

You don't question her gifts.

You don't form attachments without permission.

Every deviation had consequences.

But now, something deeper was awakening in him-a resistance.

He'd survived the streets without a god.

He'd built hope from nothing.

Was he really going to trade freedom for wealth?

Ayélà might have chosen him...

But what if he chose something else?

Something bigger?

Something human?

Elion sat alone in the dark, his hands shaking.

The gift had become a curse.

And he wasn't sure how much longer he could live with the price.