Chapter 2 The Cut That Burned

It was the night before the Abuja Fashion Rise Expo - the moment Adura had been working toward for years. The small studio in Ilodé was glowing with life. Sketches hung on the walls like artwork, colorful fabrics lay neatly stacked, and the final garments shimmered on the racks like royalty waiting to be crowned.

Adura couldn't stop smiling.

"Tolani, can you believe this? From sewing under candlelight to walking the Abuja runway," she said, brushing lint off a dazzling red dress.

Tolani, seated near the window, forced a tired smile. "I believe it. We earned it."

Adura didn't notice the hesitation in her voice. She didn't see the way Tolani avoided her eyes. She couldn't imagine her best friend - her sister in all but blood - hiding betrayal behind a smile.

By midnight, they hugged goodnight and promised to meet early for their trip to Abuja.

But morning never came the way it should have.

4:43 AM.

Adura's phone buzzed non-stop. At first, she ignored it. But when her neighbor, Mama Bisi, banged on her door shouting her name, she bolted out of bed.

"Adura! Your shop! Your shop is gone!"

Gone?

She sprinted barefoot through the dust, her heart thundering like a storm. When she turned the corner and saw the studio...

Her legs gave out.

The door was wide open. The lock had been broken. Inside, every machine, every fabric, every dress was gone. Completely emptied out like it never existed. Only the sketches remained - ripped, trampled, forgotten on the floor.

"T-Tolani?" she stammered, already dialing her number.

Switched off.

She tried again. And again. Same result.

Her breath grew shaky. Panic took over.

She asked around - no one had seen Tolani since the night before. Some said she left in a black SUV at dawn. Others said she was spotted at the park with heavy bags. None of it made sense.

By noon, the truth was clear.

Tolani had stolen everything.

Adura collapsed on the studio floor. The weight of it crushed her - the betrayal, the loss, the shame. It wasn't just about money or clothes. It was the fact that the person she trusted with her soul had torn it apart.

She didn't eat. Didn't sleep. For days, she wandered Ilodé like a ghost, hiding from questions, refusing to believe the betrayal.

Then came the final blow.

One afternoon, while sitting by the roadside, she heard a group of students talking excitedly. They were watching a TikTok clip on one of their phones.

"Ah, see that new collection by Mistress Olohun na! Mad oh! Ember Collection, they call am. Na fire!"

Adura froze.

She leaned closer and saw it - her designs. The red silks, the golden embroidery, the fire motif. Everything had been stolen. Branded. Showcased.

And the name? Ember Collection.

It was her work.

But her name was nowhere.

That night, unable to take it anymore, Adura climbed the rocky hills outside Ilodé, the ones her grandmother once warned her about. The wind howled. Her body trembled. She fell to her knees, staring at the full moon.

"Why?" she whispered.

"Why did she do this to me?"

She screamed. She wept until no tears were left. She thought of jumping - of ending it all. But then...

The wind stopped.

The ground beneath her glowed faintly. A warmth surged in her chest. The air shimmered, and suddenly - a flame rose from the earth. Not a fire to burn, but a fire to reveal.

From within the flame stepped a figure.

Her grandmother.

Clothed in white, her eyes glowing, she reached forward and touched Adura's heart.

"Omo mi... betrayal is the gate. But fire is your path. You were not meant to follow. You were meant to become."

Adura gasped. The warmth spread through her veins. Her hands lit up with soft fire, glowing with energy she never knew she had. She rose slowly, her hair dancing in the wind.

She was no longer just a girl who'd been betrayed.

She was the beginning of something greater.

She was fire reborn.