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Chapter Eighteen: When the Heavens Went Silent
The silence did not come suddenly.
It crept.
Stephen noticed it first during prayer.
Words still left his mouth, but they felt thin, weightless, as though they fell to the ground before reaching heaven. The fire that once responded instantly now flickered weakly, like a lamp starved of oil.
Something was wrong.
He stopped praying and listened.
The heavens felt… closed.
A City Under Spiritual Blackout
Across the city, the same thing was happening.
Prayer meetings ended early. Worship felt dry. Dreams stopped. Prophetic insight vanished. Even seasoned believers struggled to hear God. It was as though an invisible veil had been drawn between heaven and earth.
Favour felt it too.
"This is deliberate," she whispered as they walked across campus. "This isn't exhaustion. This is suppression."
Stephen nodded grimly. "KOA has shifted again."
In the spirit realm, Baba Dagunduro stood smiling.
"Darkness does not need to destroy light," he said calmly. "It only needs to separate it from its source."
The Ritual of Silence
KOA had activated something rare.
An ancient rite known among them as The Seal of Stillness.
It was not built to summon demons or kill bodies. It was designed to mute heaven—to delay answers, weaken faith, and frustrate perseverance.
Altars of silence were planted across the city—on crossroads, abandoned buildings, compromised churches, and even government offices. Each altar whispered the same lie:
God is no longer listening.
Stephen felt the weight of it pressing into his chest.
For the first time since his conversion, fear returned—not loud, but subtle.
Risi's Assignment
Risi knelt before Baba Dagunduro.
"You will not attack him directly," Baba Dagunduro said. "You will break his endurance."
Risi bowed her head.
"He is already tired," she replied. "The silence will finish the work."
Baba Dagunduro's eyes narrowed. "Then go. Stand near him. Let doubt do the killing."
The Pressure Intensifies
Days passed.
Stephen fasted—but answers delayed.
He prayed—but heaven seemed distant.
The watchmen grew restless.
"Maybe we're doing something wrong," one said quietly.
Another whispered, "What if God has stepped back?"
Stephen said nothing, but the questions pierced him deeply.
Late one night, alone in his room, Stephen finally broke.
"Lord," he whispered, voice cracking, "where are You?"
No answer came.
The silence screamed.
Risi at the Door
A knock came.
Stephen opened the door.
Risi stood there.
Not seductive.
Not threatening.
Just… human.
"You look tired," she said softly.
Stephen didn't reply.
She stepped inside, eyes scanning the room. "You pray. You fast. You suffer. And still—nothing."
His jaw tightened.
She continued gently, "What if the silence means something? What if heaven has stepped aside to let you choose?"
Stephen felt the temptation sink deep.
"What are you saying?" he asked quietly.
Risi met his eyes. "KOA doesn't need your soul anymore. Just your agreement. Stop fighting. Stop resisting. Let the city be what it is."
The room felt colder.
Stephen trembled.
The Edge of Breaking
For the first time, Stephen considered it.
Not joining KOA.
Just… stopping.
No more warfare. No more watchmen. No more burden.
The thought felt like relief.
And that terrified him.
He fell to his knees.
"No," he whispered. "This silence is not rejection. This is testing."
Risi stepped back sharply, her expression darkening.
"You are stubborn," she hissed. "Even silence cannot bend you."
She vanished.
The Revelation
That night, Stephen dreamed.
He stood at Golgotha.
The cross loomed above him—but the sky was dark, silent.
Then he realized something.
The silence had been there before.
On the cross.
"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
Stephen woke up sobbing.
The silence was not abandonment.
It was identification.
Strength in the Silence
Stephen gathered the watchmen.
"We are not being punished," he said firmly. "We are being refined."
He looked at each of them.
"When heaven is silent, faith must speak."
They knelt.
Not begging.
Not shouting.
Just believing.
Something shifted.
Not loudly.
But deeply.
KOA Trembles
In the spirit realm, cracks appeared in the altars of silence.
"Why isn't it working?" an elder hissed.
Baba Dagunduro's face hardened.
"Because the boy understands now," he said. "He's standing without reassurance."
Ayanmo stirred uneasily.
"This phase has failed."
Baba Dagunduro smiled thinly.
"Then we remove something precious."
The End of Chapter Eighteen
Stephen stood alone at dawn.
The silence was still there—but it no longer frightened him.
He understood now.
Faith that depends on feelings collapses.
Faith that survives silence becomes dangerous.
And somewhere in the darkness, KOA prepared its cruelest move yet—one that would cost Stephen something he loved deeply.
The war was about to turn personal.
"Blessed is he that waiteth, and cometh to the thousand three hundred and five and thirty days."
— Daniel 12:12