Chapter Twenty-Two: The Wound Within
Victory did not bring relief.
Stephen learned that quickly.
The morning after the midnight stand, the air felt heavy—not with fear, but with consequence. It was the kind of stillness that followed a loud clash, when both sides stepped back to assess damage. Birds chirped as usual. Students moved across campus. Life continued on the surface.
But underneath, something was bleeding.
Stephen sat alone, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly. His body ached in places he could not explain. Not sickness. Not injury.
Resistance.
Every major spiritual confrontation left scars, and this one had cut deeper than he expected.
"This is the cost," he murmured.
The Aftershock
Reports came in steadily.
Altars had cracked, yes—but not all had fallen. Some had retreated, burrowing deeper into secrecy. KOA had not lost territory entirely; they had merely adjusted their posture.
Darkness never vanished immediately.
It adapted.
Favour noticed the change in Stephen immediately.
"You're quieter," she said as they walked together under the shade of an old mango tree.
Stephen gave a faint smile. "I'm listening."
"To what?"
"To the silence between attacks," he replied. "That's where the next blow hides."
Favour stopped walking.
"Stephen," she said carefully, "even soldiers need rest."
He looked at her.
"And what if rest is the opening they're waiting for?"
The Fracture Among the Watchmen
The shaking did not come from KOA first.
It came from within.
Stephen received the message late in the evening.
We need to talk.
It was from Daniel—one of the earliest watchmen, a fiery intercessor whose prayers once set rooms ablaze with faith.
They met quietly.
Daniel's face was tense, his eyes restless.
"This thing has gone too far," Daniel said abruptly.
Stephen frowned. "What do you mean?"
"We're losing people," Daniel snapped. "Fear is spreading. Parents are calling. Churches are pulling back."
Stephen inhaled slowly.
"This war was never convenient," he said.
Daniel shook his head. "You're asking too much. Not everyone was called for open confrontation."
Stephen's voice hardened. "No one is forced to stay."
Silence stretched between them.
Daniel looked away.
"Then I'm stepping back," he said quietly.
Stephen felt it then.
Not anger.
Betrayal.
The First Cut
Daniel wasn't the only one.
By the end of the week, others followed.
Some left quietly.
Some questioned leadership.
Some accused Stephen of pride, extremism, recklessness.
KOA didn't need to attack directly.
Division was doing the work for them.
Favour watched Stephen closely.
"You can't carry this alone," she said.
Stephen nodded. "I know."
But knowing did not lighten the burden.
KOA's Whisper Campaign
In the spirit realm, KOA smiled.
"They are turning on each other," an elder said with satisfaction.
Ayanmo's voice slithered through the council. "Internal wounds fester longer than external ones."
The governor—now fully initiated—leaned forward.
"Do we strike now?"
Baba Dagunduro's former seat remained empty, but his influence lingered like a shadow.
"Not yet," the council replied. "Let confusion deepen."
A Dangerous Invitation
The email came unexpectedly.
A regional Christian conference.
Stephen was invited to speak.
Publicly.
Favour read the message twice. "This is sudden."
Stephen stared at the screen.
"This is bait," he said calmly.
"Then don't go," Favour replied instantly.
Stephen shook his head slowly.
"If I refuse, fear wins," he said. "If I go, truth confronts darkness openly."
Favour's heart sank.
"And if it's a trap?"
Stephen met her eyes.
"Then it's a test."
The Night Before
Stephen could not sleep.
The room felt crowded though he was alone.
He knelt beside his bed, forehead pressed to the floor.
"Lord," he whispered, "I didn't ask for visibility. I asked for obedience."
No thunder answered.
No vision came.
Only a quiet assurance settled in his spirit—not emotional, but firm.
Stand.
Stephen rose slowly.
The Conference Hall
The hall was packed.
Worship thundered through speakers. Hands were raised. Faces shone with expectation.
Stephen stood behind the curtain, heart pounding—not with fear, but with awareness.
This was a crossroads.
When he stepped onto the stage, the applause was loud.
Too loud.
Stephen didn't smile.
He scanned the crowd.
And then he saw her.
Risi.
Seated calmly in the third row.
Smiling.
His breath caught.
The Trap Revealed
As Stephen began to speak, the atmosphere shifted subtly.
His words were clear, but resistance rose like a wall.
Then it happened.
A woman screamed.
Another collapsed.
Chaos erupted.
People shouted, some prayed, others ran.
Stephen understood instantly.
"They planted it here," he muttered.
Risi stood up slowly.
Their eyes locked.
This was not seduction.
This was war.
Standing in the Fire
Stephen raised his voice.
"This is not the end of faith," he declared. "This is exposure."
Fear rippled through the hall.
Stephen continued.
"Darkness hides where light is silent. Today, silence ends."
The ground shook slightly.
People froze.
Something unseen recoiled.
The Price of Obedience
But victory was not free.
Stephen felt a sharp pain slice through his side.
He staggered.
Favour screamed his name from the crowd.
Stephen dropped to one knee.
Risi's smile vanished.
This was not supposed to happen.
Stephen whispered through clenched teeth.
"Even if this body breaks… the covenant stands."
Light surged.
Aftermath
The attack broke.
People wept openly.
Some repented.
Others fled.
Stephen was rushed out, barely conscious.
As darkness closed in, he heard a voice—not accusing, not distant.
You are not alone.
End of Chapter Twenty-Two
Stephen lay unconscious, body battered but spirit intact.
KOA had failed to silence him.
But they had wounded him deeply.
And now, the war was no longer theoretical.
It was personal.
"Smite the shepherd, and the sheep shall be scattered: but I will turn my hand upon the little ones."
— Zechariah 13:7