Chapter Twenty-Three: When the Oil Is Tested
Stephen drifted in and out of consciousness.
Pain came in waves—not sharp enough to kill him, not gentle enough to ignore. His body lay still, but his spirit was awake, alert in a place that felt neither like sleep nor waking.
He stood in a vast, dim valley.
There were no screams here. No fire. No chaos.
Just pressure.
It pressed on his chest, his thoughts, his will—like an invisible weight asking a single question:
Will you still stand when no one is watching?
Stephen dropped to his knees.
Between Breath and Spirit
In the physical world, doctors hovered anxiously.
"His vitals are stable," one said, adjusting a monitor. "But he's not responding."
Favour stood at the foot of the bed, hands trembling, eyes red from hours of crying. She had prayed, shouted, whispered, and gone silent. Now she simply watched.
"He can hear," she said quietly. "I know he can."
She leaned closer.
"Stephen," she whispered, "don't fight alone."
KOA Smells Blood
In the spirit realm, KOA rejoiced cautiously.
"He is down," an elder said. "Not dead—but weakened."
Ayanmo coiled slowly, tasting the air. "This is the moment," it hissed. "When oil leaks."
The council gathered closer.
"When a vessel cracks," another said, "what is inside spills."
They leaned forward.
"What spills from him—faith or bitterness?"
The Valley of Questions
In the valley, Stephen struggled to his feet.
The air vibrated with unseen voices—not accusations, but memories.
Your father served us.
Your blood answered us first.
You have lost friends.
You have lost peace.
Stephen covered his ears.
"Enough," he whispered.
The ground beneath him shifted.
A figure appeared in the distance.
It looked like him.
But darker.
Thinner.
Its eyes burned with exhaustion.
"Look at you," the figure said softly. "Broken. Alone. Still pretending this is victory."
Stephen stared at it.
"You are tired," the figure continued. "Admit it."
Stephen swallowed hard.
"I am," he said.
The figure smiled.
"And yet you keep standing," it said. "Why?"
Stephen closed his eyes.
"Because if I sit down," he whispered, "others won't stand at all."
The Oil Begins to Flow
The valley cracked open.
From Stephen's chest—not blood, not light—oil began to flow.
It was thick. Heavy. Costly.
With it came memories:
Long nights of prayer.
Moments of doubt.
Loneliness masked as strength.
Obedience without applause.
Stephen realized something then.
This was not punishment.
This was extraction.
Oil only flows when pressed.
Favour's Breaking Point
Back in the hospital, Favour finally broke.
She stepped into the hallway and slid down the wall, sobbing openly.
"I didn't ask for this," she cried. "I just wanted to serve You."
Her voice shook.
"But I'm still here," she said through tears. "So please… don't take him."
Her prayer wasn't polished.
It was raw.
And heaven listened.
A New Door Opens
In the valley, a door appeared.
Not golden.
Not dramatic.
Simple.
Wooden.
It stood alone.
A voice spoke—gentle, firm.
You can rest.
Stephen stepped toward it.
And stopped.
Behind him, the valley trembled.
He turned.
In the distance, he saw faces.
Students.
Young believers.
Broken people watching him.
Waiting.
Stephen stepped away from the door.
"Not yet," he said quietly.
The door vanished.
The valley shook violently.
KOA Panics
In the spirit realm, alarms erupted.
"He refused rest," an elder shouted. "He chose burden!"
Ayanmo hissed angrily. "That choice seals authority."
The council erupted in confusion.
"This is not normal faith," one spat. "This is inheritance."
Return to the Body
Stephen gasped suddenly.
His eyes flew open.
Machines beeped wildly.
"Stephen!" Favour cried, rushing to his side.
He inhaled deeply, like someone surfacing from deep water.
"I'm here," he whispered hoarsely.
Tears streamed down Favour's face.
"You scared me," she said.
Stephen turned his head slightly.
"They're afraid now," he murmured.
The Cost Revealed
Recovery was slow.
Pain lingered.
Strength returned gradually.
But something had changed.
Stephen was quieter—not weaker, but deeper.
During prayer one evening, he finally spoke.
"This oil," he said slowly, "is not for comfort."
Favour nodded.
"It's for light," she replied.
Stephen looked at her.
"And light attracts resistance."
The Next Target
That night, Stephen saw a vision.
A map.
Nigeria spread before him.
Dark nodes pulsed across regions.
Then one bright spot appeared.
A campus.
Crowded.
Vulnerable.
Stephen's heart clenched.
"They're going after the young ones," he whispered.
KOA had changed tactics.
If they couldn't stop Stephen…
They would corrupt his future harvest.
A Dangerous Resolve
Stephen sat up in bed despite the pain.
"We move," he said firmly.
Favour hesitated. "You're not fully healed."
Stephen met her eyes.
"Oil doesn't wait for comfort," he said. "It flows where it's needed."
Outside, thunder rolled faintly.
Not in warning.
In agreement.
End of Chapter Twenty-Three
Stephen Dagunduro had crossed another line.
Not the line of power.
The line of responsibility.
He was no longer just fighting darkness.
He was guarding generations.
And KOA knew it.
"But the oil in the lamp of the wise did not run out."
— Matthew 25:4