People began forgetting who they were.
A mother stood in the road, unable to recognise her own child.
Doctors forgot the names of their patients.
A bus driver stopped in traffic because he could not remember where he was going.
The spirits were taking True Names.
Adisa should have been resting.
Instead, he stood beside Zara outside a hospital, one hand pressed against the bandage at his side.
Gris Charnel clung weakly to his skin.
The fragrance had lost its warmth. It smelled thin, strained—fig and wood beneath antiseptic and blood.
Zara had reapplied Portrait of a Lady before leaving the house.
She did not know why.
Now she understood.
Whenever a spirit tried to take a name, the rose rose sharply from her skin.
Kofi arrived with Dr. Obi and Amara.
Dr. Obi looked at Adisa’s bandage.
“You should not be standing.”
“So is the city,” Adisa replied.
Dr. Obi frowned. “That sentence does not make sense.”
“It does to him,” Zara said.
Amara held her head as another vision passed through her.
Babycat flared around her.
“Three more spirits are coming from the eastern road.”
Kofi looked toward the entrance.
“I will take the eastern side.”
Dr. Obi pointed to the hospital doors.
“Zara, inside. Adisa, stay with her.”
They moved through Lagos together.
Adisa held a collapsing building long enough for families to escape.
As the walls bent around his power, Gris Charnel filled the dust—dark tea and sandalwood forming a steady line through the panic.
Zara restored names one person at a time.
Each time she found a name, Portrait of a Lady returned to full rose.
Inside the hospital, she found a newborn fading from his body.
His mother was screaming.
A nurse stood beside the bed, confused and terrified.
“No one remembers his name,” the nurse said.
The mother reached for Zara.
“Please... please help my baby.”
Zara touched the child’s head.
The world around her went silent.
A name appeared inside her.
“Timi.”
Portrait of a Lady filled the ward.
The baby cried!
His mother remembered him at once.
“Timi!” she shouted, pulling him close.
The nurse covered her mouth.
Another woman in the ward whispered, “Who are you?”
Zara looked at the child.
“Someone who remembered.”
By dawn, Zara had saved more than a hundred people.
The rose on her skin had become faint.
She nearly collapsed outside the emergency entrance.
Adisa caught her.
For a moment, Portrait of a Lady and Gris Charnel held together in the morning air.
Kofi and Dr. Obi were helping survivors into waiting vehicles.
Amara sat nearby, shaking from the strain of her visions. Babycat burned around her like the last flame of a candle.
Zara rested her forehead against Adisa’s chest.
“I love you.”
He became still.
Gris Charnel deepened.
“But I do not trust you yet.”
“I understand.”
“You will never hide my fate from me again.”
“Never.”
Behind them, Babycat rose sharply.
Amara suddenly stood.
“Zara!”
The ground opened!
Black roots wrapped around Adisa’s legs.
He fell.
Kofi ran toward them.
“Hold him!”
Zara caught Adisa’s hand as the roots dragged him beneath the road.
His Gris Charnel disappeared into the opening.
Dr. Obi shouted for everyone to move back.
People nearby screamed and ran.
Zara held on.
Portrait of a Lady surged once.
Then the road closed over both of them.
Only the mixed scent of rose and black tea remained.
The Perfume in This Chapter
"Portrait of a Lady & Gris Charnel — when everything else is gone, sometimes all that's left to prove someone was there... is the scent they left behind."
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Frederic Malle Portrait Of A Lady
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