The Lost king

Scene 1: The Fall

The battlefield was soaked in blood and ash.

.

Clouds of dark mist, summoned by Bankode's twisted ritual, slithered through the ranks of the Ojora soldiers. Their eyes—once human—now burned with a red glow. Their flesh had hardened like stone. When they charged, they felt nothing. No arrows pierced them. No wounds slowed them.

Across the plains, screams rose like thunder.

An archer from Ibadi loosed arrows into the charging horde. They hit. They lodged. But the creatures kept coming. He turned to run—but a spear met him in the gut. He didn't cry. Only choked once. Then silence.

A warrior from Irebi clashed swords with one of them. Her blade broke against its chest. She struck with fists, kicks, desperation. It grabbed her head.

A whisper of wind. Then, nothing remained but the dust.

Others fought back with honor. They held ground near burning villages. Some made barricades from corpses. Some stood back to back with brothers-in-arms. But the monsters never tired. And hope, for many, bled out into the soil.

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Scene 2: The Ashes of Defeat

Akinwumi village. What remained of it.

Wounded were everywhere—laid on bloodied cloth, leaned against broken walls, breathing shallow. Smoke twisted into the evening sky. Children hid behind crates. Elders sat in silence. What was once the heart of rebellion had become a graveyard-in-waiting.

Soldiers argued.

> "We should've stayed home!" "The alliance is dead." "They said they had heroes. Where are they now?"

Voices rose. One rebel punched another. Cries of betrayal, fear, rage—it stirred like a swarm.

Then—

A horn.

It rang not loud, but deep. The kind that settled into bones, into memory. Heads turned.

They stood on the hill—seven shadows against a blood-red sun.

Adeola. Yemi. Moremi. Bayo. Damilola. Femi. Akinmule.

And behind them, Morenike, her staff glowing faintly.

They walked through the camp. No words. Just presence.

The noise died. Whispers filled the silence.

> "They returned..." "They survived... the darkness..." "Look at their eyes... they've changed."

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Scene 3: The POVs

Adeola's POV

He looked at the wounded, the dead, the shattered hopes. The nightmares he escaped still burned inside his chest. His voice, though cracked, was steady.

> "I have seen what they took from us… and what they fear most is that we remember who we are."

He knelt and took a dying soldier's hand. Whispered something. Something only the broken could understand. The man smiled before slipping away.

Yemi's POV

The cloak of his father clung to his shoulders like weight. He stepped before the surviving commanders.

> "You say the alliance has fallen. Then build it again. You say the warriors are gone. Then rise as warriors."

He didn't shout. He didn't plead.

He gave orders. And for the first time, they were followed without hesitation.

Bayo's POV

He found a tattered banner in the mud. Its colors faded. He lifted it. It was heavy, not from cloth—but memory.

> "No more excuses. No more blame. If this is our end, let it be standing."

Others gathered around him. Broken swords. Cracked shields. Shaking hands. Still, they stood.

Damilola's POV

She moved from body to body, whispering calming words, wrapping wounds, brushing tears. She paused by a dying boy—no older than her brother once was.

> "Rest. The fire will keep burning. I promise you."

She kissed his forehead as his eyes closed.

Femi's POV

He gave water. Shared food. Stopped a man from ending his own life.

> "If we fall today… then tomorrow, someone else will rise because we did not run."

Akinmule's POV

He called out for volunteers. Only a few stepped forward at first.

> "I do not ask for your life. Only your will."

Then more came. Then more.

And he trained them. Just as he once did under a tyrant. But this time, for freedom.

Moremi's POV

She sat at the edge of camp, sharpening her blade.

She remembered her brother's eyes.

She remembered the way Adedayo smiled when he killed him.

> "When next we meet," she whispered to her blade, "you will drink vengeance."

Morenike's POV

She lay in a quiet corner, her staff across her lap. Sweat beaded her brow. She had spent much of her strength.

But her spirit stirred.

> "There is one more battle… and I will not let them walk alone."

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Scene 4: In the Chambers of the Enemy

Adekunle Ojora stared into the flames. He paced. His knuckles white.

> "They rise again? After all this?"

Bankode stood calmly.

> "Let them rise," he said, "so we may watch them burn again."

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End of Chapter Fourteen

The fire hasn't died. The rebellion breathes again. But now, the final blow must be struck…