The Lost king

---

 – Bankode's Defeat

With the final rune shattered and power source vanished, light burst across the battlefield.

Bankode's altar cracked.

Then it collapsed—the wave of magic surging upward, tearing through the dark sky, ripping apart the remaining enchantments that protected the Ojora Empire.

The ancient priest screamed as his power unraveled. His relic cracked like glass.

> "No!" he cried. "I am the god beneath gods—"

The light silenced him.

Bankode was no more.

The spiritual barrier blanketing the capital fell like torn fabric.

---

II. Ayomide's Camp – Femi & Damilola Return

The camp near the Ayo border buzzed with low murmurs and the clatter of returning feet.

Femi walked beside Damilola, their armor scratched, but their steps steady.

Ayomide rose from a nearby tent, sharp-eyed as always.

> "Femi," he called. "How did it go?"

Femi lowered his spear.

> "Durojaiye is dead. The women are free. Damilola led us with strength. But… something happened."

Ayomide tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

Femi looked away a moment, then back.

> "She… hugged me. Just once. It was like something broke in her. She cried, Ayomide. I've never seen her like that."

Ayomide grinned knowingly.

> "Maybe you're the one she trusts."

Femi chuckled, flustered.

> "I don't know. She's still healing. I won't push it. But… I'll help her. I promise."

Ayomide clapped him on the shoulder.

> "You've grown, brother. I'm proud."

Just then, Damilola appeared with the freed women, a wave of rebel fighters surrounding them. Her expression was unreadable—stoic as always. But something in her walk was lighter.

Femi watched her, silently.

---

III. News Reaches the Front – The Fall of Bankode

A rebel scout rushed into the camp, panting.

> "It's done. Bankode… he's been defeated!"

Gasps spread like fire. Ayomide's eyes lit up.

> "So the gates are open."

Adeola, beside him, tightened his gauntlets.

> "Then it's time."

He turned to the massing rebels behind him.

> "We move now. No more waiting. No more fear. This is the final storm."

Swords raised. Banners lifted. The forest trembled as thousands surged forward.

---

IV. The Weight of Loss – Moremi Returns

In the heart of the eastern hills, Yemi, Bayo, and Morenike regrouped.

Bloodied. Worn. Triumphant.

Moremi approached slowly. Her eyes heavy.

Yemi turned.

> "Moremi?"

She nodded once.

> "Akinmule… he held the line. Fought till the end. He saved us all."

A silence fell.

Bayo lowered his axe.

Morenike whispered a prayer.

Yemi bowed his head.

> "He was more than what he once was. He died redeemed."

Moremi didn't cry. But her hand touched the hilt of her blade like a farewell.

---

V. Rise of the Storm – The Final March

The rebel forces, now united, converged on the Ojora palace.

The capital shook under their march.

Adeola and Ayomide led the charge — at the front of a sea of warriors.

Arrows flew. Magic sizzled. The imperial guards fought desperately.

But they were unshielded. Vulnerable.

Adeola moved like lightning—cutting through their lines, every slash of his blade a declaration.

His eyes burned with only one name: Adekunle.

---

VI. Inside the Throne Room – King Adekunle's POV

Smoke drifted in through the palace windows.

King Adekunle sat on his golden throne, eyes fixed on the floor.

An imperial captain rushed in.

> "Your Majesty—we must flee! The rebels—"

> "No."

The word came like stone.

Adekunle rose slowly, robes trailing.

> "I have ruled for decades. Crushed kings. Killed rebels. Built an empire on blood."

His eyes gleamed with cruel calm.

> "If the boy wants vengeance, let him come. I will end this bloodline with my own hands."

The captain hesitated, then bowed and fled.

Adekunle stood alone in his hall.

Sword in hand.

Waiting.

---

Closing Image:

From the horizon to the palace gates, the rebels stormed like a tide of fate.

Adeola, blood-streaked, eyes cold, pushed open the great golden doors.

Inside, King Adekunle waited.

The final reckoning had come.