The Lost king

POV: ADEOLA

Every step into the throne room feels like walking through memory.

The walls are tall, cruel, and familiar—not because I grew up here, but because my nightmares have always brought me back to this place.

I see his face.

King Adekunle Ojora.

The tyrant.

The man who ordered my family burned.

The man who crushed entire kingdoms for power.

He stands with that same calm arrogance. That cold smile. The same presence from my dreams—except now, I'm awake. And I'm not a child anymore.

ADEKUNLE

"You made it, boy."

Boy.

He still sees me as a ghost in rags. A rebel with a cause he doesn't understand.

I draw my sword.

Let him see what I've become.

---

The clash begins.

Steel on steel. Sparks dance like fireflies in the dark.

Each swing is more than a blow—it's a scream for my father, a cry for my mother. A tribute to every friend I've buried in this war.

Flash — Wale teaching me how to block.

Flash — Chief Alade saying "You carry more than blood, Adeola."

Flash — Moremi whispering, "You are meant for more."

I'm fighting for all of them.

But he's strong. Skilled. He knows how to wound and wear down. I falter.

And then—

ADEKUNLE

"This is the same place I killed your parents."

Time slows.

I see fire.

Screams.

My mother shielding me.

My father crawling.

I feel rage swell—but I do not fall to it. I rise because of it.

Not for vengeance.

For justice.

---

POV: ADEKUNLE

He looks like him.

He fights like him.

That stare…

It's his brother's. My brother.

The one I murdered to seize this throne.

I should have killed the boy too.

I tried. Gods know I tried.

I burned their names from history. I sent hunters, assassins, priests.

But fate, it seems, is harder to kill.

And now… he's here. In my halls. In my face. With the eyes of the man I betrayed.

He fights well. Too well.

But I know war. I've bathed in it for decades. And now—he's on the ground. Disarmed. Shaken.

I move to finish it.

"You're just like him," I sneer. "Begging for mercy."

But he doesn't beg.

He rises.

Not like a prince.

Like a storm.

And suddenly— I'm the one backing up.

---

He cuts through my defenses like memory through pride.

I stumble. My blood spills.

My knees hit the cold floor.

And I see him. Not the boy.

Not even the rebel.

The king.

The one I feared would return.

ADEKUNLE (whispering)

"I always knew."

I fall. The weight of my sins, too great for even a throne to hold.

---

POV: ADEOLA

He collapses. Finally. Completely.

And for the first time… there is silence.

Not just in the hall.

In me.

I pick up the crown.

Not out of desire.

But out of duty.

It's not just my father's crown now.

It's every fallen village. Every scream. Every hope.

The throne is before me.

And I no longer walk in my father's shadow.

I walk in my own light.

POV: MOREMI

The sky cracks above us, the last of the enemy retreating, collapsing like the rotten empire they served. My magic still burns along my arms, but I barely feel it now.

I feel… pulled.

Not by pain. Not by fatigue.

By something else.

I move through the battlefield, stepping over broken swords and bloodied ground, following the trail of silence that leads into the palace.

Something inside me already knows.

Already feels the shift.

He's done it.

---

INT. OJORA PALACE – HALLWAY OUTSIDE THE THRONE ROOM

I walk past fallen guards. Some still groan. Most don't move at all.

And then I see them—

Yemi, standing tall with his blade lowered.

Bayo, clutching his side but smiling.

Femi and Damilola, side by side, quiet for once.

Ayomide, calm, watching the door.

Their eyes turn toward me… then toward the open throne room.

I step through.

---

INT. THRONE ROOM – CONTINUOUS

There he is.

Adeola.

Standing with his back to me.

His figure strong.

But his shoulders — heavy.

At his feet lies King Adekunle.

The tyrant. The monster.

The man who took everything from all of us.

The war is over.

And still… Adeola doesn't move.

His sword is lowered. In his hand: the crown.

---

FLASHBACK – 

I see him for the first time in the rebel camp — lost, unsure, wounded by truth.

I see the night he first stood up to Yemi, when his voice trembled but his conviction didn't.

I see the moment I healed him in secret after the battle in Akinwumi village — the touch that lingered.

And I see him smile at me. Not as a rebel.

Not as a warrior.

But just… as a man.

A man I chose to believe in.

---

BACK TO PRESENT

He turns slowly, and our eyes meet.

And for the first time in so long, I see peace on his face.

Not joy.

Not triumph.

Peace.

MOREMI

(softly, stepping closer)

It's over, isn't it?

ADEOLA

(quietly)

It is.

I look down at the crown.

Not with envy.

Not with fear.

But with the understanding that this weight was always meant for him.

He holds it, but doesn't place it on his head.

Not yet.

MOREMI

The world will want you to wear it.

ADEOLA

What if I'm not ready?

I step closer, hand gently brushing his.

MOREMI

Then let them wait.

(beat)

We are still standing. And that's enough—for now.

---

They don't kiss.

Not yet.

But the silence between them is warm. Whole.

The war may be over… but their story is only beginning.