The Òrìṣà Festival begins.
Drums echo through Akinwumi Village. Elders dance with painted faces, children sing folk songs, and hunters reenact heroic legends by torchlight. For the first time in moons, there is laughter, rhythm, and warmth. The rebel legion, wounded but breathing, gathers by the outskirts—Adeola, Moremi, Bayo, Ayomide, and Femi smiling softly under the twilight sky.
Moremi watches a child braid her sister's hair and whispers to herself:
> "Peace... is this what it could feel like?"
---
Yemi, however, stands near the forest edge, hand on his cutlass. Something in the air feels off. The birds are silent. The wind carries no scent. His heart won't calm.
> "Ọ̀run mọ ibi tí òràn ti máa rú... Heaven knows when trouble stirs," he mutters, eyes scanning the treeline.
---
Just before the final ceremonial dance begins, Wale and Adedayo appear. Dust clings to their boots, and sweat glistens on their brows. Wale wears a faint smile; Adedayo, behind him, carries something unreadable in his gaze.
Moremi gasps in joy, rushing to her brother.
> "You came. You're safe."
Wale hugs her, but his eyes flicker—weary, almost sensing something.
Then...
A sudden, sharp shlkkk!
Adedayo plunges a blade into Wale's back.
A hush falls. Then, screams.
Wale's body slumps forward, blood blooming across his agbada. He gasps, eyes wide in disbelief.
> "Adedayo...?"
---
From the festival shadows, Ojora soldiers emerge, blades glinting under torchlight.
Adedayo steps forward, his voice filled with cold bitterness:
> "I trained beside him. Bled beside him. Yet always, Wale the noble. Wale the chosen. But tell me—what of Adedayo, the forgotten?"
---
🔥 Flashback
Adedayo kneels before King Adekunle Ojora, cloak stained from travel.
> "Wale is a traitor. He's with the rebels. But I… I can give you his head."
Adekunle's stare is filled with contempt and curiosity.
> "A traitor turning in a traitor? You smell of desperation."
> "Make me general. Let me burn what Wale protects."
Adekunle smirks.
> "Very well. Cut him down. Prove your worth."
---
🎭 Back to Present
Panic erupts. Villagers scatter. Flames rise. The sacred festival turns into a nightmare.
Yemi bursts from the treeline, blade drawn.
> "Everyone take cover! Ọmọ aráyé, we're under attack!"
Moremi cradles Wale, blood on her hands. He whispers faintly:
> "Don't... trust him..."
Adeola, stunned, meets Adedayo's eyes.
In that moment, he sees not a man—but a soul consumed by envy.
> "You traded your soul for a title," Adeola growls.
> Adedayo: "No. I claimed what I was denied."
> The Lost King © 2025 by (Idris Bilal Adavize).
This is an original work protected by copyright. No part of this story may be reproduced or used in any form without the author's written permission.
This chapter was never meant to be loud with war or fire — until it had to be.
I wanted to create a false sense of peace. A pause. A moment where the rebel legion, and the readers, could breathe. After everything they've endured — the battles, the losses, the dreams inside Bankode's nightmare — they deserve a festival, a gathering, a heartbeat of joy.
The Òrìṣà Festival was that heartbeat. A return to roots. Culture. Laughter. Firelight. Children singing. Elders dancing. It was a return to home — even if just for one night.
But peace, in The Lost King, is never simple.
And betrayal always waits in the dark.
Adedayo's betrayal was not random. It's a mirror — a reminder that war is not just fought by blades, but by wounds left unspoken. In his eyes, Wale got everything: love, respect, honor. But no one ever asked what Adedayo felt growing up in the same empire, under the same shadow.
And so, in the middle of tradition and unity, we get a knife.
Not just into Wale's back — but into the heart of the rebellion.
Moremi's scream, Yemi's alarm, Adeola's fury — all stem from that central heartbreak: How do we defend against the ones we once called brother?
This scene was about legacy vs resentment, loyalty vs ego, blood vs title.
And in the end, it reminds us that not every enemy wears the empire's cloth. Sometimes, the danger walks beside you.
Wale's final words — "Don't trust him..." — open the door to a new fracture in the rebel camp.
Can they hold together after this?
Can Moremi ever forgive herself?
Can Adedayo be saved — or is he already lost?
As the fire consumes the sacred grounds, the story marches toward its inevitable storm.