News of Tunde's death spreads like wildfire. In the Ojora Palace, silence hangs heavy. Wale, learning the truth from his informants, clenches his jaw—not out of grief, but cold calculation.
> "This wasn't the plan," he mutters to Adedayo, his voice laced with frustration. "He was reckless, but he had value... now we must move faster."
---
Back in Akinwumi Village, Bayo's actions ignite division. Half the rebel legion hails him as a hero, the other half—led by Yemi—fears what comes next.
> Yemi: "You killed Tunde. But what did you wake in his place?"
The argument burns hot. Tensions rise. Moremi, caught between loyalty and logic, remains silent.
Then, Wale arrives, cutting through the heat with his sharp presence. He confronts Bayo directly.
> Wale: "Revenge might ease the heart, but it's poison to the mission."
> Bayo: "I didn't need permission to kill the one who burned my kingdom."
Chief Alade steps between them, voice firm.
> "Enough. We have no time for cracks in stone. The fire is already lit."
---
Ojora Palace – Nightfall.
Bankode sits in his dark chamber, surrounded by burning incense and cowrie-marked scrolls. He hears the news... and smiles. A slow, ancient smile.
> "So... the gods accept the offering. Now... let the game begin."
Then, the wind shifts.
A mysterious figure in deep crimson robes, hood drawn low, walks to the palace gates. Even the palace guards step back—the stranger's aura is not of this world. The doors open on their own.
The figure speaks only once before Oba Adekunle:
> "I will help you crush the rebellion... but I will not be denied when my price is due."
Bankode's eyes narrow. Something old has awakened.
---
Back at Akinwumi, the village begins preparing for the Òrìṣà Festival — an ancient cultural rite celebrating ancestry, harmony, and seasonal rebirth. Drums echo through the air, hunters dance in painted masks, women sew garments with adire patterns, and storytellers rehearse under palm trees.
The people finally breathe again.
But Yemi does not. He walks the borders restlessly. His instincts coil tighter with every passing hour.
> Yemi (softly): "Ojú orun tó mọ̀, ọ̀run ò mọ̀... What we see by day, the night does not forgive."
> Chief Alade: "Let the people dance, Yemi. We'll face what comes when it comes."
> Yemi (still watching the trees): "It's already here... it's just waiting."