The rebel cave stirs with unease. Though their wounds are healing, the fractures in trust and purpose are far from mended.
---
Yemi's POV
He watches Akimule training the younger rebels—ruthless strikes, no hesitation.
"He teaches like we are still in Ojora chains."
Yemi confronts Ayomide later, the two clashing over Akimule's role.
"We cannot lead like tyrants," Yemi says.
"We cannot survive with softness," Ayomide replies.
Neither truly wins. The divide grows wider.
---
Bayo's POV
Alone in a corner of the cave, he runs his fingers over Chief Alade's broken bracelet.
"I charged ahead… and everything burned."
He approaches Adeola that night, eyes heavy.
"I've cost too much, Adeola. I see their stares. I deserve them."
Adeola doesn't scold—he sits beside him.
"Then fight for what remains. Guilt can bury you or build you."
---
Damilola's POV
She wakes from another nightmare—flashes of Durojaiye's grin, the blood, the cage.
She doesn't speak of it, but her silence is louder by the day.
Femi notices.
"You've been strong before," he says gently.
She looks at him, voice barely a whisper:
"But I'm tired of being strong alone."
He stays by her side, unsure of his words… but his presence says enough.
---
Moremi's POV
She approaches Akimule, steady in her grief.
"You knew Wale… before all this. Tell me."
Akimule hesitates, then speaks plainly.
"He was a boy forced to fight. Brave, but always looking for another way."
Moremi clenches her fists.
"He died because someone else took the fight to him. I won't wait like he did."
She begins to train under Akimule's harsh eye—her pain sharpening into purpose.
---
Moremi's POV – Training and Remembrance
The morning mist hangs low in the forest clearing behind the cave.
Moremi stands barefoot on the hardened soil, facing Akimule. Her grip tightens around the wooden blade he gave her. She's not here for ceremony—she's here to become something sharper.
Akimule circles her, silent.
> "Your stance is weak," he says. "You hold the sword like you're waiting for someone to save you."
Moremi scowls. "I don't wait. Not anymore."
He strikes without warning.
Wood meets wood. Her arms tremble under the force. She barely deflects, stepping back, heart racing.
> "Good," Akimule growls. "Now strike me."
She lunges. He counters with ease, twisting her wrist, sending the sword flying. She stumbles, hits the ground. Dirt clings to her skin, but her eyes burn—not from pain, but from something deeper.
> "Get up," Akimule commands. "Or stay down like your brother did."
She freezes.
Wale.
The name alone is a blade through her chest. His laughter, his quiet strength, the way he shielded her as a child—those memories flash like fireflies in darkness.
She rises. Her voice shakes.
> "Don't speak of him like that."
Akimule doesn't flinch. "Then fight like he couldn't."
She charges again—stronger, faster. Their blades clash. Akimule nods as her footwork improves, her strikes more deliberate.
Each swing is a scream she's never let out. Each block a memory she's refusing to let die.
> "He believed in mercy," she says through gritted teeth, sweat dripping. "But mercy didn't save him."
> Akimule replies, low and cold: "Then do not make his mistake. Become something they will fear."
They continue until dusk bleeds into the sky.
Later, she sits alone by the fire, staring at the scar on her wrist from one of Akimule's parries. She touches it gently.
> "I will not mourn you forever, Wale," she whispers. "I will avenge you."
The flames crackle, and for a moment, she sees her brother's face in them—smiling, proud.
--.
---
Elsewhere: Ojora Palace
Adekunle paces like a wounded beast.
"The rebellion grows. You said you had a solution, Bankode."
Bankode kneels in his shadow, hands stained with dark ink.
"It is done. I've called upon the deep forest, the old chaos. It will obey only fear."
A clawed shadow crawls from the ritual circle—formless, hungry, ancient.
Bankode smiles.
"They will feel it in their dreams… before it rips them from the earth."
---
Morenike's Vision
In the dead of night, Morenike gasps and collapses. Her eyes glow briefly as fire dances around her form.
She sees a claw tearing through a rebel's chest. Screams. Darkness. A flaming sky.
She wakes, breathing hard.
"A beast has risen. Not of man… not of god. And it is coming."
---
Closing Note