By the time the morning sun bathed the village of Iremoje in gold, Ayomide had already changed.
Not just in mind, but in spirit.
The memory of the hut exploding… the glowing eyes in the darkness… the whisper of a creature bound to silence but screaming through shadows it all played like a loop in his head.
Yet beneath the fear, something ancient stirred within him.
Power.
It coiled under his skin like thunder waiting to be called.
"You need to rest," Tayo said, pacing around Ayomide's hut, his voice both anxious and annoyed. "You come back in the middle of the night, barefoot, bleeding, and talking about curses and destiny. That priest must've fed you fermented ogogoro."
Ayomide sat still, his gaze fixed on the pendant in his hand. It no longer glowed, but the weight of it felt heavier. Alive.
"Tayo… I saw things. I saw myself before this life."
Tayo stopped pacing. "Then explain it to me. Start from the beginning. I won't judge."
Ayomide told him everything.
About Baba Ọlọrun.
About the curse.
The betrayal.
The war that shattered Odanjo.
And the creature that hunted him across time.
When he finished, Tayo said nothing.
He sat, crossed his legs, and stared at the floor.
Then he whispered, "I knew you were strange. But not this strange."
Ayomide gave a bitter laugh. "Do you believe me?"
Tayo nodded slowly. "I've seen too many strange things to deny what I saw in your eyes last night. So… what now?"
Ayomide stood. His body ached, but his resolve didn't waver.
"Now, I search for the Seven Marks."
According to the priest's final words whispered before the hut erupted in smoke the Seven Marks of Betrayal were symbols scattered across Odanjo. Each mark held part of the truth. Part of his identity.
Part of his power.
And whoever gathered the seven… would awaken the Crown of Silence.
An ancient relic said to either destroy or restore Odanjo.
The first mark, the priest had said, was hidden in Ilẹkùn-Aiye—a forbidden village where no one was born, and no one ever died.
A ghost town said to exist outside time itself.
Ayomide didn't know if it truly existed.
But the pendant pulsed softly when he whispered the name.
And that was enough.
That Night
Ayomide and Tayo prepared in silence.
They stole dried food from the village stores, packed a gourd of water, and took one of Baba Sunkanmi's old travel cloaks from the rafters. It still smelled of dust and herbs.
Ayomide scribbled a message on a palm leaf for his mother:
I will return when the truth is whole. Forgive me.Ayo.
As they slipped out through the back path beyond the yam fields, Ayomide looked back one last time.
A flicker of doubt crept into his heart.
What if all of this was madness?
What if he truly was just a boy with fever dreams and delusions of kingship?
But then the wind whispered his name not Ayomide…
"Aremo…"
And he walked forward without hesitation.
Two Days Later – The Outskirts of Ilẹkùn-Aiye
The air here tasted different.
Flat.
Stale.
As if the land no longer breathed.
The village ahead looked abandoned, its buildings still intact but covered in dust and strange markings on the walls symbols drawn in black ash.
Tayo clutched his slingshot tighter. "Are we really going in?"
Ayomide nodded. "The first mark is here. I can feel it."
They stepped into the village.
No one greeted them.
No birds sang.
Even their footsteps felt like echoes bouncing off forgotten time.
They wandered until they reached the center, a circular platform carved with old script.
Ayomide knelt and touched the ground.
His pendant glowed.
Suddenly, the script on the platform shimmered, and the stones rearranged themselves.
A voice filled the air—female, cold, distant.
"He returns. The cursed bloodline walks again."
Ayomide stood.
"Who are you?"
The wind shifted.
From the shadows stepped a figure.
A woman.
Tall, cloaked in black and gold, with no face beneath her hood only a swirling mist.
Tayo raised his slingshot. "Who the hell is that?"
"I am Onífààjì, Keeper of the First Mark."
Ayomide stepped forward.
"I seek the Seven Marks of Betrayal. I seek to restore what was broken."
The woman's voice grew sharper.
"Then face the memory of your first fall."
Suddenly, the stones beneath them split open, and Ayomide was pulled into darkness—Tayo screaming his name as he vanished below.
Elsewhere… a Vision of the Past
Ayomide stood in a throne room.
His own throne room.
Banners of red and gold. A crown in his hand.
And across from him—Adégún, his brother.
Younger. Smiling. But his eyes held poison.
"You should not have returned so soon, brother," Adégún said. "The people love you too much. It's... inconvenient."
Ayomide remembered this.
His last day.
He turned to run—but it was too late.
The guards grabbed him.
He shouted. He fought.
But the betrayal had already been signed.
Poisoned wine.
Tied wrists.
And then—the dagger.
Adégún whispering in his ear:
"Sleep, Aremo. I'll be a better king."
Pain.
Then nothing.
When Ayomide woke up, he was back in the circle.
Gasping.
Sweating.
The woman in black extended a scroll.
On it was a glowing symbol an eye pierced by a blade.
"The First Mark is yours. But beware the others will not be so merciful."
She vanished into smoke.
Ayomide clutched the scroll.
And knew what came next.
But in the shadows, a serpent listened.
Far beyond Ilẹkùn-Aiye, a man with skin like coal and eyes like a starless night whispered to his messenger:
"He has found the first. He remembers."
The messenger bowed.
"What shall we do, Master?"
The man smiled.
"Prepare the second gate. And send the Bone Riders. The prince must not live to see the Crown."