The return to Odanjo was not triumphant. It was solemn.
Ayomide led the procession of ember mages through the forest path, the flicker of their flame-lit robes casting ghostly shadows on the trees. Birds did not sing. Even the wind dared not whisper. Something had shifted in the very spirit of the land. The Bone King's curse had not only stolen lives it had stolen joy, peace, and even the feeling of safety.
Adesewa stood waiting at the city's gate when they arrived, her jaw tight with tension, hands clenched behind her back. Her eyes met Ayomide's, flicking quickly to the ember mages behind him each bearing tattoos of old flame runes that pulsed like living magma.
"You made it back," she said, relief creeping past her disciplined tone.
"With allies," Ayomide replied, glancing at the flaming retinue. "Dangerous ones."
"They all are, these days," she said. "We've had another vision."
Ayomide's expression changed. "From who?"
She glanced toward the Reaper who now stood beneath the statue of Odanjo's first king, her cloak of feathers stirring without wind. "She says the Bone King is moving. But not toward the city toward the Valley of Whispers."
"The valley?" Ayomide echoed, his mind racing. "That's where"
"Where the temple sleeps," Adesewa finished. "Where the old gods were sealed during the rebellion."
The Ember Mage beside Ayomide stepped forward. "If he wakes what sleeps in that valley, no fire can stop him."
Ayomide clenched his fists. "Then we'll reach it before he does."
That night, the council convened beneath the great canopy of the moon temple long abandoned but now repurposed for war. Smoke from sacred incense curled above their heads, mingling with maps and strategy pieces spread across the obsidian table.
The Reaper spoke first. "We need three groups. One to protect Odanjo, in case the valley is a feint. One to pursue and intercept the Bone King's caravan. And one to descend into the valley to stop whatever ritual he's begun."
"I'll lead the descent," Ayomide said immediately.
Tayo raised an eyebrow. "You're the king now."
"I'll be no king if I sit while the world burns."
Adesewa placed a hand on his arm, soft but firm. "Then I'll lead the intercept force. If he's marching, he has a front we can cripple."
The Reaper nodded. "I'll remain in Odanjo. I can rally the silent swords the sleepers in the catacombs."
"The what now?" Tayo asked.
"Dead warriors. Slain during the War of the Seven Claws. Their souls still answer the old rites," she said, with a strange glint in her eye.
Ayomide looked at her. "You think they'll rise for us?"
"I think," she said with a wry smile, "they're bored."
The next morning, Ayomide stood before the mouth of the Valley of Whispers. Jagged cliffs formed a crescent wall of stone, and a low hum rose from the depths beyond like the echo of forgotten voices. The ground itself felt wrong soaked in an unseen presence.
He was not alone.
Orunfelu walked beside him, carrying the blessed scrolls of the N'kori. Beside him was Zareen, a half-witch from the northern marshes, her skin marked with protective glyphs and her hair woven with bones of river serpents. She'd joined them only days before, claiming to have seen visions of Ayomide standing on bones, holding fire and blood in each hand.
They descended into the valley.
At first, nothing moved. The silence pressed down like a second sky. Then came the whispers.
They weren't sound not exactly. More like pressure behind the eyes, memories pulled from the past and murmured at the edge of awareness. Ayomide heard his name in his father's voice, then his mother's, then his own mocking, accusing, pleading.
Zareen knelt and slammed a totem into the ground. It pulsed red and the voices retreated like a tide.
"They'll get louder," she warned. "The temple feeds on what you regret."
Ayomide pushed forward.
Hours passed, or perhaps only moments it was hard to track time in a place that existed between breath and shadow. Eventually, they reached the first gate—an archway shaped like a ribcage, bones fused with molten iron. Beyond it lay the Temple of the Forgotten Flame.
The temple pulsed with energy. A dome of stone and dark glass, veins of crimson light moving across it like blood beneath skin. Around it, the Bone King's minions chanted in a circle hooded figures cloaked in ash and smoke, their hands raised to a floating obelisk that dripped black ichor.
"He's opening the seal," Orunfelu whispered.
Ayomide drew his blade. "Then we stop him now."
They charged.
The flame mages struck first—bolts of living fire hurled through the air, crashing into the acolytes with explosive force. Screams echoed, but so did laughter—a deep, rattling sound from within the obelisk. The Bone King was not among them, but his presence was. That much was clear.
From the shadows, creatures emerged half-formed, stitched from animal and man, eyes glowing with the green of grave fire. Zareen summoned a storm of bone spikes, impaling the first wave. Orunfelu unleashed the Scroll of Unbinding, and the ground itself cracked, swallowing three of the abominations.
Ayomide leapt through the smoke and met the high priest of the ritual blade to blade.
The man was old, yet moved like a whisper. His staff clashed against Ayomide's blade, casting sparks of green and orange light. Every strike echoed with whispers.
"You cannot stop what has begun," the priest hissed. "He is not coming. He is already here."
Ayomide disarmed him with a slash and drove his blade through the man's shoulder. "Then I'll greet him with steel."
With a scream, the priest exploded into shadow, taking the obelisk with him. The ritual was incomplete, but not stopped. The damage had been done.
Zareen staggered back, blood on her lips. "Something woke up. Beneath. It's coming."
Ayomide turned to the temple. Cracks spread across its surface. A monstrous hand burst free from the dome too large, too wrong. It had no skin, only bone wrapped in flame, and it clawed at the sky with fury.
"We can't face it here," Orunfelu said.
Ayomide turned, eyes blazing. "We make it follow us."
He lifted the Blade of Burdens, cut his palm, and let the blood fall onto the cracked earth. The temple groaned.
"Come for me," he whispered. "Come see the throne you'll never take."
And the thing did.
The ground shook as the temple collapsed, revealing a skeletal beast with the body of a giant and the face of something not meant for mortal eyes. It roared and began to chase them out of the valley.
As they emerged, Adesewa was already waiting with her strike force, blades ready, archers in position. She saw the beast and her eyes widened.
"What in Odanjo's name?"
"Don't name gods here!" Zareen shouted.
The creature lunged. Fire sprayed from its maw. Ayomide dove aside, and archers loosed a volley. Arrows clattered uselessly against its bone hide.
Ayomide met Adesewa's eyes. "We need a trap."
She pointed to the ridge. "We rigged it with blackpowder earlier. Just didn't expect to use it this soon."
"Good enough," he said. "Lure it."
They led the beast toward the cliff.
Every heartbeat was a countdown. Flames licked their heels, and shadows twisted around them. Tayo appeared from the tree line, throwing two knives at the creature's legs, drawing its attention.
"NOW!" Adesewa shouted.
The detonation shook the valley. The ridge exploded, burying the creature beneath tons of rock. Dust rose like a second sun.
Silence fell.
They waited.
And then, with a final groan, the fire faded.
Ayomide collapsed to his knees, chest heaving. Adesewa caught his shoulder, steadying him.
"You okay?"
"No," he whispered. "But I'm alive."
Orunfelu looked back at the ruins. "We stopped a gate. Not the war."
Ayomide nodded. "Then we keep fighting."
Above them, the sky was black with smoke but for the first time, it felt like it could clear.