The forest at night was a creature of its own.
It breathed in shadows and exhaled silence.
Each step Ayomide took deeper into the woods felt like walking into another world, one where time curved, and memories whispered from the leaves.
Tayo had refused to follow him beyond the River Shrine. "I don't follow ghosts," he'd said with a nervous laugh. "If you don't return before dawn, I'll tell your mother… but I won't come looking."
Fair.
Ayomide had barely crossed the shallow stream when the air changed.
Colder.
Still.
The trees here were older than stories. Their roots curled above ground like twisted fingers. Vines hung low, some shaped like faces if you looked long enough.
The moon barely touched this part of the forest, as if it, too, feared to watch what happened here.
According to village tales, Baba Ọlọrun, the mad priest, lived where no sane man dared to tread.
He was said to have danced with gods and swallowed lightning. Some claimed he once called fire from his fingertips. Others whispered that he went mad after gazing too long into the eyes of Olódùmarè, the Supreme Being.
But none denied one thing:
He knew things.
Things even the elders dared not speak aloud.
Ayomide finally reached a crooked hut, shaped like a termite mound, with bones hanging from strings around the doorway, human and animal.
The scent of bitter herbs and burning palm oil filled the air.
A voice spoke from within.
"Come in, Prince who died yet lives."
Ayomide froze.
His heart slammed against his ribs. Slowly, he pushed the curtain aside and entered.
The inside was smaller than expected. Cramped. Lit only by the soft blue flames of strange candles placed in a perfect circle on the ground.
In the center sat a man with white dreadlocks wrapped around his neck like a scarf. His face was painted in ash. His eyes, though closed, twitched as though seeing visions behind the lids.
"You brought it," the man said without opening his eyes. "The pendant."
Ayomide swallowed hard. "How do you know who I am?"
The priest smiled.
"Because your story is older than you. Because your name is a song that was once sung by every river in Odanjo. You were born with thunder in your chest… and betrayal in your blood."
Ayomide stepped forward, breath shaking. "Then tell me. who am I really?"
The priest opened his eyes.
They were glowing.
Not from magic.
From memory.
"You are Aremo Ọmọ Arubọ, first son of the Lion-King, rightful heir to the throne of Odanjo. You were betrayed by your brother, killed in your own palace. But death rejected you. A goddess cursed you to forget, to sleep through time until the land was broken enough to need your voice again."
Ayomide stumbled back.
"No… That's not possible…"
The priest rose slowly to his feet.
"You were not born in Iremoje. You were reborn. But your curse is not over."
He raised a gourd and drank. His body shook. Then he spat the liquid into the flames, and the blue fire turned crimson red.
Ayomide stared in horror as images danced in the fire:
A palace in flames.
Villagers kneeling before a new king. Adégún, aged and cruel.
A chained figure thrown into a pit.
A map of Odanjo split into seven warring tribes.
The pendant floating above a river of blood.
"What… What do I do?" Ayomide asked, voice cracking.
The priest's voice dropped into a whisper.
"You have a choice. Remain forgotten, live in peace… or take up your curse and awaken your destiny."
Ayomide shook his head. "I don't want revenge."
"Good," the priest said, stepping closer, "because this isn't about revenge."
He placed a hand on Ayomide's forehead.
"It's about restoration."
Suddenly, the hut trembled.
The flames blew out.
Darkness swallowed them.
From the shadows, a new voice growled, low and ancient:
"He must not rise."
A blast of wind threw Ayomide against the wall.
From the corner, a shadowy creature emerged. its body smoke, its eyes burning red like coal.
The priest reached for a carved staff beside him.
"Run!" he shouted. "Run, heir of thunder! This battle is not for today!"
"But I"
"RUN!"
Ayomide bolted through the curtain as the hut exploded behind him.
Branches whipped his face. Thorns tore at his feet.
He didn't stop until he crossed the river again, this time, falling to his knees, gasping for breath.
The pendant still glowed around his neck.
He looked back.
The forest burned behind him. not with fire, but with a lightless black smoke that danced like souls in torment.
By the time he returned to the village, dawn was creeping into the sky.
Tayo was waiting.
Ayomide collapsed beside him.
"Are you okay?!" Tayo cried. "What happened?!"
Ayomide looked at him, eyes wide.
"I remember everything."
He held up the glowing pendant.
"And I'm not the only one searching for myself now."