The moon cast a silver sheen over the Lake of Reflections, its waters so still they mirrored the sky perfectly. A silence blanketed the area, broken only by the rhythmic lapping of water against the old stone docks. Ayọ̀kúnlé stood at the water's edge, holding the Fire Relic tightly. Its faint glow danced across the rippling surface, illuminating shadows that had no source.
Behind him, Adérónké, Captain Tùndé, and the rest of their expedition approached with wary steps. None spoke. The legends surrounding the lake were older than even the kingdom itself tales of spirits, trapped memories, and an eternal guardian beneath the waves.
Ayọ̀kúnlé exhaled. "This is where the second relic is hidden: the Relic of Truth."
Tùndé stepped forward. "And we find it how?"
"We descend."
Adérónké frowned. "Into the lake?"
Ayọ̀kúnlé nodded. "The Temple of Reflections is said to lie beneath, accessible only by those willing to face their truest selves."
With a deep breath, Ayọ̀kúnlé walked into the water. It was colder than ice, yet soothing in a strange, soul-deep way. One by one, the others followed. As the water rose past their shoulders, the lake shimmered and then they were gone.
They emerged in a dome of light.
Beneath the lake was a realm untouched by time. Stalactites hung from the crystalline ceiling. Bioluminescent plants glowed softly, lighting the stone path that led to an enormous temple carved entirely from a single reflective gem.
The Temple of Reflections stood silent, its double doors inscribed with ancient script: "Only those unafraid of truth may pass."
As they entered, a pulse of magic swept through them.
Then the illusions began.
Ayọ̀kúnlé blinked and suddenly he stood alone in a grand hall. Before him was not the temple, but his childhood room. A man sat in the corner.
His father.
"You seek to fix what you helped destroy," the vision spoke.
"You are not real," Ayọ̀kúnlé replied.
"No, but I am truth."
The vision stood. "You are not hated because of the curse. You are hated because you are the living reminder of betrayal. You cannot fix what your ancestors destroyed."
"I can try," Ayọ̀kúnlé whispered. "And I will."
The vision faded, leaving behind a doorway bathed in white light. He stepped through and the temple welcomed him.
Adérónké faced a different truth.
In her illusion, she stood before her mother, who wept silently.
"You abandoned your people," her mother said. "For a cursed prince."
Adérónké's eyes brimmed with tears. "I chose to fight for a future worth living. Even if it meant letting go of the past."
Her truth accepted, she too passed.
Tùndé, the brave captain, faced the fear of his own cowardice. He remembered a battle long ago, where he fled instead of defending a village. In the illusion, the villagers' screams echoed until he dropped to his knees.
"I cannot change what I did," he cried. "But I will not run again."
And with that, the temple accepted him.
Each member faced their personal reckoning.
When they regrouped in the central chamber, the Relic of Truth floated above a stone dais. Unlike the Fire Relic, this one was a silver orb, its surface like a perfect mirror.
Ayọ̀kúnlé stepped forward and reached for it.
The instant his fingers touched the relic, a burst of light filled the chamber.
Visions flooded their minds:
A kingdom in flames. The Fire Queen, Rányìn, atop a floating citadel. The last relic buried in a prison of bone.
And one final image: Ayọ̀kúnlé's own face… wearing a crown of darkness.
He staggered back, gasping. The relic pulsed.
"I saw it too," Adérónké said. "You… you were corrupted."
Ayọ̀kúnlé clenched his jaw. "It was a possibility. Not a certainty."
Tùndé looked at him gravely. "We must be careful, Prince. The power we seek could also be our undoing."
Ayọ̀kúnlé nodded. "Which is why we must find the last relic—before she does."
At the edge of the Black Desert, Queen Rányìn's citadel hovered above cracked earth. She stared into a crystal pool, watching Ayọ̀kúnlé hold the Relic of Truth.
"So he has passed the second trial," she murmured.
A voice behind her answered. "Shall we move the prisoners, my queen?"
She turned to her general. "Yes. Let him come. The final relic lies within the Ruins of Ọ̀run, guarded by the last of the Bone Lords. He'll need more than courage to survive."
She waved her hand, and from the shadows, monsters began to rise winged, horned, and hungry for blood.
"The time has come," she said, "to end Odanjo."
Above the lake, the group emerged back into the night. They had changed deeply, invisibly but the world around them remained tense.
Ayọ̀kúnlé looked up at the moon.
"One more relic," he said.
Adérónké took his hand. "And then the war truly begins."
He nodded. "Then let us be ready."