For what felt like hours—though it couldn't have been more than minutes—Tor and I had been locked in a relentless battle with Prince Lu.
The Fallen.
A prince, he called himself. But this was no royal performance. This was domination wearing a smirk.
In all that time, we hadn't landed a single hit. Not even a scrape.And I'd fought fallen creatures. I'd bled through war zones. I'd buried comrades beside beasts and still walked away.
But this?
This was something else entirely.
Prince Lu moved like someone who'd fought before time had names. His style was sharp, but… ancient. Every sidestep, every evasion—it all felt like part of some sacred, rehearsed ritual. There was no waste in his movement. No fear. Just elegance woven into violence.
Was this really just a branch of him?
He'd said so casually that this was not his true self. Not even his best. If that was true, then the gods had a cruel sense of humor, and we were the punchline.
Tor and I had thrown everything at him—tactics, misdirection, pure force, divine essence laced in speed and strikes. And still, he danced through it all. Not mocking us. Not taunting. Just existing on a plane we couldn't touch.
And worst of all?
He hadn't even fought back.
He'd simply watched us tire ourselves out. Studied us. Let us exhaust our strength and grow desperate. I began to wonder—was this part of some greater design? Was he trying to drain our divine energy, make us useless before his escape?
Or worse… was he just trying to show us how utterly beneath him we were?
Whatever the reason, it worked.
And then—it changed.
I noticed it in the way he shifted his footing. Subtle, but clear to a trained eye. The moment his posture changed, I tried to signal to Tor. A faint tap to the thigh, a glance—we had practiced fallback formations for emergencies like this.
But it was too late.
He moved first.
Tor was closest.
He barely had time to blink before Prince Lu struck.
A single stomp to the chest.Not a strike of power, but precision.It slammed Tor to the ground, pinned like a parchment under stone. I tried to step in, but Prince Lu's follow-up kept me at bay—just out of range, just long enough for him to rain blows down on Tor.
Then he turned.
My turn.
I brought my dagger up, trying to meet him with a counter. But I saw it in his eyes. That same glass-like crackle—his pupils spidering like shattered obsidian. He stepped through my guard before I could even process what happened.
His palm hit my chest. I flew.
Flat on my back.
As if he were distributing beatings like ceremonial offerings, he shifted back and forth between us, ensuring we each got a fair share of disgrace. Precision strikes. Measured pain. Never too much to kill—just enough to crush.
We were divine warriors.But here, we were nothing but prey.
If we were Madarikans—mortals with no divine energy—we'd be dead already. I was sure of it.
I tried to rise. So did Tor.Every time we got our footing, he sent us back down with ease.It was like trying to stand in a hurricane—no matter how strong your legs were, the storm always won.
Then came the moment that broke me.
He grabbed Tor by the throat. Lifted him like a rag.
"Tor!" I shouted, scrambling.
But it was too late.
He pulled Tor's head down sharply—knee met face with a sound I'll never forget. Then slammed him into the ground.
Once.Lifted again.Twice.
Then he threw him—threw him through the air like a sack of broken weapons—into a nearby building.
I heard the wall crack on impact. Heard the gasp choke out of Tor's lungs.
I moved.
I had to. Couldn't leave him.
With the last bit of my strength, I approached from behind. Silent, low. I reached for my dagger—and ran at full speed, angling to pierce the back of his leg, maybe his spine.
He didn't even turn.
He just felt me coming.
He turned at the last second, closed the distance in a blink, and caught me by the neck.
I didn't even have time to react.
My feet left the ground. Then—bam—I was slammed into the dirt, and I saw stars.
He didn't stop.
His fists landed on my head, one after the other.Each one heavier than the last.Like he was digging into my soul with every strike.
Then—he reached for my own blade.
My own cobra dagger.
He drove it into my chest.
I gasped. Felt it rip through divine cloth and pierce into muscle. My vision wavered.
And then he walked over to Tor, blade still bloodied, and did the same.
We were finished.
Broken.
Driven into the earth like stakes—silent markers of his presence.
And as if proud of the lesson he'd just carved into our bones, he spoke calmly:
"I trust you've learned something valuable this fine evening. I have no desire to take your lives—what use is a tale no one lives to tell? Let this be a reminder: when next you cross paths with a being like me… show respect."
***
I woke up to pain.
My head rang like a beaten drum, my vision swam in and out of focus, and every attempt to move sent sharp stabs through my body. For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was—just the overwhelming weight of pain. Then it came back in pieces.
The fallen.
He'd taken me.
The village.
Major Deji... Tor.
I turned my head slowly, trying to make sense of my surroundings, and that's when I saw it—and wished I hadn't. My breath caught. My heart stopped.
Prince Lu stood over Major Deji… and drove the dagger into his chest without hesitation.
Then, as if it were part of a choreographed routine, he turned and walked toward Tor—expression cold, unchanging—and mirrored the same brutal gesture. Another stab
"No..." I whispered. A tremble gripped my limbs.
I forced myself to my feet despite the screams in my body. My legs barely held, but I stumbled forward.
"Major Deji!" I dropped beside him, ignoring the fallen a few feet away. "Please... stay with me."
His eyes were fluttering, but he was alive. The wound missed anything vital—and thanks to his divine essence, healing had already begun. With a little help, he'd pull through.
Relief passed through me—short-lived.
I turned toward Tor, wanting to check his condition too, but a hand seized me.
"Where do you think you're going?" Prince Lu said, his tone cold and casual.
I froze. That voice… it still terrified me.
"Worry not about them," he added. "They now understand their place. I don't aim to kill anyone tonight. That would ruin the point of this entire lesson." His grip tightened. "I came for you. And with no more pests in our way, we may leave."
He pulled me closer with ease. I struggled, but I was too weak. The fight in my body had long since left.
"No, please..." I gasped. "I can't leave them... I can't."
He didn't even blink. "You have no choice. The King awaits your presence."
That was when I saw it—just past the edge of the village, near the dark thickets. A tear in space itself, warping reality like shattered glass. A tunnel. A portal.
It pulsed with the same energy I remembered from that day with Chuba. The same type of passage he'd urged me to take. Was this what he meant when he said I was "one of them"? Was this who I really was?
A Fallen?
As if sensing my thoughts, Prince Lu leaned in and said, "All your questions will be answered in time. But first—we go."
We were only a few steps from the portal when I heard it—
"Don't take another step with Akenzua."
Major Deji's voice. Fierce. Unyielding. Different.
I turned, shocked. He was standing, barely, a hand pressed to his chest wound, but his eyes were burning with something I hadn't seen before—wrath.
Prince Lu paused, turning slightly. "Hmm? Still barking." He scoffed. "You want another lesson, Major?"
"No!" I shouted, stepping between them. "Please, Major Deji... don't do this. Don't fight him again. It's over. You've done enough."
I fell to my knees. "You gave me a second chance. You gave me a family… even when you knew I was—different. I can never repay you."
But he raised his hand and cut me off.
"Do you remember the promise I made?" he asked. "That day I took you from the Madarikans."
I nodded slowly.
He had told me I'd be safe. That no matter what I carried within me, I wouldn't bear the burden alone.
"I said you were my responsibility," he continued. "And I meant it. I don't care if it's Madarikans or some damn Fallen Prince. I will protect you."
Then he knelt and began drawing sigils into the earth, whispering chants I couldn't recognize. Divine runes sparked under his fingertips.
Prince Lu watched him, brow raised.
"Well, well... what's this? Summoning?" Prince Lu clicked his tongue, amused. "You're a troublesome one, Major Deji Olatunji. Who knew you had that sort of trick left in you?"
He stepped away from me, his grip finally loosening. Whatever Deji was preparing—it unsettled him. I could tell. Not fear, not panic... but caution. Something he had not shown since our encounter. The tunnel still pulsed just a few steps away, a clear escape, but he didn't take me through it.
Maybe he realized taking me now would be more trouble than it was worth.
Or maybe... running simply wasn't in his nature.
"No need to finish that," he said with a lazy smirk. "I'm not exactly in peak condition to face that level of divine power. Not tonight, anyway. Consider yourselves fortunate."
He turned away, slow and deliberate, heading toward the portal.
"But remember this," he said without looking back. "The next time we meet... that little trick won't save you. And you'd be wise to show some respect."
And just like that—he stepped into the tunnel and was gone.
I didn't stand still for long.
I rushed to Major Deji, who was trying to rise on his own. He was clearly in pain, but—stubborn as ever—refused to show it. I placed an arm under his to support him, but he barely leaned on me. Even in his condition, he still held some invisible line of pride.
"Check on Tor," he muttered, breath shallow but steady. "He needs it more."
I hesitated. His voice didn't carry the tone of a suggestion—it was an order.
So I obeyed.
Tor's body was still on the ground, and for a moment, I feared the worst. The stab wound mirrored Deji's, but his breathing was more strained, and the blood had dried around his side with no sign of clotting. I placed a hand to his neck. His pulse was there—sluggish, but stable. Divine healing was taking its time with him, which meant one thing: he was very low on divine energy. This was where Simi's care would've made a difference.
Then something hit me.
Only Deji and Tor had come.
No Simi. No Major Adeshola. No Ajani. No backup from the palace.
Everyone else had stayed behind. Or… never woken up.
A knot began forming in my stomach.
Why?
I pushed the question aside—for now, care came first. With effort, I slung Tor's arm around my shoulder, lifting his weight as gently as I could. He groaned slightly but didn't resist. Deji followed behind, walking with the sort of determination only someone used to pain could manage.
We made it to the guesthouse, and the first thing I noticed nearly made me drop Tor from shock.
Ajani was inside.
Sleeping.
Perfectly still. Peaceful, even. As though none of tonight had ever happened.
My brows furrowed. We had left him at the palace. Yet here he was.
I gently placed Tor on the nearest mat, and left the room to check the others.
Simi, Major Adeshola and Alade were asleep too. Their breathing was calm, relaxed. As if they'd just finished a long day and tucked themselves in.
What… was this?
I returned to the palace to search for answers.
Before all this, the place had been a mess—guards asleep on the floors, the Chief and his children passed out in the dining hall. Like some strange spell had swept through, dragging everyone into unconsciousness.
But now…
The halls were locked.
The silence was sharp, unsettling.
I circled to the familiar window beside the dining room and peered in. The long table was empty. Chairs pushed in. Plates gone. Not a single person lying across the floor or drooling on the table. The Chief and his family… gone.
I moved around the side toward the guard post. Empty. No one lying there. No snores, no armor clanking in sleep. Just silence.
Everything was back to normal.
Too normal.
It was as if the entire palace had simply reset itself. As if the chaos I'd witnessed hours ago had never happened. Maybe the Chief and his children had been returned to their rooms. Maybe the guards had quietly resumed duty and vanished without sound.
Or maybe… they never woke up at all.
I stood there, unmoving, trying to piece it together. The fight. The silence. The way Prince Lu had walked through it all, untouched and unbothered—like the world paused itself just to allow him passage.
Could it have been him?
Did his presence suspend the entire village in a state of sleep?
Not a forced sleep. A woven one. Subtle. Clean. Erasing all trace of the disorder that came with him.
If so… that wasn't just power.
That was control.
I didn't know what scared me more—how effortlessly he had done it, or how easy it was to believe he could.
Back in the guest room, Major Deji had collapsed onto the floor beside Tor. His body gave up before his mind did. His cloak was half-open, his face pale and bruised. But he was breathing.
I sat beside them both, trying to gather my thoughts, but my mind was too cloudy to focus. Too many questions, too few answers. I considered waking someone, telling the others what had happened. But I knew better. Major Deji would decide how much of tonight would become known. Until then, the burden of this knowledge rested between the three of us.
For now, there was nothing left to do.
So I lay down beside the wall, folded my arms behind my head, and closed my eyes.
Rest was a luxury I could not afford, but exhaustion had its own rules.
And tonight, it wasn't asking for permission.