Chapter 7 The Throne's Shadow

The palace of Akun was silent, wrapped in the dark stillness of night. Not the kind of silence that brought peace, but one that carried the weight of loss, secrets, and waiting.

Inside the royal chambers, a single oil lamp burned low, casting flickers of gold on the polished stone floor. Shadows danced against the walls, long and shifting. Queen Akerele sat alone, her back straight, her eyes heavy. Her fingers moved slowly through a strand of white beads she had worn since Kabiyesi's death.

There had been no time for mourning. No time to weep like a widow.

Tomorrow, Kabiyesi Adeyemi Adesoji would be buried. But tonight... tonight was for the truth.

A soft knock sounded.

She looked up. "Enter."

The door opened, and Queen Morounkeji stepped in, holding a small box wrapped in cloth. Her face was tense.

"I found something else," she said.

Queen Akerele gestured for her to sit. Morounkeji placed the box on the table and slowly removed the cloth. Inside was an old royal seal, half-burned. Akerele's eyes narrowed.

"That's not the new seal," she said.

"No. It's the one Kabiyesi used before the Ogboni changed the design," Morounkeji replied. "And it was hidden under a loose floorboard near his bed."

They looked at each other.

"It proves something was changed," Akerele said. "They have erased his will."

Far across the palace, the Ogboni elder Salako stood outside the shrine chamber, speaking quietly with a man in dark robes. The man did not bow or show respect.

"They still believe the quest is about unity," the man said with a thin smile.

Salako nodded. "And they will die in their belief."

The man reached into his robe and handed over a scroll.

"The first kingdom demands it be done. You have eleven days. If they do not begin, the fire will fall."

Salako's face tightened. "It will begin. And none of them will return."

As the man turned to leave, his eyes flashed. "Do not fail. The other kingdoms are watching."

At the back of the palace, under a quiet roof, 1st Prince Adebayo stood alone with 2nd Prince Adeola.

The two had not spoken much since the feast. But tonight was not for pride.

"You believe they will cheat us?" Adeola asked.

Adebayo nodded. "I don't believe it. I know it."

Adeola sighed. "Then why do you still go?"

"Because I must. If I stay, I lose my right. If I go, I still have a chance."

Adeola looked down. "I heard something strange from an old priest today. He said, 'The child who knows not his crown will return it whole.'"

Adebayo frowned. "Prophecy?"

"Or warning."

Inside her room, Princess Adepeju sat near her window. The moonlight touched her hair like silver threads. Her heart was heavy. She held a small wooden pendant that Kabiyesi had given her when she turned ten. It was carved with a lion and dove - the same symbol Adebayo wore on his chest armor.

She whispered, "I miss you, Papa."

A knock came. It was 5th Prince Adeoye.

"You're not sleeping either," he said.

She shook her head. "I can't. What if... what if none of you return?"

He sat beside her. "I don't know. But I'll try. We all will."

She looked at him. "You have to protect Adebayo. Promise me."

"I will," he said.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I feel like something big is about to break."

In the darkness of the palace halls, 4th Prince Adesola moved like a shadow. He carried a small folded note under his tunic. He reached the back wall near the kitchen where an old guard stood.

"Take this to the rider outside the west gate," he whispered. "No one must see."

The guard nodded. Adesola smiled.

Let the others think this quest was about glory.

He would return, not just with treasure - but with power.

Deep in the library, the 3rd Prince Adelabu wandered. He had no interest in titles or fights. But his mind was sharp. His eyes caught strange things.

Behind an old curtain, he discovered a hidden passage. It led to a forgotten storage room filled with scrolls and symbols of old Akun.

One scroll stood out.

It spoke of a time when brothers turned against one another, and the land fell into war. The end line read:

"And from the ashes, only the heart that carried no crown rose as king."

He closed the scroll slowly. "Strange," he muttered. "Very strange."

As the moon reached its highest point, the palace bell rang once.

A quiet signal.

The burial rites would begin at sunrise.

Each prince lay awake, some planning, some praying.

In the cold silence, only one thought remained:

The crown was no longer passed by blood.

It would be won... or lost.