The journey to the ruins of Old Oyo National Park was long and arduous. Zélie hitched rides in the back of cramped market trucks and walked for miles under the scorching sun. The Ogun stone felt like a ballast against the rising chaos she felt around the world. The air tasted metallic, and distant heat lightning flashed in otherwise clear skies—Shango’s restless Ase permeating the atmosphere.
The park itself was wild and untamed, the jungle slowly reclaiming the stone foundations of the ancient Oyo Empire, once a seat of immense Yoruba power. At the center of the ruins, where the palace of the kings once stood, the air crackled with energy.
Shango was easy to locate. He wasn't sulking in a forge or arguing at a crossroads. He was holding court.
He sat on a makeshift throne of fallen masonry, draped in rich red and white cloths. A magnificent double-headed axe emblem was carved into the rock behind him. Offerings of kola nuts, palm wine, and scorched animal flesh were laid before him. He was a presence of pure, volatile charisma and power. He was breathtakingly handsome, yet dangerous, like a live wire.
Before him, a group of local villagers danced and chanted, their faces shining with ecstatic sweat. This wasn't faded worship; this was active, vibrant adoration. Shango was drinking it in, growing stronger with every drumbeat.
When Zélie approached the circle, the music and chanting did not stop. Shango noticed her immediately, his eyes locking onto hers. A slow smile spread across his face.
"A new face for the King!" he boomed, his voice echoing across the ruins, naturally amplified without effort. "Come closer, child of the water. Do you bring offerings to the Thunderer?"
Zélie stopped at the edge of the circle, the eyes of the dancers flickering toward her.
"I bring a message from the council, Lord Shango," Zélie said, projecting her voice to be heard over the drums. "The Veil is breaking. The world needs the Orishas to unite at Ile-Ife."
The drumming stuttered and momentarily stopped. A hush fell over the crowd. Shango’s smile vanished.
"Ile-Ife?" he scoffed, standing up. He moved with the coiled energy of a jaguar ready to spring. "That place is for broken gods who have lost their kingdoms. I am no such god. Look around you, little girl. My people still honor me. My Ase grows stronger every day. The 'Veil Sickness' is merely the weak gods fading away, clearing the path for the strong to rule once more."
"Your wife, Oya, has joined the cause," Zélie said, stepping further into the clearing. "Ogun has agreed to be present."
Mentioning his two greatest rivals was a gamble, and it clearly inflamed him. His handsome face twisted in anger. The sky above them, previously clear, began to darken rapidly.
"Oya chooses the side of weakness, as always!" he roared, thunder rumbling in the distance. "And Ogun? That rust-bucket has no Ase left to give! They are relics. I am the future! I am the fire that cleanses, the thunder that judges!"
He raised his hands, two small, perfectly formed bolts of contained lightning dancing in his palms. Zélie felt the primal fear that came from being near such overwhelming, raw power.
"They have their pride," Zélie said, keeping her voice steady, tapping into the quiet strength of Oshun's patience. "And you have yours, Lord Shango. But your pride will burn the world down with you in it. The point of Ase is balance, not dominance."
Shango approached her, his eyes blazing with fury. "Balance? Balance is a lie told by the weak to restrain the strong. I am King. I do not bow to balance, nor to councils."
He held one lightning bolt toward her, the heat intensifying.
"I am a Scion of Oshun," Zélie declared, standing her ground. She touched the Ogun stone, drawing strength from the iron will of the other god. The golden light of her latent Oshun Ase flared around her briefly, a soft, warm glow pushing back against the aggressive heat of Shango’s lightning.
Shango paused. He saw the golden light, the raw Ase of the river goddess that defied his fire. He saw the Ogun stone—iron and water, a combination that should not exist. His anger was replaced by a flicker of respect for her sheer defiance.
"You have spirit, little Scion," he conceded, lowering his hand. The lightning bolts dissipated into sparks. The sky above began to clear slightly. "Very well. The King of Oyo will grace your little meeting at Ile-Ife. But I warn you: I am coming to take charge, not to negotiate. This world needs a ruler, and that ruler is I."
He turned back to his throne, waving a hand in dismissal. "Go. Tell the others their King is coming."
Zélie bowed her head respectfully, the immediate danger having passed. She turned and walked away from the ruins, the drumming resuming behind her. Shango was coming, but he wasn’t coming to cooperate. He was coming to conquer.
She had secured the most volatile god, but the real challenge—uniting them—had only just begun. Her next stop: the
He snapped his fingers, and a single, sharp bolt of lightning struck a nearby dead tree, setting it instantly ablaze. The villagers gasped in awe, resuming their chanting with renewed vigor.
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