Chapter Seven: The Battle of Fury and Retribution

While King Sonni and Queen Nosaze rested with their army, some of King Nehizena's kings and generals—who had brought their ideas—began their journey to wage war against King Sonni and Queen Nosaze. They marched into the kingdoms oppressed by King Nehizena.

The battlefield was a maelstrom of steel and fury. King Sonni and Queen Nosaze stood at the forefront of their armies, unwavering as their forces surged forward. The remnants of Nehizena's oppressive rule crumbled beneath their feet with every swing of their swords. Their warriors, bloodied but relentless, fought not just for victory but for the freedom of the oppressed.

Sonni, ever the tactician, had assembled his elite fighters, each one a deadly weapon in their own right. Beside him, his most trusted axeman, Aliou Diallo, cleaved through the enemy's ranks, his twin axes a blur of destruction. The Great Archer, Mahamadou Keita, had already taken down key targets from afar, his unerring aim punctuating the chaos.

Queen Nosaze, fierce and focused, cut her way through the opposition with an elegance that belied the violence of the clash. Her warriors, loyal and skilled, fought alongside her, their movements coordinated and precise. Each one knew the stakes—they were not just fighting for a victory, but for a new world.

The battle was not just a clash of armies; it was the embodiment of years of suffering under King Nehizena's tyranny. With every enemy that fell, the oppressed peoples of Nehizena's empire took one step closer to freedom.

As Sonni led his charge into the heart of the enemy's formation, his gaze was unyielding. The remaining kings and generals of Nehizena's empire fell one by one, their forces disintegrating under the crushing weight of the united kingdoms. Sonni's sword flashed in the sun, its sharp edge cutting through both armor and resolve.

"No mercy," Sonni muttered, his voice low but filled with cold fury. His men responded in kind, their war cries filling the air.

Queen Nosaze fought beside him, her sword an extension of her will, her heart hardened by the injustices she had witnessed. Every life taken was a reminder of the pain her people had endured. As the bodies piled up around her, she saw not just soldiers falling, but symbols of an empire that had long outlived its time.

Once the last of Nehizena's generals fell, the battlefield fell silent, save for the cries of the wounded and the distant echoes of retreating forces. Sonni turned to his warriors. "Gather the bodies. We send them back to Nehizena, as a message."

Aliou Diallo, ever loyal, nodded. "The bodies will be sent with the heads of those who led this oppression."

The soldiers set to work, dragging the fallen kings and generals onto carts, ensuring that their heads were severed from their bodies. The message would be clear—Neheizena's reign was crumbling, and the people of his empire would never again bow to tyranny.

As the last of the bodies were gathered, Sonni and Nosaze stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the horizon. Their armies had crushed the resistance, but this was not the end.

Nehizena's wrath was already beginning to stir, and the time was nearing for the final confrontation.

In a dark chamber far away, King Nehizena's rage boiled over as he received word of the latest defeat. His soldiers, scattered and broken, had failed him. The heads of his fallen generals and kings would soon be sent back to him, a reminder of his failing empire. His hands clenched into fists.

More of Nehizena's generals continued to bring their strategies to the table, but each suggestion seemed to falter under the pressure of Sonni and Nosaze's unstoppable momentum. The once-proud empire was crumbling, and Nehizena's confidence began to waver.

The room was tense as Nehizena's generals offered their plans, but it was Zoser who stood tall, his voice cutting through the silence with a bold proposal. "We will not only fight with our armies, but we will also unleash our dreadful beasts upon them—lions trained to devour the enemy. They will strike terror into their hearts."

Nehizena's interest piqued at the mention of these ferocious creatures. His eyes narrowed with intrigue, and he leaned forward in his throne. "Go then," he commanded. "Exhibit your plan. If it works, you shall have my full support."

Zoser bowed low, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "It will work, my king."

As the generals dispersed to prepare, the young man Erhahon, disguised as one of his father's personal officers, remained in the chamber, his heart heavy with unease. It was his first time witnessing his father give such deadly orders in the royal court. The cold, ruthless tone of Nehizena's voice unsettled him, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of discomfort.

The night fell over the kingdom as Zoser moved forward with his plan. He led his men and the trained lions into the darkened wilderness, intending to surprise Sonni and Nosaze's forces with the savage beasts. But as dawn broke, the sounds of screams echoed through the night air.

Zoser's plan had failed. Defeated by Sonni and Nosaze, the beasts—driven by their primal hunger, turned on him and his men. The once-feared king was devoured alive by his own lions, his screams lost in the frenzy of teeth and claws.

When the news reached Nehizena, he stood in stunned silence. His plans were slipping away, each failure feeding his growing rage. His once-feared kingdom was being dismantled piece by piece, and even his most trusted generals had begun to crumble under the weight of their defeat.

King Nehizena sat brooding in the silence of his chamber, his mind simmering with frustration. The constant failures of his generals and the futility of their plans gnawed at him. The kings, once loyal and confident in their advice, now only reminded him of his empire's crumbling state. Each new failure only fueled his rage.

"I have had enough," Nehizena muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing with cold determination. "All these fools have failed me. It's time I take matters into my own hands."

He rose from his throne, his figure imposing in the dimly lit room, and called for his most trusted lieutenant. The young man, Erhahon, entered quietly, his expression a mask of uncertainty. Despite his disguise, he could not shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his chest as he witnessed his father's tyrannical rule.

"Erhahon," Nehizena said, his voice cold and deliberate, "I will not wait any longer. I will take the fight to Sonni and Nosaze myself."

Erhahon swallowed, unsure of how to respond. He had heard whispers of his father's legendary brutality, but this was the first time he would witness it firsthand. He could feel the weight of his father's words hanging in the air, heavy with the promise of destruction.

Nehizena turned to face the map laid out on the table before him, his fingers tracing the paths that Sonni and Nosaze had taken. "I will personally lead my forces. No more distractions, no more games. I will show these upstart kings what true power looks like."

Erhahon watched as his father's eyes burned with a dark, unyielding intensity. The man before him was a king consumed by a desire to crush his enemies and retain control over his weakening empire. The young officer felt a pang of discomfort deep in his chest, knowing that this path would lead only to more bloodshed, more death.

"Will you ride with me," Nehizena continued, his voice low.

"Yes, Father," Erhahon replied, bowing his head in fear.

Nehizena nodded, his ego flaring. "Prepare yourself. This battle will decide everything."

Meanwhile, King Sonni and Queen Nosaze, along with their army, sought a place to camp due to the exhaustion from the war. They went to a small tribe named Afunfun, known for trading palm oil, reeds, frankincense, and myrrh, and also for their knowledge of sophisticated news of kingdoms both great and small. However, Afunfun, being a small tribe, was often attacked by bandits. The head chief of the tribe knew this and accepted King Sonni and Queen Nosaze into their land, offering them a place to camp under the agreement that when the bandits came, they would help defend the village.

King Nehizena's Plan and the Encounter with Erhahon

King Nehizena learned that King Sonni and Queen Nosaze were dwelling in Afunfun. To eliminate them, he made an agreement with the bandits who were troubling the tribe. He provided them with arms and weapons, instructing them to attack Afunfun, set their palm oil, frankincense, and myrrh in a way that when he fired his flaming arrows, the oils would ignite and the village would burn. In the chaos, he planned to finish off King Sonni and Queen Nosaze.

As Nehizena prepared to march with his army, he noticed his son, Erhahon, among them. He pointed at him with a commanding voice, "You there." Erhahon, filled with apprehension, walked toward him.

"Return to the palace. You've proven your loyalty," Nehizena said, pulling his son close and whispering in his ear, "Protect your mother and sister."

Erhahon replied, his voice barely a whisper, "Yes, Father."

As Erhahon walked back, watching his father march toward battle, Nehizena's wife stood on the balcony, observing with confusion. She couldn't understand why King Nehizena treated Erhahon, who had disguised himself as Nehizena's personal officer, with such love and care. She had no idea that Erhahon was her son.

The Bandit Attack on Afunfun and the Battle

Early the next morning, Queen Nosaze walked into King Sonni's tent, her unease palpable. "What is the matter?" Sonni asked.

"I've heard that the Afunfun tribe has knowledge of sophisticated news from every kingdom," Nosaze replied. "I wanted to visit their chief. Perhaps he knows something about my brother's disappearance."

Sonni nodded thoughtfully. "I have no objection, but I do not want you to go alone."

"Why don't you come with me?" Nosaze asked.

Sonni shook his head. "I wish I could, but someone needs to stay here in case of trouble. Fatoumata Diarra can accompany you, along with a few skilled soldiers." He stepped closer to her. "I am worried about your safety. If you sense danger, return to camp immediately."

"I will," Nosaze said, slowly rubbing his cheek.

Nosaze, along with Fatoumata Diarra and five soldiers, rode out to meet the chief of Afunfun. As they made their way, some of King Nehizena's spies, positioned on a hill, kept a watchful eye on them.

Meanwhile, a farmer and his son were harvesting their crops when they saw bandits riding through their fields toward the village. Recognizing the danger, the farmer instructed his son to run home while he ran toward the village, shouting, "THE ENEMIES ARE AROUND! SEND FOR HELP!"

The village erupted Into chaos as people scrambled for safety. However, it was too late. The bandits had already surrounded the market, and the Afunfun soldiers were outmatched. One soldier sent two women to alert King Sonni and Queen Nosaze's camp.

The women who were sent to deliver the message arrived in haste, informing King Sonni of the attack. Furious, King Sonni gathered his army, including Nosaze's, and led them toward the village to confront the bandits.

They succeeded in defeating the bandits and capturing them. King Sonni ordered his men to tie the bandits up for questioning.

At dawn, King Sonni sent a trusted villager to inform the chief of Afunfun about the attack on the market.

As Sonni prepared to question the bandits, he noticed something strange. Amadin from Benin approached him. "Your Highness, we've captured the bandits. What should we do with them?"

Sonni furrowed his brow. "Something feels off about this attack. Why would they store the oils in such a way if they only wanted to steal them?"

General Amadin nodded. "We should question the bandits."

"Good idea," Sonni replied, heading toward the bandits. "Who is in charge here?" he demanded.

The bandits remained silent. Ulamen from Benin approached, noticing Sonni's tense demeanor. "Is there a problem, Your Highness?"

Sonni's expression darkened as he fixed his gaze on the captured bandits. "I'm a strategist, and I'm telling you something isn't right."

Then one of the bandits burst into mocking laughter. "You fools, while you're here trying to judge us, death is already marching toward you."

Sonni and his men turned toward the direction the bandit was pointing. A massive dust cloud rose on the horizon, churning ominously. Amadin's eyes widened in alarm.

"Sandstorm," he muttered.

Sonni shook his head, his gaze sharp and searching. "No. Can't you feel the tremors beneath our feet? Something's coming."

The ground quivered faintly, growing stronger with each passing moment. The bustling market fell eerily silent as the villagers froze, their eyes locked on the swirling mass of dust.

Then, without warning, flaming arrows pierced through the storm, their fiery tips slicing through the air. They rained down in fiery arcs, striking the oils stored in the market and igniting an inferno.

Souleymane Konaté, a seasoned warrior in Sonni's army, roared, "FLAMING ARROWS! TAKE COVER!"

But it was too late. The flames spread with terrifying speed, consuming everything in their path. Screams filled the air as chaos erupted.

From within the storm, faint shapes began to emerge—banners, soldiers, and the unmistakable signs of an advancing force. The realization hit like a thunderclap: it was an army, and it was King Nehizena's.

ENEMIES AHEAD! GATHER YOURSELVES TO POSITION!" King Sonni's voice boomed above the chaos, a rallying cry of command and resolve. His soldiers snapped into action, swiftly taking their positions to confront the advancing enemy.

The Battle Clash

Sonni's army braced themselves as the enemy forces broke through the storm, their formation a surging wave of steel and fury. The thunder of hooves grew deafening, mingling with the war cries of Nehizena's soldiers. Horses neighed wildly, their cries piercing through the chaos like a discordant melody.

"SHIELDS UP!" Sonni roared, his voice cutting through the cacophony. His men responded swiftly, raising their shields as a hail of arrows rained down. The sound of metal clashing against wood and armor echoed across the battlefield.

The armies collided like two raging rivers meeting head-on. The clang of swords and the cries of warriors filled the air as chaos engulfed the once-bustling marketplace. Sonni plunged into the fray, his blade flashing as he struck down an advancing soldier.

Amadin fought fiercely by his side, his sword slicing through enemy ranks. "Watch your left!" he shouted, parrying a blow aimed at Sonni's flank.

Souleymane, a mountain of a man, led a group of warriors to hold the line against the cavalry. The ground quaked under the charge of horses, their riders swinging maces and spears with ruthless precision. "Hold the line!" Souleymane bellowed, his voice unyielding as he swung his massive hammer, toppling a rider from his steed.

The market's fiery inferno cast a hellish glow over the battlefield. Smoke billowed into the air, stinging the eyes of the combatants as the clash raged on. Amid the chaos, Sonni's voice rang out again, a beacon of command. "PUSH FORWARD! DON'T LET THEM BREAK THROUGH!"

The warriors of Gao fought with unrelenting determination, meeting every charge with a counterstrike. But Nehizena's forces were relentless, their numbers pressing hard against Sonni's lines.

Horses reared, their riders thrown as spears found their mark. The earth beneath them turned to mud, slick with blood and ash. The din of battle grew louder, drowning out even the roar of the flames.

Sonni cut through an enemy soldier, his eyes scanning the battlefield for a momentary reprieve. There was none. The fight surged on, a brutal dance of survival, as his men held their ground against the tide of Nehizena's army.

The battle showed no signs of waning, a storm of steel and fire that would only end when the tide of fate shifted.

While the battle raged on outside, Queen Nosaze remained unaware, as she strode purposefully to meet the Chief of Afunfun village in the tranquil Hall of Insight.

The Hall of Insight stood as a sanctuary, a haven of reflection and wisdom. Its polished stone floor, smoothed by countless steps over generations, gleamed faintly under the filtered light pouring through tall, arched windows. The air was fragrant with the scent of burning herbs and incense, their soothing aroma blending seamlessly with the rhythmic sound of water trickling from a central fountain. Tapestries of ancient tales adorned the walls, their muted colors whispering the weight of history and tradition. The atmosphere was imbued with calm, a sharp contrast to the turmoil of the world outside.

At the far end of the hall sat the Chief, his demeanor as composed as the hall itself. Draped in simple yet stately robes, he observed the room with an air of quiet authority, his serene face reflecting the peace of the space he presided over. Others sat or meditated nearby, lost in their own thoughts, seeking solace or wisdom.

As Nosaze entered, a sense of calm washed over her, momentarily easing the burdens of war and duty. She approached the Chief, her voice steady but laced with urgency.

"Chief, do you know anything concerning my brother's disappearance?" she asked.

The Chief's reply came in a voice so calm it seemed to merge with the sound of the flowing water.

"What does your heart tell you?"

Nosaze's brow furrowed, and she exhaled deeply before speaking.

"I feel him... in every battle I fight. I see him in my dreams. But my heart, it carries a shadow of doubt."

The Chief regarded her thoughtfully, nodding slowly.

"Take my words, my child. Even if your brother could not break free from the chains of charity placed upon him, the followers of your grandfather might have made it possible for him to flee unnoticed. Your father, Oba Akenzua, would never erase his own lineage. That is why he sent your brother to Meroe. And, if your brother had truly been killed by bandits, trust your father—he would have scorched the earth to avenge him. But he didn't. Your father was the most honest Oba I've ever known."

He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing.

"Yet your brother, being so ungrateful, fled unnoticed, leaving your father in great trauma. And now, here we are."

Nosaze leaned forward, her voice a mix of hope and unease.

"Is there a possibility that King Nehizena is my brother?"

The Chief's eyes narrowed in thought.

"The chances are high, but we cannot conclude. The truth lies buried beneath layers of war and deception."

Nosaze pressed further.

"My brother bore a unique birthmark—one that struck fear in many."

The Chief nodded, his expression grave.

"The problem, my child, is not only in stopping King Nehizena. It lies in whether you can bring an end to your father's lineage for the sake of ending this war."

Nosaze's heart sank as she contemplated the weight of his words. The Chief leaned closer, his tone grave.

"Do not underestimate King Nehizena and his wife. They are not just minor warlords—they are The Warlords."

Nosaze's eyes hardened.

"What about his wife?"

The Chief's voice dropped to a whisper, laden with dread.

"She is the harbinger of death—"

Before he could finish, an arrow sliced through the air, striking him in the collarbone. Blood spattered across the polished stone as the Chief collapsed with a gasp of pain.

Nehizena's soldiers burst into the hall, their weapons glinting under the light. The sanctuary of peace was shattered as chaos erupted, and Nosaze, torn between grief and fury, prepared to face the oncoming storm.

The tranquil hum of the Hall of Insight shattered as Fatoumata Diarra's sharp voice rang out, urgency lacing her every word.

"We were followed! Your Highness, take cover!"

Nosaze barely had time to process the warning before the hall's heavy wooden doors burst open, splintering under the force of Nehizena's army. Arrows rained in from the entrance, striking stone and tapestry alike. Chaos erupted as villagers scrambled to protect the wounded chief and themselves.

The soldiers escorting Nosaze moved instantly, forming a defensive line in front of her. Fatoumata Diarra stood at their center, twin blades drawn and gleaming, her expression as fierce as a lioness guarding her pride.

"They've defiled a sacred space," Fatoumata hissed, her voice a mixture of anger and resolve.

The first wave of attackers charged in, their weapons flashing. Fatoumata led the counterstrike, her twin blades moving like extensions of her own body. She deflected a blow with one sword while slicing through her opponent with the other in a single, fluid motion. Beside her, the five soldiers fought valiantly, but the sheer numbers of Nehizena's men began to overwhelm them.

One soldier let out a cry as a spear pierced his abdomen, blood pooling beneath him as he crumpled to the polished stone floor. Another was struck down moments later, his shield unable to block the force of an axe swing.

"We're losing too many!" Fatoumata shouted, spinning in a deadly arc, her twin blades carving through two attackers in a flurry of strikes.

"Buy us time!" Nosaze ordered, her voice steady despite the chaos.

The remaining two soldiers exchanged grim looks, their resolve clear. One, a grizzled veteran with a scar across his cheek, nodded. "We'll hold them off. Get the chief and yourself out of here, Your Highness."

Before Nosaze could protest, Fatoumata grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the hall's rear exit. "We can't lose you here, my queen. Sonni needs to know what's happening."

As they retreated, Nosaze glanced back to see the two soldiers making their stand. They fought with the desperation of men who knew their lives would end, their swords flashing as they blocked and countered the onslaught. One of them shouted, "Protect the chief! Protect our queen!"

The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the cries of battle as Nosaze and Fatoumata mounted their horses, the wounded chief safely secured behind one of the villagers.

Fatoumata sheathed her twin blades with practiced precision, her expression hard as she turned to Nosaze. "Ride hard!" she urged, her voice barely audible over the clash of steel and the shouts of Nehizena's men.

Nosaze turned her steely gaze forward. The loss of her soldiers burned in her chest, but she knew their sacrifice had bought them precious moments. With a sharp kick, she urged her horse forward, the rhythmic pounding of hooves carrying them away from the Hall of Insight and toward the battlefield where Sonni awaited.

Nosaze and Fatoumata Diarra rode swiftly, the thunderous beats of their horses' hooves echoing in the tense silence that followed their retreat. The air seemed heavier with every passing moment, a harbinger of the chaos awaiting them. When they reached a clearing on higher ground, they pulled their horses to a stop.

Ahead, the scene was harrowing. Flames roared across the market side, casting an eerie glow against the smoke-darkened sky. The distant clash of steel and the anguished cries of battle reached their ears.

Fatoumata Diarra narrowed her eyes at the scene, her grip tightening on the reins. Her voice was calm but carried a chilling seriousness. "We are under attack."

Nosaze stared at the chaos unfolding below, her heart pounding as dread settled deep within her chest. In a low, almost prayerful tone, she murmured, "Sonni… Almighty have mercy."

She turned sharply to the villagers trailing behind them, their faces pale with fear. With a commanding presence that left no room for hesitation, Nosaze said, "Take your chief to safety. It's not safe down there. Go now!"

The villagers exchanged worried glances but obeyed, quickly guiding their wounded chief toward a safer path. Nosaze watched until they were out of sight, then turned her horse back toward the battle, her determination resolute.

"Let's go," she said, her voice firm, though her eyes betrayed the weight of the moment.

Fatoumata Diarra gave a curt nod, her twin blades—crafted as a single weapon that could separate or lock together—secured tightly at her back. With a fluid motion, she unsheathed them, holding the combined weapon with practiced ease.

They urged their horses into a gallop, the thunder of hooves echoing anew as they raced down to the battlefield, the flames and the fray growing larger with every stride.

Nosaze and Fatoumata Diarra pushed their horses to the limit, galloping toward the chaos erupting near the market. The flames licking the sky painted the horizon a fiery red, and the clash of steel and distant war cries grew louder with every passing second.

As they raced, a sudden whistling sound cut through the air—arrows.

"They're following us!" Nosaze called out, glancing over her shoulder. Several of Nehizena's soldiers had broken away from the main battle and were now closing in, their bows drawn as they fired at the two women.

Fatoumata Diarra pulled her horse to a sharp stop, her calm yet resolute voice carrying over the chaos. "Keep going, Your Grace! I'll handle them."

Nosaze hesitated, the concern in her eyes betraying her thoughts.

Fatoumata dismounted, her movements swift and precise. She pulled out her twin blade, connecting the two ends to form a deadly spear. With a calculated throw, she hurled the weapon, the makeshift spear slicing through the air and striking the lead soldier in the chest, dropping him instantly. The weapon clattered to the ground nearby.

Without a moment's hesitation, Fatoumata retrieved the separated blades from the fallen soldier, gripping them tightly as she turned to face the remaining attackers.

"Go!" Fatoumata ordered, her voice firm.

Nosaze gave her a lingering look, then spurred her horse forward, disappearing into the distance as Fatoumata turned her full attention to the soldiers pursuing them.

The remaining attackers closed in, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. Fatoumata crouched low, her muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike.

"Come closer if you dare," she muttered, her voice like ice.

With an explosive burst of speed, she charged toward them. Her twin blades whirled in perfect sync, slicing through the air with deadly precision. The soldiers fired arrows, but she dodged and deflected them with effortless grace, her movements a blur of skill and ferocity.

One after another, they fell, unable to match her relentless assault. Her blades sang through the air, each strike calculated and devastating.

When the last soldier dropped to the ground, Fatoumata stood amidst the fallen, her breathing steady as she glanced toward the path Nosaze had taken. Satisfied that the path was clear, she mounted her horse once more, riding swiftly to rejoin the queen at the battle.

Nosaze urged her horse forward, her focus sharp as she raced toward the battle. The sound of clashing steel and the chaos of war grew louder with every gallop. Arrows and spears rained down around her, the air thick with danger. She dodged as best as she could, her movements instinctive, her mind set on reaching the battlefield.

High above, King Nehizena stood on the hill, wearing his regular mask crafted from intricate beads that gleamed faintly in the sunlight. His piercing gaze locked onto Nosaze as she maneuvered through the chaos below. A calculating smirk crossed his face as he watched her relentless drive toward the heart of the battle.

With deliberate calm, Nehizena removed his royal necklace and tied it to the socket of his spear, the golden emblem a subtle warning of his deadly precision. He raised the weapon, his aim unerring, and hurled it with practiced force toward her.

The spear sliced through the air, its speed almost imperceptible. Nosaze, focused on dodging the chaos around her, didn't see it coming. The weapon grazed her arm, leaving a minor but stinging cut. The pain jolted her grip, and she pulled her horse in the wrong direction—straight into the path of a stray spear planted firmly in the ground.

The impact sent both Nosaze and her horse tumbling. The world spun around her as she hit the ground hard, her body rolling to a stop amid the dust and debris. The sounds of the battlefield became muffled, fading into a distant hum as darkness crept in.

Nosaze lay there, unconscious, as the battlefield raged on around her. Above, Nehizena remained unmoving, his beaded mask hiding all but his piercing eyes, which betrayed neither triumph nor doubt as he observed the aftermath of his calculated strike.

Sonni moved through the chaos, his blade slicing through Nehizena's soldiers with precision and force. The clash of swords and cries of battle filled the air, but his focus remained unbroken. Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he saw Fatoumata Diarra approaching, her horse coming to an abrupt stop.

Without hesitation, she dismounted, drawing her twin blades as she fought her way through the throng of soldiers. Her movements were sharp, deliberate, cutting down anyone who stood between her and Sonni.

When she finally reached him, her breathing was heavy but her determination unwavering. "Fatoumata," Sonni said, his voice laced with urgency, "where is Nosaze?"

Fatoumata hesitated for a moment, the weight of her words evident. "We were attacked," she said, her tone steady but grim. "I stayed behind to buy her time. She was riding toward the battlefield. I had to make sure she got through." Sonni's jaw clenched, his expression darkening. "Oh no," he muttered, his voice calm but tense, a storm brewing beneath his measured tone. His eyes scanned the battlefield, searching desperately for any sign of Nosaze.

Fatoumata added, "She's strong, Sonni. But the enemy—" She stopped herself, knowing that words would do little to ease his growing concern.

Without another word, Sonni turned and began running in the direction Fatoumata had come from, his determination evident in every stride. The battlefield seemed to blur around him, his sole focus on finding Nosaze.

Fatoumata watched him go, her grip tightening on her twin blades. She turned back toward the fight, ready to hold her ground once more, her silent prayer for Nosaze echoing in her heart as she plunged back into the fray.

The Ominous Discovery

Nosaze's eyes fluttered open, the harsh reality of the battlefield rushing back to her. Her body ached, and her arm throbbed where Nehizena's spear had grazed her. She turned her head and saw the spear embedded firmly into the ground, its shaft vibrating faintly as if still carrying the force of the throw.

Her gaze narrowed as something unusual caught her eye—a glint of gold dangling from the spear's socket. Crawling closer, her breath hitched as she realized what it was. A royal necklace of Benin, its coral beads strung together with a golden pendant in the shape of a leopard, symbolizing royal blood.

Her fingers trembled as she untied the necklace, the weight of the leopard pendant pressing into her palm like a silent accusation. Her thoughts raced. "A royal from Benin… here? How? Why?"

She tucked the necklace into her dress, hiding it close to her chest. The pendant's presence unnerved her deeply. It wasn't merely a décorative piece—it was a badge of identity, a proclamation of status that no one outside the royal lineage would dare to possess.

Nosaze's royal garment suddenly felt like an unbearable weight, an anchor pulling her down in this moment of uncertainty. Gritting her teeth, she stripped it off, her simpler underclothes allowing her to move freely and unburdened.

Her eyes swept the surrounding area. Amidst the chaos and destruction, she spotted a rudimentary dwelling in the distance—a skeletal structure of walls and wooden beams standing precariously against the battlefield's violence.

Heart pounding, Nosaze forced herself to her feet, the ache in her body ignored as she began to run toward the dwelling. Each step brought her closer to what she hoped would be answers—or at least shelter from the immediate danger.

The leopard pendant wasn't just a symbol of royalty. It was a stark reminder of the truths she might uncover and the cost they could demand.

The Unveiling of Bloodlines

Nosaze sprinted toward the rudimentary dwelling, her heart pounding in rhythm with her hurried steps. The weight of the royal necklace concealed in her dress pressed against her chest like a warning, urging her forward. But her path was quickly blocked.

From the shadows, a group of Nehizena's soldiers emerged, their blades gleaming ominously in the dim light. Their faces bore grim determination, and one of them, a towering figure, pointed his blade toward her, signaling the others to attack.

Nosaze didn't hesitate. Her sharp eyes darted to a spear thrust firmly into the ground, its shaft still vibrating from an earlier skirmish. She grasped it swiftly, its weight familiar in her hands, and launched herself forward. Her first thrust found its mark, piercing the stomach of the nearest soldier. He gasped and crumpled, the metallic tang of blood filling the air.

The others hesitated, their courage faltering as they witnessed her ferocity. But their fear was short-lived as they roared and charged.

Nosaze spun on her heel, wielding the spear with a dancer's precision. The next attacker swung his sword toward her head, but she ducked, the blade slicing the air above her. Using the shaft of the spear, she swept his legs from under him, sending him crashing to the ground.

Another soldier lunged at her from the side. She shifted her grip on the spear and drove its blunt end into his ribs, the impact forcing the air from his lungs. Yet as she fought, her weapon met its limits.

One of the soldiers, clutching his stomach where she had struck, gritted his teeth and yanked at the embedded spear. With a pained yell, he snapped it in two, leaving Nosaze with only the splintered shaft.

Now armed with only a broken stick, Nosaze's resolve didn't waver. Her instincts sharpened, and she stepped forward, her movements swift and calculated. She swung the stick like a club, catching one soldier across the face, sending him reeling. Another soldier aimed a wild slash at her, but she sidestepped and jabbed the splintered end into his shoulder, forcing him to drop his weapon with a pained grunt.

As the battle wore on, one soldier managed to knock the stick from her hands with a well-timed swing of his blade, sending it clattering across the dirt. Weaponless but undeterred, Nosaze faced the remaining two soldiers.

The first lunged at her, his sword aimed for her chest. Nosaze sidestepped, her movements fluid, and delivered a sharp punch to his throat. He stumbled back, gasping for air, only for her to follow up with a brutal elbow strike to his jaw, sending him crumpling to the ground.

The final soldier hesitated, his confidence shaken as he watched his comrade fall. Nosaze wasted no time. She closed the distance between them, ducking under his wild swing and driving her fist into his ribs. The soldier staggered, but before he could recover, she delivered a powerful uppercut that sent him sprawling.

Breathing heavily, Nosaze stood amidst the fallen soldiers, her hands bloodied and trembling. She turned toward the dwelling and stepped inside. The dim light revealed its skeletal structure, the wooden beams casting long shadows on the dirt floor. She turned to her left, her breath catching in her throat.

There, at the far end of the dwelling, stood a figure shrouded in foreboding presence. Nehizena's bead mask, intricately crafted and fearsome, glinted in the faint light as he stared at her. His tall frame exuded a silent menace, his posture calm yet charged with intent.

Nosaze's blood boiled with defiance as her eyes locked onto him. She tightened her fists, her body tensing as she prepared for the next battle. She knew her fight was far from over.

Nehizena wasted no time. With a guttural roar, he charged at Nosaze, his sword gleaming as it cut through the dim light.

Nosaze's instincts kicked in. She swiftly bent down, grabbing a sword from one of the fallen soldiers. As she rose, Nehizena's blade descended with ferocious force. She barely managed to raise her own weapon in time, their swords clashing with a resounding metallic scream. The impact knocked her off balance, forcing her to stumble back.

"You've got spirit," Nehizena growled, his voice distorted by the beads of his mask. "But it's wasted on a doomed cause."

Nosaze steadied herself, gritting her teeth as she lunged forward, swinging her sword toward Nehizena. He parried her strike effortlessly, their blades colliding again in a furious dance of sparks. Each clash grew heavier, their movements fueled by raw determination.

In one heated moment, their swords locked, each pushing against the other, straining for dominance. Their faces were mere inches apart. Nosaze's eyes, filled with a fiery resolve, stared directly into the shadowed gaze behind Nehizena's mask. For a fleeting second, time seemed to slow.

"What are you hiding behind that mask?" she demanded, her voice strained but defiant.

Nehizena didn't reply. Instead, with a sudden surge of strength, he shoved her back, breaking their deadlock. The force sent Nosaze staggering, and as she faltered, the royal necklace tumbled from her dress, landing between them on the floor with a soft clang.

Nehizena's eyes flicked to the necklace, and his movements shifted, charged with new intent. Nosaze, realizing its importance, lunged for it, but Nehizena was quicker. He stepped forward, slamming his boot down on her outstretched hand.

A scream of pain tore from Nosaze's lips as she tried to wrench her hand free. Nehizena leaned down, gripping her wrist tightly. With one hand, he yanked her to her feet, twisting her arm behind her back in a painful hold.

"I'll take that," he said coldly, prying the necklace from her clenched fingers. Nosaze cried out, her voice raw with both pain and fury.

As he held the necklace up, inspecting the leopard pendant with an unreadable expression, he threw her down with a brutal shove. Nosaze's body tumbled out of the rudimentary dwelling, falling down the makeshift stairs outside. She landed hard on the ground below, coughing as the wind was knocked from her lungs.

Nehizena emerged from the dwelling, his figure towering above her as he descended the stairs. The necklace dangled in his hand, his grip tightening around it. He stopped In front of her, raising his sword high, the blade glinting ominously as he prepared to deliver the final blow.

For a moment, he hesitated. Nosaze's tear-streaked face stared up at him, her features etched with pain and fear. Memories flashed through his mind—fragmented images of their childhood, their mother's gentle smile, and her soft voice telling them stories of their family's honor.

But then, another image intruded: the stern, unforgiving face of their grandfather, a man who had shaped Nehizena into the warlord he had become. The conflict in his heart hardened into resolve.

He gripped his sword tighter and raised it again. "Bloodlines mean nothing on the battlefield," he muttered.

As the blade descended, a sharp whistle pierced the air. In an instant, an arrow struck Nehizena's sword, knocking it from his hand. The weapon clattered to the ground, the sudden impact startling him.

Nehizena turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as he spotted Sonni standing at a distance, his bow still raised. Another arrow was already nocked, the string drawn taut, aimed directly at the warlord.

"Step away from her," Sonni commanded, his voice low and dangerous. His arrival turned the tides of the confrontation, and for the first time, Nehizena's stance wavered.

Sonni advanced steadily, his bow and arrow trained on Nehizena. His steps were deliberate, his gaze unflinching as he closed the distance between them.

"Steady," Nehizena said, his voice dripping with an icy calm that sent chills through the air. Slowly, he raised his hands as though surrendering. But in a sudden, calculated move, his hand flicked, and a concealed switchblade hurtled toward Sonni.

Sonni reacted instinctively, sidestepping just in time to avoid the blade. The moment of distraction was all Nehizena needed. He surged forward with astonishing speed, striking the bow and arrow from Sonni's grip with a precise blow.

Sonni stumbled back, his hand darting to his side to unsheath his sword. The blade gleamed as he brought it up in a defensive stance. With a sharp cry, he lunged forward, his strike aimed at Nehizena's chest.

Their swords clashed In a fierce exchange of power and precision, sparks flying with every strike. Sonni's strength met Nehizena's cunning as the two warriors circled each other, trading blows with an intensity that shook the rudimentary structure around them.

Sonni feinted to the right, then spun left, his blade sweeping low in a calculated arc. The move caught Nehizena off guard, and with a swift upward strike, Sonni disarmed him, sending Nehizena's sword clattering to the ground.

For a moment, victory seemed within reach. Sonni turned his head toward Nosaze, who lay groaning in pain on the ground. Concern flickered in his eyes as he called out, "Nosaze, stay with me!"

But Nehizena seized the opportunity. With a burst of speed, he charged at Sonni, his movements as fluid as they were ruthless. He grappled Sonni, forcing his sword from his grip with a disarmingly swift maneuver. Sonni, in turn, darted his hand forward and tore the beaded mask from Nehizena's face.

The beads scattered across the floor like fallen stars, and for the first time, Nehizena's face was revealed. Sonni stumbled back, his eyes widening In shock. The framework of the rudimentary dwelling buckled under his weight as he fell against it.

"Impossible," Sonni breathed, his voice trembling. His gaze locked onto the unmistakable birthmark on Nehizena's face—a mark he could never forget.

Nehizena turned to Nosaze, who stared at him with fear and disbelief. Her body tensed as he approached, holding up the royal necklace with its leopard pendant.

"Hope you received my message, sister," Nehizena said, his voice cold and cutting.

Nosaze's heart raced, her mind reeling as the implications sank in. "No… it can't be," she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Nehizena's lips as he turned away. The sound of his men's retreating shouts echoed in the air. Mounting his horse, Nehizena gave a sharp whistle, signaling his forces to withdraw.

As the dust settled, Sonni and Nosaze watched helplessly as Nehizena and his men disappeared into the smoke, dragging captive Afunfun tribe members with them. The battlefield fell silent, leaving only the weight of revelation and despair in its wake.