The valley trembled beneath the weight of the Shadow King's arrival. Thunder growled as the sky cracked open, revealing tendrils of shadow that clawed their way into the mortal realm. Darkness swept over the Cradle of Spirits, swallowing the last hues of day. Each breath was like inhaling ash.
Ayọ̀kúnlé tightened his grip on the Fifth Relic. The circlet pulsed against his palm, reacting to the presence of its nemesis. His heart pounded, but he refused to let fear rule him now.
"They came quicker than expected," Adérónké said, her voice calm, though her eyes burned with urgency.
"They've been watching," Móyèṣọlá said. "The Cradle is not just a place of power it's a beacon. The moment the Fifth Relic awakened, it called to both light and shadow."
Tùndé raised his spear. "Then let's answer them."
The four of them moved to the valley's center, where a stone platform had begun to rise from the earth. Etched with ancient sigils and bloodlines, it shimmered in the pale glow of the relics Ayọ̀kúnlé now carried.
As the Shadow King descended, the earth groaned. Black creatures emerged from the surrounding forest wraiths, twisted beasts, and fallen warriors resurrected from dark memories.
Ayọ̀kúnlé stepped onto the platform. "Let them come."
A blast of dark energy struck the earth near them, throwing up a wall of soil and flame. The Shadow King's voice echoed through the valley. "You cannot stop what is written, cursed child. You are the herald of your people's ruin."
"No," Ayọ̀kúnlé shouted back. "I am their rebirth."
The relics ignited fire, wind, earth, water, and now spirit. A whirlwind of elemental energy encircled him. One by one, his companions took their places at the platform's corners, adding their own strength.
Adérónké summoned a storm of blades from the wind.
Tùndé carved a path of fire through the advancing beasts.
Móyèṣọlá's chants wove a barrier of memory, holding the shadows at bay.
The first wave hit. Wraiths swarmed, but Ayọ̀kúnlé's sword sang with the voices of his ancestors. Every strike banished darkness. Adérónké danced among enemies, blades finding hearts of void. Tùndé roared with fury, his spear impaling specters before they touched the platform.
Still, they were many. For every creature they felled, more surged forward.
Ayọ̀kúnlé raised the Fifth Relic. Light burst from the circlet, bathing the valley. Time slowed. Every soul felt a moment of clarity as though the relic touched the truth of who they were.
Then they came.
From the skies, mountain passes, and seas they came.
Warriors of forgotten kingdoms, emissaries of old alliances, riding beasts of legend, bearing banners long thought lost. The alliance had heard his call.
The Shadow King recoiled. "No!"
"Yes," Ayọ̀kúnlé said, stepping off the platform. "Odanjo is not alone."
He surged forward, leading the charge. Behind him, an army born of unity and legacy followed.
The battle began.
The field became a storm of steel, flame, magic, and thunder. Ayọ̀kúnlé's blade cleaved through shadow. Adérónké became a tempest. Tùndé and Móyèṣọlá stood like twin mountains, unmovable and fierce.
Above, the Shadow King descended, his chariot disintegrating into black wings. He landed with a crash that split the earth.
Ayọ̀kúnlé met him. Their weapons clashed light against void.
"You think power makes you worthy?" the Shadow King snarled.
"No," Ayọ̀kúnlé said. "But sacrifice does."
The battle raged around them, but the world narrowed to their duel. Every strike was a chorus of wills. The Fifth Relic flared in Ayọ̀kúnlé's hand. At last, he drove his blade deep into the Shadow King's chest.
The sky lit with silver fire.
Darkness screamed and began to break.