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THE CALL OF THUNDER: OLUKOSO'S Legend

Jude_Callister
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Synopsis
This is the tale of two epic brothers Shango Telaoko, the fiery prince, hot-tempered and destined for war. And Ajaka, the calm and patient “peasant king,” whose heart beats for peace. Both sons of Oranyan, the Akin Orun, the warrior father who carved the Oyo throne with sweat and blood. But now the kingdom trembles: Will patience preserve the legacy of Oyo or will anger and pride tear it apart? Will brotherhood hold… or will the thunder of betrayal shatter them? The field trembled under the weight of horses. Shango, eyes burning like fire, rode at the head of his army. Opposite him, Ajaka advanced slowly, his men spread wide like a shield. Dust rose between them, thunder rumbled above. Shango raised his voice across the plain: “Ajaka! Surrender now—you are not a man of war!” Ajaka’s calm voice carried back, steady but firm: “I am not built for war, brother. I know this. But I will not spill the blood of brothers. Our father would not want us to destroy the kingdom he built with sweat!” Shango’s jaw clenched. He leaned forward on his horse, his voice sharp as steel. “I see the Leopard of Ife. He speaks to me he says he wants me on this throne. Surrender, brother!” Ajaka’s horse pawed the earth as he circled Shango. His eyes glimmered. “I see him too, Shango. He wants me on the throne. Tell me, brother why did you save me when Olowu seized Oyo? When I was humiliated and dragged before him, you stormed his land, rescued me, and returned me to our father’s kingdom. You could have killed me then. Why not?” Ajaka’s horse circled closer, his voice carrying over the clash of steel and the restless stamp of hooves. “Brother… my own subjects repaid me with betrayal. Those cowards poisoned you against me—whispered lies, turned your heart bitter, and summoned you from Elempe as though you were an enemy. They dishonored me… their king!” A hush fell. Shango’s generals lowered their gaze, their pride stung by Ajaka’s words. The battlefield trembled not just with the storm above, but with the shame in men’s hearts. Shango’s voice broke like thunder: “Elempe is not my home. This is my home!” Ajaka nodded softly. “And you are always welcome home, brother.” For a heartbeat, silence. Then Shango’s tone softened, almost pleading: “I will bend tradition for you. I will not force you to commit suicide, as custom demands. Your people will not support that. I will give you free passage lands beyond the Niger where you can settle in peace. I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want to.” The brothers drew close, their foreheads resting against each other’s, the air heavy with grief. But Ajaka whispered: “No… I am not leaving. I challenge you in my art.” He pulled away, mounting his horse again. Shango frowned. “I am not a man of music or dance I am a man of war!” Ajaka lifted his hand. His men brought forward a carved wooden box and a bench. The ayo game glimmered in the sun. “Then let us shed no blood, brother,” Ajaka said. “I propose this: if you lose, you ride back to Elempe and never return. But if I lose, I will lead my people away, to wherever Ori guides me.” Shango leapt from his horse, fury blazing. He stormed forward, pushing through Ajaka’s guards as they scrambled to shield their king. “What is this? I am not here to play children’s games with you! You will not dictate the terms of my destiny!” Ajaka’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade: “Are you afraid, brother? Afraid your men will sing that today you had a chance to spare them from killing their brothers but you refused?” The wind howled. The armies watched. Shango’s eyes burned with fire, his breath like smoke. Ajaka stood unshaken, calm as stone. The fate of Oyo balanced on the edge of a game or a war.
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Chapter 1 - Prologue

The history of the world begins with something and shall end with something.

In the beginning, the world stirred with mysteries.

Creatures unknown once walked the earth; their shadows linger still, echoing through the ages. The great beasts, the dinosaurs, came and vanished

some leaving fossils as memory, others leaving nothing but silence.

Then arose humankind.

Some dwelt in caves, some in forests, some in places forgotten by time. Some built cities of stone and fire. Each carried the story of creation within them, shaping the earth with their hands and their dreams.

In the land where beasts once roamed, where forests whispered and the savannah sang of endless summers, a tale was born. A tale of a man who became more than man. A tale that thunder carried across the hills, mountains, and valleys.

This is the tale of Shango

King, warrior, flame-bearer, god of thunder.

The tale of one nearly lost to history, yet eternal in the breath of the earth.

DISCLAIMER

This story is told to honor the past.

It does not condemn any people or race. A writer may cross any land, any time, and any culture to tell a tale that belongs to all humanity.

Tribes and nations mentioned here

whether known or forgotten are remembered with reverence. Some no longer walk the earth, lost through war, slavery, or the errors of ancient hands. Yet in these words, their memory endures.

This work is not only a story, but a remembrance.

For we are but fragrance upon the wind

whispers of history carried forward.