The sky suddenly turned dark and gloomy, its heavy, roiling clouds and the soft, sinister whisper of the breeze heralding the coming rain. Yet Kosi remained unmoved. In his heart, what truly mattered had already been lost—his love, his people, and his hometown. As hour turned to day and day to night, he gathered the bodies of his fallen brethren. His sole desire was to bestow upon these men, women, and children an eulogy worthy of the Okoye tradition.
Amid the ruins, Kosi began an ancient ritual that honored every soul lost in battle. With deliberate care, he sliced his own palm, letting his blood drip upon carefully arranged materials destined for the pyre. In that solemn act, he sought to transform the nature of the fire—from a mere destroyer to a force of transformation and life—imbuing it with a sacred power to cleanse and renew.
"Kosi, an Okoye never shows his back to the enemy," he murmured to himself, recalling the ancient creed. His people were the proud descendants of Ajana—the dreaded calamity—and offspring of Mbanaso, the lightning cloud. "You have lived with honor, but you have died through treachery and deceit. May the unquenchable fire that united us, molded us, and warmed our hearts now consume our bodies. One who has lived as a warrior must depart as one."
As rain began to fall and thunder shook the heavens, Kosi sat with his loved ones for their final journey. The air was thick with sorrow and the thick scent of burning incense. Suddenly, the rhythmic pounding of hooves cut through the mournful sounds of the rain. Instantly alert, Kosi gripped his sword, and though his body trembled from fatigue, his senses were as keen as a wild beast's. He rose, prepared once more for the unexpected collision of fate and battle.
"Kosi! Kosi!" The call came, urgent and familiar—a voice filled with both concern and camaraderie. It was Aoundaver, son of Sefa, bringing his troops to a sudden halt. "Have you forgotten me, dear friend? Is your grief so great that you have erased the memory of a brother-in-arms?"
Kosi's eyes, dark with loss and steeled with determination, narrowed as he confronted Aoundaver. "Aoundaver, where were you when my clan was reduced to smithereens? Now you come only at the brink of this endless sorrow?"
Aoundaver's tone softened with regret. "Rest, my friend. I apologize for all you have endured. One-third of my troops have already fallen, thanks to the hardships on our journey. Yet, by the mercy of the gods, I have managed to secure a haven for your kin whom I met on the plains."
Still wary, Kosi straightened his weary posture, his eyes seeking further explanation. "What do you mean?"
Aoundaver continued, his voice laced with both hope and irony, "You heard me right—perhaps you are not the very last of the Okoye." His words were barely audible above the rain, but they sparked a glimmer of possibility within Kosi's hardened heart.
Almost immediately, Aoundaver barked an order to a nearby captain. "Captain Lungo, see to it that our men rest and set up tents. And fetch the twenty Okoyes we encountered on the plains." In the midst of this hurried activity, a young recruit stepped forward. "My prince," the soldier announced, "I am Som. The late Captain Ikenna ordered me to lead our villagers and fellow soldiers to safety during the war. Many have fallen, and I remain among the last of our protectors."
Kosi gave a small nod of approval. "You have done well. Rest now." But Aoundaver wasn't finished. Pulling Kosi aside, he lowered his voice so that the conversation could be private. "May we speak for a moment?"
Kosi's gaze hardened, yet he acknowledged the necessity of their exchange. "I know what you want to ask, but first, do me a favor—provide a safe place for the rest of my kin here in your camp. I'm about to embark on a mission: I will slay Ikenga and the other gods who have forsaken us."
Aoundaver's laughter, harsh and incredulous, broke the tension. "Do you truly intend to attempt the impossible? These beings have attained a union far beyond mortal ken with the supreme principle. And yet, you—a mere prince—aspire to vanquish them all. It's almost laughable."
Flame of anger ignited in Kosi's eyes. "Mock not my resolve, nor the memory of my kith and kin. We have lost everything due to Ikenga's fickle moods, and he will pay with his life. I swear on the name of Okoye that I shall eradicate this world of gods."
Aoundaver laughed even harder, though a hint of unwavering support underscored his mirth. "I will always support you, even if it means you challenge my own ancestral gods and goddesses. I advise you to venture north—across the Luden Deserts and beyond—to seek the Shadowless. He will guide your path."
Gratitude softened Kosi's stern features. "Thank you, brother. May the ancestors be with you."
"And with you," replied Aoundaver warmly. "Tonight, we rest. Tomorrow, as you embark on your journey, I shall take care of your people. But before we part, won't you bid farewell to your kin? After all, you have only just met them."
Kosi nodded solemnly. Aoundaver quickly signaled a soldier to call all the Okoyes together. As they assembled, Kosi addressed them in a clear, resonant voice that carried both farewell and a promise of future reckoning.
"My beloved people, I have little left to say that you do not already know. I leave you in the capable hands of my dear friend here. Remember who you are—sons and daughters of the Okoye. Prosper, and be faithful to the dictates of our clan and the sanctuary where you now reside. If fate allows, I shall meet you again one day. Until then, I promote Soldier Som to the level of governor. Let him act as your interim king, loyal to Commander Aoundaver, until the end."
A rousing cheer swept through the gathered Okoyes, amdist the prevailing gloomy earlier,as they genuflected and struck their chests in unison. "May the dead never die, and may the name Okoye resound forever!"
Som stepped forward, his voice trembling with both reverence and resolve. "My liege, as the last of our clan, we thank you and bless you. Avenge us—as in the days of old, when the Odogwus roamed our lands and their tales were enshrined in our traditions for all eternity. Though our resources are meager, with the common consent of both our living and our ancestors, we now acclaim you the harbinger of revenge—an Odogwu. The future must shine brighter than our shattered past."
The assembled Okoyes echoed the ancient refrain, "An Odogwu is an Odogwu; an Odogwu is mightier than any mere mortal."
As night cloaked the camp, festivities to honor the dead mingled with poignant farewells. Amid the last embraces, Prince Kosi bid his final goodbye to Commander Aoundaver and Governor Som. Under the cover of darkness—and accompanied by the soulful melodies of the flute, the rhythmic beat of the ogene, and the thunderous pulse of the drums—Kosi mounted his horse. With provisions at his side, his sword at his hip, and an unyielding resolve burning in his heart, he rode into the pitch-black night, determined to begin his mission of divine retribution.