The desert wind roared like a thousand voices crying out from the past. Ochieng stood motionless, his body trembling as the overwhelming surge of power coursed through him. The ruins around him pulsed with an ancient rhythm, each stone whispering forgotten secrets.
The woman before him—the one who remembered him—watched with a mix of sorrow and relief. Her silver robes fluttered, her piercing gaze never leaving his face.
"Do you feel it?" she asked, stepping closer.
Ochieng clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. Feel it? It was as if his very soul had been unlocked. Memories he had never lived raced through his mind—battles fought in a time long forgotten, a kingdom that had once knelt at his feet, and the betrayal that had cast him into oblivion.
"I don't understand…" His voice was hoarse, unfamiliar even to himself.
The woman tilted her head. "Not yet. But you will."
Suddenly, the sands beneath them shifted.
A deep rumble echoed across the ruins.
Ochieng's instincts screamed at him—danger.
From the swirling dunes, figures began to emerge. Warriors clad in black armor, their eyes glowing like embers in the night.
The woman turned her gaze toward them, her face solemn.
"They have come for you, Ochieng."
The warriors moved like shadows, their presence suffocating. Swords gleamed under the crimson sky, their edges shimmering with deadly intent.
A leader stepped forward, his armor engraved with ancient runes. His voice was deep, filled with authority.
"You should not exist."
Ochieng exhaled, his body instinctively shifting into a stance he had never learned—yet it felt natural. A warrior's stance. A king's stance.
The warriors raised their weapons.
The woman whispered, "Prove to them that you were never meant to be forgotten."
And then—they attacked.
Ochieng's body moved on its own. Instinct. Memory. Power.
The first warrior lunged, his blade cutting through the air. Ochieng dodged—too fast—and before he could think, his hand shot forward.
A shockwave of raw energy exploded from his palm, sending the warrior flying into the ruins.
The others hesitated.
"Impossible…" one of them whispered.
Ochieng looked down at his hands, his chest rising and falling. What was this power?
There was no time to think.
The next wave of attackers came. This time, Ochieng didn't hesitate. His body remembered. He twisted, weaving between strikes, his movements flowing like a dance of destruction.
A single step forward—an explosion of force.
A strike—a warrior fell.
A glance—the leader met his gaze.
For the first time, the warriors of the forgotten past knew fear.
The leader snarled. "You are a mistake!" He raised his sword—one inscribed with the same runes as the ruins around them. A blade meant to erase gods.
He swung.
The air split apart.
Ochieng raised his arm to block, but before the blade could strike—
The woman stepped between them.
A blinding light. A shattering sound.
And then—silence.
Ochieng's breath caught as the dust settled.
The woman stood unharmed.
But the leader's sword—was broken.
She turned to Ochieng, her expression unreadable.
"You are not ready for this truth yet, my king."
And then—she touched his forehead.
The world spun.
The ruins, the warriors, the golden desert—all vanished.
Ochieng collapsed into darkness.