The darkness was endless. A cold abyss that stretched beyond the limits of time and reality. Ochieng felt as if he was floating—his body weightless, his thoughts scattered like whispers in a void.
Then, a voice. Soft. Familiar. Powerful.
"Rise."
A sudden burst of light flooded his vision. Heat surged through his veins like wildfire, forcing his eyes open.
Ochieng gasped as he found himself lying on a massive, ancient throne. It was carved from a dark, ethereal stone, glowing faintly with inscriptions he couldn't read. The air crackled with raw energy.
Before him, the woman stood once more, her silver robes shimmering, her gaze heavy with unspoken truths.
"You are awake," she murmured.
Ochieng pushed himself up, his muscles screaming in protest. His body felt different—stronger, sharper. He was no longer the same man who had wandered the desert ruins. Something had changed.
His mind burned with fragments of forgotten memories. The echoes of battles, the scent of blood, the taste of victory.
"What... happened?" he asked, his voice steady but uncertain.
The woman took a step forward, placing a hand over her chest.
"You are the Forsaken King, Ochieng. The one who was erased from time itself. But the world has not forgotten you—nor have your enemies."
A deep, distant rumbling shook the chamber.
Ochieng turned sharply. Behind the throne, a massive stone gate loomed, its surface pulsing with golden veins. Something lay beyond it. Something ancient.
The woman gestured toward the gate.
"Beyond this door lies your true power. Your birthright. But once you claim it, there is no turning back."
Ochieng's heartbeat quickened. He took a slow step toward the gate, his fingers brushing against its cold, rough surface.
And then—
The ground trembled.
A violent gust of wind roared through the chamber, and the air shifted. A presence descended.
From the shadows, a figure emerged.
Cloaked in a flowing black robe, their face obscured by a silver mask.
"You should not have awakened."
The voice was neither male nor female. It was something else entirely.
Ochieng narrowed his eyes, his fingers clenching into fists.
"And who are you?"
The figure stepped forward. Their aura was suffocating.
"I am the Keeper of the Forsaken. The guardian of the truth you seek. And I cannot allow you to pass."
The woman beside Ochieng tensed.
"He is not ready for this battle," she whispered.
But Ochieng took another step forward. He did not feel fear.
"Then try to stop me."
The air shattered.
In an instant, the Keeper moved, a blur of darkness and silver.
Ochieng barely had time to react—his body moved on instinct.
The first strike sent shockwaves through the chamber. The throne behind them cracked from the sheer force of the impact.
Ochieng twisted, dodging another blow. Too fast. Too powerful.
But something inside him awakened.
A golden light ignited within his chest.
The moment the Keeper lunged again, Ochieng countered—his palm slamming into the masked figure's chest.
A pulse of raw, ancient energy exploded from his touch.
The Keeper was thrown back—crashing into the stone walls with a deafening impact.
Ochieng exhaled, his hands trembling.
The power was his.
The Forsaken King had returned.