CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
(When Evil Chose the Weakest Hour)
The evil ruler did not sleep.
He stood at the edge of his obsidian throne, staring into the shifting veil that separated realms, his shadow stretching unnaturally across the cavern floor. The name Ruponeso still burned in his mind like a wound that refused to close.
A saviour.
Born too soon.
Born to end him.
"Time is the only thing I cannot afford," the ruler muttered, his voice echoing through the vast underworld chamber.
He had seen prophecies rise and fall. He had crushed warriors, witches, kings, and gods alike. But this child—this infant born between worlds—was different. His existence alone bent balance, weakened seals, and awakened forces the ruler had buried long ago.
Waiting would be foolish.
Letting the child grow would be suicide.
"If he reaches manhood," the ruler snarled, "my reign ends."
With a sharp gesture, he summoned the shadows. They gathered eagerly, coiling around him like living smoke.
"Prepare the vessels," he commanded. "If I cannot strike the child directly, I will rot the world around him."
The shadows scattered, tearing through the underworld like a plague unleashed.
Across forgotten districts, cursed valleys, abandoned cities, and border realms where the weak-minded dwelled, possession began.
Men and women collapsed where they stood—warriors, healers, merchants, outcasts. Their screams were swallowed as darkness poured into them, hollowing their souls and replacing thought with obedience.
Eyes turned black. Veins darkened. Hearts beat with borrowed hatred.
The evil ruler moved among them unseen, slipping in and out of bodies, planting fragments of himself—his rage, his hunger, his will.
"You will be my army," he whispered through countless mouths.
"You will hunt the child."
"You will kill his protectors."
His plan was simple and merciless.
Ruponeso was powerful—but he was still a baby.
Linah had just given birth—her strength divided.
Mako, though formidable, could not fight an entire world alone.
Fear, chaos, and numbers would do what charms and curses had failed to accomplish.
The ruler smiled slowly.
"Let the underworld bleed itself dry if it must," he said. "As long as the saviour never rises."
Far away, beyond the reach of his corruption, Linah held her son as he slept. Every so often, Ruponeso's brow furrowed, his tiny chest rising unevenly, as though sensing the storm gathering in unseen realms.
Mako watched him closely.
"He feels it," Mako said quietly.
Linah nodded. "So do I."
Neither of them spoke of the war out loud—but destiny had already chosen its hour.
In the human world, uncertainty gnawed at two grieving hearts.
Linah's parents sat silently in the back of an old vehicle as it traveled down a dusty road leading away from the city. Neither spoke. Words had failed them days ago.
Their daughter and son-in-law were gone.
No calls.
No answers.
Only rumours, police reports, and a silence that felt too deliberate to be natural.
At the edge of a forgotten village stood a small, weathered hut surrounded by ancient trees. Charms hung from its doorway. The air itself felt heavy, charged with something unseen.
"This is the place," Linah's mother whispered.
They stepped inside.
The spiritual healer sat waiting, as though she had known they would come. Her hair was silver, her eyes clouded—but when she looked at them, it felt as though she was seeing far beyond flesh.
"You have lost more than people," the healer said before they could speak. "You have lost answers."
Linah's father swallowed hard. "We came to consult the ancestors," he said. "Our children vanished… and the world feels wrong."
The healer closed her eyes, placing her hands on the ground. The charms around the hut began to tremble. A cold wind swept through the room, extinguishing the candlelight.
The ancestors were listening.
"You already know what your daughter is," the healer said calmly. "That is not why you have come."
Linah's mother's voice trembled. "We know who she is. We just don't know if she is still alive."
The healer lowered her gaze, placing her hands upon the earth. The charms around the hut began to sway as a low hum filled the air.
"The ancestors will answer," she said. "But understand this…"
She paused, her voice dropping into a whisper.
"What walks between worlds is never easy to find — and never easy to lose."
The candle flames flickered violently.
And somewhere beyond the reach of human eyes, destiny shifted once more.
END OF CHAPTER FOURTY TWO