KINGDOM DIVIDED
Segun Iwasanmi@iwasanmisegun212159
16 days ago
Written by :Segun Iwasanmi
Chapter 4: Adedeji’s Descent
The night air in the southern province was thick—so thick it felt like something unseen lurked in its folds, watching, waiting.
At the heart of it all sat Adedeji, eyes fixed on the flickering flames before him. The throne room—once a place of counsel, laughter, and the fragrance of burning incense—now smelled of damp earth and something more bitter. Something unholy.
He had done everything right. Or so he had thought.
When he declared himself ruler over the South, he expected the people to rally behind him, to celebrate him as the true heir. But loyalty, it seemed, was a fragile thing, swayed by fear, whispers, and unseen forces.
For weeks, the people had murmured. They said Olatunde still held the favor of Erelu. That the stolen fragment of the crown meant nothing if Heaven itself did not acknowledge his rule.
He should have ignored them. He should have let their words scatter like dust beneath his sandals.
Instead, he listened.
And then he sought power where true rulers dared not tread.
A low voice rasped from the shadows. “You hesitate.”
Adedeji’s fingers twitched. His jaw clenched. “I do not.”
The figure before him was barely human. Draped in tattered cloth, eyes sunken like a man who had not seen the sun in years, the sorcerer sat cross-legged, rolling strange bones between his fingers. His teeth, jagged and uneven, gleamed in the firelight as he smiled.
“You wish for their loyalty,” the man said, voice as dry as old parchment. “I can give it to you.”
Adedeji swallowed. He had always been a man of logic, of war tactics and measured strength. But this? This was something else.
“What will it cost?” he asked, though part of him did not want the answer.
The sorcerer tilted his head, bones clicking against each other like the chattering of unseen spirits. “What is a crown without blood?”
Adedeji’s fingers tightened around the armrest of his throne. Blood? He had already shed much to claim this seat. How much more did it demand?
The sorcerer’s voice slithered through the room. “Sacrifice your doubt, your hesitation. Let the old ways die, and the power you seek will rise.”
The flames in the fireplace roared higher, turning green. Shadows danced unnaturally against the walls. A chill ran down Adedeji’s spine.
He did not believe in spirits. But at that moment, he felt something—something unseen, something ancient, something watching.
Was this what it took to rule?
He thought of Olatunde, his brother who still clung to faith and mercy, who trusted in a God unseen. But where had that gotten him? A divided kingdom. A people torn between two kings.
Power must be seized.
Adedeji stood, shoulders squared, voice steady. “Do it.”
The sorcerer’s grin widened, revealing blackened gums.
“So it begins.”
---
The first sign was the birds.
They stopped singing.
At first, it was subtle—just a stillness in the mornings where songbirds once filled the air with melody. But soon, the silence became heavy, unnatural. Even the wind seemed afraid to stir the trees.
Then came the dreams.
Adedeji’s court began to whisper of strange visions—shadowy figures standing at the foot of their beds, whispers curling around their ears like unseen fingers. Some woke with scratches on their arms, with no memory of how they got there.
Others never woke at all.
Servants abandoned their posts. Soldiers, once loyal, hesitated before meeting Adedeji’s gaze. He saw it in their eyes—the doubt, the fear.
They sensed it.
Something was wrong.
The sorcerer assured him it was temporary. “Power unsettles the weak,” he said, rolling the bones once more. “Soon, they will bow.”
But the fear did not bow. It grew.
And so did the whispers.
Not just about Adedeji. About Olatunde.
They said he had lost his way. That he hesitated. That he questioned his right to the throne. And if a king doubted himself, why should the people follow?
“Perhaps,” the sorcerer mused one evening, “your brother does not believe he is king at all.”
Adedeji did not answer.
The thought gnawed at him.
Olatunde was a man of faith. But faith wavered. If doubt had crept into his heart, if he hesitated, then Olatunde was already defeated.
And a kingdom without confidence would fall, with or without a sword.
Adedeji’s lips curled.
Let his brother waver. Let his people murmur.
By the time they realized what true power was, it would be too late.
---
To be continued in chapter 5....
MORAL REFLECTION
Power gained through darkness comes at a price. Adedeji believed strength alone could make him king, but true leadership is not built on fear—it is built on truth.
"For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" (Mark 8:36)
Many seek shortcuts to authority, forsaking patience and righteousness. But a throne taken by force will crumble under its own weight.
Adedeji had made his choice.
Now, he would have to live with it.
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