The journey back to the Imperial Palace was executed with silent, urgent efficiency. The team bypassed the official entrances, using the hidden passages only known to the highest Griot and Asona circles. They emerged directly into the Ante-Chamber of the Throne Room, hearing the raised, wooden voices of the Council of Regents inside.
The doors burst open.
The Council members were exactly where they had been left, though their Auras were now heavy with a dark, oily sheen—the residue of Iku amplified by their own passive malice. They were mid-argument, their dialogue clanging with the metallic sound of a plot point being forced into existence.
"The writs are signed!" the Prime Minister declared, flapping a sheaf of glowing scrolls. "The mobilization begins at dawn! Any delay will be treason!"
"Treason is exactly what we shall discuss," Bura Busara announced, stepping into the light. He was followed by Kemau, Mandla, and Libaax, who now carried the undeniable weight of the King of Beasts.
The Council froze. Their expressions shifted from bureaucratic smugness to genuine panic—a flicker of Fear (Green hue) breaking through the Iku sludge.
"Tutor! This is an unauthorized entry!" the Head Elder sputtered, clutching his cheetah cloak. "The Council is in session!"
"The Council is adjourned," Libaax commanded. His voice was no longer a forced roar, but the steady, low resonance of pure authority. He walked directly to the throne, his Orange Aura radiating confidence, and sat down. He didn't just occupy the throne; he claimed the center of the narrative.
The Grand Marshall, encased in his Ijele Masquerade, recovered first. He bellowed, "Negusa Nagast! You have abandoned your duties and consort with known radical elements! The law demands we relieve you of your command!"
Bura stepped forward. "The law demands nothing," he said, his voice quiet but sharp. "Your words, Marshall, are not law. They are Contrivium."
He addressed Mandla. "Mandla, show them the sickness."
The Empathic Bridge closed her eyes. Her Yellow Aura swelled, pushing against the stagnant air. She pointed toward the Council.
"I see no true Anger (Red) or Sadness (Blue) here," Mandla declared. "Only empty vessels, amplified by the Iku that rains from the Dildillaac. Their words are hollow vessels for entropy. The war they push is not their own belief; it is the Kifofirists using their passivity as a microphone!"
The Merchant recoiled, clutching his gold-spun Isiagu top. "Nonsense! We are merely following tradition!"
"Your tradition is a lie," Bura stated, channeling the power of Zamani. "We have seen the original script. The Osu are not exiles; they are the Guardians who maintain the Great Green Wall's integrity, the bulwark against further Iku spread!"
He focused on the Prime Minister. "Your war mandate is a subverted plot point! It is designed to shatter the Dragon Belt's stability, flood Diala land with chaos, and give the Dildillaac all the negative Huenergy it needs to complete the collapse!"
The Council members began to shout over one another, their voices devolving into a frantic, high-pitched din. They were trying to restore the "bad writing" by volume. The Contrivium began to pool, black and viscous, around their feet.
"Shut them down, Judge," Bura commanded.
Kemau Nqobile, the Resonance Judge, stepped forward. His Violet Aura exploded, filling the room. He raised his hands, and instead of a calming hum, he released a focused, shattering sound—a pure tone of Dissonance.
The Violet Note was targeted not at their bodies, but at the frequency of their lies. It was the sound of a perfectly tuned instrument calling out a profoundly flat note.
When the sound struck the Council, the black sludge of Contrivium violently pulled away from them. Their robes shredded, and their wooden, fear-filled faces were momentarily exposed. The Grand Marshall's Ijele Masquerade armor shattered with a high-pitched metallic shriek, revealing a thin, terrified man inside.
The Council of Regents dropped to the floor, gasping, their ability to speak a coordinated lie completely broken. They were reduced to the trembling, flat characters the author had originally written them to be.
Libaax rose from the throne, his Orange Aura radiant with true Makoma.
"The Council of Regents," Libaax declared, his voice echoing with primal, undeniable truth, "is dissolved. Their decrees are void. The war is over."
He pointed to the terrified, broken men. "Their service is no longer required. Kemau, ensure they are held until their Moeas are purged of the Iku they allowed to poison their tongues"
Kemau bowed, the power of the Resonance Judge already moving to create a new, stable order.
Bura looked at Libaax, a deep sense of satisfaction warming him, finally no more hand fisted plots of 'the titular monarch'. They had won the political battle. But the real battle—the narrative battle—had just begun. They had stopped the war, but they had angered the true authors of the plot hole.
"King," Bura said, "we have corrected the timeline, but we have revealed ourselves to the Dildillaac. The Kifofirists will now create a much more dangerous, unpredictable plot twist. We need allies who can fight the unseen."
"The Osu," Libaax said instantly, understanding the revised script. "The Guardians. We must go to them now. We must offer them Ubuntu."