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"My husband, I'm telling you, that woman is a witch! How else can you explain such an ominous symbol?" Ogechi declared, her voice sharp and brimming with conviction. Her eyes flicked around the room, daring anyone to contradict her. She was the youngest and boldest of Chief Ibezi's concubines, and she often took the liberty of speaking first.
Amaka, the second concubine, folded her arms, her voice measured but sceptical. "Ogechi, did you see it yourself?"
"No," Ogechi admitted, her lips tightening. "But Obiangeli did. She saw it with her own eyes."
"And what if she saw wrong?" a gentle voice interjected. It was Belu, Chief Ibezi's wife, always calm but now looking weary. She glanced at Ogechi, her brows furrowing. Ogechi immediately crossed the room to Belu's side, grasping her hands as though the closeness would make her words more convincing.
"Lolo, do you doubt me? This woman is a bad omen for Muna. We cannot let this go."
"Lolo, my husband," Ifeoma, the first concubine, spoke up. She moved to stand beside her husband, her tone more diplomatic but just as insistent. "Ogechi may be rash at times, but she's right about one thing—if there's even the slightest chance this woman could harm Muna, we must look into it."
Chief Ibezi sat on his brass stool, his staff in hand, listening intently but saying nothing yet. He inhaled deeply, the scent of the bitter kola still fresh in his mouth. His brow furrowed as he considered the information swirling around him.
"Has someone sent for Munachi already?" he asked, his voice cutting through the tension in the room.
"Yes, Ogaranya," a servant bowed. "He is on his way."
Chief Ibezi gave a slow nod, his mind clearly turning over what he'd just heard. "Bring me Obiangeli."
The servant disappeared and returned moments later with the young girl, Obiangeli, in tow. She was pretty, her simple wrappers doing little to diminish her beauty. Despite her neat appearance, her face betrayed her nervousness as she approached the chief.
"Ogaranya," she said, bowing low.
"Mmmh," the chief grunted, uninterested in pleasantries. "I was told you saw something last night."
"Yes, Ogaranya," Obiangeli replied, her voice shaky but clear.
"Oya, explain quickly," Ogechi snapped impatiently from her spot, unable to hide her eagerness.
Obiangeli bowed again before kneeling, her voice soft and hesitant. "Ogaranya, my lady sent for me last night because Master Okuchukwu was unwell. He slept in her room, and she asked me to bring more coal to warm him. On my way, I heard a loud scream coming from the young lady's room." That was when Muna walked in.
The room seemed to grow colder as she spoke, all eyes fixed on her.
"I went to check," she continued, her voice trembling slightly, "and when I got there, I found her on the floor, surrounded by a bright light… it was coming from her waist."
Chief Ibezi's eyes narrowed, and everyone in the room leaned in.
"Her waist started glowing," Obiangeli whispered, her eyes wide as if reliving the moment. "And then… and then a symbol appeared. It drew itself on her skin, Ogaranya. It just—manifested."
Ogechi was on her feet now. "A symbol? What symbol?" she demanded.
"A black spiral," Obiangeli stammered, her voice shaking. "It was glowing."
Amaka gasped, covering her mouth in disbelief. Ifeoma glanced at her husband, whose face had darkened considerably.
"Then what happened?" Chief Ibezi asked, his voice dangerously calm.
"I saw Nkiru running into the room," Obiangeli said. "She quickly covered the young lady and looked around. I hid before she could see me. Nkiru stayed in the room all night after that, and this morning, I overheard them talking. The young lady—" She hesitated again, her hands trembling.
"Speak!" Belu urged, her calm demeanor cracking under the pressure of curiosity and fear.
Obiangeli swallowed hard. "The young lady instructed Nkiru not to let anyone know about the symbol."
The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the sound of the chief chewing his bitter kola, his jaw clenched in thought. Then, with a loud thud, he struck his staff on the ground. The sound echoed through the hut.
"Leave us. All of you," Chief Ibezi commanded.
Everyone filed out swiftly, except for Muna, who had entered earlier and knelt before his father. "Father, I greet you," Muna said.
Chief Ibezi placed his hands on Muna's shoulders, blessing him. "Rise, my son."
As Muna stood, his commanding presence filled the hut. He towered over his father, his handsome face unreadable, but his eyes flickered with curiosity and concern as he noticed the tense atmosphere.
"Father," Muna began cautiously, "what is happening? What is this about?"
The chief sighed deeply, motioning for Muna to sit beside him. "Son, I know you are not happy with your marriage to Lotachukwu, and you spend much of your time with Ume due to that. However, there has been some development that you need to know.
Muna's brows furrowed as he listened intently.
Chief Ibezi leaned in, his voice low but serious. "There is an old story—from years ago, told only within the royal family. In the old days, it was said that a strange spiral symbol appeared on the waist of the young Princess. It glowed. Just like Obiangeli described. This happened during the reign of King Ogugua."
Muna's eyes widened in disbelief. "Father, what are you saying? This sounds like a legend."
His father's eyes met his, a flicker of worry behind them. "It is not just a legend, Muna. The same symbol has appeared again—on Lotachukwu."
"But…" Muna's voice faltered as realization dawned on him. "Zimife and Somadina mentioned this tale to me earlier today. But I thought—"
"I wish it were only a tale, my son," Chief Ibezi said. "But it is happening again. And now, cracks are beginning to show. The ninth body was found this morning."
"The ninth?" Muna gasped. "I thought they had found the eighth body."
Chief Ibezi's voice lowered. "The eighth body was found in the Obali stream days ago. We kept it quiet, hoping to find a solution before things escalated. But now, the ninth body has been discovered, and we can no longer afford to wait. The ninth body you thought you found, was actually the eighth one"
Muna's breath quickened. "And what do you propose?"
His father's eyes darkened, a dangerous glint flashing in them. "Lotachukwu has to die, Muna. She is the key to stopping this madness."
Muna's heart raced. His eyes widened in shock as he stared at his father. "Father… no. This can't be the solution."
But deep down, Muna knew his father's mind was already made up.
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"My lady! My lady!" Nkiru's frantic voice pierced through the quiet afternoon. Lota looked up from the delicate butterfly she was crafting out of palm fronds, startled. The urgency in Nkiru's voice sent a jolt through her.
She jumped up and ran to the entrance of her hut, spotting Nkiru sprinting toward her, her eyes wide with panic. In her hand, she clutched a clay pot sloshing with water, the piece of cloth Lota had requested dangling from her fingers.
"What is it, Nkiru?" Lota asked, her own anxiety rising. She braced herself for bad news, heart pounding in her chest. Had something terrible happened?
Nkiru skidded to a stop, gasping for breath, one hand on her chest. "My… my Lady…" she wheezed, bending over, trying to catch her breath.
Lota sighed, already relaxing as she saw no signs of danger around her. The village was calm; there were no fires, no shouting. Seriously, Nkiru always exaggerates. With a shake of her head, she crossed her arms and waited for Nkiru to finish her dramatic entrance.
Nkiru finally straightened up, eyes gleaming with excitement. "My Lady, you won't believe what I heard!" She was practically bouncing now, her excitement spilling over.
Lota rolled her eyes, realizing it was just gossip. "Honestly, Nkiru. I thought something was wrong," she muttered, turning back to her stool and returning to her craft. But Nkiru was undeterred, dropping the pot of water and cloth beside her before rushing to continue her story.
"The young master is back! I heard the servants talking!" Nkiru declared with a wide grin.
Lota's hands froze mid-motion. Her heart stopped for a brief moment, her breath catching. She slowly turned her head to face Nkiru. "Are you sure? Is Muna really home?"
Nkiru nodded vigorously. "Yes, my lady. He's back!"
Lota's chest swelled with a sudden rush of emotions—relief, excitement, and nerves all at once. She hadn't seen her husband since their wedding day, a little more than ten moons ago. He'd left almost immediately after, and she'd been alone ever since. She stood abruptly, nearly knocking over the small table in her haste.
"I have to see him!" she blurted out, moving towards the door.
"My lady, wait!" Nkiru exclaimed, grabbing her arm. "Your clothes!"
Lota stopped in her tracks, looking down at herself, realizing she was still in her simple house wrappers. She couldn't meet her husband looking like this. She hurried back, grabbing a few fine wrappers from the corner, and holding them out to Nkiru.
"Which one?" she asked, a note of urgency in her voice.
Nkiru's eyes sparkled. "The milk-coloured one with the dark brown flower patterns!" She held it up, her hands quick and practised as she helped Lota wrap it snugly around her body. They cinched the fabric to accentuate her waist, then draped a see-through shawl over her shoulders, giving her an ethereal, graceful look.
Lota stared at herself in the brass mirror, her nerves fluttering in her stomach. "I want him to see me… to really see me this time," she whispered to Nkiru.
"And he will," Nkiru assured her, beaming. "You look beautiful, my lady."
Just as Lota was about to step out, a small servant boy, no older than seven, appeared at her doorway. He bowed quickly, his voice high and urgent. "My lady, the young master says he will visit your hut tonight. Please prepare for him."
He scurried off before Lota could even respond. She blinked in surprise, looking back at Nkiru. Her heart leapt at the thought that he would come to her—finally. A shy smile tugged at her lips.
"I need to prepare," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nkiru grinned widely. "I'll help you, my lady. The young master will not believe his eyes."
Lota's excitement bubbled over, but she forced herself to stay composed. "Nkiru, draw a bath for me. We'll use the basin his father bought from the city." She was determined to be perfect tonight.
Nkiru set to work, gathering water, camwood, goat milk, and all the luxurious things they had saved for special occasions. She scrubbed Lota's body carefully, making sure her skin was soft and fragrant. "My lady," Nkiru whispered as she rinsed her off, "the young master has chosen tonight to come to you. Finally, everyone will stop talking."
Lota smiled, her heart fluttering with hope and nervous anticipation. When the bath was done, Nkiru dried her off with gentle hands and applied shea butter to her skin until it glistened under the light of the oil lamps. She helped her into a soft, pinkish-red wrapper adorned with dark blue flower prints, then painted small blue circle uli patterns on either side of her cheeks.
As Nkiru finished arranging the last of her beads, a presence filled the room. Muna walked in, flanked by two male servants. His tall, commanding figure sent a rush of excitement through Lota's veins. She felt her breath hitch as she gazed at him, her husband, finally standing before her.
"My husband," she greeted him softly, lowering her eyes and genuflecting shyly. She felt her cheeks warm under the gentle glow of the oil lamp. Her heart pounded in her chest, waiting for his reaction.
But Muna's face remained unreadable, his eyes scanning the room with a cold, detached air. He motioned to Nkiru without looking at her. "Leave us," he ordered.
Nkiru quickly got to her feet and left the room, but Lota noticed something strange—the two male servants stayed behind. Her joy quickly turned to confusion, her brows knitting together as she stood there, unsure of what to do next.
Before she could speak, Muna's voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Seize her!"
Lota's eyes widened in horror as the two male servants stepped forward and grabbed her. She looked over at her husband
"My husband, what is the meaning of this?" Lota's voice trembled, her heartbeat thudding in her ears, transforming from the longing she had carried for months into pure terror.
Muna's face, once so familiar yet distant, twisted with a look she had never seen before. His eyes darkened, and the coldness in them pierced her deeper than any blade could.
"Lotachukwu," he began, his voice low, heavy with something final, "I'm afraid this is where our fates end. Please—never forgive me, not even in your next life."
Her throat went dry. The words, so stark and emotionless, hung in the air like a curse. Her breath caught, her chest tightening with fear and disbelief.
"My husba...?" Her voice cracked, barely audible as the servants seized her arms. The shock numbed her body, but then she saw it—the resolute, unfeeling look in his eyes. He meant every word. At that moment, reality crashed over her, and she began to struggle, thrashing wildly against the hands that held her down. "Let me go!" she screamed, but they were too strong. Tears streamed down her face, unbidden and unstoppable. His voice dripped with pure disgust, each word like a dagger to her heart. It hurt more than any physical pain she had ever experienced, an agony that seemed to seep into every fibre of her being. Her body felt heavy, her soul fractured, and her heart shattered into pieces too small to mend.
Just then, the door to the hut swung open, and her father-in-law stepped inside, followed by a priestess, her face hidden in shadow, holding a calabash of water and palm fronds.
"Priestess, please begin," her father-in-law ordered, his voice eerily calm.
Lota's eyes darted between them, her mind reeling. Were they really going to do this? To her? She fought harder, her wrists bruising under the servants' grip, but the more she struggled, the more helpless she felt. What had she done to deserve this? Tears filled her eyes as the priestess dipped the palm fronds into the calabash, chanting softly while splashing the water around the room. The droplets felt like icy venom as they hit her skin.
Suddenly, cruel voices began to echo in her head, voices she had never heard before. They sneered and hissed, accusing her of causing the misfortune that had plagued the village. "You are a curse. You brought this upon yourself. Die. Die a miserable death."
"No! Stop it!" Lota cried, her voice weak as she tried to shut out the horrible whispers, but they grew louder, more insistent, clawing at her sanity.
"Why, my husband?" she whispered hoarsely, tears slipping down her face. "Why are you doing this?"
Muna's voice, cold and detached, barely reached her through the fog of her terror. "Lotachukwu… You are a thorn in my flesh. There is nothing—nothing—that would make me love you. I wish you would die already. This is the only way we can be rid of you and this curse."
His words struck her like a physical blow. The pain of betrayal was so sharp, she could barely breathe. Tears streamed down her face, but she could do nothing. Her strength was gone.
The priestess continued her ritual, her voice low and rhythmic, drawing a pentagon symbol on Lota's forehead with clay chalk. Lota's body went limp. She could no longer move, no longer fight. She lay there, helpless, tears still falling silently as the priestess chanted, her voice blending with the dark whispers in Lota's mind.
Suddenly, Muna's voice wavered. "Father... must we do this?" Lota blinked through her tears, her heart fluttering with the smallest spark of hope. Was he changing his mind? "Is there no other way?"
Her father-in-law's voice cut through the air like iron. "My son, now is not the time for weakness. You must stay strong!"
"But what do we say happened to her?" Muna asked, his hands nervously rubbing together. "The village will talk… People will gossip. What if they find out?"
The older man scoffed. "Are you willing to sacrifice the whole village for her? Do you know how many lives we will save by doing this? As for the villagers, we will say her hut caught fire by accident, that she perished as we tried to save her. Remember what is at stake here."
Lota's chest heaved with silent sobs, her body trembling with fear. She glanced toward Muna, desperate for him to look at her, to see her, to help her. But he refused to meet her gaze. Was it guilt? Shame? She couldn't tell.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nkiru dart past the door, her face stricken with shock. Did she go to get help? Lota wondered, clinging to yet again, the faintest hope.
"It is done. You may proceed," the priestess said, her voice like a final judgment. Her father-in-law nodded to the servants, who immediately began pouring oil throughout the hut.
Lota's heart raced. They were going to burn her alive. She prayed desperately, silently begging any deity that might hear her for Nkiru to return with help before it was too late.
The oil splashed across the walls, across her bed, even across her body. She felt the cold slippery wetness against her skin, but she couldn't move, couldn't scream. Her eyes found Muna again as he turned to leave. Panic surged through her.
"Where are you going, my husband? Please, don't leave me''
Her plea came out in a desperate whisper, filled with a sorrow so deep it echoed in the hollow spaces of her chest. Her heart a throbbing, broken mess. She felt herself falling, spiralling into an abyss of despair. Her voice raw and broken. Muna didn't turn back, but she heard his voice fade, leaving her alone in the suffocating darkness. With his footsteps fading, she heard those words
'Never forgive me'
The servants lit a piece of firewood and threw it into the room. The flames caught quickly, consuming everything in sight. Her trinkets, the palm fronds she had been working on—all of it turned to ash. The fire roared, and smoke filled the air, thick and choking.
Just then, through the haze, she heard Nkiru's voice. "My Lady!" It was a cry full of anguish, but before Lota could respond, there was a loud thud, and then—silence. Nkiru had been silenced.
The flames crept closer, the heat unbearable, when a small figure suddenly darted into the room. Through the smoke, she recognized him—Nazam, her brother.
"Little sister!" he cried, tears streaming down his face as he rushed to her side. "Don't worry, big brother is here. It's okay now, shhh…" His voice trembled, but he held her hands tightly, pressing his forehead to hers. "No one will hurt us again. I'll protect you, now and forever… even in our next li—argh!"
The fire spread to him, too, but he didn't let go. Lota could feel the intense heat around them, the flames licking at her skin, but the pain didn't matter anymore. The only thing she could feel was her brother's hands holding hers, never letting go.
The last thing she heard was his scream, a raw, harrowing sound that would echo in her soul forever. And then, the fire consumed them both, turning them into ashes, together in their final moments.
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Kira jolted awake, her breath sharp and uneven as if she'd been running for miles. Her heart pounded against her chest, and she felt disoriented. She blinked, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Koa was beside her, holding her small hands tightly in his, his expression a mix of worry and relief. Her face was wet, and her pillow was soaked with tears she hadn't even realized she'd shed.
"You're finally awake!" Koa's voice trembled with excitement as he pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tightly. "Gosh, Kira, you had me worried sick!"
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her face, but his excitement quickly faded when he saw the distant look in her eyes. Her red, swollen eyes told a story he wasn't sure he could understand, and her lips quivered as if she were holding back a tidal wave of emotion.
"Kira?" he whispered gently, his brows knitting together in concern. But she didn't answer. Instead, she suddenly grabbed him, pulling him into another hug, this one desperate, like she was clinging to him for dear life.
"Nazam…" she murmured, her voice quaking with sorrow that seemed to pour from the very depths of her soul.
Koa froze, caught off guard by the name she whispered. Her grip tightened as if she were afraid he'd slip away, and she buried her face into his shoulder, her body trembling. "Thank you… for keeping your promise and coming back to me," she whispered, her voice barely audible but loaded with so much pain it made his heart ache.
He held her close, letting her cling to him, trying to understand the depth of her sorrow. They stayed like that for minutes that felt like hours, the silence filled only with her quiet sobs and the occasional sniffle. Eventually, Koa gently peeled her away from him, still holding her shoulders as he searched her face.
"Kira…" he began softly, brushing a stray braid from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "You gave me quite a scare. How are you feeling?" His eyes searched hers, filled with worry. He lifted her hands, checking her over as if making sure she was still physically there, but he could see that something far deeper was eating away at her.
Her response was immediate—a sudden flood of tears burst forth, and she began to sob uncontrollably. Koa, panicking slightly, quickly climbed into her bed beside her, pulling her close, wrapping his arms around her and cradling her head. He stroked her hair gently, whispering soothing words.
"Shhh… it's okay, Kira. It was just a nightmare, I promise. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I'll always protect you."
The familiarity of those words—I'll always protect you—struck something deep within Kira. Her whole body shook with the weight of her emotions, and the floodgates opened completely. The sobs wracked her body, and Koa held her tighter, doing his best to console her even though he had no idea what she was truly going through.
For a long while, neither of them spoke. Koa just held her as she cried, his own chest tightening with worry. He hated seeing her like this, and even more, he hated not understanding what was wrong. When her sobs eventually quieted, he let out a long, relieved sigh.
"You have a knack for scaring people," he said softly, rubbing her back in slow, soothing motions. "Do you know you've been sleeping for three days?" He shook his head in disbelief, his voice trying to remain light. "Doctor Onwuka said you were completely drained—physically, mentally, and emotionally. I thought you were going to sleep forever!"
Kira sniffled, barely registering his words, but then he added, "Doctor Owuka almost bit my head off, asking if I knew why you were so exhausted. And when I told him I had no clue, you should've seen him! He's so tiny, and there he was, practically climbing me to scold me. It was like being yelled at by a very shiny bowling ball."
Kira let out a tiny laugh through her tears, the image of the tiny, bald doctor trying to scold Koa suddenly popping into her mind. The absurdity of it managed to crack through her grief, even if just for a moment.
"There you go," Koa smiled, his relief palpable. "I finally got you to laugh. I knew there was some fight left in you."
Kira's smile was brief, fading as quickly as it appeared. She nuzzled into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him tightly. His scent, the warmth of his body—it grounded her, reassured her that this was real. She wasn't stuck in that horrible nightmare anymore. Koa was here, her brother, her protector.
"Koa… I know why I've been having those nightmares." Her voice was barely a whisper, so soft he almost didn't catch it.
He pulled back slightly, looking down at her, his face etched with concern. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice gentle.
She swallowed hard, trying to find the words. "It's Nazam… He's been trying to reach me. I see him in my dreams—every time. He's calling out to me, telling me to come back, telling me he's waiting." Her voice broke, and her grip on Koa tightened.
Koa's heart sank. He didn't know what to say. He hadn't heard that name since they were five and Kira was having those strange dreams, muttering that name, and again, back then in the class, she had uttered this name again. Nazam had been gone for years, ever since they turned Five, she had all of a sudden stopped dreaming of him. Why was he making an appearance now again? "Kira, it was just a dream," he whispered, trying to reassure her. "Nazam… he's not…"
"I know," she interrupted, her voice trembling. "I know what you are going to say. But it felt so real, Koa. Like he was right there. Like he's waiting for me to remember, and I do. I remember it all now"
Koa hugged her tighter, his own emotions swirling inside him. "I don't know what to say, Kira," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "But I'm here. I'll always be here. You're not going anywhere, okay? Not without me."
She nodded weakly against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt. And for a moment, they just held each other, two broken hearts beating together in the quiet of the room.