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Anusiem’s Daughter, Haywards Heath (2025)

02/08/2025

THE BRIDE OF SEVEN SHADOWS

EPISODE 13
by: Anusiem's Daughter

“The land of lost dreams is a place where hope no longer breathes. It's a silent realm, where wandering spirits drift — bound by regrets or unfinished longings. These are the souls caught between two worlds, forever suspended in that mysterious middle ground. Anyone who finds themselves there may never return.”

“Like being trapped in the middle of nowhere?”
Mbali Ekombi’s voice trembled with unease. Doubt clung to his every word.

“Something like that,” came the quiet response.

“What do we do now?”

There was no clear answer. They were only a dozen steps away from something unknown — a choice, perhaps — and they couldn't afford to wait. No guide was coming. No hand would point the way.

As they took six hesitant steps forward, their eyes caught sight of a deer — trapped in a hunter’s snare.

“I’m hungry… but luck may be on our side. That’s meat to roast,” Mbali whispered.

The deer’s right front leg was tightly clutched by the iron grip of the trap. Kembi Ntam gazed at it thoughtfully and said,
“I think the right front leg is a sign…”

“Are you sure it’s not a bad omen?” Mbali asked.

“No. In many traditions, the right front leg means moving forward... taking the correct path.”

“So, the narrow right path?”

“Yes. It might be.”

But just as he was about to step forward, a voice stirred deep within his spirit:

"Never take from a trap that’s not yours. If you won’t save the creature, leave it. Don’t steal another man’s prey. But if you do release the animal, it will carry the memory of your kindness for the rest of its life. If you ignore its suffering, it will carry the pain — and so will you."

Kembi stood still, shaken.

“You think… we should let it go?” Mbali asked.

“Yes,” he said finally, and gently loosened the trap.

The deer limped away, its right front leg injured, but it turned away from the narrow right path and instead took the wider, darker left.

That moment lit something inside Kembi.
“If the deer’s right leg is injured and it chose the left path… maybe the message is that the ‘right’ path, though seemingly correct, may bring ruin. But the left… perhaps it’s the unexpected way — the wiser way.”

The deer had been more than just an animal. It was a test — a spirit in disguise — watching their hearts.

By choosing mercy, they had chosen correctly. They followed the path the deer had taken, stepping into the dark. But only a few meters in, the darkness gave way to glowing light.
They had found it.
The true path — the one that led to the Mountains of Hope.

Their kindness had saved them again.
One good turn had deserved another.

Had they acted selfishly, the weight of that choice would have pulled on their souls. Evil spirits, watching from beyond, would have found cause to accuse them before the Supreme Judge. And had their accusation been true, the spirits would have acted — not with mercy.

They were now walking the final path — the path of judgment — the road governed by the spirit called Tômbé.

Every word spoken from that point had to be backed by truth. Promises broken in the land of the living or the land of the dead could trap them here. Even silent thoughts whispered in the corners of the heart could be heard by Tômbé. Pure intentions, though flawed in ex*****on, would be forgiven. But evil hidden behind smooth words would be judged — and punished.

Here, no lie could hide behind the lips.
The final path was about the heart.
The soul was the mirror.

If they had hurt others — in this life or the one before — they would be surrounded by the spirits of those they had wronged. The circle would close around them, and if the circle became too tight from the number of grievances, they would not be able to escape.

But tears — not from guilt alone, but from true understanding — could open the way. Denial would only send them back to the beginning.

So they walked without resistance.
They did not cling to their past.
Their past no longer had chains on them.

They moved forward, their spirits lighter. Because whatever they had done, they had tried to set it right. And that freed them.

Now, they had passed the final path. They stood before the door of the Mountain of Hope — a sacred place said to show the shortest path back home.

But the journey was not over.

The last trial awaited them.

They had faced spirits of fear, regret, confusion, and sorrow — but not the Overseer.

Zungul, guardian of the Mountain of Hope and the final gatekeeper, was yet to appear.

To be continued...

01/08/2025

THE BRIDE OF SEVEN SHADOWS

EPISODE 12 – "Voices in the Fire"
by: Anusiem's Daughter

They had only just awoken and resumed their journey when an overwhelming sleepiness swept over them. Each step felt heavier. Their heads drooped, eyes blinked slowly. The forest air seemed drugged with dreams.

Mbali Ekombi’s body began to tilt toward Kembi Ntam, her lashes trembling with sleep. He quickly caught her hand.

“Don’t sleep,” he whispered, his voice firm yet gentle. “If you fall asleep here, you’ll wake up a week later, far away in a strange land. And you might never find your way back.”

In this part of the forest, no one was allowed to sleep unless it was night. Anyone who did would enter a dream so vivid, so real, that it carried their body along with their spirit for six long days. Though it felt like a vision, the dream was real. People wandered far from their path and never returned the same.

Kembi Ntam fought hard to stay awake, shaking his limbs and breathing deeply. He helped Mbali Ekombi stay alert too. Together, they resisted the cursed drowsiness that drifted like a fog beneath the trees.

They were now in the domain of Senga – the Spirit of Death, a silent and ancient force that guarded the passage between the world of the living and the spirit realm. Senga loved stillness—the quiet of graveyards. So they walked on, careful not to speak loudly or rustle too many leaves.

Their feet crunched over decaying bones and dried animal skins. The air was thick with the stench of death, and faint whispers floated past their ears—ghostly echoes from those who had died in this forest. Only those with strong hearts could cross the path of Senga without flinching. They bore the scent without covering their noses, a silent show of courage.

Suddenly, a group of small, spirit-children appeared before them, thin and pale, eyes wide with hunger.

“Please… we are hungry,” they whispered in unison.

Though Kembi and Mbali had very little, they shared what they could. As soon as the food touched the children’s hands, they vanished. And with them, a cold presence lifted—leaving the travelers blessed and unharmed.

Soon, another force stirred. Mbima – the Spirit of Beasts, guardian of courage, began to test them. This spirit could appear as a leopard, a boar, or a serpent, lurking unseen, watching.

A leopard stepped out of the shadows, growling low. Mbali flinched, but Kembi gently shook his head. “Do not move unless it moves first.”

The leopard paced around them, then turned and disappeared. A great python slithered close, hissing as it passed. They remained calm. The test was clear—to fear not the beast but to respect it. Their composure earned them safe passage.

Then came a new challenge. A colorful forest parrot appeared, calling their names in familiar voices—voices of loved ones from the village, warm and inviting.

“Mbali... Kembi... come home.”

It was Mbima’s trick, meant to lure them off their path. But they kept walking. They held each other’s hands tightly and listened to their hearts, not the echoing voices.

Later that night, exhausted, they slept beneath a giant fig tree. But Mbima had one more trial. While they slept, biting ants crept over their bodies in waves. The pain was sharp and maddening, but they did not curse the forest or cry out. They endured in silence, and when they awoke, the ants were gone.

They rose and continued. Then, they met a hunter, cloaked in animal skin. His eyes held a flicker of something otherworldly.

“Hello, friends,” he said gently. “I am lost. May I walk with you?”

“We are strangers here too,” Kembi Ntam replied. “But where are you going?”

“I seek the Mountain of Hope.”

Kembi hesitated. He wondered if the man was a spirit testing them. Should he lie or speak the truth?

But something in him chose honesty. “Yes, that’s our destination too. Come with us.”

The hunter joined them. Though quiet, his presence felt protective. When they reached a fork in the path, with two diverging trails, Kembi hesitated again.

“Thank you,” the hunter said. “For letting me walk with you. Now I shall return the favor. Follow this path—it leads to your journey’s truth.”

Then, without another word, he walked away. Trusting him, they followed the path he pointed to.

Soon, smoke rose ahead. Flames danced through a bush path, and voices screamed from within—children crying, mothers pleading.

The stranger dashed into the fire.

“Help me!” he cried as the flames swallowed him whole.

Kembi held Mbali back. “It’s not real. It’s a test.”

It was an illusion—a mirage leading to the spirit world. They turned away and continued, hearts racing.

On their path lay the scattered bones of others who hadn’t survived the journey. Silence returned, and with it came another test. They came to three paths: one wide, one narrow, and one completely dark.

Kembi remembered his grandmother’s words:

“Beware of the wide path. The truth often lies in the narrow or the dark.”

He looked to Mbali, who was weary and frightened.

“I don’t know which one to take,” he admitted. “But one leads to the land of lost dreams.”

“The land of lost dreams?” she asked, curious and afraid.

“Yes… a place where hopes wander forever without finding rest.”

He reached for her hand.

“This choice may change everything…”

To be continued...

01/08/2025

THE BRIDE OF SEVEN SHADOWS

EPISODE 11
by: Anusiem's Daughter

"'Legacy of the Leopard’s Tooth”

Let me know if you want a poster

That day, Kembi Ntam went out hunting. As he approached the compound, he met his grandmother walking slowly with a basket. He was surprised and concerned.

“Grandmother, where are you going? Are you already strong? I left you in bed this morning, still unwell.”

“My son,” she replied gently, “I’m on my feet now, but my spirit is no longer fully in this body. That sickness already took part of it away.”

“You’ll be fine, Grandmother. Soon your strength and spirit will return. But where are you going with the basket?”

“I just want to harvest something nearby. It’s not far at all,” she said, her voice light but distant. “When you get home, go to the backyard tomorrow. You remember the wooden stool, don’t you?”

“Yes, Granny.”

“Dig under it. I left something there for you.”

As they parted ways, she smiled and whispered, “Goodbye, my son.”

“But you're only going a few steps away. Why are you saying goodbye like you’ll be gone for long?”

She didn’t answer—just walked away slowly, the basket swaying gently by her side.

Not long after, when Kembi arrived home, he was met with silence. A neighbor broke the news to him: his grandmother had passed away. He ran to her sleeping mat. Her body was still and cold, already covered.

He wept.

And then he remembered her strange farewell and her words about the stool.

Among the Pygmy people of the Congo Basin, it is believed that when the elderly pass, their spirit journeys to the sacred forest—the land of the ancestors. It is common for them to be buried in a seated position, surrounded by sacred smoke from burnt leaves and items of personal power. That day, Grandma was buried in full honor.

A week after her burial, curiosity mixed with longing drove Kembi to the backyard. There, beneath the stool, wrapped tightly in dried leaves, was a coconut shell. Inside was a necklace—a sharp leopard’s tooth and strands of elephant tail hair.

He remembered.

Grandma had once said, “Your grandfather was one of the bravest hunters. Before he left, he gave me this—something to protect me from dangerous animals and evil spirits. I will pass it to you only when I’m gone. Let it remind you that you are never alone.”

In Pygmy tradition, wearing a leopard’s tooth is a high honor. It symbolizes bravery and mastery in the forest, traits respected among hunters. The elephant tail hairs represent strength and a deep spiritual connection to the ancestors. This necklace was more than an ornament—it was a shield of ancestral love.

That same necklace had been around Kembi’s neck the entire time he was traveling with Mbali Ekombi. And now he understood why his grandmother’s spirit had appeared to guide and protect them when danger struck.

“I think I finally understand,” he said quietly to Mbali.

“Understand what?” she asked.

“Why my grandmother always appears to protect us. She left me a symbol of her presence before she departed this world.”

But their journey was far from over.

They had reached the third trial. The spirit of Bitam—the forest’s guiding force—was known to test travelers through confusion and memory. At midnight, their path suddenly vanished into thick mist. They couldn’t go forward. It was as though the forest itself had closed the way.

They were forced to rest and wait. At dawn, the path reappeared like dew on grass, clear and fresh again. They continued walking, heading toward the Mountain of Hope—the only place where one could look out and see the direction home. But more trials lay ahead, each guarded by different forest spirits.

Back home, their families were slowly losing hope. Days had turned to weeks. But Kembi and Mbali pressed on, not knowing that Bitam’s path had only just begun.

To Be Continued…

01/08/2025

🌸 **Hello, New Month!** 🌸

As we step into this brand-new chapter, I speak **prosperity, fruitfulness, and overflowing blessings** into our lives. 🌟

May every effort bear sweet results.
May every seed of hard work blossom into abundance.
May your days be filled with **joy, favor, and open doors** beyond imagination.

Here’s to a month where everything we touch **multiplies and flourishes**! 💫
**Happy New Month!** 🥂✨

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01/08/2025

THE BRIDE OF SEVEN SHADOWS

EPISODE 10
by: Anusiem's Daughter

The Nkolo – Spirit of the River in the deep forests of the Congo Basin was more than just a tale whispered among the Baka people—it was a sacred and fearful reality. Nkolo, guardian of the river, tested those who dared disturb its peace or cross its still waters. There were rivers without bridges, and this was the third path to salvation for the two seekers.

When they arrived at the riverbank, they had to cross in complete silence. Their footsteps had to be softer than the whispering wind. Nkolo cherished stillness. Even if someone was drowning, they dared not cry out. A scream would awaken the river, causing it to rise and swallow the noisemaker. In places where quicksand lurked, noise meant doom; the trespasser would start singing uncontrollably and be buried alive by the earth.

Only those with pure hearts and honest intentions could walk through such waters unharmed. Liars and those with unclean motives would not survive the crossing.

As they waded halfway through the still waters, mysterious voices began calling out.

“Mbali Ekombi…”
“Kembi Ntam…”

He leaned toward her and whispered, “Do not answer. Don’t listen to the echoes. If you respond, your voice will awaken the river spirit and you will drown. Keep moving. Ignore everything.”

They moved on, and just after they crossed, they saw a beautiful woman bathing on the other side. She noticed them and quickly covered herself with leaves from the nearby trees.

“Please,” she said, “there’s a sweet smell of fruit in your bag. May I have a piece?”

It was their last wild fruit. But he handed it to her without hesitation. She smiled, took it, walked into the river, dove beneath the surface—and vanished.

The gods had tested their hearts. Unknowingly, they had made an offering of kindness and passed the trial.

Moments later, a crocodile crawled out of the river. Fear struck, but he gently signaled her not to scream. They walked on—guarded now, it seemed, by the spirit of the river itself. They were thirsty but dared not cry out. Soon, they found a still pool of water.

There were no leaves to scoop with. So Mbali bent down to drink using her hands. But in the reflection, she saw the face of a beast. Shocked, she almost screamed, but Kembi covered her mouth and whispered, “Close your eyes. Don’t look into the water. Just drink.”

They obeyed. Even if their hands stirred the water muddy, they drank in silence.

Had they opened their eyes, they would have seen the truth: the reflection showed their spiritual forms. Mbali Ekombi’s reflection was that of a dog—loyal, loving, and protective. Kembi Ntam’s reflection was a lion—courageous, wise, and born to lead. The water was not a threat, but a mirror of the soul.

If they had reflected serpents or cunning creatures, they would have perished at the second trial. But they didn’t. They moved on—stronger and unseen.

Back in the Baka kingdom, many had already given up hope. No one believed they could survive.

But love, faithfulness, and courage guided them forward. They had crossed the second path and were about to enter the second spiritual shadow—a realm guarded by Bitam, the Spirit of the Lost Path. Bitam’s role was to guide and caution wanderers, especially those who forgot the way.

To this day, Pygmy elders invoke Bitam’s name to warn children: “If you wander or disobey, the Spirit of Bitam will take you into the lost path.” The forest must be respected, and silence must be honored. Forgetting the way meant inviting misdirection.

The zone ruled by Bitam was called the Whispering Bush—a place where voices never rose, and even laughter was silenced for fear of awakening the Lost Path.

The two had to be alert. One wrong step and they would end up walking in circles—lost in their minds and the physical world, unable to find their way back.

But Kembi Ntam had heard these tales a thousand times from Mama Zoba, his grandmother. She loved him dearly, and her stories were etched deep in his soul.

Before she died, Mama Zoba had insisted she wanted to see Kembi one last time. But he had gone out hunting. His mother, thinking her words were just the murmurings of an old woman, dismissed them. Moments later, Mama Zoba gave up her final breath—without her wish fulfilled.

Now, in the heart of the forest, her voice echoed in his soul. Her stories were guiding him. Her love was protecting him.

To Be Continued...

31/07/2025

THE BRIDE OF SEVEN SHADOWS

EPISODE 9: THE DANCE OF THE LOST
by Anusiem's Daughter

They needed boldness and wisdom—but they also had to be cautious with their conscience. As they moved carefully through the thick forest, a circle of dancers suddenly appeared in a clearing. Traditional drums beat like heartbeats from the earth, and voices rose in melodious ululation, echoing through the trees like wind-blown whispers of the ancestors.

It was a festival in the heart of the jungle—mysterious and mesmerizing. The music was strangely sweet, and the dancers' faces were masked, yet familiar. Some appeared to resemble people from their village, blurring the line between the living and the spirits. It could have been an illusion—a trick to draw them in and make them forget their journey.

"Can I join them? The music is calling to me," Mbali Ekombi whispered.

Kembi Ntam shook his head, voice firm but tender.
"Listen to your heart, not your ears. Don’t let the sound crawl into your mind. That’s where it begins—where you lose yourself."

"But it’s so beautiful…" she insisted.
"Yes, but it’s the music of the spirits. I feel it in my mind, not my soul. That’s the danger. We must go. And don’t look back."

It was well known that if a traveler joined the ghostly festival, they could lose track of time and awaken years later, if ever at all—mission forgotten, identity lost. Many hunters who once disappeared in these lands were never seen again.

Yet, the rhythm grew stronger, pulling at their thoughts. The longer they listened, the weaker they became. They fell into a trance. It was as if the forest itself was singing, and the dancers were spirits from sacred lands.

Kembi Ntam felt himself slipping. The drumbeats made his will tremble. His mind drifted, forgetting who he was and why he was there.

“Where… are we?” he muttered, stepping closer to the swirling dancers.

Then, from the darkness of that lost place, a voice pierced the fog.
“Kembi Ntam!”
It was his grandmother. Her voice echoed not in the air but in his soul. A shimmering figment of her appeared, gentle and firm.
“Go back,” she said.

He snapped out of the trance, gasping, and grabbed Mbali Ekombi, who had nearly vanished into the misty circle of dancers. She awoke just in time, and together they ran—tearing themselves from the music’s hold.

But the forest had more tests.

Lileka appeared next, breathtakingly beautiful, clothed in shimmering green leaves and vines. She offered warmth, love, and companionship to Kembi Ntam, who was still reeling.

“I am lost in this wilderness,” he said to her. “Can I stay with you?”

“Yes,” she smiled, her eyes glowing with a soft light. Her words were honey, and her gaze hypnotic.

Mbali Ekombi, still trusting, believed Lileka was real—until something felt off.
“This is the way,” Lileka whispered, trying to lead them astray.

But Mbali, noticing Kembi falling behind, pulled him close.
“Where are you going, my love? I’m here. Don’t leave me behind,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. Love, not fear, brought him back.

He had nearly followed Lileka into a night of illusions—one that could have stolen his memory, drained his strength, or left him unable to love again.

Desire can be sweet—but also deadly. Not all who offer love bring peace.

Lileka was no monster, but a test spirit. According to Baka pygmy legends, forest spirits like her guard sacred paths, allowing only the wise, the humble, and those guided by true love to pass.

They had now crossed the second trial, though it was meant to be impossible without sacred items like charms of red bark, smoked leaf pouches, or blessed ancestral relics. But love had become their shield.

That night, Kembi Ntam sang a quiet hunter’s chant as Mbali slept in his arms.
She was not just a companion—she was his anchor. Lileka only tempts the lonely. But love made them strong together.

Yet, they had only passed two trials. Five more shadows of death awaited them. The deeper they ventured, the heavier their burdens became. Passion, confusion, and exhaustion threatened to drag them down.

Each time they faltered, Kembi Ntam’s grandmother’s spirit appeared, saving them again and again. She was a guardian spirit, a sign that the ancestors still had a mission for them to fulfill.

Back in the Baka land, their people waited. If they did not return in seven weeks, they would be considered lost—unmourned, forgotten, unspoken. Those who perished in the land of shadows did not require burial rites. They had already crossed into the realm of ancestors.

There was one person who secretly wished Mbali Ekombi never returned—Ngozi.

But Mbali and Kembi were still holding on. Their next path would take them to Nkolo, the spirit of the river—a test no one had ever fully described.

What awaited them in the flowing depths?
Only the spirits knew.

To be continued…

31/07/2025

Goodday my amazing fam

One of our favorite contestant and amazing story writer lost access to his Facebook account but is still active through his WhatsApp channel. Please click on the link below to follow him and continue to receive his beautiful stories while he sorts out his account.

He has a new page now

African Tales by Cyril

https://whatsapp.com/channel/0029VakOqp7Au3aQ9aKG4W40

God bless you all.

31/07/2025

THE BRIDE OF THE SEVEN SHADOWS

EPISODE 8: “The Illusion Path”
By: Anusiem’s Daughter

They had entered the domain of Lileka – Spirit of Illusion—known in ancient Pygmy legends as the Tempting Mist. She was a mystical figure from the spiritual traditions of the Baka people and the Dwarf Kingdoms of the Congo, a supernatural force sent to test hunters and seekers who wandered too far into the heart of the forest.

As they trudged forward, tired and cautious, the trees grew denser, and the light dimmed. Soon they came upon a splitting path—three identical trails, each eerily silent and wrapped in shadows.

One path led to safety, a route that would guide them home eventually. Another spiraled endlessly in circles, designed to trap wanderers forever. The last, hidden behind illusion, led to danger and death—a steep cliff awaited those who followed it.

"I’m confused," Mbali Ekombi whispered, fear in her voice. "All three paths look exactly the same… which one should we take?"

Kembi Ntam hesitated. "I don’t know… I can’t tell which one is real."

Then he remembered the words of his grandmother:
"You are a gifted hunter, Kembi. But the forest holds spirits and illusions. If ever you find yourself before identical paths, don’t look with your eyes. Meditate. Let your heart speak to your mind. You have the gift of preselection—you just don’t know it yet."

"But how can I see without my eyes?" he once asked his grandmother. She had smiled and replied,
"The true path cannot be seen with the eyes, only with the heart and a calm spirit."

Still uncertain, Kembi was about to step toward one of the paths—one that led to destruction. Suddenly, he stopped.

"Wait!" he said, gently pulling Mbali back. "Look with your heart."

She frowned. "In this dangerous forest?"

"Just do it," he said gently. "Close your eyes and listen—not with fear, but with calm. Let your heart guide your mind."

They both closed their eyes. The world went dark. Then, Kembi saw a vision of his grandmother walking just ahead, glowing like a lantern in the mist.

"Hold my hand," he whispered to Mbali, "and follow me. But don’t open your eyes… not yet."

She took his hand. Blindly, they walked like two children of fate. Ten minutes passed. Then, the spirit disappeared. Kembi opened his eyes—and they were on the correct path.

But their test was not yet over.

As they sat to rest, hunger struck like lightning. In the distance, they saw a tree full of golden fruits, glowing and ripe.

Mbali ran toward it. "Look! Food!"

Kembi rushed to stop her. "Don’t pluck the fruit!"

"Why not? It’s just a tree. I’m starving."

"This is no ordinary fruit. This is temptation. Hunger won’t kill us, Mbali. But the hunger for what isn’t meant for us… will."

She hesitated. The fruit looked divine.

He added, "Eat from it, and be cursed with hallucinations, endless desire… or even madness."

Every step of the forest was a test. Just as they moved on, Kembi was the next to fall victim. He stopped suddenly, eyes fixed on something only he could see.

A stunning woman stood ahead—shimmering in the forest light, draped in royal ornaments. Her beauty was unlike anything he had seen.

"Where are you going, my love?" Mbali asked.

"Don’t you see her?" he said, entranced. "The princess..."

"There’s no one there!"

"Kembi Ntam!" she called urgently.
And in his head, the spirit woman also whispered, "Follow me..."

Two voices. One soul.

Then Mbali said firmly, "Follow me."

He blinked, snapping out of the trance. "I’m sorry… I was lost."

She frowned. "You were talking to another woman. Don’t let your eyes betray us."

They pressed on. But the forest was not done. Soon, Mbali was tested too.

Ahead stood two figures—two Kembi Ntams. One looked more handsome, more confident, more divine.

"Which one is the real you?" she asked in shock.

"The one holding your hand," he said gently.

She realized the truth and clung to him tightly.

Soon after, the sound of a child’s cry echoed through the trees.

"Did you hear that?" she asked. "A baby crying… We should help."

"No!" he said. "That’s Lileka. She mimics the cries of infants and weeping women. She lures kind hearts into phantom swamps or the territory of wild spirits. You will walk forever, thinking you're close, but the cries will keep drifting farther."

Mbali’s heart ached—but she trusted him. They walked away from the sound.

Their compassion was strong. But in the forest of illusions, compassion had to walk with wisdom.

And the trials of the second path… were not over yet.

To be continued…

31/07/2025

THE BRIDE OF SEVEN SHADOWS

EPISODE 7 – WALKING WITH A GHOST
By: Anusiem's Daughter

The old woman had shown them the right path. But as they followed it, winding deeper into the sacred forest, Mbali Ekombi’s mind was caught in a whirlwind of doubt. She couldn’t shake the growing fear that the person walking beside her might not be Kembi Ntam—her beloved who once abandoned her at the start of this dangerous journey—but something else entirely.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“How am I even sure the man I’m walking with is really Kembi Ntam?” she whispered to herself. “Where did he learn all these ancient legends? Maybe... maybe he’s a ghost, taking his form. Spirits are known to do that. Maybe I’m walking with the dead.”

Her skin crawled with fear. “If he’s a spirit, then I should be dead by now. Or maybe... he’s a figment of my imagination. But no, he ate bush meat with me. Real food. Spirits don’t eat… do they?” Her mind wrestled with confusion.

She remembered Kembi’s earlier words: "Some spirits can take human form, even eat like mortals. But they don’t feel emotions—especially not love."
“That’s it,” she said to herself. “I’ll kiss him. If he’s real—if he’s my Kembi—then I’ll feel it in the kiss. But what if he’s not?”

An uneasy feeling grew inside her. The man noticed her stare.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, half-smiling.

“Can’t a woman admire her boyfriend?” she said with a playful voice, but deep inside her heart, she was terrified.

As they walked silently, he suddenly said something that made her freeze:
“Sometimes, spirits take the form of someone we deeply love—to protect us… or to destroy us. There’s a lot of mystery in this forest.”

Instead of being comforted, she felt a shiver down her spine.

“How do we know if someone close to us is truly who they appear to be?” she asked.

“The form may be the same, but the spirit inside might be different. Just like two people can have the same face but different souls,” he replied.

He still spoke like Kembi, even smiled like him. But the doubt lingered.
“If he kisses like him… I’ll know,” she thought. But fear held her back.

“And how can we tell if the spirit came to protect or distract us?” she asked.

“We can’t always know. We just have to stay alert. That’s the only way,” he said calmly.

Mbali looked at him again. “How do you know so much about the sacred forest? You’re just a mortal.”

He smiled gently. “My grandmother told me stories. It’s as if she knew this day would come.”

“You must have been her favorite grandchild. She was called a witch, wasn’t she?”

“She wasn’t a witch,” he said firmly. “When people want to destroy someone with power, they call them names. My grandmother spoke the truth, helped people, and used her gifts to protect her family. That’s not evil.”

Mbali nodded slowly. “You must have loved her deeply.”

“With all my heart. And I also learned a lot from hunting.”

“What makes a hunter different from ordinary people?”

“A great hunter doesn’t hunt only with bows or traps. He uses all six senses.”

“Six senses?” she asked, curious.

“In the sacred forest, not every animal you see is truly an animal. It could be a spirit. Or another hunter in disguise.”

“And if you shoot it?”

“If it's a spirit, you could be harmed. If it’s a human, and you use a poisoned arrow, then you’ll find someone—not an animal—lying lifeless in the same spot.”

His words were deep, layered with meaning. Mbali found herself drawn in, but the fear still whispered in her heart:
“Is he really Kembi?”

They had passed the first trial, a harrowing one. Yet, what lay ahead was bound to be even more dangerous. The question remained—how long could a spirit pretend to be someone else? She remembered how the other spirits had appeared—briefly, intensely. Like the woman carrying a child. Like the voice that came from nowhere.

But Kembi had stayed. He had walked with her, fought beside her, and shared meals. Wasn’t that enough proof?

Still, she needed to be certain.

She slowed down, took a deep breath, and asked softly,
“Kembi Ntam?”

“Yes, my love?” he replied.

“You know how much I love you, right?”

“And I love you even more,” he said, his eyes glowing with tenderness.

She reached for his hand. It felt warm, familiar. Her heart skipped. She leaned in slowly, and he followed her lead. When their lips met, it was deep. It was real. It was unforgettable. Her doubts melted in that moment.

That kiss wasn’t just passion. It was confirmation.
He was hers.
He was real.
And he loved her.

She pulled away gently and smiled.
“Being with you makes me stronger. I’m not afraid when I’m with you.”

“I’ll always be here—even when you think I’m not.”

She looked at him carefully.
“Sometimes… you speak like someone else.”

He chuckled.
“It’s still me. I promise.”

“So, where are we now?”

“We’re on the second path.”

The second trial had not yet begun, but they could feel its weight in the silence of the forest. It would be fierce. It would test everything—love, courage, and truth.

But now, Mbali was ready.

To be continued…

Anusiem’s Daughter

02/08/2025

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