
05/03/2025
Title::
The Bride Of The Water God 🌊 👹
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The drums echoed through the village of Otoré, their deep, rhythmic beats sending a chilling message through the night. The time had come. Every ten years, the Water God, Omi-Juba, chose a bride from among the maidens of the land. It was an ancient tradition, one that brought prosperity and protection to the village—but also fear.
Aja stood among the other girls, her heart pounding like the drums that summoned them. She was seventeen, with dark, glistening skin and sharp, intelligent eyes. Unlike the other maidens, who trembled in terror, Aja held her chin high. She had always questioned the stories whispered in hushed tones about the Water God and his supposed love for his brides. None had ever returned to tell their tale.
The chief priest, Baba Ekun, stood before them, his aged hands wrapped around a staff adorned with cowrie shells and river stones. His deep voice rang out like a prophecy.
"The Water God has spoken," he declared. "The chosen one is Aja."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Aja’s mother wailed, falling to her knees. Her father clenched his fists but dared not protest. No one defied the will of the gods.
As two warriors stepped forward to es**rt Aja to the sacred shrine, she swallowed the lump in her throat. Fear clawed at her insides, but she refused to show it. She would meet the Water God and uncover the truth for herself.
Dressed in flowing white robes and adorned with beads of blue and gold, Aja was led to the riverbank. The moon reflected off the water, casting eerie silver streaks across the surface. Baba Ekun raised his staff and chanted incantations in a language older than time itself.
The river stirred. The wind howled. Then, from the depths of the water, something rose.
A magnificent canoe, carved from dark wood and shimmering with an otherworldly glow, emerged. Its oars moved as if guided by invisible hands. The villagers gasped and retreated, but Aja stepped forward, her heart hammering. She climbed into the boat, and before she could take another breath, it shot forward, gliding across the river like an arrow.
The village disappeared behind her. Darkness enveloped her. The river stretched endlessly, its waters growing deeper, blacker. The air became thick, heavy with an unseen presence.
Then, the water parted.
A massive gate of coral and gold emerged from the depths. Beyond it lay a kingdom unlike any Aja had ever imagined—towers of water and light, fish swimming through the air like birds, and a palace of shimmering pearls. The canoe carried her inside.
She had entered the realm of the Water God.
Aja was led into the grand palace by silent, glowing beings that moved like liquid. At the heart of the palace, a great throne stood. And upon it sat the Water God.
Omi-Juba was unlike anything she expected. His skin shimmered like the river at dawn, his long, braided hair floated as if caught in an eternal current, and his eyes—deep, endless—held the power of storms. He rose, stepping toward her with an almost human grace.
"You are the chosen one," he said, his voice like rolling thunder.
Aja met his gaze, refusing to kneel. "Why do you take brides from my village?" she demanded. "Where are the others?"
A flicker of something—regret?—crossed Omi-Juba's face. He turned, gesturing toward a massive pool at the center of the throne room. "Come," he said.
Aja approached cautiously. Peering into the water, her breath caught.
Dozens of faces stared back at her. Women. Their eyes wide, their mouths open in silent screams. Their bodies trapped beneath the glassy surface, frozen in time.
Horror clawed at her throat. "You killed them," she whispered.
Omi-Juba's expression darkened. "I saved them," he corrected. "The world above is cruel. Time robs mortals of their beauty, their strength. Here, they remain eternal, untouched by death."
Aja staggered back. "You turned them into prisoners!"
The Water God stepped closer. "They were my brides. They are part of me now." His eyes bore into hers. "And soon, you will be too."
Panic surged through Aja’s veins, but she forced herself to stay calm. She had one chance.
"You say you love your brides," she said carefully. "But love is not possession."
Omi-Juba frowned. "You do not understand, child."
"No," she countered. "You do not understand love."
For the first time, uncertainty flickered in his eyes. Aja seized the moment.
She darted to the pool, plunging her hands into the water. A jolt of energy surged through her, and suddenly, the frozen faces of the trapped women turned to her, their eyes pleading.
A voice whispered in her mind. Break the bond… set us free…
Aja turned to Omi-Juba. "Let them go," she demanded.
His expression darkened. "I cannot."
"Then I will."
Summoning every ounce of strength, she plunged deeper into the pool. The water swallowed her, filling her lungs, but she did not drown. Instead, she felt the weight of countless souls pressing against her, desperate for freedom.
Then, she saw it—the heart of the Water God's power. A massive, pulsating pearl at the bottom of the pool.
Aja reached for it.
A deafening roar shook the palace. Omi-Juba screamed, his form flickering like a dying flame. The water trembled, currents raging in every direction. But Aja did not stop. She wrapped her fingers around the pearl and yanked.
The world exploded.
Aja gasped as she found herself lying on the riverbank, the village lights flickering in the distance. The sky was still dark, the air still heavy with night.
Had it all been a dream?
Then she heard them—whispers, laughter, cries of relief. Turning, she saw them. The lost brides. Women from generations past, now free, their spirits rising like mist over the water.
Aja clutched the pearl in her palm, its glow fading. The Water God was gone.
The village erupted in joy and confusion when Aja returned. She told them everything. The curse was broken. No more brides would be taken.
As dawn broke, Aja stood at the river’s edge, watching the waters calm. She had faced a god and won. But she knew the spirits of the lost brides would always linger, whispering their gratitude in the wind.
And from that day on, no girl in Otoré ever feared the river again.
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