Esther Ochoga (2025)

02/04/2025

TEARS IN THE SHADOWS: A Tale of Two Sisters

Episode 14(Finale)

Obika wasn’t dead. But he wasn’t truly alive either. He was claimed.

Nkemdilim’s grip on Adanne’s hand tightened. “Sister, this isn’t right.”

Nnadi stepped forward cautiously. “Obika. Can you hear me?”

For a moment, silence.

Then, Obika’s head tilted, his lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“I hear you, Nnadi. I hear all of you.”

His voice was thick with something unnatural, something that didn’t belong in the world of men.

The villagers stepped back, murmuring in fear.

Mama Ekemma raised a shaking hand. “He bears the mark of the god. He has been touched.”

Adanne’s stomach twisted. “What does that mean?”

The elder’s voice trembled. “It means… he is no longer his own.”

Obika’s body convulsed, and a deep, guttural sound tore from his throat.

Then, he moved.

In a blur of motion, Obika was suddenly in front of Nnadi.

Nkemdilim gasped.

The villagers cried out, scrambling back in terror.

Obika’s blackened fingers twitched, and his red eyes bored into Nnadi’s soul.

“You cannot run from what has already begun.”

Nnadi didn’t flinch. “Obika, fight this. You are a hunter. You are a man of this village.”

Obika’s body je**ed violently, as if something inside him was trying to break free.

His breathing came in ragged gasps.

Then, for just a moment, something familiar flickered in his eyes.

His voice cracked, the god’s presence faltering.

“Nnadi… help me…”

A sharp gasp rippled through the villagers.

Adanne’s chest tightened. “He’s still in there.”

Obika’s hands clawed at his own chest, as if trying to rip something out. “I can’t— I can’t—”

Then, his body stiffened.

And a deep, unnatural laugh rumbled from his throat.

“Ah… the will of men. So fragile.”

His body je**ed back upright, his face twisting into something unreadable.

“The red moon has risen. The choice must be made.”

Adanne’s breath hitched. A life must be taken.

She turned to Mama Ekemma, panic rising. “How do we stop this?”

The old woman’s face was grim. “The only way to break a god’s hold is to give it something greater in return.”

Adanne froze. “Something greater?”

Mama Ekemma’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“A willing sacrifice.”

Silence fell like a crushing weight.

A willing sacrifice.

The villagers were murmuring now, their voices hushed but full of meaning.

“Someone must pay the price.”

“The god has been awakened because of them.”

“It must be one of the sisters.”

Adanne felt the weight of their stares pressing against her skin.

She swallowed hard. No. This couldn’t be how it ended.

Nkemdilim clutched her arm. “They’re looking at us, Adanne.” Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling with fear.

Adanne turned to Nnadi. “Father, tell them. Tell them this isn’t our fault.”

But Nnadi’s face was grim, his eyes locked on Obika. “This is bigger than fault, Adanne. The god is awake. The debt must be paid.”

Adanne’s hands curled into fists. “Then we fight.”

Mama Ekemma sighed, her eyes filled with sorrow. “You cannot fight a god, child.”

But Adanne wasn’t so sure.

She felt the black stone in her pocket, its warmth intensifying.

The god was waiting.

The Voice Within the Stone

A sharp wind suddenly whipped through the village, carrying a voice that only Adanne could hear.

“Will you strike a new bargain?”

She gasped, her fingers tightening around the stone.

The god was speaking to her.

“You seek to undo what has been done. But what will you offer in return?”

Adanne’s mind raced. The god wanted something greater.

A life.

A willing sacrifice.

She wasn’t going to give her own life. She wasn’t going to give Nkemdilim’s either.

But there had to be another way.

“You already hold the key, child.”

The stone burned hotter.

Adanne’s breath caught.

The stone itself.

The god had given it to her. It was a tether, a piece of him.

Could it be used against him?

Obika groaned, doubling over as if something inside him was breaking apart. His hands clawed at his chest, his body convulsing.

The god’s presence was trying to consume him fully.

There was no time.

Adanne grabbed Nkemdilim’s hand and whispered, “Trust me.”

She turned to the villagers and raised her voice. “I will end this.”

Gasps. Whispers.

Nkemdilim’s grip tightened. “Adanne, what are you doing?”

Adanne didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped forward and raised the black stone toward Obika.

The moment she did, his body froze.

His glowing red eyes locked onto the stone, and his breathing became shallow, desperate.

The god’s voice whispered through the wind.

“You dare challenge me?”

Adanne’s heart thundered. “If a sacrifice must be made, then let it be this. Take back your stone. Take back your power. But release him.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—a scream.

Obika’s body arched, his mouth open in a silent cry. The black markings on his skin rippled and cracked, splitting open like jagged wounds.

The villagers backed away in terror.

Nkemdilim shouted, “Adanne, what’s happening?”

Adanne didn’t move. She held her ground.

The god’s presence surged, but instead of overtaking Obika, it began to pull away from him—drawn back into the stone.

Obika’s body shook violently, his knees buckling. His red eyes flickered… then dimmed.

And then—it was over.

Obika collapsed.

The black stone in Adanne’s hand shattered into dust.

Silence.

Obika’s chest rose and fell. He was alive.

The villagers stared in awe.

Mama Ekemma exhaled. “She has broken the god’s hold.”

Adanne swayed, exhaustion crashing over her.

But as she stumbled, Nkemdilim caught her.

The danger had passed.

The god had taken back his power.

And the debt… had been paid.

The two sisters were free from all debt and lived happily ever after with their father Nnadi.

THE END

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01/04/2025

TEARS IN THE SHADOWS: A Tale of Two Sisters

Episode 13:

The villagers walked back in silence, the weight of Obika’s bloody disappearance heavy in the air. Nkemdilim clutched Adanne’s hand, her grip unsteady.

“I don’t believe he’s dead,” she whispered again. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Adanne’s thoughts were tangled. The god had demanded a life—but was this truly the payment?

When they reached the village square, Chief Obiora stood before the gathering crowd. “Tonight, we will light the sacred fires and perform the rites to lay Obika’s soul to rest. The gods must be appeased.”

A murmur swept through the villagers. Some nodded in agreement, but others—especially the older ones—looked uneasy.

One of the elders, Mama Ekemma, stepped forward. “Do you not see the signs?” Her voice trembled. “The red moon, the silence of the forest, the missing body. This is not the work of spirits. Something ancient stirs.”

Adanne and Nkemdilim stiffened.

Nnadi crossed his arms. “What do you know, Mama Ekemma?”

The old woman’s gaze shifted to the sisters. “Your mother… she feared this day would come.”

Adanne’s heart skipped. “What do you mean?”

Mama Ekemma sighed, her voice laced with sorrow. “Ifunanya came to me before she died. She said if the god ever awakened again, there would be no turning back.”

Nkemdilim’s breath hitched. “She knew?”

Mama Ekemma nodded. “She carried knowledge that was meant to be buried with her. But now…” She turned her gaze to Adanne’s clenched fists. “Now the burden has fallen to you.”

Adanne’s stomach twisted. “Then tell me—how do we stop this?”

The elder hesitated before speaking carefully. “The god of forgotten debts does not take without purpose. If Obika’s life was his payment, then his presence should be gone from our world. But if something still lingers—”

A loud shriek shattered the night.

The scream was deep, inhuman, yet unmistakably filled with agony.

Nkemdilim clutched Adanne’s arm. “That sounded like—”

Another shriek, closer this time.

And then, from the edge of the forest, a shadow moved.

A hunched figure stumbled from the trees, his movements jerky, unnatural. His skin glowed faintly in the moonlight, streaked with dark lines, as though something had burned through his flesh.

His breathing was ragged, his body trembling as he staggered forward.

It was Obika.

Gasps erupted from the crowd. Fear. Disbelief. Horror.

One of the younger hunters, Uchenna, took a cautious step forward. “Obika?”

Obika’s head snapped up. His eyes were not his own.

They glowed a deep, unnatural red.

A whisper rippled through the villagers.

"He has returned from the dead."

"No… he has been claimed."

"The gods have taken hold of him."

Obika’s lips parted, and when he spoke, his voice was layered—his own, and something else beneath it.

"The debt is not yet paid."

Silence fell like a heavy stone.

Adanne’s heartbeat pounded in her ears.

Obika had not been taken.

He had been given back.

But he was no longer just a man.

He was something else.

Something the god had touched.

And now, he was here to collect the final payment.

—

To be continued…

Esther Ochoga

31/03/2025

Tears in the Shadows: A Tale of Two Sisters

Episode 12: The Disappearance of Obika

The walls of their father’s hut suddenly felt too small, too suffocating. Nkemdilim clutched Adanne’s arm, her fingers ice-cold.

“The god will come for one of us?” Her voice was barely a whisper, but the fear in it was loud and clear.

Nnadi turned away, rubbing his face. “Your mother tried to protect you. She gave her life to keep the god’s claim from falling on you two. But now that you’ve spoken his name—”

Adanne cut him off, her voice sharp. “You knew about this all along. You knew about the god, the curse, Mama’s role in it. And you never told us?”

Nnadi’s face darkened. “I was trying to keep you safe. Some knowledge is better left buried.”

Adanne stepped forward. “Well, now it’s too late. The god is awake. The red moon is here. And Obika is gone.”

At the mention of Obika’s name, Nnadi’s expression shifted—not just worry, but something deeper. Something closer to fear.

“What happened to him?” Adanne pressed.

Nnadi’s voice was low. “I don’t know.”

Nkemdilim exhaled shakily. “Do you think the god took him?”

Nnadi didn’t answer right away.

Then, after a long silence, he said, “We need to find him before it’s too late.”

Word spread quickly through the village. Obika, the feared hunter, was missing.

Some villagers whispered that he had simply gone into the forest, chasing a beast. Others—especially the elders—muttered darker things.

"The gods do not take kindly to oaths broken."

"Perhaps his past sins have caught up with him."

"The red moon is never a good omen."

The chief, Obiora, called for a search party. “We must find him before nightfall,” he declared.

Nnadi was among the first to step forward. Adanne and Nkemdilim followed, despite their father’s protests.

“I won’t sit and wait,” Adanne told him. “If this has to do with the god, I need to know.”

Nnadi sighed but didn’t argue.

The search party split into groups, moving through the dense forest, calling Obika’s name. The deeper they went, the more the air felt… wrong.

Even the birds were silent.

Then—a scream.

The group rushed toward the sound, their feet pounding against the earth.

And then they saw it.

At the edge of the forest, just before the land sloped into the deep valley, the search party stopped in their tracks.

The ground was soaked in blood.

Nkemdilim gasped, covering her mouth. “Oh gods…”

Adanne’s heart pounded. “Where is he?”

No body. Just blood. Too much blood for anyone to have survived.

A single object lay in the center of the clearing.

Obika’s hunting knife.

One of the men murmured, “This is a warning.”

Chief Obiora’s face was grave. “No beast did this.”

Nnadi knelt, running his fingers over the deep gashes in the earth. His jaw tightened. “This… this is something else.”

Adanne couldn’t look away from the knife. The visions from the god flashed in her mind.

A dagger covered in blood.

A man’s face twisted in agony.

Obika…

Was this what she had seen? Had the god already taken his payment?

She turned to Nnadi. “Is he dead?”

Nnadi didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and faced the chief. “We need to perform the rites. If a spirit took him, his soul must be sent on.”

The chief nodded. “We will gather the elders.”

Adanne felt a sharp pain in her chest. This was her fault. She had spoken the name. She had called the god. And now Obika was gone.

As the villagers started back toward the village, Nkemdilim whispered, “Adanne… what if he’s not dead?”

Adanne turned to her, frowning. “What?”

Nkemdilim swallowed hard. “The god said a life would be taken. But what if… Obika’s not dead? What if he’s been taken for something else?”

Adanne’s breath caught.

She looked back at the blood-soaked earth.

A life would be taken. A debt repaid.

But what if Obika’s disappearance was only the beginning?

To be continued…

Esther Ochoga

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29/03/2025

TEARS IN THE SHADOWS: A Tale of Two Sisters

Episode 11:

The black stone burned in Adanne’s palm, its surface pulsing as if it were alive. The god was gone, but his presence lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Nkemdilim shuddered. “We should throw it away.”

Adanne shook her head. “No. This is the key to breaking the curse. Mama wanted us to finish what she started.”

Nkemdilim’s lips trembled. “But at what cost? Did you hear him, Adanne? He wants a life in return.”

Adanne looked down at the stone. A life. Whose?

She swallowed hard. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s go home before someone notices we’re gone.”

With one last glance at the silent river, the sisters hurried back through the dark forest.

Whispers in the Village

By the time they reached their father’s hut, the first light of dawn was creeping over the horizon.

But something was wrong.

Villagers were gathered in small groups, whispering in hushed voices.

Adanne pulled Nkemdilim aside. “Something happened.”

Before they could ask, Chijioke, their father’s closest friend, rushed toward them.

“Where have you two been?” he demanded, his face lined with worry.

Adanne hesitated. “Why?”

Chijioke exhaled sharply. “Because last night—just before dawn—something strange happened.”

Adanne’s heart pounded. “What?”

He glanced around before lowering his voice.

“The moon… it turned red.”

A chill ran down Adanne’s spine. The red moon.

The vision. The warning.

She clenched her fists around the stone in her pocket.

Chijioke continued. “And that’s not all. Obika is missing.”

Nkemdilim gasped. “Missing?”

He nodded. “He was seen near the forest before dawn. But now… no one can find him.”

Adanne’s stomach twisted. Was this the god’s doing?

She glanced at Nkemdilim, who looked equally shaken.

Their father’s voice suddenly boomed from across the compound.

“Adanne! Nkemdilim! Inside. Now.”

They obeyed, stepping into their hut as Nnadi shut the door behind them. His expression was dark.

“Tell me the truth,” he said. “Where were you last night?”

Adanne’s hands clenched. “We went to the river.”

Nnadi’s face hardened. “And?”

Adanne swallowed. “We spoke the name.”

His fists tightened. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Nkemdilim’s voice was small. “We just wanted to break the curse.”

Nnadi turned away, exhaling sharply. For a moment, he looked lost, haunted.

Then he faced them again. “You don’t understand the power you’ve awakened.”

Adanne frowned. “You knew about the god all along, didn’t you?”

Silence.

Adanne took a step closer. “What aren’t you telling us?”

Nnadi closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were filled with something that looked like pain.

“There is a reason your mother never told you the full truth.”

Adanne’s breath hitched. “Tell us now.”

Nnadi hesitated before finally saying, “Your mother wasn’t just the keeper of the god’s name. She was his chosen.”

Nkemdilim’s mouth fell open. “What?”

Nnadi’s voice was strained. “She made a bargain with him. A bargain that should have ended with her.”

Adanne’s hands trembled. “But… she died. What does that mean for us?”

Nnadi’s jaw tightened. “It means that now… the god will come for one of you.”

The words hit like a blow.

Nkemdilim stumbled back. “No. That can’t be true.”

But deep inside, Adanne knew.

The god had said it himself.

"A life will be taken. A debt will be repaid."

And now, with Obika missing and the red moon hanging like a warning in the sky…

It was only a matter of time.

—

To be continued…

Esther Ochoga

28/03/2025

TEARS IN THE SHADOWS: A Tale of Two Sisters

Episode 10:

The river churned violently, its once-still surface now a raging storm. The shadowy figure stood tall above the water, its form flickering between solid and mist, its eyes burning like glowing embers in the darkness.

Adanne and Nkemdilim crouched low, their hearts hammering in their chests.

"Who dares call my name?"

The voice was not merely heard—it rippled through their bones, shaking the earth beneath them.

Adanne swallowed hard and forced herself to speak.

“We did. We are the daughters of Ifunanya.”

The god tilted his head slightly, as if studying them. Then he laughed—a deep, echoing sound that sent a cold shiver through the air.

"Ah… the bloodline of the betrayer."

Nkemdilim gasped. “Betrayer? Our mother was not a betrayer!”

The god’s fiery eyes bore into them. "You know nothing of the past, child."

Adanne steadied herself. “Then tell us. Why is our mother’s bloodline tied to you?”

The god took a step forward. The water did not touch him. It was as if he walked on air itself.

"Long ago, before the gods of your people took their place, there were others—gods who ruled in the shadows, gods whose names have been erased from history."

His voice rumbled like distant thunder.

"I was one of them."

Adanne and Nkemdilim exchanged a look.

"The people once worshipped me, but your ancestors—those who sought power—feared my strength. They turned against me, sealing my name in the depths of forgotten rivers, so I could no longer walk the earth."

His fiery gaze burned brighter.

"Your mother was the last keeper of my name. She carried the knowledge of how to free me—and how to end the curse of the hunter who betrayed me."

Adanne’s breath caught. “Obika?”

The god’s expression darkened. "Yes. The cursed hunter, Obika, was once my devoted servant. He swore his soul to me, but when the new gods came, he abandoned his oath and sought to destroy me."

Nkemdilim trembled. “And you cursed him?”

"No," the god said. "The curse was not mine. It was the punishment of the gods who overthrew me. They feared him as they feared me."

Adanne’s mind raced. “Then… if we help you, will you lift the curse?”

The god stepped closer, and the air grew unbearably hot.

"You dare ask for my favor?" His voice was sharp, dangerous. "I am not a god who grants wishes. I am a god of forgotten debts. And every debt must be paid."

A heavy silence followed.

Adanne licked her dry lips. “Then… what is your price?”

The god’s eyes flashed, and the wind roared through the trees.

"A life."

Nkemdilim stiffened. “W-Whose life?”

The god’s lips curled into something like a smile.

"You will know when the time comes."

The sisters froze.

Nkemdilim shook her head violently. “No! You can’t ask us to—”

The god raised his hand, and instantly, her voice vanished. She clutched her throat, eyes wide in horror.

Adanne gasped. “Stop! Please!”

The god lowered his hand, and Nkemdilim collapsed, gasping for air.

"I do not bargain. I do not show mercy." His voice was final. "You called upon me. Now, you are bound to me."

Adanne clenched her fists. “What do we do?”

The god lifted his hand once more, and from the river, a small black stone rose from the depths, floating toward them.

"Take this."

Adanne hesitated before reaching out. The moment her fingers touched the stone, a sharp, searing pain shot through her body.

She gasped, falling to her knees as images flashed through her mind.

She saw a red moon. A man’s face twisted in agony. A dagger covered in blood.

And then… her mother’s voice.

"Adanne… Nkemdilim… you must finish what I started…"

Then the visions were gone.

She panted, looking up at the god. “What was that?”

"A glimpse of what is to come."

The god’s form began to fade, his voice growing distant.

"Take the stone. When the red moon rises, the final act will begin. A life will be taken, and a debt will be repaid."

With those final words, the god vanished into the mist.

The river stilled. The wind was gone.

Only the black stone remained in Adanne’s hand, burning like a living thing.

Nkemdilim gripped her sister’s arm. “What have we done?”

Adanne stared at the stone, her heart pounding.

They had awakened something ancient.

And now, there was no turning back.

To be continued…

Esther Ochoga

27/03/2025

TEARS IN THE SHADOWS: A Tale of Two Sisters

Episode 9:

The wind howled through the clearing, shaking the trees. Adanne and Nkemdilim stood frozen, gripping each other’s hands as Nne Agba’s words sank in.

"Inside this shell is a name. The god’s name. You must take it to the sacred river at midnight and speak it aloud."

Adanne swallowed hard. “If we do this… will the curse be broken?”

Nne Agba’s clouded eyes gleamed in the firelight. “The forgotten god does not give without taking. If you call upon him, be ready to pay the price.”

Nkemdilim shuddered. “What kind of price?”

The old woman sighed. “That… only he can decide.”

A chill ran through Adanne’s spine. This wasn’t just about breaking a curse anymore. It was about awakening something long buried.

Still, they had no choice.

As they left the old woman’s hut and walked back toward the village, Nkemdilim grabbed Adanne’s arm.

“Adanne, are we really going to do this?”

Adanne exhaled. “Do we have any other option?”

“But what if the god asks for something terrible?” Nkemdilim’s voice trembled.

Adanne squeezed her hand. “We will find a way. We always do.”

But deep inside, she wasn’t sure.

As they neared the village, they saw their father, Nnadi, waiting at the entrance, a deep frown on his face.

“Where have you two been?” he demanded.

Adanne hesitated, but Nkemdilim spoke first. “We went to see Nne Agba.”

Nnadi’s eyes widened in alarm. “The mad woman?”

“She’s not mad,” Adanne said firmly. “She knew about the curse. She knew about Mama.”

Nnadi’s face darkened. “She filled your heads with nonsense.”

“It’s not nonsense!” Nkemdilim snapped. “She gave us this.” She held up the cowrie shell. “Mama left it behind. It holds the key to everything.”

Nnadi’s gaze locked onto the shell. For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—recognition, fear.

Adanne narrowed her eyes. “You know what this is, don’t you?”

Nnadi turned away. “Forget all of this. You two will not go near that river.”

Adanne’s stomach clenched. “We have to.”

Nnadi whirled around, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with. Some gods should remain forgotten.”

Adanne met his gaze. “Then tell us what you know.”

Nnadi exhaled heavily, rubbing his face. For the first time, he looked… afraid.

“I can’t,” he whispered.

And with that, he walked away.

Despite Nnadi’s warning, the sisters knew they had to go through with it.

As the moon hung high in the sky, they crept out of their hut and made their way toward the sacred river.

The forest was eerily silent, as if even the night creatures knew something was about to happen.

When they reached the riverbank, the water shimmered strangely, reflecting the moonlight in an unnatural way.

Adanne took a deep breath and held up the cowrie shell.

“Are you ready?” she whispered.

Nkemdilim hesitated, but nodded.

Together, they knelt by the river and turned the shell over.

A word was carved into the inside.

A name.

It was ancient, unreadable, yet somehow… they understood it.

Adanne’s lips parted. She felt the name burn into her mind, filling her with an overwhelming sense of power and fear.

She exhaled, and in a voice that did not feel like her own, she spoke the name aloud.

“Obianujekwu.”

The moment the name left her lips, the air changed.

The wind stopped. The trees stilled. The river—once flowing—became as smooth as glass.

Then, from the water, a low rumbling sound began to rise.

Nkemdilim gasped as a shadow moved beneath the surface.

The river bubbled, hissed, churned violently.

And then—something rose.

A figure. Tall. Dark. Otherworldly.

Its eyes glowed like burning embers. Its voice, when it spoke, was the sound of thunder crashing against the earth.

"Who dares call my name?"

Adanne’s breath hitched. The god had answered.

—

To be continued…

Written by Esther Ochoga

26/03/2025

TEARS IN THE SHADOWS: A Tale of Two Sisters

Episode 8:

The small, worn cowrie shell lay in Adanne’s palm, its single carved symbol staring back at her like an unspoken riddle. The dibia’s words echoed in her mind:

"This was your mother’s. She left it in my care before she died. I never knew why—until now."

Beside her, Nkemdilim traced the carved lines with her fingers, her brows knitted in thought. “What does it mean?”

Adanne shook her head. “I don’t know. But if Mama left it behind, then it must be important.”

The dibia leaned forward, his face shadowed by the flickering light of the fire. “This symbol is old. It belongs to a time before our fathers’ fathers walked this land.”

Nkemdilim shivered. “Then who can tell us what it means?”

The dibia’s gaze darkened. “There is only one person in Umuozala who knows the ancient marks of the past.”

Adanne swallowed. “Who?”

The dibia hesitated before answering.

“The mad woman of the forest.”

The Mad Woman’s Curse

A deep silence filled the hut.

Nkemdilim’s eyes widened. “You mean Nne Agba?”

The villagers feared her. She was an old woman who lived alone in the deep forest, far from the village. Some said she was once a great seer, others claimed she had offended the gods and was cursed with madness.

Adanne hesitated. “Are you sure she can help us?”

The dibia nodded. “If anyone can, it is her.”

Nkemdilim clutched Adanne’s hand. “But no one dares to go near her! People say she speaks to spirits… that she is not truly human.”

The dibia sighed. “People fear what they do not understand. But I tell you this, children—if you wish to break this curse, you must seek her.”

Adanne looked at the cowrie shell again. It felt warm in her hand, almost as if it were alive.

She met Nkemdilim’s eyes. “We have no choice.”

The next morning, before the sun fully rose, the sisters set out toward the forbidden forest, carrying only a calabash of water and the small cowrie shell.

The villagers stared as they passed, whispering among themselves.

“Where are they going?”

“They are walking into danger.”

“They are cursed children, just like their mother.”

Adanne ignored them, gripping Nkemdilim’s hand as they stepped beyond the safety of the village and into the dark, tangled forest.

The trees stretched high above them, their twisted branches blocking out most of the morning light. The air smelled damp and heavy, thick with the scent of earth and decay.

Every step felt like walking deeper into the unknown.

A low howl echoed in the distance. Nkemdilim stiffened. “Wolves?”

Adanne shook her head. “No… something else.”

They moved faster.

After what felt like hours, they reached a clearing. In the center stood a small, crumbling hut, covered in moss and twisted vines.

A woman sat outside.

Her back was bent, her hair long and unkempt, her clothes tattered and worn. She rocked back and forth, whispering to herself, eyes fixed on something unseen.

Nkemdilim clutched Adanne’s arm. “Are you sure about this?”

Adanne took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“Nne Agba!” she called.

The old woman stopped rocking. Slowly, she turned her head, her clouded eyes settling on them.

A slow, eerie smile spread across her face.

“The daughters of Ifunanya have come at last.”

The Prophecy Revealed

Adanne froze. “You know us?”

Nne Agba chuckled. “I knew your mother before you were born. I knew the day she died. And I knew you would come to me.”

Nkemdilim’s breath hitched. “How?”

Nne Agba ignored the question. Instead, she stretched out her bony hand. “Give it to me.”

Adanne hesitated before placing the cowrie shell into her palm.

The moment the old woman touched it, she gasped. Her body shook violently, her eyes rolling back into her head.

She began to chant in a language neither girl understood.

Then, as suddenly as it started, she went still.

Her eyes snapped open.

“The symbol,” she whispered, “is the mark of the forgotten gods.”

Nkemdilim frowned. “What does that mean?”

Nne Agba’s face grew dark. “There was once a time when the people of this land worshiped many gods. But there was one god whose name was erased from history… a god of vengeance, of unbroken curses.”

She traced the symbol on the shell.

“This mark is his.”

Adanne’s heartbeat quickened. “What does that have to do with us?”

Nne Agba fixed her piercing gaze on her.

“Because your mother was the last keeper of the forgotten god’s secret. And now… it is yours to bear.”

The wind howled through the clearing, rustling the dry leaves.

Adanne clenched her fists. “If Mama knew the secret, then that means there’s a way to break Obika’s curse.”

Nne Agba nodded slowly. “There is.”

Nkemdilim swallowed. “Tell us.”

The old woman’s face grew grim.

“To break the curse, you must do what no one has done before—you must call upon the forgotten god.”

A heavy silence followed.

Adanne’s stomach twisted. “How?”

Nne Agba pointed to the cowrie shell. “Inside this shell is a name. The god’s name. You must take it to the sacred river at midnight and speak it aloud.”

Nkemdilim shivered. “And then what?”

Nne Agba’s clouded eyes darkened. “Then… you will see if the god answers.”

Adanne’s breath hitched. “And if he does?”

Nne Agba looked toward the sky.

“Then you will know the truth.”

The wind picked up. Somewhere in the distance, a shadow moved through the trees.

And for the first time, Adanne felt it—the presence of something ancient… something watching.

Waiting.

—

To be continued…

Esther Ochoga

Esther Ochoga

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