Episode 9. The Sacrifice
Written by Multiplegist
I stopped running.
The curse was inside me now.
It breathed through my lungs. It blinked through my eyes.
And every time I closed them, I saw Adaeze.
Her heartless body… floating in the graveyard, whispering my name without a mouth.
Begging for peace.
That morning, I walked through the village like a shadow.
Everyone avoided me.
Even the ones who once smiled out of pity now crossed the road to avoid me, whispering:
“She’s been marked.”
“The mirror girl.”
“Blood waits for her hands.”
Mama Chinyere met me at the shrine, clutching her chest. Her voice was weak.
“I am dying,” she said. “And the curse is watching closely. It needs a final choice.”
“What choice?” I asked, voice hoarse.
“The sacrifice.”
She handed me a knife—black-bladed, carved with ancient runes. The metal felt cold but pulsed like a living thing in my hand.
“You must give her what she demands: a heart. But not just any heart. An innocent one. Willingly. Before midnight.”
I fell to my knees.
“I can’t do it again. I can’t be the reason someone dies!”
She whispered:
“Then all of Onigba will die tonight. She’ll take everyone. The curse will feast.”
As the sky turned crimson, the clock struck 6pm.
Blood didn’t rain this time.
Fire did.
From the forest, flames rose—burning red but cold to the touch.
The mirrors in the village exploded, and from their shards, the bride stepped out—one foot at a time—dragging her veil of bones behind her.
“No offering… no mercy.”
I ran into the village square. The people were already kneeling, weeping, chanting.
“Take the girl. Give her. Give her.”
They were pointing… at a little girl.
Amaka.
No more than 8. Mama Chinyere’s only granddaughter.
She was crying, clutching a rag doll, confused.
“Why are they looking at me?”
My heart shattered.
“No. Not her.” I cried.
But Mama Chinyere… stepped forward… holding the knife.
“She is the last pure soul in Onigba. Let the curse end with me… through her.”
“You can’t!” I screamed.
“I must. My line birthed the curse. Let it die with my blood.”
She placed the knife in my hand.
Her eyes begged me for mercy. For courage.
“Do it… child. Give her peace.”
The bride approached. The ground cracked.
Time was running out.
I held the knife.
Tears flowed as I looked at the child.
Then at the bride.
“If I give her… will Adaeze be freed?”
The bride nodded slowly.
“Then take me instead.”
I dropped the knife.
The sky roared.
The villagers screamed.
Mama Chinyere collapsed, shouting:
“No! She chose herself! That’s forbidden!”
But it was too late.
The bride smiled.
And for the first time… she wept.
She opened her arms, and I walked into them.
Fire consumed me.
But I didn’t feel pain.
I felt release.
My body floated. My soul peeled from flesh.
I saw every cursed soul rising—Adaeze… Uzoma… even Obande, the bride—smiling with peace.
I had broken the chain.
The curse needed one who chose to die freely
As I faded, I heard the whispers one last time:
“She gave herself… the price is paid… the village is free…”
TO BE CONTINUED
Post a Comment
0Comments