,🌹The Leopard’s Veil🌹

Chapter Five: The Bride from the Sea

Scene 1 – When Time Betrays

Ehia awoke to find herself still at the loom.

Her hands were stiff, locked in place over the threads. The fire in the chamber had gone cold. The moon outside had moved—twice, maybe three times.

> She had lost a whole day.

A bowl of untouched food sat near the mat. Nso must have come and gone. Or someone else.

Ehia blinked at the veil.

It had grown.

Dozens of rows now glimmered in silver and shadow, weaving themselves even in her absence. The pattern had changed—less royal, more wild. Sharp edges, coiling symbols. Not palace work.

Not hers.

Yet somehow… of her.

Then she noticed it.

A face.

Woven faintly into the cloth. A woman's. Eyes closed. Lips slightly parted, like mid-breath.

Ehia leaned in.

The moment her fingers touched the thread—

Flash.

---

She stood on water.

Or over it.

A white ship floated nearby, and on the deck stood a figure cloaked in crimson.

The bride.

She turned toward Ehia—slowly. And smiled.

Not sweetly.

> But like a wolf in lace.

> “You wear the mark,” the bride whispered.

Ehia tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t open.

> “We were both chosen,” the bride said.

“But only one of us can remain.”

Thunder cracked overhead.

Then—

Black.

---

Ehia woke with a scream caught in her chest.

The veil shimmered calmly. As if nothing had happened.

But she knew now:

> The veil could show memories—but not just hers.

It could show the future.

And the bride… was no stranger.

---

Scene 2 – A Sea of Silk

The palace courtyard had never been that full—not since the last war council.

Drums pounded low and steady. Dust kicked up from the sandals of warriors and foreign guards alike. Every noble house stood in place, wrapped in their finest.

And through the golden gate walked the bride.

Tall. Pale as moonmilk. Lips the color of bruised fruit. Her hair, coiled into a crown of dark silk, was draped with a gauzy veil—not the true one.

But her eyes—

Her eyes scanned the crowd until they found Ehia.

Not the Oba.

Not the queen dowager.

Not the warriors.

Just Ehia.

And when they locked eyes, the bride tilted her head.

> And mouthed something.

> "I remember."

---

Scene 3 – Questions With No Safe Answers

Back in the loom chamber, Ehia paced. Her heart still hadn’t steadied.

Nso returned, shaken.

“She… asked for you,” the girl whispered.

Ehia turned.

“The bride?”

Nso nodded, trembling.

“She said she knows you. From ‘before the threads.’ Whatever that means.”

Ehia gripped the frame of the loom.

The veil pulsed slightly. Not hostile—but urgent.

She stared at it.

Then whispered:

> “Who is she?”

“And what am I to her?”

The veil did not answer.

But it shifted.

The threads began to untangle themselves—unweaving a pattern Ehia had not touched.

It showed two figures standing at opposite ends of a river.

Each holding a blade.

Each with the mark on their palm.

---