Chapter Seven: The Fire Ceremony
587 Words
Scene 1 – The Oracle’s Flame
They gathered before dawn.
The sky was still dark, but the Oba’s court was already pulsing with silent tension. Warriors lined the courtyard in rows of bronze and crimson. Priests wore white, their heads dusted with ash.
In the center, a stone pit roared to life—The Oracle Flame, lit only twice in a generation.
It didn’t burn wood.
It burned truth.
“Step forward,” the high priest intoned, “and the fire will show what the gods see.”
The Oba stood at the head of the steps, his face unreadable.
To his left—Ehia, wrapped in plain indigo. No jewelry. No veil.
To his right—the bride, draped in blood-silk, her eyes like wet glass, her smile faint and sharp.
Nso stood behind Ehia, whispering.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes,” Ehia said. “I do.”
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Scene 2 – Into the Fire
The bride went first.
She stepped barefoot into the ash-ring, her hands spread, her voice clear.
“I come not from this land, but I come with purpose,” she said. “I am the flame reborn.”
The fire flared orange.
Then blue.
Then black.
Gasps rang out.
But the high priest only nodded slowly. “She is accepted.”
Ehia swallowed hard.
Then stepped into the ring.
She felt nothing at first.
Then heat—not on her skin, but inside her chest.
The fire turned white.
And then—
A shape appeared in the flame.
Not hers.
Her mother’s.
“Daughter,” it said softly, “you must finish it… or everything burns.”
Then the flame erupted into gold.
The priest fell to his knees.
The palace hushed.
She had not just been accepted.
She had been chosen.
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Scene 3 – The Sabotage
That night, Ehia returned to the loom.
But something was wrong.
The thread basket had been overturned.
The dye jars shattered.
And across the veil—
A s***h.
Right through the center.
It pulsed like an open wound.
Ehia stared in shock. Then looked around.
Nso ran in moments later, breathless.
“They said the bride was seen… here.”
Ehia clenched her fists.
“This is war.”
But then—behind the veil—she saw something else.
A new pattern forming.
Not one she’d ever woven.
Two figures, side by side.
One holding a spindle.
The other holding fire.
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Scene 4 – The Choice Approaches
The Oba summoned Ehia late that night.
He looked tired. Older. As if carrying the weight of a decision no one else could make.
He stood before the sacred pool, staring into its still waters.
“She passed the flame,” he said.
“So did I,” Ehia replied.
He turned to her.
“I have to choose a bride in five days. The kingdom expects… an alliance.”
Ehia didn’t speak.
Because in that silence, she heard the veil whispering behind her ribcage:
> “Five days to finish the veil.”
“Five days before one of you vanishes.”
The Oba stepped closer.
“You’ve changed,” he said softly. “You feel like someone I used to know.”
She met his eyes.
“That girl is gone,” she said.
“And what stands in her place?” he asked.
Ehia gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
> “A weaver,” she said.
“And a weapon.”
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