Episode Four
1077 Words
Night had settled heavily over the Kingdom of Aloha, draping the palace in shadows that clung to every corridor like silent witnesses. The light filtering through the narrow windows of Queen Mariam’s chamber, illuminates the carved symbols of ancestors etched into the stone walls. The room smelled faintly of incense and the old power of sacrifices made and secrets buried too deep to uproot.
Nene stood before her mother, her hands clenched at her sides. She had not removed her ceremonial garments, though the day had long ended. Her heart thundered violently in her chest, each beat echoing with fear, anger, and a resolve she had never known she possessed until this night.
This was not the first time she had disagreed with her mother but it was the first time she stood on the edge of defiance.
“Mother,” Nene said, her voice shaking despite her effort to steady it, “I have come to ask for mercy.”
Queen Mariam did not turn from the window. She stood tall, her back straight, her crown resting upon her head even in private chambers a symbol that she never laid her power aside.
“Mercy,” Mariam repeated coolly. “That word has never protected this kingdom.”
Nene swallowed hard and stepped forward. “Spare Killia’s life.”
The queen turned then, slowly, her eyes sharp as a blade. “Why should I?”
“Because she did not choose to know the truth,” Nene replied. “She was told. And because if you harm her” Nene drew in a deep breath, her next words trembling but firm, “I will not go to Alasu. I will not allow their men to touch me. Not my body. Not my soul.”
The chamber was filled with Mariam’s furious shout.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“I would,” Nene said, lifting her chin. “Spare her life, Mother. Or I will refuse.”
For a moment, she was suffocating in silence. Then Queen Mariam laughed, a low, cold sound that sent chills down her daughter’s spine.
“No one threatens the Queen,” Mariam said, stepping closer. “Not even her own daughter.”
Her voice softened then not with kindness, but with practiced manipulation. “Listen to me, Nene. A true leader does not cling to truth like a child clings to comfort. A leader lies. A leader cheats. A leader sacrifices others so the kingdom survives.”
She circled her daughter slowly, like a predator.
“The Alasu men,” Mariam continued, “if they touch you, will ensure you bear a son. And once that son is born, they will kill you and the child both leaving the throne empty. Chaos will follow.”
Nene’s breath caught. “Then why send me?”
“For the throne,” Mariam replied sharply. “For our name. For the ancestresses who fought and bled so that you could stand here today.”
She placed a firm hand on Nene’s shoulder. “You are not being punished. You are being honored.”
Nene’s resolve cracked. Her mind swirled with images of bloodied rituals, crying girls, and generations of women swallowed by tradition. She thought of Killia unaware, hunted, innocent.
Shame flooded her chest.
“I will do as you’ve said, Mother,” she muttered.
Queen Mariam smiled triumphantly and composed. She pulled Nene into an embrace that felt more like a chain than comfort.
“In two days,” Mariam said gently, “your journey will begin with the other girls. Do not worry I have arranged everything. You will lack nothing.”
Nene forced a smile and left the chamber, her steps unsteady. The corridor felt endless, its torches flickering like mocking eyes. She did not cry yet. She carried the weight of her crown like a sentence already pronounced.
Not long after Nene departed, Queen Mariam summoned Kadida.
The guards led Kadida into the royal chamber. She fell flat to the ground immediately, prostrating herself in deep respect. Her heart pounded violently, her mouth dry with fear. She already knew why she had been called.
“Where is your daughter?” Queen Mariam asked ruthlessly.
Kadida’s voice trembled. “She… she went to the market, Your Highness. She has not yet returned.”
Mariam raised an eyebrow. “At this hour?”
She paced slowly, her fingers trailing along the stone table. “I am aware that your daughter overheard a forbidden conversation and poisoned my daughter’s mind with it.”
Kadida’s breath ceased.
“She lives,” Mariam continued, “only because my daughter begged for her life.”
The queen stopped directly before Kadida. “But be warned. My eyes are on you and your daughter. I will have my revenge when the time comes.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Kadida whispered, trembling.
She was dismissed without another word.
Kadida walked back to her home in a daze. Tears streamed freely down her face once she shut the door behind her. Her knees gave way, and she collapsed onto her bed, clutching her chest as though her heart might tear itself apart.
She prayed fervently, desperately that Killia had already gone far. That the river had hidden her footsteps. That the necklace guided her path.
Sleep did not come.
The night stretched endlessly, filled with dread and whispered fears. Kadida rose again and again to peer through the darkness, as though her gaze alone could protect her daughter.
At dawn, the village bell rang.
Its sound was sharp and final.
The day of departure had arrived.
Young girls gathered in the square, their faces alight with excitement, laughter spilling from lips that did not yet know sorrow. They spoke of distant lands and gifts, of becoming women.
The old woman stood apart silent, weeping. They knew.
They always knew.
The bell rang again, calling the elders forward. One by one, the old women laid hands upon the girls, whispering blessings and prayers soaked in grief.
The ritual was long and heavy.
When it ended, the girls departed from Aloha alongside the Mothers of Homah their escorts, their watchers, their silencers.
Kadida watched from her window, hands clasped in prayer.
“Let the princess return alive,” she whispered. “For if she does not… none of us will.”
And far beyond the village, the winds carried the echoes of a kingdom standing on the edge of reckoning
- Writer
