The weaver’s daughter

EpisodeThree

Kadida sat on the edge of the bed, her back curved not by age alone but by years of unspoken fear. It was as though the house itself trembled at what was about to be said. Killia stood before her, arms folded tightly across her chest, her jaw set with the stubbornness that had always reminded Kadida of the man she once loved and lost.

This was the moment Kadida had dreaded since the day her daughter was born.

She patted the mattress softly. “Come, my child. Sit.”

Killia hesitated, then obeyed. Her eyes searched her mother’s face, sensing the weight in her voice. Kadida inhaled deeply, as if gathering strength from the very air.

“Killia,” she began slowly, “what I am about to tell you is not just my truth. It is the truth of our land one buried under blood, silence, and tradition. I have kept it from you to protect you, but now…” Her voice was shaking. “Now silence would be your death.”

Killia’s brow rose. “Mother, you’re scaring me.”

Kadida reached for her daughter’s hands and held them firmly. “Our land Aloha is cursed.”

The words hung heavy between them.

“Years ago,” Kadida continued, “after you were born, before I became what I am now, the ancient Kingdom of Aloha lived alongside the Kingdom of Osun. There was peace then, or so we believed. Until one night destroyed everything.”

Her eyes went dim, seeing a past she wished she could forget.

“The men of Osun committed an unforgivable crime. They r***d the queen’s daughter our princess until her spirit left her body. She died dishonored, broken, and alone.”

Killia was shocked, her hand flying to her mouth.

“The grief of the queen turned into madness,” Kadida said. “And the grief of the women turned into fury. The men of Aloha failed to protect her. Failed to protect us. In our pain, we decided the men could no longer remain.”

“You exiled them?” Killia asked in curiosity.

“Yes but not without war.” Kadida’s grip tightened. “The male werewolves refused to leave. They believed the kingdom was theirs as much as ours. So a battle was declared between female against male. The agreement was cruel but final: whoever won would rule Aloha forever.”

Killia’s heart pounded. “And… who won?”

Kadida’s lips trembled. “We did. But not alone.”

She paused, then spoke the words she had never dared say aloud.

“The female werewolves sought help from the Alasu men warriors feared for their strength and ruthlessness. We made a pact with them in secret. They would fight for us, strengthen us, and help us defeat our men. In return…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Our seeds would come from them.”

Killia stiffened. “You mean”

“Yes,” Kadida said, tears spilling freely now. “Our daughters would bear their children. Not as wives. Not as equals. But as vessels for peace.”

The room spun. Killia stood abruptly, pacing. “That means… every child born”

“Is of Alasu blood,” Kadida finished.

Killia stopped breathing.

“My father?” she asked faintly.

Kadida nodded. “He survived the war. He was exiled with the others. I never saw him again.”

Silence swallowed the room.

“And from that year until now,” Kadida continued, “we have kept peace by sending our young girls to Alasu for childbirth. It is the price of our victory and our shame.”

Killia’s voice shook. “This morning… Emir…”

Kadida nodded gravely. “Her death has broken the truce. The Alasu men will not see it as an accident. They will see it as betrayal. They may come for vengeance.”

Killia turned to her mother in horror. “Then we must leave. Mother, come with me. This kingdom is built on lies and bloodshed. It is not safe.”

Kadida stood slowly and held her daughter’s face. “My child, two of us cannot escape without raising suspicion. If I leave, they will hunt you faster. If you stay, you will die.”

“No,” Killia cried. “I won’t leave you.”

“You must,” Kadida said firmly. “I will send you far away by dusk. Do not return even if you hear Aloha is burning. Even if you hear my name spoken among the dead.”

Tears streamed down Killia’s face. “What about you?”

Kadida smiled sadly. “My spirit will guide you. I have lived my life. Yours is just beginning.”

She embraced her mother clinging to each other as though they could turn into one being. Killia sobbed bitterly, her body wracked with grief. Kadida held her tightly, memorizing the feel of her daughter’s breath, her warmth, her scent.

When the tears subsided, Kadida moved quickly. She packed a small bag with dried food, clean water, herbs, and medicine only what could be carried without drawing attention. She wrapped everything in plain cloth and hid it beneath firewood until the sun began to go down.

At dusk, when the sky bled orange and purple, Kadida led Killia to the riverside path an old route few used anymore.

She pressed a folded piece of paper into Killia’s palm. “Your father’s name is written here. Guard it with your life.”

Killia’s fingers trembled. “You think he’s alive?”

“I pray so,” Kadida said. “Follow the path east until the forest thins. Trust the river. And wear this.”

She removed a necklace from her own neck an old talisman etched with ancient symbols and placed it around Killia’s throat.

“It will guide you,” she said. “And protect you.”

They stood facing each other, the river murmuring beside them.

“I love you,” Killia whispered.

“And I love you,” Kadida replied.

Then Killia turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Kadida remained there long after, staring into the darkness until the ache in her chest became unbearable. At last, she turned back toward the village.

Aloha was eerily quiet. Fires burned low. Women mourned in hushed voices. The air smelled of grief and fear.

Kadida entered her home and barely had time to sit when a knock came at the door. A woman stepped inside her friend's, her eyes wide with panic.

“Kadida,” she whispered, “the princess says she has found who leaked the secret.”

For a moment, Kadida felt her spirit leave her body.

But she straightened her back and nodded calmly, as though the words meant nothing.

“Is that so?” she said evenly.

The woman studied her face, then left.

Alone again, Kadida exhaled slowly.

She knew Queen Mariam had forced her daughter into speaking. She knew the price that would be demanded. And she was ready to pay it because her daughter was already gone, already free.

Whatever came next, Kadida would face it.