The Goddess of Light

T. F. P

The next day, Enoabasi woke up early and decided to go with Utibe to the shrine. Perhaps her mother’s advice had left a mark on her, because she was all smiles, joking, and even holding Utibe’s hand as if they were sisters. Upon reaching the shrine, she greeted the chief priest first, which was unlike her.

"Ame siere, Inua otop abasi idʌñ Ekarika, yak itoñ uwem osoñ fien," (good morning, mouth piece of the gods, may you live long), Enoabasi greeted in Ibibio.

"Ame siere nde... Enọ mfon idʌñ Ekarika, yak abasi mme ete ete mfo odioñ fien," (Good morning Gift of Ekarika, let the gods of your fore father's bless you), Umiaikpa responded, his voice calm but measured. He continued, ...."I warned yesterday that no one, except the chosen one and the chief priest, should enter the shrine for the sacred training."

"Yes, and I have followed that strictly," Enoabasi replied.

"So, who is this? Is she your next of kin?" Umiaikpa asked, pointing toward Utibe.

"Aha! Umiaikpa, please do not humiliate me. If I had a next of kin, it wouldn’t be this filthy rags. She’s just my slave, and she struggles with her hearing. She doesn’t even have an identity. Young lady, leave this place at once to avoid disaster."... Umiaikpa ordered...

Utibe’s heart sank, and she ran out in tears. She found a shed nearby and took shelter. As she sat there, tears streamed down her face. Just then, a butterfly gently landed on her skin. She looked at it and, in that moment, heard her mother’s voice guiding her, taking her back to her past.

(Flashback to Utibe’s childhood)

"My daughter, remember — you are not where you are because of what you are, but because of who you are. You are here to redeem the people of Ekarika and claim what rightfully belongs to you. No matter the situation you face, always maintain balance. Do not — do not let anyone discover your true self. Bear the pain, bear the humiliation, bear the trials; it is only temporary. My spirit will always be with you."

These were the constant words of her mother whenever she dreamed of her.

Utibe was the second daughter and fourth child of the royal family of King Idiong. She was gifted and blessed with extraordinary powers. Some people called her the African goddess, while others referred to her as the light of Ekarika. She was naturally and beautifully made.

When she was six years old, her family passed away — on one fateful day that would change everything…

Her father’s cousin had sent for her. She had wanted to decline the invitation, but her father insisted:

"If you refuse his call, people will think you are proud and unwilling to mingle with unroyal people."

"But I don’t want to go to his house," she protested.

"Remember his daughter—she’s all alone. Go keep her company, for my sake, please."

"Alright, father… I’ll go. Let me gather my things… but I’m only staying three days."

"Go in peace, and return in peace, my dear."

She left for her father’s cousin’s house, accompanied by a few guards and maids, as her father had requested.

When she arrived, the jealousy etched on her father’s cousin’s face, on his daughter, and even on his wife’s was enough to bury a whole community without leaving crumbs. Yet they forced smiles and welcomed her. No sooner had she settled than Okopumeghe, her father’s cousin, rushed out carrying palm wine and bushmeat.

Utibe sensed something amiss with what he carried and tried to get his attention, but his wife held her down, instructing her to go play with their daughter. She did not want to risk the success of their plan. They had tried several times to kill the king and seize power but failed because of the sensitivity of Utibe’s powers. Distancing Utibe from her family was their only hope—so there was no time to risk it.

Later, her father’s cousin went to the palace, carrying three jars of palm wine and bushmeat wrapped in plantain leaves. Upon arrival, he saw the king preparing to leave for his chambers. He called out, and the king turned, frowning:

"Who is it at this ungodly hour?"

"It’s your only surviving cousin," Okopumeghe replied.

"Ah! Okopumeghe! What brings you to my palace at this hour of the night?"

"Ha! My king, am I now a stranger in this palace? Of course not. I can come whenever I wish. Are you despising me for the wicked?"

"No, my brother, don’t think that way. Please, my brother, pardon me; I was only trying to show concern."

"Don’t worry, my king. I’m old enough to protect myself. Anyway, I brought something for everyone."

"What is it? I know you’re full of surprises."

"Yes, my king. But where is everyone?"

"They went to their mother’s family."

"Is it all of them?"

"No! Ha! How could it be all of them? Only Udo went with her."

"Okay… so where are Adiagha and Akpan?"

"They’re nearby… Edima! Ofonime! Your uncle is here!"

Both Edima and Ofonime emerged fully adorned in exquisite royal attire, each accompanied by two maids and two guards. Their elegance and commanding presence alone embittered Okopumeghe, though he concealed his resentment, knowing inwardly that their days of glory were drawing to an end. They greeted him warmly, smiling as though nothing was amiss.

The maids were instructed to prepare pepper soup with the bush meat and serve it. A few minutes later, the meal was brought out, and everyone ate, chatted, laughed, and shared moments of joy—one final night of merriment with Okopumeghe.

That same night, the Queen returned with her younger son. The King informed her of Okopumeghe’s visit and offered her the bush meat and palm wine he had reserved for them.

The following morning, Obong Usoro, one of the council elders, arrived at the palace. The guards and maids were already engaged in their routine morning duties. Obong Usoro instructed one of the guards to inform the King of his presence. The guard complied.

“My King, Obong Usoro seeks your audience,” he announced.

There was no response. He called again, yet silence followed. Troubled, the guard returned to Obong Usoro and reported, “Obong, the King is not responding.” This struck Obong Usoro as highly suspicious.

At that moment, other elders arrived. One of them asked, noticing Obong Usoro’s distant expression, “Why are you here alone? Where is the King?”

“There has been no response from him,” Obong Usoro replied. “That is unusual. He is always awake at this hour.”

“What should we do?” another elder asked.

“Summon everyone in the palace immediately,” Obong Usoro ordered.

Everyone was assembled and questioned about the whereabouts of the King, the Queen, and their children. None could provide an answer; confusion was written on every face.

Obong Usoro then ordered the personal attendants of the royal family to go into their chambers and wake them. They went reluctantly. Moments later, a loud cry pierced the air, and the elders rushed toward the sound.

“What is the cause of that cry?” one of them demanded.

“The King and his entire family are gone!” came the reply.

Shock swept through the palace. Fear seized the guards and maids, for they knew they would be the first suspects.

Obong Usoro summoned the Chief Priest and Okopumeghe, the King’s closest relative. Investigations began immediately. The guards and maids were interrogated, but they denied any involvement, weeping openly as they pleaded for mercy.

Tears streamed down Okopumeghe’s face, and the elders consoled him, for they knew he had been the King’s favorite. On several occasions, the King had dismissed council meetings just to attend to Okopumeghe, a fact that deepened their sympathy for him.

The Chief Priest declared that the guards and maids should be executed, since they had prepared the royal family’s last meal. At that moment, one guard gathered the courage to speak.

“It was Okopumeghe’s bush meat and palm wine that the King and his family consumed before retiring to bed.”

A wave of shock rippled through the council. All eyes turned to Okopumeghe. His tears stopped instantly.

The Chief Priest demanded that the same meal be brought for Okopumeghe to eat. The guards rushed in eagerly, retrieved the leftovers, and presented them before the council. Though Okopumeghe protested loudly, no one listened. He was ordered to eat.

The food had already spoiled, but to avoid further suspicion, he forced himself to eat and drink the wine. Minutes passed, yet he remained unharmed.

Immediately, the elders ordered the guards and maids to be chained, believing they were falsely accusing Okopumeghe. Unbeknownst to them, Okopumeghe had earlier placed an injunction on the meal, declaring, “You shall dine with me, but you shall not die with me.”

Okopumeghe then asked, “How did the Queen die, since she was not with us yesterday?”

Silence filled the room. The elders turned sharply toward the guards and maids, demanding an immediate answer.

The Queen’s personal maid explained that the Queen and her second son had been at her maternal home and returned late, and that no one attended to her that night.

This explanation led the elders to conclude that the Queen had been poisoned at her own home. Word was immediately sent there, and her entire household was arrested and held for execution.

A week after the burial of King Idiong and his family, the guards, maids, and the Queen’s household were executed. Yet the throne remained vacant. Okopumeghe grew restless, fearing he might not be crowned King. It was then he remembered Utibe was still alive and close by. Determined to secure his reign, he resolved to eliminate her.

One afternoon, he sat with his wife and plotted.

“My dear, I do not know what to do about Utibe,” he said thoughtfully.

“That should not be a problem,” his wife replied. “She should follow the same path as her parents.”

“The Chief Priest said she cannot be destroyed by man,” Okopumeghe answered. “She can only die a natural death.”

“What do you mean?”

“No poison, no weapon, no witchcraft can harm her. If I do nothing, she will one day threaten my reign.”

“But she does not even know her parents were killed.”

“What if she awakens her powers for revenge?”

“So what did the Chief Priest say could kill her?”

“She can only die a natural death… or drink the blood of a python.”

“Why a python?”

“The python is sacred. Since she is gifted by the gods, she cannot consume any sacred being.”

“Then that settles it. How do we proceed?”

“We will abandon her in the sacred cave near the Boundary of No Return.”

“Let us do it tonight. There is no time to waste.”

Unbeknownst to them, the guard assigned to escort Utibe overheard the conversation. Later, when Okopumeghe and his wife stepped out, leaving Enoabasi and Utibe behind, the guard tied Enoabasi to her bed and secretly led Utibe away, claiming she wanted to fetch water from the stream.

Once out of sight, he carried Utibe on his shoulders and fled through bush paths to avoid detection. Exhausted, he eventually rested beneath a large tree with sprawling roots.

That night, when Okopumeghe and his wife returned and found both girls missing, they questioned the guards.

“Where are my children?” Okopumeghe demanded.

“My lord,” one replied, “Edem took Utibe to the stream. Enoabasi must still be asleep.”

They rushed to Enoabasi’s chamber and found her tied to the bed, tears streaming down her face. She was freed immediately, taken to Afe Idʌñ, and the elders were informed. Search parties were dispatched that same night.

When Edem awoke, darkness had fallen. He saw firelight in the distance and considered calling for help, but Utibe stopped him. They ran instead. Villagers spotted them and gave chase. In his panic, Edem ran straight into the sacred cave.

The pursuers stopped abruptly.

“He has entered the sacred cave,” their leader said. “He is as good as dead.”

They returned to the village.

Inside the cave, Edem realized he was standing on something alive. When he struck it lightly with his machete, it hissed loudly.

“Uncle,” Utibe whispered, “this is the sacred cave. You have struck the python. Hide your weapon and raise your hands.”

Edem obeyed. The python’s eyes burned red with anger. As it advanced, Utibe began humming unconsciously. The creature halted. A young woman nearby felt a sudden chill and rushed to the cave. She arrived just in time, chanting incantations and guiding Utibe to sing aloud.

"O ancient one who coils the earth,

Breath of soil, keeper of bones,

Do not rise in hunger or wrath,

For I stand small before your age.

I am not iron, I am not fire,

I carry no blade, I carry no war.

My hands are empty, my heart is bare,

My blood walks softly upon the land.

Child of the first silence, hear me,

The sky did not send me to mock you.

The river did not teach me deceit,

The gods did not fashion me for harm.

If my feet have crossed forbidden ground,

Let mercy be the path they leave behind.

If my breath has stirred your sleep,

Let peace return you to your coil.

Eat not the voice that knows your name,

Drink not the life the gods have sealed.

For light yet waits within my bones,

And destiny walks beside my shadow.

Be still, O watcher of hidden ways,

Lower your crown of living scales.

What is chosen cannot be swallowed,

What is sacred must not be slain.

O ancient one… be still.

The python calmed, its eyes returning to normal, and it spat out a staff before vanishing. Awestruck, the woman declared, “The Chosen One has arrived.”

Back in Ekarika, the elders crowned Okopumeghe King, using a newly forged crown, since the crown of a murdered king could not be worn. Unknown to them, the original crown was missing. The new crown required human sacrifice. Okopumeghe ascended the throne.

(In Reality)

Utibe overheard Enoabasi screaming during her training. Curious, she peeped and saw that Enoabasi was stubborn and inattentive. When the Chief Priest lost patience, he whipped her. Enraged, Enoabasi vowed revenge once she mastered her powers.

“If you cannot master the sacred words and powers,” the Chief Priest warned, “you will never be crowned Goddess of Light.”

Utibe knelt humbly as Enoabasi stormed out, pleading softly to avoid punishment.

“My great Goddess of Light,” she said, “endure this hardship. One day, your gift will surely manifest.”