Uzoaru moved like a whisper through the dense forest, her bare feet padded by the moss-covered earth. The trees loomed like guardians, their ancient trunks wrapped in vines and stories. She carried only what was necessary—a small gourd of water, a satchel filled with dried herbs, and the pendant the seeress had given her, glowing faintly against her chest.
It had been three days since she left Amaizu.
Each night, she slept beneath the stars, wrapped in a thin shawl, the prince's face etched in her thoughts. She remembered the way his voice softened when he spoke her name, the way he had once joked about naming the village goat after her because it always followed him around. Now he was silent, battling a curse woven by the spirits themselves.
The first trial came in the form of temptation.
Uzoaru entered a clearing where a bubbling stream cut through smooth stones. She knelt to refill her gourd and wash her face, when she noticed something glimmering beneath the water. It was a golden bracelet—delicate and shaped like the royal crest.
She reached for it, her fingers grazing the surface, when a voice echoed from the trees.
"What you desire may not desire you in return."
Startled, she stood up. A tall, willowy woman dressed in shimmering blue cloth emerged from the mist. Her hair flowed like water, and her eyes mirrored the stream.
"I am Mmirioma, spirit of longing," the woman said. "Many who travel this path lose themselves trying to claim what was never meant for them."
Uzoaru bowed slightly. "I do not seek power. Only healing. For the one I love."
Mmirioma nodded, then gestured toward the path.
"Then prove it. Ahead lies a tree that weeps blood. Do not touch its fruit. No matter how sweet they seem."
Uzoaru thanked her and continued, passing the tree later that dusk. Its fruits glowed like rubies and pulsed with an intoxicating aroma. But she remembered the warning and pressed forward, her stomach grumbling in protest.
Meanwhile, far behind, Nwanne pushed forward with unnatural speed.
Unlike Uzoaru, she was not met by spirits of warning, but by echoes—dark things that whispered from the roots of trees and the hollows of rocks.
"You are the true queen," one said.
"She walks in the light, but you command the shadows," another hissed.
And Nwanne believed them. With each step, her pride grew. She drank water that tasted like iron. She slept but did not dream. Her body became stronger, but her spirit began to twist, like a vine strangling itself.
Then one night, as the moon hung low, both maidens—unknown to each other—reached the same hilltop from opposite ends.
They saw each other.
Uzoaru blinked, surprised. "Nwanne?"
"You're slow," Nwanne said, folding her arms.
Uzoaru approached cautiously. "Why are you here?"
"To find the cure," Nwanne replied flatly.
Uzoaru's eyes softened. "I thought you moved on. I thought you were with Obidike now."
Nwanne's jaw tightened. "I didn't come to talk about the past."
They stared at one another—once friends, now rivals—beneath a moonlit sky.
A low rumble cracked the silence.
The ground beneath them shook. From the valley below, dark creatures emerged—beasts with glowing eyes and claws like obsidian. Spirit-guardians twisted by corruption.
Uzoaru gripped her pendant.
"We'll have to fight them together," she said quickly.
"I don't need your help," Nwanne snapped, drawing a charm from her waist.
The beasts growled.
One lunged.
And instinctively, Nwanne and Uzoaru fought side by side.
Uzoaru summoned light from her pendant, blinding one of the creatures as Nwanne chanted dark incantations, forcing others back. Their movements were out of rhythm, yet somehow effective. They struck. They shielded. They moved like echoes of each other.
When the last beast fell, both women stood panting.
Silence.
"You're stronger than before," Uzoaru said.
Nwanne didn't answer. She turned away, already walking toward the next path.
But before she disappeared into the shadows, she muttered, "Don't think this changes anything."
Uzoaru watched her go. Her heart ached—not just for the prince, but for what she and Nwanne had lost.
Then she looked up at the stars.
More trials awaited. But she would not falter.