The man standing at the entrance pulled the door open once more. One after another, people filed into the shrine.
Three unfamiliar men entered first, their faces stern and unreadable. Behind them came Chielo, Ego's mother-in-law, followed by Nnadozie and three other members of Nnanna's family. Their expressions were dark with anger, and the hatred in their eyes left no doubt—they had already judged her guilty.
Chielo was a towering woman in her fifties, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, with a commanding presence that could unsettle even the bravest of men. Her booming voice and fiery temper had earned her a reputation throughout Umudibia. Few dared cross her path, for everyone knew she neither forgave insults nor forgot them.
At the sight of her, Ego remembered a story Nnanna had once told her about his mother.
Many years earlier, before Chielo married his father, Akunna—the village gossip—had begun spreading rumors that Chielo was no longer a virgin and secretly entertained both married and unmarried men. In those days, such an accusation could destroy a woman's honor. Virginity was treasured, not only by the bride and groom but also by both families. A stained reputation could end an engagement and rob a woman of the chance of marrying a respected man.
When Chielo heard the rumor, she said nothing at first.
Then, on the next Eke market day, she confronted Akunna before the entire marketplace.
"Why have you been telling lies about me?" she demanded.
Rather than deny it, Akunna proudly admitted to spreading the rumor. She even mocked Chielo, daring her to prove otherwise.
The slap that followed echoed across the market.
Before Akunna could recover, Chielo swept her legs from beneath her with frightening speed. Akunna crashed onto the hard earth. Like a lioness pouncing on its prey, Chielo threw herself on top of her. Blow after blow rained down upon the helpless woman before Chielo scooped handfuls of sand and forced them into Akunna's mouth, nostrils, and eyes.
The gossip struggled and screamed for help, but Chielo's fury was overwhelming. It took two grown men to drag her away from her victim.
Four market days later, she married Nnanna's father.
Bound hand and foot, Ego swallowed hard. She now understood why even Nnanna had spoken of his mother with caution.
The visitors took their seats on the wooden benches facing the altar. Only Chielo remained standing.
She walked to the old woman and embraced her warmly.
"Thank you, Priestess," she said. "Bringing her here would have been almost impossible."
The old woman leaned closer and whispered something into Chielo's ear. She nodded with quiet satisfaction before returning to her seat beside Nnadozie.
From where she sat, Chielo glanced toward Ego and muttered words too low for her to hear.
A sharp pain settled in Ego's chest.
So... she had been deceived all along.
The woman who had shared her meal, listened patiently to her story, comforted her tears, and called her my daughter had been working with Nnanna's family from the very beginning.
How foolish I have been.
The warning signs had been there all along. The priestess had carefully avoided every question about herself—where she came from, why she lived alone in the forest, and why no one ever visited her. Yet Ego had ignored every instinct because she wanted to believe there was still kindness left in the world.
Now that trust tasted bitter.
Just then another door, concealed beside the altar, slowly creaked open.
Every conversation ceased.
A heavy-set man emerged.
Though only of average height, he carried himself with the authority of one accustomed to commanding both men and spirits. His dark skin gleamed beneath the torchlight, while a thick, bushy goatee framed his broad face. Draped across his body was a spotless white wrapper adorned with rows of cowries. A strip of crimson cloth, also decorated with cowries, circled his forehead, from which two eagle feathers rose proudly into the air.
His eyelids had been painted with white nzu.
In one hand he carried a carved wooden staff topped with the figure of a tiny Chi.
Thud.
He struck the staff against the earthen floor.
Thud.
Each step echoed through the shrine.
No one spoke.
The dibia had arrived.
Holding a live white hen beneath one arm, he walked directly toward Ego.
Without saying a word, he circled her three times.
The only sounds were the soft shuffle of his bare feet and the frightened clucking of the bird.
Then he lifted the hen and slowly passed it around Ego's head three times before returning to stand before the shrine.
Raising the bird toward the carved Chi, he spoke in a deep, measured voice.
"Our fathers... forgive us for disturbing your rest this night."
He paused.
"But when a rabbit is seen running in broad daylight, either sickness pursues it or a hunter does."
He lowered his gaze toward Ego.
"We have come seeking truth."
"This woman stands accused by her husband's family of causing the death of their son and brother. You who see what is hidden from mortal eyes... reveal to us whether guilt lives within her heart."
Silence answered him.
The dibia gripped the hen firmly around its neck.
With practiced hands, he stripped away the feathers surrounding its throat.
The bird fluttered weakly.
Its frantic struggle gradually faded as the priest tightened his grip. The clucking stopped. Its wings drooped.
Life slowly slipped away.
Without the slightest change in expression, he twisted the neck.
Once.
Twice.
Then, with a swift violent motion—
Crack!
The head tore free.
A warm spray of blood burst into the air, splattering the priest's face, staining his white wrapper, and striking Ego across her cheeks and chest. The two men standing beside her were flecked with crimson.
Still expressionless, the dibia held the headless body over the calabash before the Chi, allowing the blood to drain into it.
"My fathers..."
He bowed his head.
"Ogugu."
"Ahiajoku."
"Amadioha."
"Accept this offering."
He handed the lifeless bird to one of his attendants, who disappeared through the side door and returned moments later carrying a small keg of fermented palm wine and several bitter kola nuts.
The dibia peeled a kola, placed it into his mouth, and chewed slowly. When the bitter juice filled his mouth, he spat it over the shrine while chanting ancient incantations under his breath.
Next, he poured a little palm wine upon the earth before taking a drink himself. Again he muttered prayers that none present could understand.
The shrine fell deathly silent.
Without turning around, he spoke.
"Untie the widow."
The ropes were loosened from Ego's wrists and ankles. Her numb limbs trembled as the two guards pulled her to her feet and led her before the altar.
The dibia planted his staff firmly upon the ground.
Thud.
His piercing eyes settled on hers.
"Do you know where you are?" he asked.