In the Human Realm (500 Years Ago)
The celebration had died down. The guests had long since returned to their homes. Ifeanyi, now crowned King of Oshimili, sat alone in his dimly lit chambers. His crown lay on the floor before him, untouched. He stared at it in silence.
A guardsman burst through the door.
"Your Majesty—the king... your father—he's taken his last breath!"
"What?" Ifeanyi blinked, disbelief flooding his face. "He had at least four more seasons…"
Without another word, he rushed to his father's chambers. His mother sat beside the dying king, her face grim and hollow. But when she looked up and saw Ifeanyi, a flicker of pride lit her eyes.
Uzo entered behind his brother, just informed of the news while still celebrating the coronation with the generals and warriors.
"My son…" the former king whispered. Ifeanyi knelt at his bedside.
"Father," he said, his voice cracking. "You said there was more time. You told me—"
"No, my son," the king interrupted. "You misheard. I said I wasn't sure... cough... if I would make it past the third season. But by the grace of the gods…" he looked between his sons, eyes softening, "…I made it through the night."
"And we will stay with you through it, Father," Uzo said, kneeling beside them.
Later That Night
Outside the chamber, their mother sat on a stool, staring out toward the distant river. Ifeanyi joined her, lowering himself to the ground by her side.
"Before he died… he blessed me beyond anything I ever imagined," Ifeanyi said quietly.
Behind them, Uzo stormed out of the chamber, his face stone-cold. He walked away without a word.
"I imagine this will hurt him the most," Ifeanyi added.
His mother turned to him, her face softening. "He is strong, physically. Built for war. Bigger than you. But he is still your little brother. And still weak at heart."
Then, for the first time, she broke. Tears came in a flood, years of composure unraveling in a single breath.
Ifeanyi pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
"He was too young," she wept. "His reign was far too short. Our love… far too brief."
After a long silence, she wiped her eyes. "Go. Console your brother."
"But, Mother—"
"Don't worry about me," she said, her voice firmer now. "Part of being a wife is being strong, no matter what."
Ifeanyi nodded and rose.
By the River's Edge
Uzo sat alone, skipping stones into the dark water. Ifeanyi approached, stopping a few paces behind.
"Uzo," he called gently. "Mom needs us."
Silence.
"Did you feel anything?" Uzo asked without turning. "His death, I mean."
"It's a great loss. To the kingdom. To lose a man like that," Ifeanyi answered, carefully sidestepping the question.
"Of course, that would be your answer," Uzo snapped. "Always the king. I bet you didn't even mourn him."
"Don't say that," Ifeanyi said sharply.
"I'm sure the only reason you mourn at all is because of Mother. I bet you grieved more for that rat you banished than for the man who raised you."
Ifeanyi lowered his eyes. "I won't respond to that. Because you're mourning. Because we're mourning. But speak to your king like that again…" He trailed off, inhaled deeply, and turned away.
Back in the Queen's Chamber
Now widowed, she stood alone, watching the curtains shift in the wind. The priests had taken his body. The silence of the room was unbearable.
She paced slowly. Her bed—their bed—felt foreign now. Every corner of the room haunted her with memories.
"Fine," she whispered to herself. "I won't sleep."
"What?" Ifeanyi's voice roared through the hallway as he confronted a priest.
His mother hurried out. "What's going on?"
"They want to cut off my mother's hair and isolate her?" Ifeanyi shouted. "What kind of mourning ritual is this?"
Her voice was gentle as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, my son… I shouldn't have sheltered you so much. It is customary. A sign of mourning and respect for the dead—especially a king."
"But Mother… your beauty—"
"—Died with your father," she cut in. Her eyes were tired, but resolute. "You are a king, but still only fourteen years old. What has you restless? You've been pacing the castle since nightfall."
"It's something Uzo said," Ifeanyi confessed. "He might be right."
"What did he say, my child?"
"It's about Dad…" He looked down. "I know we weren't close. And I know it hurts Uzo more. But... I didn't feel anything. Not even now."
"You feel more for Chibuzor than your father?" she asked gently.
"No… not even for Chibuzor. Neither loss moved me. I feel… nothing."
She looked at him, thoughtful.
"Then you're already a great king. What you have—other kings would kill to possess. Moral clarity. A heart free from injustice. It may sound sad, but it's rare. Now, tell me truly—what do you feel for your brother?"
Ifeanyi's voice dropped to a solemn murmur.
"To Uzo… I feel an unshakable urge to surpass him. To be greater than him. To outdo him in every way."
"Then protect him at all costs," his mother said. "Because without him, you do not exist. Without someone to surpass, you'll stagnate. He is your rival, yes—but also your mirror. You are on the right path, my son."
Ifeanyi managed a faint smile.
"Now that that's out of the way," she said, lightening her tone, "you deserve a story."
"I'm too old for stories," Ifeanyi said.
"And you're too young to be king," she quipped, "yet here we are."
He chuckled and sat down beside her.
"Okay," she said with a grin. "Let's begin."
Once upon a time, there lived a turtle. A female turtle.
She lived peacefully at the top of a mountain, her home surrounded by a beautiful garden that bloomed with life. She had two children—one a bird, the other a turtle.
"That means she was unfaithful," Ifeanyi says.
"Yes, my son," his mother replied. "She was unfaithful, and abandoned by two of her lovers."
One day, an army of birds rode through the sky on horseback, raining fire upon her garden, burning everything in sight. From one of the horses descended a great bird, his wings wide and his voice thunderous.
"I have come for my heir," he declared, snatching her bird-child from her arms and vanishing into the skies.
As flames engulfed her home, it crumbled, taking her with it. The only one who survived was her second son—the turtle—who tumbled helplessly down the steep mountain.
"Mmbeke? Right, Mother?" Ifeanyi asked.
"Yes, my son. Mmbeke."
Mmbeke wandered the world, homeless, surviving on scraps. His body grew weak, but his mind sharpened. Still, he did not use his cleverness for good. He became a trickster—scamming, stealing, and deceiving. He fooled his wife, outwitted the lion king, tricked the elephant, and even manipulated the birds.
"You know about the birds, don't you?" his mother asked.
"Yes, Mother," Ifeanyi answered. "That's why his shell is so rough—he fell and landed in pots and cutlery."
She nodded solemnly.
"And that day," she said, "was the last straw for him. He was angry with how the world treated him—and even angrier with himself for how he treated others. So, he made a plan."
One evening, Mmbeke went for a walk through a thick forest, searching for firewood. The deeper he went, the hotter it became, as if he were nearing a fire. Eventually, he saw it.
A burning bush, aflame with purple fire and a blue-red aura, unlike anything of this world. The longer he stared, the more enchanted he became.
Then, the bush spoke.
"What do you seek, creature beneath the gods, below the strong, and above the naïve? Feed the gods—they are hungry—and be rewarded beyond your imagination."
Startled, Mmbeke stepped back, ready to flee. But being Mmbeke, he didn't.
He smirked, stepped closer, and asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief:
"And what do you eat, oh great one?"
"I will give you your weight in what you feed me," the bush replied. "Feed me a squirrel, and I'll grant you a squirrel's weight in cowries. Feed me an elephant, and the riches will be great. But if you offer a human soul... well, you know—you can't put a price on that."
To test the truth, Mmbeke tossed a squirrel into the fire. The flames devoured it, and moments later, a small sack of cowries flew out.
He let out a heavy laugh.
"It's true then!"
But the bush warned:
"Take a life—and their sibling follows them in death."
"Ha!" Mmbeke scoffed. "I have no brother. Nothing binds me to this demonic deal of yours."
"Oh, but you'd be surprised, you tragic soul..."
Mmbeke didn't wait to hear more. Greed flared in his eyes. He turned and ran, forgetting his firewood, eager to begin.
"How do I bait them?" he muttered to himself. "How do I lure them to the forest?"
He went straight to Chofu the crocodile—his old rival.
"That thieving brute's stolen my food for years," Mmbeke thought. "He deserves this."
Approaching with a smile, he said:
"Did you know there's free cowries in that forest?" He pointed to the trees.
"Cowries? And you haven't taken them all?" Chofu asked, suspicious. "I don't believe you. Show me proof."
Mmbeke held out a handful of cowries. Chofu's eyes widened.
"I only get more if I bring others," Mmbeke said. "That's why I have so little. But if you bring people too, you'll get your share. In fact, take mine."
Greedy and convinced, Chofu ran off to spread the word. Soon, the village buzzed in frenzy.
One by one, Mmbeke whispered lies to his friends. He had "found gold in the forest," he told them. And so they came—unsuspecting, hopeful—marching into the bush.
At the entrance: gold beyond imagination. But not for them. It was for the turtle, who reaped what he sold.
Unbeknownst to Mmbeke, a bird crossed his path.
"Please," the bird asked. "What's this I hear about a bush that gives riches?"
"All true," Mmbeke said proudly, showing off a fistful of cowries.
"Thank the gods," the bird sighed. "My father is sick. A spirit told me I must pay a great price to save him."
"And now you can," said the turtle with a wicked grin.
Without hesitation, the bird ran into the forest.
Moments later, at the peak of his wicked triumph, Mmbeke screamed with laughter.
"I've outdone myself! I've truly, truly outdo—"
But he stopped, pain searing through him. Flames erupted around him. He was yanked into the belly of the burning bush.
"I warned you, turtle," the bush thundered. Then it laughed. "You really are a greedy fool. Now, with you, I will consume the entire village."
And so it did.
Everyone in the village perished. And that is why there are no more talking animals in our realm.
His mother ended the story.
Ifeanyi stared into her eyes—part awe, part curiosity.
"Now, my son," she said softly, "what did you learn from the story?"
"Greed is a force that can consume one's soul?" he answered.
"Yes... but that's not the real reason I told you this tale." She paused. "Do you know what I felt most in this story?"
"No, Mother," he said.
"The separation of two brothers," she replied. "Had they grown up together... would this still have happened?"
"No," Ifeanyi said. "It wasn't their separation that doomed them. It was the father bird who took Mmbeke's brother. That's what broke him."
"I know," she said gently. "In another kingdom,others believe Mmbeke and his brother were partners in crime. And yet, even then, their greed destroyed them. Believe it or not, my son—you can love your brother so much... that you begin to hate him. It wasn't just greed. It was rivalry. Don't let it come between you and your brother, okay?"
"My strong sons will rule this kingdom together—as brothers, bound by love."
The scene widened to reveal Uzo, who had been listening the entire time. Silently, he stepped away.
Back in the training hall, Uzo sat on a stool as Ifeanyi walked in.
"Oh—sorry. I thought this room was empty," Ifeanyi said, turning to leave.
"Wait," Uzo stopped him, rising to his feet and assuming a battle stance. "How about a quick spar? Unless you're too scared of a good beating."
Ifeanyi chuckled and got into stance.
"Don't expect me to go easy on you just because you're my king now," Uzo said with a smirk.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Ifeanyi replied.
Suddenly, an explosion rocked the sky.
A giant beam of light shot from the earth into the heavens, illuminating the dark clouds. Uzo and Ifeanyi looked up—then at each other.
From the center of the beam emerged Chibuzor, his body glowing with raw energy, wild spirits swirling around him.
"Time to pay, you little brats," he thundered.
His voice echoed across the land—like final judgment.