The sun had barely broken through the mist when Uzoaru stepped into the forest path leading out of Ameke. Her feet were sore, but her spirit stood tall, strengthened by the seer's chants and the blessing of the ancestors. In the leather pouch across her shoulder lay the charm beads tied together with strands of oji bark protection against dark forces. Each one whispered strength into her spirit.
Behind her, unknown to the village and even the prince's household, Nwanne moved swiftly through the undergrowth. Her charm bore no peace. It pulsed, unnatural and heavy. The seer who had fortified her lived in the forbidden hills of Ovu declared an enemy of the land long ago. But Nwanne did not care. Uzoaru was not going to win this. She would fight for the prince's heart, even if it meant aligning with darkness.
By midday, both maidens found themselves before the roaring Ekika River a sacred place where only the purest hearts could cross without resistance. As fate would have it, they arrived within heartbeats of each other.
"Uzoaru," Nwanne's voice was steady but strained. "So… you set out without a word."
Uzoaru's grip on her pouch tightened. "There was nothing to say, Nwanne. This is a journey of destiny, not pride."
"And who decides destiny?" Nwanne stepped closer, defiance burning in her eyes. "Your kindness doesn't make you better. We both love the prince. Let fate judge us fairly."
Before either could speak again, the river's current surged, forming a misty figure above the water. An old woman's voice echoed, "Only those who come with truth shall pass. Lie, and the river shall strip your spirit."
The test had begun.
Uzoaru stepped forward, placed her palm over her chest, and recited her truth. Her voice wavered but never broke. "I walk for Prince Nwabueze. I seek his healing. My heart holds no deceit."
The river calmed beneath her feet, forming a bridge of stone.
Nwanne hesitated. Her fortification began to hum with unease. The spirit within her charm fought against the river's purity. But her pride would not yield.
"I walk for love," she declared. "And for what is mine by right."
The river remained still, and the spirit figure narrowed its misty eyes.
"You carry more than love, daughter of pride."
A gust of wind hurled toward her, flinging her charm into the water. Nwanne screamed and fell to her knees.
But Uzoaru, halfway across the stone path, turned and reached for her rival. "Take my hand!"
The river was watching. Spirits of old watched too. Uzoaru's hand extended past the bridge's edge.
Nwanne looked up, tears fighting with stubbornness.
In that moment—rivalry met mercy.
And the journey continued.