A journey ends not when feet rest, but when the heart chooses…
The beam of ancestral light faded slowly, its echo humming in the air as Uzoaru and Nwanne descended Ufie-Ugwu.
In Uzoaru's hands, the sacred bark still pulsed with warmth. The crown had not chosen her. Nor Nwanne. It had risen into the sky—vanishing—leaving behind a trail of stars. A symbol that the fate of the crown now rested not on possession, but on wisdom, unity, and truth.
Their return to Abiriba was met with awe.
From the moment the village drums beat the rhythm of their arrival, villagers poured out like water from calabashes. Elders gathered in white wrappers, staffs in hand. Children pointed at their dust-stained feet, the warrior marks on their cheeks.
But it was the King, old and bent but unbroken, who approached them.
"My son lies between life and death still," he rasped.
Uzoaru stepped forward, untying the bark from her satchel. "We have brought the cure… not just for the prince, but for the kingdom."
The dibia ground the bark and applied the paste to the prince's chest. The wind outside shifted.
Then, slowly… Prince Nwabueze stirred.
His lips parted. His eyes opened—glassy, golden, alive.
"Uzoaru…" he whispered. "Nwanne…"
The maidens knelt.
For three days and three nights, the prince recovered. By the seventh, he stood in the palace square before the people, the sacred drum of Okpuachi beating low.
"I was blind in my pride," Nwabueze declared. "But these women… they journeyed beyond fear. Faced what I could not."
He turned to both maidens.
"I am expected to choose."
The crowd held its breath.
"But today, I choose something greater than love, than tradition—I choose honour."
He knelt before Uzoaru.
"You were by me in weakness, you journeyed with strength. Will you rule by my side?"
Uzoaru, eyes wide with tears, whispered, "If the people accept me, I accept you."
Then Nwabueze turned to Nwanne.
"And you… who nearly walked a darker path, yet returned with courage—I name you First Sister of the Realm. Your wisdom will guide this land."
Nwanne bowed low, tears streaming.
And so, the curse that clouded the kingdom lifted—replaced by harmony.
As moonlight bathed the palace in silver, the village drums began again.
Not for war.
Not for mourning.
But for a new dawn.