She raised her son in the forest’s edge, in a small clay house surrounded by thick bush and silence, the house was given to her by the village chief. She became a farmer, teaching her son how to till the soil, make ridges, trap bush rats, and grind vegetables over stone bowl. She named him Achadu - a name to remind him of royalty,even if no crown would ever sit on his head. As he grew, the boy became strong. He had his father’s shoulders and his mother’s sharp cheekbones. His skin was dark caramel, his hair coiled tight. And his eyes - though brown like most - held a distant sadness beyond his years. But fate, cruel as ever, did not let joy linger. At eighteen, after returning from a hunting expedition, he found his mother collapsed in their backyard, coughing blood. Her skin turned pale. Within a week, she was gone. He buried her himself - no priest, no chants, no mourners. Just him alone.“Mother”, he screamed by her grave, “Why did the gods take you away from me?, why did you

In the quiet outskirts of Otukpo, past the streets and the scent of roasting corn, lived a family rooted in tradition and faith. Their modest bungalow stood with pride - a single story structure with fluted pillars painted cream and olive, zinc roofing that hummed in the afternoon heat, and an open veranda where family and friends sometimes gather to feel the peace of nature. Inside that home, Ochekawo, a devout police officer with a commanding voice and soft eyes, lived with his wife Ihotu, a chef who owned a humble yet popular restaurant in the neighborhood. She was warmth personified, her hands always busy with cooking or with healing bruises.Their love was more than a marriage. It was a bond sealed by an agreement to protect the ancient oath of Oloche - a sacred covenant passed down Ochekawo’s bloodline. Together, they defied time and custom, and together they bore two children: Ene, a tall, striking young woman with confident shoulders and a mischievous grin, and Agaba Ngbede

Back in class, Igbe the class clown howled, “here comes the lover boy Agaba, who wished to fight warriors for the hands of Nneka” Laughter rippled round class. Agaba walked straight to his seat as he is used to this things. Then Idibia stood from among his guys and walked towards him. “Agaba, when they told me of your heroic rescue, I never believed it”, he drawled, leaning on his desk, his boys watching them both. “What do you want?”, Agaba asked. “Why fight me, man? Can’t we both be friends”. he threw glances at his gang and his gaze fell back at Agaba. Agaba frowned. “I know, you’re up to something”. “I’m offering peace. We’ve fought for so long you know” Idibia said. Then the form-teacher walked in, and Idibia ended the conversation, “Think about it, man”. After the brief section with the form - teacher, the school bell rang, and as Agaba and Ahmed stormed off the class, they saw Nneka - hugging the same prime boy, she’d once rejected. Agaba’s heart sank.“she’s