I couldn’t speak for three days.
Not because I didn’t want to—but because my voice was taken.
The morning after Adaeze died in my arms, I woke up to find my throat raw, my tongue dry, and my voice completely gone.
No sound came out—just breath.
But the pain in my chest was louder than screams.
I hadn’t offered her.
She chose to protect me.
But the bride accepted it as a willing sacrifice… and now, the curse had been fed.
Mama Chinyere came to me in the night, her eyes wet and heavy. She sat beside me as I scribbled in a notebook:
“Why can’t I speak?”
She sighed and said,
“You took the curse in and denied it. Now it lives inside you. Until you face it… your voice will stay buried.”
I pointed at the wall, then wrote:
“How do I face it?”
She hesitated, then replied:
“By going to the place where the first heart was buried.”
“Where?”
Her eyes darkened.
“The Whispering Graveyard.”
At midnight, we walked together through the dense forest, guided only by a lamp and the prayers on her lips.
Owls flew away before we got close.
Even the wind turned back.
Eventually, we reached a gate made of human bones. Yes—real bones.
Above it, carved into wood:
“Here lie the unpaid debts.”
Inside were unmarked graves, arranged in a perfect circle. In the center was a single standing stone, covered in black mold.
The air was heavy with voices, whispering from the earth.
I dropped to my knees and touched the soil.
Instantly—visions flashed through my head.
I saw Obande, the bride, alive. Beautiful. Pregnant.
I saw the villagers—burning her alive as she screamed.
I saw her curse them, one by one.
“You will never bury your wickedness. You will live in it.”
I saw every sacrifice made over centuries.
Mothers trading daughters. Fathers offering sons. Lovers giving lovers.
And I saw my mother, pregnant with me… signing her soul away in a mirror, whispering:
“Take her, just let him live…
That’s when the whispers grew louder.
The graves began to shake.
The ground split open.
From the earth, hands began to rise—skeletal, burnt, bound with black cloth.
They reached for me.
Then I heard her—the bride’s voice—rising from every grave:
“You want your voice? Then speak my truth!”
“Tell the village what they are. Speak what they hide. Or remain mute… and next to die.”
Suddenly, the grave in front of me burst open, and from it rose Adaeze—her heart missing, her eyes empty, her lips sewn shut.
She stretched her hand toward me.
“Mary…” she mouthed.
“Free… me…”
I screamed silently. And then—
my voice returned.
But when I opened my mouth…
it wasn’t my voice that came out.
It was hers. The bride’s.
“I see your guilt. I taste your tears. But no blood cleanses sin. Only fire. Burn them… or die with them.”
I collapsed as the graveyard trembled around me.
Mama Chinyere dragged me back to safety. But I wasn’t the same anymore.
The curse had entered me.
Now the whispers didn’t wait for nightfall.
They followed me in daylight.
They lived inside my mirror.
And Adaeze’s soul… was trapped.
Unless I did what the bride asked.
Expose the village. Speak the secrets. Set the graves free.
Or burn with them all.
TO BE CONTINUED…
➡️ Episode 9: The Sacrifice