Chapter 1: The Mango Tree’s Secret

The skeleton don dey suffer under the Soul Suppressing Bead for thirteen years. My spirit don tire reach bone—if breeze blow small, e for scatter like ash.

Even after all this time, I dey feel the weight of those years press me down, like harmattan sun dey roast bare earth, my bones dey ache even for spirit land. Life for up dey move on, but under this bead, na only forgotten rumour I be, dey fade small-small every day.

Na that time I jam the real daughter wey dem chase comot from the chief’s house. She no suppose dey here, but na fate carry her reach my grave.

The day she land, the air change. Her presence wake something for my spirit wey I believe don die tey-tey. Inside this darkness, e be like say her suffering call my own, two abandoned souls meet for edge of world.

She lie for top my skeleton, tears dey run her face:

Her cry carry the wahala of person wey chop betrayal, still dey taste the salt. Rainwater, sweat, tears—all of dem join as she curl for my bones like person wey dey find warmth wey this world no wan give her.

"I wan die. You wan live. Make we swap."

Her voice no pass the whine of night mosquito, but e cut deep pass any blade. That moment, our destinies twist together, tight like wrapper for grieving widow waist.