This would be her last act of vengeance. She knew it, she could feel it in her blood and also Lisa wouldn’t stop talking about it.

“Things will fall into place soon, young human. You have done your part beautifully”

So then what, she thought, my part is done what will become of me?

“Your part is far from done. I will guide you. You need not fret”

She sincerely hoped she didn’t.

Once again, she stood before a majestic home, beautiful gardens, ridiculously expensive cars on display, a pool, statues, wonderful art works on display. All will be turned to ash.

Vanity upon vanity, all is vanity.

She was once again dressed in black, thick cotton long sleeved blouse and jeans. Her feet were clad in engineer’s boots and her head was neatly shaved. The only thing she did differently was to use charcoal as eye-shadow because she loved how hard and dangerous it made her face look. Her own face just did not cut it the way she wanted it to.

The place was surprisingly quiet, not a guard or maid in sight but she knew better than to think there was no one home. Nkosi tried to keep the noble men together but pride and stubbornness kept them from keeping themselves safe. She knew he was in there; she could smell him. She took a fleeting glace at the full moon, sailing in the sky like a beautiful ship, reflecting off the sun’s rays with such grace that made her heart ache.

Then she stepped in. A long hallway, dark and cold. The paintings seemed to stare at her, looking down on her appearance, they, after all, looked better than she. The sculptures seemed to push her away, the lion roared silently, and giraffe brayed without sound. She ran her fingers on all of them, she was not afraid of the dark when it was her constant companion.

She knew not to be afraid of the dark. The dark brings warmth and comfort, the dark hides your scars and your pain, it is a tentative healer, you just have to close your eyes and let it heal you. No, do not be afraid of the dark, be afraid of what’s in it.

She caught sight of a door, light spilling from around it’s edges. She did not break stride. There was no need for nerves or fear, this is who she is.

This is her duty, the least she could do.

With movements so silent even she couldn’t hear, she edged the door open.

Light flooded her eyes, she held up a shielding hand, but quickly retracted because there was way more people than she was expecting.

Way more people that she recognized.

Dismay creeped up unto her bones, freezing her where she stood. Anger licked her skin, teasing out the goosebumps and incredulity put its fingers into her mouth, into a grin that did not meet her eyes.

“Dzidzor” his voice was laced with pain, but that did not compare to the pain in his face.

“Nkosi” She replied, her voice light as though she had just woken up and Nkosi were offering her milo and pancakes before he rushed off to work.

She finally got the strength to move her bones, commanding them to stand in front of the witch mob, fear long forgotten but she knew she had to be delicate about this.

“Gyaase, Ayinbila,” she greeted, nodded to everyone as she addressed them by name “Lateef, Iyapo, Yakubu, Prampram, your Majesty Otumfoↄ and his beautiful, intelligent but vain daughter, Esi”

Esi was the only one who looked down when she addressed them, the rest stared her down, a show of bravado and strength but the tell-tale signs of nervousness showed in them all.

“It is over young woman” Prampram stated smugly. Instead of replying in kind, she addressed Kwaku.

“Bringing your daughter to a fight, why are you trying to get her killed? Or has she already told you?”

Esi whipped her face up, the very mask of terror.

“She is here to talk some sense into you…”

“With her lips or tongue? I do not care much for teeth, too much pain” Dzidzor found herself smiling. However, Kwaku did not share her sentiment.

“Stop this at once! This is the end of your reign of terror Dzidzor! Stand down now!”

“No one need get hurt, I am only here for Ayinbila. You have wives and children to ride on the backs to peasants and the poor to take care of. Don’t make me hurt you”

Her warning was apparently taken as an insult and most of the mob got up, ready for a fight.

“Don’t say I didn’t tell you” Then she saw red.

Prampram raced towards her, big muscles rippling to grab her and pin her on the floor but she jumped to the left easily, knocking the television off the wall unto the ground. Since he came in with too much momentum, he knocked against the wall and before he could realign himself, she brought the television crashing against his back. He screamed from the impact and then, silence from him. She heard Esi’s screams but did not turn to her.

Gyaase, Lateef and Iyapo flaked her, leaving her pinned against the wall. She felt a single cut on her right arm and turned to Iyapo; his left hand was behind him and his right hand was lifted towards her with only the index and middle fingers sticking out. It burned but she had to show no weakness. Gyaase growled as the spirit of a lion took over him, offering strength in battle and Lateef drew out his charm necklace and wore it.

She advanced toward her right and dropped instantly with her right foot out sweeping out in front of her, tripping Iyapo to the ground but sustaining five more cuts in the process, one directly above her eye and the other on her lip. She quickly stamped upon his chest, trying to do more than break a rib but she once again had to duck and roll from the two more attackers.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“Don’t hurt her!” Nkosi implored worringly but it fell on deaf ears. Gyaase pranced on her and she struck a blow directly in his gut, breaking his stride, but he was still able to enclose her body in his arms. No matter how hard she kicked his groin, he held her in once place. Lateef threw a kick at her back, the force so great. She knew the charm offered him inhuman strength. With her breath all but knocked out of her body, she knew she had to get out of Gyaase’s grasp. She lifted a hand and touched his thigh, waiting on Lisa to do the rest. As soon as his thigh caught on fire, she received a blow to the back of her neck.

“Courage!”, Lisa yelled, as she struggled to stay afloat in the sea of consciousness. Her vision danced and the only thing that kept her afloat was Gyaase’s screams, as the fire continued to consume his entire body. She faintly heard a familiar gush, probably someone using a fire extinguisher on him. However, she knew the damage caused would last a while.

“Get up Dzidzor!” Lisa encouraged.

She held the wall and tried to pull herself up when she realized Lateef was trying to save Gyaase from being charcoal. And then she began to float, invisible ropes tied about her body so that she would not move. She gasped in terror when she realized it was a snake. It was summoned by Yakubu, with his arms extended while he uttered incantations. It took almost all her energy to dodge the snake’s death strikes, but she knew it was just toying with her, if it really wanted her dead, she’d be gone by now.

“Surrender!” Yakubu cried “Surrender and face your fate!”

“Never!” Dzidzor yelled, conviction in her voice. She will have her revenge! People will not go what she went through, such horrible treatment and for what?

“Dzidzor please!” Nkosi pleaded, suddenly at Yakubu’s side “This will not make anything better!”

“Are you sure?” Dzidzor spat.

Then she saw Ayinbila put a brotherly arm on Yakubu’s shoulder and the snake squeezed, wrapping her more within its grasp, covering her face and head. She could not breathe and she could not scream.

As she silently resisted running out of air by the seconds, she saw herself, small and innocent and remembered it as the first time she was thrown out of the house to sleep in the servants’ quarters. The day had begun as usual, she was the pride to the eyes of her father that morning, until that fetish priest told him what the gods wanted. She shall never forget his face for as long as she lived, as he beat and pounded upon the back of a 9-year-old, due to jealousy, jealously from her own father. She could not sleep that night; it was dark and cold and all her clothes had been taken from her. For the first time, she prayed for death, and she prayed for 8 more years but death never came.

And now here was death, its icy fingers stretching to her neck, to grab her soul and make a run for it, and for the first time, she wasn’t ready. There was so much to do, she could not die.

She will not die.

“Ametor Lisa has chosen me!”

Every syllable was a breath of fire. The snake shook in pain and shock and released her, but she did not let go. She yelled that defining statement that enraged her father until it was ash and bone in her blood.

Then there was quiet. No one wanted to speak, no one dared to speak, she recognized this as fear. She did not turn to face them, but she kept her eyes on the snake that had turned invisible from being burnt to a crisp in her life. As she took inventory on all her aches and sprains and broken bones, she wanted to sit. She was tired, oh so tired. People had a mother to cry to, but hers was dead, people had a father for comfort, but he only caused pain. Her siblings wanted her downfall and the one she loved went away.

She just stood there, looking at the floor and breathing hard, her body noting how it could not breathe, just moments ago, when she heard scampering. She stretched her right hand and gasped at the pain of fire flowing through her veins and projected it outwards. Ayinbila fell backwards, narrowly escaping. Only then did she look at the audience.

Ayinbila was visibly shaking, scampering away from the floor towards Nkosi. Nkosi had tears in his eyes that when they fell, stained his gray bread. Gyaase and Iyapo remained on the couch, Gyaase moaning with pain because of the burns, Iyapo clutching his burned hand, where he tried to save his comrade. Kwaku was the only one who did not move, but she could see his eyes was full of hate and disdain for her and Esi remained at the back, crying and terrified.

Dzidzor wondered if she wanted to come or her father had forced her. How did they even know that it was she who was Viviti Mawudↄla? She wondered if Nkosi knew and yet still sheltered her, she thought of his dismay and disappointment. She wondered who came up with this plan. She wondered how they knew she wanted Ayinbila and not Kwaku. She wondered if they knew Esi is the only reason why she spared Kwaku’s life.

“Have you been raped before?” Dzidzor suddenly asked her voice raspy from the fire and the strangulation, when the fire in her hand burned down. The question sparked uncomfortable glances.

“Dzidzor…”

“I did not ask you Nkosi, I asked Esi”.

She looked up, sobs shaking her body but she shoke her head.

“Has your father raped you before?” Kwaku moved suddenly, enraged, but Nkosi held him back. She answered in the negative.

“So why do they think that bringing you here will change my mind dear Esi?”

“They know we are friends” she said sobs breaking every syllable “They thought you will listen to me! That if I spoke to you, you will stop this madness. But I told them you won’t listen to me, Dzidzor, and they still insisted”

“Your daughter could’ve died Kwaku” Dzidzor spat “Why did you bring her here? Sending her to marry a man she doesn’t not love was not enough to quell your desire for control. Do you wish for her to die, is that why you brought her here?”

“I will not take advice from a maniac! You do not know how it is like to be a ruler!”

“No,” Dzidzor conceded “Neither do you know how it’s like to be raped by your own father, beaten day and night, drinking frog infested waters and eating maggot infested food. I do not care about being King, because kings, council members, those in authority do not care what it’s like being a poor citizen.”

“I am so sorry for everything you have been through” Nkosi’s voice broke and that made Dzidzor’s heart fall more.

“I don’t want to hear it Nkosi”

“I know where Kafui is, your hunter. I found him, not more than a week ago.”

The mention of his name cause blood to rush through her ears, with the confusing ring in her ears. The betrayal, the hurt and pain, the years she kept waiting.

Oh God, she felt her chest begun to heave uncontrollably. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“I will take you to him, just stop this madness please” Nkosi’s voice was banking on the desperate “Lↄlↄ, right?”

“Stop” Dzidzor said, her voice shaking as tears begun to fall.

“He’s waiting for you, he loves you Dzidzor”

Do it now! Lisa’s voice echoed, do it now before it’s too late!

“Give me Ayinbila!” her voice shoke but she kept it steady by putting her hand on her throat.

“Dzidzor please…”

“I will end her!” Kwaku yelled advancing. She held out her hand and pushed him back with the sheer force of her Vodun. He flew back and collided with his daughter and they both fell down in a heap, neither of them moving.

She is not dead, Dzidzor told herself as she advanced towards Ayinbila. Several people began moving at once towards her and so she created a wall of fire between them and her target.

Her entire body was screaming Kafui’s name. Her subconscious begged her to take the deal.

You need him, they cried, you have to see him again.

The only thing holding her together was her left hand on her throat.

The commotion at the other end of the wall was the only thing that let her know where she was. The shift of the colors created by the fire was so beautiful like from a dream. Ayinbila begun to pray in rapid Ga knowing his time had come.

She raised her hand, and within seconds, he was engulfed by the flames of the sun.

“It is done”, Lisa breathed.

There was no difference between his charred body and hers, she thought as she fell down. She only has thicker skin.