"Spy?" the queen scoffed, her laughter soft but sharp. "I wouldn't call it spying."
She turned to face the emperor one last time, her eyes no longer pleading — only cold and resolved.
"If only you had been with me," she continued slowly, each word heavy, "I would have given you an heir. A son. My son would have sat on the throne, and this whole mess would never exist."
She shook her head bitterly. "But now… it's too late. All because of your stingy acts."
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"Do not think of harming me. Do not even think of killing me. I know your secret — and I am not the only one who knows. If anything happens to me, your secret will be exposed."
She smiled faintly. "You should know by now… I don't bluff."
With that, she turned and walked out of the chamber, her back straight, her steps calm.
She hadn't come to his room planning to threaten him. But now that he had pushed her into this corner, she felt strangely relieved. With the emperor knowing she held his secret, he would no longer dare treat her lightly.
Inside the room, silence swallowed everything.
The emperor sat frozen for a long moment. Then suddenly, his hand clenched the bed cover tightly, his knuckles turning white.
"How did she find out?" he muttered in fury. "Who else knows? Who is behind this?"
His chest rose and fell rapidly. Sleep no longer came. That night, his bed felt colder than ever.
.
.
.
William stood by the window, sunlight spilling across his face. Outside, the streets buzzed with life. The air felt different — warmer, louder, alive. People crowded the roads, laughing, talking, calling out to one another. Young men gathered in groups, drinking and showing off their bright smiles. Children ran freely, their laughter echoing.
Everything pointed to one thing.
The festival was near.
A grin spread across William's face. He had heard stories about it — the colors, the music, the joy. He had never experienced it himself. And he didn't intend to miss it this time.
Excited, he rushed into Adrian's room without knocking.
"Temì!- Mine!" he called brightly — only to stop short.
Mola was packing.
"What are you doing?" William asked, stunned.
Adrian didn't look up.
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"You're leaving already?" William asked, disbelief clear in his voice.
"Why?" Adrian replied flatly. "Do you plan to live here forever?"
William stepped closer and instinctively grabbed Adrian's hand mid-pack. Adrian glanced at him sharply, his glare enough to burn.
William released him instantly, chuckling awkwardly.
"Eii… don't look at me like that," he said nervously. "Can't we stay a few days?"
"I'll leave," Adrian replied coldly. "You stay."
William caught his hand again — firmer this time, his voice soft but serious.
"Please," he said. "The Eyo festival is close. I've never seen it before. Let's wait until it's over."
Adrian opened his mouth to respond—
"Master!" Idowu burst in.
Adrian turned., a frown on his face. "Why are you dressed like this?"
Idowu grinned. "Ah-this!? It's for the festival!" He pulled out a red cloth and tied it gently around Adrian's wrist. "You should wear one too."
Idowu then noticed the luggage. "Master… are we leaving? Please let's stay till after the festival. It's going to be fun."
William's eyes lit up. "See? Even Idowu agrees. Stop being stubborn and let's stay. Uhm? What do you say?"
Adrian sighed deeply, straightening his back. He looked at their eager faces — William, Idowu, even Ayo, the kid— all glowing with excitement.
"…Fine," he said quietly.
The room erupted in cheers.
Annoyed by the noise, Adrian left the room, shaking his head.
Yet deep inside, something stirred. He had never cared for festivals. But seeing their joy… maybe this time would be different.
.
.
.
Dada walked with a heavy heart.
Ever since leaving the inn, his thoughts had been tangled and restless. He didn't know exactly where he was going — only the name of a small village echoing in his mind.
Aworan.
At the inn, he had weighed his choices carefully. Follow the third prince and complete his mission… or chase the memory that haunted him.
In the end, he chose the memory.
"I still have time," he told himself.
.Make it lengthy, humanized (written in a way a human would with simple words) and the feelings/emotions alive.
After hours of walking, exhaustion forced him to stop at a small roadside shop. An old woman sold faded fabrics and served tea. He sat and accepted a cup.
As he sipped slowly, his eyes stayed on the woman. She looked old — old enough to remember things long forgotten. Travelers passed through her shop daily. If anyone knew the past, it would be her.
He finished the tea, left a coin, and stood. "Thank you. I'll be going."
"Oii… young man," the woman called softly. "Where are you headed?"
He noticed the tremble in her voice.
"Aworan village," he replied.
Her eyes widened.
Then sadness washed over her face.
"Omase o- such a pity." she whispered.
Dada stepped closer. "What happened?"
"There is nothing left of that village," she said painfully. "Everything was burned. The people… gone."
His breath caught. "When?"
"Fifteen years ago."
His heart skipped.
The same year I lost my memory…
"What?" the woman asked.
"Nothing," he replied quickly, gripping his sword.
He turned to leave.
"You're still going there?" she asked.
"Yes."
"There's nothing left."
"I need to see it with my own eyes."
And without looking back, Dada continued down the road — toward ashes, memories, and a truth that might destroy everything he thought he was and loved.