The night was almost over. The stars were slowly retreating from the sky and the first breath of dawn was beginning to touch the roofs of Aguni.

With the flower of reflections clutched tightly against her chest, Olanik emerged from the forbidden forest, exhausted, dirty, and forever changed.

She walked slowly toward the village, still unable to believe what had happened. Every few steps, she glanced at her reflection in puddles left behind by the night’s rain.

And every time she did, she stopped in disbelief. The face staring back at her was not the face she had known all her life.

The girl whom people mocked was gone. The girl more children laughed at was gone.

The girl who cried herself to sleep was gone. In her place stood a maiden so beautiful that even she struggled to recognize herself.

Then suddenly a terrible realization struck her heart. If she had become beautiful then the prophecy had come true.

And if the prophecy had come true there could only be one explanation. Grandmother was gone.

Olan stopped walking. The flower of reflections nearly slipped from her fingers. “No,” she whispered.

“No.” Tears streamed down her face. Not because she had become beautiful. Not because the curse had ended, but because the only person who had ever truly loved her was no longer alive.

She fell to her knees beneath the fading moonlight, crying, alone, broken. For years, she had listened to Olama’s strange words.

For years, she had wondered what secret her grandmother was hiding. And now, the old woman was gone.

Gone before she could explain. Gone before she could answer a thousand questions. Gone before she could tell her why.

Why was she cursed? Why did beauty return only now? What had happened before she was born?

And why had her grandmother carried such sadness in her eyes? The more Olan thought about it, the more mysterious everything became.

She had dreamed all her life of being beautiful. Yet now that beauty had come, it felt heavier than sorrow itself.

But she could not stop. Adiale’s life still hung between two worlds. The village remained asleep as Olan quietly entered through the eastern path.

The same villagers who once mocked her now slept peacefully behind their doors, unaware that Destiny had walked among them before sunrise.

Soon she arrived at Adiwali’s compound. The entire household was asleep. The guards who had stood watch throughout the night had finally surrendered to exhaustion.

Relatives who had spent hours praying for Adiwali’s recovery slept where they sat. Even the sevenths had collapsed from weariness.

No one saw Olan enter. No one saw her kneel. And no one saw her place the flower of reflections beside Adi’s doorway.

For a moment she simply stood there. The man she had loved for years was only a few steps away.

Yet he had never truly seen her, never known her, never understood the battle she fought in silence.

Slowly she placed the flower beside his door. Olan whispered softly. “Leave,” Adi, “That is all I ask.”

For a brief moment, she considered staying. Perhaps she could wait. Perhaps she could see him wake up.

But then she remembered her grandmother and the empty hut waiting for her. So she turned around and disappeared quietly into the fading darkness.

Moments later, the flower of reflections began to glow. Its silver petals slowly opened and a single drop of golden light drifted beneath Adi’s door.

Inside the room, Adiale’s fingers twitched. For the first time since falling into the coma, the lamps flickered.

The morning breeze stirred, and somewhere between life and death, Adal’s spirit began its journey home.

But Olan never saw it. She was already hurrying back toward her village on her way that another tragedy awaited her.

As the first rays of sunlight spread across Agum, Olanik hurried toward her family’s compound.

Her mind was troubled, her heart was heavy, and the questions surrounding her grandmother’s death refused to leave her thoughts.

Perhaps she was still alive. Perhaps the prophecy meant something else. Perhaps there was still time to hear the truth.

Clutching her wrapper tightly around herself, Olaniki quickened her piece. But then something caught her attention.

A dark cloud of smoke. Rising into the morning sky. At first, she ignored it.

Many villagers burned weeds before planting season, but the closer she came, the more familiar the direction became.

Suddenly, her heart skipped. The smoke was coming from her family’s farmland. Sh. No. She broke into a run faster and faster until she reached the hill overlooking the vast family farms.

Then she then she froze. Fire everywhere. The rich farmlands that had fed her family for generations were burning.

Flames danced wildly across the fields. The harvest was being consumed before the eyes of helpless villagers.

Women cried. Men shouted. Children ran carrying buckets of water. But nothing worked. The fire only grew stronger.

The yam bands are gone. The cava fields too. Everything is burning. Olan staggered backward, unable to speak.

Then her gaze drifted toward the cattle fields, and what she saw there nearly stopped her heart.

The family’s prized cattle lay scattered across the earth, motionless, silent, gone. Dozens of them.

The same cattle her cousins often bragged about. The same cattle that had made their family the envy of seven villages.

All lost in a single night. A cold chill traveled down Olan’s spine. And then the voice of the goddess echoed inside her mind.

Your family has lost all its wealth this day for your beauty. Olan’s knees weakened.

The goddess had spoken the truth. The curse had ended and the price was being collected.

For the first time, Olan understood every piece of gold, every fertile field, every healthy animal, every luxury her family enjoyed had been purchased with her suffering.

And now the debt had come due. Wo. They see the shadow, not the sun inside.

But this family’s light has a hidden price. For the wealth they see and the gold they [music and singing] hold.

A sacrifice was made. A story never told. This heavy crown of sorrow I must bear because I am the chosen one.

Chosen one. Suddenly fear gripped her heart. What would happen if they saw her now?

What if they connected her beauty to their loss? What if they blamed her for everything?

What if they hated her even more? Panic overwhelmed her. Without another thought, she turned and ran.

She ran past the burning farms, past the frightened villages, past the market square, past the village well.

She ran until her legs could carry her no more. And when she finally stopped, she found herself standing before the oldest cemetery in all of Aguni.

The cemetery of ancestors. A place where forgotten kings slept beneath the earth. A place where ancient warriors rested.

A place most villagers avoided after sunset. The iron gates creaked softly in the morning breeze.

Olan looked behind her. No one had followed. No one knew where she was. And for the first time since her transformation, she felt safe.

Safe from questions, safe from blame, safe from the eyes of the world. Slowly she stepped through the gates.

Little did Olan know that before the sun would set that very day, the entire village would be searching for her.

And before another week passed, the seven villages would begin whispering about a mysterious meeting seen among the graves.

A meeting so beautiful that some believed she was a spirit. Others believed she was a goddess.

And a few claimed she was an omen. But none of them knew the truth.

The beautiful stranger hidden among the tombstones was the same they had mocked all her life.

They see the shadow, not the sun inside. But this family’s light has a hidden price for the wealth they see and the gold they hold.

A sacrifice was made, a story never told. This heavy crown of sorrow I must bear because I am the chosen one.

Chosen one.