Chapter 1
Episode 1 .The Princess Who Was Already Dying
The palace smelled of incense, burnt herbs, and fear.
Princess Adéọlá had not opened her eyes in seven days.
The royal chamber remained dim even during daylight, heavy curtains blocking the sun as if the room itself no longer welcomed light. Clay bowls filled with smoking herbs lined the walls. Sacred chalk markings covered the floor. Babalawos whispered prayers beneath trembling breaths.
None of it worked.
Adéọlá lay motionless on the carved ivory bed, her once radiant skin now pale beneath twisting black veins that crawled slowly from her chest toward her throat.
Like roots growing beneath flesh.
Queen mothers wept quietly in corners.
Servants avoided looking directly at her.
Some already believed death stood beside the princess, waiting patiently.
At the foot of the bed stood Prince Bàbátúndé.
Her uncle.
His richly embroidered agbádá flowed like dark water as he watched silently. His face wore sorrow perfectly—but his eyes betrayed something colder.
Expectation.
One elderly babalawo stepped forward shakily, sweat dripping down his face.
“She is fading,” he whispered.
Bàbátúndé lowered his head slowly, pretending grief.
“Can nothing be done?”
The old man hesitated before answering.
“The curse is… unnatural.”
A ripple of fear spread through the room.
No one spoke after that.
Because everyone understood what it meant.
This was no ordinary sickness.
Bàbátúndé turned slowly toward the windows overlooking the kingdom beyond the palace walls.
The drums outside had already changed rhythm.
Funeral rhythm.
His lips almost curved into a smile.
Almost.
Suddenly—
Adéọlá gasped.
The room froze.
Her body arched violently as black veins pulsed beneath her skin. The candles flickered wildly. Several servants screamed and stumbled backward.
Then her eyes opened.
Pitch black.
A voice escaped her lips—
Not entirely her own.
“He waits beneath the throne…”
The room turned ice cold.
The babalawos recoiled in terror.
Bàbátúndé’s expression tightened for the first time.
"Who speaks through you?” one priest whispered.
Adéọlá’s dark eyes shifted slowly toward her uncle.
And smiled.
Then her body collapsed back against the bed.
Still.
Silent.
One of the candles exploded.
The old babalawo fell to his knees immediately.
“We cannot save her.”
The words hit the room like thunder.
A servant began sobbing openly.
Another priest backed away toward the exit. “This darkness is forbidden. Even the orishas turn their faces from it.”
Murmurs spread rapidly.
He paused.
“…then the kingdom must prepare.”
Outside, thunder rolled across the distant sky.
And beneath the palace floor—
Something ancient moved..
