The Price of Immortality

After losing her grandmother two months ago, Nadia lost her grandfather the previous night as well.

She had been an orphan since birth. Her parents had died years ago during a violent storm in the South Atlantic Ocean while fishing near Lagos. Since that night, Nadia had been raised by her grandparents, who became her entire world.

The three of them worked tirelessly to survive. They cultivated maize for their livelihood, though the land did not belong to them. They worked under a wealthy local farmer named Chief Adewale Ogunleye. He was known to be kind to them, but kindness could not stop time. Years of hard labour had slowly worn-down Nadia’s grandparents, and age eventually began to claim their strength.

Now Nadia was alone.

She sat inside the small room they once shared, surrounded by a strange and heavy silence. Every small sound seemed sharper in the empty space. The creak of wood, the distant whisper of wind, the faint rustling of loose objects all felt unsettling.

At times it almost seemed as if the house still remembered them.

The silence felt haunted with memories.

Yet Nadia was too broken to cry.

Her body trembled from exhaustion and hunger. She had barely eaten since her grandfather fell ill a few days ago. Grief had drained the strength from her, leaving her numb and hollow.

Memories crowded her mind. Her grandmother’s voice. Her grandfather’s-tired smile. The uncertain future waiting for her outside that quiet room.

Eventually the thoughts became too heavy to hold.

Her body, worn down by sorrow and fatigue, finally gave in and she drifted into a restless sleep.

When she woke, the dream still lingered vividly in her mind.

In the dream, her grandmother sat peacefully by the shore beside the mysterious woman Nadia had been seeing in her dreams for the past few nights. They were laughing together softly, as if they belonged to another world where pain and responsibilities no longer existed.

They looked peaceful.

Almost free.

The woman beside her grandmother was breathtaking.

Her long black hair looked wet, as though she had just emerged from the water. Golden jewellery shimmered across her body, reflecting faint light with a strange elegance. A snake rested around her neck, calm and unmoving.

There was something captivating about her presence.

Something powerful.

Something unsettling.

She looked like a goddess.

Each time Nadia had dreamed of this woman before, her face would fade from memory as soon as she woke up. But this time it remained clear in her mind, as if the dream had left a mark on her thoughts.

Outside, the night was still deep and silent. Fear slowly crept into Nadia’s chest. Sitting alone with these strange visions made the room feel even more suffocating.

She needed something to distract herself.

So she began searching through her grandmother’s old journals, hoping the familiar handwriting might bring some comfort.

There were many journals stacked together, their pages worn with age. One of them immediately caught her attention. A small note had been written carefully on its cover.

Nadia opened it.

On the first page was a letter addressed to her.

Dear Nadia,

If you are reading this, I must already be gone from your life. This journal contains truths about my past that I could never share while I was alive.

What you are about to read must remain a secret. Now that you are old enough to take my place, I ask you to swear that this secret will remain with you for the rest of your life.

Nadia’s heartbeat quickened.

What kind of secret needed such silence?

With slightly trembling hands, she turned the page.

Painted across the next page were the two women from her dream.

One of them was Mami Wata, the powerful spirit of the waters.

Beside her stood a woman.

Below the painting were the words:

Ngozi Okeke
The Chosen One

A woman blessed with the rare ability to receive messages from Mami Wata through dreams. Messages that carried warnings, fortune, and signs meant for the world of the living.

Nadia stared at the page in stunned silence.

The woman standing beside Mami Wata looked exactly like her grandmother.

She slowly turned the page.

The next several pages contained a long list of names. Beside each name was a description of illness, suffering, or personal misfortune. Some entries had a single word written beside them.

Healed.

As Nadia continued reading, a realization slowly formed in her mind.

Her grandmother had been a healer.

Each name was followed by careful notes describing the entire healing process. Herbal mixtures, prayers, and sacred rituals were described in detail. It became clear that these instructions had been written to guide Nadia, because one day she was meant to continue the work.

One rule appeared repeatedly throughout the journal.

The sacred rituals were performed only for those who carried no ill intentions. Only people who were pure and truly suffering could be healed.

Suddenly Nadia remembered something from her childhood.

Many nights her grandmother would quietly leave the house long after Nadia and her grandfather had fallen asleep.

Back then Nadia had never questioned it.

Now the memory felt different.

Her grandmother had been leaving to heal people in secret.

When Nadia reached the final page of the journal, she found only one sentence written there.

Go to the water and summon her.

Nadia’s heart began to race.

She could barely wait for morning. As soon as the first light of dawn appeared, she began her journey toward the Osun River.

Her thoughts moved restlessly the entire way. Fear and curiosity twisted together inside her chest. She was about to meet something supernatural, something that might finally reveal the true purpose of her life.

When she reached the riverbank, the wide river stretched out before her.

The water shimmered softly under the rising sun. Gentle waves splashed against the pebbles while small fish moved quickly through the clear shallows near her feet.

Nadia waited.

Minutes passed.

Then more.

Nothing happened.

Her excitement slowly faded into doubt. Feeling disappointed, she picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the river.

The water rippled.

Then suddenly the river began to move.

A large wave rose without warning, climbing higher and higher as if the river itself had awakened. The water surged toward Nadia, threatening to swallow her whole.

But just before it reached her, the wave stopped.

The water froze in place.

From within the towering wall of water, a figure slowly stepped forward.

A woman emerged.

Her eyes shone like reflected sunlight on water. Her beauty was mesmerizing, but there was something frightening in her calm presence. A large snake rested around her shoulders, watching Nadia silently.

It was Mami Wata.

Nadia stood frozen in place.

The spirit looked at her carefully.

“So you are the granddaughter of Ngozi,” she said.

Her voice sounded soft but carried the distant echo of deep waters.

“I believe you understand why you have come. Your grandmother was my devoted follower and dear companion. I would like her to remain with me as we continue our duties toward nature.”

A cold feeling spread through Nadia.

“What do you mean you want her to remain with you?” she asked nervously. “She is dead… isn’t she?”

Mami Wata’s expression suddenly changed.

“Did she not explain the sacrificial ritual to you?”

Nadia felt her stomach tighten.

“What ritual?”

The spirit’s voice became colder.

“Your grandmother’s body has been with me since the moment she died. I have been waiting for someone from her bloodline strong enough to replace her soul.”

The snake around her shoulders shifted slightly.

“Once your soul is offered, Ngozi will return to life.”

Nadia’s mind spun in confusion.

“No… no one told me about this,” she said, her voice shaking. “I came here believing I would take my grandmother’s place as a healer.”

She looked at the spirit in disbelief.

“But this is something completely different.”

In that moment, a terrifying truth began to settle in her mind.

The secret her grandmother had left behind was far darker than she had imagined.

And now she stood face to face with the ancient being who demanded her soul.

This was no ordinary ritual—it spoke of sacrificing a human life to bring another back from the dead. Even Mami Wata, the ancient water spirit, was proposing something that defied the very laws of nature.

Nadia’s thoughts spiraled. Her world had turned completely upside down. She no longer knew whom to trust or where to go. Worse still, she stood on the brink of death—without ever choosing it.

By the riverbank, Mami Wata sat in eerie calm, a mirror resting in her hand. She slowly combed her long, wet hair, each stroke deliberate. A shaft of sunlight broke through the trees, falling across her smooth, dark skin, making it shimmer like polished obsidian.

Then her voice shattered the stillness.

“Child!” she roared. “What are you waiting for? Will you not answer me? When shall we begin the ritual to bring back your grandmother? I was told you loved her more than anything in this world.”

Nadia’s breath caught.

Her mind raced back to the journal. Had she overlooked something? A hidden warning? A way out?

Had her grandmother written anything—anything at all—about escaping this fate?

Or was this the truth she had been avoiding?

Was she really willing to die… just to bring her grandmother back?

Why did the journal contain only the names of women?
And why was the word “healed” written beside each one—without a single detail to justify it?

Questions flooded Nadia’s mind all at once, each more unsettling than the last.

Gathering what little courage she had left, she lowered her gaze and spoke carefully.

“My apologies, Great Mother,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm within her. “I only ask for time… to find answers before the ritual is performed on me.”

For a brief moment, Mami Wata went still.

Then she turned her head, her eyes settling on Nadia with quiet intensity.

After a long, heavy pause, she spoke.

“Two days.”

Nadia’s chest tightened. Two days. How was she supposed to find answers in just two days?

Panic rose within her, but instinct took over. She turned and ran from the shore, her feet pounding against the ground as if the river itself might reach out and pull her back. There was only one place left to search. The journals.

Only there could the truth be hiding.

This was no longer just about survival. It was about something far greater. Her ancestors. Her purpose. The history that had been kept from her. Why had she been left in the dark when she should have known everything?

By the time she reached home, she was breathless. She barely paused at the doorway. Whatever she had been carrying slipped from her hands and fell to the floor, but she did not care.

She rushed straight to the journals.

Her fingers trembled as she opened the same book she had been reading the night before. At first, everything seemed the same. Names, neatly written, each followed by that same haunting word, healed.

Then something felt wrong.

Her eyes slowed. Focus sharpened.

The last hundred names were all women.

A cold realization crept in.

Why only women?

Her mind struggled to make sense of it. She flipped through the pages again, more carefully this time, scanning each name.

Then she froze.

Morayo Adeyemi.

She knew that name.

A memory surfaced. She had visited her just days before her grandmother died. Morayo had been kind, warm, completely ordinary.

Or so she had believed.

A new urgency surged through Nadia.

If the truth was not only in the journals, then it must be with the living.

The next morning, Nadia began her journey to Osogbo, where Morayo lived with her daughter. The road felt longer than it should have, each passing moment tightening the unease in her chest.

Morayo had been someone she trusted.

Now, Nadia was no longer sure.

But she knew one thing.

This time, she would not return without answers.

Nadia finally reached the house and knocked on the door. It looked exactly the same as the last time she had visited. Nothing had changed, yet everything felt different.

She waited.

No response.

A knot formed in her stomach. She knocked again, harder this time. The sound echoed in the stillness, and after a few tense moments, she heard footsteps approaching from inside.

Relief washed over her, brief and fragile.

The door opened.

It was Adetola, Morayo’s daughter. Her only friend.

They stood there in silence, staring at each other. Something in Adetola’s eyes felt wrong. Cold. Distant.

Before Nadia could speak, the door slammed shut in her face.

Nadia stepped back, her heart racing.

Something was terribly wrong.

She knocked again, more urgently this time.

“Please open the door, Adetola,” she called out, her voice trembling. “My life is at stake. Only you can help me.”

A pause followed.

Then Adetola’s voice came from behind the door, sharp and filled with fear.

“Go away.”

Nadia froze.

“Your grandmother killed my mother,” Adetola continued. “And you will kill me too. Just like her. That is why you are here.”

The words hit Nadia like a blow.

Her mind went blank. Everything she believed, everything she thought she knew, began to unravel.

Silence fell.

After a moment, the door creaked open again. Adetola stepped out cautiously, as if expecting Nadia to be gone.

But she wasn’t.

Nadia lay on the ground, barely conscious, her body giving in to the shock.

Adetola’s expression shifted instantly. Panic replaced anger.

She rushed forward, lifting Nadia and pulling her inside. She splashed water on her face, her hands trembling, then held a cup to her lips.

“Drink.”

After a few moments, Nadia’s eyes fluttered open. Her breathing steadied, and the world slowly came back into focus.

She looked at Adetola, confusion and fear filling her gaze.

“What do you mean,” she whispered, “my grandmother killed your mother?”

Adetola’s jaw tightened, her anger rising again.

“You really don’t know, do you?” she said. “Your grandmother… she killed half the women in this village.”

Nadia stared at her, unable to speak.

“You need to leave,” Adetola continued, her voice urgent now. “Before anyone sees you. I believe you are innocent, but that will not matter to them.”

She stepped closer, her tone dropping to a whisper.

“They will kill you.”

A heavy silence settled between them.

“Go,” Adetola said. “Before sunset. Please… just go.”

Nadia refused to leave.

She stood her ground, her eyes fixed on Adetola, determination outweighing fear. She had come too far to turn back now. Whatever the truth was, she needed to hear it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said quietly. “Not until I understand what’s really happening.”

Adetola hesitated.

For a moment, it seemed like she would argue again. But something in Nadia’s expression shifted her. The anger in her eyes softened, replaced by something closer to pity.

She let out a slow breath.

“Fine,” she said. “Then listen carefully.”

Nadia nodded, her heart pounding.

“We all knew what your grandmother was,” Adetola began. “She was a healer. People trusted her. They believed in her.”

Her voice grew heavier with each word.

“One day, she came to our house alone. She said she was sick… that her time was almost over. She told us she wanted to heal everyone she could before she died.”

Nadia’s chest tightened.

“My mother…” Adetola continued, her voice faltering slightly, “she couldn’t walk properly. She had been like that for years. But she was strong. Stronger than anyone I knew.”

She looked down, as if reliving the memory.

“We never thought she could walk again. But your grandmother…” she paused, swallowing hard, “she promised she could.”

Nadia felt a chill run through her.

“So we believed her,” Adetola said. “We had no reason not to.”

Her gaze lifted, meeting Nadia’s.

“The ritual was planned for the next day. Your grandmother gave us a list of everything we needed. Herbs, offerings, things we didn’t even question.”

A brief silence followed.

“We made sure everything was ready,” she said quietly. “Every single thing she asked for.”

Her voice dropped, almost to a whisper.

“We thought we were preparing for a miracle.”

“But when the ritual began,” Adetola said, her voice trembling, “my mother started screaming.”

She paused, as if the memory itself was too heavy to carry.

“It was not the kind of pain you see when someone is being healed. It was… something else. Like something was being taken from her.”

Nadia felt her breath grow shallow.

“I saw it,” Adetola continued. “Your grandmother had a stone with her. Brown. Shiny. The kind you often find along the riverbanks. At first, I thought it was just part of the ritual.”

Her eyes hardened.

“But it was not ordinary.”

Nadia leaned forward slightly.

“What do you mean?”

Adetola swallowed.

“She was using it,” she said. “Drawing something out of my mother. I could feel it, even from where I stood. It was like the air itself had changed.”

A silence fell between them.

“That stone,” Adetola whispered, “she called it the Ìyọkúrò stone.”

Nadia’s heart skipped.

“Extraction,” she murmured.

Adetola nodded slowly.

“She said it was ancient. That it came from a sacred text, the Kebra Nagast. I did not understand it then. I only knew… whatever she was doing, it was not healing.”

Her voice broke slightly.

“My mother died the very next day.”

The room grew unbearably still.

“And she was not the only one,” Adetola added. “Your grandmother did this to many women. She convinced them. Gave them hope. Promised them healing.”

Her gaze met Nadia’s, filled with anger and sorrow.

“But nothing could save her in the end.”

That sentence lingered.

Something shifted inside Nadia.

A realization, slow and terrifying, began to take shape.

Her grandmother had been dying.

And when death came close enough, she must have understood something.

Something desperate.

Something forbidden.

Nadia’s mind raced.

If the stone could extract life… then it could also transfer it.

Her pulse quickened.

Immortality.

But not for just anyone.

Only for someone of the same blood.

Her.

A chill ran down her spine.

The dreams.

They had felt so real. So deliberate. Like a call.

But what if they were never from Mami Wata at all?

What if…

They were her grandmother’s doing?

Placed carefully, before her death. Guiding her. Leading her back to the journal. To the truth. And finally… to the river.

To Mami Wata.

Nadia’s lips parted slightly as the final thought settled in.

This had never been a coincidence.

She had been chosen.

Prepared.

Now she knew what she had to do.

The stone had to be destroyed.

Without the Ìyọkúrò stone, no soul could be extracted. No ritual could be completed. No life could be taken in the name of healing.

That was the only way to end it.

Nadia looked at Adetola, her expression firm despite the fear still lingering within her.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

And then she ran.

By the time she reached home, the sun had already begun its slow descent. She did not waste a second.

She searched everywhere.

Drawers, shelves, beneath old furniture, inside forgotten boxes. She pulled out books, flipped through brittle pages, scanned every line that might mention the stone. Dust filled the air, time slipped away, and exhaustion began to creep in.

But there was nothing.

No clue. No sign.

The house felt empty. Too empty.

Nadia sank to the floor, her thoughts racing.

Then something clicked.

If her grandmother had been able to summon the stone… then someone of her bloodline should be able to do the same.

Her.

Slowly, she closed her eyes.

She steadied her breathing and let everything else fade. The fear. The noise. The doubt.

She focused only on one thing.

The stone.

Its weight. Its texture. Its pull.

At first, there was nothing.

Then—

A faint sensation.

A direction.

Her eyes snapped open.

The backyard.

She rushed outside, her heart pounding as she reached the spot where her grandmother used to sit for her chants. The ground there felt different somehow, as if it had been disturbed long ago and then forgotten.

Without hesitation, she began to dig.

The soil was stubborn. Her hands grew sore, her nails filled with dirt, and sweat ran down her face. Time blurred into effort, into desperation.

But she did not stop.

She could not.

After what felt like hours, her fingers struck something solid.

She froze.

Slowly, she cleared the remaining soil away.

There it was.

A brown, polished stone, faintly gleaming even beneath the dirt.

The Ìyọkúrò stone.

Nadia lifted it carefully.

The moment it touched her skin, it pulsed.

A dim glow flickered across its surface, alive in a way that made her stomach turn. It felt… aware.

Hungry.

A sudden wave of weakness washed over her. Her grip tightened instinctively, but she could feel it pulling at her, as if testing her strength, tasting her life.

She gasped and quickly set it down.

Her hands trembled.

This was no ordinary object.

It wanted something.

Nadia picked it up again, more cautiously this time, and carried it inside. She placed it in her bedroom, keeping her distance as if it might move on its own.

Her mind raced.

Finding it was only the beginning.

Now she had to figure out how to destroy it.

Before it took anything from her.

Turning the fragile pages of the Kebra Nagast, Nadia finally understood one crucial truth.

What was created through power could only be undone by a greater power.

By a deity.

There was only one she could turn to.

She returned to the river. It was the third day, the final day. The air felt heavier than before, as if the river itself was aware of what was about to unfold. Nadia stood at the shore, the Ìyọkúrò stone clutched tightly in her hand, its faint glow pulsing against her skin.

She did not move. She waited.

Moments passed.

Then the water stirred.

From its depths, Mami Wata emerged once more. Her form was as mesmerizing as it was terrifying. Water cascaded down her body, shimmering under the light, and a great yellow python coiled around her arms like a living ornament, its scales gleaming.

Her eyes settled on Nadia.

“So,” she said, her voice calm yet commanding, “what have you decided, child?”

Nadia took a slow breath. This time, she did not lower her gaze.

“Great Mother,” she began, her voice steady despite the fear rising within her, “I have searched for the truth.”

She lifted the stone slightly.

“I know what this is.”

A brief silence followed.

“My grandmother,” Nadia continued, her throat tightening, “she was not healing people. She was taking from them. Their life. Their souls. Storing them in this stone to keep herself alive.”

The river seemed to grow quieter.

Nadia’s grip tightened.

“But you,” she said, her eyes fixed on Mami Wata, “you are a guardian. A force of balance. A healer.”

Her voice sharpened, courage pushing through fear.

“How could you allow this?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and dangerous.

Mami Wata had expected this question from Ngozi’s granddaughter.

She did not look surprised.

“I did not allow it,” she said calmly. “I simply did not stop it. The world survives on balance. Humans make their choices, and we do not interfere in them.”

Her gaze deepened.

“Your grandmother was a healer. That role must always be filled, so my devotees do not suffer. But Ngozi broke the sacred laws. And every broken law carries consequences.”

The river grew still.

“So here is your choice,” Mami Wata continued.

“You may take her place. Become the healer. Restore balance. But your grandmother’s soul will suffer for one hundred lifetimes, for the hundred lives she took.”

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle.

“Or… you may give your life. In doing so, you will free her soul from that suffering.”

Silence followed.

The kind that presses against your chest.

This was no longer about fear.

This was about truth. About justice. About what it meant to choose rightly.

Nadia stood there, the Ìyọkúrò stone heavy in her hand, its faint glow reflecting in her eyes. Her thoughts churned, her heart pulled in two directions.

Her grandmother… or countless innocent lives.

Time seemed to slow.

An hour passed like a lifetime.

And then, she understood.

If she gave her life, the cycle would not end. The hunger for immortality, the temptation of power, it would live on. Someone else would fall into it again.

But if she chose to become the healer… she could end it.

Not just for now.

But forever.

Nadia lifted her head.

“I will take her place,” she said.

Her voice was steady.

“I will not let anyone else suffer.”

A quiet satisfaction appeared on Mami Wata’s face.

“I expected nothing less,” she said. “You have chosen as a true healer should.”

Then, after a brief pause, she spoke again.

“As a reward for your selflessness, I will grant you what your grandmother could not earn.”

Her gaze shifted to the stone.

“In this moment, balance will be restored.”

The Ìyọkúrò stone began to glow intensely, its light no longer dark and hungry, but radiant and pure. It trembled in Nadia’s hands before rising into the air.

And then,

It shattered.

A soft burst of light spread across the river, like a breath finally released after being held for too long.

Nadia felt it.

The presence.

The souls.

Free.

Among them, something warm, something familiar, brushed past her like a final goodbye.

Her grandmother.

At peace.

Tears welled in Nadia’s eyes, but she did not cry.

For the first time, everything felt… right.

From that day forward, Nadia became what she was meant to be.

A healer.

Not one who takes, but one who protects. One who understands the weight of life and the cost of imbalance. She carried her role with wisdom, empathy, and strength, always choosing what was right over what was easy.

And sometimes, when the world grew quiet and the river called her name, she would return.

Not out of fear.

But to stand beside Mami Wata, no longer as a lost child,

But as a guardian of balance.