Season 1, Episode 5 : The Mirror Of Umudim ( Nnenna ) The Forbidden River
The following day, Nnenna awoke feeling both protected and cursed. Her grandmother had not spoken another word since the marking, only watching her closely as if expecting something to happen.
At dawn, the village elders arrived. They had heard of the disturbance—the spirits had made themselves known. Such things had not occurred since the civil moon eclipse decades ago.
Elder Nwokeji, the oldest among them, demanded to see the parchment. When Nnenna handed it over, the symbols shifted before his eyes. He dropped it and whispered, “Ogbanje spirits are watching. This is beyond our reach.”
Later, while fetching water from the village stream, Nnenna overheard whispers. Girls her age had begun avoiding her. One muttered, “She walks with shadows now.” The other responded, “She brought something evil from the forest.”
Feeling rejected, Nnenna wandered deeper than usual. Her feet led her to the old path by the Mmiri Ojoo — the Forbidden River. No one dared go near it since it was said to swallow souls and speak in lost tongues.
As she approached, the trees grew silent. No birds chirped. No leaves rustled. Only the sound of flowing water remained—and even that felt unnatural, like a voice humming beneath the current.
She knelt by the water’s edge and looked into it. But instead of her reflection, she saw someone else—a girl who looked like her but whose eyes were completely white.
The water swirled. A cold breeze brushed her cheek. The ghostly reflection opened its mouth and whispered, “You must return it before the seventh night.”
Startled, Nnenna jumped back—but she slipped on the wet soil and fell into the river. Cold darkness surrounded her. Hands—many hands—grasped at her from beneath the surface.
Just as she began to lose breath, a burst of light came from her forehead—the protection symbol her grandmother had drawn. The spirits hissed and withdrew, and she floated to the surface, gasping.
She crawled back onto the bank, soaked and trembling. Behind her stood a figure. It was her grandmother, clutching a calabash, chanting softly in ancient tongue. “You are not ready, Nnenna.”
They walked home in silence. That night, Nnenna wrapped herself in a dry cloth, listening to the wind that now whispered her name.
Something had awakened. And it would not rest.
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To be continued...
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