EBIERE: BRIDE OF THE RIVER
By Prince Agbedeyi O. D, Asaba, Delta|Edited By Seigha Dora Ayedi, Italy for Egbema Egberi Media International
The creek shimmered in the late afternoon sun, casting long reflections of mangrove roots and sacred totems tied with red cloth. Ebiere, the high priestess of Opu-Ere — the river goddess — stood barefoot at the edge of the water, her eyes closed, body swaying gently to the chants of the wind.
Men bowed when they saw her. Women whispered.
She was not just beautiful. She was the river’s voice.
Chosen from birth, trained in sacred arts, forbidden to marry, yet worshipped by all. The river gave her dreams, visions, and commands. And in return, she gave it loyalty.
Until he came.
Omatseye.
A stranger. A soldier from a rival kingdom. Sent to spy. Sent to deceive. But the first time he looked into her eyes, he forgot his orders.
And the first time she saw him bathe in the creek, unknowing she watched, she forgot her vows.
Their meetings began by accident. Then by desire. Then by destiny.
Ebiere sat with her feet dipped in the creek, eyes searching the ripples for answers. She had stopped hearing the goddess in her dreams. A silence that frightened her more than thunder.
Omatseye emerged from the mist, shirtless, eyes wild.
"I have to leave," he said. "My people suspect. But I can't go without you."
She turned to him, tears threatening to break.
"If we run, we defy the goddess. She will not forgive."
"Then let her curse me," he said, gripping her hands. "I will carry it. All of it. For you."
The water around them darkened. Frogs silenced. The wind dropped.
And in the center of the river, a shape began to rise.
The river had heard.
The moon was thin, like a blade.
They met one last time beneath the canoe tree. She wore a red thread around her wrist, a charm to ward off the goddess's rage. But it pulsed hot against her skin.
Omatseye begged, "Run with me. We will find peace beyond these waters."
But before she could answer, the creek began to bubble. The air smelled of lightning.
A figure rose from the river — water and shadow and wrath.
Opu-Ere.
"You were mine, River Bride," she thundered. "You gave your heart to fire. Now, I take it back."
Ebiere cried out, but the goddess struck.
Omatseye jumped forward, shielding her.
They vanished beneath the water.
Two lovers. Two sacrifices.
And the river kept their story.
Tari Omatseye didn't like water. Yet for three months, he had dreamed of a woman by a river, calling his name.
"Ebiere," she whispered in dreams. "Don't forget."
After waking to soaked sheets and phantom voices, Tari searched the archives of Egbema. He found a drawing of her — eyes like his dreams. Beside it, a charcoal note: "Bride of the River. Lost to the flood."
At the door of the archive stood a woman — jeans, coral beads, familiar eyes.
"You know me," she said.
"You're real?" he gasped.
She placed a shell in his hand. It pulsed warm. Then the world disappeared.
The past was awake.
Together, they returned by boat to where they once stood. The land was forgotten, the trees bowed in grief. There, they found the old canoe tree and the ruins of shrines.
A shell shattered in Tari’s hand, and visions returned. Their deaths. The sacrifice. The goddess’s curse.
That night, they performed the Ritual of Severance.
Ebiere spoke the ancient tongue:
"Opu-Ere, you took what was not yours. Set us free."
The goddess rose once more, a scream in the tide.
But Tari stepped forward.
"We choose love over eternity."
And with a final cry, the curse broke.
The river stilled.
They were free.
EPILOGUE: A NEW TIDE
The sun rose over the creek.
Ebiere and Tari sat hand in hand under the canoe tree. No gods watching. No curses chasing.
Just two souls, reunited.
She turned to him.
"What now?"
He smiled.
"Now we write the rest of the story ourselves."
The river laughed in the distance.
Not in mockery.
But in blessing.
📘 Story by: Prince Agbedeyi O.D.
✍️ Edited by: Seigha Dora Ayedi, Chief Editor of Heartfelt Matters
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