Goddess and the King

In the heart of Nigeria’s Taraba State, near the towering mountains that stood as silent sentinels, lay the land of Odumi. A place steeped in rich history, where the Odumic people lived in harmony with nature, their lives intertwined with age-old traditions and the watchful gaze of their guardian goddess.

This deity was unlike any other—a serene white cat with eyes as blue as the clearest sky. To the Odumic people, the white fur symbolized the tranquility they aspired to embody, while the deep blue eyes were a reflection of serenity, stability, inspiration, and wisdom. These dual elements were the essence of their goddess, guiding their lives and shaping their culture.

The heart of Odumi beat with the rhythm of craftsmanship. The Odumic people were renowned throughout the region for their exceptional skill in the arts. From delicate carvings to intricate weavings, their creations were a testament to their mastery. Artisans from neighboring villages embarked on journeys to Odumi, seeking to learn from these masters. The village’s reputation as a center of knowledge and talent had spread far and wide, and it was said that the wealth of Odumi was not only in gold and silver but also in the profound wisdom that flowed through their veins.

Yet, the Odumic people’s fame extended beyond their artistic talents. They were revered as formidable warriors, their prowess in battle unmatched. Their victories were etched into the annals of history, attributed in part to their unwavering adherence to two sacred laws. The first of these laws forbade them from consuming anything unclean. This rule had been steadfastly upheld, a testament to their dedication to their beliefs. The second law prohibited the unjust killing of slaves. These laws formed the pillars of their unity and strength, making them an indomitable force within the region.

Amidst the ever-turning wheel of seasons, one event stood as the cornerstone of Odumi’s cultural tapestry—the annual festival dedicated to their goddess. As the festival approached, a palpable sense of anticipation enveloped the land. It was a day unlike any other, a day when a profound hush fell over the village. The goddess’s law decreed that no outsider, no stranger, could set foot on their sacred soil during this time. Outsiders were compelled to find refuge within the homes of the Odumic people, lest they invoke the wrath of the goddess herself. It was on this day that the goddess would reveal herself, bestowing her blessings upon her faithful followers and safeguarding them from impending adversities.

However, destiny is a tapestry woven with intricate threads, and sometimes those threads take unexpected turns. The wheels of fate turned when King Omoto, a revered and beloved ruler, received an invitation from Pliro, the king of the neighboring village Pliroes. Omoto’s heart swelled with both curiosity and honor at this gesture of friendship.

Unbeknownst to Omoto, this invitation was a treacherous trap, a calculated scheme to lead him astray from the path laid out by their goddess. Pliro harbored envy and resentment toward Odumi’s prosperity, and he saw this as an opportunity to sow discord.

As King Omoto arrived in Pliroes, he was received with a facade of warmth and camaraderie. Pliro, a cunning strategist, had orchestrated an elaborate feast to ensnare Omoto. Plates filled with tantalizing delicacies were laid before him, a feast fit for a king. Unbeknownst to Omoto, however, the dishes contained a concoction of unclean meats, a direct violation of their sacred laws.

As Omoto partook in the feast, a subtle unease gnawed at his senses. He felt a dissonance, a discord between his actions and the teachings of their goddess. Pliro’s sly taunts cut through the air, revealing the truth behind the feast. Omoto had unwittingly consumed what was forbidden by their revered deity.

Tears welled in Omoto’s eyes as he departed from Pliroes. Regret and sorrow flooded his heart, a torrential downpour of emotions. The day of the festival, a day that should have been filled with joy and reverence, was now tainted by the weight of his transgression.

The village of Odumi bustled with activity as the festival preparations reached their crescendo. Dancers adorned in vibrant colors and intricate costumes rehearsed their steps, while elders clad in traditional garments assumed their revered positions. The streets, usually abuzz with life, were shrouded in an eerie silence, for the goddess’s law demanded that no stranger should be seen outdoors.

As the festival unfolded, the air was thick with the aroma of offerings and incense, a fragrant symphony that rose toward the heavens. The chief priest, cloaked in robes adorned with symbols of their goddess, raised his arms in invocation, his voice carrying the hopes and aspirations of the Odumic people.

But as the incantations reached their zenith, a disquieting stillness descended, shrouding the sacred space. It was a silence that reverberated through the hearts of the Odumic people, a silence that spoke of uncertainty and foreboding. For the first time in living memory, the goddess did not appear.

Confusion rippled through the assembly, and anxiety clung to the air like a heavy fog. The elders, their faces etched with concern, convened in urgent council. Hours turned into debates, theories and conjectures exchanged like the ebb and flow of a river’s current. Yet, no explanation seemed to suffice for the absence of their goddess.

Then, in the midst of this tumultuous uncertainty, a divine revelation pierced through the fog of confusion. In the sacred hour of silence, the voice of the goddess resonated within the mind of the chief priest. Her words were both a revelation and a chilling prophecy. The goddess declared that the impending calamity that loomed over Odumi could only be averted through a sacrifice—one that struck at the heart of their community.

The weight of this revelation bore down on the assembly like a heavy stone. King Omoto, known for his wisdom and dedication to his people’s prosperity, stepped forward. His gaze was steady, his heart resolute, as he confessed his unwitting transgression. Even kings, it seemed, were not exempt from the sacred laws that bound their lives.

The laws of the goddess demanded a sacrifice, and the Odumic people were no strangers to sacrifice. Their history was replete with stories of their ancestors’ devotion, stories that had been passed down through generations like precious heirlooms.

And so, with heavy hearts and tearful farewells, the Odumic people prepared for the ultimate sacrifice. The village square, usually a gathering place for celebrations, now stood as a solemn theater for the profound act that was to unfold.

As the sun dipped beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the land, King Omoto’s fate was sealed. The noose, a grim symbol of the goddess’s justice, tightened around his neck. The eyes of the Odumic people were filled with a mixture of sorrow, reverence, and a deep understanding of the significance of this sacrifice.

As the last breath left King Omoto’s body, a brilliant light illuminated the horizon. It was a light that seemed to emanate from within him, a testament to the sacrifice he had made on behalf of his people. The air was charged with a sense of awe and reverence as the goddess herself materialized before them.

Her form was resplendent, her eyes like twin sapphires that held the wisdom of the ages. Her fur, as white as freshly fallen snow, seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly radiance. She moved with a grace that transcended the earthly realm, her very presence a manifestation of the divine.

Silence enveloped the village square as the Odumic people gazed upon their goddess. It was a silence that held within it a multitude of emotions—gratitude, awe, and a deep sense of humility. The goddess’s words cascaded like a gentle waterfall, a melody that carried the promises of protection and prosperity for the faithful.

And then, as quickly as she had appeared, the goddess began to fade. The brilliance dimmed, the sapphire eyes grew distant, and the white fur seemed to blend with the moonlit night. The Odumic people watched, their hearts filled with a mixture of sadness and contentment. For they knew that their sacrifice had been acknowledged, their devotion recognized.

The chief priest lifted his voice, his words a hymn of gratitude and reverence. “None is comparable in beauty to you, oh great goddess,” he proclaimed. “You have never abandoned your people, and your wisdom shines as bright as the stars above.”

The Odumic people bowed, their heads touching the earth in a gesture of utmost respect. Their journey had been one of sacrifice, of unwavering devotion, and of a deep connection to the divine. The white cat with blue eyes had watched over them, guided them, and ultimately, had accepted the sacrifice that was offered from the heart.

As the goddess’s presence faded completely, a sense of peace settled over the land. The village square, once a stage for sacrifice, was now a sacred space imbued with the memory of that profound moment. The Odumic people would carry this memory forward, etching it into their hearts and passing it down to future generations.

The tale of the silent transgression would be recounted by storytellers and whispered by firesides. It would serve as a reminder of the intricate dance between tradition and change, between devotion and sacrifice. And as the years turned into decades, and the decades into centuries, the memory of that sacrifice would continue to shine like a beacon, a testament to the enduring bond between mortals and the divine.

Story by the author: Warrior’s Journey

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