During the feast, Henry noticed Solomon's pale complexion, his eyes distant as if lost in thought. "She looks just like her," Solomon whispered, his mind consumed by Nahar's beauty.
Unaware of Henry's watchful gaze, Solomon's thoughts drifted to Nahar, captivated by her resemblance to the woman in his dream. The revelry surrounding him faded into the background as he envisioned Odumodu's darkness enveloping her.
Solomon's conscience wrestled with the urge to protect Nahar. He contemplated visiting her, hesitant to imagine Odumodu's cruelty. Henry, observing his brother from across the throne room, understood the turmoil brewing within Solomon.
Months ago, before Henry's marriage, Solomon had shared a vivid dream. He described a beautiful woman, and Henry now recognized the uncanny resemblance to Nahar. Pieces began falling into place.
Henry chose not to intervene, allowing Solomon to navigate his emotions. He recalled Solomon's words: "I saw a woman so captivating, yet shrouded in darkness. I felt an unshakeable connection, as if destiny bound us together."
Now, as Solomon's gaze drifted toward the dungeon, Henry remained silent. He knew Solomon had to confront his feelings alone, just as he had to reconcile the prophecy unfolding before them.
With resolve solidifying, Solomon rose from his seat, his path clear. He would visit Nahar, no matter the consequences. Henry's knowing gaze followed him, their unspoken understanding hanging in the air like a promise.
As Solomon departed, Henry's thoughts lingered on the prophecy and the mysterious threads weaving their lives together. The night had only just begun, and the fate of Nahar, Solomon, and Odumodu hung precariously in the balance.
Solomon descended the dungeon stairs, the darkness thickening around him like a shroud. He ignited the blue flame on his hand, casting flickering shadows on the cold stone walls. Memories long buried resurfaced, reminding him of the terror Odumodu instilled in him and Henry when they got lost in the dungeon as children.
Their frantic cries still echoed in his mind, but Solomon was no longer that frightened boy. Empowered by his growth, he pressed on, determination etched on his face.
As he approached the dungeon, a deep, raspy voice drifted through the corridors, singing:
"Sensational, abobi condition am, eh Willy-willy practitioner
This one nah senorita ahbi nah Mamacita?
Big kala need your bunda, pam am
If she no suck oo if she no fu..."
Odumodu's voice sent shivers down Nahar's spine. Her trembling betrayed her fear, as if she sensed someone's approach – a presence only she could detect. Solomon's presence was imminent.
The dungeon door creaked open, and Odumodu paused mid-lyric. He strode toward the entrance, curiosity etched on his face, his massive frame looming in the shadows.
King Solomon stepped into the dungeon, blue flames dancing around his right arm. The sudden brightness illuminated the dark space, casting an otherworldly glow on Nahar's captive form.
Odumodu's gaze locked onto Solomon, his expression unreadable. Nahar's eyes, however, sparkled with a mix of relief and trepidation. She sensed Solomon's purpose, but uncertainty clouded her thoughts.
Solomon's presence commanded attention, his flaming arm casting an eerie glow on the cold stone walls. The air thickened with tension as Odumodu's grin twisted into a snarl.
"What brings you here, King Solomon?" Odumodu's voice dripped with malice, his tone a challenge.
Solomon's eyes locked onto Nahar, his jaw set. "I've come for her," he declared, his voice firm and resolute.
Odumodu chuckled, the sound like thunder in the confined space. "You think you can take her from me? I've claimed her, body and soul."
Solomon's gaze never wavered. "You've claimed nothing but darkness and fear. I would like to have a word with her."
Nahar's heart pounded, her fate hanging in the balance. Would Solomon torture her too or would Odumodu's malevolence prevail?