Silence followed the messenger's words.
No one spoke.
The wind itself seemed to pause.
The spirit of Afia Serwaa had appeared beside the boy in the river.
King Aldean slowly turned to King Owusu.
The time had come.
The Bride Price
The following morning, the palace courtyard was quiet.
Only a small group was allowed to go.
The Supreme King, King Aldean.
King Owusu.
A few council elders.
The palace guards.
And the two chief priests.
They returned to the compound of Nana Kwaku Bediako, the father of Afia Serwaa.
The old man and the elders were already waiting.
The air felt heavy.
Sacred.
Okomfo Dapaah, the priest from Afia Serwaa's lineage, stepped forward and handed a long scroll to the kings.
"This is the bride price list," he said calmly.
The palace elders opened it.
Their eyes widened.
Gold.
Cattle.
Royal cloths.
Jewelry.
Palm oil.
Sacred drinks.
Rare beads.
Traditional marriage items.
And money.
The total value ran into billions of cedis.
Even some elders exchanged shocked glances.
But King Owusu did not hesitate.
He stood slowly.
"I will pay everything," he said quietly.
No one argued.
Servants immediately began bringing the items.
Boxes of gold.
Royal kente cloth.
Livestock.
Precious beads.
Heavy bags of money.
Everything on the list was placed before the family elders.
When the last item was placed down, Okomfo Dapaah nodded slowly.
"The marriage may begin."
The courtyard fell silent.
The two chief priests stepped forward.
King Owusu stood in the center, exactly the way a groom stands at a wedding.
But there was no bride beside him.
At least…
Not one the people could see.
The palace chief priest lifted his staff.
He began chanting.
Ancient words filled the air.
Words that called the living and the dead together.
The wind moved gently.
Then suddenly—
The priest's eyes widened.
"She is here," he said quietly.
The elders murmured.
"The spirit of Afia Serwaa has arrived."
Only the priest could see her.
He continued chanting.
Then he spoke again softly.
"She is crying."
Akosua broke down immediately.
Her body shook with tears.
Mama Abena held her tightly.
"Be strong, my child," she whispered.
The priest guided King Owusu through the marriage rituals.
"Stretch your hand," he said.
King Owusu stretched his hand forward.
Though he could see nothing, the priest nodded.
"She has accepted."
"Now greet your bride."
King Owusu bowed slightly.
The priest smiled faintly.
"She bows back."
Then came the strangest moment.
"Dance with your wife."
The elders held their breath.
Slowly, King Owusu moved his feet in the traditional marriage dance.
He danced with the spirit he could not see.
The priest watched carefully.
Then he spoke again.
"She is dancing with him."
The air felt strangely warm.
The priest's voice softened.
"She is happy."
Akosua cried harder.
"She forgives," the priest continued.
At last, the priest lifted his staff.
"The marriage is complete."
A long breath moved through the courtyard.
Afia Serwaa was now officially a wife of the king.
The Royal Burial
The next ritual began immediately.
They traveled to the forest clearing where Afia Serwaa had been murdered twenty years ago.
The two men who confessed had described the place clearly.
When they arrived, the air felt cold.
The chief priests knelt and collected sand from the ground.
"This is where her blood touched the earth," Okomfo Dapaah said.
The sacred sand was placed inside a calabash.
Then the entire procession returned to King Owusu's palace.
The royal burial began.
In Ghanaian tradition, a royal burial is not done quietly.
It is a grand ceremony.
A farewell of honor.
Drummers arrived.
Talking drums echoed through the palace grounds.
Traditional horns blew deeply.
All the kings arrived dressed in black royal cloth.
The elders also wore black.
Even the palace guards wore mourning bands.
Queen Owusu was not present.
She was still in the royal hospital recovering from the river's attack.
Princess Adjoa had been forbidden from attending.
The palace courtyard was filled with people.
Food was prepared for guests.
Traditional drinks were poured.
But the mood remained heavy.
A beautiful coffin covered with royal kente cloth was placed in the center.
Inside it was the sacred sand taken from the place where she died.
Because her body had never been recovered.
The chief priests stood beside it chanting prayers.
Akosua stood near the coffin.
Her body trembled.
Kofi stood beside her, holding her gently.
Each time tears fell, he wiped them softly from her face.
Mama Abena and Madam Esi stood behind them.
Drums beat slowly.
The rhythm of mourning.
One by one, elders stepped forward to pay their last respect.
Then both chief priests suddenly lifted their heads.
They looked toward the open courtyard.
Their eyes widened.
"She is here," the palace priest whispered.
"The spirit of Afia Serwaa has arrived."
Okomfo Dapaah nodded slowly.
"Yes."
The crowd could not see her.
But the priests watched carefully.
Their expressions slowly softened.
"She is smiling," Okomfo Dapaah said quietly.
"She is no longer angry."
The palace priest nodded.
"She has dropped the weapons she carried."
The elders murmured quietly.
The priests continued watching.
"She is dancing," one of them said.
"Dancing with joy."
The spirit had accepted the burial.
The drums began beating louder.
Guests began dancing slowly.
Food was served.
The palace courtyard filled with music and conversation.
Then suddenly—
A loud shout came from the palace gate.
"Look!"
Everyone turned.
A small crowd was gathering near the entrance.
Voices rose in confusion.
Then someone shouted again.
"Look there!"
People rushed toward the gate.
King Aldean stood immediately.
King Owusu also rose.
The elders followed quickly.
When they reached the gate—
The entire courtyard froze.
Two figures were standing there.
A teenage boy.
And a woman beside him.
The boy looked wet from river water.
But he stood strong.
Alive.
His face looked exactly like someone standing in the courtyard.
Akosua.
They were identical.
No one needed to say a word.
It was her twin brother.
Standing beside him was the woman who had raised him.
Ama Serwaa.
For one long moment, the world became silent.
Then Akosua screamed.
"My brother!"
She ran forward.
The boy ran toward her too.
They collided in a tight embrace.
Both of them cried loudly.
Twenty years of separation breaking in one moment.
King Owusu slowly stepped forward.
His hands trembled.
His son.
His lost son.
The kings all stood in silence watching the twins.
King Aldean slowly rose to his feet.
Then the other kings stood too.
A royal recognition.
Ama Serwaa stepped forward.
She placed a protective hand on the boy's shoulder.
Her voice carried across the silent courtyard.
"For twenty years," she said slowly, "this child lived in hiding."
The elders leaned forward.
"For twenty years he did not know the truth of his blood."
Akosua held his arm tightly.
Tears still ran down her face.
Ama Serwaa lifted her chin.
Then she spoke clearly.
"This child is the son of King Owusu."
Gasps spread across the courtyard.
"The second child of Afia Serwaa."
She rested her hand firmly on the boy's shoulder.
"And his name…"
Her voice rang clearly.
"…is Kwabena Owusu.
Silence swallowed the palace courtyard.
The lost prince had returned.
And nothing in the palace would ever remain the same again.
To be continued…