Poor Boy Marries 50yr Old Muscular Slay Queen, 5 Days Later He Discovers Her Secret | PART 2

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Poor Boy Marries 50-Year-Old Muscular Slay Queen, 5 Days Later He Discovers Her Secret | PART 2

Emma’s heart pounded as he fled Amora’s mansion, clutching her phone—a device filled with hidden photos that revealed her dark secret. He ran through moonlit halls and into the cool night, desperate to escape the horror he’d uncovered. By dawn, Emma reached his aunt’s humble home and showed her the proof. Together, they hurried to the police station, hope and fear mingling in their hearts.

Inside the Lagos Police Division, Aunt Cyu pleaded with Detective Ephini, showing him the disturbing images of children in pain. But the detective’s hands were tied. “Without bodies or missing child reports, these photos aren’t enough,” he said. Emma’s frustration boiled over, but all they could do was leave, clutching Amora’s phone and each other. “We will find help,” Aunt Cyu promised, her voice fierce despite her exhaustion.

The city buzzed as they walked home, Emma’s mind haunted by the children’s faces. At a toy shop window, he caught a glimpse of a pale, wide-eyed girl’s reflection—a silent cry frozen in glass. Aunt Cyu saw nothing, but Emma felt a chill crawl up his spine. He knew the spirits behind Amora’s mirror were not at rest.

Back home, as Emma sat at lunch, the phone buzzed. He tapped the screen and saw a photo—a small girl’s face pressed against glass, eyes wide with fear, tiny handprints smeared beside her. Aunt Cyu gasped, recognizing the supernatural message. “We must see Nenna, the herbalist,” she said. Emma hesitated, but his aunt was resolute. They packed water, snacks, and herbs, then set out for the forest’s edge.

Nenna’s hut stood in a clearing, surrounded by charms and ribbons. The old woman greeted them, her eyes bright and knowing. “Show me the phone,” she said. As she examined the photos, Nenna explained, “These children are trapped between worlds. They need memories to find peace.” Emma recalled the girl’s laughter on a tire swing and the boy’s love for red apples. With Nenna’s guidance, Emma and Aunt Cyu performed a ritual, chanting and offering memories. A gentle wind swept through the clearing, and the phone fell silent. “The children walk on now,” Nenna said, “but many shards remain.”

Nenna showed them a map marked with places where mirror shards might hide—a tea house, an abandoned school, the river ford. She gave Emma seeds that would glow near mirror glass, wooden wands wrapped in holy cloth, and herbs for protection. “You must free them all,” she warned. Emma accepted the quest, his courage growing as he practiced the chant that would guide lost souls home.

The next day, Emma and Aunt Cyu set out for the old tea house. In the overgrown garden, Emma’s seed pouch trembled near a pile of dirt. Digging, he found a glowing shard, pressed herbs onto it, and carried it back to Nenna. Placing it in the silver bowl, a mist rose—a child’s face, smiling, then fading. “One more free,” Aunt Cyu whispered.

Their journey continued at the abandoned school by the river. Emma crawled beneath the floorboards, found a shard, and cut his finger. He pressed herbs to the wound, then brought the shard to Nenna. Another soul was freed, a boy waving goodbye. “Two freed,” Nenna said, pride and sorrow in her voice.

But Amora was not gone. The radio crackled with news: she had survived the mansion’s collapse and was under guard at Riverbend Hospital, her mind sharp with anger. Emma saw her in the market, her face older but eyes burning with rage. Aunt Cyu urged caution. “She will hunt you,” she said.

At the clinic, Emma encountered Amora. Her grip was cold as she whispered, “I want to finish this.” Aunt Cyu rescued him, but Emma knew Amora wouldn’t stop. They hid in a friend’s guest room, where Aunt Cyu poured water into the silver bowl. Emma saw Amora’s face in the ripples—a faint handprint pressed from behind. “Her shard must be near,” Aunt Cyu said. “We must draw her away.”

Nenna prepared a ritual for the full moon in the sacred grove. She boiled roots for strength, added cassia leaves for binding, and taught them a chant for protection. Emma poured the glowing water into the silver bowl, watched mist shaped like children’s hands drift away, and felt pride and sorrow mingle. “Four left,” Nenna said. “Tomorrow night, you will free the last souls.”

Under the full moon, Emma and Aunt Cyu entered the circle of stones. Amora appeared, clutching a pendant made of mirror shards. “Give me back those shards,” she demanded. Emma stood firm. “They belong to the children.” A battle of chants and wands began, Amora’s power clashing with their ritual.

Emma hurled a shard into the fire pit, chanting for the children’s memory. Flames roared, Amora staggered, her pendant flashing. Aunt Cyu threw another shard, invoking the swing and the apple. Amora screamed, flinging her pendant at Emma. He caught it, cut his hand, but pressed herbs to the wound and threw another shard into the fire. The flames leapt, the wind howled, and Amora’s power broke.

One by one, Emma and Aunt Cyu freed the last souls, each shard thrown into the fire pit, each memory spoken aloud. Amora collapsed, her cloak slipping off, her body frail and defeated. Emma placed the pendant’s dust into the silver bowl, watched it shimmer and dissolve. “Rest now, children. You are free,” he whispered.

As dawn broke, Emma and Aunt Cyu walked home, their hearts light and brave. Nenna greeted them with a smile. “Tonight, the children’s spirits will fade into morning light.” Emma thanked her, feeling hope bloom in his chest. At home, Aunt Cyu served pap and honey. Emma declared, “I want to go back to school.” His aunt promised to speak to the teacher.

As Emma dressed in his school uniform, he found a single shard of mirror on his pillow. He showed it to Aunt Cyu, who tucked it into a cloth pouch. “Some dangers linger,” she said. “But now you know how to find them.” Emma felt ready for whatever came next. “You taught me courage,” he said.

Outside, the sun rose, the street thrummed with life. Emma and Aunt Cyu walked hand in hand toward the school, the pouch safe in her pocket. The first bird song rose behind them—a promise of new beginnings and the gentle reminder that some shadows never fade entirely.

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