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The Cursed Shrine

In the village of Ìrànjẹ́, there was no girl as admired as Fọlá. She was as radiant as the morning sun, with deep brown skin that glowed under the daylight and eyes that sparkled like the river under the moon. Her laughter carried through the village like a melody, and wherever she walked, heads turned. Fọlá was not only beautiful but also full of life. She moved with the grace of a gazelle, weaving baskets by the riverside with the other girls, yet she was just as quick to climb trees like the boys. She loved pounding yam in the evenings, her strong hands working the mortar as she sang. She was stubborn too, always challenging traditions, always asking questions, always seeking more. The young men of Ìrànjẹ́ adored her. Olákúnlé, the hunter, often brought her the biggest game from his hunts. Délé, the drummer, composed beats just for her, hoping she would dance only for him. But Fọlá, though she smiled at them, belonged to no one. She was wild like the wind, free like the river. Yet, ...
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Moonlight Whispers

Long ago, in the great kingdom of Ìlàárí, the full moon bathed the land in its soft glow, whispering secrets of love to those who dared to listen. Among those who listened was Adùnní, a humble palace maid, and Ọdẹ́wálé, the crown prince of the kingdom. Adùnní was the daughter of Bàbá Ògúnmọ̀lá, a well-respected herbalist in the village. Though poor, her kindness and beauty shone brighter than the wealthiest of noble daughters. Ọdẹ́wálé, the future king, was drawn to her gentle nature and unwavering spirit. Each night, when the palace fell silent, they met under the great ìrókò tree in the palace courtyard, where the moon bore witness to their forbidden love. “Ọdẹ́wálé, your mother will never accept me,” Adùnní whispered one night, worry clouding her bright eyes. “She will,” Ọdẹ́wálé assured her, holding her hands. “My love for you is stronger than any law or tradition.” But the queen, Olórí Àyìnkẹ́, had different plans. She wanted her son to marry a princess, a woman of noble birth who...
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Ìyá Ìlèkè and the Magic Bead

In a town called Aró, where birds spoke like men and animals patronized the women of Aró, there lived a kind-hearted woman known as Ìyá Ìlèkè. She was the most skilled bead maker in the land, crafting beads so fine that even queens adorned themselves with her creations. With her beautiful daughter, Àmòlé, Ìyá Ìlèkè traveled from village to village, selling beads of every color—deep blues like the night sky, fiery reds like the setting sun, and golden yellows like ripened corn. But their wealth was not in money; it was in kindness. No traveler left their stall hungry, and no thirsty man went without water. One day, at a bustling market, Àmòlé’s eyes caught a magnificent fabric—a shimmering cloth of deep purple and gold, fit for a princess. She ran her fingers over its smooth surface, longing to own it. But when she asked for the price, it was far beyond what she and her mother could afford. With a sigh, she walked away. That evening, as they rested beneath a large tree, Àmòlé absentmind...
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