Okongwu Chiamaka Peace

As we dey post Contents don't forget your health.. Take Avacado o😋😋

Have You Wondered🤔 Anytime Nigerian Man Is Looking For A Girl He kept On Bearing Boys..Now What Happens If a Nigerian Woman Starts Looking For Boys😔?
Ewooooo

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How To Make $200 | $500 every month (No Coding) #PassiveIncome #SideHustle 💻 Want to make serious money from web design—even if you’re not a coding expert?In this video, I’ll show you how to:✅ Learn web design fast with tools like ...

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SET GOALS/TARGETS FOR YOURSELF You had better set out on your own path once you are in charge of your own career. That is what this chapter is meant to assist you with.

And I Decided To Post Today...
Guess What, I have been on a small project for story lovers and affiliate marketers even ghostwriters.. building a page for you guys to be part of, where you can get your contents and as well read some stories...

The page is 80% ready but I need to test-run and check to be sure there is no glitch. View the page using the url https://www.tradewize.com.ng/storytelling/

Meanwhile I have a small story I've posted there already, which I will drop a part of it here.. but you can view the full story on the page above https://www.tradeWize.com.ng/storytelling/

Title: RAJPUT
The Ashes of Kalyagarh

The sun over Kalyagarh bled into the horizon like a wound, casting long shadows from the domes and minarets of the ancient fortress. Bells rang from the Temple of Surya, echoing across the stone courtyards as priests lit the evening fire. From afar, the fortress appeared serene—majestic even. But within its walls, blood had not yet dried.

Arendra Rajput stood at the edge of the Inner Bastion, a place once sacred, now defiled. His hands were bruised, his knuckles cracked, and his blade—Vajranand, forged with meteorite and ancestral chants—dripped crimson. At his feet lay the last of the palace guards, loyal not to the kingdom but to the traitor who had ordered the massacre of Arendra’s bloodline.

He was no longer the Prince of Kalyagarh, no longer the scholar-warrior the sages called Sh*tuu in endearment. He was a fugitive of fate, cloaked in fire and grief, son of a slain king and bearer of a vengeance older than prophecy.

Arendra looked down at the body of General Bhimadatta, the man who had once taught him how to wield a spear. The betrayal was bitterer than poison. “Why?” he whispered, though he knew no answer would rise from that lifeless mouth.

The palace trembled behind him—columns cracked under the weight of rebellion, and a smoky haze wafted from the once-holy archives, now set ablaze. Somewhere within, the scriptures of his ancestors curled into ash.

He turned away.

There was no time for mourning.

The Oracle’s Warning
It had started seven days ago, during the festival of Ratha Mahotsav, when golden chariots paraded through the streets and petals rained from balconies. Arendra, still known as Sh*tuu then, had stood beside his father, King Vardhan Rajput, atop the Elephant Pavilion, waving at a people who adored him. The air had been filled with chants of “Jay Rajputana!” and the sky had smiled.

But beneath that smile, the serpent coiled.

That night, the stars went silent.

In the deepest sanctum of Tavistaan Monastery, where only truth dared to whisper, the oracle priestess Maarya, aged but unshaken, fell into a trance. Her voice rose like the howling of the desert wind.

“The lion’s blood shall soak the lotus.
The mountain will fall from within.
One heir shall be broken—
The other, reborn in flame.”

Arendra had laughed when his tutor shared the omen. He was the second-born, twin to Samrat, his elder brother by minutes but a world apart in spirit. Samrat was the flame—ambitious, charismatic, adored by generals. Arendra was the blade—disciplined, reserved, a master of texts and tactics.

They hadn’t spoken properly in months.

The Fall
By dawn, the screams began.

Samrat, in league with Lord Yashpal, the Prime Minister, had moved the southern garrisons into the city under the guise of a drill. In hours, they turned on the palace guard. By nightfall, the Hall of Ancestors was awash in blood.

Arendra had fought—oh, how he fought. With blade and wit and fury. But the enemy had the numbers, and worse, the inside knowledge of the palace’s secret corridors.

King Vardhan fell to a blade he didn’t see.

Queen Revati died defending the temple with her bare hands.

And Arendra, wounded but unyielding, was dragged from the brink of death by a loyal few—Captain Vir, Priestess Aasha, and the old swordsmith, Kaivan. Together they fled through the River Gate, vanishing into the forested shadows of Bhadravan.

But Arendra did not weep.

He only listened to the wind.

And the wind whispered a single name: Samrat.

Get The free eBook Below
https://www.tradeWize.com.ng/storytelling/
Subscribe to get the subsequent eBook at
Email: [email protected]
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www.tradewize.com.ng

Try Identify The Genre You Like Most Let's Write On That..

In the heart of Lagos, where the city’s pulse beat with an electrifying rhythm, there lived a young woman named Amara. By day, she worked as an artist, her paintings capturing the essence of Nigeria's diverse landscapes. By night, she dreamed of a world where magic intertwined with reality—a world she believed existed just beyond the veil of the mundane.

One sultry evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the city was bathed in twilight, Amara decided to visit the bustling marketplace of Balogun. Amid the myriad of scents, colors, and sounds, she felt a strange pull, leading her to a secluded stall run by an enigmatic man named Eze.

Eze was no ordinary vendor. His eyes held secrets of ancient times, and his voice resonated with an almost otherworldly charm. Intrigued, Amara browsed through his collection of rare artifacts until she found a delicate, intricately carved bracelet. The moment she touched it, a spark of energy surged through her, awakening something deep within.

"That bracelet chooses its wearer," Eze said, his eyes locking onto hers. "It holds the key to a world beyond this one."

Amara couldn’t resist. She purchased the bracelet, unaware that it was about to change her life forever.

That night, as she lay in bed, the bracelet began to glow, and Amara found herself transported to a fantastical realm. She stood in the midst of a lush forest, where the air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and the sound of distant drums echoed through the trees. It was a place of beauty and danger, where mythical creatures roamed and ancient magic thrived.

As Amara explored this new world, she encountered Kalu, a warrior with eyes like smoldering embers and a body sculpted by battles. He was both fierce and gentle, a protector of the realm and its secrets. Drawn to each other by an irresistible force, Amara and Kalu quickly formed a bond that transcended the boundaries of their worlds.

Their nights were filled with passion, their bodies entwined beneath the starry skies of this magical land. Kalu showed Amara the wonders of his world, from the majestic cliffs of Jos to the enchanted waters of the Osun River, each place more breathtaking than the last.

But their love was not without challenges. A dark sorceress named Ifeoma sought to control the realm’s magic for her own sinister purposes. She coveted the bracelet and the power it bestowed upon Amara. Determined to protect their love and the realm, Amara and Kalu embarked on a perilous journey to defeat Ifeoma.

Their quest took them across Nigeria’s enchanted cities—from the ancient city of Benin, with its legendary bronze artifacts, to the mystical groves of Ile-Ife, where the spirits of the ancestors whispered secrets to those who would listen. With each challenge, their love grew stronger, their connection deeper.

In a climactic battle at the heart of the Zuma Rock, Amara and Kalu faced Ifeoma. The sorceress's power was formidable, but their love proved to be an even greater force. Together, they harnessed the magic of the bracelet, channeling their passion and strength to overcome Ifeoma and restore balance to the realm.

With the sorceress defeated, peace returned to the land. Amara had to choose between returning to her world or staying with Kalu in the realm of magic. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving Kalu, but she knew her destiny was intertwined with both worlds.

Eze appeared once more, offering a solution. The bracelet, now fully awakened, could create a bridge between the two realms, allowing Amara and Kalu to be together in both worlds. Grateful and overjoyed, they accepted this gift.

Amara and Kalu’s love story became legend, a tale whispered through the ages in both realms. They lived their lives in harmony, their love a beacon of hope and magic that bridged the gap between reality and fantasy.

゚ Inspector Hydro