It had been three months since the death of their son. Their life was deadly miserable. Even with all the riches they had, they weren’t happy. Lindiwe was diagnosed with depression, and after a while she was admitted to a mental asylum. Dlangamandla quickly married another wife as Lindiwe was now a nutcase. She would hallucinate and talk to her son as if he was still alive. She even told everyone what she and her husband did, but no one believed her, as she was now officially a madwoman.

“I’m married now, Lindiwe,” Dlangamandla said, when he visited her one day.

“Nkosana. Where’s my son? He has to go to school, Dlangamandla. Can you drop him off? I need to go to work early,” she replied. Dlangamandla had gave up talking to her and, as expected, stopped visiting.

His new wife had just given birth prematurely. It was a baby girl. Dlangamandla hoped he wouldn’t have to sacrifice his princess. He fell in love with her the moment he saw her and he named her Mayibenathi, which meant, ‘God be with us’.

All Dlangamandla could do now was hope that his son Nkosana was the last sacrifice the Master could ever want. He wouldn’t know how to explain to his new wife that he was a ritualist. As he sat in bed, his daughter in his hands, he said a short prayer, praying for a long life for his beautiful fragile cargo.

***

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