People filled a magnificent palace decorated with impressive ornaments that displayed the authority and power of the kingdom. The king who ruled the town was a huge, dark-skinned man full of pride and prestige.

He sat on a grand throne, dressed in royal attire that reflected absolute power and the honor of traditional rulership. Beside the king sat a young woman, not more than twenty-five years old, dressed in royal garments. Half of her face was covered with a veil, leaving only half visible—yet even that half could not hide her extraordinary beauty.

The king and some of the townspeople worshipped their former king—who was the grandfather of the current king. They had made an idol of him and built a room for it, where they offered worship to him as their god.

They called their idol Baduuhu. Every year, they sacrificed three women and three men, offering their blood to him. This was the service they believed he required. Anyone on whom the oracle fell was the one whose blood would be used for the sacrifice to Baduuhu.

There were Muslims in the town, but very few, because whenever it was time for the sacrifice, they were often the first chosen for it. That was how things were.

The king cleared his throat angrily and said,

“We will not accept humiliation from an animal. We will not allow a beast to keep killing the elders of this palace.”

“Therefore, we have decided that tomorrow, anyone who believes he is a true hunter should present himself. We will go in search of the serpent that has been troubling us, because the healers have discovered that it is the venom of this one serpent that has been killing our people.”

When he finished speaking, he stood up holding the hand of the young woman beside him. The servants rose and escorted them back to the palace.

She hurried away from the gathering, running until she reached home. She didn’t even greet anyone; she pushed her way inside. The old woman sitting in the courtyard looked at her quickly and asked,

“Boddi, is everything alright? What is it?”

She didn’t look at her, nor did she answer. She went straight into her room.

The moment she entered, she sat on her mat and broke down in tears, covering her mouth. Out loud she whispered,

“It's not me. I am not the one killing them, and I will never do it. Who are you? Why are you killing them? What did they ever do to you?”

A burning sensation filled her chest, bitterness filled her tongue, and her skin started tightening as panic rose within her. Clasping her hands in a pleading gesture, she whispered, “Ya Rabb…”

Hot tears streamed down her face.

Moments later, from her waist down to her feet, her body transformed into that of a huge, thick serpent.

Still crying, she coiled and uncoiled her tail anxiously, terrified that someone might enter the room.

She tried her hardest to return to human form, but nothing worked. She burst into deeper cries, feeling her heart ache painfully.

“Indeed, I am a Muslim, one who accepts destiny—whether good or bad.

“Was I always like this? Who am I? Who are my parents? How did I end up among humans?”

She raised her hands in supplication and begged, “Ya Rabb…”

She remained like that for a long time until she heard someone greeting in the courtyard.

Her fear returned when she heard the visitor asking about her.

“She’s inside. I saw her rush into her room earlier,” the old woman replied.

She heard footsteps approaching her room. Suddenly, an idea came to her. She grabbed a large bedsheet and wrapped her entire body with it.

Just then, someone entered with a greeting. She answered softly,

“Hamma… welcome.”

He didn’t reply. He kept staring at how she had wrapped herself. He knew she disliked cold, and the way she covered herself showed she was feeling cold.

He moved closer, reaching to pull the sheet away. She immediately grabbed his hand firmly. He felt a hand holding him, but could see no hand—only his own hand being restrained.

Shocked, he looked around the room, but saw nothing except her lying down.

Silently, he began reciting prayers in his heart, analyzing everything in the room.

When the invisible grip released him, he said “Bismillah” and pulled the sheet away.

She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing he would certainly discover that she was the serpent. What would they do to her now?

When he removed the sheet and said nothing, she slowly opened her eyes and looked at her legs—now human again.

She let out a heavy sigh of relief and forced a smile.

He said gently,

“Pray more, Boddi. And continue reading the Qur’an. This room of yours requires a lot of prayer. May Allah protect you, my sister.”

Smiling, she replied, “Amin, my brother.”