by Tomi Adeyemi
Tzain pulls out his map, and Lekan charts a course to where the sacred temple will appear. I pray the location is within reach, but Tzain’s eyes bulge in alarm.
“Wait,” Amari says as she raises her hands. “We have the scroll and the bone dagger, but where is the sunstone?” She eyes his robes expectantly, but no glowing stone comes forth.
“I have been tracking the stone from Warri since it first washed ashore. I was following a lead on it in Ibeji when my spirit called me back here. I have to assume it was so I could meet you.”
“So you don’t have it?” I ask.
Lekan shakes his head, and Tzain nearly explodes. “Then how are we supposed to do this? Travel alone will take a full moon!”
The answer becomes as stark as the paintings on the wall. The divîners will never become maji. Saran will always be in control.
“Can’t you help us?” Amari asks.
“I can aid you.” Lekan nods. “But I have limits. Only a woman can become our mamaláwo. I cannot perform the ritual.”
“But you have to do it,” Amari presses. “You are the only sêntaro left!”
“It does not work like that.” Lekan shakes his head. “Sêntaros are not like maji. Your connection to the gods is cemented in your blood. That connection to Sky Mother is what’s needed to complete the ritual.”
“Then who can do it?”
Lekan looks at me, heavy in his gaze. “A maji. One tethered to the gods.”
It takes a moment for Lekan’s words to hit; when they do I nearly laugh.
“If Sky Mother brought the scroll to you through a descendant of Saran’s blood, her will is clear.”
Her will is wrong, I almost shoot back. I can’t save the maji. I can barely save myself.
“Lekan, no.” My gut clenches the way it did when Amari first grabbed me in the market. “I’m not strong enough. I’ve never even performed an incantation. You said the scroll only connected me to Oya. I’m not connected to Sky Mother, either!”
“I can amend that.”
“Then amend yourself. Amend Tzain!” I push my brother forward. Even Amari would be a better candidate than me.
But Lekan grabs my hand and leads me forward, continuing through the dome. Before I can object, he cuts me off.
“The gods don’t make mistakes.”
* * *
BEADS OF SWEAT GATHER on my forehead as we climb another set of stone steps. We pass stair after stair, ascending toward the top of the mountain. With each step my mind twists and tumbles, reminding me of all the ways this can fail.
Maybe if we already had the sunstone …
If the royal guard wasn’t breathing down our backs …
If Lekan would just get someone else to do the stupid ritual …
My chest tightens, suffocating under the threat of failure. Baba’s crooked smile returns to my mind, the hope in his eyes. As long as we don’t have magic, they will never treat us with respect.
We need this ritual. It’s our only hope. Without it, we’ll never get power.
The monarchy will always treat us like maggots.
“We are here.”
At last, we reach the top of the stairs and emerge outside into the fading daylight. Lekan leads us to a glittering stone steeple that rises out of the mountaintop, far above the same temple we first entered. Though a few cracked tiles mark the entrance, the site is largely untouched. Towering pillars support the structure, bending into rows of elegant arches.
“Wow,” I breathe out, running my fingers along the carved sênbaría marking each column. The symbols glow in the waning sunlight seeping in through the archways.
“Here.” Lekan gestures to the only fixture in the steeple, an obsidian tub steaming with clear blue water. The liquid begins to bubble as he nears, though no flames dance in sight.
“What is this?”
“Your awakening. When I am done, your spirit will be re-tethered to Sky Mother’s.”
“You can do that?” Amari asks.
Lekan nods, the ghost of a smile tickling his lips. “It was my duty with my people. I trained for it all my life.” He clasps his hands together, gaze soft and unfocused. Then suddenly he shifts, eyeing Tzain and Amari.
“You must leave.” He gestures to them. “I’ve already broken centuries of tradition by letting you come this far. I cannot allow you to observe our most sacred ritual.”
“Like hell you can’t.” Tzain steps in front of me, muscles flexing in challenge. “I’m not leaving you alone with my sister.”
“You should stay,” Amari whispers. “I have no right to see this—”
“No.” Tzain extends his hand in front of Amari, stopping her before she can scurry down the stone steps. “Stay. No us, no ritual.”
Lekan purses his lips. “If you stay, you are bound to secrecy.”
“We vow.” Tzain waves his hand. “We won’t say anything.”
“Do not take this vow lightly,” Lekan warns. “The dead won’t.”
Lekan shifts his glare to Amari; she all but melts. He only relents to grasp the rim of the obsidian tub. The water instantly boils under his touch.
My throat goes dry as I approach the tub and a new wave of steam hits my face. Oya, help me. I can’t even sell a fish without causing the destruction of my entire village. How am I supposed to be the maji’s only hope?
“If I agree to this, you must awaken others.”
Lekan stifles a frustrated breath. “Sky Mother brought you here—”
“Please, Lekan. You have to. I can’t be the only one.”
Lekan clicks his tongue and ushers me toward the tub. “Fine,” he concedes. “But I must awaken you first.”
I take a tentative step into the tub, sliding in slowly until water covers all but my head. My clothes float around me as the heat soothes my every limb, kissing the strain of today’s climb away.
“Let us begin.”
Lekan takes my right hand and removes the bone dagger from the folds of his robe.
“To unlock divine power, we must sacrifice that which is most divine to us.”
“You’re using blood magic?” Tzain steps toward me, body stiff with fear.
“Yes,” Lekan says, “but your sister will be safe. I will keep it under control.”
My heartbeat quickens, remembering Mama’s withered body after she used blood magic for the first time. The boundless power ripped her muscles apart. Even with the aid of Healers, it took her a full moon to regain her ability to walk.
It was a risk she took to save Tzain when he nearly drowned as a child, a sacrifice that allowed him to cling to life. But in sacrificing herself, she nearly died.
“You’ll be safe,” Lekan assures me, seeming to read my thoughts. “This isn’t like when maji use blood magic. Sêntaros have the ability to guide it.”
I nod, though a dull spike of fear still pricks at my throat.
“Forgive me,” Lekan says. “This may hurt.”
I inhale a sharp breath as he slashes through the palm of my hand, gritting my teeth against the sting as blood begins to seep out. The pain turns into shock when my blood glows with a white light.
When it drips into the water, I feel something leave me, something deeper than a simple cut. The red droplets turn the clear blue liquid white; it boils even harder as more blood falls.
“Now relax.” Lekan’s booming voice drops to a soft timbre. My eyes flutter closed. “Clear your head, take deep breaths. Release yourself from your worldly tethers.”
I bite back a retort. There are too many tethers to count. The flames of Ilorin lick my mind, the echoes of Bisi’s screams ring in my ears. The prince’s hands wrap around my throat. Squeezing. Tighter.
But as my body soaks in the heated water, the strains start to fade. Baba’s safety … Inan’s fury … One by one each burden sinks. They leave me in waves until even Mama’s death seems to evaporate in the steam.
“Good,” Lekan soothes. “Your spirit is being cleansed. Remember, wh
atever you feel, I will be here.”
He places one hand on my forehead and another on my sternum before he chants. “Ọmọ Mama, Arábìnrin 4yà. Sí 1bùn iyebíye r1. Tú idán mím3 rẹ síl1.”
A strange power whirls around my skin. The water boils with a new intensity and my breath hitches as its heat takes hold.
“Ọmọ Mama—”
Daughter of Sky Mother, I repeat in my head.
“Arábìnrin 4yà—”
Sister of Oya.
“Sí 1bùn iyebíye r1—”
Bare your precious gift.
“Tú idán mím3 rẹ síl1.”
Release your holy magic.
The air above us tingles with electric energy, stronger than anything I’ve felt before. It surpasses the buzz of Inan’s imprinting, eclipses the surge of touching the parchment for the first time. The tips of my fingers grow warm, igniting with white light. As Lekan chants, the power travels through my veins, making them glow beneath my skin.
“Ọmọ Mama, Arábìnrin 4yà—”
The louder his incantation rings, the more my body reacts. The magic overwhelms every cell in my being, pulsing as Lekan submerges my head beneath the water. My skull presses against the floor of the tub, and a new kind of air catches in my throat. I finally understand Mama Agba’s words.
It’s like breathing for the first time.
“Ọmọ Mama—”
Veins bulge against my skin as the magic grows, a swell about to burst. Behind my eyes, sheets of red dance around me, crashing like waves, spinning like hurricanes.
As I lose myself in their beautiful chaos, a glimpse of Oya emerges. Fire and wind dance around her like spirits, spinning like the red silks of her skirt.
“Arábìnrin 4yà—”
Her dance transfixes me, igniting everything that I never realized was trapped inside of me. It scorches through my body like a flame, yet chills my skin like ice, flowing in uncharted waves.
“Sí 1bùn iyebíye r1!” Lekan shouts above the water. “Tú idán mím3 rẹ síl1!”
In one final surge, the tsunami breaks free and magic flows through every inch of my being. It inks itself into each cell, staining my blood, filling my mind. In its power I glimpse the beginning and end at once, the unbreakable connections tethering all of our lives.
The red of Oya’s wrath whirls around me.
The silver of Sky Mother’s eyes shines.…
* * *
“ZÉLIE!”
I blink open my eyes to find Tzain shaking me by the shoulders.
“You okay?” he asks, leaning over the edge of the tub.
I nod, but I can’t bring myself to speak. There are no words. Only the prickling sensation left behind.
“Can you stand?” Amari asks.
I try to push myself up out of the bath, but as soon as I do, the entire world spins.
“Be still,” Lekan instructs. “Your body needs rest. Blood magic drains your life force.”
Rest, I repeat. Rest with time we don’t have. If Lekan’s lead on the location of the sunstone is right, we need to head to Ibeji to find it. I can’t complete the ritual without the stone, and we’re already running out of time. The solstice is only three quarter moons away.
“You must spare one night,” Lekan presses, somehow sensing my urgency. “Awakening magic is like adding a new sense. Your body needs time to adjust to the strain.”
I nod and close my eyes, slumping against the cold stone. Tomorrow you’ll start. Head to Ibeji, find the stone. Go to the sacred island. Perform the ritual.
I repeat the plan again and again, letting its repetition lull me to sleep. Ibeji. Stone. Island. Ritual.
With time my mind fades into a soft blackness, seconds away from sleep. I’m almost out when Lekan seizes my shoulders and drags me to my feet.
“Someone is coming,” Lekan shouts. “Quick! We must go!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
INAN
—DRAG US HALFWAY across the world—
—why can’t they just tell us what she stole—
—if that bastard thinks I’m willing to die on this cliff—
“Inan, slow down!” Kaea calls from below. It takes a moment to realize she’s not just another voice in my head.
The closer I get to Chândomblé, the louder they become.
Curse the skies. The guards’ complaints buzz like honeybees sparring inside my skull. Though I want to block them out, I can’t afford to push my curse down; even the slightest efforts cause my legs to slip from the cliff.
The bite of magic twists everything inside me, a virus destroying me from the inside out. But I have no choice. I cannot climb and weaken myself.
I have to let the darkness in.
It stings worse than the burn that sears in my chest when I fight my powers down. Each time a foreign thought hits me, my skin crawls. Every flash of another’s emotion makes my lips curl.
Magic slithers inside me. Venomous, like a thousand spiders crawling over my skin. It wants more of me. The curse wants to fight its way in—
With a lurch, my foothold crumbles.
Stones at my feet tumble like an avalanche.
I grunt as my body is slammed flat against the wall, my feet flailing for a new hold.
“Inan!” Kaea’s shouts from the ledge below. More of a distraction than an aid. She waits with the ryders and other soldiers while I stake out a path.
Rope and flint slip from pockets of my belt as I swing. Amari’s headdress slides as well.
No!
Though it’s a risk, I release my left hand, catching the headdress before it evades my grasp. As my feet discover new footing, memories I can’t fight swell to the surface.
“Strike, Amari!”
Father’s command boomed against the stone walls of the palace cellar. Deep underground, where his commands were law. Amari’s small hands shook, barely strong enough to lift the iron sword.
It wasn’t like the wooden swords he forced us to spar with, dull blades that bruised but never cut. The iron was sharp. Jagged at its edge. With the right strike, we wouldn’t just bruise.
We’d bleed.
“I said, strike!” Father’s yells were like thunder. A command no one could defy. Yet Amari shook her head. She let her sword fall.
I flinched as it clattered against the ground. Harsh and piercing. Defiance ringing in every sound.
Pick it up! I wanted to scream.
At least if she struck, I could defend myself.
“Strike, Amari.”
Father’s voice hit an octave so low it could crack stone.
Yet Amari clutched herself and turned away. Tears streamed down her face. All Father saw was weakness. After all this time, I think it might have been strength.
Father turned to me, face dark, flickering in the shadows of the torchlight.
“Your sister chooses herself. As king, you must choose Orïsha.”
All the air vanished from the room. The walls closed in. Father’s orders echoed in my head. His commands to fight against myself.
“Strike, Inan!” Rage flared in his eyes. “You must fight now!”
Amari screamed and covered her ears. Everything in me wanted to run to her side. Protect her. Save her. Promise we would never have to fight.
“Duty before self!” Father’s voice went hoarse. “Show me you can be king!”
In that moment, everything stopped.
I lunged forward with my sword.
“Inan!”
Kaea’s barks pull me back, breaking through the depths of my memories.
I press against the mountainside, one foot still dangling. With a grunt, I continue my climb, not stopping until I reach the next ledge. Sweat pours from my body as I rub my thumb over the ornate seal in Amari’s headdress.
We never spoke of it. Not once. Even after all these years. Amari was too kind to bring it up. I, far too scared.
We carried on, an invisible chasm always between us. Amari never had to go bac
k to that cellar. I never left.
Though my muscles shake, I pocket the headdress. There’s no time to waste. I failed my sister once. I shall not repeat that mistake again.
As I rise, the maji’s spirit pulses like never before. A surge she can’t control. The sea-salt scent of her soul is so strong it overwhelms the clove smell of bromeliads under my nose. I pause when I notice the flattened stems at my feet.
Tracks …
She’s been here.
She’s close.
I’m close.
Kill her, my heart thrums as I claw at the mountain ledge. Kill her. Kill magic.
When the girl’s finally in my grasp, this will all be worth it. I shall take my kingdom back.
Amari’s headdress pokes my side as I continue to rise. I couldn’t save her from Father then. But today, I shall save her from herself.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ZÉLIE
“FASTER!” LEKAN CALLS as we run through the temple halls. Tzain carries me over his shoulders, grip tight around my waist.
“Who is it?” Amari asks, though the quiver in her voice suggests she already knows. Her brother’s scarred her once. Who’s to say it won’t happen again?
“My staff,” I moan. It takes every ounce of energy to speak. But I need it to fight. I need it to keep us alive.
“You can barely stand.” Tzain catches me before I slide from his back. “Shut up. And for gods’ sakes, try to hold on!”
We come to a dead end in the hall, and Lekan presses his palm to the stone. The inked symbols dance across his skin and travel into the wall. When his right arm is wiped clean of sênbaría, the stone clicks, sliding open to a golden room. We step into the hidden wonder, filled floor to ceiling with shelves of thin, colored scrolls.
“Do we hide here?” Tzain asks.
Lekan disappears behind a large shelf before returning with an armful of black scrolls. “We’re here to retrieve these incantations,” he explains. “Her powers will need maturation if she is to perform the mamaláwo’s role.”
Before Tzain can object, Lekan shoves them into my leather pack with the ritual parchment.