by Rena Barron
Efiya smiles. “You will be with me always, Mother.”
Oshhe exhales and a white cloud escapes his lips. He frowns like he’s seeing for the first time. Efiya rips the shotel from Arti’s chest. When Oshhe’s eyes land on me, he smiles. A smile that’s tired, but hopeful. Time stops and for the briefest moment, there is only my father and me. His face transforms and he’s once again the proud son of Tribe Aatiri. My heart threatens to burst with joy. It’s really my father. It’s really him.
“Little Priestess.” His voice is a vapor. “I need you to be strong a little longer.”
Tears and blood cloud my vision as I stumble toward him. My eyes aren’t deceiving me. My father has come back. Warmth spreads in his sallow cheeks, and his dark gaze shines with light once more. I will take him away from this pain and horror. We’ll go back to his shop and dry herbs and clean bones. We’ll work in the garden, eating so much milk candy that our bellies ache. I’ll listen to him tell stories for hours, for days, for weeks, for the rest of my life.
Efiya appears in front of him in the blink of an eye and plunges her blade into his heart.
“No, no, no!” I scream, pain exploding in my chest.
The ground shakes beneath my feet, and I descend upon my sister like a raging firestorm.
Forty
Efiya and I are a tangle of arms and legs lost in a plume of magic dust. We claw and punch and kick each other. I slam her head against the ground and she knees me in the belly, knocking the wind from my lungs. I struggle to catch my breath.
She’s too strong.
Her magic burns against my defenses and burrows deep inside me. A blistering cold stops my heart and shreds my muscles. My skin cracks like shards of glass before a blazing heat counters her magic and mends the damage. I call lightning that sets her on fire. Our screams drown each other out, and the pain, twenty-gods, there’s so much pain that it blurs my vision.
Efiya takes a step back from me like this is a game and it’s time for a respite. She’s got cuts and scratches and burns everywhere, and she’s bleeding. She’s not invincible. I allow myself a smile.
“It’s like when we used to play in the gardens.” Efiya laughs, delighted. “I’ve missed that.”
As I lunge for her, my sister wraps herself into the void and disappears. In her absence, the others wake with a start. There’s no time to lament as her army descends upon us like vultures. My magic stands on edge as the feeling of prying eyes peering into my soul overwhelms me. I catch sight of a demon standing in the middle of the charging army. He’s wearing a new face, one that is suntanned and angular and a body that’s muscular and compact, but his magic is unmistakable. It curdles my blood. Efiya has given her demon father, Shezmu, a permanent vessel. The echo of metal against metal assaults my senses, but my mind might as well be in a sunken ship deep in the Great Sea.
Bodies twist and turn around me, but I can’t stop staring at my father. My pulse throbs so hard in my ears that I’m light-headed as I stumble to where he lies crumpled on the ground. I drop to my knees, my chest heaving, struggling to breathe, and then I take him into my arms. My magic wraps him in a cocoon of bright colors. It settles on him like stardust and heals his wound. His body is whole, but Efiya took his soul. The magic can’t repair that.
Little Priestess, the memory of his voice whispers. I need you to be strong a little longer.
The rage festering inside me explodes. As I come to my feet, lightning cuts across the sky in a flash of bright amber, striking demon and shotani alike. They collapse in heaps of fire—the flames from their charred flesh sucking up the air. Hot tears streak down my cheeks. I won’t stop until they all suffer. I welcome their deaths.
Rudjek does an intricate dance around me, far enough to mind his swords, but close enough to keep me in his sight. His shotels move in smooth arcs, dispatching enemy after enemy. His body is fluid as he twists and turns, slicing and drawing his swords into chests and bellies and throats. Majka does the same—although with less grace.
While Rudjek is protecting me, Fadyi and Jahla protect him. They cut down shotani with the hook-shaped knives they call reapers that slide through flesh and bones with ease. Re’Mec’s shotels shimmer as he cuts down demon after demon. He’s flamboyant and arrogant as he wields his swords.
Kira flings her knives, her aim true as she takes down several demons in a matter of moments. Behind us, Ezaric and Tzaric have changed back into their human forms. Sukar and Räeke fight side by side, but there’s no sign of Essnai as a horde of demons overtakes them. My belly twists in knots, and I turn my firestorm toward the demons behind me, to help my friends. Kira runs headlong into the thicket of demons, fighting her way to Essnai. I lose sight of her too.
Thunder cracks in the sky at the same time an arrow grazes my cheek. My face burns, and blood rolls down my chin. Rudjek tries to fend off three demons at once, but he’s bleeding too, his movements less fluid and less sharp.
“Are you okay?” he shouts over his shoulder, winded.
Before I can answer, the sky opens. A great beast drops into the valley and the ground shakes. I almost lose my balance, but Majka grabs my arm to keep me from falling. In its descent, the beast crushes dozens of demons and shotani.
“What in the name of the gods,” Majka yells over the battle cries.
The beast is mammoth, its black hide covered in short spikes of bones, its mouth full of sharp, crooked teeth. It rolls its head back, its snout thrust to the moon, and growls—a sound that reverberates through me. It stomps toward us, shaking the ground with each step.
“My sister,” Re’Mec laughs, “always one for theatrics!”
The beast disperses into a red mist and the demons closest to it drop to their knees, clawing at their throats. Rudjek catches my eye as a single figure emerges from the mist. Koré rises from one bent knee, two shotels in her hands, her long braids a writhing bed of serpents.
Not sure if my eyes are deceiving me, I whisper, “I saw you die.”
Koré grins, her head held high. “I’m not so easy to kill.”
Where has she been all this time? I’m both relieved to see her alive and angry that she survived when the witchdoctors did not. I look to where my father fell, but now bodies litter the valley and I can’t see him. “The Demon King’s ka?” The words are stiff on my tongue and my chest tightens. I can’t have come this far only to fail. My father didn’t die in vain.
“Still safe for now,” she finally answers, and I ease out the breath burning in my lungs.
“I had the situation under control,” Re’Mec says to his sister. Although his tone is relaxed, his posture is anything but.
Before Koré can answer, Efiya steps out of the void again and plunges a shotel into Tzaric’s back. Ezaric doesn’t fare any better when her sword slices through his neck. Rudjek screams—his rage palpable as he cuts down two more demons and runs to help the cravens.
My heart slams against my ribs as the sounds of the battle echo in my ears. So many good people have died already because of my mother and Efiya’s quest to raise the Demon King. My father, my grandmother, the witchdoctors, even my mother herself. Still more die now. I can’t let their deaths be for nothing. If I don’t stop my sister here, she and the Demon King will destroy everything.
Efiya appears with her bloody swords slashing down at Sukar’s head. Things happen so fast that one action blurs into the next and then the next. The air ripples with the sting of anti-magic, and a sword pierces through Efiya’s chest. Sukar takes the opportunity to slide his sickle across her throat. The sword turns to ashes, and both wounds heal without spilling a drop of blood. She bears down on Sukar again with rage and murder in her eyes.
“No!” My magic flings Sukar out of Efiya’s grasp, but I push too hard—he crashes into a column and falls to the ground in a heap. My hand flies over my mouth to stifle the scream burning in my lungs.
“I’m no longer amused.” Efiya closes the space between us in two steps. “Time to end this
game.”
Rudjek charges at Efiya, but Jahla and Fadyi hold him back. Koré and Re’Mec and Kira launch weapons at her, but time stops again. By my hand. I have to get Efiya away from my friends, or she won’t stop until she kills them all. The chieftains tell me what to do. I take one step backward and I’m inside the collapsed Temple. When Efiya steps into the void and reappears in front of me, a blinding light flashes, sealing us inside. There is no sound now—everyone outside remains still.
We stand in the Temple as it was before she destroyed it. Pristine pillars and columns glimmer in the torchlight. Murals engraved with stars and flowing ribbons of Heka’s pure light decorate the walls. This place is another gift from the chieftains—a place where Efiya and I exist outside time itself.
“You bring nothing but destruction to everything you touch,” I say. “It must end.”
“Dear Arrah, I’m only beginning.” Efiya smiles. “I’m life and death.”
I shudder, my knees weak. “How could you kill our parents?”
“They are here!” She thumps her fist against her chest. “Can’t you understand that?” She blinks back tears, her face twisted in an emotion that looks foreign on her. “They’re safe with all the others inside me.”
“You’re mad,” I spit, and the words are bile on my tongue.
Efiya frowns like my accusation wounds her. “Are you still sour about Rudjek?”
I will not give her the satisfaction of seeing how much pain she’s caused me.
“I gave him a gift that you never can,” Efiya answers without malice. “You should thank me.”
“Thank you?” I laugh.
Efiya points a bloody shotel at my chest. “It’s your face he’ll remember, not mine.”
Is she jealous? I dismiss the idea. If it’s any emotion at all—it’s contempt. But every soul she’s consumed has become a part of her. It’s changed her. Oshhe’s a part of her now too. He loved me. Arti loved me too. “I don’t hear the chieftains’ voices anymore. Have the kas of all the people you murdered been silenced too?” When she doesn’t respond, I add, “This place is special.”
“I’ve seen visions of us entering the Temple, but I could never see inside it.”
“It’s not meant for you or me to see inside,” I say. “Our magic will not protect us here.”
Efiya considers this for a moment as she stares down at her shotel. Then she glances back up at me, her face set, her eyes savage. “That’s very unfortunate for you.”
Her blade digs into my belly before the Demon King’s dagger even crosses my mind. Efiya smiles down at me through tears, her sword still piercing me. I cough, the taste of blood on my tongue. There’s so much pain in my sister’s gaze as she yanks back the sword and it clangs against the floor.
“It has to be this way.” She pulls me close.
I let myself sag against her. In another life, we could’ve loved each other; we could’ve been best friends. We would’ve braided each other’s hair, and fought over the last milk candy while our father told stories. In another life, our mother would have smothered us with kisses and let us cry on her shoulder.
This life flees my body and peace comes over me. I’ll be able to rest soon. With a last surge of strength I slip the dagger from beneath my tunic. The hilt warms and curves against my palm as the knife reshapes to fit me. The price of using this weapon is death, but I’m ready.
In a moment that’s both too quick and too slow, I plunge the knife between Efiya’s ribs. It pierces her flesh with ease, splitting her open and shredding my heart into pieces. My mind settles on a memory, the most sacred I have of my sister. The first time she climbed into bed with me and curled against my side. She tried to take away my pain—her smile big, her eyes wide with wonder. She longed to be near me, but I pushed her away. I jerk the blade free and let it slip from my hand covered in blood. It clangs to the floor and rings a final note, sealing our fates.
Efiya stumbles back, and soon after, we both fall. I reach for my sister and she crawls to me, her hands and knees slipping in our blood pooling on the stone floor. Neither of us tries to speak. It’s too late for words and sometimes words can’t truly express the mortal heart. Tears streak down my cheeks when she collapses out of arm’s reach. Firelight dances in her eyes until they go still, and her ka of shimmering gold slips from her parted lips. She’s gone. My sister is dead, and I killed her.
Daho’s bloody dagger lies between us—glowing as the first spark of his magic ignites, drawing her soul into its grasp. Darkness bleeds into my eyes until my sight fades to black, until my heart no longer beats, until I die one last time.
Part V
For she is light and she is dark,
For in death her life truly starts.
Some deeds can never be condoned,
For this she will always be alone.
—Song of the Unnamed
Forty-One
I ascend forever into the night sky. There’s no time, no beginning, no end. At death the tether between my old vessel and true self snaps. Now that I’m free, I am light and shadows, floating up, up, up. The battle rages beneath me, but it’s a distant dream now. I unravel and become one with the sky, the moon, and the stars. A thousand lifetimes of memories scatter like sprinkles of stardust.
New knowledge pulses in my shapeless existence. There’s no calming magic to silence my memories as it had in the palace with Rudjek—now they cleave my heart in two.
In my first life, I loved the Demon King. I loved Daho.
After the Supreme Cataclysm birthed me, I settled by a frozen lake on top of a mountain, watching the world grow old. I spent much time in the stillness of a moment until a mortal with a broken wing collapsed in front of my lake. The mortal was on the verge of death, a concept that I didn’t understand until much later. I knew of mortal kind only in the vaguest terms, but when I peered into his soul, I saw his entire life.
Daho’s people built towering dwellings that reached into the clouds. They mastered travel into the skies long before altering themselves to have wings. They developed cures to every illness they knew of, and learned to extend their natural lives. But no matter how advanced their medicine, they could not achieve immortality.
Under the boy’s family, his people—demons—enjoyed a millennium of peace. He was their kingdom’s sole heir but a sickly child. His father’s enemies knew of this and used it to build support against his family. When his father died, they raided their palace and killed his mother. The boy escaped and fled to the mountains to hide. The new king did not pursue him. No one thought he could survive the cold and wild beasts.
I made a vessel to hold my soul and went to the boy, who begged me to help him. I touched his soul, felt his life pulse in rhythm with mine, saw the cosmic strings that connected us. In that moment, I glimpsed his future, sitting upon a throne with me at his side. After I healed him, Daho asked my name, but I had none. Names were another aspect of existing that I didn’t understand yet.
We shared many years on the mountain together. I was very upset when he told me that one day he was going to die. I could not make him like me, so I let my consciousness stretch across the universe, seeking a solution. I discovered a people who lived very long lives by passing their souls on to another at death.
It was fitting that Daho take the life of the man who had killed his mother and stolen his throne—the false Demon King. But when Daho tasted the man’s soul, something changed inside him. He became stronger and possessed magic when his people had none. He had to keep consuming souls to live as long as me, and I grew to understand the horrible thing that I set into motion. I tried desperately to find another way, but I failed. Yet, I couldn’t let Daho die. I loved him too much.
We ruled over the demon kingdom until my siblings decided to punish me for my mistake. It was only after Fram killed me that Daho gorged himself on souls until he became as powerful as my siblings. He built an army to destroy them.
I relive the endless war between the
demons and my siblings. The senseless bloodshed and death. The chaos that consumed the world. Daho sits upon his throne, alone and broken, his belly full of the kas he consumed for an eon. He’s done this because of me—because I died.
I see his real form, a shimmering silver body with wings that span the length of seas, a frame that’s lean and bold. His eyes shine a brilliant shade of emerald and his chin is proud. My soul throbs from memories of running my fingers across his jaw. From memories of his sharp teeth that teased and tantalized as his ka sang my name. My true name. The one that only comes to me in death.
Dimma.
I am nowhere and everywhere at once. I am no one and everyone. I am her, the Unnamed orisha. I am Arrah and a thousand others who lived and died in an endless cycle as punishment for loving Daho.
I ascend beyond the stars, beyond the universe. There’s only the infinite darkness of the Supreme Cataclysm—the creator and the destroyer—and the raging storm inside it. Its call is all that matters now as I draw closer. It will devour me so I can be unmade. I am at its mouth, willing and ready, when I’m whisked away to another plane.
“Hello, sister.”
The voices are familiar, soft-spoken and in sync, neither male nor female. Twins shimmer into existence in front of me. They stand so close together that their bodies melt into each other. One is light and one is dark. One is death and one is life. There’s duality and symmetry in the smoothness of their features. The fluidity in their gender. They are two sides of the same coin and ever changing. Their statue in the Almighty Temple doesn’t do them justice. Nothing could capture their beauty.
“Hello, Fram.” We aren’t using words. The exchange is through the cosmic strings that connect everything in the universe. “Here we are again.”
“For the last time,” Fram says.
“Have you grown tired of this game too?” I ask. “It’s time for it to end.”
“I should’ve left you dead the first time.” Pain flashes in their eyes. “I should’ve let the Supreme Cataclysm unmake you, but I loved you too much.”