Kingdom of Souls

by Rena Barron

  “We have this conversation every time I die,” I say. “I don’t want to have it again.”

  “I need you to understand.” Fram’s voices brim with memories that manifest as rain around their bodies. “You were very young. An infant. The Supreme Cataclysm birthed the rest of us within an eon of each other . . . Koré and Re’Mec, then the others . . . but you came much later. No one knew what to do with you, so we left you to your own devices. Such a horrible way to raise a child, but we were still learning too, even if we thought we knew everything.”

  “That is the failing of our kind,” I say. “We think we always know best.”

  “I see rebirth has taught you something after all.”

  “It’s taught me that I can never atone for what I’ve done.”

  “That’s true.” Fram nods, both heads in concert. “The damage can’t be undone.”

  Silence stretches between us in this place void of time. Even here, the Supreme Cataclysm calls to me and I ache to rejoin it. It would be so easy to be unmade, to have no past or future, no memories at all. To start anew, or not. No one knows what becomes of the things the Supreme Cataclysm unmakes.

  “Do you still love him?” Fram asks.

  We don’t need to say who they speak of; there’s only always been him since that day by the frozen lake. I ache for the centuries we spent watching the world change. For the new life we created. I can feel that he’s stronger than when I’ve died before; he’s on the verge of escaping his prison. His call tugs at me, and I want nothing more than to go to him.

  Supreme Cataclysm, yes, I still love him.

  An echo splutters in my ka. A raging river, a firestorm. It refuses to be brushed aside as memories in someone else’s story. I am Arrah and I am Dimma too. We are the same, but apart. She has her thoughts and I have my own. We exist as one and as two. Had I not been facing Fram, I would not understand the duality in myself—the two sides. Both broken without the other.

  “And what of the craven?” Fram asks, their voices a wisp of wind.

  “Rudjek.” I whisper his name and memories of him flood back into my ka. The deep timbre of his voice, his shy smiles and arrogant grins. The feel of his soul intertwined with mine like warm water splashed against my skin. He makes my ka sing, and I would go to the ends of the universe to see him laugh. I love him too, in this life and in death. Daho is my past, and he is my future.

  “Careful, sister,” Fram warns. “An orisha’s love is dangerous. You know that best of all.”

  “Are you going to send me back?” I ask.

  They’re indecisive by nature and lose themselves in thought. “No,” they answer with finality. “‘If you are reborn, it will give Daho hope. Once he loses hope, we can finally destroy him.”

  “You still don’t understand.” My ka pulses with frustration. “Sending me to my end will not quell his thirst for revenge. Have you not learned from the first time you killed me? I must be the one to stop him. I must put right the wrong that I’ve done. With Arti and Efiya gone, he’ll have no way to escape his prison, and Koré and I can find a way to destroy his soul once and for all.”

  Fram shakes their heads. “You, Arrah, mean well, but you, Dimma, would go to the Demon King at the first chance. The best solution is for you to rejoin the womb. It’s time for you to return to the Supreme Cataclysm.”

  The witchdoctors’ souls are still intertwined with mine and their magic pulses in my ka. Dimma’s magic—my magic—is there too, chained and bound. All this time, I thought that I didn’t have any magic of my own, but Fram had locked it away, as they’d done with my mind. Countless lifetimes of frustration and longing because of them. My anger vibrates in the cosmic strings that connect me to the universe.

  “Return me to my broken vessel now.” Dimma and I are in agreement, our thoughts singular for once. We may not agree on who we love, but we both want to go back to the mortal world, the world of the living.

  “No.” Fram’s calming magic reaches for my soul. “Your time is over.”

  I resist their pull with a burst of the borrowed witchdoctors’ magic. A million sparks of color light around my soul, pushing back Fram’s influence. The chain that binds my own magic bends, but does not break.

  Fram steps closer. “Don’t do this. You will cause nothing but endless death.”

  “I won’t go,” I say as my ka breaks their chain.

  This place where time doesn’t exist trembles with my fury. It tears at the seams. I slip away through a crack and descend into the world again like a falling star. Fram is with me in their shapeless form. Their magic lashes against me like a hot whip and stops my fall. They drag me back and my memories unravel as fog curls around my consciousness. My true name fades away.

  “No, I won’t go,” I repeat, my mind less clear, less certain.

  “You must,” breathes two voices I don’t recognize, when I knew them a moment ago.

  “Let go,” someone else whispers. It isn’t one of the chieftains, yet it is inside me too and I understand what it wants me to do. My ka is akin to mist, not solid by mortal standards, but enough to hold me in this trap. When I left my body twice before, I was afraid I would travel too far and become lost in the spirit world. This is something else, something much riskier. I’m going to let my ka unravel, let it become one with everything. The Kes chieftain spent most of his life exploring the spirit world, and he knows how.

  I push my consciousness out in all directions, stretching beyond the confines of my ka. At first the unraveling is subtle and slow—a new awareness that creeps into my very being. My recent memories—everything that’s happened since I killed Efiya—slip away. I hold on to the idea of seeing my friends again—seeing my father one last time.

  I’m falling, falling, falling through stars.

  Forty-Two

  I don’t know how I’ve come to be here. I was in the Temple with Efiya, then awoke in the sky. I killed my sister. What I’ve done tears at me. I want to scream, but I have no voice and the pain threatens to burn me alive.

  Rudjek’s ka calls to me, sings my name, and I’m drawn to it.

  As my ka pulls itself into one piece, I focus on Rudjek’s song and let it guide me. His sorrow pulls me back to the battlefield, and I sweep inside the Temple and settle into my broken body. When I crack open my eyes, my gaze lands on my sister and my heart aches. She’s gone. I’m dying too, but my thoughts and memories feel tangled and confused.

  There’s a flash of light, then the sound of hurried footfalls.

  “No, no, no,” Rudjek cries. “Arrah, no.”

  He lifts me into his arms and I stare up at his broken face. “You’re going to be okay.”

  “She’s alive!” someone shouts. It’s Majka.

  “That shouldn’t be possible,” Koré says, farther away. “Are you sure?”

  “Help her,” Rudjek demands.

  My skin burns, and I groan in pain.

  “You mustn’t touch her if she’s to have a chance to heal,” comes another voice, the craven called Jahla.

  She means that his anti-magic is dangerous. I already feel a flutter of it. A tear falls from Rudjek’s eye, and when it lands on my face, I twitch from the burn. “Majka . . .” is all he says, broken, and his friend takes me into his arms. Rudjek backs away. It hurts to see his pain.

  “What should we do with Efiya?” asks Fadyi.

  “Burn her body before she sees fit to come back.” Koré’s tone is full of menace. “Do it where the demons can see, and watch them run like the cowards they are.”

  I slip into the lull of sleep and when I wake again, I’m lying in a tent. Koré is at my side with her hands pressed against my wounds. It hurts, but the pain is dull. Re’Mec is on my opposite side. Both stare at me like I’m some mystery they’re trying to solve. Behind Re’Mec, I catch glimpses of Sukar lying on a makeshift cot. He’s asleep, and the cravens are close to him. Fadyi, Jahla, and Räeke. I remember that the twins, Ezzric and Tzaric, are dead. My sister killed them
. She killed Arti and Oshhe too. Tears slip down my cheeks. I’ll never hear another story from my father, or collect herbs in the garden with him. We won’t ride with the caravan to the Blood Moon Festival—there will be no more festivals now.

  “Did Fram send you back?” Koré hisses in my ear. “I can taste their magic on you.”

  It takes all my effort to keep my eyes half-open, and I don’t have the strength to answer. Why would the orisha Fram have anything to do with me? It makes no sense that she’s asking me about them. Essnai, Kira, and Majka stand at my feet, looking anxious. Rudjek stands farther back, his arms crossed. I have so many questions, about the demons, about the orishas, about my sister.

  “Can’t you do something more?” Rudjek demands. “You helped Sukar.”

  “I’ve stopped the bleeding and healed her wound,” Koré says. “It’s the magic from the dagger that’s poisoning her body now—like we expected. In truth, I may have only prolonged her suffering. And I can’t do anything else without diverting my attention from more important matters.”

  “More important matters?” Rudjek turns on her, enraged. “Where were the Twin Kings when Efiya killed the tribal people? Where were you when the Ka-Priestess created that monstrosity?”

  Re’Mec’s shoulders tense. “That’s not a tree you want to bark up, boy.”

  “Do you know where I was not?” Koré rises to her feet, her braids writhing in agitation. “I was not bedding Arrah’s sister.”

  Heat creeps up Rudjek’s neck and burns his cheeks. Essnai curses, and Kira glares at him. Majka looks everywhere but at his friend. Rudjek glances to the ground, his face twisted in anguish like he wants to bury himself under a slab of granite.

  Re’Mec lets out a long whistle that echoes in the valley. “No need to bring up the boy’s indiscretions, Koré. We were all young once, or have you forgotten?”

  He emphasizes once in a way that makes it clear that there’s a story behind his words, but Koré refuses to back down. Her eyes take a hard edge. “Did the others not see when Efiya leaned in to whisper to you on the battlefield?”

  Rudjek doesn’t answer, but Jahla speaks up. “You know as well as I that she tricked him.”

  “As much as I love a good spat,” Re’Mec rises to his feet, “my sister and I have a horde of demons to hunt down and kill. One of them stole the Demon King’s dagger and I want it back.”

  A shock of pain cuts across my chest. How had one of the demons taken the dagger? Had it happened right after I . . . I killed my sister? There’s a blank hole in my mind and it frustrates me that I can’t remember. We have to get the dagger back . . . we can’t let the demons keep it. It’s too powerful, too dangerous. I try to warn my friends, but the blood pooling in my throat drowns out my voice.

  Koré pats my shoulder and sleep claims me again. I’m in and out for days. In my dreams, I sit with my knees drawn to my chest, staring at a frozen lake with mist rising from its surface. Sometimes I’m alone, save from the brisk breeze whipping across my bare arms, but I don’t feel the cold. Sometimes Rudjek is with me and we snuggle together under a great brown fur, neither of us speaking. Sometimes it’s another boy. I can only see a wisp of his silvery hair and wings.

  “Do you remember me?” asks the winged boy in my dreams. “Do you remember us?”

  My head is on his lap and it’s so comforting that I could stay here for eternity.

  “Who are you?” I roll over to look up at him, but the sun washes out his face.

  “I’m Daho,” he says, sad.

  “Do I know you?”

  After a long pause, he answers, choking back tears, “Not yet, but you will.”

  “You have a new body.” I catch glimpses of his dark features, a memory teetering around the edges of my mind. A memory of him.

  “Yes.” He smiles down at me. “I will come for you, I promise.”

  In another dream a winged beast with sharpened teeth and a jackal head sweeps down from the sky and steals me away. I startle awake. “Rudjek,” I say. My voice is low and broken. Shadows shift in the tent from flickering firelight.

  “I’m here, Arrah.” He takes my hand into his own; he’s wearing thick gloves.

  Rudjek runs his gloved fingers across the back of my hand, trying to smooth away my anxiety. He doesn’t have the heart to tell me the truth. That the universe has conspired against us. That our touch is venomous. That there can never be more between us because of my magic, and what he’s become.

  “You won’t let him take me, will you?” I clutch his hand—it’s my tether to life. My dreams open in my mind like fresh wounds, the signs unmistakable. Sweat trickles down my back. Sometimes dreams are dreams, and sometimes they are glimpses into the future. I have Grandmother’s gift of vision now, and my dreams mean more. They foreshadow a terrible truth.

  Rudjek frowns, worried. “Who, Arrah?”

  “The Demon King,” I groan, my throat raw.

  “He’s still in his prison.” Rudjek strokes my cheek. “You saved us.”

  I stare up into his bewitched eyes, knowing the truth will break him. It will break me too.

  The Demon King

  This new body is quite small and lacks wings. I miss the wind sweeping beneath me. It will take some getting used to. Yes, I know, in due time. You don’t have to remind me of that. I don’t like being in this weakened state. My people need me—what’s left of them.

  We will lay siege to the orishas’ beloved humans and cravens.

  I’ve learned patience all these years locked in chains, and I’ve learned many of the orishas’ secrets. I know how to destroy them, but this isn’t only about bringing about their deaths. They must suffer as I have.

  I will enjoy every moment of it.

  What about her?

  Do not ever address my wife as “girl” again, or I’ll cut out your heart and feed it to you.

  She’s still your queen and even if she has forgotten that, it’s not her fault.

  Yes, she’s a risk, but hear me: tread carefully when it comes to Arrah. I won’t have her harmed. She will come around soon enough. Of that I’m sure. You should be too. You know Dimma loved our people as much as I do. When she has her full memory back, she will return home. I need to find Fram. They will tell me how to break the spell on Dimma so my love can remember me.

  Do you think a boy she’s known for a moment in time will come between us?

  I’ll take care of Rudjek when the time comes too. I will make an example of him.

  I warned Efiya that Koré was a trickster, but she did not listen.

  Look what it got her.

  I don’t mean to be insensitive, Shezmu. I know she was your daughter and you loved her.

  You deserve revenge too. It may be Arrah who wielded the blade, but the orishas guided her hand. She didn’t know what she was doing. Koré and Re’Mec tricked her. Don’t you ever forget that.

  Arrah loved her sister and Efiya loved her too.

  Now you know how it feels to lose the one person who gave your life meaning.

  It’s not easy to lose a child. I should know. The orishas never allowed my child to be born and now my wife doesn’t even remember our son. I must be gentle with her. She’s like before, when we were young and didn’t understand much about life and death. She was patient with me then, so I must be the same with her.

  We will not let this break us. Not after all this time.

  I’m tired of this war too. I want it to end once and for all.

  I will bring peace again like we enjoyed under my father.

  But for there to be peace, there must be death.

  Acknowledgments

  The proverb “it takes a village” really comes to mind when I think of all the people who have been my support system from the moment I penned my first word to the publication of Kingdom of Souls. It started with my mother, who encouraged my early love of reading and storytelling, who always found a way to get me to the library, and bought books for me to devour. You read my ve
ry first manuscript with so much joy and enthusiasm that to this day, it brings a smile to my face and warms my heart. To my brothers, I am so very proud of you.

  I suspect it may not be easy to live with a writer. Nevertheless, Cyril, you handle it like a pro. You’ve been there through the ups and downs, and the joys and disappointments. You’re a champion for listening to my excessive talking about books, characters, and imaginary worlds. Thank you for always being supportive even when I’m mumbling plot points in my sleep. You keep me grounded and balanced. Your patience is boundless, and your dedication to your passion inspires me to keep pushing for my dreams.

  To my literary agent, Suzie Townsend: you’ve been a diligent advocate from day one and a dream business partner. Thank you for all that you do, your support, and your kindness. Thanks to Joanna Volpe, the mastermind behind New Leaf Literary Agency. Pouya Shahbazian, the best film agent in the known world. Mia Roman and Veronica Grijalva for working their magic. Meredith Barnes, publicity expert, so fortunate for your expertise. To Dani, who shares my aversion to ketchup, I’m lucky to have you on my team. To Hilary, Joe, Madhuri, Cassandra, and Kelsey, you are all part of my village.

  I count myself lucky to have landed two fabulous, hardworking editors for Kingdom of Souls, Stephanie Stein at HarperTeen and Vicky Leech at HarperVoyager UK. Stephanie, you are a world-building and plot genius. Vicky, you are amazing at honing the threads that weave a story together and ensuring every detail adds to something greater. Discussing plot and story development with the two of you is always a joy. Thank you for pushing me to find and stay true to my voice and storytelling style.

  To the great team behind Stephanie at HarperTeen: Louisa Currigan, Jon Howard, and Jen Strada, I couldn’t do it without your keen eyes and expertise. Marketer extraordinaire, Ebony LaDelle, and the Epic Reads team. Kimberly Stella and Vanessa Nuttry on the production side, and Haley George, who headed up publicity. Jenna Stempel-Lobell and Alison Donalty for orchestrating such a magical US cover.