“Chândomblé?” Amari asks.
“A legendary temple,” Mama Agba answers. “Rumored to be the home of the sacred sêntaros, the protectors of magic and spiritual order. Before the Raid, only the newly elected leaders of the ten maji clans made the pilgrimage, but if my vision showed you traveling there, it must be your time. You must go. Chândomblé may hold the answers you seek.”
The more Mama Agba speaks, the more I lose feeling in my hands and feet. Why don’t you understand? I want to scream.
I’m not strong enough.
I look at Amari; for a moment, I almost forget she’s a princess. In the glow of Mama Agba’s candles she looks small, unsure of what to do next.
Mama Agba places a wrinkled hand on my face and grabs Amari’s wrist with the other. “I know you’re scared, girls, but I also know that you can do this. Of all the days to trade in Lagos, you went today. Of all the people you could’ve approached in that market, you chose her. The gods are at work. They are blessing us with our gifts after all this time. You have to trust that they wouldn’t gamble with the fate of the maji. Trust in yourselves.”
I release a deep breath and stare at the woven floor. The gods that once seemed so far away are closer now than I ever imagined they could be. I just wanted to graduate today.
I only needed to sell a fish.
“Mama—”
“Help!”
A scream breaks through the calm of the night. In an instant we’re all on our feet. I grab my rod as Mama runs to her window. When she rips open the curtains, my legs go weak.
Fire rages in the merchant quarter, every ahéré engulfed in the roaring blaze. Plumes of black smoke tower into the sky with villagers’ yells, cries for help as our world goes up in flames.
A line of burning arrows cuts through the darkness; each explodes as it makes contact with the reeds and wooden beams of the ahéré.
Blastpowder …
A powerful mix only the king’s guards could obtain.
You, the voice in my head whispers in disgust. You brought them here.
And now the guards won’t just kill everyone I love.
They’ll burn the whole village to the ground.
I’m out the door before another second passes, undeterred when Mama Agba shouts my name. I have to find my family. I have to make sure they’re okay.
With each step on the crumbling walkway, my home blazes into a living hell. The stench of burning flesh stings my throat. The fire’s only raged a few minutes, yet all of Ilorin fries in the flames.
“Help!”
I recognize the cries now. Little Bisi. Her screams cut through the darkness, desperate in their shrieks. My chest heaves as I sprint past Bisi’s ahéré. Will she even make it out of the blaze alive?
As I race home, villagers desperate to escape the flames jump into the ocean, their screams piercing the night sky. Coughing, they cling onto charred driftwood, fighting to stay afloat.
A strange sensation rushes through me, surging through my veins, trapping the breath in my chest. With it, warmth buzzes under my skin. A death …
A spirit.
Magic. I put the pieces together. My magic.
A magic I still don’t understand. A magic that’s brought us to this hell.
But even as embers burn my skin, I picture Tiders summoning streams of water to fight the flames. Burners keeping the blaze at bay.
If more maji were here, their gifts could stop this horror.
If we were trained and armed with incantations, the fire wouldn’t stand a chance.
A loud crack rings through the air. The wooden panels beneath my feet moan as I near the fishermen’s sector. I run for as long as the walkway holds before launching myself into the air.
Smoke sears my throat as I land on the teetering deck that supports my home. I can’t see through the blaze, but still I force myself to act.
“Baba!” I scream through my coughs, adding more cries to the chaos of the night. “Tzain!”
There’s not an ahéré in our sector that isn’t engulfed in flames, yet still I run forward, hoping mine won’t share the same fate.
The walkway wobbles beneath my feet and my lungs scream for air. I tumble to the ground before my home, burned from the heat radiating off the flames.
“Baba!” I shriek in horror, searching for any life in the blaze. “Tzain! Nailah!”
I scream till my throat rips raw, but no one answers my call. I can’t tell if they’re trapped inside.
I can’t see if they’re even alive.
I crawl to my feet and extend my rod, thrusting open our ahéré door. I’m about to run in when a hand clamps my shoulder, pulling me back with so much force I topple over.
Tears blur my vision. It’s difficult to make out the face of my assailant. But soon flickering flames illuminate copper skin. Amari.
“You can’t go in there!” she screams between her coughs. “It’s coming down!”
I shove Amari to the ground with half a mind to drown her in the sea. When she releases her grip, I crawl toward my ahéré.
“No!”
The reed walls we spent a full moon building collapse with a sharp crack. They burn through the walkway and into the sea, sinking to the bottom.
I wait for Tzain’s head to bob up from the waves, for Nailah to let out a roar of pain. But I only see blackness.
In one sweep, my family’s been wiped away.
“Zélie…”
Amari grips my shoulder again; my blood boils under her touch. I grab her arm and yank her forward, grief and rage fueling my strength.
I’ll kill you, I decide. If we die, you die, too.
Let your father feel this pain.
Let the king know unbearable loss.
“Don’t!” Amari screams as I drag her to the flames, but I can barely hear her over the blood pounding in my ears. When I look at her, I see her father’s face. Everything inside me twists with hate. “Please—”
“Zélie, stop!”
I release Amari and whip toward the open sea. Nailah paddles in the ocean water with Tzain on her back. Trailing behind him, Baba and Mama Agba sit safely inside a coconut boat attached to Nailah’s saddle. I’m so overwhelmed by the sight that it takes a moment to grasp that they’re actually alive.
“Tzain—”
The entire foundation of the fishermen’s sector slants. Before we can jump, it goes down, taking us with it. Ice-cold water engulfs our bodies in a rush, soothing the burns I’ve forgotten.
I allow myself to sink among the lumber and shattered homes. The darkness cleanses my pain, cooling the rage.
You can stay down here, a small thought whispers. You don’t have to continue this fight.…
I hold on to the words for a moment, grasping my only chance for escape. But when my lungs wheeze, I force my legs to kick, bringing me back to the broken world I know.
No matter how much I crave peace, the gods have other plans.
CHAPTER TEN
ZÉLIE
WE FLOAT TO a small inlet across from the northern coast in silence, unable to speak after such horror. Though the crashing waves grow loud, the memory of Bisi’s screams crashes even louder in my head.
Four deaths. Four people who couldn’t escape the flames.