For the briefest moment, triumph overpowers the exhaustion running through my muscles. I’ve done it. I’m a Reaper. A true sister of Oya.
A pang of sadness flashes through me. If only Mama could see me now.
But I can still honor her spirit.
I will make every fallen Reaper proud.
“4mí àw?n tí ó ti sùn—”
With the dwindling ashê in me, I chant, casting one more animation to life. I point to a ship, then give my command.
“Bring it down!”
To my surprise, the animations tear through the water with the speed of arrows. They shoot forward at my target, moments away from a strike.
The water rumbles when they hit, blowing straight through the vessel’s hull. Planks of wood fly like spears, twisting as water rushes in.
I did it.…
I don’t know whether to search for Oya in the sky or within my own hands. Spirits of the dead answered my call. They bent to my will!
The water swallows the ship whole, capsizing the vessel. But before my excitement can settle, falling div?ners crash into the water.
I spin, taking in the collateral damage. The fallen crew thrashes for the top, kicking toward the edge of the arena. Terror hits when I see one girl plunge through the water with limp limbs. My chest seizes as her unconscious body begins to sink like lead.
“Save her!”
I push the command out, but my connection to the animations withers like the final breath left in my chest. I can already feel the spirit soldiers fading, leaving the hell of this arena for the peace of the afterlife.
As I kick upward, the animations dive like horn-tailed manta rays, surrounding the girl before she can hit the bottom of the arena. Ashê buzzes in my veins as they pull her up to a floating piece of dirftwood, granting her a chance to live.
“Ugh!” I cough when I break through the surface. Something leaves me as the animations disappear. I send silent thanks to their spirits as I wheeze for air.
“Did you see that?” the announcer booms. The arena erupts, not knowing what took the boat down.
“Zélie!” Tzain shouts from above, a crazed smile on his face despite the nightmare around us. His grin holds a glow I haven’t seen in over a decade, a light he would have whenever he watched Mama’s magic at work.
“That!” He points. “Keep doing that!”
Pride swells in my chest, heating me from within. I take a deep breath before diving back down.
Then I begin to chant.
CHAPTER THIRTY
AMARI
CHAOS.
Before this moment, I never truly understood the word. Chaos meant Mother’s screams before a luncheon. It meant the scramble of oloyes to their gold-lined chairs.
Now chaos surrounds me, pulsing through every breath and heartbeat. It sings as blood splatters through the air, screams as boats explode into oblivion.
I scramble to the back of the boat and cover my head as a boom rings. Our vessel shakes as another cannon strikes its hull. Only seventeen ships float, yet somehow, we are still in this fight.
Before me, everyone moves with unmatched precision, fighting despite the mayhem. Tendons bulge against the rowers’ necks as they drive the ship forward; sweat pours down the crew’s faces as they load more blastpowder into the breeches of the cannons.
Go, I yell at myself. Do something. Anything!
But no matter how hard I try, I cannot help. I cannot even breathe.
My insides lurch as a cannonball rips through the deck of another boat. Injured cries hit my ears like shattered glass. The stench of blood stains the air, bringing Zélie’s old words to mind. The day we came to Ibeji, she tasted death.
Today I taste it for myself.
“Incoming!” Tzain yells, pointing through the smoke. Another vessel approaches, its rowers panting with spears at the ready. Skies …
They’re going to board us.
They’ll bring the battle here!
“Amari, take the rowers!” Tzain yells. “Help me lead this fight!”
Ever the fearless captain, he takes off, disappearing before he can see the paralysis in my feet. My lungs gasp for air; why can’t I remember how to breathe?
You trained for this. I grip my sword as the boat nears. You bled for this.
But when the enemy crew jumps aboard, years of forced lessons freeze in my fingertips. Though I try to flick my blade open, my hands only tremble. Strike, Amari. Father’s voice rumbles into my ears, cutting deep into the scar on my back. Raise your sword, Amari. Attack, Amari. Fight, Amari.
“I can’t…”
After all these years, I still can’t. Nothing has changed. I cannot move. I cannot fight.
I can only stand still.
Why am I here? What in the skies was I thinking? I could’ve left that scroll and returned to my quarters. I could still be grieving Binta’s death in my room. But I made that choice, one fateful decision that once seemed so right. I thought I could avenge my dear friend.
Instead, I will only die.
I press against the side of the ship, hiding away as the crew fights through the invaders. Their blood spills at my feet. Their anguish rings, filling my ears.
The chaos envelops me, so overwhelming I can hardly see. It takes a moment too long to realize that one of the blades is coming for me.
Strike, Amari.
Yet my limbs do not move. The blade whistles toward my neck—
Tzain cries out as his fist collides with the man’s jaw.
The attacker collapses, but not before his sword slashes through Tzain’s arm.
“Tzain!”
“Stay back,” he yells, grabbing his bleeding bicep.
“I’m sorry!”
“Just get out of the way!”
Hot tears of shame well in my eyes as he runs off. I retreat into the back corner of the ship. I shouldn’t have boarded. I shouldn’t be here. I should never have left the palace—
A thunderous crash rings through my ears. Our vessel jolts with a violent force, knocking me to the ground. I grip the railing of the ship as the boat shudders. This is it.
We’ve been hit.
Before I can scramble to my feet, another cannonball blows through our deck. Shards of wood and smoke fly through the air. With a lurch, the bow of the boat tips up. Smoke fills my lungs as I slide across the bloodstained deck.
I grab onto the base of the mast and squeeze for dear life. Liters of water rush across the carnage on the ship.
With another lurch, our boat begins to sink.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ZéLIE
“ZéLIE!”
I break back to the surface and whip my head up. Tzain grips the rail of the ship, teeth clenched with strain. Blood covers his clothes and his face, but I can’t tell whether it’s his.
Only nine other vessels float through the arena. Nine vessels left in this bloodbath. But the stern of our boat groans under the surface.
Our ship’s going down.
I take a deep breath and plunge back into the water. Immediately, bile rises in my throat. Clouds of red and debris make it all but impossible to see.
I struggle to keep my eyes open as I kick as hard as I can. Each stroke down is a stroke through water thick and heavy with blood.