We sprint in vain, trying desperately to escape the archers striking from the sky. One by one div?ners go down, pierced by an onslaught of arrows that never seems to end.
But the archers become a fear of the past as the suited seal of Or?sha spreads through the masses. Soldiers release the rabid panthenaires, allowing the ryders to sink their fangs straight through div?ner flesh. Above them, armored guards push through the crowd, swords raised and sharpened. They show no mercy, no discretion, slashing through everyone in their path.
“Tzain!” I scream, another voice in the chorus of shouts. He can’t die like Mama. He can’t leave me and Baba.
But the farther I run, the more bodies fall to the ground, the more spirits bleed into the earth. Lost in the crowd, Salim howls, sharp screams rising above every other cry.
“Salim!” I scream, charging for the sweet boy I spun in my arms. A guard rides toward him on a rabid panthenaire. Salim raises his hands in surrender.
He has no magic. No weapon. No way to fight.
The guard doesn’t care.
His sword slashes down.
“No!” I scream, insides aching at the sight. The blade rips straight through Salim’s small body.
He dies before he even hits the ground.
His dead eyes chill my blood. My heart. My bones.
We cannot win. We cannot live. We never stood a chan—
The sensation strikes me in my core, deep, as powerful as my beating heart.
It rattles the magic in my blood. It pulls the air from my lungs.
Kwame brushes past me, running for the heart of the battle. He grips a dagger tight in his hands.
Then he slashes open his palm.
Blood magic.
Horror settles into my bones.
It’s like the world slows to a stop, stretching the seconds between this moment and the last Kwame will ever have. His blood glows with a white light, splashing as it hits the ground.
In an instant the ivory light surrounds him, illuminating his dark skin like a god from above.
When it reaches the top of his head, it seals his fate.
A fire explodes from his skin.
Smoldering embers rain from his body. Flames blaze around his form. The fire erupts from every limb, shooting out of his mouth, his arms, his legs. The blast towers meters into the sky, a blaze so powerful it lights the horrors of the night. Shock stops the guards’ attack just as Kwame’s begins.
He punches his fists forward. Streams of fire crash through the settlement in smoldering waves. The flames incinerate everything in their path, blazing through the guards, destroying the camp.
The stench of burning flesh fills the air, mixed with the scent of blood.
Death strikes so quickly, soldiers don’t even have a chance to scream.
“Agh!” Kwame’s cries of agony rise above all else as he turns the night red. The blood magic tears through him, raw and unforgiving.
It’s grander than any flame a maji could conjure on his own. He burns with the power of his god, but it burns through him.
His dark face flushes red, veins tearing from within. His skin bubbles and scalds from his flesh, revealing corded muscle and hard bone. He can’t contain it. He can’t outlast it.
The blood magic eats him alive, yet still he uses his last breath to fight.
“Kwame!” Folake screams from the edge of the valley. A strong div?ner drags her back, keeping her from charging into the roaring fire.
A vortex of flames shoots from Kwame’s throat, pushing the guards even farther back. As he sears through their attack with the last seconds of his life, the div?ners react. My people flee in all directions, escaping through the flaming walls, leaving the wasteland in their path.
They live, fleeing the guards’ senseless attack.
Because of Kwame, because of his magic, they survive.
Staring at the blaze, it’s as if the entire world stops. The shouts and screams are muffled into nothingness. The festival fades to black. Inan’s promises play out before my eyes, our Or?sha, a pact the world won’t allow him to keep. Peace.
We will never have peace.
As long as we don’t have magic, they will never treat us with respect. Baba’s words simmer through my mind. They need to know we can hit them back. If they burn our homes, we burn theirs, too.
With one final cry, Kwame erupts like a dying star. Fire explodes in all directions, leaving the earth with the last remnants of himself.
As the final embers fall, my heart rips in my chest. I can’t believe I ever denied Baba’s truth. They’ll never allow us to thrive.
We will always be afraid.
Our only hope is to fight. Fight and win.
And to win, we need our magic.
I need that scroll.
“Zélie!”
My head snaps up. I don’t know how long I’ve stayed still. The world seems to travel in slow motion, weighed down by Kwame’s sacrifice, dragging with all my pain and guilt.
Tzain and Amari approach from the distance, riding on Nailah’s back. Tzain guides Nailah toward me through the chaos. Amari clutches my pack to her chest.
But as my name travels from his mouth, other guards take note. “The girl,” they scream to one another. “The girl! It’s her!”
Before I can take another step, hands wrap around my arms.
My chest.
My throat.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
AMARI
AS THE SUN RISES into the valley, a sob catches in my throat. The rays light the charred clearing where the procession occurred, the blackened remains of what was once a joyful place.
I stare at the scorched earth where Tzain and I danced, recalling how he twirled me, remembering the sound of his laugh.
All that remains now is blood. Hollow corpses. Ash.
I close my eyes and clasp my hand to my mouth, a futile attempt to block out the painful sight. Though it is silent, the cries of div?ners still echo in my mind. The shouts of the soldiers who slaughtered them follow, the clash of swords striking into flesh. I cannot bear to look, but Tzain scans the destruction, searching for Zélie among every fallen face.
“I don’t see her.”
Tzain’s voice is barely above a whisper, like if he speaks any louder, everything inside him will break: his rage, his pain, the heartache of having another family member ripped away.
Thoughts of Inan force their way into my mind: his promises, his potential lies. Though I can’t bring myself to search the dead, I can feel it in my core.
Inan’s corpse isn’t on this ground.
No part of me wants to believe this was his doing, yet I don’t know what to think. If this wasn’t his betrayal, how did the guards find us? Where is my brother now?
Nailah whimpers behind us, and I stroke her snout the way I’ve seen Zélie do so many times before. A lump rises in my throat when she nuzzles my hand back.
“I think they took her,” I say as delicately as I can. “It’s what my father would’ve ordered. She’s far too important to kill.”
I hope this will give him hope, but Tzain’s expression stays even. He stares at the bodies on the ground, his breaths escaping in short spurts.
“I promised.” His voice cracks. “When Mama died, I promised. I said I’d always be there. I swore I’d take care of her.”
“You have, Tzain. You always have.”