Page 157 of Children of Blood and Bone

In that moment the entire world explodes.

Arrows fly and swords flash as the guards unleash their attack.

“Zél, come on!” Inan yanks on my arm, pulling me back. But as he tries to steer me away, one thought fills my mind. Oh gods.

Tzain.

Before Inan can object, I take off, stumbling more than once as I return to the valley. Screams of terror fill the night. Divîners run in all directions.

We sprint in vain, trying desperately to escape the archers striking from the sky. One by one divîners 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 Orïsha spreads through the masses. Soldiers release the rabid panthenaires, allowing the ryders to sink their fangs straight through divîner 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 morespirits 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.

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