Page 31 of Children of Blood and Bone

I crush the spark inside of me before it can blossom into hope. If magic’s back, that changes everything. If it’s truly returned I don’t even know what to think.

With magic come the gods, thrust into the center of my life aftereleven years of silence. I barely picked up the shattered pieces of me after the Raid.

If they abandon me once more, I won’t be able to do it again.

“Can you feel it?” Amari’s voice drops to a whisper as she takes a step back. “Kaea said the scroll transforms divîners into maji. When Binta touched it, all these lights burst from her hands!”

I turn up my palm, searching for the lavender glow of Reaper magic. Before the Raid, when a divîner transformed, there was no guarantee what kind of maji that divîner would be. Often divîners inherited the magic of their parents, almost always deferring to the magic in their mother’s bloodline. With a kosidán father, I was sure I would become a Reaper like Mama. I longed for the day I would feel the magic of the dead in my bones, but right now all I can feel is an unnerving tingle in my veins.

I pick up the parchment with care, wary it’ll trigger something again. While I can make out a yellow painting of the sun on the weathered scroll, the rest of the symbols are unreadable, so ancient they look older than time itself.

“Don’t tell me you believe this.” Tzain lowers his voice. “Magic’s gone, Zél. It’s never coming back.”

I know he’s just trying to protect me. These are words he’s had to tell me before, wiping my tears, stifling his own. Words I’ve always listened to, but this time…

“Others who touched the scroll.” I turn to Amari. “They’re maji now? Their gifts returned?”

“Yes.” She nods, eagerly at first, but with time her enthusiasm fades. “Their magic came back… but Father’s men got to them.”

My blood chills as I stare at the scroll. Though Mama’s corpse flashes into my mind, it’s not her face I picture bloodied and beaten.

It’s mine.

But she didn’t have her magic, a small voice reminds me.She didn’t have a chance to fight.

And like that, I’m six years old again, curled behind the fire in our Ibadan home. Tzain wraps his arms around me and points me toward the wall, forever trying to shield me from the world’s pain.

Crimson splatters into the air as the guard beats Baba again and again. Mama screams for them to stop while two soldiers jerk the chain over her neck, so tight the majacite links draw blood from her skin.

She chokes as they drag her from the hut like an animal, kicking and thrashing.

Except this time, she would have magic.

This time, she could win.

I close my eyes and let myself imagine what could have been.

“Gb3ariwo ikú!” Mama hisses through her teeth, given new life with my imagination.“Pa ipòdà. Jáde nínú1j1ara!”

The guards strangling her freeze, shaking violently as her incantation takes hold. They scream as she rips their spirits from their bodies, killing them with the wrath of a Reaper in full command of her gifts. Mama’s magic feeds off her rage. With the dark shadows twisting around her, she looks like Oya, the Goddess of Life and Death herself.

With a guttural cry, Mama tears the chain from her neck and wraps the black links around the remaining guard’s throat. With magic, she saves Baba’s warrior spirit.

With magic, she’s still alive.

“If what you say is true”—Tzain’s anger cuts into my imagination—“you can’t stay. They’re killing people for this. If they catch it with Zél—”

His voice cracks and my heart rips into so many pieces I don’t know if my chest will hold. I could screw everything up for the remainder of his days, yet Tzain would still die trying to keep me safe.

I need to protect him. It’s his turn to be saved.

“We have to go.” I roll the parchment and place it in my pack, moving so quickly I almost forget the silver-filled purse on the ground. “Real or not, we have to get back to Baba. Escape while we still can.”

Tzain swallows his frustration and mounts Nailah. I crawl on behind him when the princess speaks, shy like a child.

“W-what about me?”

“What about you?” I ask. My hatred for her family flares. Now that we have the scroll, I long to leave Amari stranded in the forest, let her starve or become a hyenaire’s prey.

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