Page 48 of Children of Virtue and Vengeance

“Mo gbà. Mà á se é.”My throat tightens with the weight of my vow. “I will protect these Reapers with everything I have.”

Mama Agba wipes the single tear that falls from her eye before dipping her thumb into a canister of glittering purple pigment. She paints a crescent along my forehead and a sharp line along my jaw. The entire mountain is silent as she finishes her blessing with an intricate design over my left eye. I keep still as she surrounds my feet with offerings of cinnamon and sweetgrass.

“I know your parents are proud.” She kisses my forehead. “As am I.”

I smile, thinking of what they would say if they were here now. Mama would’ve become the youngest Reaper elder in history. Now that honor falls to me.

“Your hand, my child.”

I extend my palm and she pulls out a black dagger.

“Let your vow be recorded in blood,” she declares. “Before your people. Before your gods!”

Mama Agba makes a clean cut across my palm and slams my hand into the center of the circle. I lurch forward as the stone lights up. Magic heats the air around me as more than blood is pulled from my form.

Gasps echo throughout the crowd as my hand bonds to the stone surface. The purple light spreads like the threads of a giant spiderweb. Embers crackle around my head. Veins bulge against my skin.

With a flash, the light beneath me explodes in clouds of purple smoke. The fog is so thick that even Mama Agba disappears. The smoke swallows all sound.

The rest of the mountain fades away as my vision blacks out. My tattoos hum against my neck.

Then Oya lights up the dark.

My gods…

No matter how many times I witness her power, it always steals the air from my throat. I can’t breathe as Oya swirls before me, larger than life itself. Her skirts spin in a brilliant hurricane of red. A deep purple light glows around her obsidian skin. A teardrop of ashê breaks from her hand, glowing brighter as it falls through the blackness.

Every muscle in my body tenses as I prepare for her gift, the sacred wisdom only anìsípayácan give. It was a Tamer’sìsípayáthat led to the massive ryders we use today. A Reaper’sìsípayáthat gave birth to the first animations. The same hunger I had as a child consumes me now as I open my hands, waiting for mine.

The teardrop of ashêfloats into my palms and my eyes light with its purple glow. My skin heats as theìsípayátakes hold.

It starts with a purple ribbon of light, spinning from my chest likea thread. A ribbon of gold appears next, twisting out of the blackness. Tangerines and emeralds join the fold, each light weaving themselves together. They intertwine like the roots of a mammoth tree, creating a power so great it roars like a lionaire.

Questions fill my mind as I extend my hand, reaching out to touch the spinning rainbow of magic. But as my fingers approach its searing heat, the ribbons of light disappear.

I snap back into the present.

“Ugh!”I wheeze, pitching forward onto my knees. I hold up my shaking palm, but any sign of Mama Agba’s cut is gone.

When the smoke clears, Mama Agba extends her hand. Pride shines through her brown eyes as she helps me to my feet.

The rainbow of myìsípayáfills my mind as Mama Agba turns me to face the crowd. When she raises up my arm, my heart sings as the entire mountain roars.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

INAN

AS THE SUNsets on Lagos, I finally decide how to respond to theIyika’s attack on our rations. Right now we’re sitting ducks, but if I could locate their camp, we could launch our own offense.

If I don’t free Lagos from their grasp, we won’t have a shot at winning this war. At this rate, they’ll storm our broken walls or let us starve to death.

I have to act now. Before it’s too late.

I wait until night falls. Until the sliver of candlelight turns to blackness outside Father’s door. By the time all falls quiet in the palace, a half-moon hangs in the smoke-filled sky.

I crawl out of bed, replacing my embroidered robe with a tattered kaftan. A stolen canister of black pigment sits under my pillow. I pull it out and cover the white streak in my hair.

Hopefully this is enough.I shift, inspecting my reflection in Father’s mirror. The last time I wore something so simple, I was with my sister and Zélie in the divîner camp. It all seems so far away, it feels like it never happened at all. Back then I was only a prince. Zélie wasn’t the Soldier of Death.

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