Page 144 of Children of Virtue and Vengeance

She wraps her arms around me, enveloping me in the smell ofsweetened tea. More tears fall as I breathe it in, savoring the scent of her love.

“I won’t let you do this.”

“You have no choice,” she says. “Our people need you.”

“They need you more.” I squeeze the folds of her robes, thinking of all she built. All she saved. The maji would’ve died ten times over if it weren’t for every effort she made. My entire family would’ve perished.

Mama Agba takes my hand in her own, quieting my objections with her touch. She doesn’t speak as she leads me down the winding path away from Amari’s cell. She stares at the clouds that pass over the mountain’s ledge.

“Do you remember when I told you about myìsípayá?” she asks. “When I ascended years ago, I saw myself kneeling on a mountaintop. Sky Mother welcomed me with open arms.” She turns to me, mahogany eyes shining. “At the time, I thought I was peeking into the beyond. Now I see my vision was of you all along.”

She kisses my forehead, using her robes to wipe my tears. She holds me as I sob, fighting the sacrifice she tries to make.

“I can’t.” My voice cracks. “I can’t do this alone.”

“You do not have to do this by yourself. You carry all of us in your heart.” She takes my hand and lays it over my chest, lacing our fingers together. “We shall live in every breath you take. Every incantation you speak.”

A smile spreads across her dark skin, crinkling the skin around her eyes.

“You are the children of the gods. You shall never be alone.”

WHEN I REACHthe mountaintop, it’s so quiet my footsteps echo like thunder. The ten maji stand in a circle. Amari watches from behind Tzain, her arms still bound in metal restraints.

The elders bow as they step back, creating a single path. Their bodies align to form a perfect circle.

All that’s missing is its center.

You can do this.I dig my nails into my palms as I walk forward. Pointed pillars close around us like a fence, circling the flat mountaintop. Beyond the red stone, the setting sun paints the sky in vibrant reds and burning oranges. It brings me back to the days when Mama walked this very path, preparing to lead the Reapers of Ibadan.

You carry all of us in your heart. We shall live in every breath you take. Every incantation you speak.

Mama Agba’s promise swells inside me as I remember how the sunlight would shine through my mother’s coils. Today it runs through my own, bathing my white hair in gold. I hold my breath as I step into the center of the circle.

Ahead of me, Dakarai moves to bring Mama Agba in, his round face somber. Pressure builds in my chest as her cane smacks against the hard stone. But every wall I have falls the moment I face her. It’s impossible to fight my tears.

Mama Agba glides forward in a shining suit of armor, silver collar gleaming around her neck. Her silk cloak moves like clouds in the wind. Kâmaruhas even fashioned her a glistening cane. Her white coils sit like a crown on her head.

She’s never looked more beautiful.

“Nana—”Na’imah sings under her breath, starting Sky Mother’s song. Her voice rings in our silence, a melody to accompany our grief. When the others join in, Mama Agba closes her eyes and rests her hands over her heart. She takes everything in before turning to Dakarai.

“My elder,” Mama Agba addresses him, wiping the tears that streak his russet-toned skin. “You are the dream of our people. Never doubt what you can achieve. Trust the things you see.”

Dakarai nods and wipes the snot from his nose. Mama Agba kisses his forehead and holds him tight before letting go. I expect her to make her way forward, but she walks to Kâmaru. She stops in front of each person in the circle, passing on words of wisdom. Even in her final moments, she guides us forward.

A Seer until the end.

“My brave boy.” Mama Agba wiggles Tzain’s ear. “You have grown into an even braver man.”

She makes Tzain laugh through his pain. He wipes his eyes and grabs her hand.

“Thank you for everything.”

She pulls him close, rubbing her hand up and down his back. “Take care of them. But do not forget to take care of yourself.”

“Please don’t do this.” Amari’s voice cracks with tears. She hangs her head when Mama Agba steps in front of her, metal restraints still clinking around her wrists.

“You are not your mistakes.” Mama Agba holds both of her shoulders, making Amari cry harder. “Do not let one moment define or destroy you. The gods work in mysterious ways. Have faith in their greater plan.”

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