Page 67 of Children of Virtue and Vengeance

She closes her eyes and I can almost feel her prayer.

“Alright,” she sighs. “Let’s get those scrolls.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

AMARI

EVERY CHEST EXHALESas Kâmarutunnels through the temple walls. Our footsteps echo against the cool stone when we enter Chândomblé’s long and narrow halls. The last time we were here, the temple felt alive; it was as if I could touch the magic oscillating through the air. But this time, the entire mountain shakes. It vibrates like the new power flowing through my veins.

“Amazing.” Mâzeli runs his hands along the gold-mounted torches fastened to the walls. They light as we approach, as if beckoning us to travel further. A steady drip still echoes through the halls. I can almost hear the rhythmic thud of Lekan’s staff.Thank you,I think to his spirit.

Without his sacrifice, we wouldn’t have magic at all.

“Which way?” I turn to Dakarai as he binds his frizzy curls.

“Relax your hands,” the Seer mutters to himself. “Feel the weight of time.”

I can almost picture Mama Agba by his side, whispering the instructions he repeats now.

“Bàbá olójó,”he starts the incantation.“Se àfihàn àsìkò—”

Unlike before, his magic appears like silver sparks of flint striking a match. The hairs on my neck rise as the air cools around us, a chill traveling to the space between his hands.

The silver sparks writhe like smoke, giving birth to the swath of night that grows beyond Dakarai’s palms. I breathe in as hundreds of suspended stars fill the long hall.

“It’s so big,” I whisper to Zélie. “So much stronger than before.”

“It’s the temple,” she explains. “Our magic is stronger inside these walls.”

One by one, each speck of light expands, creating a window to the past. We watch with wide eyes and full hearts as the first star grows, showing two sêntaros hand in hand.

“Bàbá olójó, se àfihàn àsìkò—”

Dakarai’s magic pulls the memories out of thin air, creating a mosaic of the souls who have walked this very spot. Like ghosts, robed sêntaros pass by, white symbols traveling up their bare arms. Dakarai allows the other images to fade until there’s only one left.

We marvel at the mamaláwo distinguished by her ornate headdress. Unlike her brothers and sisters, her robes are cut from an elegant fabric that flows like liquid silver across her dark skin. I step closer to inspect the image, but it disappears into thin air. Dakarai continues to chant, summoning the mamaláwo meters ahead.

“This one will show us the path to the scroll room,” Zélie explains as we fall in line behind our Seer. We follow along as Dakarai’s magic forms bread crumbs out of the past, creating a trail that leads us through Chândomblé’s twisting halls.

“I recognize this.” Zélie places her palm against a heart-shaped indentation in the gray stone when we turn into a new hall.

“We’re close.” Dakarai points up the stairwell. “If this is right, it should be just around this corner—”

The clank of metal soles stops us in our tracks. We look up the stairwell to find three new shadows, silhouettes growing as they near.

“Retreat,” I hiss, backing down the stairs as fast as I can. The othersrush to follow, but smack into each other. My stomach drops as Mâzeli pitches forward.

“Grab him!” I whisper.

Zélie extends her hand, but it’s too late. Mâzeli hits the stone with a low thud.

The clanking footsteps come to a sharp stop.

“General Jokôye?” a soldier calls. “Is that you?”

He moves down the steps, carrying a torch that lights all of our faces.

For a moment, we all stand still, frozen in shock. Then the soldier grabs his horn.

---