Page 1 of Children of Anguish and Anarchy

PART I

CHAPTER ONE

ZÉLIE

HELP ME.

The quiet prayer waits on my lips—afraid to be spoken aloud, somehow knowing if I reach for help, only silence will follow. Heat hangs like the shackles around my neck. The air churns with the stench of the dead. A thick layer of dirt and grime coats every section of my skin. My bones ache from within.

Thunder rumbles like the pounding of canvased drums, stirring me from my haze. It draws me from my dark corner up to the curved iron bars that create my hanging cage. The metal shackles around my ankles clank together as I press my face as far into the bars as it will go. Fresh rain and sea spray break through the shaft above my cell.

I close my eyes and inhale.

Oya…

The name of my goddess fills me. It moves something in my soul. Her brewing storm calls out to me like a song. It holds the promise to make me whole.

For a few moments, the slanted rain washes away my pain. The distant thunder carries me back to better days. The whistling winds take me to the snowcapped mountains of Ibadan, the village I lived in before the Raid. I used to shake in my cot when the thunder roared.

It was Mama who taught me not to fear the rain.

“You must not be afraid, my love.” Even after all these years, the memory of Mama’s voice wraps around my heart. I feel the warmth of her soft fingers against my cheek. The gentle cadence she used to speak.

“Oya doesn’t just visit us in death,” Mama whispered into my ear. “We can feel her presence in the storms and the racing winds.”

I remember the way Mama coaxed me out of bed, past Baba and Tzain, fast asleep in their hanging cots. It wasn’t the first night she brought me to the mountaintop, but it was the first time she brought me to meet the storm.

She took my hand and led me up a winding trail. I could hardly see beyond the tangle the winds made of my white hair. Our bare feet slid along the gravel-lined path. Every time I tried to turn back, Mama forced me to go on.

By the time we reached the flattened mountain peak, the huts of our sleeping village looked like anthills hundreds of meters below. Jagged silhouettes flickered around us every time a lightning bolt lit up the sky. I felt like I could reach over the peak’s edge and touch the clouds.

“Feel her, Zélie.”

My tiny frame shivered in the pounding rain, but the violent downpour only made Mama feel more alive. She stretched her long arms wide and raised her head to the chaos above.

When the lightning crackled around her, she looked like a god.

“That’s it, little Zél.” Mama nodded. I closed my eyes and lifted my hands to the raging skies. “Oya’s storms don’t just bring the rain. They’re our harbinger of her sacred change.”

I hold on to the memory of Mama’s words until my eyes begin to sting. Every time I think I can’t lose anything else, I lose everything.

I’ve lost count of how many times over the past moon I’ve called outto my gods. How many times nothing but sorrow has answered in return. I cannot bear to hope anymore.

The more I hope, the further I fall.

“No! No, please!”

Sharp screams break through the wooden floorboards above. I wince as the girl’s shrieks grow. I don’t know what hurts more—the sound of the maji’s screams, or the haunting silence that follows when they stop.

There have always been enemies to fight. Always those who wished the maji harm. I knew our battles might never end. But I never thought those battles would stretch beyond Orïsha’s borders.

It’s been almost a full moon since the Skulls descended upon Orïsha’s shores. A full moon since my fellow maji and I were ripped away from our home. After we awoke on the ship, they separated the boys from the girls.

That was the last time I saw my brother, Tzain.

At first, I had the other female elders—the captured members of the resurrected maji clans. But for the past half-moon, I’ve been locked in this hold alone, left to face the Skulls’ torture on my own.

I still don’t know why they’ve taken us. I don’t know to where we sail. All I know is that before the Skulls abducted us, the maji were closer to victory than we’d ever been before.

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