Page 53 of Children of Anguish and Anarchy

The ships are silent as we pull into the remains of Lagos’s port. Nâo lifts her hands, moving the waters to bring us to land. She’s the first to jump from the boat. She reaches down, digging her hands into the dirt. Silent tears streak down her face. Khani joins her, falling to her knees. The Healer puts her arms around Nâo’s shoulders. I give them space as they grieve.

The moment I touch down to Orïsha’s soil, my entire body thrums. The force of my magic expands like a breath in my lungs. It leaks from my hands in turquoise wisps as voices fill my head.

“—I can’t believe it—”

“—thank the gods—”

“—I pray the clans still live—”

The swell becomes too much to bear. I leave the maji to embark, exploring the damaged docks on my own.

I remember the days when the docks teemed with life, long before magic’s return. An endless stream of boats moved in and out of the harbor on the hour. Sailors carted crates filled with livestock and foreign spices. Prosperity filled the air. I used to ride through with Admiral Kaea on Lula, my snow leopanaire.

The port I walk through now is a mere shadow of what once stood. With the exception of the wrecked ships peeking below the water’s surface, the entire harbor is bare. The storage houses that line the port lie in shambles.

In the distance, what’s left of the royal palace sits on a hill. Even from here, I see its broken walls, its smashed windows, its fallen towers. Clouds of smoke rise from the only home I’ve ever known. Staring at the palace, I feel the weight of my fallen crown.

Something crunches under my feet, and I bend down. Broken bones fall away, revealing the mask of a bronze Skull.

There are always enemies, Inan.

Father’s warning returns. A new flash of shame hits me like a battering ram. I look out at the deserted port, wondering how many ships the Skulls were able to fill while we were at war.

The sight of the mask fortifies my resolve. We have to change the tides in our fight. I fix my gaze on the palace once more, erasing any trepidation I felt before—

“Ògún, fún mi lágbára!” a voice calls.

All at once, the ground shifts around me. I step back as mounds of dirt shoot through busted planks. The risen earth cages me in, hardening around my arms and legs.

A large maji comes out of hiding. Dark green energy glows around his hands. He walks forward slowly, limping with one metal leg.

As more maji peek their heads out from damaged storage houses, I recognize their leader’s face—Kâmaru, the elder of the Grounders. He was one of the maji who laid the palace to waste.

“I’m not here to fight—”

Before I can finish speaking, the Grounder grabs my neck. I choke as he bends down, bringing his face to mine. One maji whispers my name, and calls travel of the returned king.

“What have you done with the maji?” Kâmaru growls.

“Kâmaru, wait!” Nâo’s call pulls the Grounder’s focus. At the sight of the lost elder, the anger falls from his face. He stares, confused, as Kenyon and the rest of the maji make their way through the port.

Kâmaru releases my neck to greet the others. Slowly, the maji reunite. Word starts to spread, and their numbers multiply.

Maji spill out of the destroyed ruins of the merchant quarter. They pour through the alleys of the marketplace. A line of maji even travels down from the ruins of the royal palace. White hair shines from kilometers away.

The way the maji swarm, realization strikes. TheIyikahave a hold on the city. They must have won the war. There isn’t one noble, tîtán, or soldier in sight—

BOOM!

I whip my head to the north. An explosion shudders through the air. Black smoke rises from beyond Lagos’s walls. Shouts ring from the jackalberry trees surrounding the city.

Inside Lagos, horns blare. Teams of maji gather at the city’s perimeter. Incantations ring as they summon their power, preparing to attack. Clouds of black majacite gas meet the orange plumes of Cancers’ poisonous gas.

They’re still fighting.…

My stomach drops as the realization takes hold. Nothing has changed in our time away.

Orïsha is just as divided as before.

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