I USED TO DREAM of climbing.
Late at night, when everyone in the palace had gone to sleep. Binta and I would run through the painted halls by torchlight, skidding over the tiled floors in our trek to Father’s war room. Hand in hand, we drew the torch over the handwoven map of Orïsha, a map that seemed as large as life itself to our young eyes. I thought Binta and I would see the world together.
I thought if we left the palace, we could be happy.
Now as I cling to the side of the third mountain we’ve climbed today, I question why I ever dreamed of ascending anything higher than the palace stairwell. Sweat clings to my skin, soaking through the rough cloth of my black dashiki. An endless swarm of mosquitoes buzz and sting at my back, feasting because I can’t bear to let go of the mountain long enough to swat them away.
Another full day of travel has passed, along with, thankfully, one night of restful sleep. Though the weather warmed once we left Sokoto and made our way farther into the jungle, I felt Tzain lay his cloak over me again just as I began to fall asleep. With our new supplies, eating comes easy. Even foxer meat and coconut milk start to taste like seasoned hen and tea from the palace kitchen. I thought things were finally improving, but now my chest is so tight I can barely breathe.
This late into the day we’ve ascended thousands of meters, giving us startling views of the jungle beneath. Greens of all hues cover the land, creating endless canopies beneath our feet. A rushing river curves through the tropical brush, marking the only water in sight. It grows smaller and smaller as we climb, shrinking until it’s only a thin blue line.
“How can anything exist up here?” I ask in between pants. I take a deep breath and give the rock above my head a firm pull. Earlier in our journey, I wouldn’t test my handholds. My scraped knees are a reminder not to repeat that mistake.
When the rock holds firm, I hoist myself farther up the mountain, wedging my bare feet into a crack. The urge to cry wells up inside me, but I force it down. I’ve already hidden my tears twice. It would be humiliating to weep again.
“She’s right,” Tzain calls from behind me, searching for an area wide enough for Nailah to clamber up. Their lionaire is skittish after almost slipping off the last mountain. Now she climbs only after Tzain proves it’s safe.
“Just keep going,” Zélie calls from above. “It’s here. It has to be here.”
“Did you actually see it?” Tzain asks.
I think back to the moment in Mama Agba’s hut, the moment the future exploded before our eyes. It all looked so magical back then. Stealing the scroll actually felt like a good idea.
“We saw ourselves climbing…,” I start.
“But did you see this legendary temple?” Tzain presses. “Just because Mama Agba saw us climbing doesn’t mean Chândomblé’s actually real.”
“Stop talking and keep climbing!” Zélie shouts. “Trust me. I know it’s real.”
It’s the same reasoning she’s been shouting all day, the stubbornness that’s carried us from cliff to cliff. Reality and logic don’t matter to her. She needs this so badly, failure isn’t even in the realm of possibilities.
I look down to reply to Tzain, but the sight of jungle trees thousands of meters below makes my muscles seize. I press my body against the mountain and clench the rocks tightly.
“Hey,” Tzain calls. “Don’t look down. You’re doing great.”
“You’re lying.”
He almost smiles. “Just keep climbing.”
My beating pulse fills my ears as I look back up. The next ledge is in sight. Though my legs shake, I push myself farther up. Sweet skies, if Binta could see me now.
Her beautiful face bleeds into my mind in all its former glory. For the first time since I watched her die, I picture her alive, smiling and by my side. There was one night in the war room when she undid her bonnet. Her ivory hair fell in silky sheets around her head.
And what shall you wear when we cross the Olasimbo Range? she teased when I told her my plans for our escape to the Adetunji Sea. Even if you were on the run, the queen herself would drop dead before she allowed you to wear trousers. She put her hand on her head and pretended to shriek, mimicking Mother’s pitch. I laughed so hard that night I nearly wet myself.
Despite the circumstances, a smile comes to my face. Binta could impersonate everybody in the palace. Yet my smile falls as I think of our lost dreams and abandoned plans. I thought we could escape through the tunnels beneath the palace. Once we got out, we would never go back. It all felt so certain in that moment, but did Binta always know it was a dream she’d never see?
The question haunts me as I reach the next ledge and pull myself over. The mountain flattens out for a brief stretch, wide enough for me to lie down in the wild grass.
As I drop to my knees, Zélie collapses in a garden of native bromeliads, crushing the vibrant red and purple petals under her feet. I bend down and breathe in their sweet scent. Binta would’ve loved these.
“Can we stay here?” I ask as the clove fragrance calms me. I can’t imagine climbing any higher. The promise of Chândomblé can only take us so far.
I lift my head as Nailah claws her way onto the ledge. Tzain follows after, dripping with sweat. He peels off his sleeveless dashiki and I lower my eyes—the last time I saw a boy’s bare body my nannies were giving Inan and me baths.
A warm flush rises to my cheeks as I realize how far from the palace I’ve truly come. Though it’s not illegal for royals and kosidán to consort the way it is for maji and kosidán, Mother would have Tzain jailed for what he’s just done.
I scoot away, eager to put more space between Tzain’s bare skin and my blushing face. But as I move, my fingers knock against something smooth and hollow.
I turn and find myself face-to-face with a cracked skull.
“Skies!” I shout, and crawl backward, hairs rising on the nape of my neck. Zélie jumps to her feet and expands her staff, ready to fight at a moment’s notice.
“What is it?” she asks.
I point to the fractured skull, lying on top of a pile of crushed bones. A gaping hole above its eye socket signals its violent death.
“Could it be another climber?” I ask. “Someone who did not make it through?”
“No,” Zélie answers with a strange confidence. “It’s not that.” She tilts her head and bends down for a closer look. A chill passes through the air. Zélie reaches down, stretching her hand out toward the cracked bone. Her fingers barely graze the skull when—
I gasp as the sweltering jungle heat around us snaps to a freezing cold. The chill bites through my skin, cutting straight to the bone. But the icy rush only lasts an instant. As quick as it comes, it vanishes, leaving us bewildered on the mountainside.
“Ugh!” Zélie wheezes like she’s been brought back to life. She grips the bromeliads so tightly the flowers rip straight off their stems.
“What in gods’ names was that?” Tzain asks.
Zélie shakes her head, eyes growing wider and wider by the second. “I felt him. It was his spirit … his life!”
“Magic,” I realize. No matter how many times I see it, the displays never fail to conflict me. Even as Father’s childhood warnings of magic resurface, my heart fills with awe.
“Come on!” Zélie dashes forward, scurrying up the next incline. “That was stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. The temple has to be near!”
I scramble after her, casting aside my fear in my desire to reach the last ledge. When I pull myself up over the final cliff, I can’t believe my eyes. Chândomblé.
It’s actually here.
Moss-covered bricks are piled in mountains of rubble, coating every inch of the plateau. The destruction is all that remains of the temples and shrines that once covered this land. Unlike the jungle and mountains below, no crickets chirp, no birds squawk, no mosquitoes sing. The only signs that life ever existed are the shattered skulls littered around our feet.
Zélie pauses before a skull, brows knitting though nothing happens.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Its spirit…” She bends down. “It’s rising.”
“Rising where?” I step back, stumbling over a piece of rubble. Another chill fills me with unspoken dread, but I can’t decipher if it’s real or just in my head.
“I don’t know.” Zélie rubs her neck. “Something about the temple is amplifying my ashê. I can actually feel my magic.”
Before I can ask another question, Zélie bends down and touches another skull.
My hand flies to my chest; this time it’s not an icy cold that flashes around her, but an image, tinted in gold. Magnificent temples and towers rise, stunning structures adorned with elegant waterfalls. Dark men, women, and children in fine suede robes roam, beautiful lines and symbols dotting their skin in elegant swirls of white.
Though the flash lasts only an instant, the image of the lush grounds stains my memory as I look at the broken rubble before me. Chândomblé used to be radiant.
Now it’s only air.
“What do you think happened here?” I ask Zélie, though I fear I already know. Father destroyed the beauty of magic in my life. Why wouldn’t he have done the same throughout the world?
I wait for Zélie to answer, but she doesn’t respond. Her face hardens with each passing second—she’s seeing more, something I can’t.
A soft lavender light begins to glow from her fingers, surfacing as she explores her powers for the first time. Watching her, my curiosity builds. What else can she see? Though the thought of magic still makes my pulse race, part of me wishes I could experience its rush just once. The rainbow that burst from Binta’s hand begins to fill my mind until I hear Tzain call.
“Check this out.”
We follow Tzain’s voice until we’re facing the only standing structure on the mountain. The temple towers into the sky, built against the ledge of the last rock’s incline. Unlike the stone bricks, this structure’s crafted from blackened metal, streaked with yellows and pinks that suggest it once shone gold. Vines and moss grow up the sides, obscuring endless rows of ancient runes carved into the temple’s frieze.
Zélie moves toward the doorless entrance, but Nailah lets out a small growl. “Okay, Nailah.” Zélie gives her nose a kiss. “Stay here, alright?”
Nailah grunts and collapses behind a pile of broken stone. With Nailah settled, we walk through the opening and greet a magical aura so thick even I can feel its weight in the room. Tzain scoots closer to Zélie as I run my hand against the air; the oscillations of magical energy slip through my fingers like grains of falling sand.
Rays of light peek through the cracked oculus above, illuminating the patterned dome ceiling. The designs feed into rows of pillars, decorated with colored glass and shimmering crystals.
Why didn’t they destroy this? I wonder as I run my fingers along the carvings. The temple is strangely untouched, a lone tree in a scorched forest.
“See any doors?” Tzain calls from the other side of the room.
“Nothing,” Zélie calls back. The only visible fixture is a large statue pressed against the back wall, collecting dust and overgrown vines. We walk over, and Tzain runs his hands over the weathered stone. The statue appears to be that of an elderly woman, cloaked in rich robes. A golden crown sits in her sculpted white coils, the only untarnished metal in sight.
“Is it a goddess?” I ask, inspecting the sculpture up close. In all my years, I’ve never seen a rendering of a single deity. No one would dare place one in the palace. I always assumed the first time I saw a god or goddess, it would be depicted like the royal portraits hanging in the main hall. But despite its tarnish, this statue holds a regal air even the most stunning painting couldn’t achieve.
“What’s this?” Tzain points to an object in the woman’s hand.
“It looks like a horn.” Zélie reaches up to inspect it. “It’s strange.…” She runs her hand across its rusted metal. “I can almost hear it in my head.”
“What’s it saying?” I ask.
“It’s a horn, Amari. It’s not saying anything.”
My cheeks flush. “Well, if it’s a sculpture, it shouldn’t be making sounds at all!”
“Just be quiet.” Zélie hushes me and places both hands on the metal. “I think it’s trying to tell me something.”
I hold my breath as her brows pinch. After a few long moments, her hands begin to glow with a glittering, silver light. The horn seems to feed on her ashê, glowing brighter as she strains.
“Be careful,” Tzain warns.
“I am.” Zélie nods, though she begins to shake. “It’s close. It just needs one more push—”
A slow creak rumbles under our feet. I yelp at the sound. We whip around in surprise as a large tile slides away from the floor. The opening reveals a staircase spiraling down into a room so dark it masks everything in blackness.
“Is it safe?” I whisper. The darkness makes my heartbeat spike. I lean down to get a better look, but there isn’t a source of light in sight.
“There’s no other door.” Zélie shrugs. “What choice do we have?”
Tzain runs outside, returning with a charred femur bone wrapped in a torn bit of his cloak. Zélie and I recoil, but he brushes past us and lights the cloth with our flint, creating a makeshift torch.
“Follow me,” he says, his commanding voice diminishing my fear.
We begin our descent with Tzain leading the way. Though the torch’s bubble of light illuminates our steps, it touches nothing more. I keep a hand on the jagged wall, counting my breaths until we finally reach the next floor. The moment my foot leaves the last step, the opening above us slams shut with a deafening crack.
“Skies!”
My shriek rings through the darkness. I fling myself into Zélie. “What do we do now?” I tremble. “How do we get out of here?”
Tzain turns to run back up the stairs but stops when we hear a hissing in the air. Within seconds, his torch blows out, leaving us in total blackness.
“Tzain!” Zélie shouts.
The hiss grows louder until a warm gust of air hits me like rain. When I inhale, it instantly slows my muscles then begins to cloud my mind.
“Poison,” Tzain manages to croak before I hear the thud of his body hitting the ground. I don’t even have a chance to feel afraid before the darkness takes hold.