Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,162

convincing strut, wearing the commander’s armor with ease. With his sandstone skin and confident gait, even real commanding officers step out of his way.

Almost there, I think, stiffening when a soldier eyes us a moment too long. Each step toward the forest stretches into a breathless eternity. Tzain carries the bone dagger, while Amari’s grip tightens on the leather bag she uses to hide the sunstone and scroll; I keep my hand readied on my staff. But even when we pass the last of the perimeter troops, the soldiers barely spare us a glance. They keep their focus on the sea, waiting for a maji army that will never come.

“My gods,” I breathe to myself when we make it past the soldiers’ earshot. My fragile calm explodes into nerves. I force air into my lungs.

“We made it.” Amari grips my arm, skin paling beneath her helmet. Our first battle is over.

Now another one begins.

A cold fog rolls in as we travel into the forest, mist licking the trees. By the time we’ve journeyed a few kilometers, the fog is so thick it blocks out the sun and makes it hard to see.

“Strange,” Amari whispers into my ear, arms outstretched to avoid hitting a tree. “Do you think it is always like this?”

“I don’t know.” Something tells me the fog is a gift from the gods.

They’re on our side.…

They want us to win.

I cling to the words of my speech, praying that they’re true. The gods wouldn’t abandon us now; they wouldn’t fail me here. But as we near the temple, no warmth pulses through my veins. There’ll be no hiding in the fog soon.

I’ll be exposed for the world to see.

“How’d you know?” I whisper as the temple looms through the fog, thinking back to that fateful day in the market. “In Lagos, why’d you come to me?”

Amari turns, amber gaze bright through the white fog. “Because of Binta,” she answers softly. “She had silver eyes. Just like yours.”

With her words, something clicks—a sign of the greater hand. We’ve been led to this moment, pushed in the tiniest, most obscure ways. No matter how this day ends, we’re doing what the gods intend. But what could be their purpose when no magic flows from my veins?

I open my mouth to respond but stop when the spiritual energy thickens. It weighs us down like gravity, pushing against every step.

“Do you feel that?” Tzain whispers.

“It’s impossible not to.”

“What’s going on?” Roën calls back.

“It can only be—”

The temple …

No words can describe the sheer magnificence of the pyramid before us. It towers into the sky, each section carved from translucent gold. Like Chândomblé, intricate sênbaría decree the will of the gods. The symbols shine in the absence of light, but now that we’re here, the real battle begins.

“Rehema,” Roën orders. “Take your team to the edge of the southern shoreline. Raise hell on the beach and disappear into the fog. Follow Asha’s lead to get away.”

Rehema nods, pulling up her helmet until we can only see her light brown eyes. She bumps Roën’s fist before leading two men and two women into the fog.

“What do we do?” I ask.

“We wait,” Roën answers. “They should divert the army’s attention, freeing up the temple.”

Minutes stretch into hours, an eternity that drags like death. Each second that passes is another second my mind tumbles in guilt. What if they’re captured? What if they die? I can’t have any more people perish for this.

I can’t have more blood stain my hands.

A black plume rises in the distance. Rehema’s distraction. It pushes through the fog, reaching high into the sky. Within seconds, a sharp horn pierces through the air.

Guards stream out of the temple, taking off toward the southern shoreline. So many men race out that I quickly realize I can’t fathom the temple’s true size.

When the first flood of soldiers passes, Roën leads us in, pushing against the heavy air. We ascend the golden steps as fast as we can, not pausing until we reach the ground floor and enter the temple.

Vibrant jewels decorate every inch of the walls, exquisite in their design. Around us, Yemọja’s breathtaking image dots the golden walls in topaz and blue sapphire; waves of shimmering diamonds flow from each fingertip in light. Above us, the bright emeralds of Ògún glow, paying homage to his power over the earth. Through the crystal ceilings, I glimpse each plane—all ten floors dedicated to the gods.

“You guys…” Amari nears a stairwell in the center of the