Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi Page 0,53

Yoruba, giving us the tongue to cast our magic.

“They’re beautiful,” I respond.

The man nods. “The things Sky Mother creates always are.”

Amari opens her mouth but shuts it quickly, as if thinking better of it. Something bristles inside me as she walks, gaping at things that only the most powerful maji in history have a right to see.

She clears her throat and appears to dig deep, finding her voice once again. “Pardon me,” she asks. “But do you have a name?”

The sêntaro turns around and wrinkles his nose. “Everyone has a name, child.”

“Oh, I did not mean—”

“Lekan,” he cuts her off. “Olamilekan.”

The syllables tickle the furthest corners of my brain. “Olamilekan,” I repeat. “My wealth … is increased?”

Lekan turns to me with a gaze so steady I’m convinced he sees into my soul. “You remember our tongue?”

“Bits and pieces.” I nod. “My mother taught it to me when I was young.”

“Your mother was a Reaper?”

My mouth falls open in surprise. You can’t identify a maji’s powers on sight alone.

“How did you know?” I ask.

“I can sense it,” Lekan answers. “Reaper blood runs thick through your veins.”

“Can you sense magic in people who aren’t maji or divîners?” The question spills out of me, Inan coming to mind. “Is it possible for kosidán to have magic in their blood?”

“As sêntaros, we do not make that distinction. Everything is possible when it comes to the gods. All that matters is Sky Mother’s will.”

He turns, leaving me with more questions than answers. What part of Sky Mother’s will involves Inan’s hands wrapped around my throat?

I try to push thoughts of him away as we move. It feels like we’ve traveled a full kilometer through the tunnels before Lekan leads us into a dark and wide dome hollowed out in the mountain. He raises his hands with the same gravitas as before, making the air buzz with spiritual energy.

“Ìm3lè àwọn òrìshà,” he chants, the Yoruba incantation flowing from his lips like water. “Tàn sí mi ní kíá báàyí. Tan ìm3lè sí ìpàs1 awọn ọmọ rẹ!”

All at once the flames lining the walls go out, just like Tzain’s makeshift torch. But in an instant, they reignite with new life, blanketing every inch of stone with light.

“Oh…”

“My…”

“Gods…”

We marvel as we enter the dome decorated with a mural so magnificent I can hardly speak. Each meter of stone is covered in vibrant paints illustrating the ten gods, the maji clans, everything in between. It’s so much more than the crude pictures of the gods that used to exist before the Raid, the occasional hidden painting, the rare woven tapestry only brought out under the cover of darkness. Those were flickering rays of light. This mural is like staring at the face of the sun.

“What is this?” Amari breathes, spinning to take in the sights all at once.

Lekan motions us over and I pull Amari along, steadying her when she stumbles. He presses his hands into the stone before answering, “The origin of the gods.”

His golden eyes spark and bright energy escapes his palm, feeding into the wall. As the light travels along the paint, the art glows and the figures slowly come to life.

“Skies,” Amari curses, gripping my wrist. Magic and light bloom as each painting’s soul animates before our eyes.

“In the beginning, our Sky Mother created the heavens and the earth, bringing life to the vast darkness.” Bright lights swirl from the palms of the elderly woman I recognize as the statue on the first floor. Her purple robes glide like silk around her regal form as the new worlds spring to life. “On earth, Sky Mother created humans, her children of blood and bone. In the heavens she gave birth to the gods and goddesses. Each would come to embody a different fragment of her soul.”

Though I’ve heard Mama tell this story before, it’s never felt as real as it does now. It transcends the realm of fables and myths into actual history. We all stare with wide eyes and open mouths as humans and gods spring from Sky Mother at once. While the humans fall to the brown earth, the newborn deities float into the clouds above.

“Sky Mother loved all her children, each created in her image. To connect us all, she shared her gifts with the gods, and the first maji were born. Each deity took a part of her soul, a magic they were meant to gift to the humans below. Yemọja took the tears from Sky Mother’s eyes and became the Goddess of