Page 208 of Children of Blood and Bone

This truth holds me close, rocking me like a child in a mother’s arms. It binds me in its love as death swallows me into its grasp.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

ZÉLIE

IALWAYS PICTURED DEATHas a winter wind, but heat surrounds me like the oceans of Ilorin.

A gift, I think into the peace and darkness of alâfia. Payment for my sacrifice.

What other reward could there be but an end to an endless fight?

“Mama,ÒrìsàMama,ÒrìsàMama,àwáún dúp1péegb3igbe wa—”

Voices hum through my skin as the rich sound rings through the blackness. Silver shrouds of light swirl into the darkness, bathing me in their beautiful notes. As the song continues, a snowflake of light falls through the darkness with a voice that sings louder than the others. It leads them in worship and praise, ringing through the shrouds.

“Mama, Mama, Mama—”

The light’s voice is smooth like silk, soft like velvet. It wraps itself around my form, drawing me to its warmth. And though I can’t feel my body, I float through the blackness toward it.

I’ve heard this sound before.

I know this voice. This love.

The song grows louder and louder, fueling the light. It evolves from a snowflake, taking shape before my eyes.

Her feet emerge first, skin black as the night sky. It’s radiant againsther red silk robes, rich and flowing on her unearthly form. Gold jewelry drips from her wrists, her ankles, her neck; all highlight the shimmering headdress hanging from her forehead.

I bow as the chorus rings, unable to believe I lie at Oya’s feet. But when the goddess lifts the headdress embedded in her thick mane of white hair, her dark brown eyes make my heart stop.

The last time I saw these eyes they were empty, void of the woman I loved. Now they dance, shimmering tears falling from their lids.

“Mama?”

It can’t be.

Though my mother wore the face of the sun, she was human. She was a part of me.

But when this spirit touches my face, the familiar love spreads through my body. Tears fall from her beautiful brown eyes as she whispers, “Hello, my little Zél.”

Hot tears sting my eyes as I collapse into her spiritual embrace. Her warmth soaks into my being, making every crack whole. I feel all the tears I’ve cried, every prayer I’ve ever sent. I see every time I looked up in our ahéréand wished she sat there, looking back.

“I thought you were gone,” I croak.

“You are a sister of Oya, my love. You know our spirits never die.” She pulls me back and wipes my tears with her soft robes. “I have always been with you, always by your side.”

I clutch at her, as if at any moment her spirit might slip through my fingers. If I’d known she waited for me in death, I would have embraced it, run toward it. With her is everything I ever wanted, the peace she took with her when she died. With her, I’m finally safe.

After all this time, I’m home.

She runs her hands over my braids before kissing my forehead. “You will never know how proud we are of everything you’ve done.”

“We?”

She smiles. “Baba’s here now.”

“He’s okay?” I ask.

“Yes, my love. He’s at peace.”

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