Page 62 of Children of Anguish and Anarchy

In the hall, another Skull removes his axe. The runes along its hilt turn red as it feeds on his blood. The hallway shrinks in the Skull’s bulging presence. Tremors pass through the wood planks as he walks.

He raises his glowing axe in front of my cell, a warning of what will come. Its heat burns my face as I shake in the Skull’s arms.…

When Mother pulls away, the sensation is so strong she falls to her knees. She presses a hand to her chest. From the way her nose wrinkles, I can tell she still smells the stench of the dead.

“That is where you’ve been this whole time?” she asks, and I nod.

“They’ve spent moons mounting raids and attacks. They’ve taken Amari, too.”

At Amari’s name, Mother’s lips tighten. Her hands travel to the bandages around her abdomen.

“How did you escape?” Mother asks.

“With the maji. I couldn’t have gotten back to Orïsha without them.”

Mother finally takes my hand as I join her on the cot. Her fury still radiates off her like heat. But with the knowledge of the Skulls, a new enemy has entered her battlefield.

One she might hate more than me.

“Invaders.” She shakes her head. “I never thought I’d see the day. If your father were here…” Mother shuts her eyes. I don’t know if it’s out of missing him or out of fear.

“If you’re fighting for the Orïsha he reigned over, your efforts are in vain,” I declare. “That kingdom is gone forever. But the chance for a better Orïsha is still here. We need the maji, Mother.” I kneel by her side. “Whatever remains of the soldiers, too. Our only chance at stopping the Skulls is to oppose their attack together, united as one.”

“It will never work,” Mother says. “The fighting will never stop.”

“Can you call an armistice?” I ask. “Can we put the battle to rest, just for one night?”

Mother stares at her tîtán armor for a long moment before turning to me.

“Give me a few days,” she reluctantly agrees. “I will see what I can do.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

ZÉLIE

AFTER SEPARATING FROM THEothers, we ride through the canals underneath the town circle. Amari and I hold each other as we sail the glowing waters. We follow behind Mae’e, seated on a giant lily pad.

Paintings of their goddess cover the walls and the arches overhead, the bright pigments weathered with time. Some depict the goddess being born of fire on the mountaintop. Others depict her entire body spreading into tangles of vines.

When we leave the central network and exit the city center, the collection of lanterns behind us blurs. Vineweavers patrol the canals, keeping them clear for our approach.

We flow through vast stretches of water, moving past the floating temples and open marketplace surrounding the imperial palace. As we head for the ring of mountains on the outskirts of the city, I’m mesmerized by the faces carved into the black stone. Instead of a rocky terrain, the faces of sleeping women reach up into the sky. Their intertwined bodies surround the floating village like giants.

The carving of their goddess looms above them all, her curved figure watching over the city of vines with vibrant jewels in the place of her eyes. Amari stares up with me as the goddess passes overhead. Mae’e bows her chin in prayer.

When our lily pads dock at the base of the mountains, the weight of the air shifts. Something buzzes in my skin. The winds blow with whispers of the past. It’s as if the entire mountain range lives.

A collection of temples sits above us, their gilded rooms jutting out of the mountain rock. A boulder rolls away, and the girls in matching silk kaftans return, each with a glowing lantern in hand. When Mae’e gives a nod, the girls descend as one.

Though Amari and I try to stay together, the girls pull us apart. Amari calls out to me as they lead her through an entrance in the mountain’s side. Her voice disappears behind the black stone.

Before I can ask where she’s going, a drink like honey is poured down my throat. Within moments, the world blurs. My limbs become weights I can’t lift. I find myself carried into the base of the mountain.

What is this?

More candles than I’ve ever seen flicker against the pale green walls. Their light dances through intricately carved columns and mosaic-covered arches. Vines cover every inch of the temple like spiderwebs. They knit themselves down the long halls, disappearing behind emerald fountains and statues of the goddess carved from obsidian glass.

“Just breathe,” one of the girls coos. She presses her hibiscus-scented palms to my temple, attempting to dislodge the majacite crown. The poisonous metal stings at her touch. She draws back her hands with a gasp as tendrils of smoke twist into the air. Though she calls to the others for help, it doesn’t matter what they try, the metal won’t budge. When I cry out in pain, they all give up.

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