“KHANI!”
My voice is little more than a shriek as Kâmarū carries us into the infirmary. The Healers clear the area at once, making space to set our bodies down on the netted hammocks. Though I can barely lift my arms, I squeeze Mâzeli’s hand with the strength I have.
The golden light of my tattoos flickers as his heartbeat slows, and my own slows with it. The moonstone still connects our spirits. Without a blood sacrifice, we can’t sustain the connection.
“Oh my gods…” Khani’s face falls when she runs over to us. Bloodstains coat her tangerine robes and white braids. She adjusts her spectacles before taking charge of the room. “Yameenah, water. Chibudo, fresh wraps. Obu, quick—I need all free hands!”
“Idán ti ẹjẹ, jí láti wo ọna rẹ láradá—”
“Ogbé inú, dáhùn ìpè wa—”
The swarm of Healers descends, their rhythmic chants bouncing against the ivy-covered columns. Khani and her Healers channel their ashê into us, placing their hands over our heads, our hearts, our stomachs.
But despite how hard they chant, our skin chills with every passing second. Our breaths turn slow.
“The connection,” Mâzeli croaks. “You have to break it.”
His waning lifeforce pulls on my own, an anchor dragging me under the surface. But despite the growing pressure in my chest, I won’t give in. I don’t care about the blood I cough up. I don’t care how much it hurts.
The connection that’s killing me is the only thing keeping him alive.
“We’ll be okay!” I fight to speak. “Just hold o—”
Mâzeli starts to seize, making my own body spasm. The Healers struggle to hold me down as I thrash in the hammock. Despite how hard I pull, I can’t draw breath.
“Mama Agba, I need you!” Khani shouts. The Seer’s silver-clad body runs into the infirmary as my vision blurs in and out. Her wrinkled hands press against my chest. An ancient command only she can summon rings out.
“E túu síl1!”
It’s like the same bolt of lightning that connected Mâzeli and me strikes my heart. My back arches as my tattoos shine bright. Then the light disappears for good.
My ears ring from the jolt. My stomach burns. But when I inhale again, my blood runs cold.
I can breathe, but I don’t feel him.
“Mâzeli!” I grip my heart, falling to the floor as I tumble out of the hammock. His body still spasms beyond his control. His skin feels so cold.
“Ẹ tọnná agbára yin!” I grab his hand. “Ignite! Connect!” But despite how hard I try to bind our lifeforces, my marks only flicker. My magic stays dead.
“You’re too weak!” Mama Agba grabs my shoulder, but I push her away. My vision goes black with rage. It’s so strong, I can’t see straight.
“What have you done?” My voice echoes through the infirmary. But then Mâzeli’s seizing stops. My heart falls as he moans.
“Jagunjagun…”
His voice is so weak. A scratch of his usual shout. I have to clasp a shaking hand to my mouth to hold back the sobs.
“I’m here.” I take his hands, kissing his cold fingertips. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
As the moonstone’s marks flicker against my skin, I see the violet lifeforce around his limp body. Before it shone so brightly. Now it fades before my eyes. A star that can no longer burn.
Behind him, Khani lifts her hands and her face says it all. There’s no saving him.
The damage is already done.
“The others.” Mâzeli’s lids flutter. “Did I … are they…”
“They’re safe.” I fight the knife in my throat. “Because of you, everyone is.”
Shimmering tears pool in Mâzeli’s brown eyes. I can’t hold back my sob as he tries not to cry.
“I don’t … I don’t want…”
He starts to tremble and I can almost see the terror flooding in. I paw away my tears and force iron around my heart. I can’t cry when he needs me the most.
“This is just the beginning.” I stroke his head the way Mama used to when I was young. “You’ll see your mother on the other side. You and Arunima will laugh again.”
“Oya, too?” He squeezes my arm as tears spill onto his cheeks. I take his face into my hands and give him my brightest smile.
“She’ll welcome her bravest soldier home with open arms.”
He tries to nod, but his face twists with pain. He coughs up blood again.
“I’m not afraid.”
“Good.” I rest my forehead against his. “You’re a soldier of death. You have nothing to fear.”
Every word I speak is like a blade cutting me from within. It’s the arrow they shot into Baba’s chest. It’s being forced to rip out my heart and bury it all over again.
“The Reapers…” he speaks through his labored breath. “Don’t let them be sad.”
His round eyes start to lose focus despite how hard he fights to keep them open.
“Mâzeli!” I squeeze his hands tighter as his grip fades away.
“Don’t…” His eyes fall closed. “Be sad.”