Koffi heard another scream.
At the sound, Adiah swiveled, nostrils flaring. She raised her nose to the air to sniff, then let out a roar more terrifying than any Koffi had heard before. Their eyes met in the darkness for only a moment before a decision was made.
“Come on!” Koffi turned on her heels and pelted back into the temple. Adiah needed no further prompt as she stayed on Koffi’s heels, snarling and snapping. Koffi knew they were being reckless, knew that at any moment they could run into more of the temple’s workers or the Sons of the Six, but luck stayed with them. Somewhere far off she could hear the clink of glassware, laughter. Was there some sort of party going on? She didn’t have time to think about it.
Ekon. Her eyes shot down each hallway, confused. Where are you?
She didn’t know the layout of the temple outside of what Ekon had told her: The hallways and doors leading into darker passageways seemed endless. Adiah roared louder as another scream erupted from one of the hallways, this time closer still. Koffi followed the sound until she reached a door slightly ajar. She opened it more and saw a narrow set of steps leading up to what looked like a trapdoor above. White moonlight illuminated its outline. She charged up it, Adiah at her heels, and tried to push it open, but it held firm. She heard a low growl and barely had time to duck before Adiah’s claws tore through the wood in one vicious motion. Koffi covered her head and closed her eyes as bits of the destroyed door fell all around them. There was a roar, and she felt Adiah push past her, and when she opened her eyes again, the end of her bottlebrush tail was already disappearing up the square opening above. Koffi hoisted herself up it, then stopped.
She knew the garden before her must have been beautiful at one point; there were old, dead flowers blanketing every inch of it. In another time, another era perhaps, it had likely been a sort of paradise, a haven. But she didn’t care about the flowers; her eyes had fixed on the two people in the garden’s center. One was standing with his back turned to her, and the other was on the ground. She focused on the latter.
Ekon.
Something was terribly wrong—she knew it the moment she saw him. In the silvery moonlight, she couldn’t see any physical wounds on Ekon’s body, but he was shaking, trembling as she’d only seen one time before. Tears streaked his cheeks, and his eyes were blank, as though she weren’t there at all.
“Ekon!”
He winced at the sound of her voice, looking pained. Slowly, he blinked, and the gesture seemed to help him refocus his gaze. The muscles in his shoulder relaxed, and he looked up at her from the dirt. His eyes went wide when they found her.
“Koffi.” He said her name in a dry rasp, audibly pained. In that single word, she heard an emotion; it took her a moment to name it: fear. Ekon sounded afraid. He began shaking his head, screwing his eyes shut.
“No . . .” A moan escaped him as he pressed his palms against his head, trying to block out something she could not hear. “No, you can’t be here. You have to—”
“Ah, the darajas,” said a thin, unfamiliar voice. “Come at last, as I knew you would.”
Koffi started. She’d been watching Ekon so intently that she’d almost forgotten about the figure standing a few feet from him. It was unnerving; in the darkness, he was almost impossible to see, a silhouette she did not know. Behind her, Adiah snarled.
“Who are you?” Koffi’s words echoed against the stone walls of the garden as the figure stepped forward, face still obscured. She pointed to Ekon. “What have you done to him?”
“After all this time, we are reunited,” the voice said silkily. “It has been far too long.”
Koffi paused, confused. That wasn’t the answer to her question; those words didn’t even make sense. It wasn’t until another growl filled the air that she understood. The words didn’t make sense because they weren’t for her.
The figure took yet another step closer, finally illuminated in the moonlight. He was small and frail, with chestnut skin and wavy white hair. Wrinkles were etched deep into his features, and he looked old enough to be her great-grandfather. But something about him wasn’t right. Koffi stiffened as he extended a hand.
“I see you haven’t changed.” He wasn’t looking at her, but over her shoulder. “At least, not in any of the important ways. Tell me, Songbird . . . do you still sing?”
In answer, Adiah roared, but it wasn’t like before. There was another audible emotion beneath the bellow, a terrible anguish. Koffi could practically feel the crackling splendor in the air. She didn’t dare turn around to look at the other daraja; she wasn’t sure what she would see. The name the strange man had called her was unfamiliar.
Songbird?
“I am glad you have finally come to your senses,” he continued. “And that you have chosen a path of less resistance. You’ve even brought me something fresh, an assistant to aid in our efforts.”
To aid in our efforts.
It hit Koffi then. She understood. Ekon had gone looking for his mentor, an old man he’d believed had been harmed. He’d found someone else instead, someone who wasn’t his mentor at all.
“You’re Fedu,” she whispered.
“Clever girl.” The god turned his gaze upon her with a chilling smile. “I believe thanks are owed to you too. My understanding is that you helped Ekon procure my daraja. You brought her to me.”
“She’s not going anywhere with you!” Koffi gritted her teeth. Beside her, she felt a hum of power as Adiah crouched low, understanding. For his part, Fedu looked between them, amused.
“I do not relish spilling daraja blood.” There was laughter in his voice, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “But make no mistake, child, you are but an ant in my path. Should you attempt to stand in my way, I will deal with you as such.”
Koffi didn’t answer, didn’t wait. Her toes curled as she focused her mind and summoned the splendor, shuddering as it danced up her limbs and instantly warmed her. She heard a bellow and felt the ground beneath her shake as Adiah snarled.
Then they were moving in tandem, Koffi running to the left while Adiah moved right. She’d never done this before, never tried to use the splendor in a fight, but the power coursing through her seemed to understand what she wanted, as though it had a mind of its own fusing with hers. She spun on her heels and felt the thrum of more power enter through one hand, passing through her heart, then exiting through the other side. A golden ray of light escaped her like a ribbon, like a snake coiling in the air before it lashed across Fedu’s cheek. He hissed, turning to face her, but before he could react, Adiah charged him from behind, headbutting him so that he went flying back, though he landed on his feet with unnerving ease. He turned as Koffi came at him, raising one of his hands in a flick, and white-hot pain grazed Koffi’s cheek. She felt herself flying backward. She groaned as she landed in the dirt, the wind knocked from her body. A dull haze clouded her vision, but through it she could just make out Fedu and Adiah. They were circling each other.
“Come now, Adiah,” Fedu said softly. “You make this more difficult than it has to be.”
The daraja snapped her teeth. She lunged at him, a flurry of claws swiping at his face, but he dodged her with ease.
“Look at what you have become after all these years, Songbird.” He danced out of her reach easily as she swiped at him again, his lips splitting into a wicked smile. “Look at what holding in all of that splendor has done to you. You used to be the greatest daraja to walk the earth—intelligent, beautiful, and powerful. It seems you’re little more than a fumbling beast these days—stupid, ugly, and weak.”
He’s baiting her, Koffi realized. Adiah screamed; there was no other word for it. It was a sound of fury and violence, but also a sound of agony. She charged again, and Koffi understood a second too late what Fedu was going to do. Her lips tried to form the warning words, but not fast enough. There was a horrible crack as Fedu’s fist connected with her jaw, striking her with an inhuman strength. The force of the blow sent her back, landing inches from Koffi. She did not rise again.
Fedu brushed the dirt off his clothes, unfazed. “If you will not give me what I want,” he said testily, “then I will take it.” He started toward her, steps slow and deliberate.
Adiah. Koffi didn’t move—she didn’t want Fedu to know she was still conscious—but she tried to meet the other daraja’s eyes, to will them open. Adiah, please wake up.
Fedu was getting closer, only a few yards from them now. Koffi looked down at her own hand, inches from Adiah’s too-still paw. For some reason, the longer she stared at it, the more clearly she heard Adiah’s voice. She remembered the two of them standing in the Greater Jungle, the moment she’d looked into the eyes of a girl who was lost, tired, afraid.
I cannot endure this pain for another century, she’d said. I am not strong enough to fight Fedu if he captures me, do you understand?
Koffi had understood. They’d had a plan, and now it was gone. Fedu had won. He would take Adiah away, just as he’d always intended to, and use her for his own means. And Adiah would let him, not because she wanted to, but because she had nothing left, because she couldn’t keep running anymore.
Once upon a time, another lifetime ago, she’d been someone else, a girl with hopes and dreams and loves and wants. She’d been a girl caught between her heart and her mind. In the end she’d chosen both, a scarier thing, but the braver thing. Koffi reflected on that. Maybe there was something to be said for learning how to do that, how to make the braver choice. In the back of her mind, she remembered the offhand words of an old woman in a marketplace, a lesson: Anything can be bartered for, if you know its true value.
In that moment, she knew what to do.
Her fingers extended, the smallest of movements, until they brushed Adiah’s fur. They were barely touching, but that was all she needed. As soon as the splendor felt her touch, a new host, it came to her, tearing through as suddenly and powerfully as a storm surge. She watched in a haze as Adiah’s body began to change again, morphed and reshaped into something more human. In the distance, a voice cried out.
“What are you doing?”
She didn’t look at him, but Koffi could hear the bewilderment in the god’s voice, his confusion. She ignored him. The rush of the splendor drowned the rest of the words as it overtook her, overpowered her. In the same moment she felt it fill her body to the brim, she knew that it was too much—far too much—but she didn’t let go. This was her choice, her choosing, her barter.
She thought she heard the air shift when she finally let go of Adiah and sat up. The movement cost her something; her muscles ached, and her shoulders pounded. She felt . . . heavier.
“How are you doing that?”
She looked up and found that Fedu had stopped mere feet from her, his eyes genuinely wide with shock. “How is your body able to hold so much of the splendor? It shouldn’t be possible—”
“I want to make a barter.” Koffi could barely keep her eyes open. “Leave Adiah and Ekon alone and take me. I’ll go willingly.”
“Koffi, no!”
Something ripped inside her as she looked in Ekon’s direction and watched horror spread across his features. It was worse than she could ever have imagined. She made herself look at the god instead, waiting.
“Very well.” Fedu was still staring at her, face full of surprise, but he seemed to be coming around to the idea. He was nodding. “You’ll come with me, now.”
Koffi didn’t argue. It took every fiber of her will to lift herself from the ground, to walk toward the waiting god. The splendor reverberated through her with every step. Her mouth went dry as Fedu’s fingers fettered her wrists, no different from the ropes that had once bound her hands, but she resisted the urge to wince. She would not show fear, not here. She would not show anything. She glanced at Ekon a final time; he was the last thing she saw.
And then she was gone.