As soon as she had seen Máywá injured on the ground after the intruders had escaped, Bùnmi had run out of the temple, screaming at the top of her lungs, ‘Máywá!’ Her brown eyes had turned golden, her hands had shone the sun’s light, and she’d run towards the maiden who’d shot the arrow. The maiden had held her hands up – it was an accident, Máywá hadn’t been the intended target – but Bùnmi’s rage couldn’t be tempered. Milúà had watched as Bùnmi shot sparks of light that blasted on impact until the girl fell to her knees. The girl was only a white maiden, still in training, stilllearning. In the moments before she died, the girl begged her sister for mercy, begged to speak her à?írí. Bùnmi’s anger contorted her face into an ugly scowl. She inhaled a deep breath and screamed out a river of ash from her mouth into the girl’s face – choking her to death.
The sight of the girl’s dead body only seemed to agitate Bùnmi even more. She cried as she placed her hands on the lifeless body and burned it to ash, leaving charred bones where the girl once lay. No one had stopped Bùnmi as she raged on, screaming and throwing herself to the ground like an injured animal. Afterwards, Bùnmi had cried over Máywá as though she was his mother, but Milúà knew she wept not for him, but for the life that she could now never attain.
Milúà knew she’d have done the same to anyone who killed her Àlùfáà. But she wasn’t sure she’d have risked dying from the burn just for revenge as Bùnmi had now done. She’d grown up with her and knew the limits of her sister’s agbára. Creating all that ash from within her core was bound to ignite the burn within her; the disease that would blacken the girl’s insides until she was nothing but a charred corpse. Bùnmi simply wasn’t powerful enough for the kind of power she’d channelled tonight. Milúà cringed at the thought – nothing was worth risking that kind of death. Not even vengeance.
Milúà fell to her knees and bowed before the old man. ‘Forgive me, Àlùfáà-Àgbà, may the gods have mercy on me. May the sun burn away my sins. Give the word, and I’ll chase after the prince and bring him to you before the next stripping ceremony.’ There was nowhere in the kingdom Alawani could hide from her. Of this, she was certain.
Her words only seemed to enrage the old man. ‘You’ll do nothing until I tell you. Get out of my sight!’
Milúà gathered her skirt, hurried off the floor, and turnedto leave. ‘Stop,’ Àlùfáà-Àgbà said without looking back at her. ‘Get rid of that thing in the courtyard.’
Milúà spun on her heel. ‘Me? Àlùfáà-Àgbà, I’ve never seen such a thing in my life. How would I –’
‘Figure it out! You have only a few hours until the first light. It mustn’t remain when the sun rises. Let the eyes of our gods not look upon that abomination.’ The light from the flickering flames cast shadows that made his heavily bearded face more threatening. ‘It must be gone, or you will meet your gods today!’ Àlùfáà-Àgbà said as he stormed out of the room.
The maidens in the maze courtyard stood back from the abomination, keeping their distance lest they offend their gods. The gods of the sun and sands favoured light; this thing seeped out a strange mist as dark as night. None of them could believe that this atrocity came out of a person, but it had; they’d all witnessed it. Milúà tried to understand what exactly it was she was looking at.
It couldn’t have been formed with agbára oru because a dozen maidens had failed to destroy it when they shot at it with blasts of agbára. Nor could it have been formed with old magic because Àlùfáà-Àgbà couldn’t destroy it either. What was this thing? Fear gripped her every step, and a chill seeped into her bones the closer she got to it, cold rolling off the wall in waves. Her chest grew so tight it was hard for her to breathe. All eyes were on her, and even though she could not see him, she knew Àlùfáà-Àgbà watched too from behind the temple walls.
When she finally got close enough to touch it, she poked it as though it were a wild animal that could turn on her and chase her through the courtyard. The previously clear crystals had turned so black that parts of it had merged with the night, turning it nearly invisible. Milúà tuned out the whispersaround her and raised her hands, calling forth her agbára. Her palms got brighter and brighter, and when she thought it was just hot enough to melt even herself, she thrust them against its surface. The maidens gasped. At first, nothing happened, and then slowly, the ice beneath her palms turned to water dripping to her feet. Black and wet.
Emboldened, she let out a loud cry and pushed both palms deeper into the melting tower. A loud crack sliced through the air. Ice splinters rained down as the top half exploded in a loud bang. Her breath grew thin and ragged. Using all the agbára oru she could summon, her hands burned brighter than she’d ever seen before, her agbára now raging through the ice. Black liquid poured out, soaking the ground. By the time she was done, the liquid had drenched her clothes from head to toe.
Exhausted, Milúà turned back to the building behind her. She had no idea how she’d been able to do what her sisters and the other priests could not, but she didn’t care to know how, as long as Àlùfáà-Àgbà saw her succeed where he’d failed. Her eyes were full of pride and defiance even as her knees weakened and the agbára slowly faded from her hands, allowing the darkness of night to hide her. She fell to the ground, and the light faded from her eyes, and she was sure the gods had decided that her punishment for losing her Àlùfáà was death.
Milúà woke to find Àlùfáà-Àgbà at the foot of her bed. She fell to her knees and bowed to him. The silence in the room was masked only by the crackling of the flames in the torch lamps that surrounded them.
‘Do you know what this room is?’ Àlùfáà-Àgbà asked.
‘No, Àlùfáà,’ Milúà replied, looking around the room. It wasn’t too different from many other rooms in the temple. Ithad the same stone walls, designed with gold ornaments and curtains made of embroidered fabric.
‘You wouldn’t. This was where the Chosen of the Chosen were kept long before your time. This was where I received the gift of the gods to be the channel for agbára oru.’ He paused. ‘Tell me everything that happened yesterday from the moment you opened your eyes.’
Milúà lowered her gaze to the intricately designed marble floor and recalled everything she had done. The morning had been normal. Routine training of her maiden apprentice, Mojí, then temple duties in the prayer halls, and finally shadowing her Àlùfáà throughout the day as they learned their history and purpose. During the evening study for the Àlùfáà, she trained with her sisters on the grounds near the temple ruins as they often did. And by evening bell, she prayed with the entire Holy Order in the main temple halls, after which she did the rounds with Maiden Bùnmi to check that the chosen ones were where they were supposed to be and then she was off to bed.
She skipped the part about how she hadn’t checked on the chosen ones but instead had crept through the walls to the hidden and restricted library beneath the Àlùfáà towers. She’d deny it till her dying breath, but she knew this attack, this failure, was hers and hers alone. From Àlùfáà-Àgbà’s expression, Milúà could not tell if he believed her story or not.
‘What happened when you separated from Bùnmi?’ he asked, stepping closer to her. ‘What did you see in the corridor? Was anyone there?’
Milúà paused. It was a strange question, like he already knew the answer.
‘Àlùfáà, I saw nothing,’ Milúà said, honestly. ‘I swear on the agbára in my blood.’
‘Stand,’ Àlùfáà-Àgbà said, lifting his hand as though pulling her by strings. ‘Close your eyes.’
Milúà froze where she stood. A tight knot lodged in her throat. Masking fear was a speciality of hers. Distracting herself with thoughts she’d never be able to say out loud comforted her and kept signs of panic off her face. So, while Àlùfáà-Àgbà couldn’t see even a glimpse of her fear, her heart was ready to run out of her chest. It wasn’t the man himself that Milúà feared. It was the power he had over her and every other maiden in the temple and all the stories of how he extracted information in his interrogations.
Àlùfáà-Àgbà moved closer to Milúà. ‘Relax. This is the easy part.’
Milúà inhaled slowly, every part of her body tense as he moved closer. Then she exhaled, fortressing her mind, barricading the parts of herself that had to remain hers.
‘Open your hands,’ Àlùfáà-Àgbà said.
Milúà frowned. She peered at him. His dark skin creased with every word. His red eyes drilled holes into her.
Milúà did as he commanded.
‘Bring forth your agbára.’
