HURRY, HELP ME TAKE her body somewhere safe!” I tug on Julius’s arm, and he and Rojala help me. I rush back down the winding hall and into one of the side rooms, where we tuck Zora away. Her limp arms, the way she pulled on her gloves. How many times did she try to keep emotionally distant in order to spy on me, but just couldn’t? She is gone. My sister who showed me how to fight, who gave me the bell I wear in my hair, who taught me the Ancestors’ prayer. The weight of it makes me sturdy myself on the wall. Rojala’s face materializes in front of me.

“Jelani? What do we do?” Rojala holds Zora’s hand.

“Uh…” Why is the world this way? I hate it here. I blow out a breath, latching on to the urgency at hand. I blink, trying to wish away the grief, bury it, but there’s so much that’s built; it’s like a gray cloud promising a hard rain.

“Y-you stay in here.” I swallow, getting my bearings. “And stand guard over her.” I can see the “but” in her eyes. But she nods, and Julius and I shut them inside. The world rumbles, shouting rings through the air.

Zora… I say her name, carrying her with me in every step.

I pull Julius to me. “Find Bri. Collect onyx.” He’s off, and I shove my way through bodies to get a glimpse of the situation. Patrolmen pour through the hole in the ceiling. Some in plain clothes, Loyalists, and others in slick uniforms with the Ghizoni emblem on their chest. No sign of the Chancellor. Yet.

One leaps from the last rung of the ladder, aiming his hands to fire magic at Joshi. He thrusts, but nothing happens. Joshi’s ready. The Loyalist glares at his own wrist, thrusting his hands again in utter confusion. Joshi swings a chunk of metal and it slaps his head with a smack.

“Their wrists!” I shout at Joshi as bodies jostle me around. “The onyx on their…”

But Joshi’s moved on, fighting off two Patrol who caught him off guard. I dash over, grabbing the Loyalist’s limp legs. I drag him, searching for a spot to pull him aside when something slams into my back.

It’s a tall fighter with a knot on her head, her right shoulder bared. Yakanna. I see Zora’s face in my mind. And Doile’s. My insides pang. She swipes at the men funneling through the tunnel, each dropping like flies. She swings, pivots, then jabs. And where there was one Patrol on the ground, lie three.

“Y-you came?” I say.