“But the abiku are bound by the Treaty,” I protested. “It was sealed by blood oath, which binds even demons. They can’t attack us anymore—that was the term of my sacrifice.”

“The abiku may not attack the Overworld themselves,” said The Lady, “But their undead puppets can. And for centuries, slowly amassing an army of non-abiku was their only hope of ruling the Overworld . . . until you offered yourself as a sacrifice.

“They were going to use you,” she murmured. “To kill you, steal your memories, and send your puppet body to rule Aritsar while they controlled you from the Underworld. As empress, you could revoke the old treaty, allowing abiku once more to roam the Earth. But to turn you into a puppet, they needed you to enter the Underworld alive. This pool is the only way to kill someone using the Warlord Fire’s special Death.”

Of course. The last year whipped before my eyes, every puzzle piece falling into place. Why the ojiji had protected me. Why they had guarded my reputation and won me the loyalty of the nobles. Why they had insisted I make a council of rulers—so I would have unchecked power when they stole my soul and unleashed me, their puppet monster, back into Aritsar.

I knew then the rest of Old Mongwe’s warning.

Don’t trust The Lady.

“You were going to let me die,” I whispered. “To let them trap my soul in my dead body forever.”

“Not forever,” The Lady protested. “They said they’d let you go eventually. When their work was done. And you wouldn’t have suffered—well, maybe when you first touched the stone.” She bit her lip. “But after that, you wouldn’t have felt anything. Wouldn’t even remember. And in exchange . . .” She stared out over dotted lines of Redemptors. “They promised to free all of these children. To let their souls travel to Core, instead of staying trapped in those corpses. Don’t you see, Made-of-Me? I finally had a chance to do something good. To make up for how I betrayed Woo In. To save thousands of Redemptors, instead of hurting people, like I did when I was alive. I . . . I thought then, when I went back to Egungun’s Parade . . .”

“It would hurt less,” I finished, feeling my blood begin to boil. “You were going to lessen your own pain by killing me. By making me betray all my friends—again!”

“Just for a little while,” The Lady insisted, features wild with desperation. “For a greater cause.”

“I forgave you.” Hot tears coursed down my cheeks. “I trusted you, and you tricked me. You didn’t even give me a choice!”

“But I did, in the end!” The Lady clenched her small fists. “I stopped you from touching it, didn’t I? I knew it was wrong. But I’m still learning, Made-of-Me. I’m trying to be a good person.”

“My name,” I reminded her, “is Tarisai. And I never want to see you again.”