A sun for the morning, a sun for the evening.
And moons for years to come.

Another arrow struck the shield, nearly knocking it from my hand. Faintly, I could see the silhouette of a burly figure atop the roof, pausing to replenish its quiver.

And then the children came.

I thought they were animals at first. Small, dirt-covered bodies rose from the ground, scaling the walls of the high-rise like beetles. First there were two, then four, then seven human creatures, limbs blurring as they clambered up the walls with chilling precision. Beneath the building, Imperial Guard warriors froze in terror, making the sign of the Pelican to ward off evil.

By the time the assassin noticed, it was too late. A scream pierced the air as the shadow children set upon the figure, clawing, biting, tearing at the assassin’s limbs like jackals. Barely visible beneath the swarm of small bodies, the figure staggered, teetered . . . then pitched, children and all, over the edge of the eight-story high-rise.

They landed with a sickening crack. Dayo and I clung to each other, watching the mound of bodies in the pale-lit square. The children were still at first, covering the assassin’s corpse. Then, in slow, disjointed movements, they rose from the ground.

“Can you see them?” I whispered to Dayo, and he nodded slowly, heart thudding against mine.

Layers of earth and grime muddled their faces, but closer up, their features varied greatly. Some dark with coiled locs, some pale with matted tresses, others tan and golden. Children from different ends of the continent, and all of them covered in purple Redemptor birthmarks.

“How?” I croaked. It didn’t make sense. After the reign of Enoba, every Redemptor had been born in Songland, but these children came from all over the empire. If they were truly Redemptors, they must have been born in the original wave, which made each child five hundred years old.

Then I remembered Emeronya’s warning: They can appear as both spirit and flesh.

These too were ojiji. My stomach twisted with both horror and pity. These children had once been alive. I had assumed that when Redemptors failed to return from the Underworld, they simply died and passed on to Core. These children had not been so lucky. The abiku had enslaved their souls—perhaps forever. Exactly how many Redemptors had been turned to ojiji?

“Why are you protecting me?” I asked softly. “What do you want?”

As one, the pack of children turned their dull, translucent eyes on me—just like the boy who had killed Thaddace. Their voices, a quiet hiss that raised every hair on my neck, echoed across the square.

“Justice,” they said, and crumbled into dust.

When Dayo and I returned to the palace, the Guard warriors sequestered us in the Imperial Suite, where Ai Ling and Sanjeet—along with an army of healers, attendants, and courtiers—flocked to greet us in the anteroom. I had barely crossed the threshold before a muscular pair of arms enveloped me, burying my face in a broad, solid chest.