Healer/Cancer Term Analysis

Even from afar, I see the blackened corpses that lie in the streets. Corpses that lie there because of me.

I picture Inan and Mother among the dead.

I picture my best friend.

Strike, Amari.

Father’s voice fills my mind as the tears fill my eyes. Though I breathe, my chest stays tight. It feels like I’m being buried alive.

“Orïsha waits for no one,” I whisper the words. “Orïsha waits for no one.”

I will the words to be true as I ride through Ibadan’s gate.

I feel the most sacred gift of Oya beneath my hands, the holy magic of life and death. When the last body breathes again, I stare at the glowing tattoos on my hands.

No Reaper or Healer in history has ever been able to do that.

In our magic, I see the answer. What Oya wanted me to understand all along. If we use the moonstone to bind our lifeforces, we can save the maji from the monarchy’s grasp.