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“T HERE IT IS.”

Amari rises from Mae’e’s arms to join me at the front of the videira. Fresh tears streak her face. They fall in an endless stream since Inan’s sacrifice.

She joins me at the front of the woven vessel as we take in the shorelines of our homeland. The sight makes my throat tight. I can’t believe it.

After everything, I’ve finally returned.

The wreckage of the Skulls’ attack lies in the port, remaining carriers half-submerged in the bay. Plumes of smoke rise all over the barren city. The buildings have been blown away.

One figure waits at the edge of the battered port. In an instant, I recognize his powerful build. The axe tattooed across his abdomen shines bright under the sun. The love woven through his rigid stance burns from afar.

“Over there!” I motion to the vineweavers steering our craft. The vessel can’t carry me fast enough. We sail through the debris and bodies floating in the murky waters. Countless skull masks stare up at us as we pass.

When I make it to land, I bound from the videira, leaping into my brother’s arms. Tzain holds me so tight my body aches, but I don’t fight his embrace.

The weight of the ritual hangs between us. The touch I thought I’d never feel again. I hang on to my brother as he sets me down. The magic of my land hums through my skin.

Behind us, a group of maji gathers. My heart swells at the remaining elders and members of the ten clans. Nao beams at me from the front. Kenyon and Na’imah wait, hand in hand.

“ Jagunjagun! ” Mári bounds forward. My little Reaper runs into my arms. As I dig my head into her curls, I can’t stop the tears that spill free. The members of my clan surround me, welcoming me back home.

But the maji aren’t the only ones to fill the ruins of Lagos. The surviving soldiers and t?táns mill through the empty streets. Everyone works together, their union emboldened by the attack.

Nehanda and the Grounders clear the rubble. Burners cremate the remaining Skulls. Khani and the Healers tend to the injured. Maji, t?tán, or soldier—no one gets turned away.

At our arrival, the circle around us builds. The people come together, waiting to hear of the war. The divides between us seem to evaporate. Even Nehanda takes Amari by the hand.

In the building crowd, I see them—the seeds of the dreams I once shared with the little prince. An Or?sha where the maji are safe. A land where we don’t have to be afraid. We can rebuild all that we’ve lost, creating a true nation beyond our brutal wars and raids.

“Is it over?” Mári asks.

I remove King Baldyr’s mask from my pack, and lift the golden skull into the air.

A flare of hope runs through me as all of Or?sha cheers.