Chapter Thirty-One Emma Baldwin #2
The chains holding our loved ones loosen and fall to the ground.
Tears of joy stream down their faces as they embrace each other.
Pop-Pop rushes to Big-Mama’s side while Malcolm’s mom holds Jayla in her arms. Charles and Imani cling to their mother, seeking comfort and safety in her embrace.
Demetri and Papa support my mom, who is overcome with emotion.
“Look!” Malcolm says, rising to his feet and pointing. His smiling face is wet with tears.
With an explosive pop, the chains holding the statues of the slaves in the audience become shimmers of dust. And the stone covering the statues begins to crack and fall away, revealing real people with faces in beautiful shades of brown.
Mothers rush to daughters, fathers hold their sons, husbands cling to wives.
Families torn apart by slavery and magic are now whole again.
Their stolen dignity is restored. It fills my heart with hope for a better future for my people.
“Impossible!” Sabine screeches, her wrinkled hunchbacked body twisting to look at all her prisoners walking freely. Walking toward her.
Her power unravels around us as she screams. “Get back in those chairs this instant or I’ll, I’ll—” Her threats are empty, but her screams are loud. The formerly enslaved people rise to join Big-Mama and Grandmère. United, they surround the witch.
Someone pushes Sabine, and she stumbles, trembling, to the ground. “Stop!” Sabine demands. “You listen to me! I own you!” Her frail form quakes with fear as they attack.
Slaps, punches, and kicks make Sabine’s body buckle under the weight of the blows.
She gasps for breath, and her once-icy blue eyes widen with terror.
Refusing to hold back, they deliver blow after blow to the evil witch.
Sabine’s shrill screams merge with the sickening thud of fists connecting with her fragile form.
They kill her like she wanted us to kill each other.
Sabine’s reign ends with the unity and vengeance of those she oppressed.
A frigid wind blows, and the stadium stutters and shifts. A ripple of silver haze passes over the air across from me. Everything fuzzes before the world blurs into focus.
Venus steps out of the haze. The crown of snakes on her head vanishes, and her dark curls cascade down proud light brown shoulders.
Her slave rags shift into a dazzling white dress with a heart-shaped bodice that glitters with crystals and diamonds.
Titus’s ghost also appears—his dark skin glowing in a white linen suit that shines like stars.
As they run toward each other, the wind picks up and the constellations in the sky vibrate above them.
Venus pulls to a stop, pausing, before finally, they tearfully embrace.
“I’m sorry,” he says, tears flowing. “I was young and stupid. I’m so sorry.”
“You loved your sisters,” she says. “Little Liza was in danger. People do crazy things to protect what they love.”
My heart hurts when I hear them mention Liza’s name.
Knowing her connection to them makes her death that much sadder.
Sabine’s corpse oozes red in the dirt across from me, surrounded by a celebration.
Our families weep and hug each other, while formerly enslaved people rejoice in the arena.
But my eyes are glued to Venus and Titus, their love now alive and free as it should have always been.
Seeing those around us embrace each other and their newfound freedom swells me with pride.
“Emma,” Malcolm says, his voice choked with emotion. “We did it.”
I rest my head on his shoulder as we stare at Venus and Titus. “We did it together,” I reply.
Venus and Titus kiss, and a mushroom cloud of blue power explodes above them to crack the arena’s constellation sky.
Clouds become a ring of flickering white fire chewing at the air.
It’s as if their love broke the universe wide open.
Their emotions, so pained and powerful that even the dark magic of a dead witch can’t contain it.
Chunks break free, falling from the stone arena walls.
A couple and their child duck, screeching.
We cover our heads as the constellation sky shatters and falls like crystal shards.
The world quakes. Fractures splinter across the ground, racing up the walls and splitting everything in their paths.
The arena, the monument to oppression and evil, crumbles, and the rocks fall, burying Sabine’s body beneath them.
I look up and scream as a massive boulder of concrete barrels toward us. Malcolm pushes me down, covering me with his body. Our family members and the former slaves rush around us, reaching over our heads and extending their hands toward the sky like they are trying to shield us from the blow.
Nuclear shouts of the crowd explode in my ears.
There’s chaos, people running. My belly drops.
My head swims. I close my eyes and prepare for the worst. When I part my lashes the world swirls into a black-and-white blur.
We’re ripped from the arena and find ourselves back in the punishment room.
My whole family, Malcolm’s family, and everyone from the arena is there.
We are safe and sound. The formerly enslaved people celebrate, ready to plan for a future where they get to be their own masters, and using our families’ combined magic, we prepare to go home.