The Chosen Chapter Forty-One The Wedding

“Paimon.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I want you to call the council.”

“The entire council, my Lord?”

“Including the ladies. Hekate, Lilith, all six. Empusa must be present as well.”

“Empusa, my Lord?”

“Yes. She was the one who brought me the prophecy three hundred years ago. I want her to hear what I have to say.”

Paimon bowed. “As you wish, Master.”

“One more thing. Invite the messenger.”

Paimon raised his head. “The messenger?”

“The one who walks between the powers.”

For the first time, Paimon hesitated. “Exu?”

“The very same. Make sure he receives my invitation.”

“Zita, I want to go back to the Sacred Grounds.”

“That is exactly where you should be, Maria. I’ll prepare everything.”

Satea appeared at the door. “My Lady, are you and the little flame leaving?”

“Yes, Satea. We are going to the Sacred Grounds. You will remain here and take care of the house. You know what needs to be done.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Maria packed a few belongings and took the birthday present the Master had given her months earlier. A car was arranged to take her to the Sacred Grounds, with Zita beside her, invisible to the driver.

When they arrived at the sea, Maria removed her shoes and stood looking at the water. She had been away for so many months that even the smell of the salt made her want to cry.

“Zita, I need Yemanjá’s blessing before I enter. Will you come with me, or would you rather wait here?”

“I’ll wait for you, my child.”

Maria walked into the sea until the water reached her waist. Then she dived beneath the surface, disappearing into the arms of Yemanjá.

Exu appeared beside Zita.

“I received the invitation,” he said. “They are calling the council.”

“Yes. You must go.”

“I’ll speak with the Orixás first. What do you want me to tell them?”

“That they must do what is right.”

“They will have questions.”

“Answer them.”

“And at the council?”

Zita turned towards him. “You know what must be done, Exu.”

For a moment neither spoke. There was no need. They had spoken of this long before Maria had been born, and the centuries had not changed what was necessary.

“I’ll be waiting when you return,” Zita said. “Maria will want to see you. For the humans, these months have been an eternity. For us, they are hardly anything.”

She looked out to sea. “She’s coming back. Go.”

Exu disappeared.

Maria emerged carrying fish that Yemanjá had given her. She was smiling, her white hair wet against her shoulders.

“How was your visit?” Zita asked.

“Wonderful. Yemanjá was happy to see me, and she sent us home with dinner.” Maria held up the fish. “Can we go? I want to see Exu.”

Their first stop was his house, at the entrance to the Sacred Grounds. Maria hurried inside, embraced him and kissed his face.

“Exu, I did something you may not agree with. I asked the Master for something very difficult, and by the time I realised what I was saying, the words were already out. I did what I felt was right. Will you help me?”

The flames rose high in his hearth.

Maria looked at Zita. “That means yes, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly looks that way. Come, my child. We must collect the gift Exu gave you on your last birthday. Your father already knows you’re here, and he’s been waiting for you.”

At the entrance to the temple grounds, Amada saw Maria first. She broke into a run and threw her arms around her friend.

“Maria! I’ve missed you so much. Are you really well?”

“I’m well, Amada. I promise.”

Amada hugged her again, unwilling to let go.

“Come on,” she said. “Your father’s here.”

“I’m here, my daughter.”

“Father!”

Baba Carlos held Maria against his chest and kissed her forehead. He had spent six months imagining all the things that might have happened to her, and now that she was standing before him, he could scarcely loosen his arms.

“My child. I was so worried.”

“I’m sorry, Father. Zita was taking care of me. She would never let anything happen to me.”

“I know, minha filha.” He kissed her forehead again. “Come. Everyone is waiting. The Orixás know you’ve come home.”

Maria and Amada walked ahead, talking so quickly that neither finished a sentence. Baba Carlos stayed behind with Zita.

“She looks well,” he said.

“She is well.”

“Then tell me why this happened. Why did she have to sleep for six moons? Six months, Zita. How is that protection?”

“Baba Carlos, Maria is here. Enjoy the fact that your daughter is home.”

“You cannot refuse to explain something like this to me. I am her father.”

“And you are questioning my decisions.”

“I have every right to question them. I can deny you entrance to these grounds.”

Zita stopped walking.

“The time when I allowed you to believe you could deny me entrance anywhere is over, Baba Carlos.”

He looked at her. She wore the same black dress and spoke with the same calm voice he had known for years. Yet something about her answer made him unable to continue the argument.

Zita resumed walking. He followed in silence.

Inside the Sacred Grounds, Alma and the ialorixás were waiting, along with Maria’s brothers and their children. The welcome lasted so long that Maria could hardly move from one embrace to another.

“I’ll cook the fish the way you like it,” Alma told her. “And everything else you missed while you were away.”

“Thank you, Alma. I’m starving.”

“Then go and receive your axé from the Orixás. Your food will be ready when you come back.”

Maria took Amada’s hand, and they ran towards Oxum’s waters. Zita followed at a distance.

The council had assembled by the time the Master entered the largest chamber of his palace. The six who had sat upon the thrones during Maria’s first visit were there: Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Leviathan, Mammon, Belial and Belphegor. Paimon stood beside the Master’s throne. Hekate and Lilith had come, and Empusa waited near them.

Asmodeus spoke first. “Master, why have you summoned all of us? Even the ladies?”

“I have an announcement.”

“It had better be important,” Lilith said. “You know I dislike leaving my desert.”

“It concerns the prophecy Empusa brought to me three hundred years ago.”

Empusa lifted her head. “The Chosen?”

“Yes. But before I begin, we are waiting for one more guest.”

“Who could be missing?” Leviathan asked.

Paimon approached the Master. “He has arrived, my Lord.”

“Let him enter.”

When Exu crossed the threshold, the conversation stopped. The demons looked first at him, then at their Master.

“Mammon,” the Master said before he could object, “there will be no conflict between powers today. Exu is here at my invitation.”

Exu took his place among them. “I walk between worlds. I was invited, and I chose to come. My presence changes nothing about the laws between our powers.”

The Master thanked his guests and began.

“Three hundred years ago, Empusa saw the birth of a woman carrying an ancient power. Paimon confirmed her prophecy. She would be able to walk between powers, welcomed by all and belonging to none. The Chosen has been born. She is now a young woman living on Earth.”

A murmur moved around the chamber.

“And where is this woman?” Belial asked.

“In the one place I cannot enter.”

Lilith looked at Exu. “The Sacred Grounds.”

“Yes. She was born there, and the Orixás protect her.”

“She is protected while she chooses to remain with us,” Exu said. “That is her right.”

Mammon turned towards Paimon. “What did the prophecy say about her power?”

“The Master must win her love and marry her,” Paimon answered. “The marriage will grant him access to the ancient power she carries.”

Beelzebub gave a dismissive laugh. “Then why have we all been summoned? She is human. What woman would refuse the Master?”

“She has already made demands,” the Master replied. “She learned that I had concubines and refused to share me with anyone. I have agreed to give them up. Now she requires something else.”

“What?” Hekate asked.

“She wants me to go to the Sacred Grounds and ask her father for her hand in marriage.”

Lilith studied him. “You intend to obey her?”

“I intend to marry her.”

“But does she know you cannot lie?” Asmodeus asked.

“She does not yet understand our ways. She is still human.”

Hekate said nothing, though her attention remained on the Master.

“Exu,” the Master continued, “I have invited you because you can speak with the Orixás. Name your price for securing my entrance.”

“I want free passage through every court represented here. I will enter without escort, without announcement, and without being followed. That includes the courts of Hekate and Lilith.”

The Master looked around the council. One by one, the powers agreed. Lilith was the last to give her consent.

“You have your passage,” the Master said. “Now obtain mine.”

“I will ask,” Exu replied. “If permission is granted, your time will be limited. While you are there, you will possess none of your powers.”

“I accept.”

“And after the wedding?” Mammon asked. “What will become of the power you acquire?”

“The Master will hold the power of this world alone,” Paimon said. “The rest of us will be free of the old arrangement.”

The council received this with satisfaction. Exu took his leave.

At the Sacred Grounds, the Orixás awaited him. Their presence moved through the forest and the waters, communicating in vibrations that needed no human words.

Exu stood before them.

“I ask you to trust me. I cannot explain every reason for what must happen, but you know I have guarded these people since the beginning. The Master seeks permission to enter as a human, without power, and to ask Baba Carlos for Maria’s hand. I will accompany him. All of you will be present. The people under our protection will come to no harm.”

The answer passed through the grounds, from the trees to the sea, before the Orixás withdrew.

Exu remained where he was until the last vibration faded.

The months passed. Maria and Amada returned to the school, teaching the children, helping Alma in the kitchen and attending to their duties within the Sacred Grounds. Maria began to laugh again. Her strength returned, and the long sleep became something she spoke of less often.

Deep in the forest, Zita made a house for herself. No one came upon it by accident. She had placed it beyond the reach of the powers that governed the Sacred Grounds, and when she chose to remain unseen, even the Orixás could not find her there.

One evening, Exu visited her.

“Tomorrow,” he said.

“Very good. Maria’s birthday is only a few days away.”

“Permission has been granted.”

“Then I will speak with Baba Carlos.”

She found him in his room.

“Baba Carlos.”

“Come in, Zita. Has something happened?”

“The time has come.”

He put down what he was holding. “Maria will be eighteen in a few days. Is that when she must choose which power she belongs to?”

“Before that, you will receive a visitor.”

“Who?”

“The Master.”

“That is impossible.”

“His entrance has been granted. He will come without his powers. You may feel the darkness in him, but he will have no command over it while he is here.”

“What does he want?”

“To ask for Maria’s hand in marriage.”

“I will not give my daughter to the darkness.”

“You will say yes, Baba Carlos.”

“No.”

“Then think carefully about what you are refusing. Think of your filhos de santo, the children who sleep here, the people you have sworn to protect. You know how much depends upon what happens next.”

“There must be another way. She’s my daughter.”

“She has your blood. I have never denied that. But I told you long ago that Maria belongs to me.”

Baba Carlos stood. “She is not something you can give away.”

“Then do not give her away. Listen to what she wants. If she says yes, you will grant your blessing.”

He looked at her for a long time. “Only if Maria truly wants to marry him.”

“I agree.”

“Does she know who he is?”

“She knows him as Ben.”

“She should know everything.”

“Her feelings will not change.”

After Zita left, Baba Carlos tried to go to his daughter’s room. He wanted to warn her, to tell her what he knew and all the things he feared. Yet he remained at his door, unable to take the next step. He had felt the will of the Orixás many times in his life. This time their silence weighed more heavily upon him than any command.

The next day began like any other. Children made their way to their lessons, food was prepared, and the air carried the sounds of work and conversation. Only Baba Carlos knew a stranger was coming.

At the appointed hour, the Master appeared inside Exu’s house.

“Welcome, Master.”

“Thank you for speaking with the Orixás on my behalf.”

“You must understand the conditions before we leave. Through the front door of my house, you may go into the world as you please. Through the back door, you enter the Sacred Grounds. From the moment your foot touches the earth outside, you will have the powers of an ordinary human.”

The Master glanced towards the doors. “I have always admired your ability to walk between worlds.”

“It is a privilege, Master, and one I take seriously. The path to the temple is steep. You must walk both ways, speak with Baba Carlos, and return here within sixty-six minutes and six seconds. I will accompany you. At the last second, you must be back inside this house.”

The Master nodded. “Does Maria know I am coming?”

“No. Only Baba Carlos.”

“Then let us go.”

The first few steps surprised him. He felt the weight of his own body and the effort of walking uphill. The earth beneath his shoes seemed extraordinarily solid. Somewhere in the forest, a bird was calling; he could hear it, but he could not separate its voice from all the other sounds at will.

He could not see Oxóssi walking ahead of them, though he felt a presence moving through the trees. For the first time, he understood the beauty of a place without possessing the power to command any part of it.

The temple grounds came into view. Men and women were working together, some singing, others tending the gardens. Children ran across a clearing, laughing. No one looked at the Master.

“Can they not see me?” he asked.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I have chosen that they should not,” Exu said. “Your appearance would attract attention. Baba Carlos does not need questions he cannot answer.”

The Master watched the children playing. “I understand why Maria loves this place.”

“You are feeling its axé. Here you can experience something you have spent a very long time observing from a distance.”

Baba Carlos waited at the temple entrance.

“Welcome, Exu. You may enter with your guest.” He faced the Master. “What should I call you?”

“Ben.”

“Then welcome, Ben. Your time here is limited. Come inside.”

“Thank you, Baba Carlos. May I see Maria?”

“She is on her way. Sit with us. You may eat and drink while you wait.”

The Master followed him into the temple. Baba Carlos closed the doors behind them, something he had not done in years.

Maria entered a few minutes later, with Zita beside her. When she saw the Master seated at the low table, she smiled and sat opposite him. She held Zita’s hand beneath the table and waited for him to speak.

“Maria, I came as you asked.”

“I can see that, Ben.”

The Master turned towards Baba Carlos. “Thank you for receiving me. I love your daughter, and I have come to ask for her hand in marriage.”

Baba Carlos looked at Maria. He wanted her to laugh at the absurdity of it, to take his hand and say that she had changed her mind.

“Maria, minha filha, do you want to marry Ben?”

She looked first at the Master, then at her father.

“Yes, Father. I do.”

Baba Carlos closed his eyes. When he opened them, he looked towards Zita and then Exu. Exu gave him a small nod.

“Ben,” Baba Carlos began, his voice unsteady, “you have my blessing to marry my daughter.”

The Master reached for Maria’s hand.

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes. But I want your word that I will be your only woman. I belong to you, and you belong to me. I do not share.”

“You shall have everything you wish.”

“Then we will marry on my birthday.”

Baba Carlos looked up. “That is in three days, Maria.”

“I know. I want the wedding at the cemetery grounds. And I want you there, Father.”

“I will be there, minha filha.”

The Master kissed her hand before leaving with Exu. The steep walk back was harder than he expected, but he returned through the door of Exu’s house before his time expired.

“We must return to the cemetery grounds,” Zita told Maria. “There is a great deal to prepare.”

“Then we should leave today.”

“And remember your birthday presents. Take all the boxes.”

Maria, Amada and Zita packed their belongings. Before leaving, Maria embraced her father and promised to see him on her birthday.

“I will be there,” he told her again, holding her a little longer than usual.

At the cemetery house, Maria and Amada hurried upstairs.

“I cannot believe you’re marrying the Master,” Amada said, dropping onto the bed. “Maria, he is beautiful. And everyone says he is the most powerful of them all.”

“Is he?” Maria asked, opening her wardrobe.

“Of course he is. And he loves you.”

“Yes. Apparently he does.”

“Then let’s find you a wedding dress.”

Maria considered the dresses hanging before her. “Why don’t we make one? We could alter one of my birthday dresses. We have three days.”

“Three days to make a wedding dress?”

“We know magick, Amada.”

Amada laughed. “Well, when you put it like that.”

Zita appeared at the door. “You two are making the dress yourselves?”

“Yes,” Maria said.

“Then enjoy yourselves. Satea, the witches and I will take care of everything else.”

Later, Satea joined Zita in the ritual room.

“My Lady, the others have arrived.”

“Are all seven ready?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“Then begin. We have very little time.”

By the evening before the wedding, every dress was finished. Maria’s was made from her own white silk, fitted at the waist and falling in a long, full skirt. Amada had embroidered fine gold threads around the sleeves and hem, while Maria had worked tiny pearls into the fabric so that they caught the light when she moved. The neckline was simple, leaving room for Yemanjá’s black pearl collar. It was a dress made by two young women who had spent years sharing a room, exchanging secrets and making things with their own hands.

Amada wore deep blue silk, with a narrow line of silver embroidery at the wrists. Zita’s dress followed the cut of Maria’s, but hers was entirely black, severe and beautiful, with a high neckline and long sleeves. The seven witches, including Satea, wore black gowns marked with different patterns of dark embroidery, each one made to suit the woman who would wear it.

Maria stood before the mirror while Amada adjusted the last pearl.

“Are you nervous?” Amada asked. “Tomorrow you’ll be a married woman. The wife of the Master.”

“Yes,” Maria said. “Tomorrow is a very special day.”

Satea came in carrying their dinner. “Both of you need to eat.”

“Where’s Zita?” Maria asked.

“With the others. More guests are coming than this house has ever received. We have gods, goddesses, demons, witches, and humans to accommodate.”

“Goddesses too?” Amada asked.

“Of course. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”

“And the Orixás,” Maria added.

Amada turned towards her. “They’re coming?”

“Yes. With my father.”

Satea set down the tray. “Tomorrow they will all be here to witness the Master marry the”

She stopped.

“To marry whom?” Amada asked, laughing. “You can’t have forgotten Maria’s name.”

“The most beautiful woman in the world,” Satea replied. “And speaking of tomorrow, Maria, will you open your birthday presents before or after the ceremony?”

“Before. I will celebrate my eighteenth birthday first, and then I will get married.”

“That sounds perfect,” Amada said.

“Then eat and get some rest,” Satea told them. “Morning will come soon.”

The witches worked through the night. By morning the cemetery house had changed. Black cloth hung from the high windows, candles stood along the corridors, and the rooms smelled of herbs, wax and roses. The altar had been prepared in the largest hall, where the Master and Maria would stand before all the powers that had agreed to witness their marriage.

Satea came for Maria early.

“Your bath is ready, little flame.”

In the ritual room, she had filled a deep stone basin with water brought from the Sacred Grounds. Sea salt from Yemanjá had dissolved into it, and leaves blessed beneath Oxum’s waters floated upon the surface. Satea poured in honey, then crushed herbs between her palms until the fragrance rose through the steam. Last came the petals of the roses from her own world, black even at their centres, with the strange scent Maria remembered from her previous bath.

Maria stepped into the water. It closed around her like warm silk. Satea washed her hair, passing the leaves through its white lengths and murmuring words that Maria did not recognise. The black petals gathered against the edge of the basin. When Maria rose, the water had darkened to the colour of old wine.

Satea wrapped her in a clean cloth and led her back upstairs to dress.

At six in the evening, the witches were ready to receive the guests. Baba Carlos was the first to arrive.

“She’s upstairs,” Amada told him. “I’ll take you to her.”

He found Maria standing before the mirror in her white dress. For a moment he could only look at her. He remembered how small she had been when she first learned to walk, how she had reached for his hand whenever she wanted to be carried, and how quickly all those years had passed.

He took both her hands.

“Maria, are you sure you want to marry the Master?”

“Yes, Father.”

“You can change your mind, even now.”

“I know. But I want to marry him.”

Baba Carlos kissed her forehead. “Then I am here with you, minha filha.”

In his palace, the Master stood waiting as Paimon approached.

“My Lord, the guests are assembled. It is time.”

“I am coming.”

“Helel Ben Shachar.”

His father’s voice filled the room. The Master turned towards him.

“Yes, Father?”

“Are you certain about this woman? You do not understand her power. None of us does.”

“Paimon confirmed the prophecy. The marriage will be good for all of us, including you.”

“I have spoken with the angels and examined what Paimon saw. We have found nothing that should prevent the marriage. Yet there is something about her that I recognise and cannot place. I have felt that presence before, somewhere beyond what I can remember.”

“Then perhaps the marriage will finally give us the answers we want.”

“Her power will become accessible to you. But marriage is an exchange, my son. You will also give her access to yours.”

“She is still young. She has hardly begun to understand magick, let alone the powers of the worlds. That is why I am marrying her now, before she learns how much she could ask of me.”

His father considered this. “Then let us hope her ignorance is as complete as you believe.”

“Come, Father. We must not keep her waiting.”

Zita fastened Yemanjá’s black pearl collar around Maria’s neck and set the crown of black pearls upon her white hair. She placed the other gifts from the sea beside them, then took Maria’s right hand and slipped Oxum’s gold ring onto her index finger.

“Now Exu’s gift,” Zita said.

Maria opened the box she had brought from the Sacred Grounds. Inside lay a long black-and-red guia with a black cowrie shell. She kissed it and handed it to Zita, who kissed it too before placing it around Maria’s neck.

“There,” Zita said. “My little flame. You look beautiful.”

“So do you. Your dress looks like mine, only black.”

“You and Amada made them beautifully. Now put on your cloak. Your dress must remain hidden until the ceremony.”

Maria allowed Zita to fasten the cloak around her shoulders.

“The Master’s three boxes are downstairs,” Zita told her. “You will receive the fourth tonight.”

“I know.”

Footsteps sounded beyond the room. Zita looked towards the door.

“Everyone has arrived. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Zita took Maria’s hand and led her downstairs.

When they reached the second landing, the music stopped. Every face turned towards the staircase. The demons, the gods and goddesses, the witches and the invited humans stood beneath the great chandeliers. On one side were Baba Carlos, Maria’s brothers, Alma and Amada. The Orixás were there with them, and Exu stepped forward to help Maria down the last stairs.

The Master waited at the foot of the staircase, watching her. He did not look towards anyone else. When she reached him, he offered his arm and led her to the throne prepared beside his own.

“I would like you all to meet Maria,” he announced, “my future wife. The Chosen.”

Applause filled the hall, and the guests bowed in acknowledgement.

Paimon brought forward a casket. The Master opened it before Maria.

“This is my birthday present to you. When you have a wish, you may open it and ask for whatever you desire.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“And this is my wedding gift.” He took another small object from Paimon, a gold seal bearing his mark. “You asked me to give up my concubines and belong to you alone. I have done so. With this seal, you may hold me to my promise. If you ever doubt my loyalty, you may compel me to prove it.”

Maria accepted the seal and examined it in her palm.

“You are sure?”

“I am yours, Maria.”

The gifts continued: heavy gold bracelets, diamonds and rubies, sapphires the colour of the deepest sea, emeralds set into delicate necklaces, and jewels carried from kingdoms no human had ever entered. Maria thanked the guests, and the servants took the presents to be kept with the others.

When the last gift had been presented, Zita approached.

“The ceremony may begin.”

She led Maria away to remove her cloak while the seven witches arranged themselves around the altar. The guests took their places. Hekate and Lilith stood among the powers closest to the front. Paimon waited beside the Master. His father had arrived with the angels and watched from the other side of the hall. Baba Carlos stood with Exu and the Orixás, while Amada waited beside Alma.

The music began. Zita entered with Maria on her arm. It was the old custom: the witch who had cared for a bride since birth would accompany her to the man she had chosen.

The white dress moved softly across the floor. Its small pearls caught the candlelight. The Master watched Maria approach, and she looked directly at him.

At the altar, before Zita could place Maria’s hand in his, Maria stopped.

“Ben, before we begin, I would like to choose my presents.”

The Master smiled. “Of course, my love. They are yours.”

Exu and Satea came forward together. Each carried two of the boxes, and they placed them upon the altar within Maria’s reach. The Master remained in front of her, watching as she touched the first one.

“I want to make my first wish.”

She opened the box.

“I want the power of every demon to be mine.”

Asmodeus caught the back of his chair. Mammon made a sudden movement towards the Master, then stopped. The room filled with a low disturbance, the sound of beings trying to command what had answered them since the beginning of their existence.

The Master stared at Maria. “What did you ask?”

She opened the second box.

“I want the powers of every god and goddess to be mine.”

Hekate’s face changed. Lilith pressed a hand against her chest. Across the hall, the gods and goddesses looked towards one another, searching for powers they could still feel but could no longer call their own.

“Maria.” The Master’s voice had lost its warmth. “Do not open another.”

She looked at him. “You promised me anything.”

“Yes. And I meant it. But listen to me, Maria. You don’t understand what these wishes will do.”

She opened the third box.

“You will love me more than you love yourself.”

He reached for her, intending to stop her from taking the last box. His hand halted inches from hers. He knew what she was doing to him. He knew he should refuse her. But the thought of causing her pain was suddenly worse than the thought of losing everything he had ever possessed.

“Maria, please.”

She opened the fourth box.

“The world is mine.”

The candles bent towards her. Far beyond the cemetery, the sea withdrew from the shore and returned without a wave. Every shadow in the hall moved towards the altar, including those cast by beings who had never possessed a body.

The Master called for his darkness. It remained where it was, refusing him. For the first time, he could feel the world without being able to touch it.

Maria looked at Zita.

Zita looked back.

Then Maria stepped toward her and walked straight into her.

She disappeared in a single step. Her white hair, her face, the green eyes the Master loved, the hands Baba Carlos had held only hours earlier. The white wedding dress dropped to the floor at Zita’s feet.

For a moment nobody moved.

Baba Carlos said his daughter’s name. He looked at the dress and then at Zita, waiting for Maria to step out again. Amada covered her mouth with both hands.

Zita stood alone in her black dress. There was nothing to separate from her, nothing to release. Maria had entered the place from which she had come.

The Master went towards her.

“Where is Maria?”

Zita watched him approach. He still loved Maria more than himself. He could feel her presence so clearly that he almost expected to see her standing beside the witch. Yet whenever he reached for her, he found Zita.

“Give her back to me.”

“She was never yours.”

He stopped. The same presence he had loved in Maria was looking at him through Zita’s eyes. He remembered the child who had refused to bow, the girl who had kept Zita from him for a year, the young woman who had called him Ben. He remembered Zita standing beside her through every one of those years.

Maria had never been another woman. She had been Zita all along, living a human life within a part of herself. The witch had held her own child-self in her arms, watched her grow, and waited for the day she would return.

“Zita…” The Master could barely speak. “Who are you?”

Before she answered, his father fell to his knees. He had recognised the presence he had failed to name, and there was no strength in him to remain standing before it. The angels followed him. Hekate and Lilith knelt, then the six demons, Paimon, Empusa and Satea. Around the altar, the witches bowed to the floor. Baba Carlos lowered himself beside Maria’s empty dress. The Orixás bent their knees, and Exu knelt with them, his eyes open and his face calm. He had known from the beginning.

The Master was the last to fall. Nothing forced his body down. He knelt because Maria was there. After all, he loved her more than anything that had ever belonged to him, and he finally understood that the woman he had called his servant had let him believe he was her master.

Zita stood before them, alone. For the first time in all the years he had known her, she did not lower her head.

The Master looked up at her. Even his father’s power had gone silent. The being before him had existed before either of them, before there were worlds to divide or thrones to occupy. Every power in the room had come from her, and all of them had just been returned to her hands.

“I am Sophia.”