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An impure girl is despised by Oyomo, her very existence an offense to Him. Her murder is sanctioned by the Infinite Wisdoms, and who can argue with the holy books? Who would even try? All the families can see from then on is the demon that somehow infiltrated their bloodlines.
Rights are the domain of men and boys—not women, and certainly not alaki. Even so, the word blossoms, like a distant hope I’m afraid to even touch.
Keita is just like all the rest, giving us impossibilities and calling them choices.
“Is this what birds feel like?” Britta shouts excitedly. “No wonder they never wanted us to run.”
Girls can’t shout, drink, ride horses, go to school, learn a trade, learn to fight, move about without a male guardian—we can’t do anything that doesn’t somehow relate to having a husband and family and serving them. Elder Durkas always told us that’s because they’re trying to show us how to live happy, righteous lives. What if they were meant to cage us instead?
For an alaki—for any warrior—death should be a familiar friend, an old partner you greet before you step onto the battlefield. Do not fear it, do not shy from it. Embrace it, tame it to your will.
Was it Oyomo’s will, the village turning its back on me, the elders dismembering me so they could sell my blood? Was it His will for them to cut out my tongue so I couldn’t scream? What about all the things in the Infinite Wisdoms, the rules against running, laughing too loudly, dressing in certain ways—was all of it His will?
“Demon. I am a demon,” each girl declares, bleeding herself to display her golden blood. The blood we have so long been told is cursed. The blood that binds us to each other.
No man has ever offered me his hand before, as if we were equals, but that’s exactly what Keita’s doing.
“No matter my origins, there is worth in what I am.”
“I don’t mind it—being dead, that is. It’s actually peaceful, like you’re floating in warmth and happiness. Whenever people call us monsters, I think about when I’m dead—what it feels like—and I wonder: If I’m that much of a monster, why is Oyomo so kind to me in the Afterlands?”
“And that’s the worst part. The physical body—it heals. The scars fade. But the memories are forever. Even when you forget, they remain inside, taunting you, resurfacing when you least expect.”
