introduced us to a richly imagined West African-inspired fantasy world, one in which women are sadly still too often the victims of oppression and violence, depending on whether their blood runs pure or tainted during a so-called “Ritual of Purity”.
When I tug on it mentally, a replying vibration travels through me—an acknowledgment from the mothers: they’re here with me. No matter how difficult things become, the goddesses are always there, silently supporting me. Perhaps they’re related to one of the corpses. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve encountered a grieving family member at a site like this. There are many such displays all across Otera now, warnings to women: step one foot out of line and this is what will happen to you.
No one ever guesses my identity when I’m in my battle form, which is what I call the transformation my body undergoes whenever I’m primed for combat. Before, only my face changed: my skin mottled, my cheeks sharpened, and my eyes went black from rim to rim. Now, my entire body becomes raw-boned and skeletal and my nails sharpen to claws.
They never mentioned, of course, that deathshrieks were actually alaki, resurrected by the Gilded Ones after death in terrifying forms so that we could fight the jatu-led human forces who wanted to drive the goddesses’ line to extinction. The woman shudders with grief, tears streaming from her eyes. “My poor child. She never did anything, never once disobeyed the Wisdoms. But then you lot came, with your lies of freedom and another life for women. All she did was utter your name, speak a little of the Gilded Ones, and the priests came for her. They took her. She wasn’t even an alaki; her purity had already been proven by the Ritual. But they said she was wayward. That she would lead others into corruption.
She falls to the ground at her daughter’s feet, sobbing uncontrollably. “My girl, oh, my beloved girl.” “I will not leave her.” When I freed the Gilded Ones from their imprisonment in the mountains, I promised I would fight for the women of Otera—all women, not just the alaki. I return my attention to the old woman. “You cannot go home, and it is dangerous here. If you wish, I can have you taken to Abeya, the city of the goddesses. You’ll be safe there.”
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