Tomi Adeyemi

Baba’s cries as the soldiers wrapped a chain around her neck. Her screams as they dragged her into the dark.

The incantations that spewed from her mouth like lava. The magic of death that led her astray.

I think about the way her corpse hung from that tree.

I think about the king who took her away.

Mama Agba looks like any other elder in the village. You would never guess a woman her age could be so lethal.

Yemi clears her throat at the front of the ahéré, a not-so-subtle reminder that she’s already passed this test. She smirks at us as she twirls her hand-carved staff, eager to see which one of us she gets to defeat in our graduation match.

“Mama Agba, I…”

She leans in as my pulse races, eyes glimmering with the truth.

A distraction …

A way to buy us time.

“I’m sorry, Mama Agba. Forgive me.”

“Just get back to your station.”

I bite back a smile and bow my head in apology, sweeping low enough

Just a glance at the ornate snow leopanaire makes my stomach clench, a harsh reminder of the monarch who sent them.

What once resembled an arena now plays the convincing part of a seamstress’s shop.

His black blade gleams in his sheath, a metal more precious than gold.

Majacite …

A weaponized alloy forged by King Saran before the Raid. Created to weaken our magic and burn through our flesh.

Just like the black chain they wrapped around Mama’s neck.

They don’t hate you, my child. They hate what you were meant to become.”

This is our story. Our history.

A truth the king tried to bury with our dead.

“In the beginning, Orïsha was a land where the rare and sacred maji thrived. Each of the ten clans was gifted by the gods above and given a different power over the land. There were maji who could control water, others who commanded fire. There were maji with the power to read minds, maji who could even peer through time!”

“Each maji was born with white hair, the sign of the gods’ touch.