Chapter 4: The First Kill

The announcement came during evening meal.

Kpengla stood before the assembled recruits—seven of them now, down from the original twenty. The rest had quit, failed, or been sent away. These seven had survived six weeks of brutal training, multiple wall climbs, weapons drills that left them bleeding, and the slow transformation from village girls into something harder.

“Tomorrow,” Kpengla said, her voice carrying across the eating area, “you execute.”

Silence. Even the sound of eating stopped.

“Each of you will be assigned a prisoner. You will use your blade. You will take their head.” She paused, letting that sink in. “This is not practice. This is not sparring. This is killing. Cold, deliberate, ordered killing. If you cannot do this, you are not Mino. You will never be Mino.”

One of the recruits—the noble girl who’d fled her cousin—raised her hand tentatively. “Who are the prisoners? What did they do?”

“They are enemies of Dahomey. Captured in raids. Sentenced to death by the King.” Kpengla’s expression was unreadable. “What they did doesn’t matter. What matters is whether you can follow orders. Whether you can kill when told to kill, not just when you’re afraid or angry or defending yourself.”

She looked at each recruit in turn.

“Some of you will fail. You’ll hesitate, or refuse, or make a mess of it and run away crying. Those of you who fail will leave. Immediately. No second chances.” Her eyes settled on Ayo. “But those who succeed—those who can look a helpless man in the eyes and take his life because you were ordered to—you’ll be one step closer to becoming what we are.”

Kpengla turned to leave, then paused.

“Eat well tonight. Get rest if you can. Tomorrow, you become killers. Or you become nothing.”

She left.

The recruits sat in stunned silence.

Ayo looked down at her bowl. The food—fish stew and millet—suddenly seemed impossible to swallow. Around her, others were having the same reaction.

Nala whispered, “I can’t do this.”

Ayo didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. Because she was already doing the calculation in her head.

She’d climbed the wall eight times now. Torn her breasts apart repeatedly. Ripped off her own nipple rather than let it hang. Fought with real blades. Let Kessie cut her during sparring.

She’d done all of that without hesitation once she’d committed to the choice.

This was just one more choice. One more price.

Wasn’t it?

That Night - The Barracks

Ayo lay on her mat, staring at the ceiling. Around her, the other recruits were restless. Someone was crying quietly. Someone else was praying.

Nala’s voice came from the darkness: “Are you going to do it?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because the alternative is leaving. And I can’t leave.”

“Even if it means murdering someone?”

Ayo was quiet for a long moment. “It’s not murder if you’re ordered to do it. It’s execution. It’s duty.”

“That’s just words. The man still dies.”

“Yes. He does.” Ayo turned her head to look at Nala’s silhouette. “Are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know. I keep thinking ... what if it was my father? My brother? What if someone executed them because they were ordered to?”

“Then they’d be dead. And whoever did it would have to live with that choice.” Ayo’s voice was flat. “Just like we’ll have to live with whatever we do tomorrow.”

Footsteps approached. Kessie, making her evening rounds.

She paused between their mats. “Can’t sleep?”

“No,” several voices answered.

“Good. You shouldn’t be able to sleep easily the night before your first kill.” Kessie sat down, cross-legged, between the mats. “I couldn’t sleep either. Twenty years ago. I was sixteen. They brought out a man who’d been captured raiding our borders. I was supposed to execute him.”

Ayo turned to face her. “Did you hesitate?”

“Yes. For about ten seconds, I stood there with the blade raised, looking at him, thinking about what I was about to do.” Kessie’s voice was quiet. “Then I did it anyway. Took three strikes because I was shaking so badly. He screamed through all of them.”