From the mind of Kuyili — the fire that opened the gates
Night before the raid.
They're all asleep.
Even the queen.
Even the birds.
But not me.
No. I don't sleep tonight.
Because tonight, I become something else.
Not a soldier.Not a martyr.Not a name on a scroll.
Tonight — I become a flame that moves.
I sit by the oil vats.Rub it into my skin slowly.It stings.I let it.
It's strange — this quiet.
The silence before a body becomes fire.
No one teaches you how to prepare for this.
No one tells you that your bones will feel light, like they already know…They are about to be set free.
I remember my mother's voice:"Girls don't get to become gods. Only widows and warriors are remembered."
I remember my father's blood on the temple steps.
I remember Queen Velu's scream the night her palace burned — not in fear… but in rebirth.
And I remember her words to me, whispered behind the bamboo curtain when I told her what I planned:
"Kuyili… this is not your burden to carry."
And I said:
"Amma, you lit the match.Let me be the torch."
They'll never write songs about me like they will for her.
They'll never know what I felt just before I ran into the enemy fort — flames licking my back, hair smoking, skin cracking.
But let me tell you what I felt:
Power.
Not the kind men hold.The kind women earn — with every wound, every silence, every scream swallowed.
I didn't run into fire because I wanted to die.
I ran into fire because I wanted them to.
I wanted them to know —We are not born to obey.We are not born to mourn.
We are born to burn holes into their empire.
My body will not last.
But my fire?
Oh, that will live in every girl who dares to raise her voice like a blade.
Every queen who is told she's alone.
Every soldier with oil on her skin and rebellion in her heart.
So if you ever light a lamp, and the flame flickers — strangely, softly —Know this:
That's me.
Still running.Still burning.Still breaking open their gates.
🔥 "I am not dying. I am opening the way."
— Kuyili