To Believe or Not to Believe?

That morning, her fingers danced just centimeters from the flowers and their vibrant leaves, not wishing to wither this brilliantly curated garden. But a sudden twitching of them gradually came about as she counted each flower passed. A part of her, deeply rooted at the pit of her soul, did in fact want to see them die--a more concentrated feeling than ever. Decaying under her fingertips and reduced to nothing. To waste. Much like she would see her enemies one day.

Restraint.

Shalia withdrew her hands and folded them behind her back as she continued through the garden slowly, bright sun stretching down over her. She couldn’t march around destroying everything so recklessly. Well, she could try to, but she knew deep down her current state was not at its fullest potential. Not yet. She could destroy plenty of things in the time to come. People. But not here. Not this beautiful day or these sweet flowers. How many more quiet and rather peaceful days would come after this was unknown, and Shalia wished to bask in it for as long as sun and moon allowed. Get everything in order, ready herself for harder, crueler days ahead.
Being under the sunlight felt better knowing the ailphri cream was protecting her during these walks, the only real walking she could do without armed protections. The area was crawling with priests and guards at a heightened rate. Near impenetrable. A fortress. But how she longed to really see the city again without threat. Too dangerous to test. Doubtful the Ascendant would even let her wander without someone on guard tailing her, at least. Shalia saw the troubled look in his expression as she recounted her harrowing experience to him, completely sure she looked like an enraged bull. As if everything weren’t messy enough with dead girls, moving shadows, and trembling traditions. Predators stalked the city now, possibly in more forms than just one.

The bright red petals of one flower paired well with the yellow ones nearby, and it could not have been more fitting for the news she recieved.
A flame-haired Helian had come from the desert. Survived its hellish hold and come here for a reason. Every way the maiden was described stung Shalia's chest like a swarm of angry hornets. It could not be true, was not realistic? She was just another girl, another witch lost to time and the mercy of the world. No supplies, food, or healers like the one who fixed her damaged bone and left Shalia’s deep cut seamlessly mended. Her magik was centered on animals, not water or dust. Were there more facets to her power like Shalia had discovered in herself? Surely…surely it could not be Islana. The scared and weak girl who held so much promise, but trembled beneath anyone's touch. And yet, it wasn't unbelievable. Amastan's smile said it all. Shalia’s immediate shock said it all, too.

Perhaps there was some reason after all for Shalia’s thoughts being unable to bar the memory of her, block the genuine concern out. She did still care even if it was just a little bit. But she did not like to accept that reality, not aloud. Partially content with but somewhat sad that her attachment still clung to life. That she could not make herself completely cold and unbreakable as Koshnem and others would likely have her.

Islana had shown extensive interest in the ways of the desert, as she recalled the campfire conversation between Islana and the priests, and what she had the two recall to her after the girl vanished. Or maybe her interest level was normal and Shalia was too delirious to perceive it properly. Her disappearance was so sudden and followed by the sandstorm almost immediately. It lined up but was so difficult to believe that she was now a Penitent, that the priests didn’t send her scrambling just to irritate Shalia, that she didn’t just grow afraid and run away from her eccentric master. Rather die out there, free and on her own terms than in captivity. Not far from how Shalia viewed her escape from Ostiarium and the cult. Did every weaver destined for greatness have something like that in store for them? If Islana had felt this Call, Shalia could not deny how strong of an impulse it was. An impulse that changed her own life and moved mountains when she felt Noraura’s faintest whispers, tugging on her puppet strings an entire sea away. Dropping everything for it.

The call of the gods could not be ignored.

It was absolutely her. But not once had Shalia thought by bringing her out here that she would be delivering a potential Seer to The Wandering. Dropping her unknowingly right into the hands of the Twins.
'Maybe they'll reward me? I do like rewards.' She chuckled at the thought. What a silly, grim circumstance.
At least she was alive…though maybe that was a problem itself. Her sentimental attachment to the woman had occupied too much of her headspace after they met, but it also felt right. Acceptable. She could let herself have this soft-spot for now. She had wanted to guide the girl after all, show her a new life through a lens unexplored, unexpected. Understand her and the power they both wielded. If only she could see Islana, see what the desert made of her, listen to everything she had to say. That had to be one hell of a journey!

If she even wished to see Shalia at all by the end of this, maybe as Prophetess. A wild thought. Meeting Sister Locust in the body of someone she knew. Would she even remember the witch at that point? Where would her memories go? A person can change a lot over the course of turbulence and chaos, especially when directed by a deity. Under pressure and buried beneath things out of their control...

Control. That was another matter.

The Inquisition folks were not something that could be wrangled in easily. But she had a feeling this Brotherhood would prove a valuable tool against this threat. Sneaky as her hunters and with a mutually negative reputation. Fire with fire. In the long run, not as a great a force as the Horde, but for now she had the chance to give an order to this bloodthirsty band. Keep the threat minimal and controlled until it was wiped clean out. She only wished to hear of their lifeforce being spilled, the Helian words falling out of their mouths under the heat of torture, and to witness it all unfold if she had her way. She just needed to find them again, find Amalu and accept his hunt.
The witch needed more answers if she were to be satisfied and better equipped. Where the Brotherhood could be found, how one even raised the Sand Horde, how to make magik stronger...she desperately hoped more answers could be uncovered. If not where she first thought to look, then where to go next? Figure it out on her own?

Tamazzalt was no doubt occupied greatly most hours of the day and someone like him definitely worked late into the evening. The priests, though showing disdain for the group, might have information to offer or at least rumors and flashes of black robes to go off of. Someone had to know something. And if they didn’t, she could speak to the Ascendant the next day if time spared him a moment. See if he were willing to offer information to a diplomat wishing to speak to this force…inquire about their shadowy services.
She would need to use her words carefully.