Roll of the Dice

The recent days were rather uneventful for her against the backdrop of a city overflowing with life and sprinkled with chaos. Aside from valuable time with the Ascendant, part of it was spent easing back into guarded walks of the area near the basilica and visiting the archives again to keep herself busy and sane. Stir craze was a very real thing and keeping herself to only a handful of locations grew irritating. Strolls through the garden and copious amounts of paper and ink to satisfy boredom. Trying new dishes and coughing on spices that set her mouth aflame and made her nose run.
The two young girls who were her servants had warmed up to her, and the witch to them enough so that she sometimes wanted to share a meal and make small talk. And then, times called for being alone again. Socializing was exhausting after weeks upon weeks of it, following years of not doing much at all.

Shalia and Tamazzalt held many conversations during this time. One of the most notable was when they told each other what kind of lives they lead before being appointed to their positions. She had asked him 'who was Tamazzalt before The Ascendant?' with a curious gaze, stirring her hibiscus tea slowly. In turn she would disclose her history which he seemed keen to learn.
Tamazzalt was born to the Kizdur Sept and at a young age his magik was discovered. Such a feat as wielding both dust and water was surely a sign from the Twins, and the priesthood came to retrieve such a special individual. He was brought into the company of the priests and sitting Seer who decided he should belong to the Temple of the Wandering. When he became old enough and proved not only his power but his dedication and leadership, he was given the position as The Ascendant--a title evident of his rise through the Ozainae clergy to become the second most powerful person in the Great Desert of Skulls. He always felt a strong sense of purpose and that there was something grander for him to accomplish.

As for learning more about magik through him, she had little new information. Only that their magik presented itself very differently. Not once did Tamazzalt speak about having to grow his own magik, no rigorous training or confusions, no near-death experiences from pushing himself too far, nothing that might guide her to advancing. He simply had his power that grew with him and that was that. A great confusion to Shalia. That was impossible right? How did that work? Were people sometimes born to obtain special roles similar to how some were chosen to be Prophetess? Was he so devoted to the Twins that his great strength came about that way? A gift? Didn’t all weavers need some sort of tragedy to compel them toward greatness, some threat to become better at protecting themselves and others from?

She was devoted to Noraura, though not blindly. She did not tear down the gods of others to make her own triumph. Is that what she should be doing, be no better than the priests calling the goddess a demon or the Helians trying to chisel away old and heretical practices? She recognized all the gods that had some tangible following. Even Slivikhi, though she knew only briefly of him through scattered whispers that winter.
And still, every one of them considered, only Noraura brought her truth and enlightenment. Feelings of real power and purpose where no other had. Saved her and offered a third chance at life when the others were lost. Shalia did like feeling important. She also liked living. The pressure that came with it when coupled together, not as much.

Hearing about his life filled her with jealousy. Here she was having shared her experiences with lifelong persecution, powerlessness and living without hope, abandoning everything she knew and loved. Horrors witnessed of cannibalism and sickness, of violation and violence. A life that scarcely allowed rest or comfort. Running endlessly. Noraura hadn’t given her magik; the witch brought it all across the sea, held in a little, frustratingly locked box. She was given life and a place to call home, people that would cherish her for what was once hated. A place to thrive and a boon for the cold. She became the cold and was better for it. And most of all, the icy goddess gave her a key for that box.

The Ascendant had it easy. No notable hardships he spoke of just…being born in the right place at the right time and everything else fell into place. Maybe she was just exceedingly bitter about it and that clouded the whole topic, but it was no wonder to her his ego was massive. It all started young and without challenge. Praised for his abilities by his own people where hers would rather hang and burn her for them.

But Shalia was still no closer to mastery. No closer to the true power she needed to tear down Ostiarium. To be really deserving of Noraura’s grace and the fealty of the Aghul and Ozainae alike. To be more than she or Koshnem ever bargained for.

Regarding the Brotherhood, she had found her answer; they made a headquarters in the eastern part of the city, a building that Tamazzalt offered some characteristics of. A war camp was also about a day outside of the city. But he did not pry as to why she wished to know. She respected that. For now he did not need to know of the hunt on the horizon. That was her primary goal if they were unable to do anything about the call to arms until a new Seer came about…if one would.

If it was easier to come by a bonecaster out here, she would be more eager to try and contact Koshnem and give him an update on the situation. Something to do before she left the city. Have more solid information to deliver then. Already there was a lot to relay, but by then she could offer the full scope of the events and not be shrouded in uncertainty. Waiting all that time for the Armat Caravanserai was not an option.

Today Shalia and Tamazzalt had been having lunch together when he had to be pulled away for something urgent. The Trial no doubt. But if he was going to be off doing important things, so would she.
This decision would be hers to make. Though, she could not ignore what both Amalu and Tamazzalt had said prior.

'I promise you a hunt like no other…'

'One must do what is best for the future of our people regardless of consequences…You will come to understand that soon I feel.'

She knew what they meant, and yet, she didn't. Everyone was so damn cryptic all the time. And everyone had their skeletons to hide.
It was high time to pull some pesky bones from the dark. Rid the city of its enemy pests. Wash her hands clean of them.

Shalia now stood outside of the building occupied by the Brotherhood of the Ebony Hand, waiting patiently for Amalu to catch her scent.