A Familiar Stranger

It felt like ages since she demanded an audience with Sister Locust, but the time had finally come. Not at the best time, a minor conflict with the hunt, but everything conflicted nowadays. She was told this incarnation would take action, and Shalia would assure that.
Butterflies filled her stomach when Amalu instructed her on how to be to begin the search and destroy mission. She had not been too familiar with the obelisks, but she would be there one way or another. Hunt while the new reign was malleable.

Shalia said her goodbyes to the white-eyed man and moved quickly toward the square.
An energetic step carried her through each stride. It was not long before she came upon crowds of people funneling toward the same destination, and the witch kept to the sidelines when she wasn't given space due to the occasional Ozainae's recognition of her with her scarf pulled down.

At some point she grew irritated of the slowness and elbowed her way through the swarm of people with thick ice covering her arms, glowing in the night. This gave her further opportunities to move and eventually she was at the square, shoving her way through the group. When she had reached a better view, the ice dissipated quickly.

And what a view it was. The wind and sand still swirled and howled in the air above, rustling the mane of red that stood clutching the railing. Her green eyes vibrantly looked out upon her new people and her fair skin was illuminated under moonlight.
Shalia's mouth twisted into a smile that wavered slightly while gawking at Islana. Was she seeing this right? She giggled briefly, still not fully believing her eyes. This was no dream, was it? The girl she knew had survived the desert and come out as the Prophetess. Came out on top of a civilization that only months ago was unknown to her. Became part of its history.

Arcadia had her ways of pulling Helian women into roles like that. Dragging them into some godly mess.

Tamazzalt stood next to her with his staff in hand, churning the sand and dust above them. His dark eyes were focused solely on the new Prophetess and from this distance, Shalia was unable to read the exact expression, but he was good at masking anything unsavory in public. It must hurt him to no longer be charge. Those days were behind him. She wondered what he would be like now...

Shalia reminded herself that Islana might no longer be present after something that sounded harrowing and drawn out. But something within her felt proud even if it had little to do with Shalia’s hand. She had not meant to bring the girl into the desert from the start; what would have happened if she didn't? Would her journey to becoming Seer never unfold, or would she have felt the call one day, but already suffered at the Kumik's hands?

And why her? Shalia knew she was promising, but not like this! There was no way she could bring the young woman back to Fang. Her duties now belonged here now and no one like the Seer would genuinely consider being the apprentice to a mountain witch--the flesh of a rival god.
This saddened her. There went the opportunity to understand another's magik once more. To have a deep influence. She had lost Islana once, but now she feared the redhead was out of her reach for good.

Please don't be true?

Shalia was happy to see the woman alive and in a position where she could be eternally protected. The Islana she knew needed as much security and hope as one could have, so perhaps this was the best place for her. Shalia could not question gods she knew little of, but respected that they made this choice. It was pleasant seeing her up there commanding the attention and reverence of the city, not cowering with her tail between her legs or with tears in her eyes.

Many had gathered for this moment. Too many for Shalia’s comfort. The crowd's volume was incredibly overwhelming and her fingers held tightly to the sides of her robe to keep it under control. So many people, so much noise…it made her sick. A little angry.

She inhaled deeply as they went quiet and the Prophetess began speaking. The native desert tongue flowed out of her with ease, and Shalia had some difficulty keeping up. Her understanding was fragmented in areas, but the general message was a sort of acceptance speech and a pep talk. Heads lowered in prayer and Shalia remained staring up at the woman. Part of her didn't want to believe it. But it did mean she was safe.
Then there came a deep chanting that Shalia could not decipher any of but it gave off an unmistakable energy. The way her skin seemed to buzz every time she wrote or spoke something of ancient Odon, like the words came through her body and not her mouth or fingertips. Something ancient indeed. Hair raised on the back of her neck at its sound.

The crowd roared to life again after, clearly showing the effectiveness of the Seer's words. The sudden cheering made Shalia jump slightly and clench her jaw, taking her out of the immersion.

"Good for her," she shakily whispered and pressed her lips into a soft smile, trying to drown out the volume with thoughts.

They would speak sometime soon, something Shalia had waited for and yet felt underprepared all the same. This revelation was certainly jarring.

How did you speak to someone you thought dead, only to realize they now house some ancient, immortal soul? What was that like? Would she even remember Shalia? Would she really be the incarnation to wage war?