Tainted relief

Standing witness in the sudden rain, Alexis was in awe of Islana’s newfound charisma as she conducted the crowd with confidence and grace.

At least she prayed that this was still Islana. Not a centuries old spirit wearing her dear friend‘s face.
Her words let her hope that her piuthar beag was still there, bolstered by her predecessors rather than possessed by them.

Alexis wanted to go to her. To speak to her. To learn how it had come to this and to make sure she was still herself and where she wanted to be. But she wasn’t sure if that was possible. Was there a way to reach her, preferably in secret?
Because she doubted she could hope for an official audience.

Islana might be the newly hailed leader of the Ozainae, but Alexis was very aware that she herself was still the enemy.

War was still coming. And even if she had not said so directly, it seemed Islana was going to pick up arms against her former people. Alexis didn’t know how she felt about that. She would be lying if she claimed she still felt strongly connected to Ostiarium. Much had happened, and there was little left in the Gate City she still cared about.

The Duke, and now the Inquisition, had sown the wind and would reap the storm.
But what of the farmers? The loggers? The fishers? All those people that had not come to join a battlefield, but merely to make a new life for themselves? They did not deserve what was to come. But then again, neither had the Odsier. War did not care for casualties.

The Ozainae, on the other hand, were no victims. That sand horde of theirs was infamous for a reason. She could be wrong, of course, but when they swept over Fang and the Odonine all this time ago, she doubted it had been in self-defense. No. They, too, were conquerors.

And herself? A warrior that was hesitant to pick up her sword because she could see no right side in this battle. A drifter that did not know where she belonged anymore.

But who knew? Maybe she would perish before she had to truly worry about that.

She had her own calling to follow, and it was calling her away. At least for the time being. She was seeking for a truth now as much if not more than she was seeking to complete the hammer. And that truth was bound to Sister Locust, of that she was sure. Now that Sister Locust was someone very dear to her, she dreaded what she might find. But she could not turn away. She wanted to know. She needed to. To whatever end, and be it her own.

At least, she could go in the knowledge that Islana was alive and well, cherished instead of in chains. It would have to suffice.