Preparations

Gra'akast

Tamazzalt, the Ascendant, stood in the raised dais of the Basilica looking on at the preparations being made for the upcoming ceremony.

Word was spreading through the Septs and many honouring their ancient traditions would make their way into the capital to witness the selection of the new Prophetess.

The large stone basilica was an ancient building not solely dedicated to worship of the Twins but also where courts were held, as well as serving other official and public functions. The building was rectangular with a central aisle flanked by two narrow corridors, with the roof at five levels high, being higher in the centre over the altar, where a huge abode rose with the depiction of the Maelstrom painted on its surface.

The basilica was centrally located in Holy City, with inbuilt cloisters and residences for high ranking members of The Wandering.

It should be him. He should be leading the people to their destiny. Had he not been blessed by both Twins? Did he not yield both their powers? Yes, it should be him, and the time was ripe to take on the reigns of power and lead the Ozainae.

~~~~

Desert of Skulls

They came upon her at night. She had been travelling for days now, following the whispers in the wind, following the call to the Holy City.
She had heard them approach. A man and a woman in dark robes. She raised he hand to her head in greeting when the throwing dagger took her on her windpipe. She had turned sixteen during the last full moon.

~~~

She missed her family terribly. The storm had been the largest she had witnessed in her life. That last night she had heard the call. The call from the Twins, from her Gods. As clear if her mother has when her mother woke her in the morning with sweet kisses. She had followed the path. Followed the old waterholes her grandma had told her about. She was slowly making her way to the Holy City she could tell. One morning she heard the thumping gallop of a camel. She turned to look, smiling, happy that she would have some company. She was a man in dark robes riding towards her. She hesitated for a spilt second. The man rode her down, trampling her under the long legs of his mount. She would not live to see her twelfth year.

~~~

She had stumbled upon the oasis by sheer luck. She knew she was lost. Her skin was blistered, her feet bloody and her food almost gone.
The palm trees had dates. She could sate her hunger and thirst here before continuing on. The call was strong. She felt like she walked in the
footsteps of her Prophetess. It had been easy to leave her father's tent. He was drunk most nights. She would not miss him. She knelt before the waters and drank deep, careful to do so slowly. A shadow crossed over her. She saw the reflection of a dark robed woman in the waters, standing behind her. For a second she thought it was Yther, coming to greet her, but suddenly she felt a hand grab her neck and push her head into the cooling waters. Seventy seasons she had witnessed. She would witness no more...