Rise of the Banners

Outskirts of Desdem - Sand Horde Camp

Islana blinked twice as she listen to the man in front of her speak. For a few heartbeats it was as if she could not recognise who spoke to her or understood his words.
She had been somewhere else. At the edges of the desert, but far to the north, near the borders of the lands of the infamous Zadrid, the Greymen. She had been leading an army as well, but smaller. A punitive raid of sorts, she seemed to recall. She had been taken by them before the Pilgrimage turned her into the Prophetess and now here she was to punish them for the insults and injuries they had inflicted on her being.

She heard the words spoken Here, but could not pull away from the feeling of Then. She had taken great pleasure in burning their homes and boats, salting their fields and reaping their children, but her eyes had drifted more and more to the sea beyond Hel's Maw. Something called to her. As if a much older part of her had suffer the same horrifying fate she had experienced at the hands of these brutal men, much longer ago. And something called for her from the Deep.

Her vision swam. She saw an old man in front of her. Izdärasen...
"Sister... Are you well? What hails you? Should we..." he hesitated. "Should we call for a healer?" he asked concerned at her absence of mind.
She caught the worried looks of two of her other advisors, Aguzul and Amastan. And just like that she was back. Here. Now. Another war. Another place.

Before she could answer he continued. "The Odsier have sent an emissary. He seeks an audience with the leader of the Ozainae..."