Chapter 15: Fire & Fury

Maloth barely noticed the gentle roll of the massive greatship as it carved its way south across the wild sea. Called the Goliath, she was the largest ship in the fleet, and sailed at the head. Below decks, he was seated naked on a plush armchair in his private quarters, taking his ease. His ahk’sheth were scattered around the spacious, luxuriously-furnished cabin, ready to appease his every desire. As it should be.

“Here you are, my Lord,” Glinda purred as she placed an elaborately-worked gold goblet in Maloth’s hand. Idly, he let his eyes travel over her well-curved Dwarven form as he took the cup, but despite the pleasantness of her soft, lush nudity and her pretty face, be barely paid her any mind. Kreya stood before his chair, as bare as Glinda, though much different in shape and appearance. The slender Warden of the Dead was pale like the Dwarf, though there the resemblance ended. Angular runes decorated her skin from head to toe, markings of her heritage, and her powers. Her scalp was smooth-shaven, which made her pale blue eyes seem all the more brilliant. She was a fine piece of property. Perhaps his favourite, at least at the moment.

“And so I have come to believe,” Kreya was saying in her sharp accent, “that this method will allow us to achieve our goal.” Her eyes kept dipping lower, to where Morana was knelt between Maloth’s thighs, servicing him with her mouth. The Orc was doing her job well. Maloth rewarded her with a caress over her pointed hear, which made her moan softly. Kreya licked her lips unconsciously, no doubt wishing she was in Morana’s place.

“This is pleasing to hear,” Maloth replied to Kreya, watching her flush with pride. “How do you propose we implement this technique?”

“Without being able to study a Titan,” Kreya answered smoothly, “I am inclined to take the safest measure, and attempt to catch her unaware, if possible.”

A flicker of irritation tarnished his good mood. “Unaware,” he said flatly.

“Yes, my Lord.” Kreya was clever, and powerful, but the sudden uncertainty in her eyes made it clear who was the real power in the room. As if there had been any question of it to begin with. “I believe she must rest at times, to recover her strength.”

Maloth considered her words. He knew the Titans were not all-powerful, else they would wrack the world with disasters until they got what they wanted. Not for the first time, he wished he knew the depths of that power, its limitations. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but the ship lurched suddenly, sending Kreya sprawling across the rug that covered most of the floor. The others stumbled or fell, and Morana clutched his thighs with strong hands to keep herself where she was, though she pulled her head up in surprise, her dark eyes wide.

A bright flash brought Maloth’s eyes to the nearest porthole, to his left, and thunder crashed outside the ship, vibrating the deck planks above his head. It appeared smooth seas and clear skies had become a wild storm without warning. Growling, he pushed himself up from his chair, roughly knocking Morana aside. The ship listed to the other side he crossed his quarters, but he kept his balance easily as he pulled the door open and ascended the ladder up to the deck.

Wind and rain assaulted him as his head came clear of the hatch, but he barely felt it. Anger simmered in him. It always did, these days. Had Rava finally betrayed him? Had she come to try sinking his ships in the middle of the ocean? He laughed into the tempest as crew and soldiers frantically rushed about, securing lines and lowering sails, trying to keep their feet as waves crested and crashed over the deck. She could try! But his fleet was the biggest ever made! With the strongest ships crafted by the most skilled hands in the world! No, Maloth would not fail here, not so close to his goal.

As if in answer to his conviction, the storm died as suddenly as it had come, the swell easing. The clouds over the ship opened in a neat circle that showed the night sky above, scattered with stars. His sharp eyes caught the pale, slender figure that tumbled from that circle, plummeting downward. A crewman - a big Orc with deep brown skin - saw where Maloth was looking and called out, pointing, drawing everyone’s attention upward.

Maloth watched as she fell - it was obvious it was a woman from her shape - with arms folded across his chest. So, she had not betrayed him after all. Then what had happened to her? His mind worked on the matter as she smacked wetly into the deck not three paces from him, the heavy planks cracking under the impact. A few crewmen rushed forward, but Maloth forestalled them with a raised hand, making them step back warily. They knew what happened when he was displeased. Several of their fellows were now at the bottom of the sea for being too dense to know better.

Before he could call for Kreya, she was at his side, still clad in only her skin. “By the Nightmother’s whisper,” she breathed when her eyes fell on the unconscious Titan, lying there on the deck as helpless as a babe. “Is she alive?”

Maloth wanted to know the same thing. He took three steps and knelt by Rava, placing a hand over her chest. Did she even have a heart? Did she breathe? The Titan stirred at his touch and groaned softly, but her eyes did not open.

“Take her below,” Maloth ordered Kreya before standing and moving towards the hatch. “I believe we have our chance. Do not disappoint me.”

Kreya leaped into motion, hurrying forward and picking up the bigger woman with ease. “Back to work!” she snapped at the crew who were standing around watching, most of them probably enjoying the eyeful they were getting. Her words launched them into action, and as Maloth vanished below, the deck was once again a flurry of activity.

A few minutes later, Maloth stood by the huge bed in his cabin, looking down at Rava, at her perfect, sleeping form, her long white hair fanned out around her like a halo. Such beauty. Such power. Kreya stood beside him, whispering something in her native tongue and moving her hands in front of her in precise motions. Purple light flickered between her fingers.

The rest of his akh’sheth were standing along the walls, out of the way. Except for Mali, who had to kneel on the floor due to her height. They all watched with anticipation. On Maloth’s other side was Shaelor, one of his two Morgai, tall and ethereally beautiful with that grey skin and those glowing red eyes. The black runes decorating her bare body glowed orange in a steady, pulsing beat. She was at full power, or close to it. Morgai needed to resupply their energy every so often, or they grew weak.

“We must all place our hands on her,” Kreya said, her hands still moving. As she spoke, a small six-pointed star within a circle appeared on Rava’s chest between her breasts, glowing purple. The Titan stirred, moving her head from side to side as if having a bad dream. Suiting her own words, Kreya leaned forward and placed her hands on Rava’s head. Kneeling, Maloth put his own on the smooth skin of her midriff, revelling at the vibrating power beneath her skin. Shaelor copied his pose, but touched the Titan’s long leg.

Kreya closed her eyes. “Good. I can feel the points of location now.” Maloth wondered what that meant. Some of the Warden’s runes began to glow in that same purple light. “I must just bridge them...” Something surged from Kreya, an unseen force that flowed into the Titan, then crashed into Maloth and Shaelor. The Morgai grunted, and Maloth clenched his teeth against the tide. Rava’s eyes flew open, and she began to scream.

Aran lay back on the soft grass under the clear night sky, his head resting on his bedroll. Elaina was snuggled up against him, her cheek resting on his chest. Their bare skin was still slick with sweat from their recent lovemaking. He’d missed her so much. To have her back with him, lying beside him, was like a dream he never wanted to wake from.

Her fingers were tracing the scars on his chest. “What about this one?” she asked softly as she followed the shape of a small circle with a horizontal line through it.

“Honour, I think,” he answered, stroking the skin in the hollow of her waist.

“And this one?” Her fingers moved to a lower rune, the puckered skin there in the shape of a half-moon.

“Hope.” He thought he remembered correctly. Hegra had taught him the meaning of most of them before they’d parted ways. He hoped she was safe and well. Orcs travelled quickly; the Ash’goth should almost be at the main force by now. Maybe a few days still. Had the Druids caught up to the Orcs yet? Slowly, it was all coming together, though there were still so many loose ends to tie up. Where was Sara? Amina knew something, he was sure, yet she had not offered anything on Sara’s whereabouts. Aran would have to enquire.

“What are you worrying about now?” Elaina asked, propping herself up on an elbow and looking down at him. Gods, she was a beauty.

He smiled up at her and tucked a loose strand of her fair hair behind her ear. “Nothing that pretty face can’t make me forget about.”

She smiled, but her eyes narrowed. “Nice try. Out with it.”

“Aros really should make it so that amatharn can read one another’s minds,” he told her with a straight face. “Then I would not have to answer all these questions.”

“Well too bad,” she retorted, rolling atop him so they were nose to nose. Her level look said she wasn’t going to let it go, so he relented and told her.

“I worry about Sara, too,” she said as she sat up straight, straddling him. Her fit yet lushly curved body looked wonderful in the starlight as she stretched her arms above her head and arched her back. “I hope she hasn’t done anything foolish.”

“Well, she already has,” Aran observed, somewhat distracted by the view. “Running off was exactly that.”

“There had to have been a reason,” Elaina replied, relaxing her stretch and putting her hands on his chest.

“Oh, I am sure there was,” Aran said with a sigh as he placed his hands on her thighs. “Can you sense the others? I am feeling too relaxed to use my vala right now.”

She chuckled and wiggled her bottom a little. “Relaxed, are we? Not too relaxed, I hope?”

“Never too relaxed for that, my love,” he replied with a grin, moving his hands up to her waist. “But before we lose track of time again, are they nearby?”

Elaina focused for a moment and looked north, over Aran’s head. She didn’t open her vala, though. Her lips curved in a broad smile. “Noah is not far away. Judging by his feelings right now, Amina is giving him an education he won’t soon forget.”

Aran laughed. “I suppose that means we have at least a little more time together then?”

She lowered herself down so she could kiss him. “Sounds fine to me.”

The next morning dawned bright and fair over the northwest of the Sorral Plain. The four arohim and Noah were already well on their way when the sun peeked over the horizon, illuminating the endless sea of gently swaying grass, turning the tips of the tall green blades a brilliant orange. Two days of good riding had put them within reach of Senna, a farming village only a very short ride from Maralon City. They could have travelled much faster, but only at the expense of energy they might need once they found Agni.

“So beautiful,” Elaina murmured from atop Willow as she took in the landscape. She was riding to Aran’s left. Smythe and Elaina were a few lengths ahead, side by side.

“I know,” Aran and Noah both said at once. Neither of them meaning the grass. Aran looked at the hunter, riding on Elaina’s other side, and grinned, but Noah cleared his throat and dropped his eyes, unsure of himself.

“Relax, Noah,” Aran assured him. “There is nothing to feel awkward about.” Elaina gave Aran a grateful smile.

“With all respect,” Noah began in a rigid voice, “I must protest that statement, Aran.”

Elaina’s lips tightened in suppressed mirth.

“Don’t you dare be amused!” Noah snapped, glaring at Elaina, but it only made her cheeks bulge with a barely-withheld laugh. “Your sense of humour is bloody infuriating, you know that?”

“Oh don’t I know it,” Aran said. “She really is a bother sometimes.”

Noah grinned at that, and Elaina shot Aran a playful glare.

“But all jokes aside,” Aran continued. “Be at ease, my friend. You are welcome among us, and you are rightful to your place as her meldin, as am I.”

Noah mulled that over for a minute. “Thank you, Aran. I suppose I know that already, but it is taking some getting used to, having you here and all. I’ve never ... Well, shared a woman before.” His cheeks turned a deep red, and he began fussing with his reins unnecessarily.

“Ah,” Aran replied, understanding. “You mean intimately?” Noah’s lack of answer was enough to confirm.

“You worry about the strangest things, my love,” Elaina said kindly. “It’s very sweet, actually.” Her voice became smoky. “There is plenty of me to go around, just so you’re aware.”

Despite his inner conflict, Noah chuckled. “I suppose that’s true, my love. You are as much a warrior in private as you are on the battlefield.”

This was the most openly Aran had heard the man speak before. “Hear, hear!” he chimed, agreeing with Noah. “It takes at least two men to slake the mighty thirst of Elaina Fairborn, the Hero of Vesovar!”

Noah laughed, and Elaina muttered something wry under her breath, no doubt directed at Aran. Up ahead, Smythe turned in his saddle and shot Aran a quizzical look before turning his attention back to Amina on his right.

Elaina eyed both Aran and Noah in turn, a mischievous light in her emerald gaze. “Have your fun, boys. We’ll see who’s still laughing when I’m done with you both tonight.” She nudged Willow’s ribs with her heels and rode up beside Amina, leaving the men alone.

“Looks like we’re in trouble,” Aran observed, moving Strider closer to Noah’s grey.

“It certainly seems so,” Noah said. He seemed much more comfortable now.

“I wonder what she’s got in store for us,” Aran mused, letting the question hang in the air.

“I don’t know, but it may be fun finding out,” the hunter replied. “I must thank you, Aran,” he added after a moment. “This life is taking some adjustments on my part, but you have made today much easier for me.”

Aran nodded, accepting his thanks. “We are two men who love the same woman. Such things are supposed to be impossible, are they not?”

“That is what I used to believe,” Noah replied.

“And now?”

Noah fixed his gaze on Elaina’s back, up ahead. “I would still love her even if there were ten men, instead of just two of us. Well three, I suppose, including Smythe.”

Aran knew the feeling. “Let us hope it does not come to that, ey?” he said with a grin.

Noah chuckled. “Indeed.”

An hour later, the party drew rein as Smythe raised a fist, calling a halt at the crest of a tall rise in the plain. Aran’s jaw fell open at the sight before him. A quarter mile down the slope, Senna was... gone. In its place was a gaping hole maybe three hundred yards across, roughly circular in shape, the irregular edges cutting through the fields of wheat and corn and barley surrounding the now vanished village. It was as if the earth itself had opened up and swallowed Senna.

“Fire and fury,” Aran breathed. All those people ... Had they been in the village when it happened? Aros send they had evacuated into Maralon at the news of the recent darkspawn attacks. He opened his vala to get a better sense of the massive crater, and he felt the others do the same. Of the four arohim, only Aran and Amina were strong enough to reach distant Maralon, though they were careful not to go that far.

“It’s a bloody tunnel, ” Smythe exclaimed, incredulity thick in his gravel voice. Thunder shifted beneath him, sensing his rider’s agitation. Beyond the hole, the towers and spires of Maralon were just visible in the distance, behind the high stone wall surrounding the city.

“I cannot sense the depths of it,” Amina said, echoing Aran’s thoughts. A tunnel it was indeed, reaching into the earth to unknown limits. Aran wished he could use his power more fully, but it would turn Maralon into a kicked hornet’s nest of angry Heralds. The arohim shouldn’t even be this close to the city, but it was the fastest route.

Noah grunted suddenly and rode off to the right, down that side of the hill, while the arohim were still surveying the hole.

“What could do this?” Elaina asked. “No darkspawn I’ve ever seen. An army of Trolls couldn’t do this in a whole year!”

“Not darkspawn,” Aran said grimly. “Vasuda.” Smythe muttered an oath.

“Yes,” Amina added darkly. “It must be him.”

“If he can do this-” Elaina flung a hand toward the gaping maw in the earth, “-then why has he not swallowed our entire army? We would be kittens - fleas! - in the face of this!”

Aran met her emerald gaze and swung his head slowly. “I do not think feats of such magnitude are easy for the Titans, else they would simply run wild if they wished. If Rava were all-powerful, would she not send storms every day - every hour - until we were beaten?” His ancient memories offered him some theories that had never been proven, but were likely true. “I think he was saving his strength for this tunnel, whatever its purpose, and now he will need time to recover.”

“I bloody hope so,” Smythe growled. “Last thing we need while we’re hunting one flaming Titan is for another to pop up beneath us and yell ‘Boo!’”

“Flaming Titan,” Elaina echoed with a smirk. “I see what you did there, Henley. Very clever.” Despite her light tone, her heart was not in it.

Smythe shared a look with her. “Glad you can find humour, lass.” His eyes wandered back to the hole. “Not sure I can, in this moment.”

Elaina touched his shoulder. “It’s that, or lie down and weep, my friend.” Aran could sense her sadness for the village - and no small amount of fear - but to look at her, you would think she was just a woman about some ordinary business, like weeding a garden or mending a fence.

One by one, the arohim withdrew their vala. “So what now?” Elaina asked. “This tunnel could run all the way to the Northguard, for all we know. Do we follow it?”

Aran shook his head. “No. We stay aimed at the Blackglass Springs. Agni takes precedence, even before this.” Without waiting for the others, he heeled Strider down the slope, heading for the tunnel, but a whistle from Noah brought his head around. The hunter was a hundred yards away, crouched down and inspecting the ground.

“What is it?” Aran asked, dismounting when he reached the man. Noah was scanning the trampled grass here, lightly brushing it with his fingers in places, his grey eyes intent.

“Darkspawn,” Noah replied, rising smoothly from his crouch. He fingered the knife at his belt as he turned a slow circle, gaze roaming the landscape. “Droves of them came through here, not two days ago.”

“Yes,” Amina said as she drew reign not far away, Smythe and Elaina just behind her. “So taken was I with the tunnel, I did not sense the evidence of their passing. Well done, hunter.”

Something out of place caught Aran’s attention. Between his feet was a hard, solid object, but not a rock. Bending, he fished it from where it was buried in a tuft of grass. It was a round metal badge, engraved with a symbol he didn’t recognise, though something about it tugged at his memory.

Smythe’s sharp eyes caught it quickly enough. “Goblin tribe,” he said. “Can’t tell which one from here.” Aran flicked the badge to him and he snagged it out of the air. “Cazadi.” Grimacing, he flicked it away. “Nasty buggers. Even for Goblins.”

“Yes,” Noah agreed, finishing his slow turn. “Perhaps the worst of them.”

Aran met the eyes of everyone in turn before speaking. “Wherever they are going, it is going to be bad, but we cannot deviate from our goal.” Visions of towns and villages razed from here to the Wild Sea flashed in his mind, but he banished them forcefully. Even if he did change the plan now, there was little even he and his friends could do against such a force. Still... “Noah,” he began, “there is something I must ask of you.”

When Aran had finished the request, Noah looked to Elaina and sighed. He opened his mouth, but Elaina shook her head, smiling. “I know,” was all she said. “I know.” They shared a long look, then Noah bowed. “I will return with haste, once I have seen it done.”

“Thank you, Noah.” Aran clapped him on the shoulder. “One of us could have done it much faster, but we must remain together in case the situation grows worse.” Elaina’s sadness was a spike in Aran’s heart, but he saw no other way. Besides, sending Noah back to the army to report ahead kept him safer than he would be chasing down a Titan. It’s not your choice to make, a soft voice said in his head. A man should be able to choose where he fights, and when, and for whom.

Aran brushed the voice aside before it made him change his mind. Noah nodded, though Aran could tell the order did not sit well with him. He had promised to follow orders, however, and so he would. The arohim watched him mount his grey and ride away, reaching a gallop in three strides. The leggy gelding was quick, and would cover long miles before sunset.

Silence settled over the group when Noah disappeared over a ridge, clods of grassy earth flinging upward in his wake.

“Thank you,” Elaina said softly after a minute. “I ... Thank you.”

“I’m sorry,” Aran replied, meeting her sad gaze. “I just couldn’t. Not with this in front of us.” He gestured at the rim of the crater. “This changes everything.”

“He will come back, you know,” Smythe remarked, staring after the hunter. “He’ll ride that horse to death if he has to. And as many more as it takes.”

Elaina smiled with pride. “I have no doubt he would, Henley.”

Aran hoped he had not just made a grave mistake. I’m sorry, Noah, but you are not equipped to fight this battle. Wheeling Strider around, he heeled the stallion in the ribs, resuming the journey northwest. The others fell in behind him.

The following few days were thankfully quiet as the four arohim crossed the land, leaving the waving grasses of the Sorral Plain and entering the tougher, rockier landscapes beyond, just north of the Karvani Mountains, where the Temple was hidden. All eyes floated to those mountains regularly as they rode by, all hearts wishing they could be back there, all together again. There were no darkspawn roaming these parts, and no more signs of Vasuda or Rava. In fact, the land felt almost ... peaceful. It was an illusion, Aran knew, but still it was better than the chaos that would surely break out any day now.

It was a pleasure to be back with his friends again, despite the solemnity of their purpose. Just the four of them, riding across the land, staying to the wilds, keeping clear of towns and villages. Many of those they did pass within eyeshot were abandoned, or close to it. The darkspawn raids had pushed people into the bigger towns in search of sanctuary.

On the third night, after camp had been made in a small earthy hollow by a narrow stream, Aran finally asked Amina about the second sword she carried; a near twin of her own slightly curved blade. Smythe, Aran and the Priestess were sitting on their saddles around a small fire in the centre of the hollow. Elaina was down at the stream, bathing, her pale form barely visible from where Aran sat, like a beautiful, ghostly apparition.

Smythe’s eyes flicked up from the big pot of stew he was stirring when he heard Aran’s question. Apparently he had been thinking about the blade, too. And from his eyes, he had as little notion as Aran as to its meaning.

Amina took a moment to respond, her face unreadable in the glow of the fire, her sapphire eyes glimmering as they reflected the dancing flames. “I suppose this matter was not going to remain undisclosed forever,” she began, sounding almost weary. Rising, she walked a short distance to her saddlebags and picked up the sheathed sword from among her belongings.

Elaina wandered back from the stream at the same time, her clothes hanging over one arm, her bare skin still glistening wetly. She opened her mouth to say something, but when she saw Amina coming back to the fire with the weapon, she closed it.

“This,” Amina said without preamble, “is not my sword, though I was present at her forging.” She held the blade before her in one hand, parallel with the ground, and then smoothly drew it. Vala-forged steel glittered in the firelight. “She is called Eternal, and she was made by Palavus Ironrod, a very long time ago.”

Aran’s eyebrows rose, and Elaina’s mouth fell open.

“Well strike me down,” Smythe breathed, his face etched with wonder. A weaponsmith by trade - well, one of the trades he’d adopted over his life - his eyes were burning with interest. The big Paladin stood up, eager to get a better look. “This blade is ... exquisite,” he said as he stepped closer. Aran could sense Smythe’s vala probing the steel, exploring its depths.

“Yes,” Amina said, sounding a little sad.

“You say you were there when it was made?” Elaina enquired gently, sensing the Priestess’ mood.

“I was.”

“I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” Smythe murmured, half lost in his study. He was bent so close to the steel now that his nose was almost touching it.

“Have you not had a good look at my own blade?” Amina asked him, surprised.

Smythe shook his head as he brushed a finger down the flat of the blade, feeling the subtle contours of the folded metal. “I have not. It did not feel right, Priestess. Not without your permission. I suppose the right time to ask never came up.”

She graced him with a smile. “It would not have offended me, Henley, but thank you. If you do inspect her, you will find she is of the same design, but a perfect counterbalance to this one. An equal and opposite, if you will. Both blades forged together.”

“Marvellous,” Smythe replied, his eyes never leaving the weapon. “What are it’s properties?”

“Like most vala-forged weapons,” Amina began, “this blade will never rust, never grow dull. But she is unique in that she will cut anything in her path. Stone, metal, even diamond.”

Aran blinked as something clicked into place in his mind. “He was your amatharn, wasn’t he.”

“Yes,” Amina answered softly, her word barely more than a whisper.

Smythe straightened, seeming unsure what to say. Elaina just stared at the Priestess, her pretty face a picture of empathy. She knew what it was like to lose a meldin, and though she hadn’t lost Aran, she could no doubt imagine the pain of losing an amatharn. It must have taken years for Amina to heal.

A moment of silence settled over the camp, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the hooting of a distant owl. “You carry his blade to remember him?” Elaina asked carefully.

Amina nodded. “Yes. And also because...” She paused for a moment, as if deciding what to say. “He will need it back.”

Aran, Smythe and Elaina shared a brief, confused look, but realisation dawned on all faces quickly. “He is alive?!” Smythe blurted. “How? Where?”

“Fire and fury,” Elaina muttered, dropping her bundle of clothes and running her hands over her head, through her still-wet hair.

Aran stood up. “How long have you known?”

“A month, perhaps two,” Amina said, carefully sliding the blade back into its sheath. “Erik and Sylvia came across him in Suravale. Erik came to me with the news soon after.”

“How did he survive the car’mori?” Elaina’s question was an echo of the one in Aran’s mind.

“I am unsure,” the Priestess replied, her face firming. “But I intend to find out.”

Aran was convinced Palavus must have somehow cut himself off from the vala - perhaps from Aros entirely - but why? Why abandon the Order, and Amina? Surely death was a better option than roaming the world for a thousand years in solitude.

With a sigh, Amina lowered the sword to her side. “I will take a walk, and keep eyes on the camp for a while. Eat and rest, my children, while you can.” She strode away smoothly, her cloak whispering across the ground behind her. She kept the sword in her hand, taking it with her as she vanished into the night.

“Bloody unbelievable,” Smythe said, looking between Aran and Elaina before crouching and stirring the stew again. He seemed to want to do something to keep his hands busy.

“Poor Amina,” Elaina said, exhaling heavily and plopping down on her saddle next to Aran, not bothering to pick up her clothes. “To go through all that grief, only to find out centuries later that he is still alive? It would be like grieving all over again, or learning that your pain was meaningless.”

“Aye,” Smythe grunted in agreement. “Flaming brutal.”

Aran watched after Amina, wondering. A vague vala-memory floated into his mind, from a Paladin who had spent some time around Amina and Palavus. They had been revered as the most powerful arohim in history, and to be paired together as amatharn, the feats they accomplished were wondrous. To have all that taken away from her must have been hard for Amina indeed.