Ni’rikun felt calm for the first time in ages, the greatest part of her centered as the djinn whirled like smoke across the desert sands. Whispers and promises tickled her ears while the threads of their souls lashed at her skin like angry snakes, whipping open wounds inside her until they began to fester and ooze with power the likes of which she’d only heard in the Speaker’s fireside tales on long summer nights before the rains came, before their parents were killed and her sister went blind with sorrow.
E’ku learned to see again through the eyes of the birds, a magic Ni’rikun silently envied. Vacha told her such power was not for her, that when the time was right the gods would show her the way.
Ni’rikun was tired of waiting for the gods. She would find her own power, carve her own path, and she would make such vengeance the Speakers would tell of her deeds by fireside on long summer nights for a thousand years.