The soft earth cushioned Aja's knees as she knelt before a fire, Sabati across from her.

"It's alright, Aja," she reassured, "You've done this hundreds of times."

Aja took a breath as her shaking hands perused the pieces of nature lined up before her: two halves of a hollowed horse bone, a handful of red clay, reeds from a swamp and wheat from a field. She picked her head up and looked around. To the left, her father's personal walled compound of large huts where she'd grown up. To the right, the rolling hills of Tilibulo, rippling currents of long, golden grass. "Yes," she finally said, "but I've never built a Tilik for long-distance travel."

Sabati giggled as she gathered a handful of dusty earth and let it cascade into the fire. Not enough to douse it, but it made the flames waver. "It is all earth, girl," she smiled warmly at Aja, who watched the soil mix with the embers, "A tilik is just how you show the world who you are. Pieces of nature joined to build a new creation, and its new voice releases and directs the Nyama within all things. If Nyama is in all things, it must be in all places, yes?"

Aja looked up from the gathered pieces. "I suppose, yes."

"Then wherever you are, you are never without it."

The light danced in Aja's deep brown eyes as the last of the dirt from Sabati’s hand turned to a hot ember. "That's it!" she declared softly. She reached towards the fire. Sabati lifted her head in alarm, but Aja remained steady as she lowered her right hand, still wrapped in rope cords from her father's dambe boxing training. She scooped up the ash and embers beneath the burning logs. Wincing only slightly as the hot flecks sprinkled off her fingers, she peppered her red clay with embers and ash, packed the clay into the hollowed bone, meticulously bound the wheat and swamp reeds with twine, tucked the binding snugly into the clay and tied the two halves of the bone together. She raised the bone up and with a final tug of the knots, she felt power surge through her hands, the newly forged Tilik alive with Nyama, released from the individual objects and weaving into something new.

She finally looked up from her Tilik at Sabati, tears trailing past her smile. Aja's own smile fell at the sight, but Sabati nodded reassuringly at her. "Well done, Aja," she managed.

"More than I could ever do," came a bass voice behind Sabati. Both women looked up as Donso stood a few paces back from the fire, arms folded and half smiling.

Aja giggled, wiping away a tear of her own, "Maybe not if you tried more."

Her father shook his head and approached, looking at his palms. "These hands," he trailed as he paced to Aja, "These hands break things. Your aunt was good enough to give you creation, I just protect you with destruction."

Sabati scoffed, "You can't protect with destruction, you oaf."

"Of course you can," Donso took Aja's hands and lifted her to her feet, "You just point it the other way. Then the whole world seems safe."

Aja smiled bittersweetly as she met her father's proud eyes, "You cannot protect me from everything," she reminded him.

"Clearly not," he said, resting a finger under her chin, "Especially not yourself." The three shared a laugh, then Donso laid his hands on Aja's shoulders. "Now then, no more tears," he sighed, "It is time for your voyage, State Animist."

The sadness in Aja cracked, the sound of her Century Chapter title lifting her up.

The walk to the port started strong with that renewed sense of promise, but Aja's feet tingled as she neared the end of the dock. Excitement spurred her forward, but nostalgia slowed her down. She hadn't considered the reality of leaving until now. It put a heavy chain around her heart, despite its rapid beat of anticipation.

The Magus waited at a gangplank, leading to a massive ship behind him, the make of which Aja had only ever seen from a distance on her father's balcony; being a general's daughter left no shortage of danger and suspicion, so she seldom got to see the port in person. That was one reason Aja thought this would be easier — it's not like she had many people to say goodbye to. But apparently, all the heartache of leaving a lifetime of friends and family compounded into just two people, the ones right behind her.

"General. Nyamakola," Brexton bowed to both Donso and Sabati before waving a hand and levitating Aja's luggage onto the ship.

"Your magic is a fine utility," Donso nodded, "I trust you'll conduct yourself with respect befitting such a gifted scholar."

"Nothing but, General."

"And if not," Sabati interjected, "the birds can tell me where to find you."

Brexton laughed sheepishly, "Perhaps I shall wait aboard," he managed, followed by another bow and then strode up the plank.

Aja turned to her father and aunt, eyes misty. "I--" she halted, voice catching in her throat. "I am not ready to be without you."

"We never are when the time comes," Sabati rested a hand on Aja's shoulder.

"That's how we know the time has come," her father added, wiping a tear from Aja's cheek.

Aja glanced between them, "I hope I can be brave and wise, as you both are."

"I know you will," her father flicked her cheek, "Because if you are not, I will have to invade N'Jarosyl and smack the sense back into you."

Sabati wrapped her arms around Aja's shoulders in a tight hug. Aja hugged back, then moved to her father, who slid his arms under hers and scooped her two feet off the ground in a hug so tight she felt her back crack.

He set her back down and raised a finger, "Stay out of trouble."

"Maybe a little trouble," Sabati added, winking at her.

Aja sniffled and laughed, "I will."

Her father raised a brow, "Which of us were you answering?"

Aja shrugged and started up the gangplank, the pain of leaving softened by the lingering warmth of her family. She took her first step onto the deck of the boat...and its Nyama spoke to her, like any other. It felt different, as if the timber had its own dialect or…well, timbre, but she still understood it. That reassuring sign let a smile spread across her face as she looked around the ship. She saw numerous crew members with complexions and hair like Brexton's all moving about the deck, and Brexton himself, hands clasped behind him waiting for her. She looked back at her father and aunt, and didn't look away until they were specks on the horizon.