Amara

“Come, child,” the Elder told her. “It is time for you to shape destiny.”

She stepped down from her beetle-mount and took the withered old paw offered to her.

She sniffed the air, smelling the pungent mix of the dusty desert mixed with the sweat of the Gnolls as they bowed before her, clearing a path towards the walls that surrounded the Golden Palace.

She looked up at those glittering domes with hatred that she knew she was right to feel.

But something wasn’t right.

Where were the defenders?

They’d touched down around twenty meters from the wall’s perimeter, and she saw how they were far more solid, stable, and secure than those of the Gnoll’s stronghold.

The army had gathered together, looking from the walls to her and the other surfacers – Marius and Yelena – who stood together in the vanguard, waiting.

Waiting, for her.

“They have dreamed of this moment for…eons,” the Elder whispered as they walked through the crowd, hearing nothing but the dry air of the sands pick up around them. “This time. This place. It is an hour where destiny shall be made.”

Once they’d reached the front of the crowd Amara scanned the wall’s marble battlements and towers – her Appraisal skill telling her nothing about their makeup. Clearly, the glittering material had come from above. Like all that corrupted this place.

Like her…

She caught Yelena’s serious eyes as she stood amidst the others. Amara was fine with that. She wouldn’t expect the Argent to bow. And the thief? She expected less than nothing from him.

But there was more than just defiance in the girl’s eyes. It was as though the same thoughts of doubt swirled in her mind at this moment.

We can only be what we are supposed to be…

The Gnoll Elder raised her bangled arms up and spread the digits of her frayed fingers. She breathed in and exhaled a gust of pure power – and Amara felt it settle in her lungs. It was the kind of power only Pyromancers knew.

“Children of the Sands!” The Elder called through her veil. “We stand here, before the towers of our enemy, with the Lightbringer beside us!”

The crowd bowed their heads in reverence, starting up a solemn chant. Like a prayer.

I told you, mother said within her mind, almost giddy with excitement. You are a Goddess to them.

Amara was almost surprised to her the voice. She had thought that, once again, the Elder may have suppressed it within her. But she sought solace in her mother’s words.

Mom, she thought, grasping at her chest. Stay with me.

Till the end, Amara, she replied. I will be with you till you set the world aflame. This is only the beginning.

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“This is the Day of the Gnoll!” the Elder railed, her voice spearing through the winds. “You among us are here to witness the triumph of our race over the Cha’lokk who rape our world! You have come, bearing your righteous armaments, blessed by your conviction. Your faith – that is the weapon by which you shall cut the chains of your brethren forever more, and cast their rusted links into the dust of the Sands!”

The chant rose to a whooping, punctuated by feral, vicious roars. She spotted Mendax amongst them, bloodying his paws on his axeblade in sheer anticipation.

They were ready for war – all of them. They knelt before her and the Elder as conquerors. Their anger was righteous. And she felt it grant her strength. She felt their desire to kill fan the flame within her heart.

Once, that same hate had burned inside her own breast. But it had been hers, and hers alone. Now, with the burden of their fire thrust upon her, she felt heavy. Weighed.

Is this what you want? She asked them through pleading eyes. Is…is this really what you-

“Let the cries of the Blackbird’s myrmidons pierce the skies!” the Elder roared. “Let their screams of anguish fly to the surface, so all who dwell above us know they can never take our home! We – we whom they call Everloftians – history shall know us as conquerors!”

And there – that’s what it was all about, wasn’t it? This wasn’t just a holy war for righteous vengeance against the Argents who had kicked them out of their home. This was a message. It was a warning to anyone who tried to delve down here again.

Good, Mother said from the back of her mind. Let no one else try to claim your power.

“Come, Amara,” the Elder said. “It is time to throw open the Door.”

She looked up to see the sagging, tired eyes of the Elder. She could feel the power surging within the old Gnoll’s body – gathering at the tip of her paws, pooling as her arms began to shake.

“Don’t spend yourself,” Amara said with a shudder.

The old Gnoll smiled. “For my people,” she said. “There is nothing I would not do. You must know this, Lightbringer – if I am endangered, you must not save me. If my hand falters, you must not reach for it.”

She said it with the conviction of one who had already accepted her death.

So be it, Mother said. Let this creature g-

Amara grabbed her hand and squeezed it tight.

“No more,” she said. “No more die because of me.”

The old Gnoll’s smile grew.

“Good,” she said. “You have found a direction for your fire. It is time.”

Both of them then turned to the wall and closed their eyes, feeling the unrestrained strength of the other move through them like a wave of trapped energy wishing for release.

The sun dropped beneath the highest dome’s tip as the chants of the Gnoll army grew, and the winds of the sands added its cry to theirs.

Amara felt them. She felt their paws sink into the warm sands, felt every sun-blasted grain crawl up her own feet and seep into her being as the blazing, searing strength of two burning, beating hearts snaked through her veins.

“Channel,” the Elder said.

She did so. She focused, and flicked:

GLANCE Channel: Fireball

And when she opened her eyes she saw the blazing sphere of growing carmine that was billowing between her and the Elder’s hands.

Slowly, both Pyromancer’s brought their arms together.

Yes, Amara…mother stammered. I have not felt such power in…eons…

The chants of the army behind grew into frantic, bloodthirsty screams.

“Are you…ready?” the Elder asked.

Amara stiffened, peered into the flames, and saw her own sweating reflection staring back at her.

“I’ve been ready since I was born.”

She felt the Elder’s hand relax, prompting her to relinquish her grip. To toss their rampaging flame out into the world.

“Then let it fly,” The Elder said, as every muscle in their shared union began to contract out of proportion. “And let a new day…dawn!”

At the final word the chants of the Gnolls reached its apex, and they stared into the dazzling sun that leaped from Amara’s fingertips and plunged itself into the wall, tearing through stonework and marble and pummeling the ramshackle houses on the other side. The sides of the battlements melted away, sinking beneath the sandy dune they had been built upon. Amara watched the wall give way, and then the entire structure crumbled to dust.

Her arms shook, and the Elder fell beside her, steadying herself on her shoulder as though all life had suddenly departed her body with the release of the superheated energy.

If the Gnoll army saw her pain, they did not acknowledge it.

“Forward!” Mendax bellowed from behind her. “For the free Sands!”

Then, through suffocating dust and the shrill cries of war, the running began.