When my skin is not my own and the heart is tainted, there is still one thing that will always belong to me. My soul! No more shall it weep in the darkest of nights but it shall become a beacon of light for all those who cannot see. I am a warrior...
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"I didn’t even know we were this close to the ocean," Lalzari murmured, her voice quiet with awe. The water stretched out before them, a vast, trembling mirror that cradled the land in a soft, gentle embrace. The three sat on a rooftop above the village, the fading sun casting long shadows behind them as it kissed the horizon, its descent slow and mournful. The sun hung low, a fiery disk bleeding into the sky, casting the heavens in a deep crimson that reflected off the water in shivering streaks of light. It was as if the ocean carried secrets within its depths, stories untold, journeys abandoned to time, all whispered in the language of the waves. The meek roll of the sea flickered with the dying light, and the sky, brushed with faint clouds, burned in hues of terracotta, like clay glowing in a kiln. "The way the light bends over the water... how the clouds thin just enough to let the sun peek through… everything is so red, so alive... Did He... did He really create all of this?" Lalzari's voice was barely more than a breath, as if the scene before her had swallowed her whole. She gazed, lost in the haunting beauty of it, her mind far away from the present, where endless missions and duties had kept her too distracted to truly see the world around her.
"Who created all this?" Ahmali’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as she turned her wide, curious eyes to her snow guardian. Lalzari had been so deep in her reverie that the girl’s voice startled her. She blinked, coming back to herself, but when her eyes landed on Ahmali, she paused—something about the child seemed different.
Ahmali had covered every inch of herself. Her dress, long and flowing, with puffed sleeves like Lalzari's, draped over her small form. A shawl was loosely wrapped over her head, her face half-hidden beneath the folds, though her little bare boots peeked out beneath her dress like mischievous creatures. It was an imitation of Lalzari’s own attire, and the sight made her smile—a rare, soft thing in this quiet twilight.
"You look beautiful, Ahmali," Lalzari said, her voice tinged with genuine warmth. The compliment made the girl’s face light up as she tugged her shawl tighter, tucking her stray strand deeper into the fabric.
"I feel stronger like this," Ahmali replied, kicking her legs into the air with the carefree abandon of a child who, for the moment, believed she could conquer the world. In Lalzari’s eyes, she already had.
"Hmph, makes me almost want to join your little club," Rehamal joked, nudging Ahmali gently. The three of them shared a smile, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, it was as if time itself had paused to savor the fragile joy of the moment.
Lalzari let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. "Thank you for waiting for me... I—I was feeling so much, too much..." She trailed off, staring down at the shore where the waves crept forward, only to be pulled back by the whispering winds. The warrior was not used to speaking her heart, and yet, in that suspended dusk, vulnerability slipped through. Maybe she longed for comfort. Maybe she just needed to feel less alone in the world. Whatever it was, her words felt heavy, laden with the weight of isolation she had carried for far too long.
