The Blinding

Chapter 39 - Samakaab

For a fleeting moment, I was certain she had perished. She lay limp in my arms, her skin radiating then fading, but minutes later, she stirred. Rising from my grasp, she appeared untouched by the injuries she had suffered mere moments ago, her radiance rivaling that of the sun itself. I nearly prostrated myself before her, for only a deity could emit such brilliance. However, my thoughts were abruptly interrupted as the memories of a prophecy came surging back, diverting my attention from the blinding intensity of her luminous skin.
"With the first bloom of the great tree, the cobra will be found, the great war will begin, and the spear will be broken."
She was the cobra, and the great war had descended upon us. I blinked, once and then again, the realization flooding over me, rendering me speechless. A woman... I had never fathomed it. Yet, this oversight was a product of our society's patriarchal bias. A trivial mistake, but inconsequential now. Tissa, the girl I had met only weeks ago, stood before me as the sole hope of the Magician tribe. Did she comprehend? I wondered. But how could she? She had only recently discovered the truth about her lineage.
"It is you," I murmured, the words more for my own ears than for hers. "What do you mean?" she replied absently, her astonishment eclipsing my own. Her gaze wandered over her body, bewildered and uncertain. She ventured a cautious step, as if fearing she might spontaneously combust with the slightest movement. It was then that I remembered the others. Gadiid wore an expression of shock, mirroring my own, his hand covering his mouth, his eyes reflecting the radiance of her light. The infants stood awestruck, each clutching the hand of one of the two women. Beydan and Idil stood, their tears dried but still staining their cheeks, their mouths agape. While Beydan's eyes held a mixture of surprise and grief, Idil's contained a glimmer of hope.
"What is happening to me?" Tissa whispered, her sparkling fingers tracing her equally radiant arms.
"It is you," I repeated. "You are the Blinding."
"The what?" Tissa responded, only now emerging from the stupor that was her own body.
"The Blinding," Idil interjected. "The highest level of Mage, unseen for centuries." She approached Tissa tentatively, extending her arm with trembling hands, before finally making contact with Tissa's skin. "My dear girl, a Blinding has been a mere legend. No Mage in Sarapion, or beyond, has been born a Blinding since the era of the giants." "How can this be?" she asked fearfully. "I am not — I am just..." Her words trailed off, her pupils darting around as if seeking escape from the magic coursing through her veins. In that moment, I pitied her. She could not begin to grasp the enormity of such a revelation or the intricacies of the future she was now destined for. As the weight of the situation bore down on her, she began to hyperventilate. I moved closer, hoping to offer some semblance of comfort, but Gadiid reached her first.

He cautiously draped an arm over her shoulders, seemingly wary of her powers resurfacing. "Tissa, don't distress yourself about this at the moment. We'll proceed to Miandi as planned, but we have other matters to attend to," his words carried a sagacious tone as he gestured towards Beydan, her legs still stained with blood. Tissa's countenance fell as she realized the source of her earlier fury.
"Beydan, I have no words, I am so sorry. The baby — Anab." Beydan somberly shook her head, and as Tissa embraced her, sobs wracked her body. All three women wept for the brief life that had been snatched away. Gadiid and I remained stoic, although I observed him discreetly brushing a tear from his eye.
I cleared my throat, dispelling the emotions that had lodged there. "We'll give her a proper burial," I said cautiously, not wanting to overshadow the moment. Beydan pulled away from the embrace and nodded tearfully.
With the limited water we had, Gadiid and I began the task of bathing the lifeless infant. In her tiny face, I saw the representation of everything we had lost as a people, and my frustration crystallized into a renewed determination. This would be the last child claimed by the shifters and the spineless Seers who enabled them, I vowed.
Tissa insisted on digging the grave alone, using her bare hands to claw at the earth. I watched her, wondering if her emotions fueled her actions. Her expression remained resolute, focused solely on the task at hand. Occasionally, she would pause, gaze at her soil-covered fingers, and shake off unwelcome thoughts before resuming her labor. When she finished, her clothes and radiant skin were streaked with dust, and the grave was deep enough to conceal half her body.
We formed a circle as Beydan struggled to lower her child into the grave. Idil assisted her, and despite their confusion, the children cried silently. They whispered words to the small body, words that might never be heard but were spoken nonetheless, as if their voices would carry them to whatever lay beyond this life.
Tissa murmured something too softly for us to hear, but the blend of her anger and despair created a palpable resonance that we all felt. Her words were potent, of that we were certain.
To her credit, Beydan's physical and emotional agony did not overwhelm her. She declared that it was time to resume our journey once the brief memorial concluded. With Gadiid and Tissa's help, she and the children were soon back on the camel. We used any extra robes we had to conceal Tissa, leaving only her eyes and fingertips exposed beneath the cloth. Her appearance was now both a vulnerability and an asset that needed safeguarding. While only one shifter had escaped the full brunt of her power, we were still at risk. He would undoubtedly be hastening to deliver the news to the palace, and Beydan, despite her anguish, comprehended that fact.
This time, there were no words, no laughter, no demonstrations of magic from Idil's hands; only silence enveloped us as each grappled with their emotions, contemplating the future not just for ourselves but for our tribe, our families, and our nation.