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When Gosetsu and Yugiri first led them to the Azim Steppe, the view stole Khulan’s breath away. It was one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever seen, and it also tugged on her heart in a way no other sight she’d seen since stepping off the boat in Limsa Lominsa had done. It hurt in the best way possible, and as they approached Reunion, she realized it felt like home . Sure, her tribe lived on an entirely different continent, and they were semi-nomadic, tending to cycle between the same rough locations when they moved on the vernal and autumnal equinoxes, but the Steppe felt achingly familiar to their spring and summer lands. Plenty of the customs were slightly different, but most of the food was almost exactly the same, right down to the gentle froth of dzo milk, fresh from the udder. Even these Qestiri held the same customs as the tribe bearing the same name that she'd grown up knowing, so communicating by her actions came back to her quickly.
And then, there was the fighting. Squabbles between tribes to determine who was stronger, posturing between single members who ran into each other while hunting or at the marketplace, some tribes looking down on others just because they might not be as strong. If Lyse ever wondered why she almost punched the snob who had taken offense at being asked if she was Mol, it was because of how her own had been treated by a few others. The Malaguld tribe had usually been considered middling in the chain of command for the area. Not the weakest or the smallest clan, but also not the strongest or the largest. With almost a quarter of their numbers made up of Raen they had adopted in, they had lived in moderate comfort.
Khulan had lived for the thrill of the hunt, the adrenaline rush of combat, since she was first trained to hold a weapon properly, and dreamed of becoming a powerful warrior who could bring honor to her tribe. But it was not to be. She had passed the trials to become the fourteenth warrior of her tribe. She had proven herself a mighty hunter, one of the fiercest warriors her tribe had produced in years. Looking back, the Naadam had to be the original form of their Ghambol. The Ghambol was how they selected the tribe that "governed" the thirty some odd tribes in the region. Each one selected their five best, all were cast in a tournament where they fought in timed matches over the course of a week. But winning your match didn't necessarily mean you would move on. The gods had the final say through the shamans. The shamans were a tribe unto their own, nameless to prevent using their authority to favor or make false declarations in the name of one tribe or another.
She was twenty-nine and some odd months when she was selected to represent the Malaguld name in the Ghambol some years later. But before her first match, an old friend touched her shoulder to wish her luck and the Echo manifested for the first time. It was nothing major, just flashes of her friend arguing with the elder that she should have been one of the five, laying out her frustration to have been passed over to fill the role of a replacement.
When she came to, she was in the healer's hut. The cheers and jeers of the crowd were faint, though she ignored it when she heard the healer speaking with her parents.
"-unsure why she collapsed. No trace of poisons in her blood, no symptoms of illness, no sign of any sabotage. Your elder and the Eye of the Goddess have both interrogated the last person she was with thoroughly before allowing her to compete. Until we can determine the cause, it would be best that Khulan not be permitted to fight, lest any harm come to her. She is fortunate she was not alone, nor actively fighting."
"But… fighting is her whole life. She loves the hunt, we--"
"But if she values her life as much as her spear, she must find some other task to occupy her time until we know what ails her and how to cure her."
Khulan's heart sank as she let her eyes close again. It wasn't her fault she had some bizarre dream. A vision? Magic had never been her thing, but how else could explain what she saw? And now her dream to compete in the Ghambol would never come to pass. She considered rolling over and trying to sleep to forget about her shame when an unfamiliar voice came from the hut entrance.
"I crave a word with the Malaguld warrior in your care."
"My patient rests, my lady. Pray, return when she awakens."
"I am afraid this cannot wait, for the will of the Goddess commands me here, and her eye sees all that I should be here now and not later. I am certain it will not be long before she sees fit to rise and summon me."
Indeed, the hints that the Eye of the Goddess, the one shaman said to be as one with the Elder Mother Goddess and her will, was here for her… well, it was enough to get her to crack her eyes open and turn her head.
"It is fine, I am awake."
The older woman bustled over, ignoring any further protests. She knelt at her bedside, allowing her to keep her voice low enough for only Khulan to hear.
"My child, this land is not your destiny. Your friend meant no malice and was not the reason for what happened, for none but the Elder Mother knows of your dangerous gift. Even I do not comprehend that which she spake unto me, and to try and explain would do naught to help you understand. Pray, child, for there are many trials yet for you to face, but they shall be more rewarding than anything you would know here. Before the next full moon, you must cross the sea where Eorzea calls your name. The Elder Mother bade me tell you to make for a gleaming alabaster city on the sea and seek those that would teach you the way of the Gate first. There you will find much and more that you have sought, and have not thought to seek. It will take time, it will not be easy, but you will know victory and defeat, love and hate, frustration and satisfaction, power and helplessness, and more besides by the time you reach your journey's end. Go in the light, but fear not the dark, for Nhaama herself watches over you."
Khulan watched her rise and swiftly depart, completely at a loss for words. To receive such a message from the Elder Mother… she wasn't sure what to make of it. But if she was getting clear instructions to leave, then that was what she had to do. She had to leave in less than six or seven days, which would give her time to say her goodbyes, turn in her warrior gear, and prepare to start a new life. All at the whim of their goddess. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
The second day of the Ghambol, she was clear to leave, but instead of going to join the crowds, she stayed with her family to tell them some of what the Eye had told her, and asked if they would see her off at the port. As one of her elder sisters was still competing, she would be unable to make the trek, some of them had to stay and offer support, but the other and her father agreed to be with her so she wouldn’t be alone until she boarded. For that, she was grateful to have such a loving family.
She took nothing with her but the clothes on her back. It would be easier, she reasoned, not to attract any undue attention from strangers on a ship sailing long distances across the sea. Her first goodbye to her mother, younger brother, and older sister was tearful, her second goodbye to her father and eldest sister at the shipyard left a burning ache in her heart. Though the moment she heard the anchor come up and the wind catch the sails with a sharp snap, she felt something inside her let go. Her fears blew away on the salt-soaked breeze, and as her family disappeared from sight, she found herself anticipating her new life and adventure. And it would all start in Limsa Lominsa.