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Everything was wrong—more wrong even than being ripped from her own world. Seela had some few days with Ardbert where things felt, not normal perhaps, but certainly more secure. That was how Ardbert had always made her feel—secure in her body and heart. Like as long as they were together, she could let down her guard.
Not all the way, but what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Maybe.
She waited a full day for Ardbert, the Warriors of Darkness, or the Scions to return. She raged at the Light, at Hydaelyn, at this land's Twelve, but only silence answered back over the sound of the blowing sand. She had served the Light faithfully her whole life, felt its gentle call that led her to a life of service as a healer, and welcomed its warmth when the rest of the world felt cold and uncaring. Now? Now there was nothing but a vast emptiness. Now she had nothing, no Ardbert, no Light, no Scions, no direction, and no way back home.
If I am to be cast off into the uncaring hands of fate, so be it, she thought as she rose from the sand. Her staff, a treasured gift from the Crown's healers, was left behind as she walked off, uncaring of which direction her feet took her.
It wasn't long before she was found by a group of Amalj'aa hunters. Seela stood tall in the face of their bellowing about territory and trespassing, unflinching in the face of their spears and bows.
"Either attempt to kill me or let me go on my way; it matters not to me. But know that I am not so helpless as I seem." She raised a clenched fist, unfocused aether sparking around her hand.
The hunters looked at each other incredulously; this tiny creature who dared defy their might was surely sun-mad and water-weak – hardly sport enough for ones blessed by Ifrit Himself.
"Take her and be done with it," one of them said dismissively.
Seela crouched into a defensive stance to the chuckles of her foes. Then, before they could make any moves, she launched herself forward to slap an open palm on the calf of the one closest to her. She rolled away while her summoned whirlwind flipped the hunter over completely and spun him in midair like a top, angry air currents ripping his flesh and sending blood in all directions. He dropped in a heap to the desert floor, unmoving.
The other hunters roared.
Seela kept moving, pausing only long enough to conjure stones to hurl at the four remaining Amalj'aa, keeping them back far enough that their heavy spears were useless. One had drawn his bow, and she sent a particularly large boulder at his head, felling him.
It was enough time for one of the other hunters to approach her flank and strike at her with the butt of his spear. She danced away, but not fast enough to avoid being clipped in the shoulder. She felt pain, but was far too focused on her next move for it to register. A blast of wind-aspected aether knocked her assailant to his back, and as the remaining two hunters rushed her from her other side, she finished him with a torrent of stones within an unrelenting rush of wind.
She knew she was about to die.
The world was moving in slow motion. She thought of Ardbert, and hoped he was safe. Of Meteor and the Scions, and of their noble cause – surely they were out there somewhere. Of sweet Brithael, of his kindness and willingness to lend an ear without thinking her tale pure madness.
She thought of home. Her parents. Their little house in Voeburtenburg near the church. How comforting its spire was standing tall as it reached for the heavens. Hydaelyn, the Mother, the source of Light. Perhaps her salvation could still be bestowed upon her as she passed into the Aetherial Sea.
Something buzzed past her ear and struck one of the hunters who was about to strike with his spear, staggering him. A thick arrow protruded from his chest, and blood was already running down his skin. Suddenly, a volley of arrows peppered him and the last hunter from somewhere behind her. Seela whirled around to face who was either going to be her saviors or her new adversaries, fists raised defensively and magick sparking bright over her skin.
Five more Amalj'aa stepped out from behind a grouping of rocks, their bows already stowed safely on their backs. One stepped forward, undaunted by Seela's display of force.
"A Hyur with a heart of fire… or a head full of rocks. I wonder which you are?"
"I wonder if you are as a cat toying with its prey," she replied, the magick flaring brightly in her fists. Her shoulder was beginning to ache now. She sent healing magick through a hand that gripped it tightly, ready for her next challenge.
The Amalj'aa let out a low, rumbling chuckle. "I would not toy with one so fierce as to attempt battle with five Flamefang hunters barehanded. In fact," he looked back at his fellows, who nodded deferentially at him, "I would count such a one as a fellow warrior."
Seela dropped her hands slowly. "I am no warrior, I am a healer."
The Amalj'aa chuckled again. "Many of my clan have mastered both arts. One need not invalidate the other. I am Hamujj Gah of the Brotherhood of Ash. We have been watching. We know that you came to Paglth'an with many but left as one. We were content to leave you to your business."
"And now?" She asked, staring defiantly into his ash-decorated face.
"Now we would offer a fellow warrior succor. These lands are unforgiving and the nearest Hyuran settlement can be unwelcoming."
Seela wasn't certain she could trust these Amalj'aa any more than the ones they slew. She knew that at least one tribe were tempered fanatics to the primal Ifrit. If these were of like mind, they would make an offering of her.
But did it matter, truly? She was trusting fate, after all, even if that trust was rooted in cynicism. She nodded once to Hamujj, who beckoned the rest of his group to follow.
Their home was nestled against the cliffs that were within sight of the Hyuran settlement, which Seela recognized as Little Ala Mhigo. The Scions had stopped there to regroup before continuing to Paglth'an the day before. She knew exactly what Hamujj meant about it being unwelcoming; if it weren't for Thancred having a rapport with the Ul'dahn soldiers, they might well have been ejected from the premises by the Ala Mhigan refugees. But when Seela was led into the Brotherhood camp she was beginning to wonder if it really was any better than there.
Amalj'aa stopped what they were doing as Hamujj and Seela passed to stare at the newcomer, some with a silent snarl upon their lips and others with outright hostility in their eyes and posture. Strangely, a masked Miqo'te woman was among their number, and her hidden eyes followed Seela's every movement like she was prey. Hamujj stopped before a shallow cave carved into the rock with a raised seat within. "Brothers! Today the Hyur Seela showed great courage in the face of certain death."
Seela grimaced. He was right, but now that she was on the other side of the battle she wanted to believe that she had least had a fighting chance against the last two hunters.
"She has the soul of a warrior and the Brotherhood of Ash welcomes her into our camp. For today, she is one of us."
Grunts, growls, and guttural yells rose out of the camp as swords were banged against shields and spears were thumped on every metal surface. Seela watched the masked Miquo'te storm off, her tail held rigid and high. When the din died down, everyone went back to their business as if nothing had happened. Hamujj waved her into the cave and gestured for her to sit upon one of the cushions below his seat.
"I did not realize you were the leader here," she admitted as she accepted a full waterskin from him. "I know not your customs. I hope I have not offended in any way."
Hamujj looked at her curiously. "Not at all. I find it interesting you ask such a thing."
"It is only that I cannot trust my own senses at the moment," she said carefully. "It has been a rather trying couple of days."
Hamujj nodded sagely. "I know not what transpired, only that a large blow was struck. One large enough for you to forsake your past, am I correct?"
"How did you know?"
"The yelling, for one," he answered, with what might be called mirth shining in his eyes. "And you deliberately left your weapon. That is not a thing done lightly, warrior or not. It portends a reckoning within oneself, or with one's gods. Tell me, what is your plan? Where will you go?"
"I have no plan. My home is out of reach. My conviction is broken." Bitterness clouded her features. "Every day the Light grows farther and farther out of reach."
"Then perhaps it is time for you to be reborn. To rise from the ash anew."
Seela narrowed her eyes. "Would you have me tempered by the fires of Ifrit?"
He shook his head. "We are not so base. We have a ritual for those coming of age, or those who have passed a great trial. It is symbolic, yet intense. The choice is yours if you will commit your past to the flames."
To the flames. All that made what she was, devoured by fire. Would that allow her to move forward? Would the anchor weighing her heart down disappear into the dark abyss if she burned the rope that connected it to her?
"I will do it."
Hamujj rumbled a hum of approval. “There are preparations to be made. You will gather the materials needed, with an escort, naturally. In three days’ time you will undergo the rite.”
The next two days were spent in the desert gathering drake dung and a rare, fragrant wood for the fires; herbs for tea, flint for striking the flames, and game for a feast. When the third evening’s sun disappeared behind the hills, after everyone had their fill of fish and meat, Hamujj declared the ritual begun.
The rest of the evening went by in a jumble of blurry colors, broken motion, and blank periods. She remembered being asked to drink a bittersweet tea at the beginning, and its perfumed notes drew a thick blanket over her memories. She remembered drums and the deep, raspy singing of the warriors. She remembered throwing her white robe onto the fire. Her fingers were wrapped in black linen, her skin was painted with a mixture of ash and fat. Flame rose up around her and within her and she was cleansed, free to begin again unburdened, free to choose her new path, new name, new calling.
She woke on a soft pallet with the desert's scant morning dew upon her skin. She had slept through the cool night in the open air with nothing to cover her, and she felt fine. In fact, it felt as though flames were licking beneath her skin painlessly, for she was still one with the cleansing fire. She looked down and saw clothing upon her body that she didn't recognize – black and dark violet stark against her pale skin, black metal ornaments clinking together softly as she shifted.
Next to her, thrust into the ground, was a staff. It was the same black metal, all jagged spikes and protrusions, opposite in every way to the watery curves of her old staff. A large shadow covered her as Hamujj stepped between her and the rising sun. "A gift," he pulled the staff from the ground and handed it to her, "as are the clothes, Gentle Warrior Seela Chah."
"Is the Brotherhood wont to keep Hyur-sized garments around?" she asked lightly, a smile tugging at her lips. She was still feeling slightly loopy, and her thoughts wanted to flow freely from her mouth.
"Those were left to us by an old friend, one who asked that they be given to one who deserved them most."
"I'm flattered."
He grunted in response. "It is time you began your new life."
She stood, and gripped the staff. It was thinner than her old one, but practically hummed with energy. She pushed a small amount of aether into it and was pleased to find it not only receptive, but almost eager.
Hamujj nodded. "It suits you."
"What would you have me do first?"
Seela had been staying in the Ring of Ash for weeks, learning their ways, lending her skills, and coming to terms with a past that no longer served her. She often accompanied others on patrols that took her past Paglth’an, and though deep down she knew she wasn’t going to find Ardbert or anyone else there, she felt a strange sense of obligation to keep returning even if there was a sliver of possibility, until one day she declined the invitation. Hamujj Gah called her forth.
“You have finally moved on, I see.”
Seela looked at her feet. “I do not know if I have, Warleader. I still feel longing in my heart for Ardbert, the Scions, my home….”
Hamujj chuckled low. “It would be strange if you did not.”
Seela tilted her head at him. “But the ritual…?”
“Was a starting point. Not an erasure of everything that made you.”
“I feel unworthy.”
"Then go forth and find yourself. The ash will return you to us if the time is right."
“You would have me leave this place now? When I have no place left to go?”
“It was seen in a divination at sunrise. And even so, I believe you have much more to accomplish outside the Ring of Ash.”
If she did not need to leave her past behind, then there would be no shame in searching for Ardbert. Something inside told her he was out there somewhere, and she needed to find him, to be sure that he was safe even if he continued to walk his bloody path to saving the First. Surely it wouldn’t be so hard to catch wind of a group of primal killers, and if it wasn’t Ardbert’s group, then it would be the Scions.
"I do not know how to repay your kindness,” she said with a bow, “I am ever at your disposal."
"There is no need. Go forth into life with the same courage you showed against the Flamefangs and embrace your warrior heart."