Qamur is a force, greater than a spirit or phantom, older than the written passages of mankind. It transcends man. It is a rejection of change. It is an entity of stillness. And Lady Caiyha wishes to preserve it. For Qamur preserves itself in nature. It, in its own way, has defended the swamp from human putrefaction.
“Who are you, really?” the healer questioned blatantly. “You serve . . . a goddess?” The way the woman pronounced the name Caiyha - with a tremendous amount of reverence and respect - reminded Verena of herself. That amount of devotion was quite distinct. Even Verena, who was untrained in reading expressions, could very well understand just how serious and driven the woman was. She rarely met someone like so. Once again, she was reminded of Caedmon Paille and the glowing mark on the back of his neck.
The mud-covered woman continued on, leaving more questions echoing inside the healer’s head. “You and your precious Dynasties have tried to carve your legacy into the heart of the swamp and my Lady has been... tolerant of it. However, she will not allow Harameus and his playful machinations destroy such a force. And that is why this... Lessiya must die.” The fact that this woman knew Lessiya’s name was unnerving. Did they know each other? Or had this goddess – Caiyha – had truly been aware of what was transpiring so far?
“Die?” Verena asked, taking a hesitant step back. “You are asking us to assist you in murder.” At the last word, her fingers found their way to the base of her throat, where the mark of Rak’keli was drawn on her skin. It may be her imagination, but she felt the mark throbbing with discomfort. A resounding no was building inside her mouth, but something about the woman made her pause. Taking another human life . . . that went against everything she believed and held dear – even if she was not the one holding up the blade. “There must be another way to solve this matter.”
This little adventure had turned into ways Verena had never imagined. They had barely entered the swamp, but their leader had been taken by this thing called Qamur and another woman had emerged asking them get rid of said leader. They were left here, with no guide and no way to leave the swamp.
The Lorak glanced at the odd woman once again, her violet eyes trying to discern everything.
“Who are you, really?” the healer questioned blatantly. “You serve . . . a goddess?” The way the woman pronounced the name Caiyha - with a tremendous amount of reverence and respect - reminded Verena of herself. That amount of devotion was quite distinct. Even Verena, who was untrained in reading expressions, could very well understand just how serious and driven the woman was. She rarely met someone like so. Once again, she was reminded of Caedmon Paille and the glowing mark on the back of his neck.
The mud-covered woman continued on, leaving more questions echoing inside the healer’s head. “You and your precious Dynasties have tried to carve your legacy into the heart of the swamp and my Lady has been... tolerant of it. However, she will not allow Harameus and his playful machinations destroy such a force. And that is why this... Lessiya must die.” The fact that this woman knew Lessiya’s name was unnerving. Did they know each other? Or had this goddess – Caiyha – had truly been aware of what was transpiring so far?
“Die?” Verena asked, taking a hesitant step back. “You are asking us to assist you in murder.” At the last word, her fingers found their way to the base of her throat, where the mark of Rak’keli was drawn on her skin. It may be her imagination, but she felt the mark throbbing with discomfort. A resounding no was building inside her mouth, but something about the woman made her pause. Taking another human life . . . that went against everything she believed and held dear – even if she was not the one holding up the blade. “There must be another way to solve this matter.”
This little adventure had turned into ways Verena had never imagined. They had barely entered the swamp, but their leader had been taken by this thing called Qamur and another woman had emerged asking them get rid of said leader. They were left here, with no guide and no way to leave the swamp.
The Lorak glanced at the odd woman once again, her violet eyes trying to discern everything.