The Magi were nothing but legends . . . until she became one.
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Pria is a fighter-in-training for the resistance against the empire. After years of being held back by injuries and illness, Pria finally has her chance to shine as the skilled Mo...
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
ओह! यह छवि हमारे सामग्री दिशानिर्देशों का पालन नहीं करती है। प्रकाशन जारी रखने के लिए, कृपया इसे हटा दें या कोई भिन्न छवि अपलोड करें।
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I LEFT THE TRAINING MEADOW with my posture poised and my gaze secured onward. The smell of pond water and wet dirt hung in the air. Jayla called out to me, but her cries only hurried my stride toward the bordering woodlands. Surrounding the town of Gaeris, the colossal Jartüles were considered the most spiritually sentient trees in the nation. Their vast trunks were lined with sparkling strands of silver with thick, winding branches that bore crimson leaves all year round. They towered taller than fifty men, and the otherworldliness they presented was precisely why the Elder had chosen this acreage as the training arena, even though it was a forest's walk outside of Gaeris.
The Jartüles would bring us good fortune.
They would bring us victory.
As I entered the woods, I heard the shuffle and snapping of brushwood behind me. "Pria, wait," Jayla insisted. "Forgive me. I did not mean—"
"Of course you did not mean. You are but a child, forever inconsiderate of those around you." I ceased marching and mustered a scowl. "And your braid, Jayla, is disastrous."
When I began my trek through the forestry once more, the girl proceeded to follow. A dog at my heels, a thorn in my spine—in those days, I had no kind words to describe Jayla Naiyal.
"Pria, I am from Esquoia. We do not practice such complicated plaiting. The women simply—"
"—wrap their tresses upon their heads whilst the men allow theirs to flow freely," I finished for her. "Yes, I am aware of Esquoia's outdated customs, but here in Gaeris, such styles are considered discourteous. Both men and women must thread their hair accordingly, in Rithika's honor."
"And in my homeland, we honor the Goddess by offering Her a shrine of fruit and coin, yet you do not see me casting prejudice upon Gaeris for its lack of offerings."
"That is because such traditions are wasteful and thoughtless. Why would Rithika relish such negligence while there are those out there hungry and destitute?"
I loathed the profligacy of cities like Esquoia. They spoke of faith and gospel, and yet, studied so little of Rithika's ancient scrolls. Booming with new architecture, literacy, and wealth, one would have assumed the Esquoians possessed the self-edification to ponder Her writings, as I had in my hometown. But Rithika was merely an afterthought in their celebration of life and innovation.
