I received my soul as a young man, barely more than a boy. Only one of the Eight was among our forces at the ti - Zahra Alsaif, the Great Sword. She was a formidable woman, and appeared as a force of nature even to my newly-ensouled eyes. When barriers were crumbling around , she was my constant reminder that I had a long distance yet to walk.
For sixteen years we fought together, shaping the Gharic front. We managed great things together. I learned much of the world and myself under her tutelage, even as Ardalts renewed commitnt to the War pressed us.
Her final lesson to ca when she fell in defense of Azim Alsu. It was not her example of a woman walking her path to its fullness, though I have never seen her equal. It was not the inspiration her death lent to her n, that gave them the strength to repel the invaders, though I have never seen its like.
It was the light that ca to in the depths of my despair, when I heard reports of the man who now bore her soul. One of our enemies, a man without redeeming qualities, a butcher and a boor even before the soul found him. The injustice of it wounded greatly, and the lack of her guidance left disconsolate.
If not her, to whom could I appeal against an injustice greater than myself? It had not been her practice to coddle , but she was always there as a comrade and ntor in trying tis. No more. I felt a novel and horrible solitude grip , and it was then that I realized: this had been her life. Alone, at the apex, she stood against the world.
It is a realization that I think every man cos to in one form or another, as he ages, but I flatter myself to think that its form is the most profound for bearers of a great soul. There is no conceit of appealing to higher authority. I am naked beneath the sky, and must contend with the storms as they co.
- Saleh Taskin, On Reclamation, 687
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