All is dark at first.
She can hear her own breathing. She can feel a faint breeze. She attempts to move but her limbs do not respond. The breeze becomes a gentle wind, carrying the scent of earth and fresh rain. A shape begins to distinguish itself before her: tall, strong, ancient. She gazes on it and sees familiarity: braches reach up in to the sky and root dig deep within the land. There is a rush of wind and she closes her eyes.
When she opens them again, Amoran finds herself standing before the Oak Fort in the middle of a great field, surrounded by tall grasses and flowering plants. The sun is bright and cheerful in the blue sky, warming her, the ground, and the air. She feels at peace here; she feels at ease.
A sound from the other side of the tree draws Amoran’s attention. She walks around to the side to see a woman, dressed in full armor, on one knee and panting heavily. Amoran moves forward to offer help, but the woman stands and squares her shoulders. Amoran smiles at the woman before her who is similar in appearance, yet with slightly darker and harder features. “Greetings, Kalamanira Kol,” Amoran offers with a smile. Her greeting is returned with a steely gaze.
“Why have you brought me here, Amoran? Why did you bring me to such a place?”
“Do you not like it, Kalamanira? Is it not beautiful?”
Kalamanira narrows her eyes and glares at Amoran. “You have a strange sense of beauty, ‘sister.’ This place is full of pain, of battle, of death.”
Amoran laughs a moment then stops when she realizes that Kalamanira is serious. “What do you mean? There is nothing but peace and…” She stops as Kalamanira steps toward her and hisses.
“This is a battlefield, Amoran! Can you not hear the screams and moans of the dying? Do you not smell burning flesh, the blood spilled upon the ground?” Amoran looks at Kalamanira in confusion, slowly shaking her head. “This place is dark!”
“But…” is all she can say when the wind picks up again, cold and biting. The wind blows strong, kicking up bits of dirt which sting Amoran’s face and hands. She turns her back to the wind and keeps her head down. She no longer feels the warmth of the sun or of the earth. When she looks down, the earth is pale and cracked. She lifts her head to see the verdant plain fade to be replaced with the battlefield Kalamanira spoke of. The sky has paled and the sun is a cool mockery of what it was before. Sunddenly, her senses are assaulted by the stench of burning and death. Amoran is overwhelmed, dropping to her knees and retching.
When she stands again, Kalamanira is standing before her with the same look as before. Amoran looks around at the wasteland battlefield. She turns to look behind her and gasps. The Accursed Growth now stands where the Oak Fort was just moments before. “Kalamanira… the plain… the Oak Fort… What is happening?”
“Does it matter, Amoran? There is no beauty here, no peace. There is only struggle here. The strong survive and the weak perish – the way it has always been for us, for our people, and for all living things.” A Kalamanira’s eyes flash and she moves toward Amoran.
“I am the strong one, Amoran. I am the warrior. You are nothing; you are weak. I am tired of having to share this life with you, this mind and soul. I will conquer you here and I will be whole again!”
Amoran shrinks away from the coming attack and dodges at just the right moment to avoid being split upon Kalamanira’s blade. [i]This is it![/i] she thinks to herself. [i]This is my trial! But… what do I do?[/i]
What do you think Amoran should do? Your words will affect this player, so think and speak carefully.