Hidden in the lead sky, above the floating platform, Balinor watched as his shield flickered and vanished. The giant wave washed away the platform. The nilthi amber stone melted away like butter. Balinor shied. The watcher would blame the lad's death on him.
But the dwarf could do nothing. Though like everything else here, he too was born from the chaos, he had no control over these natural forces.
His years-long meditation revealed to him two things:- who he was and why he was there.
As for the place, he had no idea. Long ago on the invisible mountain of xunor-xophura (caste of gold: ancient name of Ahom), he had met an old Suta. The white-bearded man, whose eyes had the wisdom of stars, told him what his birthplace was called. And the tale of the unnamed god, whose idol humbled the heaven.
"You smell like chaos, warrior. " the old suta had said, holding his gaze. "This Suta reckon you are the fabled Pitr-hin (fatherless) of Garbha."
