From digging the dirt, I learned by smell which vegetables and herbs
would flourish best in different fields. By seven, my talent brought me to
other towns and villages to help increase their harvests and cultivate the
best produce to sell at the great markets at Nehor and Seht. In gratitude,
the people in towns without an Amalaki temple began to call me Aferi,
which mean “of the soil” in their native tongue, and it is the only name I
have answered to since.
My awakening to the deeper meaning of my power came with a dream
that shook the foundations of the Temple. I saw myself rising from the
vast universe below, cutting through oceans, rocks and the underpinnings
of our world like a shooting star. I burned hot and furious as I flew, but
I welcomed the heat and the friction that spoke of my coming. I arose
from the dream to find my bedsheets soaked with sweat and my clothes
burned to ether. Around me the Mothers, my mothers, kneeled before
me in prayer and welcome.
I was 14 years old and The Mother was alive within me.
News of the earthquake that my awakening caused travelled quickly on
the tongues of those who witnessed and those who had merely heard
the story of the Awakening of Aferi. But as the whispers of rumor and
legend returned, they brought a trail of danger right to our doorstep. At
least, that is what I tell myself in times when blame and guilt feel more
manageable than the truth. The danger was closer than I ever realized.
In reality, trouble was already waiting, like fertile soil. The news of my
awakened power merely provided the seed it needed to take root and
grow strong.
During their time, the Mothers brought almost as many daughters as
sons into the world, but only girl children can enter into the Amasiti.
So our brothers were often moved to the outer circles of the temple
or adopted as valued apprentices at the age of 13 when we began our
ordination as Amalaki priestesses. But even though our paths diverged,
we always loved our brothers – some more than others.
When I think of my childhood, it is hard to recall a time when Safaro was
not at my side. Though he was a year older, we did everything together.
Pulling up weeds from the garden that I would feed him until
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