AMALiA
"But Mort begged for it." She remembers Safrin clearly: it was Mort's love that saved them all, his adoration which offered them salvation when destruction presented an easier and more permanent solution. He had not wanted killing then, so why should he want it now?Unless, of course, it wasn't killing. Unless they were already dead.
Was it really life, or simply not-death? How many times has the baker wondered that, growing up under a concealed sky? She flinches to hear her blasphemy used against her, knowing that she cannot say anything in retaliation without becoming a hypocrite. But never would Amalia have acted on these thoughts, not without the guidance of a god.
Roana has that guidance. Roana has that guidance, and now Amalia is trying to act against her own deepest convictions, to say that it is wrong. It is a moral struggle greater than any she has tousled with before, and the girls hands clench and unclench as she continues walking, her eyes on the ground.
And here, again, Roana has her, the threat to her children a strike Amalia knows she cannot counter. "At least wait until after Long Night," the Shield begs, her voice soft. "We have enough to be afraid of, now. Wait until the sun comes back." It will give her time to find another solution, to beg for guidance from Vi.
the darkest nights produce the brightest stars
