The next few weeks were the calmest. There was no more training. Every day, Amarisa and I went to visit my mother. She was overjoyed that we were back together and blessed us with many blessings. Though she insisted she was well, I was still worried as she showed little signs of full recovery.
In the evening, my friends came to visit us. We sat around the low-burning hearth, talking about everything under the heavens. Amarisa was close beside me, her hand stroking Malis as she listened to us.
But one particular night, the fire in the hearth suddenly burst with sparks. It roared and wagged with lustrous flames. We recoiled from the flare.
"What's happening?" I cried.
"My father, Agni," Morokot said. The glow softened. Then standing before us was the messenger god himself. He did not app
