Shimmering Sands the erinyes

She was forged anew; her crucible had been the death of Taltos, her father.

Pain and grief had tempered her heart, steeling it over that nothing might penetrate it that did not already belong— and its filigree was a pattern of darkness and fury. For Emaleth had accepted her talents for curses, had accepted that she was the darker half of Deirdre's brilliant light. She embraced the enraged flames that licked and heated the steel in her breast. It made her stronger. She thought she had learned to control it, that she might be able to return to her homeland and use it to protect the strength of Donnelaith rather than unintentionally harm it.

She was the weapon, and her sister the healer.

Emaleth traveled slowly across the shimmering flat, panting from the heat, mismatched eyes dark with conviction. She had always been delicate and graceful, but the famine and her self-imposed exile had thinned her further still— the sharp angles of her body mirrored the form her heart now took. It was rage that fueled her, that gave her a supernatural strength that outweighed the weakness of hunger, and she moved purposefully across the landscape.