I do not own Golden Sun, it's characters, it's settings, or even the djinn. Another chapter from Hama's pov.


He was too small. He was supposed to be a hero, a warrior. The reincarnation of Yegelos himself. Not…not a boy. He was just a stunted, thin boy, with messy blond hair and eyes that looked too much like Mother's did. And his friends…true, they looked stronger and taller, but they were still just children.

She'd expected a grand entrance. Strong, resourceful adepts with wisdom and power beyond their years, striding through the doors in wild foreign dress and demanding an audience. Not that the prophecies had foretold such an entrance. But neither had they foretold that the great heroes of Weyard would be found collapsed and dehydrated outside the temple walls by one of the junior monks. The girl explained that they'd been traveling through Altin Peak, that they'd come across the temple by mere chance...

Not that Hama believed in such a thing. She'd foreseen that she'd be needed, thus she was here. Her sole task was to facilitate the descandant's quest, to teach him the ancient technique. She needed to make but a brief appearance and then disappear. In just a few short days, her life's purpose would be fulfilled.


Ivan. I-van. Ivan. The name tasted foreign, like stone. It was not a name she'd have expected of a hero of the wind. Not a name Mother would have given him.

Hama had never had a name for the infant brother; he was taken away before he was old enough for the naming ceremony. Neither did she have a name for the hero her life was crafted to serve, none except Him. To finally have a name after fifteen years…and not be able to use it. The young man who stood before her was too strange, too quiet to be the infant Mother died for. He could be the hero. He would be the hero. But never the brother.

Which is why Hama enjoyed being called Master too much to her liking. He said it too easily, with a meekness that came not from respect but from docility. She in turn found herself correcting him too quickly, sighing too loudly. He was a diligent disciple, practicing drills deep into the night. He'd made more progress in the first three days than Hama had after four months of training. But it was still too slow, too difficult. Hama's teaching was supposed to be a mere formality. She would pass on the ancient wisdom, the hero would grasp it instinctively and then leave on his world-changing journey. She was not supposed to be needed this much.

"M-Master Hama? May I ask a question?" Hama opened her eyes to see the child bowing on the mat in front of her.

"Yes, you may."

He glanced up at her and then shot his gaze back down to the floor. "I noticed…you are able to control the wind. To read minds. Your powers…they're like mine."

"Yes. I am one of the few remaining wind adepts like yourself." Was that so hard to fathom? He was a chosen warrior, but that did not mean he was the only person the Anemos had seen fit to bless with their inheritance.

The child shot up out of his bow. "There are more?" The paleness in his face showed that he immediately realized his impropriety, but something about the boy seemed too scattered, too desperate for manners. He spoke again, softly this time. "Then…there are others? Like- like us?"

Ah. Hama's suspicious had been correct. The merchant had foregone his promise; he had neglected to pass on the elder's lessons. The child knew nothing, not of Contigo, not of the Hover Jade, not of her…

Hama glanced at the staff of legends at the child's side. It's appearance was more like that of a stick than a weapon. Yet despite it's uncarved, knobby exterior, Hama could sense a great…history within it. At least the merchant had been honorable enough not to sell it. At least the boy had kept it safe.

Perhaps the elders had intended for the boy to be ignorant. If he knew of his past, his future (and Weyard's) was sure to change. However cruel, for the sake of Weyard Hama could not tell him of his people or the dangers he would face. Any duty she had as his master was subservient to her role as servant of the prophecies.

But was he really meant to walk on his path so blindly? Was even the savior of Contigo a mere pawn in others' machinations?

"Yes."


...I edited this one only twice, so it might have a few things wrong with it. Feel free to point out any typos or embarassing errors (in a kind, constructive way of course). I just needed to get this one off my chest. And yes, I know that I'm messing with canon a little.