In every part of the equatora, there was an isolated island that was considered by the people of that region as a holy place. This island was called Hurricane Island.

Every sixty years, hurricanes described as a black hurricane would blow from the island to engulf the surrounding lands. It would go on for about five months, breaking rocks, metals, and pillars of any size before it went back to the island.

It was in these five months that the leader of the region, the person who would rule the region for the next 60 years, would be selected. The path was simple: anyone who wanted to be selected for the seat had to come out and stay in the black hurricane for five months. Afterward, the one person that was left standing would be the leader in the region for some sixty years to come.

Getting selected as a leader wasn't the only thing sought out in the hurricane. The main objective was to receive blessings from the hurricane. There was no power in the universe or Bend that couldn't be found in the hurricane. Therefore, people took the risk for the sake of getting something in return, even if they weren't strong enough.

Nusi laid on the ground, totally unaware of the two-headed dordor that was about to cut her open.

Unfortunately for the dordor, Nusi's flesh wasn't meant to be eaten on that day, the flute was blown. Anyone who lived in the equatora knew its sound. It was the sound of the hurricane. A sign that the time had come and the sixty-year cycle had come to an end.

The blow reached dordor and it jumped on its feet, throwing the knife in its hands away and fleeing. It wasn't just him, every dordor there was running except the Great dordors who had been waiting for the black hurricane all along. That was the reason there were so many of them in one place.

Not long after the first blow, the reigning king of the region who was a nine-headed, red dordor appeared in the scene. He was dressed in dark armor. Each of his nine heads wore a helmet. He seemed to be ready to win again and go back to his throne. His pol, 7,080 years, was written boldly on his chest and on the top of each helmet.

But he wasn't the only one fighting, there were other ancient-looking dordor and Benders who were also seeking the title and the blessings to be shared in the hurricane. They'd been planning for it for over fifty years and none of them had less than five thousand years except one person, which was Nusi.

Soon the area grew dark, so dark that you couldn't see your palms without an aid, and then the hurricane came. The warriors began to reveal their age-long plans to succeed in the crown.

So the wind continued to run wild for a long time until it was five months.

No one knew what happened in the hurricane. Every sixty years only one person would be successful and they didn't share their experience. So the only thing you would find was a rumor. Every tribe or group would have their tales about what happened there. They were all lies, of course. Only the person who had been there known the truth.

After five months, it began to slow down. It took three more days and then everything calmed down.

The judges of each region came out to see their new kings. They approached the field where they expected to see the king. But to their surprise, instead of meeting a king, they met a queen.

She was a beautiful black woman, standing tall and charismatic. There were no signs of injury anywhere in her body. Her eyes radiated a white glow of pol. A small golden bowl could be seen in her right hand and her left hand was a small tree with many green leaves.

She was none other than Nusi.

The judges fell to the ground on their knees in greetings and obedience.

***

Meanwhile, it had been five months in the headquarters of Ururu since the djinns Kalkuta and Netti started torturing Armad for the sake of the book-sword. It didn't work though. The book had remained hidden despite everything they did.

Armad had already lost consciousness and had been revived more than a hundred times now. Each time the djinns would intensify their torment.

Armad vowed to kill the two djinns and their relatives and Uznu Ururu. He also promised not to die and to take revenge for what they had done to him. If, as a result of his detention, his mother died, then he would kill the entire race of the black-eyed demons for revenge.

It went on like that for some time. And then one day, Armad saw the two djinns came into the room. They tied him up, covered his face with a blanket, and took him out of the room. Then he felt himself flying in the air with one of them holding him with its claws.