Dear Friends:
Ahh, Kali.
No character has sparked more debate—more admiration, more criticism, more visceral reactions.
She is “intriguing.”
She “has no depth.”
Her bond with Agni is “absolute fire.”
She’s “just there as an object of adoration.”
And from the artwork…
She’s “alluring.”
She’s “too furry.”
All direct quotes from friends and beta readers.
Physically, I imagine her like the Woren Clan from Breath of Fire—expressive tiger-like ears and a tail, light fur along the arms and legs, and a feline grace. Her tribe, the Aloi, are purposefully more animalistic that others in the Mortal Realms, to reflect a worldview, lifestyle, and mythos that honors nature. Unfortunately, others read this as “backwards.”
Moreover, they have allied with Solantia, which creates natural tension: Agni cherishes the valor of Aloi warriors who voluntarily enlisted into his command. Sara, who grew up hearing courtly jokes at their expense, makes her own—and loathes what Agni’s Aloi lover represents.
Yes, I think Kali is alluring. But my first image of her is not the seductress or soft comfort to Agni. It’s her fierceness and defiance. A staff or spear, raised proudly and adroitly.
I set out to make her inspiring, not polarizing. And she inspires me. A woman who wears her scars openly. Who can be vulnerable without losing her pride. Who loves without surrender. Who dreams not of being rescued, but of remaking the world around her. When she meets Agni, the noble warlord, she treats him as an equal.
No major character drew a worse hand than she.
Agni suffers but is heir to a formidable power.
Anton’s agony spans centuries, but his tale is suffused in the pursuit of glory.
Sara and Verlan are high nobles, heir to a great name and wealth.
Alexander knew love and the sea, and saw all corners of the Mortal Realms.
Kali was born to be used. A tribal orphan groomed to breed babies for a local lord. She fled from that fate, crossing hundreds of miles alone, living on wits, charm, and her staff. She sang and danced for scraps. She stole from nobles’ larders to survive. But she never stopped dreaming.
It is her tribal dance that brings her to Agni—a chance performance before a great commander who sees something rare in her: not just her beauty, but presence. And she sees not just a warlord, but a man who listens, who opens his sorrow. She has no ladyship, no credits, only herself. And that breaks the emotional walls each has constructed against a harsh world.
Unlike Agni’s grand betrothal to Sara, sealed with an unsure kiss, he and Kali recklessly fall for each other. Within hours of their meeting, they are so smitten that they rut in an abandoned barn. She knows he can promise her little, but she doesn’t crumble. She learns. She grows. She dives into books and philosophy with the same hunger she once needed to survive the day. But she never forgets who she is—an Aloi, an outsider—and never abases herself before anyone. Her loyalty is freely given, hard-earned, and steadfast. She holds out hope that she and Agni can live as husband and wife, even against a high noble’s wishes.
With Alexander, she forms a quieter bond—they represent family that the other never had. She teases him. He watches over her. He sees a daughter in her strength. She sees a gentle protector the world never offered her. They never say the words, but they don’t need to.
Kali’s loyalty is fierce, but never blind. She knows nothing of immortal schemes, but would face Anton Kazirian himself with nothing but her staff and her heart. Because even should she die, she would die unafraid.
Kali survives.
Kali defies.
Kali flourishes.
And whether you love her or not, you will not forget her.
For the Borderlands,
Joe