Page 3 of The Divine Shallows
She grasped the golden latch and pushed forward, only to be met with an invisible force and jolted back. Her lips pressed into a firm line as she made a second attempt, only to encounter the same problem. Elowyn’s older sister had been warding her doors for weeks without offering any explanation—no matter how much she questioned. Frowning, Elowyn ignored the voice in her mind that told her the door would not open regardless of how hard she tried.
Instead, she tried again knowing it would not budge.
It didn’t.
Acknowledging her frustration, Elowyn admitted that shedid, in fact, embody the typical entitlement of a younger sibling. Prior to her older sister’s decision to lock her out of her rooms, Elowyn was accustomed to freely entering her sister’s chambers as if they were her own.
Exhaling heavily, Elowyn shut her eyes and focused her attention on the energy emanating from the door. It was shrouded in a powerful ward, preventing entry from anyone who tried. The essence of the magic woven into the barrier carried a distinct aroma of lilac and honey—a telltale sign of her sister’s enchantments. Any sorceress worth their salt would know to discern the familiarity or unfamiliarity of such abjuration magic. If the magic were unfamiliar, it would raise suspicion and hint towards the possibility of another entity being involved, whether their intentions be either honorable or ill-intended.
Elowyn muttered a string of annoyances under her breath before taking a step back. With a furrowed brow, she tilted her head in concentration, devising how to dismantle the ward. With narrowed eyes,Elowyn summoned her own magic to inspect the door. She sensed the presence of four distinct connections, four magical bolts or locks guarding the entrance.
Clearly, her sister had no intention of allowing her entry without a challenge.
Elowyn delved into the spell work once again, peeling back layer after layer in search of uncovering more. The links were sound, the magic that created them being cogent and impressive. It was difficult to not take a moment to regard her sister’s craftsmanship.
After a fleeting moment of admiration, Elowyn attempted to sever the invisible links guarding the door. She called upon her magic, drawing it forth from the depths of her own reserves. However, as always, it met her with hostility, snarling at her like a caged beast. She tried to rein in the wild of her magic, yet her attempt was hollow and ineffective. The magical force within her was fierce and resisted all attempts at control.
Trying to tame her magic was taxing, strenuous even, like steering a ship through a tumultuous storm with a faulty helm. Despite her best efforts, she failed to command the magic residing within her. The torrents of her power slipped from her grasp, defying her will.
With a sigh of defeat, Elowyn released the hold on her magic.
She chuckled at herself dejectedly, finding the notion of mastering her own powers almost comical. With slumped shoulders and head hung low, she raised a pitiful hand and rapped on the cherry-stained door, muttering shameless greetings.
“Hey, it’s me. I’mcertainlynot bothered by the fact that you’ve magically sealed off your room. But, if you could kindly let me in, I’d appreciate it.”
Anticipating an irritated response, Elowyn was instead met with silence.
The absence of an answer indicated that her sister really wasn’t in there. Elowyn lingered for a moment, imagining the reasons whyher sister lately felt the need to keep her out of her room, or perhaps lock herself in.
With the Trial of Caena looming just days away, Elowyn imagined her older sister was feeling the relentless pull and pressure of anxiety. Despite being incredibly talented, her sister was tormented with insecurities. Elowyn had no doubt that her sister would complete the divine Trial successfully, and better yet—exceptionally.
Elowyn pulled out a smooth, flat, reflective stone from her dress pocket. Holding it within her palm, she drew in a measured breath and tapped into her power. Simple spells like scrying, aided by a scrying stone, were typically feats within her grasp.
A wave of magic pulsed through Elowyn as her silver eyes glazed over, fixating on the reflective surface of the stone.
Gradually, a scene unraveled before her.
Slowly materializing like a misty apparition, a spacious chamber came into view. The room was magnificent and grandiose, with towering bookshelves that lined the halls and enchanted tapestries that hung from the walls—these woven textiles depicted the ancient folklore of her kind. Above, a domed stained-glass ceiling encased an open lounge, showering sunlit rays of striking cobalt, deep scarlet, and lustrous amber down onto the room.
Elowyn’s gaze shifted to the corner of the scrying stone, focusing on a table within the vision. The rough-hewn surface was covered with stacks of books, loose parchment, and furled scrolls. Amidst the clutter sat a snow-haired sorceress, her back bent over a tome as she dipped a feathered pen into an inkwell. With careful strokes, she began inscribing something in a journal.
The moment Elowyn’s enchanted gaze fixated on the sorceress hunched over, the snow-haired fey stiffened, her back straightening abruptly as she slammed the journal shut. Whirling, the sorceress spun around, rising to her feet, and crossing her arms over her chest. Her expression contorted in irritation as she mouthed something inaudible.
Feeling like a crook who was caught, Elowyn winced as she watched the projected image of the snow-haired sorceress scowl at her through the magical stone. If she had to guess what the sorceress was saying, it would likely involve her older sister reprimanding her behavior.
“Damn it, not again,” Elowyn muttered to herself, ceasing the spell. Quickly, she returned the smooth stone back into her dress pocket and hurried down the hall.
In her haste, Elowyn collided with a servant as she rounded a corner, nearly causing the fey to drop the silver tray in her hands. This servant was older and ample, with streaks of gray mingling in the curtain of her short, snowy locks—the only traces of her lost youth.
Elowyn gasped and helped the servant steady her stance. “Oh, moons! Ora, are you all right?”
Ora had been a constant presence in Elowyn and her sister’s childhood. She served as their handmaiden and chamber keeper. More accurately, Ora was like a fretting mother-figure to the two of them. Their actual mother, the queen of Eriden, possessed the strength and intellect befitting her station as one of the strongest queens in the seven realms. However, she lacked the gift of nurturing.
“Good morning, Princess Elowyn,” Ora responded to her curtly.
Fumbling at the tray in her hands, Ora quickly straightened the items that were strewn about from Elowyn’s ill-timed collision into her.
“It would be beholden upon you to mind your steps. A princess should never scurry about in such a manner. Speaking of unflattering behavior, where are you rushing off to at this early hour?”
