Page 6 of The Divine Shallows
Mist began to swirl and coil around the feet of the fey within the cavern. The seven magical fey followed the elusive mist to its origin. It led them to a reservoir of shallow water nestled in the heart of the cavern, its surface tumultuous and turbulent. From within the mist-laden waters, a radiant aura emanated, heralding the arrival of a mysterious figure stepping forth from the ethereal shallows.
The figure flickered in and out of existence, its aura pulsing and glowing with an intensity. The atmosphere in the cave shifted, surgingwith an arcane power. The figure’s form remained elusive, fluctuating from small to tall, slender to robust, while its hair morphed from cascading waves to cropped curls that danced around its face.
With each step taken from the shallows, the figure’s hair and robes billowed around in movement, as if gravity ceased to exist in its company. Drawing nearer to the fey, the figure exuded an ethereal feminine presence, though her features remained shrouded in mystery. The seven fey stood transfixed, stunned by the sheer magnitude of the divine power radiating from her.
Advancing past them, the figure centered herself at the entrance of the cave just as the protective wards casted by the fey finally shattered. With a deafening wail, the creatures waiting outside charged in.
The luminous figure raised her arms and unleashed a torrent of moonlight from her outstretched palms. The winged creatures recoiled, their screeches echoing through the cavern as they shielded their eyes from the radiant beams. Another wave of divine energy pulsed from the figure, and she engulfed the beasts in searing moonlight. Their distorted faces contorted in agony as their flesh began to blister and burn, devoured by the divine power.
Amidst their anguished cries, the beasts thrashed violently, their bodies wracked with pain as the moonlight penetrated their very being, consuming them from within. With each agonizing moment, their movements grew weaker until death finally claimed them, leaving only stillness in its wake.
Turning towards the cave’s entrance, the otherworldly figure extended her palms once more, moonlight still streaming out from her palms in rivulets. This celestial energy took the form of both gentle rays of light and torrents of flowing energy as it snaked down her arms while she conjured another protective barrier that shrouded the entire cavern, protecting the fey.
Stepping beyond the safety of the cave’s confines, the figure left moonlighttrickling behind her path. With palms upraised as if in supplication to the heavens, she directed her gaze skyward and drew upon the moon, channeling immense power.
In that moment, the world shattered.
Within the cavern, the fey trembled as the ground shook with each surge of celestial power that raged beyond its walls. Though the figure had vanished from sight, the lingering aura of her magic still saturated the air. For hours on end, the mountain quaked and trembled from the magic that seethed outside.
Eventually, the world quieted, and a calm settled upon the feylands.
Even the air once fuming with celestial power now ebbed into stillness and silence. Dusk was retreating and dawn was nearing as the morning sun creeped through the entrance of the cave.
At last, the figure reappeared in the cave. Her form still flickering with the glow of moonlight as she floated towards them. The seven fey beheld the figure and knelt before her, both in gratitude and reverence. Approaching them, the ethereal figure extended her hands and, one by one, bathed them in divine moonlight. Each of the seven fey were now aglow. As the ethereal beams danced upon their skin, delicate patterns of translucent ivory ink were traced. The patterns etched tales of sacrifice and valor upon their flesh. These markings bespoke the unique journey and devotion each fey possessed, weaving an artwork of courage and resilience across their bodies. Lastly, the shimmering ink drifted down their arms and ebbed at their palms, forming a crescent moon at the heart of each fey’s hand.
In that moment, clarity dawned upon the seven warlocks and sorceresses. They accepted that this figure was no mere apparition, but a higher being—a Goddess of Worlds.
With her divine touch, she marked each of the seven fey, entrusting them as the first fey to be able to wield her divine magic. The fey understood that they were chosen as the vanguards of a new era. Under the guidance of the Moon Goddess, they ushered in an age of order and harmony known as the New Age. Establishing sevennoble houses across the feylands, they become the first rulers of the kingdoms of Neramyr.
The culmination of the legend ended at this last tapestry.
Since her youth, Elowyn had been mesmerized by these ancient tales. Her fear turned to reverence as she began to understand the origins of how her power came to be. Her father instilled in her the importance of understanding the significance of divine magic. He emphasized how it set her apart from the fey whose abilities were rooted solely in native magic.
Much like Elowyn herself, Elyria displayed an insatiable curiosity of Neramyr’s history and origin. She’d even read every book in the royal library thrice. However, Elowyn surmised that her sister was not merely seeking knowledge, but answers to her own story.
Elowyn navigatedpast the tapestries and through the wooden shelves until she reached a foyer within the library. The room was dim, only lit by the stained-glass windows reflecting colors that painted the furniture and floor tiles. This library held a special place in Elowyn’s heart, having spent countless hours here with her sister exploring every corner.
At present, the library seemed deserted, except for one soul.
“Elowyn, how many times must I remind you not to scry on me?” grumbled the snow-haired sorceress that Elowyn glimpsed on her stone earlier.
Even in moments of distress, Elyria looked beautiful. This was a quality that always stirred a hint of envy in Elowyn’s heart. While all fey possessed an inherent allure, Elyria surpassed all of them—she was beautiful beyond reckoning. Taller and lither than Elowyn, she moved with an effortless grace while her white hair cascaded down her shoulders and back in gentle waves.
Elyria’s eyes were a silver rimmed with ebony, framed with lush lashes that lined their petal shape. A delicate nose was set between high cheekbones and her skin was rich olive. Her lips, a rich warm brown, held a captivating charm, particularly when curved into a smile that revealed her four fangs—a trait no other bloodline in Neramyr possessed.
Elowyn bore a resemblance to Elyria, albeit a slightly less captivating one. She inherited her father’s striking features and boisterous demeanor. Meanwhile, Elyria took after their mother, exuding arresting beauty and an almost supernatural grace. Furthermore, Elyria possessed a tremendous amount of wisdom, likely stemming from her seven-year seniority to Elowyn.
“I had to track you down somehow, didn’t I? I brought you something because I heard you weren’t feeling well. I even brought our favorite treat,” Elowyn replied, presenting the tray of tea and biscuits.
“I just needed some space. With the divine Trial approaching, Father has been... overwhelming,” Elyria confessed hesitantly.
At the mention of the Trial, Elowyn’s cheerfulness shifted to seriousness. “Do you feel prepared?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose,” Elyria responded, her gaze withdrawn.
Elowyn knew her sister well enough to know her eyes were fixated on her palms. The one distinctive feature Elowyn possessed that her sister lacked was the pair of iridescent crescent moons permanently etched onto the skin of her hands.
Setting down the tray of tea and biscuits, Elowyn settled into the chair beside her sister. “You’re the strongest candidate across the seven realms.” Elowyn lifted her palms, displaying her two crescent moons. “Even with these, I feel rather inept compared to you.”
