Page 75 of The Divine Shallows
“Oh no,”Elowyn whispered, her body tense, fists clenched as she peered over the stands. Her silver gaze remained fixed on her sister’s kneeling form. Though only moments had passed since the Bloodweaver candidate cast his legacy feat upon her, Elyria remained unmoving and her aura was muted, now quieted beneath the spell. “Come on, Elyria,” Elowyn murmured in desperation.
ThisVitusunfolded unlike anything Elowyn had anticipated. The scene before her was entirely unusual, diverging from the customary practices of the ritual. She, along with the entire arena, was taken aback when the Bloodweaver candidate revealed himself as a legacy. By disclosing his status, Sylas established his potential to alter the outcome of theVitusentirely.
In Neramyr, legacies were revered as much as they were rare. Elowyn knew it had been decades since a fey born outside of the royal bloodline possessed a legacy status. Not even her mother, the queen of Eriden, inherited this distinction.
The realization unsettled Elowyn’s aura.
At the onset of theVitus, she had held an unwavering confidence in her sister. But with the emergence of another legacy in the ritual, there was no telling what the Moon Goddess would make of it.
Elowyn couldn’t recall if two legacies had ever competed in the sameVitusbefore. Nonetheless, an irking voice in her mind reminded her that when her turn came to participate, she would face six legacies—six royal candidates. She shook her head, attempting to banish the thought, and redirected her attention to the arena as she released a flustered breath. Arms drawn tightly to her chest, she watched as the other divine competitors battled the foul creature summoned by the Blackbane candidate.
Elowyn’s gaze anxiously shifted to Elyria, still ensnared under the Bloodweaver feat, kneeling on a raft with her head bowed low. She bit her lip nervously.If anyone can overcome a legacy feat, it’s you, Elyria.Elowyn’s attention then darted to the Driftmoor candidate as he and Sylas orchestrated a calculated assault on the sea creature. A small gasp escaped Elowyn’s lips as she observed the sapphire-haired warlock from House Driftmoor summon a towering wave with a sweep of his forearm and hurl it towards the sea creature.
The summoned wave crashed into the creature, engulfing it completely just as Sylas cast another spell upon it. The waters surrounding the blood-eyed eel began to churn, thickening with viscosity. The creature’s frantic movements slowed as it thrashed against the treacherous tide, now formed semi-solid. Sylas’ arms extended powerfully, his fingers laced in a cage-like fist. The beast writhed within Sylas’ grasp and Elowyn sensed the unmistakable sensation of a great deal of magic being channeled.
Elowyn speculated on the source, initially fixating on Sylas, but quickly realized her assumption was incorrect. Her eyes snapped to Elyria’s form, and Elowyn released the breath hitched in her lungs. Before anyone else in the audience could comprehend what was unfolding,Elowyn witnessed her sister’s vacant expression morph into one of malevolence.Elyria did it.In awe, Elowyn watched as Elyria overcame the Bloodweaver feat and counter spelled each of the other candidates. Though there was a cryptic exchange between Elyria and Sylas, she effortlessly asserted control over all six of their minds. Elyria compelled them to kneel in submission before her, assuming the position from which she had just freed herself.
Beside Elowyn, Finnor released a low whistle at the sight, impressed by Elyria’s actions and the message they conveyed.
Next, Elowyn sensed conflicting auras rippling across the audience. She worked to stifle the pleased expression that was blooming across her face, but her sense of satisfaction halted when she observed Elyria pause. She recognized that look. Her sister was grappling with something within herself.You’ve got this, Elyria.Almost as if hearing Elowyn’s silent encouragement, Elyria finally raised her gaze to the midnight sky. With focused intent, her moonless palms turned upward as she began summoning a powerful sum of magic that rattled the arena.
Breathtaking pillars of ivory flames erupted from Elyria’s upturned palms, and Elowyn’s mouth fell agape. She had witnessed those ominous white flames only once before. A blend of fear and awe enveloped her.Moonfire.Elowyn couldn’t discern if the word escaped her own lips or was murmured by another member of the audience, but the word began to ripple across the arena with the force of a raging river. Elowyn watched as the flames springing from her sister’s hands began to morph, taking on the form of magnificent, winged silhouettes—moonfire firedrakes.
“By the Goddess,” Finnor whispered under his breath, reclining back in his seat. “That’s incredible.”
Elowyn knew he was right. To wield moonfire was a formidable feat in itself; to manipulate moonfire to this extent was unimaginable.
As the white flames danced before Elowyn’s eyes in the arena, an unfamiliar memoryensnared her.
Suddenly, she found herself transported back home, standing in her father’s study. The king of Eriden stood before the crackling flames of the hearth, while Elowyn lingered behind him silently, hesitant to speak unless spoken to.
“Elowyn, you are destined to be the future queen of our realm. Do you understand the weight of this responsibility?”
Elowyn blinked and shook her head. Her father sighed. “Come, stand beside me.” He gestured for Elowyn to join him, and as she moved closer, he knelt to her level. “At this moment, you have celebrated five namedays. You are still a feyling, but soon you will be called before Caena. The Moon Goddess has chosen to Mark you at birth, and when you reach candidacy age, she will demand you to prove yourself worthy of this blessing.”
Elowyn winced at the thought.
King Eamon chuckled softly and placed both of his hands gently on her shoulders. “Worry not, Elowyn. As my daughter, you are destined for greatness. You are the sole blood-heir to the Fanged Throne. As the heir, you have inherited the gift bestowed upon House Fangwright by King Elmyr. Do you know what this gift is?”
Elowyn shook her head once again.
“Many moons ago, during the dawn of the New Age, the Moon Goddess granted each of the founding monarchs of Neramyr a unique gift—a legacy to be passed down to the future guardians of the feylands. These seven gifts are exalted, meant to be wielded by only those with noble intent and just cause.”
Elowyn’s eyes grew curious as her father continued. “The first king of Eriden was granted the gift of wielding a special form of magic from the Moon Goddess: moonfire. Moonfire is one of the primary forms of magic the Moon Goddess used to vanquish the creatures of the Old Age.”
King Eamon guided Elowyn to an arched window in the study and together they gazed at the night sky. He closed his eyes and drew ameasured breath. “Close your eyes, Elowyn. Can you feel the moonlight touching your skin? Do you sense its divine essence?” Elowyn furrowed her brows for a moment, concentrating, before nodding in affirmation. He continued, “Mastering the ability to harness moonfire fully is said to take years, but I managed it in mere months. And just as I did, you too will master moonfire swiftly. Would you like to give it a try?”
At the proposition, Elowyn paled. King Eamon chuckled once more. “It’s quite all right if you’re afraid, Elowyn. Such power should never be underestimated; understanding the gravity of the magic you wield will make you a finer sorceress than most.”
He turned back to her. “Watch my hand.”
Elowyn studied her father’s upturned palm, noticing the intricate moon inked dragon scales adorning his fingers, hand, and exposed forearm. Soon, she felt the pull of potent magic as it gathered in her father’s palm. At the center, a small flame flickered to life, its glow as white as snow. Elowyn gasped, taken aback by the sensation. She instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a chill. “Father, the fire—it’s white! And so cold.”
A hint of amusement graced King Eamon’s expression. “This is moonfire, Elowyn. The white flames are born of the moon’s energy at its coldest point. This magic can only be wielded when the moon surfaces the night sky; the fuller the moon, the more potent the moonfire. During my reign, only two living fey have demonstrated the ability to harness moonfire. It is indeed a rare gift to inherit.”
Elowyn furrowed her brows once more as she looked up at her father. “Is it you and mother?”
King Eamon shook his head. “It is me and your Uncle Edwyn. Soon, a third moonfire wielder in this kingdom will emerge. My true-born daughter, you shall carry on the Fangwright legacy.” He tenderly pressed a finger against Elowyn’s heart.
