Page 85 of The Divine Shallows
Instead, the fey of Neramyr wore masks of reverence and veneration as they beheld the princes and princesses chosen to embark on the upcoming divine Trial.
Amidst the adulation, a noble fey of high lineage stepped forward. Blessed with only the first Mark, he bowed in deference to the ‘sacred seven’.This action ignited a flame, spreading like wildfire that swept through the gathered crowd. Throughout the Temple, heads inclined, knees bent, and bodies lowered in respect for the candidates chosen by their Moon Goddess.
Elowyn caught sight of Lox amidst the crowd and his face was one born of storms. His aura, painted with somber shades of gray and blue, revealed the inner conflict he harbored, yet he too bowed in deference to his brother—his future king.
It seemed she was not alone in suffering over a sibling this night.
Elyria’s haunting words ricocheted in Elowyn’s mind, each repetition deepening the sense of foreboding thatgripped her soul. The finality and heartache in her sister’s voice reverberated within her, unsettling her to the core.
In that moment, a fearfulness seized Elowyn, a nagging sense that her sister’s words were referring to something far beyond the Trial of Caena.
That night,sleep eluded Elowyn. Instead, she found herself drawn to the familiar cherry-stained door of Elyria’s chamber, seeking the comfort of the wood-carved mountains and winding rivers. As her hand reached for the gold-worn latch, the once-enchanted door now felt ordinary—the magic it once held had faded.
With a gentle push, the door yielded, swinging open easily. Stepping into the room, Elowyn was surprised to find that the barrier her sister had once summoned was no longer intact, but instead replaced with another, one that allowed her entry. Elowyn remained cautious about the newfound enchantment; however, she had no doubt that it was the spell work of Elyria’s.
The antechamber lay cloaked in shadows and darkness, yet Elowyn paid no mind as Elyria’s familiar aroma of lilac and honey enveloped her. Drawing in a deep breath, she let the scent linger for a moment before navigating towards the bedchamber in the darkness. With meticulous care, she avoided disturbing anything as she entered the room. The familiar sight of the four-poster bed greeted her, its organza drapes fluttering gently in the breeze from the nearby arched window. Sliding off her slippers, Elowyn sank into the plush white mattress, pulling the linen covers snugly around her chin.
In the sanctuary of Elyria’s bed, Elowyn managed to finally escape into slumber at last.
As Elowyn drifted into her dreams, a vision unfurled, shrouding her mind in an arcane mist that thickened witheach passing moment. Within this haze, she became a mere spectator as a scene materialized before her, drawn into its mysterious depths.
In the dead of night,the Temple of Caena lay shrouded in an unsettling stillness, its hallowed halls devoid of occupants save for two solitary souls. One of these souls belonged to a fey, with eyes of silver and hair pure as newly fallen snow. Though still appearing in the bloom of youth, she bore the weight of countless lifetimes upon her slender shoulders.
The fey was searching for something—an entity that could not be gained through copper or coin, but with blood and oath.
Before the Divine Shallows, the fey sank to her knees, draping herself along the smooth edges of stone that contained the sacred waters and waited. Time stretched on, seasons flowing like currents in a river. With each passing year, hope blossomed anew in spring, desire simmered in the heat of summer, and longing mingled with the cool winds of autumn, only to be tempered by the harsh chill of winter.
Yet still, after countless years, the fey waited in silence, her everlasting patience a fascinating riddle, intriguing an ancient soul that dwelled within the temple’s depths.
Finally, an ominous voice arose from the Divine Shallows. “What is it that you seek, fey?”
“You.” The fey shifted her gaze, boring into the celestial waters, reciting a timeworn verse:
In shallows deep, where silence weeps,
Desires stir, as patience sleeps.
A dark power prowls, its presence dire,
Blood and oath it demands, tofeed divine fire.
A low, sinister laugh echoed in answer.
“You’ve lingered at my realm’s edge for eons,” the darkness murmured. “Are you prepared to bargain with me? I will claim something of yours: past, present, and what is yet to be.”
“A small price for all that’s gained,” the fey replied.
“Is that so?” The words echoed around the fey indistinctly. “I have lived countless lifetimes and dwelled through realms where time bleeds through ages like ink takes to paper. Your lips speak falsehoods as easily as steel cuts flesh, but your aura betrays truth.”
“What you crave lies within me,” the fey countered. “So, claim it.”
The ancient soul merely grinned.
Abruptly, ethereal talons ensnared the fey within a malevolent grasp, sinking into flesh and drawing forth crimson droplets of blood. The fey was dragged into the divine currents, as whispered words from nameless realms of unclaimed worlds were spoken—awakening an ancient spell, the fey forever bound by an eternal oath.
Elowyn was tornfrom the vision, gasping, and jolting upright in bed.
A searing pain coursed through the opal pendant on her neck, shattering something deep within her aura. Elowyn gasped, clawing desperately at her throat, tearing the chain away in terror. Dread gripped her as she beheld the opal stone now cradled in her trembling palms—it was lifeless, once full of warmth had now turned cold as ice.
