Page 22 of The Divine Shallows
It was only then that Elowyn truly observed the prince’s appearance. Draeden stood several inches taller than her, with claret red hair cropped just above his brow. She noticed the warmth of his bronzed skin where their fingers met, just a shade darker than her own. Her gaze followed the crescent moon marked on her palm, mirroring the one on his. His aura hinted at his age, suggesting he was only a few years older than her.
Draeden’s smile remained, his dimples playfully winking at her. Elowyn felt a flutter in her stomach as he continued to gaze at her, his irises resembling two brilliant spheres of liquid gold. Sensing how longshe had been holding his finger, she quickly let go and took a step back to create some distance between them.
“The First Day ritual is about to begin. I should get going; I wouldn’t want to miss my chance to be captivated by another magical gateway,” she chuckled, teasing him about his earlier remark. “Especially one as indulgent as the path to the Heart of the Temple.”
“Moons, no. We couldn’t have that, could we?” Draeden replied with a smile, taking her palm in his and placing a kiss on the back of her hand. “Until we meet again, Elowyn.”
Elowyn couldn’t hide her flushed face this time as she felt the warmth of his lips lingering on her hand even after he released it. She gathered the skirts of her dress and hurried up the marble stairs leading to the Temple of Caena, the feelings stirred by Draeden’s presence lingering with her every step.
8
Banquet of the Blessed
The echoesof Elowyn’s heels clacked off the polished stone flooring as she stepped into the Temple’s grand foyer. Above her, a circular skylight framed the ceiling allowing streams of sunlight into the open space. Though her mind urged her to head straight for the Heart of the Temple, her feet led her to a wall engraved with Neramyr’s rich history.
The wall depicted the seven feylands in intricate detail, each blade of grass even scored with precision. It was a tribute to the land of the fey and the Temple’s purpose—to honor the Moon Goddess and preserved the very cave where the original seven warlocks and sorceresses sought refuge during the Old Age. Within the Heart of the Temple lay the Divine Shallows, the ancient waters where Caena had emerged to save the first fey from slaughter.
On this hallowed ground, Caena had bestowed her Mark upon the original seven warlocks and sorceresses, granting them an ability to wielddivine magic, the very same otherworldly magic that was blessed upon her palms after birth.
As the crowd around her thinned, Elowyn rested her wandering thoughts and headed for the entrance to the Heart of the Temple. Striding to the central spiral staircase, she descended to the lowest level of the Temple. As she hastened her steps, she was mindful not to trip over the skirts of her dress. Soon, she reached the lowermost level, where the walls bore an even more elaborate depiction of the Moon Goddess’ origin.
In this empty space stood a magnificent stone archway, a mighty presence. Elowyn approached it, peering beyond the curved stone pillars to observe the magical ward that concealed the entrance to the Heart of the Temple. This sacred entrance was similar to a moongate, but significantly more complex and sophisticated than a mere portal. This divine portal was created millennia ago by the original seven warlocks and sorceresses, their ancient powers sustaining it to this day.
The portal projected an illusion of a midnight skyscape, its dusky azure canvas was a boundless cosmos sprinkled with a sea of stars. Celestial comets streaked across the enchantment, leaving shimmering trails of starlight in their wake. This magical gateway captured the essence of the Heart of the Temple, the most sacred place in all of Neramyr. And within it, Elowyn sensed the primordial aura of the ancient magic that sourced the ward. To say it was breathtaking would only describe a fraction of its beauty.
Artfully engraved onto the marble pillars of the stone archway were the names of the original fey rulers of Neramyr. Elowyn had been taught from an early age that these monikers held more than mere symbolism; they were imbued with the magic of the ancient warlocks and sorceresses they represented. With a gentle touch, she traced the curves of the closest inscription with her fingers: Elmyr Fangwright, the first king of Eriden.
The story of this sacred ward traced back to the dawn of the NewAge itself: the seven founding fey sacrificed a portion of their divine magic bestowed by the Goddess to create this protective barrier around the Divine Shallows. It was a selfless act to ensure the eternal preservation of these sacred waters. This act hailed generations of divine magic wielders who defended Neramyr against the evils of the Old Age, maintaining an era of peace.
Taking a steady breath, Elowyn brought her thumb to her lips and pricked her skin, coaxing a small crimson bead to swell to the surface. She placed her thumb upon King Elmyr’s name, pressing the blood into the marble—an offering to her ancestor. The marble marked red, then emitted a pulse of ancient magic. Her blood offering began to shimmer with a pale moonlight glow before vanishing entirely, signifying acceptance by the sacred archway.
Elowyn learned that this ritual served as a gesture of respect to the founding fey and to Neramyr itself. It symbolized a drop of her life offered in tribute to King Elmyr and to honor to all those who had come before her. As a feyling, Elowyn once speculated that these blood offerings sustained the ancient magic protecting the Heart of the Temple. However, she later discovered that every fey who entered the temple performed the same ritual, each honoring their respective House in this tradition.
The archway called to her, and Elowyn heeded its silent summons, crossing into the illusion of the midnight sky. She felt a surge of energy enveloping her, heightening her senses as she awaited entry to the Heart of the Temple.
A fleeting moment passed and she appeared in the Heart of the Temple.
Now amidst a gathering of fey nobility and courtiers, Elowyn surveyed her surroundings. She had ventured into the Heart of the Temple only a few times before, the most significant occasion being her birth when she faced Caena’s judgment in the Divine Shallows.
As Elowyn navigated through the crowd, many individualsgraciously made way for her, likely due to theaureumdraping from her shoulders. Pressing onward, she made her way towards the area designated for House Fangwright during the ritual. Along the journey, she exchanged polite smiles with both strangers and familiar faces until she finally reached her destination. Spotting her parents positioned near the Divine Shallows, she took her rightful place standing behind them.
The ritual of the First Day was about to begin, with the High Priestess already stationed within the Divine Shallows at its center. The scene before Elowyn nearly mirrored the memory she had of it from seven years prior. She recalled that the First Day was one of the most, if not the most, celebrated day of the Ceremony. This day marked the return of candidates from their seven-year Trial, emerging as divine warlocks or sorceresses—the greatest magical status one can achieve in their lifetime.
Sensing a familiar presence beside her, Elowyn turned to see Elyria’s reassuring face. With a soft smile, Elowyn greeted her sister, mind-whispering a quiet“hey”. Elyria responded in kind, slipping her hand into Elowyn’s, offering a gentle squeeze before releasing it. Together, they directed their attention towards the High Priestess standing amidst the ancient waters of the Divine Shallows.
At the center stood the High Priestess, atop a flat circular stone depicting an illustration of a crescent moon. Surrounding her were the seven stone sigils representing the Houses of Neramyr. These sigils encircled the High Priestess, leaving ample space between them, each dedicated to a noble lineage.
The sigil nearest to Elowyn belonged to House Fangwright, marked by a firedrake etched into the flat stone. This would be the very spot where she would eventually stand if chosen by the Goddess on the Seventh Day to claim her divine candidacy. To her right, the next stone bore the sigil of House Bloodweaver—a basilisk coiled on the stone. Following it was the grimwolf of House Mirthwood, then the phoenix of House Skyborn. Next came the gryphon of House Darkmaw, theloch hydra of House Driftmoor, and finally, the winged ophis of House Blackbane.
As the High Priestess shifted from the Divine Shallows, a hush fell over the Temple. Her voice resonated through the chamber as she addressed the assembled fey.
“Fey of Neramyr, I bid you welcome to the Temple of Caena,” she began, her gaze sweeping over the attentive crowd. “Today, we gather to witness the First Day of the Ceremony—a sacred day when Caena opens the gates to her realm once more for the return of the candidates who embarked on her Trial seven years ago.”
Her words rang louder as she continued, “These candidates were granted the chance to traverse the Bridge Between Worlds and seek divine judgment. Should they prove worthy, the Goddess will bestow her sacred Mark upon them, granting the gift of her divine magic to wield in Neramyr.” The markings along her arms glowed, emphasizing her words. “Let us ask the Goddess for her guidance as these candidates return to Neramyr.”
Turning to each of the monarchs of the seven realms, the High Priestess nodded once. She raised her palms upward, and the iridescent markings along her weathered arms ignited with moonlight, emanating ethereal energy. Below her, the ancient waters churned and swirled at her calves. Soon, the air in the Temple thrummed with power.
“It’s time, we must begin,” the High Priestess declared.
