Page 5 of The Divine Shallows
The memory beganto fade and Elowyn absentmindedly brushed her fingers over the comforting teardrop chain around her neck as she refocused on Ora.
“Elyria isn’t in her room, I already checked. However, sheisin the royal library. Do you mind if I bring it to her?”
“Bless her heart, that child always has her nose glued to a book. Be mindful of your sister when you see her,” Ora cautioned as she placed the tea tray in Elowyn’s arms.
“Don’t worry, Ora, I promise I’m not as much of a troublemaker asyou make me out to be. Plus, I’m Elyria’s favorite person, so I’m sure she’ll want to see me,” Elowyn said with a wink.
Ora’s lips tightened while her eyes narrowed as she watched Elowyn flash another smile and head in the direction of the library.
The gemstone around Elowyn’s neck warmed with delight, singing in response to soon being reunited with its other half.
2
Myth of the Moon Goddess
Balancing the tea tray carefully,Elowyn nudged open the towering twin doors of the castle’s royal library with her hip, entering carefully so as to not spill a single drop. Stepping inside, Elowyn noticed it was emptier than usual. Normally, scholars of the Seven Spires traveled from all realms of Neramyr to frequent this place, hoping to study the ancient texts it housed, the royal library now seemed eerily quiet.
Eriden’s royal library was renowned across the seven realms for its vast collection of knowledge. The fey of Eriden placed great importance on learning, evident by the stacks of written work meticulously documented from the New Age, and even a substantial array of artifacts preserved from the Old Age.
Information about the Old Age was scarce, predating the establishment of the seven realms and the very existence of Neramyr itself. However, there were a select number of artifacts from this ancient era preserved by the first fey. These invaluable texts and scrolls were housedin the cellars beneath the library, safeguarded by extensive wards which prevented unlawful access and ensured nothing ventured out undesired.
Most historians and chroniclers speculate that the feylands of the Old Age were imbued with pure and unclaimed divine magic. It is believed that this boundless magic roamed freely throughout the feylands while vile creatures thrived on it without restraint. Historical depictions portray these beasts as savage and primal, embodying the essence of evil itself.
However, since the dawn of the New Age, such creatures have vanished from Neramyr, unseen for millennia.
As Elowyn traversed the library’s wooden labyrinth, she half-expected a scolding to ring out at any moment. She was awaiting to be rebuked for carrying steaming liquid amidst the priceless tomes that lined the shelves, but was surprised to find that no roaming archivist or wandering bookkeeper was there to reprimand her. She simply shrugged her shoulders and let her gaze wander around the library until they were drawn to the tapestries adorning the walls.
The woven textiles depicted a myriad of legends and fables, some of which Elowyn knew well. One tapestry in particular never failed to capture her attention. It belonged to a large series of fabrics that illustrated the lore of divine magic and its connection to the Moon Goddess.
The first time she came across these tapestries, she was five and horror-stricken. Now, at nineteen, she stood before the details of the textile art, admiring the threads that depicted her kind’s rich history.
She let her gaze fall to the first tapestry of the series as it began to unfold a primordial tale before her eyes.
The legend began with illustrations of the feral creatures and beasts that roamed the feylands during the Old Age. These savage beings brought chaos, wreaking havoc on the first fey that inhabited the unclaimed territories. Creatures born from nightmares and wrought from hell reigned the lands, plunging the world into a ruinous age of fear and terror.
The desolate skies harbored flying harpies, grisly wyverns, and winged manticores. The depths of the Swyn Sea were swarming with kelpies and wicked water spirits. The shadows of the Elberrin Forest lurked with heinous changelings and fanged tygers. The grassy plains of Highbend were overrun with lindworms, giant cyclops, and nefarious ogres standing taller than three fully matured fey combined. Meanwhile, within the caverns nestled alongside the Eriden and Erimead mountains dwelled hordes of blood-thirsty dhampirs, wretched ghouls, and soul reapers.
The next tapestry that followed this delved into a prelude of a disastrous legend.
During the Old Age, the first fey endured an era marked by brutality and savagery. They rallied against these beasts with their own native magic, but the fey were powerless against the divine magic wielded by the creatures. Their attempts to survive were futile—males, females, and children alike fell victim to the relentless onslaught of these beasts. The first fey lived in a perpetual state of unrest and uncertainty.
For centuries, the fey and these monstrous creatures were entangled in a sordid dance of death and destruction, and resources were depleted until they fragmented to almost nothing. The fey’s numbers dwindled as the beasts overwhelmed and vanquished the strongholds of their defenses. Dreadful days befell them, and night terrors became reality. The fey found themselves outnumbered and outmatched at every turn.
As doom loomed near, the fey made a desperate attempt forge their way out of the bloodshed. They sought refuge in a shielded cavern nestled between where the Eriden mountains ended and the Erimead mountains began.
This cavern served as their final sanctuary, a last bastion of hope.
Only seven warlocks and sorceresses remained in their ranks, using the last of their sapped native magic to cast a ward over the cave’s entrance.
However, the beasts of night eventually found them. The vilecreatures waged another attack, launching a final assault to massacre the last of them standing. That fateful night, the fey prepared themselves for the ruination of their folk. Families and kin gathered, bidding partings and farewells as they awaited their end, dreading when the protective spell guarding them would inevitably falter.
The next tapestry was dyed a maelstrom of grays and browns, depicting the despair and desolation the first fey suffered.
As the night wore on, trepidation and sorrow filled the cavern where they sought refuge. Their vile foes were chipping away at the wards link by link, and the last surviving magic wielders were now weary and exhausted. Knowing that their protective barrier would not last until morning, the seven fey made a final attempt to move their kin further into the depths of the cave, hoping to shield them even mere moments longer. The wards began to crumble, the magical veil shielding the cave entrance trembled and strained, struggling to hold its form. In silent agreement, the seven warlocks and sorceresses stood together at the entrance; a united force, prepared to protect their own to the bitter end.
Elowyn moved onto the next three shimmering tapestries and another spellbinding scene unraveled before her.
As the fate of the fey hung precariously in the balance, the stroke of midnight fell, and the sky was as dark as the shadows in their eyes. Swirling gray clouds churned overhead, parting with a deafening crack of thunder, cleaving a fissure in the heavens. A faint light emerged from the cleft in the clouds and a crescent moon appeared.
