Page 73 of The Divine Shallows
With newfound energy and strength, Elyria called upon her native magic once more, commanding it to break free from the confines of Sylas’ spell. She felt the tendrils of power within her stir, laboring to overcome the enchantment that bound her. Gradually, her magic returned to her, fragment by unfaltering fragment. The sensation was unparalleled, as if everything had been restored to itsrightful place. Elyria hadn’t realized the void that had consumed her from the absence of control over her own magic. Throughout her life, her native magic had been an extension of herself, a loyal counterpart. She knew, just as it had always been and always would be—her magic would not falter her now.
With her magic fully under her reign once more, Elyria directed a violent torrent of power at the magical confines that imprisoned her. Elyria’s magic erupted throughout her body, splintering the spelled links one by one in rapid succession as she snapped her head upwards.
Instantly, Sylas spun around, his face overtaken by shock. He abandoned his coordinated assault with Kerrick against the blood-eyed eel and hastily redirected all his magic, channeling into the legacy spell, but it was too late.
Elyria had emerged from her prison of submission, donning a look of venom—wearing it as if it were made of the finest silk.
“How?” Sylas exclaimed in disbelief, his eyes wide with alarm. “That’s impossible.”
Kerrick, noticing Sylas’ sudden distraction, turned to follow his gaze, only to be met with the sight of Elyria standing tall and free from the grip of the Bloodweaver feat. At once, his confidence faltered at the sight of her.
What she did defied all logic—Sylas was correct about that. Yet, there stood Elyria, liberated from the grasp of a legacy spell. Legacy spells were among the most potent and powerful classes of spells, being nearly impregnable, but there were always exceptions—and Elyria was an exceptionally powerful sorceress.
Whether it was that she descended from a royal bloodline, or that she possessed a legacy status herself, or that she sacrificed her soul towards strengthening her magic, all that was certain was that Elyria gave rise to her prevailing outcome, defying the odds.
If Sylas had taken more of her blood to imprison her mind in his legacy spell, perhaps Elyria would still be shackledunder his influence. But while the exact reason for her liberation would remain unknown, it was no matter now.
Standing tall on her raft, Elyria thrusted her arms and unleashed a torrent of magic towards the other six candidates. She felt her magic wrap around their minds like iron chains, instantly overwhelming Lynora, Lillia, Iva, Galen, and Kerrick. Elyria had expected most of her competitors to succumb easily, but what intrigued her was Sylas’ strong resistance against her mental manipulation.
Turning her attention to Sylas, Elyria confronted the last mind she needed to bend to her will. His sea-green eyes met hers with unwavering intensity, revealing a psyche admittedly much stronger than the others. If Elyria had remained under Sylas’ legacy spell, he might have been chosen by the Moon Goddess as the cohort’sprimis. Almost certainly.
“You’ve been quite busy, Sylas,” Elyria remarked bluntly. “Colluding with the others to bring about my downfall long before I even knew who you were.”
Sylas remained silent, his aura telling of his discomfort. But before he could respond, Elyria continued.
“I overheard your conversation with Kerrick in the Driftmoor castle’s lounge,” Elyria pressed on. “In truth, I was deeply disappointed. I believed you cared for me, but it seems I was merely reminded of the cruelty deep-rooted in the fey of Neramyr. And you, Sylas, are no exception.”
Sylas shook his head before responding. “My actions were driven by one goal, and that goal alone: to be namedprimis. I do care for you, Elyria, but this is not personal. You, of all fey, should understand the sacrifices required to prove oneself worthy in the eyes of the Moon Goddess.”
Her anger pitched as she hurled her words at him.
“No, Sylas,” Elyria’s eyes flashed with intensity. “You knownothingof what it means to prove yourself worthy to the Moon Goddess—you know nothing of the cost. Pray tell, what have you endured at thejudgment of the Moon Goddess? What do you know of the price paid for being seen as unworthy in Caena’s eyes? As you pursued your hunt for divine greatness these past seven years, I have labored my entire life for mine.”
Elyria took an eerie step closer. Her next words echoed in Sylas’ mind and his mind alone.
“Do not equate the cost of your aspiration to what I’ve sacrificed for my salvation.”
Sylas blanched at her voice in his head, an exchange for only him to hear.
“I didn’t mean to—” His sentence was abruptly cut off by a brusque wave from Elyria, sending a sharp pulse of magic through the air.
Elyria refused to indulge Sylas any longer. With a flicker of her magic, she shattered his psyche, his body stiffening with a vacant expression as she dominated his mind. Then, she directed her attention to the other six candidates, who now stood in a trance-like state under her mental control. An ember of anger ignited within her as she watched them, blank and biddable on their rafts. How could she let herself so easily perform within their playwright? Elyria’s resentment threatened to cloud her judgment, but she refrained.
Now was not the time for rash decisions; theVituswas far from over.
Her next move demanded more precision and concentration. With all six competitors under her mental sway, she swiftly cast the next spell. Turning her palms upward, she channeled her magic towards them, weaving into their minds, threading through their thoughts until they gave way to her mental siege. With one final maneuver, she managed to completely overwhelm their psyches, gaining total cognitive control.
With her magical grip firmly established, Elyria commanded them with a singlethought.
Kneel.
In unison, the six candidates stiffly dropped to their knees on their rafts.
Bow.
Obediently, all six of their heads dropped to their chests, submitting to Elyria.
With what Sylas could only achieve through a rare Bloodweaver feat and a conduit, Elyria had accomplished a similar effect with her own psionic abilities. Yet, there was no victory in her expression. Even through the lens of retribution, Elyria’s expression remained frustrated. Her psionic magic was not enough to garner the Moon Goddess’ attention.
