Post by Crow • ᚴᚱᚬᚴᛦ on Aug 26, 2023 19:35:35 GMT
The boy awakens with a jolt and a shout.
Outside his hovel, each crow sounds a caw, one after the other.
The threadbare mattress and the back of his shirt are soaked with sweat. His head is made light by his rapid, panting breaths as he looks around, anchoring himself back to the waking world.
He thought that he was back in the deep underground, underneath the Court of Sorcery, standing before that colossal, shining white dragon with wings like rainbows. The Opal Dragon, the Archwyrm, the Maiden of Magic, the Lady of the Well — whatever her name is. Her booming voice shook his core and her breath melted the skin and flesh off his bones. He grasps at his own arms, making sure that his body is not on fire.
The boy lies back down, hugging himself tightly.
Why did they go through those stone doors? They thought it was a tomb for the Lady — no, it’s a tomb for he who is fool enough to enter. They had seen the doors and Sparks had destroyed his black wand in the strange blue waters flowing through the caves; they should have turned back then. He should have urged them to turn back.
That Unseelie man Rylas wants to send even more people down there. The truth did not deter him. The lies did not deter him. He spoke of recruiting common adventurers with no families.
Are the secrets of the Well worth the lives of five people?
When the Wanderer plucked out his own eye and cast it down into Mímir’s Well, did he hesitate?
The boy silently ponders this in the darkness. When he warned a group of adventurers at the Dragon to not accept a job from Rylas Thanim, they looked at him strange and told him to leave them alone.
But…he is without family. He’s not even supposed to be alive. None will miss him when he’s gone — again.
Be the eye that sinks into the well.
Better him than some other poor sod.
Outside his hovel, each crow sounds a caw, one after the other.
The threadbare mattress and the back of his shirt are soaked with sweat. His head is made light by his rapid, panting breaths as he looks around, anchoring himself back to the waking world.
He thought that he was back in the deep underground, underneath the Court of Sorcery, standing before that colossal, shining white dragon with wings like rainbows. The Opal Dragon, the Archwyrm, the Maiden of Magic, the Lady of the Well — whatever her name is. Her booming voice shook his core and her breath melted the skin and flesh off his bones. He grasps at his own arms, making sure that his body is not on fire.
The boy lies back down, hugging himself tightly.
Why did they go through those stone doors? They thought it was a tomb for the Lady — no, it’s a tomb for he who is fool enough to enter. They had seen the doors and Sparks had destroyed his black wand in the strange blue waters flowing through the caves; they should have turned back then. He should have urged them to turn back.
That Unseelie man Rylas wants to send even more people down there. The truth did not deter him. The lies did not deter him. He spoke of recruiting common adventurers with no families.
Are the secrets of the Well worth the lives of five people?
When the Wanderer plucked out his own eye and cast it down into Mímir’s Well, did he hesitate?
The boy silently ponders this in the darkness. When he warned a group of adventurers at the Dragon to not accept a job from Rylas Thanim, they looked at him strange and told him to leave them alone.
But…he is without family. He’s not even supposed to be alive. None will miss him when he’s gone — again.
Be the eye that sinks into the well.
Better him than some other poor sod.