Blackwater Islands beg that I succeed

They were to rule. But of course, this was their purpose in creation, was it not? When the shadows and mad gods had dipped their fingers into the primordial muck and shaped them, had they not created them with royalty in mind?

Pelagius watched his brother, for a moment. Mother and another of his favorite beetles, a mad god who whispered to him in an accent he did not understand, but loved all the same, hummed through his grey matter.

A perfect trio, us! It was hard to tell if he was pleased or simply smiled because that was his default expression, but everything about him screamed that he was ever so pleased to hold the spot made for him.

I left a bone somewhere upon this land. The upper half of a deer’s skull. It spoke to me, in whispers, while I was within the lands of Ingram. But I no longer need such a thing. He rolled his shoulders.

It should be used to invite the whispers upon the Listeners. Let them take in the knowledge we know. It was outside Mother’s den last I saw of it. He had meant it to whisper to the worms, tell them the stories of the islands, hiss secrets into their folded ears, but alas. Better late than never, as they say.