Blackwater Islands rebirth

the listener herded @Veran from dark waters to pale sands, her long fur dripping seawater with each step. together, the pair sought the keeper.

the keeper will make you strong, the prophet decreed, turning the full intensity of mismatched eyes upon her new acolyte. just for a fleeting moment. and then you will choose your path. only three paths lay before those who became acolytes. the herbcraft of alchemists promised the power of life and death; the occultists' path led to magick beyond imagination; the strength of the thaumaturge was forged in war and flame.

but which new life would belong to the veran?

you will think on this as you train, veran. will you learn the power to heal allies and poison foes? will you learn to speak to spirits and bend them to your will? or perhaps you wish to shed blood.

the prophet doubted this. he was a coward, was he not?

the druids will guide you. you will speak to them, the keeper's dark figure bloomed through the haze, distant and imposing. the listener's gaze snapped to veran, searching. would he fear the druids' iron guardian?