Blackwater Islands surreal

he questioned the prophet, as many did.

i summoned you here, she told him simply, beckoning him closer. she is ready to go home.

beyond the pale wayfarer lurked a youthful pair wrought in similar seaside shades. siblings, perhaps. the listener beckoned to them as well, waiting for whichever of the trio dared approach to reach the shoreline before she turned.

then she would lead them past the shores, into the twisting mossy forest of fog the druids called home. she would lead them to @Mireille.