Blackwater Islands secondsight

intelligence glimmered in those blue eyes, blue as the sea beyond the black waters of the druids' sacred isles. blue as the realm of spirits. all three of her children had been born with this hue. perhaps it meant something.

the listener smiled on her only daughter, a rare and terrible sight on her haggard features. that she favored morgra above the others was a secret best guarded by her keeper, but in these moments of solitude she allowed herself weakness.

you are small now, weak as i once was. one day you will be as i am now. powerful. divine. a leader, a speaker, she hoped fervently. you will speak the will of the unnamed god. one day she knew those she had chosen would leave, follow their own ambitions; it was natural, expected even. the unnamed god did not give gifts to those who would squander them, and the spirits called even the most faithful to unexpected fates. but those born of divinity... they would be more.

more, but less... as was the listener herself.

they faced a different fork in the road, one created only for them. the path of light beckoned even now. at the end of it, god; creation. but there is always a price. perhaps her children would rage against it, rebel, betray, kill; perhaps they would go gladly to their fates. the result would be the same in the end, decided by their strength. only two paths were left to them.

divinity, or destruction.