Blackwater Islands magisterial

something had changed, yes.

something was wrong.

she could no longer sense the thrumming, fluttering energy of mortality within him. too soon, far too soon. her eyes flicked over him with urgency. what had summoned this creature? had she underestimated the power of her own grief? was the creature within her truly so bestial as to rend reality with its savage sorrows?

or perhaps wanlida's own power had summoned it.

he was not ready.

the prophet hastened in her preparations, gathering the stones and shells and bones she'd collected for the binding circle which should have come first. it was too soon. he would rise, terrible and hungry and so very unprepared. all around them the spirits began to shriek and moan and sing. something terrible had happened, something dark, something wrought by the prophet of light herself.

she who had been born of darkness, she who had crossed into the light —

the shadow she'd cast was dreadful indeed.

quickly, before he could truly rouse, she bled him. a shallow cut upon his foreleg; a smear of blood to mark the circle. she arranged the bones, the ocean treasures.

you will not cross, she commanded as the last piece fell into place, uncertain even now that such crude measures would hold a creature of this power. a creature of her power.

an equal.

the metallic taste of blood surged on her tongue, and for a moment she looked on her keeper and saw only a rival; a foe to be slain. only the weight of her own chains held her back.

i love when the listener's schemes don't go according to plan <33 makes it feel a little more realistic