Camlen’s eyes widened, his entire demeanor shifting as soon as Megara’s voice—no, *her* voice—rang through the air. His body went rigid, the ancient elf mage taking a step back, away from her, his face a mix of awe and horror. He knew that voice. He had heard it countless ages ago, when the world was still young, when gods walked among mortals.
Camlen swallowed hard, his mind racing. He had spent ages hiding from Elgar’nan, carefully weaving barriers and illusions to shield himself from his wrath. But this—*this*—was something he had not anticipated. To face Sylaise herself, in this mortal form? It was a sign, an omen he could not ignore.
Slowly, carefully, Camlen knelt on one knee, bowing his head in submission. His earlier suspicion and hostility were gone, replaced by the quiet humility of one who knew exactly who stood before him.
His eyes flickered up to meet Megara’s glowing gaze, though he quickly averted them again, not daring to look directly at the goddess who had once walked beside the People.
Camlen paused, his hands trembling slightly as he placed them on the ground in front of him, palms flat in an ancient gesture of supplication.
The ancient elf kept his head bowed, waiting for Sylaise’s next command, his heart pounding in his chest. He had evaded the wrath of the gods for so long, but now, in this moment, all of his fears seemed insignificant compared to the presence of the goddess standing before him.
Sylaise…he whispered, his voice barely audible, though it carried the weight of centuries. His fingers trembled as he instinctively brought them to his chest, a gesture of reverence mingled with fear. The cat that had been guiding them all along sat perfectly still, its eyes glowing softly as it gazed up at Megara—no, at the goddess who now spoke through her.
Camlen swallowed hard, his mind racing. He had spent ages hiding from Elgar’nan, carefully weaving barriers and illusions to shield himself from his wrath. But this—*this*—was something he had not anticipated. To face Sylaise herself, in this mortal form? It was a sign, an omen he could not ignore.
Slowly, carefully, Camlen knelt on one knee, bowing his head in submission. His earlier suspicion and hostility were gone, replaced by the quiet humility of one who knew exactly who stood before him.
My Lady Sylaise,he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.
Forgive me. I did not know you walked among us once more. I have kept to my exile, hidden from the wrath of Elgar’nan, protecting this sanctuary from those who would tear it apart. I... I did not mean to obstruct your path.
His eyes flickered up to meet Megara’s glowing gaze, though he quickly averted them again, not daring to look directly at the goddess who had once walked beside the People.
I sought only to protect myself from those who serve Him, those who would bring ruin upon me for the crime of existing. But if you have come with these... mortals, then I see now that my caution was misplaced.
Camlen paused, his hands trembling slightly as he placed them on the ground in front of him, palms flat in an ancient gesture of supplication.
What would you have me do, My Lady? I am at your service, as I was in the days of old. If it is your will that I aid them, then I shall do so without question.
The ancient elf kept his head bowed, waiting for Sylaise’s next command, his heart pounding in his chest. He had evaded the wrath of the gods for so long, but now, in this moment, all of his fears seemed insignificant compared to the presence of the goddess standing before him.
10-25-2024, 12:12 PM
