Sylaise’s expression remained unreadable as Camlen spoke, though the faint glow in her eyes pulsed with something ancient and knowing. She did not answer him immediately. Instead, she turned, moving through the grove with slow, deliberate steps, her fingers grazing the air as if tracing unseen threads of power. The sanctuary, for all its stillness, thrummed beneath her touch.
She drifted past stone pillars entwined with ivy, past gnarled roots that pulsed with quiet magic, until at last, she halted before a wall of twisted vines. Her gaze sharpened.
There.
With a single gesture, the tangled growth withered and pulled away, revealing an ornate mirror hidden within the grove’s embrace. Its frame was delicate, wrought in patterns that shimmered faintly with residual enchantment. The glass, though dulled by time, rippled at her presence.
Sylaise exhaled softly, her fingers hovering just above the surface. As the mirror stirred, her own reflection shifted—not as Megara, but as herself. The goddess as she had been before time unraveled, before Arlathan fell to ruin. The image was fleeting, no more than a glimpse of her original form: tall and radiant, woven from flame and light, her presence both sorrowful and enduring.
"A shard…" she murmured.
The reflection fractured like water disturbed, swirling into a delicate wisp of energy that coiled toward her. Sylaise raised a hand, pressing her palm flat against the glass. A rush of power rippled through the air as the shard within the mirror surged forward, drawn back to its source.
The energy flowed into her—into Megara’s form—like liquid gold. The moment it touched her, Sylaise inhaled sharply, staggering back as the magic took hold. The warmth in her eyes flared blindingly bright before dimming, her breath coming in unsteady gasps.
"Megara will be well,"[i] she assured, though her voice wavered, her control slipping. [i]"But… some adjustment is… required…"
Her figure swayed lightly, her balance becoming uneven, before her eyes closed and the elf suddenly collapsed. The glow faded, her knees buckling as she crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
@Zevran Arainai
@Bach
She drifted past stone pillars entwined with ivy, past gnarled roots that pulsed with quiet magic, until at last, she halted before a wall of twisted vines. Her gaze sharpened.
There.
With a single gesture, the tangled growth withered and pulled away, revealing an ornate mirror hidden within the grove’s embrace. Its frame was delicate, wrought in patterns that shimmered faintly with residual enchantment. The glass, though dulled by time, rippled at her presence.
Sylaise exhaled softly, her fingers hovering just above the surface. As the mirror stirred, her own reflection shifted—not as Megara, but as herself. The goddess as she had been before time unraveled, before Arlathan fell to ruin. The image was fleeting, no more than a glimpse of her original form: tall and radiant, woven from flame and light, her presence both sorrowful and enduring.
"A shard…" she murmured.
The reflection fractured like water disturbed, swirling into a delicate wisp of energy that coiled toward her. Sylaise raised a hand, pressing her palm flat against the glass. A rush of power rippled through the air as the shard within the mirror surged forward, drawn back to its source.
The energy flowed into her—into Megara’s form—like liquid gold. The moment it touched her, Sylaise inhaled sharply, staggering back as the magic took hold. The warmth in her eyes flared blindingly bright before dimming, her breath coming in unsteady gasps.
"Megara will be well,"[i] she assured, though her voice wavered, her control slipping. [i]"But… some adjustment is… required…"
Her figure swayed lightly, her balance becoming uneven, before her eyes closed and the elf suddenly collapsed. The glow faded, her knees buckling as she crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
@Zevran Arainai
@Bach
02-11-2025, 09:12 AM
