Gifts

Eventually her feet brought her to a dark place, as she always claimed they did. A pathetic excuse of sunlight danced on the horizon, painting the distant line of the sky pale grey. Not that it made it seem any less dreary. Stripes of darker shades followed like a long tail to drown the vestige of rays the setting sun had left behind as night time was closing in. Below them the sea had already surrendered to a grim colour. Unlike the sky that was bathing in several, the water had only one, that of coal, save for the occasional glimpse of white at the glint of small waves.

It was there that the Naga was first seen just a night ago by the Surveyor's side, it was there that she had finally vanished after sweet words and a parting gift, submering with captivating grace, returning into the ocean. Unlike the previous evening though, there was no creature of the depths, no lurker in the shadow. She was as alone as she could be, which meant not at all.

Celysiel could count it nearly seven months ago when on these very sands, drenched and breathless, she had spoken the binding. And then it had been born, that amorphous mass with the large maw of several fangs and the smokey tendrils clawing to deny all life. So many memories were to be held at the coast. More than she even wished to remember, for she would falter. Now stepping on familiar damp sands, the apprentice was expecting no one. What she sought was a moment of respite before returning to the city in order to enjoy one last night before leaving the High Kingdom. To come to that area at such moment only seemed fitting.

What had greeted her that afternoon upon her return home had first been an investment for the future. It had been two days of gifts, but not a single one could defeat the first one she had been given the previous night. Still, the shortsword waiting fort her at home had come to her possession quite eagerly and with great wamrth, as well as appreciation, placed in her belt with the aim of being tested, even if her benefactor was not present to aid her in the task. It was only a few minutes later that the letter of summons was discovered. It should have terrified her, but it failed to. Fear was no more. Her most dominant thought was one of guilty joy, even if it meant that no sign of Surveyor Blackwood would reach her. Word had come. He would not take it from her.

Its weight was comforting, the tapping the metal against her body as she approached the sea. There was certain peace in spite of a gentle breeze stirrng small, constant waves. Anywhere in Eversong that would be a soothing sight, but in the Ghostlands silence was eerie. The atmosphere bore the odour of mold and rot. It was a terrible place, which was why Celysiel was so amused when she thought that more and more did it feel like home. In this lawless, dark place there were simply things that could be spoken and done which could not see the light of day. Even such an area had its uses.

Her fingers wandered towards one of the pouches hanging from her belt as she faced the sea. Demand for them was always increasing, based on what items she would find with every trip in every area, as well as how much attention they were worth. Of the seven currently hanging from her belt, five were empty. One held coins. The last one was special. It clearly held something slightly heavy in its embrace of brown leather, as well as sturdy, since it was not crushed into the girl's digits. She took hold of it and placed it on the sand among dried seaweed by a large rock, just steps away from where the Naga had offered her own present and then disappeared.

"My gift for you, lady of the tides." Celysiel whispered towards the sea. She had not used the shell to notify Ril'arhja for the offering, since there was no doubt that she had more improtants to mind than the gestures of an apprentice. Still, a gift had been promised, thoughthe young elf was uncertain if she would survive the days to come in order to deliver it herself. If it would be found was left to fate, an entertaining thought. It take days, weeks, months, years. Or never. It mattered so little.

It had to be an item different from the one offered to another the previous night, for floral tissue could not endure an eternity below the waters. Still, a lifeless bloom could. The petals were of marble, shaped carefully. And since the material was white, it was only fitting to humour the captivating, serpent-like woman by offering a lily. For all the moments of conflict in Celysiel's heart the previous night every time two words were uttered, that gift Ril'arhja had earned, as well as more to come. It was after all a relief to be left with a good impression when it came to one who guarded something so dear.

With the pouch secured in place, the apprentice finally extended a beckoning hand behind her, even if no other elf was present to keep her company. The gift was incomplete, but the final touch she could not offer alone. The mass of shadow descended from the sky as swiftly as an arrow. Sharp claws, as if made from steel, embraced Celysiel's thin arm. The eagle was bigger than before, half as tall as its mistress if not more, but weightless. Its white eyes remained impassive, though a peculiar bulge was added at the back of its head, as if it was growing a second head. It might as well have been the case. Like a whirlpool, it emitted a thousand sounds at once, but these could not reach anyone else. Only the young elf by its side. She did not need to gesture towards the pouch for Krator to dive its beak inside and prod the heart of the lily, leaving behind something wet, like dark tissue. A signature. A rustle of leaves, wind journeying through the trees. And something ancient.

There was nothing else for her in that place. With the large eagle shaped from darkness bound, the apprentice rose to her feet. She was ready to leave the beach behind, as well as the grim Ghostlands after so many hours spent in them. Home beckoned. One last night of rest before uncertainty. It did not matter. Her power was no longer halved.

Fear there was plenty, but it had turned into a throne of ice on which she sat and the chill of which could no longer touch her. A burden shared, a weapon in her hand. So strong was her resolve that a part of her knew there would be no other in the mirror if she looked, just her reflection. But why tempt luck?

Light began to fade as Celysiel finally approached the trees. Its last vestiges shined on the gift left to be discovered or lost. And as the shadows of the dark forest finally embraced her, the apprentice allowed herself but a small smile. In the Ghostlands silence was eerie, but for her there was silence no more. A second voice whispered in her mind. The most precious gift of all.