12. 12 #2
The chamber is far smaller than the prayer alcoves surrounding it, built with purpose rather than comfort.
A pulpit carved from pressurized sandstone stands at the center of the back wall, its surface fluid despite centuries beneath the ocean's weight.
The stone was enchanted long before my reign, reinforced to withstand the violent currents that find their way in here.
Unlike the outer walls, where the runes sit dormant beneath the surface, these markings glow faintly against the stone.
Their light pulses softly, shifting like the currents themselves, as if something within them is still alive.
Magic resides here. That much is undeniable.
What purpose it serves, however, remains a mystery.
The elders before me never knew. The scholars have spent years trying to decipher the markings, only to leave with more questions than answers.
Even Velmira, with all her knowledge of our history, could offer no explanation.
My father believed it was a message left by Mother Ocean.
Others throughout the kingdom believe it is something older—something even she refuses to reveal.
Sarah's gaze travels across the glowing walls, her eyes following each rune as if she expects them to reveal their secrets. Curiosity pulls her attention from one marking to the next, her expression shifting between awe and confusion.
“The scroll will reveal more, as the future has revealed. Faded lines, no longer. Now words clear as our sea runs—only for the chosen one,” Velmira states cryptically.
I am not a fan of these unspoken words. My father was more familiar with decrypting these messages. I do what I can to hold onto the memories I have of my father. His legacy, his wisdom, and his intelligence. I wish I could claim I have some of it, but I do not. Not yet anyways.
“Wait, a prophecy that’s not completed? In every movie I’ve ever watched, prophecies are always completed,” Sarah huffs lightly, lifting her eyebrows.
I'm surprised she hasn't freaked out that Velmira’s eyes are glazed over.
Mother Ocean, help me. She's amazing. Orion—you cannot be thinking about how amazing a mortal is.
“Are you blind?”
I snap out of my daze and ill-timed thoughts, realizing the words were spoken out of Sarah’s mouth.
“Velmira, my apologies, this is—”
“I know who she is, your majesty.” She holds her hand up, blocking me from speaking more.
She turns her attention toward Sarah and continues, “Magic is fond of you, land-dweller.
It speaks to you when your eyes are dark.
It moves in you, sharp and still. Alive before, I'm afraid not. Now alive more than before, and much left to be revealed, for your future is still unclear.”
At this point, I realize what she states is no longer in reference to the scroll, just Sarah’s life in general.
But I still cannot help but wonder what some of her words mean.
They seem to resonate with Sarah, even though she tries hiding it.
The act is almost hidden, if not for the slight pause before she folds her arms across her chest, making a deliberate move to lean back on the stone wall, directly next to the podium where Velmira idles in place, upholding a mask of indifference.
Velmira is one of the final archseer's and has a large space where she keeps all the scrolls, holding old prophecies and religious instructions, past and present.
Our ancient spells, mainly scrolls locked with magical runes—a language also lost to Virellan—are locked away in a secret location, unknown to even me. Peace in the kingdom has brought us to hide these away for safe-guarding.
“Is this what the scroll revealed, Velmira?” I ask, rubbing my chin slowly.
“I apologize, your majesty. I am referring to my visions.” Her voice echoes like a current through the temple’s stone chamber. “Questions unanswered. Only one thing rings true, the lines once faded, now no more—the truth set free using the eyes of whom was chosen.”
Silence engulfs the room, and a chill ripples down my spine as I step forward toward the podium, my eyes narrowing as I scan the surface.
“There is nothing here. The lines still appear to be faded,” I state, still unsure as to what her message is supposed to tell me. Velmira does not answer me.
Lines once faded, now no more—the truth set free using the eyes of whom was chosen.
Chosen by whom?
“They are not meant for you, your majesty.”
I blink. “What?” My voice lowers, realization bursting through me, unwelcome and undeniable. “It is you.”
I tilt my head sideways and watch as Velmira’s gaze shifts to Sarah with unsettling stillness. Ever since she stole my father’s magic, everything has been about her. Why? She's just a land-dweller.
Turning my head, surprise probably written all across my face, as I stare directly into those emerald eyes.
Sarah has been leaning against the stone wall this entire time, arms still crossed over her chest, knuckles pale from the pressure.
She has not said a word since Velmira spoke, but now she moves.
Pushing off the wall and uncrossing her arms, she takes a single, calculated stroke back. Then another.
“No.” Her voice tightens. “Do not even think about it. I am not reading that thing.” She continues to back away slowly, inching toward the exit, like the scroll itself might reach out and drag her in.
“Sarah—,” I start, careful not to raise my voice.
“I’m not doing it,” she snaps, cutting me off.
“I didn’t ask to be a part of this nightmare.
I'm supposed to relinquish these powers and go home! I’m not the chosen one.
I’m not magical. I track how marine life survives in human junk.
That’s it! That’s what I understand . . . not scrolls and prophecies.”
“Snapdragon—”
“Stop calling me that!”
Velmira remains silent and unmoved, her sea-glazed eyes locked on Sarah.
“Maybe your scroll is broken,” Sarah adds, voice brittle now. Defensive. Desperate.
I swim toward her slowly, careful not to startle her into bolting farther out of the entryway than she already is. “Or maybe it is not,” I say quietly. I keep my voice gentle but grounded. “It’s just waiting. For you.”
She does not move, but I can see the way her eyes dart to the scroll, only for a second, before snapping back to me. She continues to retreat, but is not leaving. Not yet.
“I know this is confusing and terrifying. Goddess, Sarah, I know. But life is always full of moments like this—when you do not get to know all the answers ahead of time. When you are forced to choose anyway.”
She exhales a shaky breath, fists gripped tightly at her sides like armor.
“I am not asking you to believe in it. Not yet. Just look at the scroll. If Velmira is right, if you can actually read it, then we will finally have something solid. Real answers. And if nothing happens?” I offer an exiguous shrug.
“Then you can relinquish the powers, go back home, and pretend like nothing ever happened.”
She does not speak, but I can feel tension shifting around her, like the ocean before a storm, pulsing with decisions yet to be made.
“Having powers does not define you,” I say.
“But the choices you make? They will. For all of us. I wish you could do as we both wish and give up the powers so we can all move on with our lives. However, my kingdom cannot do this without you; we need you.” I lift my arm and hold out my hand—not pushing.
Just waiting. “Let’s figure it out together, Snapdragon. ”