Chapter 178: 178
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Before we know it, the carriage pulls up to a halt, jolting us forward with a joint groan of pain, and by that time I realise there is no more stalling. We have arrived.
Peering outside the small carriage window, I vaguely make out a towering crystal palace, glowing with a faint luminescence that just barely manages to illuminate the murky waters around us. Primarily, it is lit by a floating array of sea lanterns that bob and weave in the current, brushing past fish and hurried merfolk and little underwater houses in a flurried array of colourful lights. Beautiful, yet entirely intimidating.
The Palace itself is huge, and even that would be an understatement. So colossal that everything around it seems built in miniature- the houses, the communal buildings, even the towering branches of green and blue underwater trees, shimmering in a dim opalescence, are dwarfed to its size. I was expecting something small, or at least reasonable in size, given the unknown size of the cavern there was no sure way of telling just how big it could be, but this palace could inhabit hundreds, if not thousands in its walls. And by the looks of things, it does. Pale, ghostly merfolk flit in and out of the towering arch entrance, swimming with long, narrowed tails in the shape of sharks or multicoloured fish, some wavy, some adorned with fins, but all of them staring, their eyes trained on the royal white carriage that has pulled up short by the maw of the palace.
I would like to stay longer, to gaze over the nerve wracking sights of the palace, or this eerie underwater haven and obtain enough courage to walk in there confident and unfazed. But soon enough, the time for looking is up, and no such luck is granted.
One of the guards pulls open a door, awaiting from us expectantly to trail out of the carriage with an impatient flick of his silvery tail. Naturally, Delina goes first, stepping out into the open with the grace and poise of any natural vampire. As she steps out onto the track, wobbling a little in the water, I quickly realise how out of place we are here- all feet and no fins, as ungraceful and disorientated as new born lambs, a far cry to the elegant wash and sway of the merfolk as they pick their way past us.
It seems I can never quite fit in anywhere.
Kal and I go next, doing our best to maintain some sort of composure, though failing miserably as we lean on each other for the support that neither of us can grant. Sure I may be an elegant vampire of grace and incomparable beauty on land, but in the water? That's a completely different story. The gravity in the little encapsulated segment we are in is at best bewildering. There is enough gravity to keep us somewhat grounded, but not enough that we aren't half swimming with each motion of our limbs, tugging ourselves through the water with a series of propelling strokes. It is a rather uncustomary sensation, and one that Kal is particularly not fond of.
"Why can't we just be on land," he grumbles miserably, stepping out of the carriage before leaning his fingers against his temple to steady the obvious swaying of his head, his body rocking with the long passed motion of the carriage.
Poor Kal in the journey we have travelled- albeit a seemingly short one- has gone from pale white to a sickly green in a matter of minutes, and is only getting moreso. Apprehensively, I reach out to clutch his arm, holding him somewhat steady against the pull and sway of the underwater current that rips and tears at our swirling clothes like the teeth of tiny, miniature piranha.
I knew dragons didn't like water from the minute we got down here, but I never knew it affected them this much.
Moving to position herself besides up, Delina whispers lowly into a cupped hand:
"My grandmother is right inside, remember what I said and you will be fine. And please, please, do not stare."
Nervously, I gulp down my fear.
"Right," I affirm, before a realisation hits me. "Oh, right, I have something of yours. We found it on the surface, and er, figured out it was probably yours. "
Latching my fingers into my bag, I hook off the glowing crystal diadem that had sunk beneath the contents of my sachet, relieved to find it still there and in one piece. Offering it out to her in the palm of my hand, I give her a gentle nod for her to take it. Warily, Delina picks it from my hand.
"Thank you," she smiles, pleased. "I thought I had lost this for good," she admits, quickly placing it back around her head, a slight urgency in her movements, as though fearful to keep the lady inside waiting.
Noticing we have been stalling a little too long, the guards give us a gentle nudge, spears raised up in defence as they swim alongside us, the two of them smiling in unison at the three legged creatures that they escort inside. It doesn't take a genius to tell that they are troubled- well, troubled and amused- by their new guests. Whereas for most of their lives they would have been greeted by fish and fin, and a variety of blue and green hues of skin, now they are faced with two curious individuals, one with bat wings, and another who seems to exude a constant stream of golden light.
As we swim inside, they continue to glance between each other, quite unsure exactly what to do with themselves. But I can hardly blame them really. When I first arrived at the palace of vampires in Sezeria, I was the same, if not worse- gawking at everyone and anything, wondering with a lasting confusion at how I was ever going to survive such a toxic cesspit of blood and death. How ironic that now I never want to leave.
The palace itself- as I have mentioned prior, is huge. Towering some 20 meters high, perhaps more, and all the longer. We walk down a carved out track towards it, coral reefs on either side, where merfolk swim and play among the anemones and brightly coloured fish, darting in and out of cracks and crevices like eels in a cave. It is a peaceful haven, illuminated by that wondrous light that streams from the palace, and the flickering motions of round glowing fish that bob in and out of existence.
The palace itself is decorated in swirling water reeds and long, trailing white flowers, in a similar manner that the rose bushes outside the palace of Sezeria that trail up against its marble walls. It seems likely that this grand estate was made in its likeness, the same arching entrance, the same high walls and long, draping windows that overlook the exuberant array of creatures and corals. For a dank underwater cavern full of illusions and the occasional creature who seems more mutant than mortal, it is rather an idyllic scene, and one I would be content to live my days through as a flesh eating Siren renowned for trickery and illusions. In that respect, then I would suppose this place is perfect.
Kal leans over to whisper to me as we go under the arching doorways of the entrance.
"Pray we don't die here." But there is no humour in his voice.
As soon as we enter, my breath leaves my throat.
The inside of the palace is beautiful: strung up with garlands of flowers and brightly coloured coral which arch and sway along the tall walls and pillars that line the sides of the room. Lanterns hang from the ceiling from dangling strings, the inside housing some sort of glowing crystals and some type of flora, swaying graciously in the slight motion of the water. Draping blue curtains of silk and glosmere hang from the ceiling at either side of the room, causing the room to appear to tilt and sway in the current. But the most striking thing about this whole ordeal is the throne itself. Levied up on a pedestal- much like a cruel parody of the one hundreds of meters above our heads, lies a grand throne. It stretches up and out in fin-like curves, icy frozen tentacle-like structures forming the hands of it, and the feet, so that the person sitting on it looks like they are raised on a mass of swirling tentacles of ice and bone. It stretches high up towards the ceiling, tall and ominous, casting watery shadows across the room.
Of the few merfolk that mill about aimlessly in the court, many of them shrink away as we pace our way through, scattering at our arrival, desperate to be out and away from the drama that is soon to unfold. If the court of a siren has at least a fraction of the volatility of the court of vampires, then their actions are entirely justified. Anything and everything can happen down in this court, the fate of the words rests in our hands. I simply pray we have the strength enough to hold it.
"Delina," croaks a middle aged looking woman up on the throne, her hand gripped as a fist around a spectre, her pale blue eyes scanning us over, analysing.. Doing my best to portray nothing, I bury my fear. "Who are these people you have brought me?"
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Before we know it, the carriage pulls up to a halt, jolting us forward with a joint groan of pain, and by that time I realise there is no more stalling. We have arrived.
Peering outside the small carriage window, I vaguely make out a towering crystal palace, glowing with a faint luminescence that just barely manages to illuminate the murky waters around us. Primarily, it is lit by a floating array of sea lanterns that bob and weave in the current, brushing past fish and hurried merfolk and little underwater houses in a flurried array of colourful lights. Beautiful, yet entirely intimidating.
The Palace itself is huge, and even that would be an understatement. So colossal that everything around it seems built in miniature- the houses, the communal buildings, even the towering branches of green and blue underwater trees, shimmering in a dim opalescence, are dwarfed to its size. I was expecting something small, or at least reasonable in size, given the unknown size of the cavern there was no sure way of telling just how big it could be, but this palace could inhabit hundreds, if not thousands in its walls. And by the looks of things, it does. Pale, ghostly merfolk flit in and out of the towering arch entrance, swimming with long, narrowed tails in the shape of sharks or multicoloured fish, some wavy, some adorned with fins, but all of them staring, their eyes trained on the royal white carriage that has pulled up short by the maw of the palace.
I would like to stay longer, to gaze over the nerve wracking sights of the palace, or this eerie underwater haven and obtain enough courage to walk in there confident and unfazed. But soon enough, the time for looking is up, and no such luck is granted.
One of the guards pulls open a door, awaiting from us expectantly to trail out of the carriage with an impatient flick of his silvery tail. Naturally, Delina goes first, stepping out into the open with the grace and poise of any natural vampire. As she steps out onto the track, wobbling a little in the water, I quickly realise how out of place we are here- all feet and no fins, as ungraceful and disorientated as new born lambs, a far cry to the elegant wash and sway of the merfolk as they pick their way past us.
It seems I can never quite fit in anywhere.
Kal and I go next, doing our best to maintain some sort of composure, though failing miserably as we lean on each other for the support that neither of us can grant. Sure I may be an elegant vampire of grace and incomparable beauty on land, but in the water? That's a completely different story. The gravity in the little encapsulated segment we are in is at best bewildering. There is enough gravity to keep us somewhat grounded, but not enough that we aren't half swimming with each motion of our limbs, tugging ourselves through the water with a series of propelling strokes. It is a rather uncustomary sensation, and one that Kal is particularly not fond of.
"Why can't we just be on land," he grumbles miserably, stepping out of the carriage before leaning his fingers against his temple to steady the obvious swaying of his head, his body rocking with the long passed motion of the carriage.
Poor Kal in the journey we have travelled- albeit a seemingly short one- has gone from pale white to a sickly green in a matter of minutes, and is only getting moreso. Apprehensively, I reach out to clutch his arm, holding him somewhat steady against the pull and sway of the underwater current that rips and tears at our swirling clothes like the teeth of tiny, miniature piranha.
I knew dragons didn't like water from the minute we got down here, but I never knew it affected them this much.
Moving to position herself besides up, Delina whispers lowly into a cupped hand:
"My grandmother is right inside, remember what I said and you will be fine. And please, please, do not stare."
Nervously, I gulp down my fear.
"Right," I affirm, before a realisation hits me. "Oh, right, I have something of yours. We found it on the surface, and er, figured out it was probably yours. "
Latching my fingers into my bag, I hook off the glowing crystal diadem that had sunk beneath the contents of my sachet, relieved to find it still there and in one piece. Offering it out to her in the palm of my hand, I give her a gentle nod for her to take it. Warily, Delina picks it from my hand.
"Thank you," she smiles, pleased. "I thought I had lost this for good," she admits, quickly placing it back around her head, a slight urgency in her movements, as though fearful to keep the lady inside waiting.
Noticing we have been stalling a little too long, the guards give us a gentle nudge, spears raised up in defence as they swim alongside us, the two of them smiling in unison at the three legged creatures that they escort inside. It doesn't take a genius to tell that they are troubled- well, troubled and amused- by their new guests. Whereas for most of their lives they would have been greeted by fish and fin, and a variety of blue and green hues of skin, now they are faced with two curious individuals, one with bat wings, and another who seems to exude a constant stream of golden light.
As we swim inside, they continue to glance between each other, quite unsure exactly what to do with themselves. But I can hardly blame them really. When I first arrived at the palace of vampires in Sezeria, I was the same, if not worse- gawking at everyone and anything, wondering with a lasting confusion at how I was ever going to survive such a toxic cesspit of blood and death. How ironic that now I never want to leave.
The palace itself- as I have mentioned prior, is huge. Towering some 20 meters high, perhaps more, and all the longer. We walk down a carved out track towards it, coral reefs on either side, where merfolk swim and play among the anemones and brightly coloured fish, darting in and out of cracks and crevices like eels in a cave. It is a peaceful haven, illuminated by that wondrous light that streams from the palace, and the flickering motions of round glowing fish that bob in and out of existence.
The palace itself is decorated in swirling water reeds and long, trailing white flowers, in a similar manner that the rose bushes outside the palace of Sezeria that trail up against its marble walls. It seems likely that this grand estate was made in its likeness, the same arching entrance, the same high walls and long, draping windows that overlook the exuberant array of creatures and corals. For a dank underwater cavern full of illusions and the occasional creature who seems more mutant than mortal, it is rather an idyllic scene, and one I would be content to live my days through as a flesh eating Siren renowned for trickery and illusions. In that respect, then I would suppose this place is perfect.
Kal leans over to whisper to me as we go under the arching doorways of the entrance.
"Pray we don't die here." But there is no humour in his voice.
As soon as we enter, my breath leaves my throat.
The inside of the palace is beautiful: strung up with garlands of flowers and brightly coloured coral which arch and sway along the tall walls and pillars that line the sides of the room. Lanterns hang from the ceiling from dangling strings, the inside housing some sort of glowing crystals and some type of flora, swaying graciously in the slight motion of the water. Draping blue curtains of silk and glosmere hang from the ceiling at either side of the room, causing the room to appear to tilt and sway in the current. But the most striking thing about this whole ordeal is the throne itself. Levied up on a pedestal- much like a cruel parody of the one hundreds of meters above our heads, lies a grand throne. It stretches up and out in fin-like curves, icy frozen tentacle-like structures forming the hands of it, and the feet, so that the person sitting on it looks like they are raised on a mass of swirling tentacles of ice and bone. It stretches high up towards the ceiling, tall and ominous, casting watery shadows across the room.
Of the few merfolk that mill about aimlessly in the court, many of them shrink away as we pace our way through, scattering at our arrival, desperate to be out and away from the drama that is soon to unfold. If the court of a siren has at least a fraction of the volatility of the court of vampires, then their actions are entirely justified. Anything and everything can happen down in this court, the fate of the words rests in our hands. I simply pray we have the strength enough to hold it.
"Delina," croaks a middle aged looking woman up on the throne, her hand gripped as a fist around a spectre, her pale blue eyes scanning us over, analysing.. Doing my best to portray nothing, I bury my fear. "Who are these people you have brought me?"
Before we know it, the carriage pulls up to a halt, jolting us forward with a joint groan of pain, and by that time I realise there is no more stalling. We have arrived.Peering outside the small carriage window, I vaguely make out a towering crystal palace, glowing with a faint luminescence that just barely manages to illuminate the murky waters around us. Primarily, it is lit by a floating array of sea lanterns that bob and weave in the current, brushing past fish and hurried merfolk and little underwater houses in a flurried array of colourful lights. Beautiful, yet entirely intimidating.The Palace itself is huge, and even that would be an understatement. So colossal that everything around it seems built in miniature- the houses, the communal buildings, even the towering branches of green and blue underwater trees, shimmering in a dim opalescence, are dwarfed to its size. I was expecting something small, or at least reasonable in size, given the unknown size of the cavern there was no sure way of telling just how big it could be, but this palace could inhabit hundreds, if not thousands in its walls. And by the looks of things, it does. Pale, ghostly merfolk flit in and out of the towering arch entrance, swimming with long, narrowed tails in the shape of sharks or multicoloured fish, some wavy, some adorned with fins, but all of them staring, their eyes trained on the royal white carriage that has pulled up short by the maw of the palace.I would like to stay longer, to gaze over the nerve wracking sights of the palace, or this eerie underwater haven and obtain enough courage to walk in there confident and unfazed. But soon enough, the time for looking is up, and no such luck is granted. One of the guards pulls open a door, awaiting from us expectantly to trail out of the carriage with an impatient flick of his silvery tail. Naturally, Delina goes first, stepping out into the open with the grace and poise of any natural vampire. As she steps out onto the track, wobbling a little in the water, I quickly realise how out of place we are here- all feet and no fins, as ungraceful and disorientated as new born lambs, a far cry to the elegant wash and sway of the merfolk as they pick their way past us.It seems I can never quite fit in anywhere.Kal and I go next, doing our best to maintain some sort of composure, though failing miserably as we lean on each other for the support that neither of us can grant. Sure I may be an elegant vampire of grace and incomparable beauty on land, but in the water? That's a completely different story. The gravity in the little encapsulated segment we are in is at best bewildering. There is enough gravity to keep us somewhat grounded, but not enough that we aren't half swimming with each motion of our limbs, tugging ourselves through the water with a series of propelling strokes. It is a rather uncustomary sensation, and one that Kal is particularly not fond of."Why can't we just be on land," he grumbles miserably, stepping out of the carriage before leaning his fingers against his temple to steady the obvious swaying of his head, his body rocking with the long passed motion of the carriage.Poor Kal in the journey we have travelled- albeit a seemingly short one- has gone from pale white to a sickly green in a matter of minutes, and is only getting moreso. Apprehensively, I reach out to clutch his arm, holding him somewhat steady against the pull and sway of the underwater current that rips and tears at our swirling clothes like the teeth of tiny, miniature piranha. I knew dragons didn't like water from the minute we got down here, but I never knew it affected them this much.Moving to position herself besides up, Delina whispers lowly into a cupped hand:"My grandmother is right inside, remember what I said and you will be fine. And please, please, do not stare."Nervously, I gulp down my fear."Right," I affirm, before a realisation hits me. "Oh, right, I have something of yours. We found it on the surface, and er, figured out it was probably yours. "Latching my fingers into my bag, I hook off the glowing crystal diadem that had sunk beneath the contents of my sachet, relieved to find it still there and in one piece. Offering it out to her in the palm of my hand, I give her a gentle nod for her to take it. Warily, Delina picks it from my hand. "Thank you," she smiles, pleased. "I thought I had lost this for good," she admits, quickly placing it back around her head, a slight urgency in her movements, as though fearful to keep the lady inside waiting. Noticing we have been stalling a little too long, the guards give us a gentle nudge, spears raised up in defence as they swim alongside us, the two of them smiling in unison at the three legged creatures that they escort inside. It doesn't take a genius to tell that they are troubled- well, troubled and amused- by their new guests. Whereas for most of their lives they would have been greeted by fish and fin, and a variety of blue and green hues of skin, now they are faced with two curious individuals, one with bat wings, and another who seems to exude a constant stream of golden light. As we swim inside, they continue to glance between each other, quite unsure exactly what to do with themselves. But I can hardly blame them really. When I first arrived at the palace of vampires in Sezeria, I was the same, if not worse- gawking at everyone and anything, wondering with a lasting confusion at how I was ever going to survive such a toxic cesspit of blood and death. How ironic that now I never want to leave.The palace itself- as I have mentioned prior, is huge. Towering some 20 meters high, perhaps more, and all the longer. We walk down a carved out track towards it, coral reefs on either side, where merfolk swim and play among the anemones and brightly coloured fish, darting in and out of cracks and crevices like eels in a cave. It is a peaceful haven, illuminated by that wondrous light that streams from the palace, and the flickering motions of round glowing fish that bob in and out of existence. The palace itself is decorated in swirling water reeds and long, trailing white flowers, in a similar manner that the rose bushes outside the palace of Sezeria that trail up against its marble walls. It seems likely that this grand estate was made in its likeness, the same arching entrance, the same high walls and long, draping windows that overlook the exuberant array of creatures and corals. For a dank underwater cavern full of illusions and the occasional creature who seems more mutant than mortal, it is rather an idyllic scene, and one I would be content to live my days through as a flesh eating Siren renowned for trickery and illusions. In that respect, then I would suppose this place is perfect. Kal leans over to whisper to me as we go under the arching doorways of the entrance."Pray we don't die here." But there is no humour in his voice.As soon as we enter, my breath leaves my throat. The inside of the palace is beautiful: strung up with garlands of flowers and brightly coloured coral which arch and sway along the tall walls and pillars that line the sides of the room. Lanterns hang from the ceiling from dangling strings, the inside housing some sort of glowing crystals and some type of flora, swaying graciously in the slight motion of the water. Draping blue curtains of silk and glosmere hang from the ceiling at either side of the room, causing the room to appear to tilt and sway in the current. But the most striking thing about this whole ordeal is the throne itself. Levied up on a pedestal- much like a cruel parody of the one hundreds of meters above our heads, lies a grand throne. It stretches up and out in fin-like curves, icy frozen tentacle-like structures forming the hands of it, and the feet, so that the person sitting on it looks like they are raised on a mass of swirling tentacles of ice and bone. It stretches high up towards the ceiling, tall and ominous, casting watery shadows across the room. Of the few merfolk that mill about aimlessly in the court, many of them shrink away as we pace our way through, scattering at our arrival, desperate to be out and away from the drama that is soon to unfold. If the court of a siren has at least a fraction of the volatility of the court of vampires, then their actions are entirely justified. Anything and everything can happen down in this court, the fate of the words rests in our hands. I simply pray we have the strength enough to hold it."Delina," croaks a middle aged looking woman up on the throne, her hand gripped as a fist around a spectre, her pale blue eyes scanning us over, analysing.. Doing my best to portray nothing, I bury my fear. "Who are these people you have brought me?"
