Divination

Dusk welcomed in the stars in the sky above, the soft twinkling shining down through the glass domed ceiling of the tower. The table in the centre glistened, the glassy black surface rippling like the unending depths of the Isles. In the centre was the very thing Merrin had been looking for, nestled in its place right where he’d seen again and again during those endless dreams. 

Unlike those dreams, Merrin couldn’t hear the soft playful hum and long-lost melodies drifting through the air and wrapping him within its warming embrace. He couldn’t see the shifting shadows as long, elegant legs followed the dance they’d been practicing for a hundred sunless years. 

He was alone.

But he shouldn’t have expected anything more than that, he shouldn’t have expected to see the orb nestled in its resting place, illuminated by the light of the full moon, and believe that everything would right itself in an instant. Despite the fact that there was a small part of him that was hoping more than anything that it would. 

Even without the sudden fix, Merrin felt different. One of the many weights had been lifted from his shoulders, just enough that he could finally breathe without his ribcage constricting so tight he would choke. 

Merrin looked up at the glass ceiling, the years of neglect hadn’t treated it kindly. Cracks had appeared across the coloured panes, the gold gilden iron work weaving between left chipped from the weather. The sheen of magic, the rippling aurora coating each curved panel, was still there; almost invisible to the naked eye, but Merrin could see it. He could see the way it shifted at his presence, judging him, testing him. 

Ryth’s pendant was cool against his skin, the gemstones crackling in response to the room around it. 

‘One little key to unlock everything you would ever need.’ Ryth had said when Merrin had found it in Ryth’s hidden study. He’d thought that perhaps it was just another one of Ryth’s extremely forward flirting techniques. The key to his heart, perhaps. 

Perhaps that wasn’t far off, after all, it brought him one step closer to getting Ryth back, to pulling him back to himself and becoming a real, feasible thing that Merrin could touch and hold and never let go. It could be like before, with Ryth ever-present and his voice always echoing in his mind, though this time he wouldn’t be the only one able to hear it. That was the part Merrin would struggle with, the idea that Ryth wasn’t a secret that only he knew existed. Everyone would know, and everyone would have something to say.

Merrin settled into the seat perfectly aligned with the table, just the one seat that matched the sheen of the obsidian tabletop. It was more comfortable than it looked, but that could’ve been nothing more than the excitement in Merrin’s chest blurring his senses enough that everything would feel perfect.

The orb softly whirred away on the pedestal, a galaxy of purples and black swirling inside. Merrin tapped the surface, the brief touch sending pins and needles through his finger and up his arm. It looked so unassuming, but Merrin knew better.

He knew the sheer power held within, enough to power whole cities and revive the island without showing the smallest sign of wear. Just one was enough to do whatever he wanted. An army would rival anything the Empire could throw Aedria’s way. 

It was why it was so sought after, and why Merrin needed the pendant. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he took it off; total annihilation would have been an understatement. There wouldn’t have been anything left of him to identify even if someone else was able to bypass the seals and runes and traps that had been laid out along the way. 

Merrin held his hands over the edge of the orb, letting the magic flow through him. It burned through his right arm–the remnants of the vynerian crystals, still lodged bone-deep, greedily absorbing the power. It burned like hell fire, but Merrin couldn’t pull away, he hummed a melody that had been repeated so many times in just the past year that he knew it like one of his own. 

He closed his eyes, focusing on nothing other than Ryth. 

In the dark abyss of the room, Merrin thought of purple eyes and a fang-toothed smile. Teeth like shards of obsidian that could tear through flesh like it was nothing. He thought of skin as pale as moonlight that glistened and shone beneath the night sky. The clouded black marks like spilt ink painting out pointed hip bones and narrowed shoulders. 

The things he’d seen everyday to the point that he saw it more than he saw himself. Every dip and curve of a body that could stretch and snap, pull apart into dripping black strands and re-attatch like nothing had happened. An enigma of a being that was neither person nor creature, a blurred line between the two that he danced across with grace that dancers could only dream of achieving in their lifetime.

Ryth Crowthourne, Crown Prince of Aedria.

The words never left his mouth, but they summoned the feeling just the same. A spreading chill started in his chest, cold as the ice of deep-winter, and crackled down his spine. The room grew colder, and Merrin could feel the presence he’d grown so used to. He wanted to open his eyes to check, but he couldn’t, not yet. Not until the spell, the ritual, was complete. 

He didn’t know how long it would take, but Merrin would sit for a hundred years if that’s how long it took. He needed this more than life itself, and he’d waited for long enough.

The soft graze of claws against his neck made his heart race in his chest, and Merrin let himself smile, almost able to hear the soft clink of golden jewellery as lithe fingers closed around his throat. Purple shone beyond his closed eyelids, every move a deliberate tease to toy with Merrin. Both of them knew how this worked, and they both knew that if Merrin lost focus he’d simply have to start again.

No God could grant Merrin the patience to retain the level of focus he needed with Ryth so close to him, but he prayed to Vynus anyway, if only to silence the man long enough for Merrin to complete the first stage. 

‘Merrin…’ the voice echoed, so syrupy sweet that if he didn’t know any better he would’ve caved.

Shut the fuck up. Merrin thought, and prayed that Vynus would forward that message on.

The soft laughter told him that, yes, she had, and he smiled and let Ryth do whatever it was he was doing. 

Just a little longer.