Eldoris and the Merlune 4

Eldoris never looked at the miserable liquid before she drank it. The moon had magnified her power, as did the potion. In the light she had drawn a shard of water from its surface and turned it into a solid thing unlike ice but unlike any other earthly material. She had shaped it like a potter at a wheel, hands stretching and pushing, bending, breaking.

A tricky fae weapon of sorts. With it, she could imprison any heart she wished. A twisted kind of spell. One slash was all it would take.

The water fox hadn’t lasted three days.

A pile damp bones and scales were found on the outskirts of the city, some distance from anywhere of importance. Ethyne had of course retrieved her tooth caps and laughed melodically at a plan gone awry.

Eldoris exhaled heavily. An explosive magic burst from her. It sent glittering waves flying through the water. She had her scrying orb, but allies were one thing she needed desperately. Many more and soon- to rebuild her kingdom. Although it pained her to admit it, her little clan weren’t enough on their own. And her water creatures kept turning to vapour. If the Hag had been there to assist. Or her parents. Her sister – those lost during her kingdom’s destruction. 

Although, he was sure they would have tried to make her see reason. Simple, soft-hearted. 

Good. 

His face flashed through her mind. The wide eyes as he’d seen her home’s columns collapse, and her family take the brunt of it. Eldoris dragged the fae blade against her hand. This time it drew blood. A weak thin trickle, but blood all the same. She drew in a breath and wished the same thing she had wished for the past three years.

Now, as she studied the whorls of the forged blade, she imagined the heart it would keep. The heart it would steal, imprison just for her. She’d promised the others a solid payment – whatever the keys to his castle were worth. And whatever jewels lay within. But moving would be an issue. 

In a way, Eldoris was trapped herself. Imprisoned by the watery pool, and the cave by the forest just above and around it. There had to be a spell to transform herself again, the way she had when she’d been to the surface with him and came home smelling of sweet syrup and soft kisses. 

On the last day of Spring, one of the nixies had brought an old tome bound in weeds and rot. It had displayed runes and spells in the old language and some of them had looked promising. So Eldoris has studied each night and wielded her carved blade, willing the moon’s magic to reach through her and temporarily bind her tail. To form it into legs she could stand and walk with.