A Random Event Has Occurred!
Her light is everywhere, drenching the dried up creek bed, the smooth river stones, the stallion’s face. Night turns to day in the blink of an eye, and all the orchids blooms and violets and midnight-blooming flowers wither beneath its stare.
The trees swell, soaking in her magic until they rupture with the force of it all. Her magic carves a hole into each of their trunks, that gapes open like a smile back at her. Leaves turn to ash and it rains down all around them.
It should be impossible, for anything to survive her.
But the island survives her.
The wind comes in to taunt them both, spiraling like a hurricane around their bodies. It tears at their manes and it howls in their ears - and slowly, slowly, it takes hold of her light.
And it bends it until the world is no longer sure if its her magic or its own, until a spot of darkness remains like a pillar standing between them. And within that pillar, if they look closer enough (and oh how the wind tries to bend their necks, to force them to look), is a map.
They may recognize the dried up creek first, with the pair of horses standing next to it somewhere in the middle.
On one end of the stream is the ocean, waves thrashing and foaming. On the other end is a meadow made of sand, and that sand is shifting. It opens like a mouth, and something tall and legless climbs out. It coils its long body and strikes, its shadowy feature reaching for the stallion’s throat -
- But with a sigh of the wind, it vanishes into smoke, and the map made of shadows turns to ash.
We have magic, too, the forest laughs.
The trees swell, soaking in her magic until they rupture with the force of it all. Her magic carves a hole into each of their trunks, that gapes open like a smile back at her. Leaves turn to ash and it rains down all around them.
It should be impossible, for anything to survive her.
But the island survives her.
The wind comes in to taunt them both, spiraling like a hurricane around their bodies. It tears at their manes and it howls in their ears - and slowly, slowly, it takes hold of her light.
And it bends it until the world is no longer sure if its her magic or its own, until a spot of darkness remains like a pillar standing between them. And within that pillar, if they look closer enough (and oh how the wind tries to bend their necks, to force them to look), is a map.
They may recognize the dried up creek first, with the pair of horses standing next to it somewhere in the middle.
On one end of the stream is the ocean, waves thrashing and foaming. On the other end is a meadow made of sand, and that sand is shifting. It opens like a mouth, and something tall and legless climbs out. It coils its long body and strikes, its shadowy feature reaching for the stallion’s throat -
- But with a sigh of the wind, it vanishes into smoke, and the map made of shadows turns to ash.
We have magic, too, the forest laughs.
Each participant has been awarded +100 signos.
Enjoy!
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