The Sting of the Sea
From a vial so small
comes a drop that dooms all.
Or so that is the plan.
The poison proceeds through the Red Sea.
Aquatic life dives deep, trying to survive.
Some do.
Some do not.
The seawater seeps into the Outer-lands’ sandy soil.
Who will die?
Who will live?
Far and in-between—
Stopped at the Low-lands’ door
by Lowlander and Midlander hands.
What does the poison do, you ask?
No matter the being,
no matter what they breathe
or how they breathe—
The cells within the contaminated body
no longer hold the vital breath.
With your lungs full,
with your air chambers full—
comes a drop that dooms all.
Or so that is the plan.
The poison proceeds through the Red Sea.
Aquatic life dives deep, trying to survive.
Some do.
Some do not.
The seawater seeps into the Outer-lands’ sandy soil.
Who will die?
Who will live?
Far and in-between—
Stopped at the Low-lands’ door
by Lowlander and Midlander hands.
What does the poison do, you ask?
No matter the being,
no matter what they breathe
or how they breathe—
The cells within the contaminated body
no longer hold the vital breath.
With your lungs full,
with your air chambers full—
YOU SUFFOCATE.
Fates Woven in Legacy and Battle.
The Red Sea’s Wound
Once a cradle of life.Now a corridor of death.
The poison does not burn.
It unbinds.
It whispers to the cells:
Forget how to hold breath.
And they obey.
Queen Cecelia’s Vision
She saw it before it came.Not in dreams, but in vision—
clear, urgent, undeniable.
The vial was unleashed.
The Red Sea turned.
But the island did not fall.
Because she warned them.
Because they listened.
Because she led.
Lowlanders and Midlanders stood together—
not just with weapons,
but with faith in her foresight.
Most of the island was saved.
Not by magic.
By vision.
By Cecelia.
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