Charis - Divinition Pool
General Summary
As you make your way through the overgrown path, the jungle canopy above begins to part, revealing a weathered stone stairway leading upward. The steps, though still intact, are worn with age, their once-sharp edges now rounded and softened by time. Moss and creeping vines spill over the edges, weaving through the cracks like nature’s quiet reclamation.
At the top of the stairs, what looks like it might have been a small shrine stands in solemn silence, its architecture delicate yet sturdy, a testament to elven craftsmanship. The arched doorway is flanked by two statues of elven women, carved from pale stone, their forms draped in flowing robes that seem to ripple, frozen mid-motion.
Their hands are raised, palms open in a gesture of offering or supplication, but it is their faces that draw your attention. Both are blindfolded, their expressions serene yet unreadable, as though they bear witness to something beyond mortal sight. The blindfolds, once smooth, have been weathered by time and elements, small cracks spiderwebbing across their surface.
Stepping across the threshold, the air inside the shrine is thick with the weight of time—a hushed stillness that settles around you. The faint scent of long-burnt incense clings to the walls, a whisper of devotion lingering from those who once sought wisdom here.
Lining the chamber are ancient braziers, their once-polished metal now dulled with age. Ashes long cold rest at their bases, remnants of rituals long since ended. At even intervals along the walls, glow-crystals are set into delicate sconces, though their radiance has long since faded to a dim, lifeless gray.
At the far end of the chamber, a narrow staircase of smooth, worn stone descends into the earth, the steps carved with elegant yet weathered elven script. The symbols are subtle prayers for clarity and foresight, though some have been eroded by time.
The air grows cooler as you descend. At the bottom, a small circular chamber awaits, its ceiling low, designed for quiet contemplation. At its center, a raised stone platform supports a large silver basin, its craftsmanship exquisite, untouched by rust or tarnish.
And within the basin, the water remains impossibly clear, still and unbroken despite the long centuries. A strange timelessness radiates from it, and as you draw closer, realization strikes—this is a divination pool. Even after all these years, it remains untouched by decay, waiting for a question yet to be asked.
As you peer into the still water, a ripple disturbs the surface, faint at first but spreading outward in slow, deliberate waves. The basin begins to glow, a pale blue light pulsing from its depths, casting long shadows along the stone walls. Then, the vision takes shape.
The First Vision A great darkness sweeps over the land, not merely the absence of light, but a vast, consuming void that smothers all beneath it. The sky, once vast and endless, is choked with shadow, a suffocating weight pressing down on the world. Beneath that oppressive gloom, a Pegasus lies on the ground, its once-proud wings trembling. Its breathing is labored, shallow, as if the very essence of magic is being drained from it. Its radiant coat has dulled, and its eyes, once filled with fire and freedom, are clouded. It wastes away before your eyes. The vision shifts. You see the temples dedicated to the dragons and great cats, once places of reverence and power. Now, they stand as nothing more than crumbling ruins, their sacred halls deserted and broken, overtaken by time and neglect. Then, a final image—a Phoenix, its body engulfed in flame, a burst of vibrant fire—but something is wrong. The flames flicker, collapse inward, and as the fire dies down, there is nothing but ashes. There is no rebirth, no renewal. Only loss.
The Second Vision The water shifts again, streaks of red bleeding through the blue light. Dragons once again grace the skies, their wings casting long shadows over the land. You see the great cats—lithe, powerful—prowling through dense forests, their golden eyes burning with purpose. But with their return comes destruction. Flames sweep across the land, devouring cities and fields. The rivers run red, swollen with blood. The sky is alight with battle, clashes of steel, magic, and fire turning the world into a battlefield. Screams echo through the vision, voices lost in the storm of war and death.
The Third Vision Then, the vision shifts once more. You see Charis restored to its former beauty, the city shining beneath the golden light of the sun. Its streets, once filled with dust and ruin, are alive once more. People of all races gather together, their voices filled with laughter, their hands clasped in unity. The great cats wind their way through the streets, moving with the grace of old guardians, protectors of the realm. They stop to nuzzle children, to greet old friends. Above, dragons soar once more, their wings cutting through a clear, bright sky. Not as conquerors. Not as bringers of destruction. But as keepers of balance, the living embodiment of an ancient, restored order.
And then—the vision fades. The water stills, returning to its quiet, glass-like surface. The pale blue glow flickers once, twice… and vanishes. 3 possible futures. The silence that follows is deafening.
The First Vision A great darkness sweeps over the land, not merely the absence of light, but a vast, consuming void that smothers all beneath it. The sky, once vast and endless, is choked with shadow, a suffocating weight pressing down on the world. Beneath that oppressive gloom, a Pegasus lies on the ground, its once-proud wings trembling. Its breathing is labored, shallow, as if the very essence of magic is being drained from it. Its radiant coat has dulled, and its eyes, once filled with fire and freedom, are clouded. It wastes away before your eyes. The vision shifts. You see the temples dedicated to the dragons and great cats, once places of reverence and power. Now, they stand as nothing more than crumbling ruins, their sacred halls deserted and broken, overtaken by time and neglect. Then, a final image—a Phoenix, its body engulfed in flame, a burst of vibrant fire—but something is wrong. The flames flicker, collapse inward, and as the fire dies down, there is nothing but ashes. There is no rebirth, no renewal. Only loss.
The Second Vision The water shifts again, streaks of red bleeding through the blue light. Dragons once again grace the skies, their wings casting long shadows over the land. You see the great cats—lithe, powerful—prowling through dense forests, their golden eyes burning with purpose. But with their return comes destruction. Flames sweep across the land, devouring cities and fields. The rivers run red, swollen with blood. The sky is alight with battle, clashes of steel, magic, and fire turning the world into a battlefield. Screams echo through the vision, voices lost in the storm of war and death.
The Third Vision Then, the vision shifts once more. You see Charis restored to its former beauty, the city shining beneath the golden light of the sun. Its streets, once filled with dust and ruin, are alive once more. People of all races gather together, their voices filled with laughter, their hands clasped in unity. The great cats wind their way through the streets, moving with the grace of old guardians, protectors of the realm. They stop to nuzzle children, to greet old friends. Above, dragons soar once more, their wings cutting through a clear, bright sky. Not as conquerors. Not as bringers of destruction. But as keepers of balance, the living embodiment of an ancient, restored order.
And then—the vision fades. The water stills, returning to its quiet, glass-like surface. The pale blue glow flickers once, twice… and vanishes. 3 possible futures. The silence that follows is deafening.
Comments