As your song touches upon the trident, your vision clouds and the bright blue of the sky at sea spreads before you. Dozens of families stand clustered in small groups upon the deck of a ship, and beyond them in the open sea are two similar vessels. Their voices are muted as they speak in quiet tones of mingled excitement and trepidation.

“Jorgethin is right,” you hear a man say, echoes of agreement rising around him. “The politics are too much. It is time we make our own way.”
Slowly, the vision fades.

Tenebrous and ethereal, the lore of the trident unfolds before you. Night has fallen upon the ship, and slumber touches upon the elven souls that ride at sea. Lanterns illuminate the faces of those that stand at watch, concern etched in their countenances.

“We need to find land soon,” a whispered voice says.

“We are trying,” counters another with resignation.

“If only this blasted mist would let us see land,” says the first.

Slowly, an indigo light obscures your vision.

Skeins of indigo and silver mist trickle across your vision as your voice reaches out towards the trident in song. Wane and sickly, the families lie in weary clusters of exhaustion and concern. Small ones rest in the laps of their elders, their faces sallow and their stomachs distended. Whispers rise amid them, curses to Charl and Niima for abandoning those that have been faithful. As the curses and denouncements take root, the mist eases and a cry from above heralds, “Land ho!” Slowly, the vision fades.

As your querying song touches upon the trident, your vision is filled with the sight of dozens of elven families carrying all that they possess upon a black sand beach and away from three vessels. Indigo and silver mist follows them, the ethereal element touching each and every person in turn. As the last crate is pulled from the vessel, and the last elven foot touches the island’s sandy shore, a wave swathed in shadows crashes into the ships and scatters their timbers upon the shores. The vision slips away…

As you sing to the trident, your vision is filled with dozens of faces as they turn towards the shoreline, debris littering its dark sands. Indigo eels with silver eyes swim at the water’s edges, collecting and pushing the broken bits of wood towards the shore, and as they do, a voice fills your ears.

“My children,” it says. “Come to me. I am your Salvation and will save you from the Curse of Charl, the Lies of Niima. Lay aside your weapons and know peace on Caligos.”

The vision slips away...

~*~ Thandiwe ~*~
SGM of Events