In the beginning, the master crafters, masters of the cosmos, created one original elemental for each earth, air, water, and fire. In the alchemical fires of the Great Forge, through an amalgamation of metallurgical and alchemical practices—along with a dabbling of many others—the first elementals were realized, and thus the conception of each species.
Gnomes of the land
Undine of the seas
Sylphs of the skies
Salamander of the flames
Humans of the chaos
The crafters inhabited the aether. Leaving their creations to build a world of their own from their very essence.
It should be noted that humans came much later. And they were not forged in the same way as the elementals. They were an unexpected offspring of all species. Too many of the primary elements meant humans got none of the powers and all of the chaos. The elements nullified each other, creating a magical void within them. They could still use and cast magic, but only through [Mage]-like means, not the innate magical ability of an elemental offspring.
Grnulf was a gnome, but the Gnome, the original earth elemental, had long since left the world of the living. And death had eventually spurred the gnomish migration from their distant eastern homelands to the mountains of Olera.
She was not sure what had become of the original air and fire. The Sylph may still yet be alive. They inhabited vastly different parts of the world than The Undine.
The Salamander had always been different from the rest, for he was the only mortal amongst them. Still crafted with longevity but beautifully mortal. He burned bright before his flame was extinguished, and that same fiery disposition was passed to the species descended from him.
Water was the superior element, which she'd explain if she deigned to debate the matter.
———
Once, there was no such thing as religion and divine power—no such thing as gods.
The original four elementals were the closest manifestation of a god-like power. But they were not gods—an important distinction.
The gods came much later. Through war and grief. Hardship and loss. People looking for something more to grasp. Need and faith formed the gods. Perhaps they were beings that already existed in some higher sphere, possibly even sharing the aether space of the master crafters. No matter where they came from, they were not of this world.
Groups formed around certain ideals. That led to more organized systems of religious practice and doctrine. And those gods quite literally became. Faith realized.
Yses the Unsullied tore through the east like a tsunami. People, especially the human species, flocked to the religion. Yses rose quickly in power, for even amongst gods there was a hierarchy, a power struggle.
Oddly, their faith rarely spread beyond those continents for hundreds upon hundreds of years. Only when the sea's unrest began, and the, now, [High Priest] brought Yses worship to Olera in earnest, did their teachings truly spread beyond the eastern continents, of which there had been three.
Her realm held little love for Ysessites. The Undine did not bar her people from following their own path of faith, but she herself had faith in no god. She was more ancient than the gods, and their games made her weary.
———
High on the bluff, with a spectacular view of the ocean and surrounding coastal grasslands of the Ammarin Realm, stood a palace. It was a proud structure easily visible from any direction when approaching the City on the Horizon—which also meant anyone approaching was easily spotted from the watch tower. The palace on the rise was ornate but small if you considered it was the seat of power for all five states that made up the Ammarin Realm.
A stone curtain wall formed a half circle around the palace. It was a functional defensive wall with three flanking towers, covered battlement walkways, an outer gatehouse, a portcullis, and a drawbridge. Simple, straightforward, and relatively standard. A mote surrounded the outer wall—an expected feature of the water elemental’s palace. Since the Sunrise Court was positioned near the cliff edge, the mote followed the half circle of the wall and then emptied over the cliff's edge on either side.
There was minimal decoration, but the sandstone itself was ornament enough. Colours ranging from the lightest of beach sands to a myriad of shades of brown-infused oranges and reds. Minute crystalline flecks in the stone caught the sun, producing a glittering effect.
Much of the palace was constructed of shimmering sandstone. The inner wall had waterfalls hanging in the shape of banners, suspended in the air via magic cast by The Undine. The water banners emptied into the mote, causing a gentle river-like current. The easy current could quickly become perilous rapids should the palace be threatened.
Across the courtyard was a massive set of doors leading into the palace that featured the same wave motif that decorated the glass windows of the homes in the city.
Iskle was a primary metropolis that hosted various dignitaries from around the world. It was imperative to provide a suitable location to receive guests. Unlike many castles, though, that may run into a cellar, dungeons, and possibly one or two other subterranean levels, the palace—the real palace—went deep underwater.
The Sunrise Court, the locally dubbed little palace, hosted foreign delegates who felt more at ease above sea level. Descendants of air, fire, and chaos, by and large, stuck to the little palace. But the political machinations of Ammarin were conducted under the waters.
The palace was reminiscent of an iceberg and followed the 90/10 rule. An eye-catching sight above the water but far more magnificent below. The Undine—and yes, ‘The’ was part of her name, for that was the only name she had been given until the sea named her—felt more at home in her underwater quarters.
The primary audience chamber was tremendous, where she held her regular address to the people. The floor tile was shaped into scallops that resembled scales. Beautiful, intensely pigmented and slightly iridescent royal blue tiles outlined each scale. Inside was a melding of green and yellow; it was pearlescent because nothing less than crushed giant pearl would do for the home of the water elemental—the chamberlain was quite adamant about that.
Dual waterfalls cascaded down on either side of the dais, collecting in small basins that emptied into the ocean. The sea, incidentally, fed straight into the audience chamber as it sat just a few steps above sea level, making it comfortable for the numerous waterkin in Ammarin to attend.
The Undine proceeded behind one of four beautifully, meticulously carved pillars lining the room's back wall. There was a simple door that opened to a descending stairwell. Dimly lit. It was nothing grand, wholly opposed to the room she had left. The stairwell, while not ostentatious in design, was a testament to the high-grade materials used in its construction. The craftsmanship invested in its creation ensured it could withstand the increasing water pressure as one descended deeper into the palace.
At the base of the staircase, she came to another wooden door with luminescent runes inscribed upon it. At first glance, its design seemed similar to the sigils etched into the entrance gates. Its intricate details were only discernible to those with a deep understanding of the applicable schools of magic. A [Runewright], a rare subclass of [Mage], created this complex piece of rune crafting.
The door contained words that held hidden meanings and great significance in the world of magic—runes for standard protection measures and ones that created an airtight seal around the door. Flooding was no laughing matter in an underwater palace with full-time oxygen-breathing staff. Of course, that was only a worry if The Undine was not in residence.
As she closed the runic door behind her, Sunnli, Chancellor of the Ammarin Realm, materialized in the way that palace staff always seem to be capable of.
“They won’t be pleased, Nimua.”
He looked up from the stack of papers he usually carried around and gave her a pointed look over the top of his glasses, enhanced by his piercing turquoise eyes. He was among the few who used her ocean-granted name—an honour earned from centuries of service and friendship.
“Are they ever?”
She retorted dryly. Sunnli stepped in sync with Nimua as she continued across the metaquartzite flooring towards an enchanted lift encased in glass that could quickly travel between the different levels of the palace. If there were people about, he would have kept to a slight remove—deference to her station. She rarely insisted on such formalities from her closest officials unless the situation demanded, but Sunnli insisted on following custom in the presence of most.
Even underwater, much of the palace was air-based, provided courtesy of The Sylph, which seemed like eons ago now. Stone, metal, magic, and immense quantities of glass formed a glorious underwater palace. Wall after wall of glass, painstakingly shaped and spelled so that one could admire the sea and its creatures from almost any room.
Many species needed access to almost all parts of the palace, top and bottom. Sunnli, one of the highest-ranking officials in the realm, was one such species in need of a steady oxygen supply. There were special rooms, however—the water rooms, for one—a favourite for Nereids. The water was fully customizable: temperature, salty or fresh, stormy ocean or babbling brook. Nimua had always envied the Nereids' ability to become fully liquid.
Similar to those on the audience chamber floor, tiles decorated the palace walls—opalescent blues, accented with yellows and greens. Water colours and motifs composed much of the palace’s decor, as befitting the home of The Undine, but there were many places one could find decorative tributes to the other elements. On sea level five, an entire corridor was dedicated to remembering the gnomes.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
The lift came to a stop on sea level nine. It was darker on this floor. Little sunlight could penetrate this deep into the water; thus, the halls required artificial lighting. When the corridor was mostly empty, as they were now, the sea’s twilight zone could create an eerie atmosphere for those unaccustomed to it. Occasionally, a squid or small shark would swim close to the glass and terrify an unsuspecting visitor.
“What will you tell them?”
Sunnli produced an enchanted quill to take note of her response so he could begin carrying out her directive.
“The truth. I shall present it as a request out of courtesy, but it is not optional, Sunnli.”
Rarely did she exercise her authority over all the states within the Ammarin Realm. But this crisis demanded such.
“I see.”
They continued the rest of their journey in relative silence, with only the sound of Sunnli’s hastily scratching quill and their echoing footsteps.
Nimua considered how best to address the officials waiting to meet with her. They would not be overjoyed with the impromptu declaration and request she was making of their states. They did not have the same perspectives as The Undine. Long life had taught her much. How would she convince them of the pressing urgency when they could hardly comprehend the consequences if this threat were to remain unchecked?
It was hard for many mortals to come to terms with mortality. Eventually, one day, they would be forgotten. It may take hundreds of years, or it may only take five. But one day, they would be forgotten. As if they never existed at all. Even she could not remember everyone who had been dear to her, for time created such distance.
And now Ammarin was on the brink of the same fate. She must plan for the future. Find a way to see her realm through the looming storm.
———
The Undine’s appeal had been a poor one. Hastily prepared. She was very much aware of that fact. She had no desire to alarm her people, all those whose well-being she was responsible for—not just waterkin. It was to an end, however. She did need a skilled team to complete a quest. The quest was not to retrieve an object, though. Instead, she required a person retrieved, who could then help retrieve an object.
Nimua had intended to attract people of a particular constitution with the short announcement. The mission would be challenging, the most difficult of this era. The party must have daring and bravery. Cunning and stealth. Magnific magic and Skill. It would not be easy, oh no, not easy at all. And there would be immense danger to face. She did not desire any of her people to believe it would be otherwise. And still, they must bring together the realm's finest to complete this quest. Or all would be lost.
Though the state of all water and water beings concerned her, she had long since passed the mantle of stewardship to other capable waterkin worldwide. She was no longer the ruler of all waters, a decision the greatest of the waterkin agreed upon millennia ago. Now, her priorities lie with Ammarin. The place she came to so long ago. Here, The Undine built a home. Not for the first time in her long existence, but it would be her last home, so she hoped.
The Ammarin Realm was divided into five states that ultimately answered to The Undine. Each state maintained their own laws, people, and traditions.
It was to those five rulers, her chancellor, various officials from the different states, the high magistrate, and a few other key individuals that she addressed now.
“The time has come for action. The Astraea has sunk en route to Acari’mar. On board the merchant's vessel was none other than Roric Salla, Tamer of Seas. His Skills should have seen them through. Yet, they did not. The sea swallowed them, captain, crew, and ship.”
The room was silent. The Undine did not mince her words. The Astraea and its merchant captain were renowned. Roric, whom she was acquainted with, had Skills that could calm even the stormiest of oceans. It had made him one of the realm's most successful [Merchants]. The loss of a ship transporting a considerable shipment of export goods was also unfortunate, though the cost in lives was what distressed Nimua. That it was not an attack by marauders was very concerning. The sea’s unrest had reached Acari’mar—an important trade partner of Ammarin.
“But what are we supposed to do, Your Majesty?
The ruler—perhaps he went by the title of king, she could not remember—from Estall called out. They never knew how to address her. Granted, The Undine sounded awkward in some sentences, but she never went by any other title, yet they always tried to give her one. She was not royalty as one may think of things, no queen or empress; she was superior to those roles. But due to her removed rulership, most of these people had never had reason to meet her directly, usually dealing with Sunnli instead. Nimua was an elusive figure they did not know how to interact with. She was ancient and one of the only true immortal beings in the world. Powerful. And slightly intimidating if you never saw beneath the surface.
“We all know you looked into this matter when it first began many hundreds of years ago, Lady Undine. If you were unable to soothe the sea then, who could do so now?”
Another dignitary added. Careful not to offend The Undine by suggesting she was not up to the task. She was their sovereign, afterall, and though stories of her benevolence prevailed, it was safer to tread on the side of caution. Her chancellor was not as forgiving but provided a fine balance to her more fluid nature.
“I do not have an answer for you. Yet, I intend to find one. So again we venture out. We must find a way to save the sea or our continent is condemned like the others. To that end, I have announced that we are seeking skilled individuals to form a team. I humbly request you relay this message to your respective territories. Review any who approach you regarding the quest. Select the absolute best, we shall spare no expense for this mission. Send them to the capital, where we shall host and interview them. The team will be formed of the best sent forth. Sunnli will provide you each with a detailed memo of the Classes and Skills we are searching for.”
Many people around the room shook their heads, murmuring to their neighbours. Sunnli noted each individual.
“Our best? But what if they fail, The Undine?”
A waterkin questioned her, braver than the rest. They even received a slight nod of approval from the chancellor for using the proper address.
“That is a reality we must come to terms with, minister. But our best we shall muster, for only they have a chance.”
“That will leave us exposed. What if the Ysessites decide to take advantage of the opening?”
A reasonable concern given the state of relations between the Ysessite region of Olera and the Ammarin Realm.
“Yes, it will. But is that risk not a worthy one to assume on the eve of our doom? Furthermore, I invite them to try and move on the Ammarin Realm.”
The Undine’s smile was not a friendly one. More than one official in the audience shivered. It would be wrong to say her expression was eager but rather closer to welcoming—that of a gracious host ready to rip your heart out and eat it if you step a toe out of line.
Some apprehensive looks passed around while others nodded in agreement with her words—those who could only see the short-term risks versus those who could see the long-term benefits.
“What reassurances can you give us should we lose our best, highest level people?”
A voice came from her left. Nimua did not see who spoke, but she did not miss the challenge in their voice.
“My dear rulers of state, senators, magistrates, ministers.”
She spoke loudly, looking them each in the eye. Her voice took on a deep tone, like stormy water just below the surface.
“It is not often I exercise my authority to its fullest. I do not enjoy doing so. But make no mistake, if they fail we will all be lost. Can any of you tell me the names of the eastern continents? Anyone?”
She paused a moment, letting her words sink in. Letting the officials think on them. Did they remember the names? There was no answer.
“I walked each, once upon a time. I remember the home of earth, the great gnomes and their kin. I recall the lands built of chaos—the unique workings of humans. Do you wish for Olera to join the ranks of forgotten lands?”
——
Nimua’s first order of business was to ensure the stability of her surrounding waters and those of her allies and trade nations. The economy could not fall to ruin during this already tumultuous time. She would focus her attention on further shores if the realm’s security was achieved.
The raging sea consumed the eastern continents centuries ago, but now it was growing. Whatever catalyst upset the sea originated to the east. She did not know what, but the damage was spreading. Nimua did know how to hold it off; it was not likely to solve the crisis, but it could help buy more time.
The Undine had the regular problems any ruler of a large number of people might have. She also had capable officials and advisors to solve all but the most pressing of issues.
She cared about her people, all of them. She loved her people. She loved her city, the realm that she had built. She nurtured it all. Frequently visiting Iskle to speak with her citizen and hear their woes or watching the little Nereids learn to take their first forms. A luxury of the government she had cultivated over a considerable length of time was that she could spend less time on matters of state and more time on the people's issues.
That was not to say she shirked her political duties. They had just shifted to duties of maintenance more so than conquest and expansion. She was no longer The Undine of old. Something about eternal existence made constantly seeking power and control exhausting.
There was only one problem—well, two now—that The Undine could not solve. She was tired. Weary down to her very soul. Yes, she had a soul, thank you very much. But that was the issue, was it not? She gained the soul she had sought for millennia just to be betrayed by the one who granted it to her. Tarquin Charmant. Her greatest enemy and the one person she herself could not harm.
He had taken it. A great treasure, perhaps the greatest to exist. Her mortality. The mortality of an immortal. If it sounded confusing, well…
When she married a mortal human, Nimua exchanged her immortal existence for an immortal soul. The key, the magic needed to unlock her mortality, was stored in a gem she had since inception, but the requisite was a soul.
She never desired to live forever. It grew dull after the first couple thousand years. Her offspring flourished, even if not all were forces of good. Neirads, merpeople, sirens. And even more incredible species were born of couplings between elements. Demons were born from just about any offspring produced with a descendent of The Salamander. A demon with wings likely had a little sylph mixed in with the salamander ancestry—fire and air. The Sylph had spawned all sorts of irksome flying...things. They reproduced incredibly quickly, but many died just as fast. The life of a sylph elemental was fleeting—at least from The Undine's perspective.
The original elementals had lived long lives, and Nimua was ready to discover what came next. But before she could fully release her immortal body into the gem and thus gain her mortality, the amulet she had had the gem inset was stolen—by the one person she trusted most. The one The Undine gave her love to and married, the only one she allowed to bear witness to that monumental moment of her expansive existence, stole it.
Tarquin stole immortality from her.
The ritual was incomplete when he acted, knowing she would be too powerful to stop if he waited. When he fled with the amulet, he fled with part of the immortality that kept her body alive. The other part remained in her. Unless she could release the other part, she would remain immortal in body and soul—a fate she did not desire.
Once her great love, now her greatest foe, in an immortal standoff. As long as they each held part of the immortality, they could not harm one another without damaging what they desired most. Him, the chance to live forever. Her, the chance to die.
The necklace would have to be reclaimed if she hoped to defeat him. Yet, that was no easy task.
Tarquin fled with the amulet to the northwestern corner of Olera. From there, he built up faith in Yses the Unsullied over centuries—a god not often seen on Olera before that. Using the amulet above all else to attract the favour and protection of the god. He only made himself known when he had grown nigh untouchable, even by mortal standards. Now, her amulet lay deep below the temple or around his neck when he needed to recharge.
Nimua knew the time for waiting was over. Now was the time to make her move or let all be lost. First, muster a team. Second, rescue the thief. Third, break into the Sacred Temple of Yses. Fourth, reclaim the amulet. Fifth, fix the ocean and defeat Tarquin…
Easy as drinking water.