𝕭𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊
𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: The fate of an entire kingdom rests upon the shoulders of a young woman, the love of her life, and their best friend. Will they be able to find the strength to beat the hardships that come with that responsibility...
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📍 Somewhere in medieval Britain
⏳November, 506 AD
The 'Valley of the Fallen Kings' was a fascinating sight, to say the least. Fog covered the landscape as ages-old trees towered above the damp ground, and several large statues depicting – you guessed it – kings from the past had been forgotten by time as nature partly reclaimed them with vines and plants that sprouted from cracks in the stone.
Lancelot and I took turns in leading Falcon while Merlin constantly complained that he could 'do it' and tried to persuade us to turn back. But he couldn't even direct the dark bay equine at an easy walk, let alone endure the long gallop that we would have to do if we wanted to catch up to Arthur and the team. Besides, he was still pale and shivering. He desperately needed proper medical attention whether he admitted it or not.
Night inevitably fell upon us and we were forced to find a place to camp and rest. We came across a small clearing near a river and I took care of untacking the horses while Lancelot carried my best friend to lay him near the water so that he could drink some. Once I was done, I rubbed Dallas's forehead and kissed his muzzle before walking over to the two males, wishing to drink some water, too, as well as check in on Merlin, who wasn't looking any better.
I watched in awe as the sorcerer's hand began to glow under the water, then shared a curious look with Lancelot.
"Lancelot, Astraea," a soft female voice sounded, making me jump and scramble away from the river. The knight's jaw dropped as we watched a couple of water drops float upwards and turn into bubbles, all of them showing a faint image – an indistinct woman's face.
"What the duck?!" I wondered aloud as I reached for Merlin, ready to pull him away from the strange apparitions.
"We bear you no harm. We wish only to help," the voice then said.
"And we should believe you because..." I raised my eyebrows at the floating face. This can't be happening! I'm talking to bubbles! Bubbles!
"What are you?" Lancelot asked, looking much calmer than I was.
"We are Vilia, spirits of the brooks and streams," the voice replied as more bubbles formed in the air, "The tear in the veil has upset the balance of the world. Good spirits as well as bad roam freely. But this perilous state cannot continue for long."
The knight turned to me with a wary look and I tilted my head at him, then we returned our attention to the talking bubbles.
"Prince Arthur is riding to the Isle of the Blessed. He intends to heal the veil," Lancelot informed them.
"He will need help. From the three of you," the leader bubble replied.
"But my brother's sick. We're takin' him back to Camelot," I stated as my eyes darted towards my best friend, and they widened when I found that some colour had returned to his face as his hand continued to glow underwater.
