Diary of Hayden Brin
A shy human with a question
Dear Diary,
I heard the most curious tale while in the red pool last night.
It all started with Fiona’s human. She came looking for us in the bathhouse wearing an oversized towel, poor thing, shy as a human… I guess she is a human…
Anyhow, she told us she was writing an article about the sea and wanted to ask Barnivald and me why the sea glows.
This, of course, started an argument. Barnivald being a fool, as usual. I don’t know why I bathe with him if I’m honest.
He claimed it was clearly the work of magic, while I argued, correctly, that it is tiny creatures in the water that glow. I was right, of course, but he refused to accept my findings, even though I had seen them with my new looking glass.
I’m getting off-path already. Point is, the argument went on even after the human left.
An valari with a strange story
That was when a valari walked by, you know, the one that hangs out with Sejal, the one that is strange even for a valari. Yeah, that one. She overheard our argument and offered to settle it.
“Very well,” we said, “Let’s hear your conjecture.”
“This is no mere speculation,” she started and sat down between us in the pool, “I was there when it happened.”
I knew she was a bit mad already, but really? The sea has been red for what? 3000 years? And she was there, ha, I haven’t known any elf live much past a thousand.
“It all started with the plague,” she continued, “It came from the sea and killed nearly any living creature it touched.”
“We know about the plague,” Barnivald rudely interrupted. “We are both scholars. You needn’t lecture us on basic history.”
“Then you know about Escria, I assume?”
“Who?” said Barnivald, an eyebrow raised.
“She was an alchemist, if memory serves” I interjected, being only vaguely familiar with this minor figure of history, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity to one-up Barnivald.
A great alchemist with a plague
“The greatest alchemist of her time. It’s a shame you hardly know her when she is responsible for all this.” Aroish said, grabbing one of my hands with the four of hers.
“All… What?” Now it was my turn to be confused.
“Your red skin, your red sea, your entire kin. This is all her.”
“Enough with your mysticism, will you get to the point?” Barnival said.
“The tale must be told in order, if you only let me.”
So we shut up and listened to Aroish.
Escria tried desperately to cure the plague that inflicted her people. She tried all worldly cures, every plant, every elixir, but nothing worked. So she turned to magic and gathered anyone with the slightest talent for it. When they too failed, she came to me, the oracle, as I was known in that age.
I told her what I had seen, I told her no mortal could cure the plague because it was made by no mortal.
In my vision, I saw the sisters, Death and Change, make an unholy alliance and together create a plague that would end the world.
I told this to Escria. I told her the sea was the origin of the end. But even I did not know its true design.
“This is getting more far-fetched by the moment,” Barnivald interrupted, “Gods? The end of the world? What does this superstition have to do with why the water glows red?”
“Patient, young Crimson,” said Aroish, “Let me finish the story before you lay your judgment.”
A god with a will to change
When Escria came to me, she was already infected by the plague. Knowing her end would come, as a last act she set out to confront its creator.
She brought me as a guide to find Change. We sailed deep into the dark uncharted waters of the sea, to an island shrouded in utter darkness.
There we found her, Change herself, waiting for us by the edge of the water.
Escria was fearless, for she had nothing left to lose.
‘God of Change!’ she called out ‘Corrupter of time, twister of fate! You have brought the end of all things.’
‘A great change, indeed,’ Change responded.
‘But what then?’ Escria continued, ‘When Death has taken all life. When the world is stagnant. Your sister, Death, will get all she wants, but there will be no more change for you.’
‘After one change there is always another,’ Change said. ‘Come, join me in the water.’
Escria hesitated but found her resolve again and stepped into the dark water.
‘This plague you carry, even I can not stop it. For it was never meant to be stopped. I did not make a plague so that Death could end it all. I made it to seek out a spirit worthy… And here you are.’
‘Me?’ Escria said, suddenly unsure of herself.
‘You were not meant to cure the plague. You were meant to change it… To become it.’
Change reached out her hand to Escria. ‘Let the plague run its course or turn it to your own design. The choice is yours.’
“Then what happened?” I asked, realizing Aroish abruptly had ended her story.
“Isn’t it obvious? Change made Escria one with the plague. Her spirit glowed red with resolve and spread across the sea, turning the water to the cure. The healed elves turned crimson… and here you are.”
Barnivald stood up from the bath. “That’s it? Ha! I knew this nonsense would be a waste of time,” he said and stalked away.
“Is there any truth to that story?” I asked, “Did Escria really cure the plague?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
Aroish took my hand and held it to the surface of the pool, which seemed to glow ever so slightly brighter.
The more I think about it, the stranger her story seems. Though I’m resolved to get to the bottom of this.
