Lunar Elven Sanctuary, Depths of the Hollow Earth -
Eleonora's voice, as she finished her tale, was barely a whisper, laden with unfathomable sorrow. The healing cavern, once filled only with the soft light of lunar crystals and the murmur of elven chants, was now steeped in the tragedy of two Eleonoras, a sacred oath, and a terrible fall. Poimandres, a vast shadow in recovery, remained silent, perhaps one of acquiescence or simple exhaustion.
For Sorcha of the Crimson Hand and Morgana Le Fay, the confession was like a key that opened doors to previously veiled understandings. Now everything made sense. Aria's almost fanatical devotion to "Master Eleonora," her desperation to return her from the darkness of Nyx, her refusal to accept that the Eleonora she knew was lost forever—this wasn't just the blind loyalty of a student to a revered mentor. It was the deep, rooted love of a child for the only maternal figure she had ever known, the woman who had taken the name and mantle of her true grandmother to protect her.
But as one layer of mystery dissipated, others, deeper and more disturbing, emerged.
Sorcha watched the woman on the bed of moon moss. The physical transformation was undeniable; Nyx's terrifying majesty had vanished, leaving behind the softer, more elven form of Eleonora. But was the internal change real?
An oath, an adopted name, a protected granddaughter... the Red Mage thought with the cynicism forged by decades of dealing with Chaos and its practitioners. A moving story, no doubt. Perfect for inspiring compassion, for lowering defenses. But who was this Eleonora before she met Aria's grandmother? Where did this wandering sorceress come from, with the power and will to swear such an oath and then, in time, to embrace Chaos with the ferocity of Nyx? How did she end up in that hidden orphanage in the first place?
Doubt, like a cold serpent, coiled around Sorcha's heart. She learned so much from us, the Red Wizards... she learned to manipulate emotions, to use the truth as a weapon, to weave illusions. And Poimandres... that being is the quintessence of Chaos, mutability incarnate. Aren't Chaos entities masters of deception, capable of shapeshifting, of reflecting what you most desire to see, of whispering the truths you most long to hear to achieve their own inscrutable ends?
Her gaze sharpened. Her concern for Aria seems genuine, heartbreaking even. But love, in the wrong hands, can be the most powerful of chains, or the most effective of baits. What real intentions lie behind this confession, now that she is weakened, cornered, perhaps seeking a way to regain the trust of those who might help her survive... or reemerge? Has Master Eleonora truly returned, purged by Chaos? Or is this simply a facade, a new, more subtle manifestation of Nyx, a ruse by Chaos to regroup?
Sorcha clenched her fists. I must be cautious. My loyalty is now forged in a new pact, in the need for my Circle's survival. This Eleonora... she is too dangerous a variable, too unknown in her current state. I need to know who she is now, what remains of Nyx, and what she truly seeks.
Morgana, the Dark Fae Goddess, watched Eleonora with a different intensity, her ancient Fae eyes able to perceive the subtlest currents of magic and spirit. She had followed Nyx for some time, not as a servant, but as an interested observer, drawn to her audacious power and her promise of a new order born of Chaos. She knew firsthand Nyx's ambition, her calculated cruelty, her formidable capacity for deception and manipulation on a grand scale.
A tale... melodramatic, even by the standards of mortals with their ephemeral, passionate lives, Morgana thought, though a strange resonance thrummed through her Fae being. But the energy emanating from her now... is different. Nyx's signature, that maelstrom of all-consuming Chaos and primordial power that so intrigued me, is... dimmed, almost drowned, like an eclipsed black sun. What emanates from this form is... pure pain. Weakness. And that bond with the girl Aria... I feel it with a burning clarity. It's a thread of pure light, almost unbearable to behold for my eyes accustomed to shadows and twilight.
The Fae Queen frowned. But who was this sorceress before she was the orphanage's 'Eleonora,' the guardian of another's legacy? From what abyss or forgotten star did she emerge to cross paths with Aria and her grandmother? How did she reach that refuge in the Spring Woods with the knowledge and power to protect it? And these tears, this remorseful confession... are they the true regret of a soul returning to the light after a
A long, dark night, or the supreme cunning of a Chaos Queen playing her last, most desperate card to survive?
Morgana's gaze shifted to the shadowy, still-convalescing form of Poimandres. He himself is an unfathomable enigma. He claims to be the Universal Mind, the inspirer of Hermes, and at the same time, he is the Dragon of Chaos. Can such a being, or its Herald, truly 'repent' or 'change' in a way that we lesser beings can understand? Or is he simply another form, another mask, in the eternally capricious power play of the cosmos, where truth and lies are only colors on a mad artist's palette?
Morgana felt a pang of something that might be... curiosity? Or was it the recognition of a kindred spirit in its complexity and contradictions? I need to know more, she decided. The truth about this Eleonora, the one who was Nyx and the one who was before everything, is a key piece in this puzzle of gods and monsters. If her transformation is genuine, her knowledge of Chaos and Poimandres could be invaluable. If it is a fake... then she is more dangerous than ever, a serpent who has shed one skin only to reveal another, more subtle and venomous.
Eleonora, oblivious to the storms of doubt and analysis that her confession had unleashed in her two observers, had eyes only for an uncertain future, her mind fixed on the image of Aria fighting in distant Cancún. Questions about her own past, about her origins before taking the name Eleonora, hung in the air of the elven sanctuary, as dense and laden with mystery as the Hollow Earth itself. The need to know who this woman really was, and whether her apparent return to the light was a new hope or the prelude to an even deeper betrayal, was now a thorn in the heart of the precarious alliance.