Keeper of the Clot

Under the four crescents they were unstoppable, even Raeku could not capture a single one. His branches were laden with fatigue, the lack of sunlight left him powerless, watching his lands in doldrums. Wings tickered against the still air of the Damp; a moist bog where the Vines were present through both soil and brush -- Spying by the drupelets that were their eyes. They weren’t one with the Root like the other flora, making it difficult for Raeku to obtain their knowledge of Imp commune.

“It has been decided!”

Claimed a hoarse voice amidst the drove of Imps hovering above the murky waters of the Damp. The crowd shouted their objections, but the elder speaking would speak last. Squeezing past the gray and black leafy bodies and to the center of the gathering, a small imp moved with haste.

“Enough! The Keeper of the Clot is --”

“Edu! Edu! I found it!" Shoving past the remaining crowd and into a small opening was a small imp, a youth of her kind.

The elder's eyes opened and is boney third finger pointed at his choice,

"Lye?" His tone was puzzled but his decision was made.

The crowd broke in a fit of rage, unhappy with the choice by their leader,

“She is a child, how would the Damp even allow it!?”

“This is a mistake!”

The others contested, but they went silent at the raised hand of Edu, his beady eyes turned to his grandaughter of many,

“The Damp shall have the final say.... Cast your silk to the murky my dear.”

Each Imp wore silk around their waist, as a tool to determine their purpose in the Crevasse. Lye received her silk just days ago from the Glowurm. After her trials she returned with the longest strand ever seen; it coiled her body many times over. Now she offered it to the Damp.

The crowd watched as their impling fished for her purpose, years before any Imp Lye’s age would have the burden. Her frail hands fed the gleaming strand into the waters, shaking with each give. The strange fluorescent silk shimmered against the water. Time was absent and the nerves of the Imp folk were without ease. The Vines slivered from tree and dirt with meager strength to witness the Imp’s fate.

Lye felt a tug, she glared at her folk, their eyes widened. Their stances shifted back with the next tug, the fear of fate left them cautious and bewildered. With the blinks of their eyes she was ripped into the murky. The yelp from the young Imp lingered strangely in the eerie stillness that remained.

The End

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