The Deep Sanctum

Morgause’s dive with the temple’s guardians must have brought her through some sunken passage, into another chamber.

She struggles to her knees, parting the sodden curtains of her hair, pulling them away from her face as she stares at her surroundings.

Sanctum, is the only word she can think of that fits. It’s a perfectly circular chamber, its walls decorated with yet more reliefs and carvings; an open pool at the centre is the only entrance or exit. With an unwelcome thrill, her eyes light upon an impossibly ancient throne of stone, its surface adorned with images of waves and tentacles.

Just like the one from my vision.

She knows in that moment, that this is exactly what the Priest intended: to plant a seed in her mind to draw her here. It’s alien intelligence singled her out, so that she’d end her journey here. That it had been able to dump its seed down her throat must have been a happy bonus.

She shivers, wiping her hands on her soaking thighs, then gasps, as she spots something else on the throne.

A silver diadem, with a blue gemstone at its centre.

She feels drawn to it. Not just by her desire for the gem’s power, and to complete her quest, but also by some strange, compelling ****. She stands, still dripping water, taking a step closer to the throne, one bare foot slapping against the stonework.

But in the back of her mind, she remembers the words of Millicent, the eldest of the witches in her long-abandoned Coven. A cranky and bitter old bat, but not entirely without her wisdom.

If a magical artefact is telling you to wear it, whatever you do - DO NOT PUT IT ON.

Morgause has seen enough villagers creep furtively into her hut with a ring or other item stuck somewhere or other, begging for help removing it, to know Millicent was absolutely on the right track.

But the lure is strong. And the diadem is oh so pretty.

This is why you’re here.

This is why they wanted me here. In the vision I was wearing it.

Which is a pretty good reason not to put it on…

She takes another step closer, lips parted in anticipation.

And a deep, bass voice echoes both in the chamber and in her mind.

“Put it on, little Witch. And become our Sea Queen.”