Legend L – The Sunken Goddess of Aravel

More about Legend L – The Sunken Goddess of Aravel

It is said that in the sunken valley of Aravel rests a goddess whose name has long since been blown away by the winds. She is neither wrath nor mercy, neither hope nor warning—only memory in stone form. Travelers who lost their way in the twilight told of a face emerging from the mist, as large as a temple and as still as the sleep of the world. No wrath, no admonition, only an incomprehensible peace that laid a hand of light upon the soul. Elira had heard these stories, but she did not believe in miracles. She believed in traces, in paths, in the soft sigh of the earth that showed one where to go. And yet, one morning she stood at the edge of the ancient lake that shrank in summer and grew in winter, and felt the silence embrace her as if she had been expected. The mist hung low, soft as a cloth that veiled the world. Elira raised her lantern, its warm light gilding the damp rocks, and placed one foot on the cracked ground, between puddles where the sky was reflected like a shattered image. Only when she stood in the shallow water did the goddess appear—not suddenly, but as if her gaze had been resting over her all along, waiting to be recognized. A colossal head of stone and gilded surfaces, refracting the first light of day. The face was peaceful, the eyes closed, not in sleep, but in a state beyond waking. Moss covered the enormous curls that cascaded in heavy strands over the statue's shoulders. The crown, intricately forged, rose like a silent prayer toward the morning sky. No power threatened from it—only a gentle, ancient presence, holding its breath. Elira scarcely dared to blink. The lantern in her hand shimmered in the damp mist, its light spreading across the water like a liquid thread. As she drew nearer, she thought she detected an almost imperceptible hum, an echo that came not from the statue, but from within her. It was not a call, not a command—more like a response that had existed before the question. The air vibrated slightly, and Elira felt the world contract to a single point for a single heartbeat. Then she heard a voice. Not loud. Not clear. But like a memory stretched across many lifetimes. “You have come a long way.” Elira’s throat tightened. The words were not threatening, more sorrowful, as if the goddess bore the weight of countless lost steps. “Why are you here?” Elira didn’t know. Or perhaps she knew too well. Since childhood, she had felt something was missing inside her—a faint note she could never quite grasp. “I’m not looking for anything,” she said finally, marveling at her own honesty. “But something found me.” The surface of the water began to glow faintly, as if reflecting the light of the rising sun deeper than it should have been.The goddess didn't open her eyes—and yet Elira felt seen. Not as a wanderer, not as a questioner, but as someone who had always belonged where the world grows still. “Then go on,” whispered the voice, “and keep what cannot be grasped.