A Tale of the Drift

"The Tale of the Drift" - Told at low tide, when the sea goes quiet - Passed from Sailor to Sailor to remember what caused the world to drown

“You ever wonder why the sea don’t answer no more? Why the tide don’t follow the moon like it used to?”

Sit, and I’ll tell it straight - the tale they don’t teach in temples.

Before the Drowning, the world was ruled by five gods. The Sun and Moon were sisters - fire and reflection. The Land and the Sea were lovers - soil and salt. And between them all, slipped the god they never trusted: Ombrin, the shadow in the spray, the whisper in the fog - god of what lies between.

The old kings - the dry ones, land-bound and greedy - they bent the knee to the Land God, Vaerdan. Asked for golden harvests, roads that held firm, and calm for their ships. He gave it, fair and plain. But they made no offering to the sea. No song for her depths. No tithe to her storms.

Ombrin slithered through the cracks. Told Nymara, the Sea Goddess, that her lover had sold her - traded her tides like coin. Told her she’d been leashed, bound to obey calm for mortal gain.

She raged. Oh, how she raged.

The sea rose like a beast unchained. Islands vanished. Coasts broke like crusted bread. And Vaerdan - poor, rooted Vaerdan - she crushed him beneath her waves.

But anger don’t last. Guilt does.

When the world drowned and the screaming stopped, Nymara saw the truth. Saw the lie. She tried to pull it back - to still the waters, to stitch the world whole.

But Ombrin had his moment.

He tore open a hole in the world - deep and dark, like a mouth in the sea. He dragged her down into it, bound her in a place between - no longer sea, no longer sky.

That place? That’s the Drift.

Sometimes, when the fog gets thick and the gulls won’t fly, we sail too close to it. The compass won’t spin, and the tide runs backward. That’s her, I think.

Not the sea.

The Drifted Queen.

Still mourning. Still bound.... And still listening. ----- Source: Unknown