Farnor looked out over the shoreline from his perch. He had been atop this rock for the better part of the day and had become impatient with waiting hours ago. It’ll all be worth it, he kept reminding himself as he rubbed his fingers over the stump where his foot had been.

The whisper message from the Oracle spire had only arrived a few weeks ago and specified that it would take time for an envoy to arrive to confirm his claim. Today was only the first in a range of dates that they would possibly arrive. If he had to wait here until the last day on that missive, he would.

It had been nearly six months since he had underestimated the mortality level of a kill and had his leg severed at the ankle. Six months since a band of military brothers had taken his prize from him. Two months since he claimed it back, and one month since he used their money to hire a messenger to deliver a special package to the Orianna.

He idly twirled his javelin as he thought back on the expanse of time he had spent following the trio around as they tracked down the demon that everyone was offered rewards to hunt. It was beyond his understanding how they knew what clues to look for regarding appearances, but they had a knack for catching up with her. They were smart about their interactions with her too - unlike he had been. They tested the effects of their powers on her until they were able to form a solid enough plan to defeat her.

The plan required a large body of water – the one that he now sat beside – and a relentless barrage of attacks to keep her distracted from its existence. Once she was far enough in it, they used it to capture and bury her within its depths. Once done, they used the boulder he now sat upon to mark her approximate location from the shore.

The victory made the brothers cocky and they returned to the inn where they had been staying. It had been their home long enough for them to feel comfortable and never aware that the people they dined with each evening were his men. They suspected the poison they were fed even less.

Farnor felt that he should be somewhat remorseful about the underhanded methods in which he obtained todays’ tentative meeting, but the looming rewards quickly pushed such emotions to the back of his mind. When he showed the Orianna’s envoy the location of the girl buried in the ocean, he would be wealthier than he’d ever have imagined. Of course, there was still the possibility that he would have to prove himself the rightful winner of this prize.

He had gone back to the clearing where he had first met the lot of his troubles and searched for his missing foot. The event had been a blur at that point, but he remembered that the brothers had subdued him and cut another piece of him off before cauterizing the stump. Why had they done that? As he pondered on this, he came upon a familiar root formation that had an impossibly deep hole nearby.

With how close it was to the river, it should have been filled with water. This led Farnor to believe that perhaps it wasn’t what it appeared to be and instead was an incredibly dark amulet of some sort. The fact that he could lift it from the dirt seemed to corroborate this line of thinking, but when he flipped it over, he nearly vomited. The back was lined with the flesh that he had lost and had tanned from its interaction with the void on the other side. He would have left it in that clearing had he not realized that it was the perfect verification of his interaction with the Orianna’s demon.

Unfortunately, he had to send this item to catch the attention of the sun’s acolytes - which left him without further proof outside of what he lifted from the recently deceased trio. When this dawned on him, he searched their bags until he found a lock of silky black hair, which he assumed the brothers had cut from the demon’s head.

What good this would do him, he didn’t know.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by a young lady in island garb. Behind her was a regal woman on a taratin whose clothing radiated with her rank. She was an oracle. She was the envoy.

“Farnor?” His own name was an authoritative question on her lips.

He nodded and tried to be polite despite having only one complete leg but wound up being quite clumsy in his movements. He did not know if this was of importance to either of the women,. “Yes my lady, tis I.”

The oracle wasted no time. “And the girl?”

Farnor shambled down the rock and, using the butt of his javelin to aid in walking, traversed the packed sand to the water’s edge and pointed into the depths. “Down there, quite deep. She’s encased in ice and stored where it will not melt.”

That was all he knew of her situation having watched the brothers use the talent of their youngest to bore a liquid tunnel under the sea.

“Ah, so that’s why you instructed us to bring a water affiliate.” The envoy said as she gracefully dismounted the lizard that brought her here. “Aisha.”

The island girl took a step forward and, with a heavy sigh, took a shell and slit her forearm. She then allowed her blood to drip into the water, which moved to her whim once the red had dissipated. Aisha shot him a look but remained silent and allowed the oracle to ask her questions.

“Where do we go from here?”

This was another question that Farnor had worried over. With his limited information he could only guess and pray that the women would be able to find their quarry when they went looking. “Down there.” he said, repeating his prior gesture.

The islander turned to look at her mistress who, in turn, shot him a wary gaze. “Will you not be leading us?”

This he had planned for. “As you have seen, I cannot walk very well. I will be staying up here.”

“How did you lock her down there?”

Farnor flinched as his lack of information was quickly beginning to surface. “I had help. Help is gone now.”

That seemed to be enough for the oracle, who rolled her eyes and had her apprentice part the sea so that they could begin their trek beneath the waves. As he watched them pass from sight, he dropped to the sand and dug through his bag for the silky braid he hoped he wouldn’t need upon their return. He ran it through his fingers nervously as he waited. Much to his dismay, they returned empty handed.

“What game are you playing at here?” The envoy sneered at him while she all but drug her exhausted apprentice out of the water.

He held his hands, with the lock of hair, up in a defensive manner. “No game! She’s down there. I have proof!”

The oracle snatched the braid from his fingers and held it in her fist. “What proof is this?”

“It’s her hair…” He stammered, falling backward into the sand.

“How can I be sure? There are many people with hair this color!”

He had no answer. Farnor had assumed that the oracle would know what to do with it as he had not gleaned any clues from the brothers about it before they died. “Can you not tell?”

Calling into question her authority as an oracle of Orianna was the last mistake Farnor ever made. The oracle ripped the oligoclase pendant from her neck and held it in front of his face. A few words from her mouth and the brilliant light of name of sun burst forth from it, instantly blinding him. A short command to the exhausted Aisha and he suddenly felt himself surrounded by water. Unable to swim and unable to see, the swirling waters filled his lungs and he quickly drowned.