Ah, my friends, draw near to the fire and pour yourselves a warm cup, for June has arrived upon the shores of Mythern, and with it comes one of the oldest and most wondrous times of the year. Many newcomers to our lands are familiar with the festivals and celebrations that fill the summer months, yet few understand the ancient rhythm that guides the sea itself. Fewer still have heard the stories as they were first told, passed from elder to elder long before ink ever touched parchment.
From the First Frost until the waning days of late May, the merfolk of Mythern enter a sacred hibernation known throughout the ages as The Stilling. It is not merely sleep, mind you. It is a sacred retreat into the deepest waters of their ancestors. Beneath crashing waves and beyond the reach of mortal vessels lie abyssal trenches and hidden coral sanctuaries where the merfolk surrender themselves to healing and renewal. There, they become still as time itself.
As the months pass, their bodies harden within pearl-like cocoons, shimmering shells crafted by ancient magic and the blessings of the sea. These sacred coverings protect them from all harm while they rest. During this season, the oceans of Mythern grow strangely quiet. The songs that once echoed across moonlit waters fade into silence, leaving only the faintest hum for those patient enough to stand motionless beside the cold tide and listen.The sea does not die during The Stilling. It dreams.
The First Breath of Tide, so much to say about this time. It is one of my most treasured memories of my youth. If you find yourself walking the shoreline in these early summer days, you may witness the signs. Bioluminescent tides roll across the water beneath the stars. Enchanted currents weave ribbons of light through the surf, while shimmering bloomwhorls drift upon the waves like forgotten lanterns. It is said that this is the very moment the ocean inhales after months of silence. The merfolk rise from their resting places and reclaim the shores.
Now then…I can already see the questions forming behind your eyes.
You wish to know what happens when they return. You wish to hear of the strange shells found upon the beaches, of the bargains whispered beneath moonlit waves, and of the old covenants that bind foam to bone and sea to shore. Aye, I know curiosity well. Truth be told, understanding the merfolk requires understanding far older things. Older than kingdoms. Older than crowns. Older even than many of the oaths that shaped the lands we now call home. The Covenant of Bone and Foam is among them. But that is a story best told over another cuppa. My eyes grow tired. Return next week and sit awhile by the fire. Perhaps then I shall speak of the crafty folk beneath the waves, the gifts they leave behind, and why the wise think twice before pocketing a seashell left upon a Mythern shore.
Until then, keep your eyes upon the tides. The sea is waking.
— Theron Vaelor
The Lantern of Mythren
Keeper of the Archives
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