Trident

The Trident is sacred. It is not to be touched. So Storm and all others have been told for as long as anyone can remember. Generations before that as well.

Just why the Trident is sacred, no one knows. Just why it must not be touched is quite unknown except... so they have been told.

Storm has never been one to accept what she’s told without question.

From the moment she finds out about the existence of the Trident, stuck in a pile of rocks on the left side of the market square in their nearest town, she does all she can to find out more about it. Asking questions from everyone she knows. Seeking out every mention of the Trident in every text.

There’s not much to be found. In fact, there is awfully little.

The only thing that people know about the Trident is that it is “sacred and not to be touched.” It’s mentioned in many historical writings, but only ever in passing, and always with a warning not to touch. Never an explanation how it got there in the market square, or why.

No one ever mentions what would happen if one actually did touch the Trident. Only warns against it.

Storm wonders if anyone anywhere actually knows. She herself wants so much to know just what would happen if she did touch it. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to resist the temptation to do so during each of her family’s visits to the Quarterly Market.

Storm makes it till the age of thirteen. Now this is quite an accomplishment. Nothing short of a miracle, really, considering what she’s like. So inquisitive. So interested in everything around her.

Two weeks after her thirteenth birthday Storm climbs the pile of rocks to the base of the Trident. She looks at it so close. Marvels at its texture. Tries to determine the material it’s made of. Dark blue. Some kind of stone? Some kind of metal? She cannot say.

Not without touching it.

She simply has to touch.

Reaching out her hand, Storm touches the Trident with the tips of her fingers. It is cold to the touch, and then…

Some kind of energy hums beneath her touch. The Trident turns warm, then warmer still. The pitch and the volume of the humming rise ever higher. The Trident is hot.

Too hot! Too bright! Too loud!

The energy explodes everywhere around her. She’s surrounded by a bright blue light, and is rising into the air.

The Trident comes free from the rocks. It rises in the air together with Storm. High. So dreadfully high.

She starts to spin.

The Trident fills her vision. It fills her mind. It fills her being. She screams.

The hum of the Trident and the scream of Storm become one.

The Trident fills her with visions. She sees... She sees… Everything she sees is lasting all infinity and is gone.

Storm falls to the ground unconscious.

The only trace left of the Trident now is a dark blue mark upon her skin. About an inch and a half tall at the exact center of the back of her neck.

With her long hair down, no one can see it at all.