November 17: Miracle
Peel the silvered veiling edict
Dredge the hidden mire
Deep beneath the dirt-cake derelict
Cup the freezing fire
Stand aguard the bastion open
Sort the juxtaposed
Toss the clamshell casket broken
Shield the pearl exposed
Peek within the world-less marvel ostentatious bare,
Bind the spear you wield to service lost in gracious flair
Prompt: Something magical and wondrous is here—treasure beyond any treasure. Nothing ever witnessed is more awe-inspiring. Roll the die to determine what it is.
Vodvay the Sleeper. This slumbering thing, peculiar though it may be, beguiles a sense of protective instinct. It’s vulnerable.
Fristal Grove. A culmination of plantlife beautiful to behold. It speaks to the bees as a sentient chorus of one.
The Davnir Symphony. A beautiful noise, enchanting to hear. Can be constant, periodic, or random in intervals.
Cerradin. A forgotten relic, ancient and praised. Revered by all others nearby. A central aspect of life.
Young Kin Kreshna. A juvenile served by many. The new home caters to its every whim—though tendered guidance isn’t rare.
Zan-Zan-Zamor. A structure of power, impossible to ignore. All either submit to its radiance or avoid with yielding presence.
Write: How do the bees discover this miracle? Does it respond to them? In what ways does the miracle affect them? Are there any interactions or confrontations with it?