“Time for us to take over the telling of our story,” the Trident in the form of Storm spoke up.
The High Bishop felt it wisest to yield the floor. The King was less convinced this girl ought to speak without first asking his permission, but chose to allow it at this time. Not that the Trident would have cared had the King objected. Storm was already speaking.
“It is true, you humans defeated our purpose that time. For we had ceased to resent you quite so much. And then you weakened us. Confused us with the need to assimilate so many new lives, so many memories, stories, views so fast.
We needed to rest. And so we did.
But we came back, did we not?” the Trident grinned.
“Time and time again, we came back. For in the people we had touched and let live, we had left a seed. A seed that spread in your population. That flowered from time to time.
A child was born. With eyes of silver and with black curls. The silver of the sky and the black of the ground. And that child was pulled to touch the Trident.
Your punishment began again. Your torment. Your death.
You sacrificed yourselves again, and we lay dormant. Again and again.
Between the times when our seed flowered, other people came. They knew of the Power granted by the Trident to those who touch it. They wanted it to themselves, and we always used them too.
They never lasted long. These other ones. We consumed them fast.
But each and every life that touched us, changed us too. It made us more. More than we had been.
And now we have rested a very long time. And now we have gathered Power.
Now we have come to offer you a chance for peace between us. For over the passage of all this time we have come to know you as you have not known us. And we have come to accept your presence here upon our world, for you no longer harm us, nor insult us as once did.
You keep your dwellings low. Do not offend the sky. You do not dig as deep as did. You now respect the ground.
You do not pollute the way you used to poison any world that you were in.
So hear us, Your Majesty,” the Trident speaks. “Hear our one time offer of peace: You let this girl, this Storm, this Trident walk away from here unharmed. To walk among you where and as we please. In return, we shall let you live.”