"The Prophecy"
A lone apprentice grows weary in the heady, incense filled observatory. His eyes droop for a moment, the kestrel-quill pen slips from his fingers, smearing ink across the yellowed linen parchment. He loses focus on the Oracle, standing in the Observatory of the Dark Hall. His eyes are open, but distant, mouth moving with unintelligible pattern.
As his eyes drop a final time, words escape from the ElderÂ’s lips, he scrambled to scratch the words, flowing in blood ink across the page
I wish you good fortune
And strength
Against challenge from others
To be influential
And want for nothing
Always in service
Here into this hour
For upon this night
They are watching you walk
Through the shadows, and sideways
Into the deepest midnight
The moon lit upon your face
Will you stand proud
Or will you falter?
For in this game of consequence
None shall be left standing
If your are not steadfast
They see you step
They count your days
And you live out the moments
One by one
Until they come for you
And drag you to oblivion
These words fill the heart of the apprentice with icy dread. He runs screaming from the Observatory, blood running from his eyes in thick rivers, staining his white robes. Dead, an hour later, he is found; the pages torn but decipherable in his cold fingers.
The Dark Council hushes the incident, but within a day, the entire Krath Order and a few among the Sith and Obelisk have heard these words. What do they mean? How will they react?
Krath
Crescents
Nobody has participated in this competition.