He made a sound of agreement and went in for another kiss.
She turned her head and he missed her lips, kissing her
cheek instead.
Then, suddenly, Laura was pulling away, scooting back on the
bed.
“Laura?” Marc whispered quietly, wondering if he had done
something wrong.
Sesuadra rustled in his bed and both Marc and Laura froze.
By the moonlight, Marc could see Laura’s the half-upset/half-worried
look on her face.
“Laura?” Marc tried again.
Laura looked away from Sesuadra’s still sleeping form.
She replied in a series of fragmented quiet stutters, “I am
sorry Marcus, I want to, I want to more than anything, I just—I have not been
drinking the tea—you know, and I do not think that we even should—not right
now, and Sesuadra is right over there, and we have yet to even formally enter
courtship—”
Laura stood up.
Marc didn’t want her to go.
Marc was nodding though he was unsure if Laura could see it
in the dark.
“No, no, no, yes, of course,” Marc whispered back. “Its
fine, I understand, I—I feel the same way. All is well.” He finished, not
realizing he was using that colloquialism again.
“I will see you at first light,” Laura said.
“Tomorrow,” Marc nodded, letting go of her hand as she stood
up, “goodnight.”
Laura cracked the door open, slipped through, and shut it
quietly behind her.
He fell back onto his bed and realized what he had probably
done wrong.
Laura had said
I love you.
But he had not said it
back.
IDIOT!
He chided himself.
All you could do was
grunt a sort of noncommittal yes to her.
‘I love you’
, and she was expecting you to say I love you
back! Idiot! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
It was all he could think about until he fell finally
asleep.
The next morning, after everyone had
eaten, the party was gathered together with Cydas in the main hall.
Marc and Laura said nothing of the night’s events to anyone
but they were sharing more glances and smiles with each other than before.
Marc was glad she wasn’t upset about his lack of returning
her
I love you
.
Cydas led everyone to the center of the room. They just fit
with a little room to spare. Laura stood next to Marc and put her arm around
his, gripping his hand with a slight nervous squeeze.
He looked at her and patted her hand.
The old couple and Zania stood by to watch and listen.
Cydas looked upward and said, “We have come to converse with
the stars and understand the passings of the cycles and the meaning of all
things.”
Then he placed a small relic that hung around his neck into
a slot on the floor in the center of the circle.
For a moment nothing happened. Then a light began to creep through
the surrounding circle of the middle of the room. It brightened, and suddenly
Marc felt the floor beneath them begin to move. It was a sort of magical
elevator, going down.
The elevator moved slowly and Marc watched as the room above
them moved away from them. The hole above them began to close with a shifting
of grinding gears.
Laura held on to Marc with a firmer grip.
“It is alright,” Cydas said, seeing the slight discomfort
everyone was showing, “We are not trapped down here. The opening is only closed
for protection. As with all who fight for good, the Oracle, has many enemies.”
The blue light on the platform lit up the now darkened
shaft.
They were surrounded by smooth stone wall for quite a time
as they moved downwards.
Finally they emerged into a hallway with bright magical
light.
Marc squinted at the contrast of the previously dark
elevator shaft.
The platform they were on stopped at ground level facing a
long hall, allowing Cydas to step down, the others following after.
Cydas led them to a set of large double doors carved out of
stone inlaid with gold.
“The Oracle, will meet with all of you first, in a more
general way. Then she will see you each individually, for a focused and more
physically and mentally intensive reading.” Cydas said, and then pushed open
the doors.
The illumination within the room seemed blinding, forcing
Marc and the others to squint and hold their hands before their eyes until
their vision adjusted.
As Marc was finally able to see he put his hand down and
took in his surroundings.
The room was immediately familiar in shape. It was very
similar to the room in the vision he had within the artifact Cydas had given
him to converse with the Oracle, or a part of her.
Small steps all led to the center of the room, which was the
lowest point, like before, except this time there were no curtains, no beads,
no books or artifacts or shelves. And there were no windows or even walls or
ceiling. At the edges of the room a sort of magical fog separated them from
whatever else was behind the fog and above them the ceiling rose up into a mind
blowing infinite array of stars and cosmos. It was so impossibly vast to fit in
an underground space like the one they descended in, truly a place of great and
ancient magic. At the very center of the room a large shaft of light emitted
from the ground rising up into the eternities. The light was mostly blue in
color, but of variations of blue, and it moved and shifted, almost like water
but not quite so.
Inside the shaft of light was a female figure, seemingly
naked, except for a figure forming dress about her of magical properties that
moved and flowed as serpentine as the enchanted light around it. Her hair and
skin and eyes were all blue, like the light surrounding her. It was hard to
tell her exact age.
Her eyes were closed before they came in but opened as they
entered the room.
Welcome, Marcus, Wielder of the Flame, and Laura,
Zildjin, Sesuadra, Puck, and Drake, Advocates of the Flame.
A female voice emanating from the figure entered their
collective minds. Her soft kind voice had a distinct sound to it, almost human,
and yet otherworldly.
No one answered.
All, except for Cydas, who had seen the room before, were
completely awestruck at the scene before them. Even Marc, with his advanced
understanding of his own solar system and the possibilities of space travel and
what all that meant, was impressed by the sight. Laura gave Marc’s hand a
squeeze looking up to the stars in absolute wonder.
Please, come, and sit, I have been expecting you.
The figure gestured at the empty space in front of her.
I am, of course, The Oracle.
Marc and the others descended the
steps towards the Oracle.
Cydas remained standing near the door.
I am glad you have made it.
“What do you mean, Advocates?” Puck asked.
Sesuadra, you must know this.
Sesuadra nodded. Zildjin rolled his eyes subtly.
In the War of Power, all those who followed the Wielder
of the Flame and fought for him believed in goodness and balance, and peace.
They were called his Advocates. Those who proved themselves, the closest and
most trusted of companions to the Wielder, were granted a higher title and were
called Templars of the Flame, or Burning Templars. But enough of that.
My name is Sylandria.
Marc moved to sit on the ground. Instead of sitting on the
hard tile floor, however, he felt himself resting on something soft, in a
relaxed position. He looked down and saw the mist, like that of the walls, had
appeared beneath him, and was supporting his weight.
She kept pausing before she spoke, as if she was struggling
to find the right words.
Please forgive me. The complexity of my magic makes it
difficult for me to communicate like I used to. I—forget words.
“Used to?” Sesuadra asked, he also was leaning back on a soft
bed of mist.
The others had followed Marc’s lead and were similarly
relaxing on the magical vapor.
The Oracle did not immediately respond.
I was not always the Oracle. I mean, The Oracle has
always been here, but I, Slyandria, have not.
Suddenly Marc was surrounded by
darkness followed by a bright light.
As the light receded Marc was able to make out new
surroundings around him. Somehow he could tell he was in another vision. He
could also feel a sort of quasi presence of everyone else around him, also
participating in the vision. He could sense the Oracle was showing them the
vision and that she was able to because they were so near her, the shaft of
light and the room all playing a part in her magic.
Bright light receded, leaving objects and things in its
wake. Marc could make out a hand crafted table, chairs, wooden floor, a rug,
walls, wooden beamed ceiling, an open door.
Then two figures appeared in the vision.
One was male, a young boy, fourteen or so.
It was a young Cydas.
“Please!” young Cydas was saying, his face one of distress.
Marc looked and saw the back of the second figure, a girl,
young. She wore a simple yet elegant blue dress. Her hair was long and golden,
done in a braid and decorated with beads and feathers. The girl turned. Her skin
was smooth and sun touched. Simple and beautiful gold, blue, green, and red
bracelets covered her arms and tinkled lightly as she turned to look at Cydas.
She had green eyes like pools of liquid emerald oceans.
“I must go, Cydas, I have the gift, I have been chosen.”
Young Cydas crossed the room and got down on his knees.
“Please,” He begged, “Sylandria—I love you.”
Tears came to his eyes.
She closed hers, trying to hold back the tears.
“I know, Cydas, but I must go.”
Marc’s vision was surrounded by bright light again which
faded, revealing another scene.
They were in the room they were in, but at a different time
than the present. Young Sylandria was there, being led up to the shaft of light
by a tall figure clothed in robes and a hood. It was a man, bearded and ancient
looking.
Those Cydas had greeted as Goodmother and Goodfather were
there as well, though they were younger in appearance than when Marc had just
met them. Goodmother was in the shaft of light, being helped down by Goodfather.
When the woman came out of the shifting multi-hued blue light, she was no
longer blue and her magically shifting dress disappeared, leaving her naked.
The man put a long blanket over her, covering her and putting his arms around
her. She looked exhausted but relieved, like the weight of a thousand worlds
had been lifted from her shoulders.
The robed man knelt down and looked at young Sylandria.
“The time has come, are you ready?”
She nodded.
“I am ready.”
Sylandria let her dress fall off of her and the robed man
gave her a hand and helped her into the shaft of light. As she entered, the
magically flowing dress surrounded her, hiding her nakedness.
“So it is done.” The robed man said.
Everything brightened and then
faded, leaving Marc back to his present self and out of the vision. He glanced
around and saw the others also looking around, a little bewildered.
“Can’t you leave that—that pillar of light?” Laura asked.
The Oracle shook her head.
I can, but I must not. If I were to leave I would
immediately become as I was before entering, losing all magic pertaining to the
Oracle, and once one that has entered leaves, they cannot return, it has been
tried before.
She paused, searching for the words.
If that were to happen, and another is not found quickly,
suitable to wield this power, then the magic would begin to fade, and soon be
lost.
She shook her head.
But that is not important right now.
She continued.
There is much to say, much to explain, and not much time.
“Not much time?” Zildjin asked.
She nodded.
A dark power has risen in Sulendald. You must go there as
quickly as possible and put an end to it.
She stopped to think.
I thought that I had seen enough of what I needed to,
concerning this, concerning the Crystal shards, and of Marcus and of you all. I
showed Cydas these things and sent him to find you and gather you together.
She paused, then continued.
But I have seen a vision of another Advocate of the
Flame. Laura, you know her. Sesuadra, you
will
know her.
“Who?” Laura and Sesuadra said together.
Marc felt himself, along with the
others, propelled into another vision.
He glanced around and saw chaos and heard screaming.
He was in a very large canvas tent with several rooms
separated by cloth hangings, it was dark outside.
“RUN!” A woman cried.
Kaelynn!
Marc heard Laura speak in his mind.
“RUN!!!” She screamed.
There was another girl there, Marc saw it was Kimira. Both
were in their white bedclothes, long white simple dresses, but Kimira had a
shoulder pack with a few supplies in it and had boots on her feet.
Part of the tent had been ripped through and hunched over
figures were scrambling into it with no concern of anything in their way. They
were hideous things, dripping with blood and decay, rotted flesh hanging from
their frames. Some were half armored with helmets more freshly killed and
reanimated, others were dressed in dirty rags barely hanging on their figures
along with their skin.
They rushed forward, knocking over crates and
bedding.
Kaelynn stood near the edge of the tent, a long metal candle
stick with a burning candle on its end in one hand, and a torch in the other,
both as improvised weapons. Neither seemed as if they would really do anything
to the incoming horde.
Kimira was crying, almost hysterical.
“Exalted keep you Kimira, now GO!”
Kaelynn shoved the torch into her daughter’s hand and pushed
her daughter away from her and out of one of the tent flaps.
Then Kaelynn knelt on the floor, situating the long metal
candle holder as a sort of pike in front of her, and closed her eyes, invoking
the Exalted.
Marc turned away just as the things descended upon her,
ending her life.
He felt the vision end and he was
back in the Oracle’s galaxy room.
“Kaelynn!” Laura cried, tears coming to her eyes.
Marc stood from his place and took the few steps to get to
Laura. He knelt down next to her and she opened her arms to embrace him, crying
into his shoulder.
This has yet to happen
.
The Oracle spoke.
“Come again?” Marc asked.
What you have seen is only a possibility of the future,
it has not yet come to pass.
“Why!?” Marc looked up at the Oracle angrily, “Why would you
show that to us?”
I did not mean to—
She put a hand to her face.
I did not mean to hurt anyone’s feelings. My magic, is
difficult to comprehend, it is difficult to convey. I see so much Marcus, It is
part of my calling, part of all of this, I cannot stop it. If you do not go to
Sulendald soon, Kaelynn will die, and so will Kimira. Kimira is essential to
retrieving the Crystal shards, she must be saved, she must go with you on your
journey.
Marc nodded, he knew the feeling, of being overwhelmed by
something, by the Sword of the Phoenix and all it meant.
“I’m sorry,” He said, “I just—”