Page 33 of Of Blooming Embers
A group to our left joined in, their voices harmonizing with Caelora’s as their lifted cups swayed above their heads.
Dark beasts through veils shall creep,
And dreams shall rot in mortal sleep.
Unless the stone of light shall fall,
Within obsidian, night devours all.
Rhaegar and Breena joined in. And then more. And more. Seryn’s hand found my wrist again, my heartbeat hammering into her damp palm.
Lest rise Dark Reaping from the scars,
Make haste with hollowing of the stars.
Earth harvests breath and misted pyre,
And flame be quenched by blackened fire.
One shall be two, and two turn three,
To break the curse o’er land and sea.
When the final threads are fully weaved,
Only then shall Khaos be cleaved.
The entirety of the pub filled with every citizen’s shouted words, grins, and cheers peppering the final chords.
So speaks Kosmos!
All at once, the buzz of energized chatter and glasses clinking scattered around us. Of course the people of the Perilous Bogs crafted a jaunty song out of an unnerving prophecy. I shook my head, lingering unease simmering within me.
Quietly, Caelora left the musicians, settling in a shaded corner with a goblet between her palms. Looking curious and remorseful, Seryn caught Caelora’s eye. I swore the female flinched as they regarded each other, but the moment passed, and she looked away, fixating on her cup with a somber expression.
“She wouldn’t remember,” I told Seryn. “Her memories would have been erased after the Dormancy.”
Seryn sighed as we turned to the others.
“Er, well, that prophecy doesn’t sound great,” Seryn muttered, taking her hand back and clutching her neglected cup.
Rhaegar held up his fist, his thumb uncurling. “It’s a warning passed down through the generations. Every omen has come to pass. The Withering. The Ancients vanishing. The Void creatures.”
Rhaegar’s fingers joined his thumb as he listed off the omens. Breena added, “Now, the stone of light. The amber trapped in the dungeon.”
My second-in-command took a long drink from his cup as his ring finger straightened. Neoma squeezed his forearm. “We’re at the last bit finally … It’s the path to save our world,” she said matter-of-factly, her eyes twinkling with wisdom and a quiet strength.
“Perhaps.” Marek snorted. “Perhaps the Fates were bored. Or perhaps our insurrection was inevitable, regardless of their whims.”
“Enough,” she snapped. “It’s the only hope we have.” Marek sighed, bowing his head to his grandmother sheepishly, but with a clenched jaw.
Seryn leaned back in her chair, scrutinizing the older woman. “I can see why you’re their leader.”
“Oh?” Neoma’s mouth puckered.
Seryn’s head tilted to one side, genuine curiosity lining her words. “How did such a responsibility fall on you?”
“I had a lot of time on my hands. What with my husband passing on, and my daughters gone.”
