🕯️Call of Destiny: Omens And Dreams (Part Three) 〰  Fantasy Story by MarvellousNightmare 〰 Aridia Cycle📜

Part One
Part Two

DISCLAIMER: the events and the characters mentioned in this story are the product of the author’s imagination.

The heavy, inky storm clouds sprawled across the sky swiftly. There was no glimpse of rain, though the thunder rumbled on and on, promising, menacing… The stuffy air was electrified with foreboding suspense; the stillness was dense and unbearable… Until a sudden cluster of lightning shattered the sky to pieces and set the sparse rock woods ablaze. The mountains trembled in an instant, swaying, bursting, and crying in stonefalls. Their gray shapes surrounded Agenit, threatening to crumble, fall, and bury him alive.

The valleys below were damp and crimson with blood; heaps of corpses could be spotted everywhere. The moans and prayers of the dying people filled the air, imploring, cursing – nonetheless, their pleas hung unanswered.

It reminded the priest so vividly of what he had read about The World’s End Prophecy, it was uncanny. Now the Moons should fall on the earth and burst into pieces, ruining the cities, seaports, temples—all they built in their blind pride. And the Deities would step down to earth, walking among mortals, cleansing the planet of sinners and rewarding the worthy ones… Did he even believe in this nonsense from the sacred scrolls? There was no time for rumination, though.

Agenit looked everywhere, desperately searching, calling for someone, yet never finding even the slightest resemblance… His head was swirling from tension, his fists clenched, until finally he gasped in recognition. She is alive! Alive!

In this crazy, terrifying madness, when death seemed to rule the world, dead, blank eyes staring at him from every point and angle, and devastation absorbing everything around, he cared for no one but her. It was her he could never lose.

Half-blood she was, or some other kind of elven descendant. Anyone could instantly guess this just by looking at the woman’s luminous, deep, almost transparent eyes, with an electric quality in them. So humane, affectionate, and at the same time so bizarrely inhuman, they were almost the exact reflection of the sky’s insanity above them.

The sorceress stood upright, raising her hands to the sky. Her inner palms, covered with intricate tattoo patterns, shimmered mysteriously with tiny blue and silver sparks; she was evidently weaving a spell.

The woman remained on the cliff’s edge, shaking, almost embraced and destroyed by the imminent danger. She was just one tiny step away from it. Agenit’s heart scorched with pain at this sight. He knew that the impact of the spell could kill her at that moment; the air was electrified, overcharged with the storm and the energy left from the battle magic that filled the space not so long ago. The sorceress knew it too. Why did she wish to sacrifice herself like this? For what?

The man wanted to catch her in an instant, to press her tightly to his chest and never let go. He had never been the romantic type, really. He would laugh at the mere suggestion. Though, right now… He couldn’t help it.

Agenit ran to her, calling, cursing, stumbling, trying to reach his beloved so desperately… Embers from the forest fire were falling on his head, and stones almost hit him several times – just a few scratches. Still, he’d give his life to save her, to stop her from enchanting this murderous spell… The signs on her palms lit up brightly. Feeling his presence, the woman turned, looking him straight in the eye, as Agenit squeezed her at last…

The unfinished spell burst, creating multiple energy currents, igniting the air around them. The power wave threw their bodies away, smashing them against the rocks, and stones fell like rain, covering them and saving them partly from the destructive, poisonous impact. In other circumstances, it would have killed and buried their bodies, but the priest created an energy shield the moment he caught the woman.

It was almost quiet now. His beloved lay in his arms, so delicate, unmoving, so cold to the touch… Was the blow too powerful for her anyway? Or was she doomed the moment she started weaving her enchantment? He pulled her even closer in dismay, unwilling, refusing to let her die…

The man continued embracing his beloved in silence, shocked and confused, until he discerned a slight movement of her head. Agenit lit up in an instant, full of hope, however it was only a silent whisper, ‘It’s the end…’ Her voice was like the rustle of tree leaves gently touched by the wind, like the soothing song of the sea tide… Or was it all an illusion, these words? Her eyes were shut tightly, no breath was heard or felt, even though he tried desperately to catch it, and only tiny currents of blood from her temple were leaving wet stains on his hands and clothes…

‘You overslept,’ Torret reproached him dryly, shaking him energetically by the shoulder. ‘Wake up, you were chosen to be part of the embassy to Delvii during the sacred gathering an hour ago. In the name of Rogterr, I’d never give you such a responsibility! I wouldn’t trust you even with washing dishes after supper. They are crazy! Crazy! And they rely too much on astrology!’

Agenit cursed silently and opened his eyes. His dreams, foreboding and disquieting, still had a grip on him. The mesmerizing eyes of that unknown sorceress, the coldness of her skin… The man shook his head, trying to get rid of these confusing feelings while his neighbor continued his unending, maddening preaching.

Torret gestured dramatically, carried by irritation, then looked back and stopped abruptly. ‘A bad sign,’ he nodded towards the sacred lamp. ‘For fire’s sake, you can’t take care of one simple thing! Every neophyte can do it! And they chose you as the embassy member! Idiots!’

Agenit silently agreed with his friend. Maybe this is a sign that the time has come? His sacred fire went out, anyway. He’d go to the mages’ guild this evening; they must accept him. There was no time to wait. The man caught a tiny movement from the corner of his eye and turned swiftly to look at the window.

A black, four-winged bird sat on the windowsill, observing him triumphantly, with uncovered malice. As soon as it noticed the man’s attention, the creature shrieked sharply, eerily, declaring the disaster.

Agenit shuddered with unease.

© MarvellousNightmare on Coconut Doesn’t Exist

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