Hazard hated the prophecy room.
It was cold and dank and there wasn't any place to sit. So really all one could do was sit on the ground or lean against a wall. Nerissa on the other hand could not get enough of the room. Sitting tucked into a corner Hazard watched his cousin pace.
"Look here, Hazard this line, 'Die the baby, die his heart.' It is absolutely misleading…"
Hazards mind began to drift down the hall and up a flight of stairs to the kitchen. He hadn't eaten in ages. If just that morning counted as ages. Roasted fish...yum, He was a growing eleven year old and deserved sustenance.
"-Hazard. So what do you think I am trying to say?"
Blinking in surprise Hazard looked up at Nerissa's meek face. "That Bartholomew of sandwich was a sadist?"
Nerissa's face twisted up into a sour frown. "Though I commend you on your excellent use of vocabulary that is not quite what I was getting to." A dreamy look washed over her face. "Although these are records of the future, they are still poetic accounts and should be studied as such."
As she went on Hazards mind again drifted. Lunch. His hands played over the rough stones as he though. I wondered if Cook will notice if I snatch a pastry before we eat, he thought just as his fingers snagged on a seem of a flagstone.
Checking to make sure that Nerissa wasn't watching he curled his fingers under the stone and to his surprise it easily lifted. Setting the stone aside he could barely make out the faint scratched that curled into words.
"What are you doing?!" Nerissa gasped as she finally noticed Hazard was beginning to dismantle her precious room.
"What does this say?" Scratching at the left over mortar Hazard wiped the surface clean.
Stooping beside him Nerissa slowly and softly answered him.
"Soft as Silk the breeze will come,
Falling to the banished son.
Will he catch her where she falls?
Will he answer when she calls?
Hair of darkness, Eyes of moss,
Giving up the land she lost,
For a prince who ran away,
Gave an order of decay.
Mad is He, Mad is She,
The cure is found in both of thee.
But beware the lover's curse,
When one is made, another's reversed."
"This is by Bartholomew's hand!" Nerissa clapped excitedly but Hazard looked less thrilled.
Hair of darkness, Eyes of moss, the phrase ran threw his head. There was only two people he knew that fit that description. One was him and the other was his mother. A prince who ran away, that could only have been his father.
"Nerissa," Hazard began cautiously. "Who is this Prophecy about?"
"It would be impossible to know," She began cheerily before her eyes narrowed down at the carvings. She looked up at me a sad smile painting her face. "We might never know."