Prophecy Uncharted

Our story begins at the peak of the end. An end. One of a few.
One may have heard of the Book of Worlds. Prophecies condemned as tall tales written in each and every page, leading their believers to kneel before a future unknown. Promises, bah, no one can rely on promises.
It was a languorous afternoon at the deserted land of Satriani. A loud murmur gave away the cavernous localization of a gathering between the royal council. Amid the crowd, Emperor Dorrek VII and Princess Veranke exchange sharp glares and bitter words to a divergence of opinions.
— You are a religious zealot and a madwoman! Take this traitor away from me!
The loud chatter breaks into desperate cries and vehement protests. The majority stands strong, pointing fingers and repeating their leader's words, nonchalantly. Away with the traitor! Away! Away, they weep.
— Nooo!
She yanks her arms from subtle grips while her begging eyes try to pierce through the cold ones of the extreme council. Oh, but they're too wise, too old to trust the blind beliefs of a young girl. Too powerful to care about the "annihilation" of their most powerful conquered worlds.
A bedlam gradually spreads in the royal altar. Believers and impious skrulls stand against each other as the beginning of a civil war.
— She speaks the truth! – claimed the loyal members of the religious conclave named Dard'van. – She speaks the truth!
Unphazed, the skeptical ones take her by the wrists, dragging her out of the sacred chantry, followed by a horde of revolutionary battle cries.
She looks back to see the stern mien of the Emperor, hatred in her eyes, for the end would come and the salvation laid by her hands. Indeed: the male was a fool.
— You will see! A wave! It is written!
It was the last time she insisted on her vows. They wrap her into a black veil and escort her to the exit of the cave.
— A wave will come!
The doors were closed as she laid in dust and sand. A hand to her stomach, for she carried more than "empty hopes". What an end for the messiah to the ancient prophecy and her followers; condemned for heretic acts. She insisted that a wave of annihilation was coming to swallow their homes, but the skepticism remained strong. As a last act, Emperor Dorrek VII exiled Veranke in the desert of Satriani.
Little did he know... he was indeed a fool.

"A wave of destruction, nothingness. And out of nothingness will you outstretch your hand and take in that which needs you."

The remaining members of the council wander around an even more desert environment until reaching a small hideout.
— The Skrull homeworld has been destroyed and the armada is close to ruins.
— Then the scripture was right.
Exchanging glares between their own, it is of obvious demand they kneel before her, lowering their heads in shame. For she was right, and the Skrulls were no more.
— Yes, your excellence.
She lifts her chin when stepping out of the shadows. Her body is smaller, her skin is dry; a small package lays wrapped by that same black veil, carried with delicacy on weakened arms. It whimpers at her mother's gentlest move. They stare, although trying not to. Her followers approach, hoods covering their bald heads.
— And now you come back to me.
Tensing their muscles, the Skrull warriors agree in unison.
— Yes, my queen.
Kl'rt, a standing warrior on the background, lifts his head to eye the queen and the baby in her arms.
She merely nods.
— Let us open the doors to the blue planet.

To be continued...