Prologue
The silence was broken by faint footsteps echoing across the hall.
Illuminated by a ring of burning braziers, the Mausoleum lived up to its reputation as one of the gloomiest places in the realm. Though many kings and heroes slumbered in gilt sarcophagi tucked away into the niches on the wall, shadows that clung around every doorway gave a sense of dread rather than awe and respect. Only the central chamber, lit by an eerie beam of light shining through the glassy oculus in the domed ceiling, gave any lasting illusion of safety and comfort. The floor of the chamber was decorated with an ornate mosaic of colored glass and obsidian, depicting scenes from the many lives of the emperor.
Like a ghost gliding across the air, the Oracle strode past the archway into the glimmering light.
For a brief moment, the Oracle stared up into the beam in silence. A mournful look on her beautiful face was gradually replaced by one of serenity reinforced by strong will. Taking a short breath, she redirected her gaze and scanned the chamber.
"There is no need for secrecy, my lords. We are all friends here," she called out in a soft voice.
"Are we indeed?" a low voice answered.
A figure emerged from behind one of the marble pillars that ringed the room, followed by another. Though they remained away from the light, the Oracle very well knew who they were.
"Lord General…and your Excellency the High Librarian. I am glad both of you could answer my summons in such a short notice," the Oracle bowed curtly.
"And I am beginning to wonder if I made a mistake," said the General. "Of all places…the Mausoleum? Hardly a place I want to find myself these days." The Oracle saw a pained look flashing across her colleague's face. "The presence of the dead brings back too many unpleasant memories. No doubt many of my good friends are buried here also."
"I'm sure milady had her reasons," muttered the High Librarian.
"Forgive me if our surrounding unsettles you, lord," said the Oracle. "There was very little choice in the matter. The Mausoleum is one of the few places in the realm where our ceremony may proceed undetected. I did not wish to leave any trails behind us."
The General shrugged. "We'd better get this over with quickly then. Have we all gathered?"
"I don't see the Lord Chancellor," said the High Librarian, peering into the shadows. "Shall I go back and look for him? This place can be a difficult to navigate."
"Don't bother," a tired voice issued from one of the archways. "I may have aged, but I do not yet have trouble finding my way down this wretched hole."
Despite a slight limp, the Lord Chancellor bore himself with great dignity. Though the oldest of the group, his piercing eyes spoke of great wisdom and strength that belied his appearance. With several slow strides, the Chancellor took his place in the gathering.
"Good to have you with us, your Excellency," the Oracle smiled. "Your contribution to our venture is greatly appreciated."
"Just don't let us down, far-seer. I would not have come here if I believed your cause was anything but necessary. I hope the sacrifice we are all making will pay off," the Chancellor said.
"Quite so, lord. So then, seeing you are ready, let us begin."
The Oracle turned to face the rest of her companions, her expression now resolute.
"I trust that all of us gathered here are aware of what we are about to do here tonight, and why it must be done. Not all of our kin share our sentiments towards the cause, unfortunately, and therefore have declined to join us. Thankfully, I believe that the power we have at our disposal between the four of us is still enough for the task at hand."
Three pairs of eyes watched her with rapt attention.
"As you all know," the Oracle continued. "His imperial majesty has issued a decree few nights ago, summoning the greatest magic-users across the realm to the capital. I am not in privy of his plans, but there is no doubt that the emperor is intending to attempt something drastic, potentially powerful enough to affect all of us. Assuredly, he will have the unconditional support of the High Council in this matter. Our foes are most tenacious, and will eventually overwhelm us if nothing is done."
"Whatever the purpose of the emperor's plan may be, I—along with you all—am alarmed by yet another imminent abuse of our powers. We have been so liberal with magic for too long, and I fear that we are approaching closer to oblivion by meddling with forces we never deserved to have. I assure you, my lords, there will be consequences for this affront—dire consequences that will not bode well for any of us…unless we figure out what they are beforehand and prevent them from coming into fruition."
"Under any other circumstance, a simple divination would've sufficed," the Oracle's voice fell. "But ever since the war began, a thick veil had fallen across my vision, and I find my powers simply insufficient to pierce into the future. No doubt our fall from the grace of gods has to do with it. This loss of foresight has already cost us dearly in the war against our foes."
"And that is why you solicited our aid, is it not?" the High Librarian asked. "So we can all pool in our powers and enable you to successfully perform a divination?"
"Precisely so," the Oracle nodded. "Furthermore, we are not simply planning here to foretell what will happen within the next few years. In order to properly understand the collective fate of our race, I will need to extend my vision to see centuries, even millennia ahead. No doubt, you all understand that the endeavor alone will require more effort than I alone can muster."
"We all run terrible risks just by being here," the General said gravely. "Not only has the ritual you speak of not been attempted before, but we are all defying the emperor's edicts by refusing to answer his summons. Not even our titles will protect us from repercussions after this is all over."
"Nevertheless, what must be done must be done," the High Librarian said firmly. "If none of us will care about the future of our race, then who will?."
A moment of silence uninterrupted by objections confirmed that the conspirators were of one mind.
"How have we come to this?!"
All turned to stare at the Chancellor. The usually reserved noble was suddenly trembling, anguish slowly marring his dignified features.
"For all the centuries we've lived, all the things we've been able to learn and master, we still haven't been able to deliver ourselves from damnation! Did our noble blood mean nothing to us? What madness had consumed us so that we would willingly debase ourselves in debauchery and neglect the common good? What makes us better than those beasts we are fighting, if not worse?"
The Chancellor's voice was so full of bitterness and sorrow that his companions could not help but wince at the surge of emotions creeping up their hearts. The General hung his head while the High Librarian stared off dejectedly into the distance. The Oracle, however, continued to lock her eyes with the Chancellor's.
"All is not lost, milord," she spoke in a soothing voice. "Despite our fall from grace, there is hope for our race. If we warn others with what we learn here tonight, then perhaps we could still make a difference! Not a significant one. But something we may use to start changing the culture we've been built up."
The Chancellor remained silent for a moment before looking away.
"Let us do what we've come here to do, then," he said without emotion. "We do not have any more time to waste."
Without further word, the three nobles stepped off to the side while the Oracle stooped down and painstakingly began to draw a series of elaborate circles and runes around her with small pieces of chalk and charcoal. Under the Oracle's deft strokes, fantastic curves and shapes soon lined the whole floor like an elaborate labyrinth. The entire process took longer than usual without the assistance of the temple acolytes, but the quality of the work did not suffer one bit; centuries of experience had allowed the Oracle to hone her skills to perfection. When her work was finished, the General, the High Librarian, and the Chancellor all stepped onto the outermost circle of chalk in a way that they remained equidistant from each other. All of them faced inwards toward the Oracle who stood in the middle, each of them standing roughly twenty steps away from her. The Oracle finished her work by setting down an incense bowl next to her.
"Do you really understand the risk you're about to take?" the General asked with a grim look. "There is no guarantee you would return to us alive, should you exert yourself too much; and even if you do, there is so much that a mind can take—"
"I have long prepared myself for this very moment, lord. I am not afraid to lay down my life for the good of our people," the Oracle said firmly. Raising her arms above her head, the seeress first uttered a short prayer that seemed to put her more at ease. Then, she closed her eyes and stood very still. Though he had seen the Oracle summon her powers many times, the General could not help but become tense every time. He knew the Oracle was throwing herself into the infinite ocean of magic, where her soul was feeble and even a single unpredictable disturbance could shred her entire being into pieces. Even among their kind, the power she commanded was not fully understood and was often held in awe and fear.
Nothing happened at first, and the silence was only punctuated by the regular breathing of the four companions. The General found himself staring openly at the Oracle despite his attempts to avert his gaze. He had known her for many centuries and despite her intimidating status as a member of the sacred priesthood, there was…a fond feeling towards her that he could not deny. It was not the same lustful passion that had often seized him in his youth, but a simple desire to stay near her and bask in her reassuring presence. The General wasn't sure if the Oracle reciprocated that feeling though. If there was any reservoir of feminine desires she kept in check beneath her calm and peaceful demeanor, why would she want to settle for someone who had known nothing but violence for most of his life? And even if she did have feelings, was she willing to lay aside her sacred duty to spend the eternity with him?
Sometimes, the General wondered whether his fondness for the Oracle—not the common concern for their people—was what drove him to pitch his support with this lot.
Caught up in his thoughts, the General realized almost too late that the Oracle had opened her eyes again. Those clear cerulean eyes, however, were now glazed in milky white fog. Her willowy body began to gently sway back and forth rhythmically; and with each movement a faint aura of white light began to gather around the Oracle. Her companions could feel a wave of static coursing through the air in the room. Having entered into a deep trance, the Oracle was now attempting to pierce the veil of fate beyond which lay the visions of the future.
"Ready," the General called out as he began to garner up the mana flowing inside him.
"Ready," the High Librarian and the Chancellor chorused as they did the same.
As one, the three nobles stretched forth their arms and redirected their powers inwards into the Oracle. Shimmering, translucent strands of light slowly snaked away from their fingers like smoke, and streaked into the seeress. The Chancellor's mana stream had a dark green hue, and each of the smoky tendrils seemed to pulsate with life. The General's own was golden and flowed like liquid, sparkling brightly where it caught the light from the braziers. The one coming from the High Librarian was a fainter, wispier vapor of bluish tinge. As three streams spiraled into the Oracle, the ghostly light around her began to flare brighter and threw off a few errant sparks that fell sizzling onto the stone floor. The Oracle's gently swaying correspondingly became more pronounced: her body was now rocking back and fro like a pendulum.
"How long are we to keep this up?" the High Librarian whispered out loud. "We can expend so much power before exhausting ourselves entirely."
"As long as it takes the Oracle to finish her job," the Chancellor snapped. "We stay until the Oracle wakes from her trance. Remember, we willingly committed ourselves to this. No matter how much power the ritual needs, we must provide all we can."
The General remained silent, his eyes focused solely on the Oracle's rocking form. So far, the mana discharge has been negligible, and had barely put any strain on his magical reserves. If this was all it took to help her cause, the why would the Oracle bother to enlist three of the most potent magic wielders over everyone else? As his eyes began to wander, the General suddenly noticed that their streams of mana were slowly growing larger and flowing faster.
"Something is not—" the General began to speak.
Whatever he was about to say never left his mouth. With a loud whoosh, the aura of light around the Oracle suddenly burst into a giant sphere of white fire that instantly consumed her. The explosion emanated a surge of magical backlash that sent the three conspirators staggering back. The High Librarian yelled out in alarm as the entire Mausoleum began to quake, shaking strands of dust from the ceiling. At the same time, mana began to drain from their bodies much faster than it was possible. Fueled by excess power, the sphere of fire began to expand outwards while emanating a loud, unearthly screech.
"Break off the link!" The General roared over the keening wail. "Stop this ritual at once!"
"I can't! My power is draining out by itself! I can't stop it!" the High Librarian wailed helplessly.
Indeed, the General found out that no matter how hard he tried, he could not stem the flow of mana rushing out of his body into the Oracle. His outstretched arms remained locked in place by an invisible force, while ethereal streams of energy shot of him like water gushing from a broken dam. The amount of magical energy fueling the light was…phenomenal. With each passing second, the sphere grew brighter and the otherworldly wail intensified until ears became numb.
But as the General fought to remain conscious despite becoming light-headed, he could hear another sound emanating from the brilliance, one that wasn't as loud but no less discernible. It was a heart-wrenching note that would've befuddled all, had the General not heard many of its kind often in the battlefield, each one so distinct yet so painful. It was a wail of utmost despair mixed with horror and sorrow, the signature call of those who had lost their loved ones in wars.
But there was something about this particular cry that made him weep and despair as well, as if the sorrow was somehow personal to him. As first tears streaked down his sweaty face, the General realized that the cry was coming from the Oracle herself. She lived yet! His relief dissipated as he realized the white fire showed no sign of stopping. At the rate it was growing, the whole sphere was going to consume all of them and perhaps this entire place. Stricken with dread, the General began to struggle with all his might. Through the brilliant light slowly creeping into his eyes, he could see his two colleagues likewise struggling, no doubt having reached the same conclusion.
Suddenly, it was all over. The sphere of fire disappeared as quickly it had come, leaving the magical link broken. The shrill scream abated as well, though it took quite some time for the numbed ears to register the sudden silence. Spent and dazed, the three nobles collapsed onto the floor gasping for breath. The High Librarian, possessing the least magical potential among them, doubled up and threw up violently. Painful nausea and cramps assaulted the General as he struggled to rise from the floor. He could not feel his legs, so he shakily propped himself up with his sore arms while blinking clear of the bright stars in his vision. The Chancellor was leaning against the pillar across the hall, breathing laboriously and staring straight ahead, horrified. Following his gaze, the General saw the Oracle fallen where she had been standing, unmoving. The area where the sphere had occupied was nothing but a neat crater of molten rock and glass. The entire room was otherwise silent and peaceful, as if nothing had ever taken place there.
The General gritted his teeth and grunted in pain as he half-crawled-half-limped over to the seeress. The Divination had single-handedly left him utterly drained of his magical powers. He had not felt like this in a long time, not even in all the hard battles he had fought over the past years. Still, it did not matter to him; if the Oracle was dead, then their efforts made tonight would have been in vain. With couple steps, the General reached her and gently rolled the seeress over to her back. Her eyes were closed, and bloody tears had left dry crimson trails running down her pale cheeks. But she was still breathing, albeit faintly. The ritual had not claimed her soul.
"She lives!" the General gasped. Behind him, the High Librarian uttered a short prayer of thanks.
The Oracle's body trembled lightly—perhaps roused by his words—and her eyes slowly fell open. Flecked with blood and tears, the light in those cerulean orbs told of nothing but exhaustion, horror, and sorrow. The General gently cradled the Oracle's head in his arms, and clumsily shook several loose strands of hair out of her face.
"General…" the Oracle's words were like rustling dry leaves, and the usual calmness that shadowed her every word had all but disappeared.
"Rest easy now, lady." The General hushed. "The ritual is over. You're safe now, as we all are-"
"I saw it, my lords…I saw the future."
The silence hung heavily in the air as three nobles went rigid. For a brief moment, no one dared to speak as if a single utterance would collapse the precarious peace. The General stared down numbly at the Oracle, becoming too aware of the dryness in his mouth. From what they had all seen, it was clear that the prognostication was anything but optimistic.
"What did you see, Oracle?" the Chancellor managed to whisper at last, his eyes wide with fear. "What did you see?"
Before the darkness claimed her once more, the Oracle mustered the last of her strength and uttered the words that chilled her companions to their souls.
"The end of all things…"