Stars glittered weakly in the midnight canvas that created the clear sky, stretching across a wide expanse. There were clusters of faint and bold specks - these were the ancient stars that guided their ancestors, the same ones that had looked for them to advice. And they were there now. The ancestors lived on in these stars.
The full moon cast its glow on the grassy clearing below, silvering the land and hanging like a great luminous pearl. What it seemed to resemble that even in the darkness, there was still light. Streams of the moonlight dappled the clearing, with a cool night wind accompanying it. The air was cool and damp, with the taste of midnight. Nothing cut through the air - it was complete silence.
In the clearing stood a small, shadowed figure - a man with slumping shoulders and tired but strong eyes that glowed dimly in night. He glanced around worriedly, shivering in the inky darkness. How did he get here? Before, he had been snoring in his bed. But in a second, he had found himself in this grassy clearing. He didn't remember leaving his bed, so what explanation could there be for him suddenly finding himself in a clearing?
"Hello?" he called, hearing his voice echo across the wind. "Is anyone out here?"
There was no response, leaving the man with an uneasy feeling shuddering up his spine. He turned around, wondering where he could leave. But the clearing was surrounded with grass, and as he peered into the distance, there seemed to be no end to the land.
Silence hung thickly in the air, until a powerful voice broke it. "Welcome."
The man spun around, searching desperately for the voice. "Who's there?"
"An ancestor, from the past." In front of the man, a spirit emerged. He was also a male, with eyes that shone like the stars in the sky. His body glowed with a strange light, showing stars in his skin. Frost sparkled at his feet and glittered in his gaze. His body carried the scent of the seasons - the bitter tang of winter, the leaves of autumn, the flowers of spring, and the green of summer.
Sleek, silver hair topped his face, much like the man's hair. In a way, he looked like him, but a younger, more stronger version. Are we the same? I don't know. We look exactly alike, but I don't recognize him. He suspected that silver was not this man's hair - instead, the glow of the moon made it appear so.
"Who … who are you?" the man stammered out.
The spirit shook his head. "That is not important right now."
The man was too taken aback to challenge him. "But … where did you come from?"
"That I can answer. I am from the heavens, from the skies above." He tilted his head, smiling. "And I am here with a message."
Anxiety pricked at the man's heart. What did he do? "Is this a dream?"
"Yes," the ancestor replied, "but what I am about to tell you is as real as anything. And it is a prophecy." As the ancestor spoke, uncertainty flared in his once confident gaze.
"A … a prophecy?" The man stared at his ancestor with wide eyes. "But I'm not … wait, I didn't even know you existed. And I thought prophecies weren't real."
The spirit let out a small chuckle. "Not everything is as it appears to be, young one."
Young one? You're younger than me!
"I'm not fit for prophecies!" the man exclaimed. "I don't know what they mean. I'm useless with one. I'll never understand it."
The ancestor fixed the man with a steady gaze. "You were chosen for a reason."
"I'm … chosen?" The man paused, furrowing his eyebrows. His blood ran cold, and his bones were chilled at the words that he was hearing.
"Yes. Listen, and listen closely, because I can only say this once." The spirit padded closer to the man, until he was in his ear. The man shut his eyes, his heart beating in his chest so wildly that he could hardly hear anything else.
"What is it?" the man asked.
"A war to end all wars is coming. Behold, the day of judgement will come. For all the people will be gathered, plagued by carnage and destruction. The earth will be devastated. Only the chosen ones will stay. In the fight in the final indignation, the forces of virtue will clash with the forces of evil."
The man stood, utterly horrified by the spirit's words. He stared at the spirit, meeting his gaze in terror, but the spirit didn't say anything. Instead, he dipped his head. In a matter of seconds, the spirit's faint body began to fade, turning it transparent.
"Wait!" the man yowled, begging for him not to depart. "Please, don't leave! I have to learn more! I don't know what you mean! Please, don't leave me!"
"You will find out. You will find out." Those were the last words the man heard as the spirit faded completely, leaving grass where he had once been.
The person left stood in the middle of the clearing, bewildered, trying to sink in what was just told to him. The man stared up at the black sky, fixing his eyes on the moon and the stars. Did they hear what was said? Did they have anything to do with it?
It is up to you.
Him? But why him?
He was nothing special.
No. He was dreaming. And dreams didn't predict the future, nor did they send out prophecies.
Must've eaten too much. There was no way this was real.
But what if it was?
What if he really was the chosen one?
There was no way this prophecy could be real.
The man could only continue to stiffen, contemplating what he had heard as he stood alone in the clearing.