Chapter One – The Prophecy
It might not be possible to accurately describe the vastness of the Forever Forest, a forest hundreds of miles long and just as wide, with trees so tall that sunlight barely penetrates through to the forest floor. Millions upon millions of evergreens so tall, they almost look like they can poke through the clouds. Millions upon millions of mighty oaks, maples, and beeches as far as the eye can see, and so much further. Few men venture into the forest, fewer still approach its heart.
Near the very center of the Forever Forest was a clearing, where a mysterious stone tower stood. Who would want to construct a tower so far from anything or anyone? That would be the business of the Conclave, a secret confederation of the seven most powerful wizards of Caliphee. This remote tower served as as a library for the senior mages to study arcane texts and scrolls, but also as a nexus for all wizard meetings.
Most of these wizard gatherings, or "magemeets" were really quite dull. The most elderly wizard, Gaspard, was prone to napping during some of these magemeets and the rest of the mages would have to talk louder to drown out the extremely loud snoring sounds. But one meeting in particular got Gaspard's full attention, as the subject at hand was not one that has been one discussed often. The familiar scent of piping-hot hibiscus tea permeated the meeting chamber, accompanied by the aroma of Wakeweed in Gaspard's cherrywood pipe.
"Well, Archmage?" A blue-robed figure with a long grey beard gestured toward a purple-draped man seated at the end of a long alabaster table. "What are your thoughts on this so-called prophecy?" Archmage Ludovicus stood to his feet and carefully gathered his thoughts before speaking. A tall, dark-complected man with a short, neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, he briefly locked eyes with each of his fellow wizards in turn, and replied in a silky bass voice full of calm and composure. "I cannot say with any certainty whether the recent events are the first signs of an impending apocalypse, or are of no concern whatsoever. But we would be foolish to utterly disregard them, Therold."
Gaspard suddenly made a somewhat subdued coughing sound, searched in his pocket for more Wakeweed but to his dismay, came up empty-handed. "Oh dear, oh dear," he murmured to himself.
"It's been an exceptionally dry year, Archmage," said Therold. "The reeves are not optimistic that there will not be enough food to last the winter." "We're in for an exceptionally brutal winter this year," chimed in Zephyrus, the youngest and only clean-shaven wizard. "I know that wasn't explicitly stated in the prophecy, but it certainly complicates things." "Indeed it does," agreed the Archmage. "But a drought and a famine were clearly predicted by the soothsayer Zaharios nearly three hundred years ago." "And the burning rains and the unleashing of the beast", added Zephyrus. "Vernon Gray is having a feast?" said Gaspard in a half-whisper. "I haven't heard from him in years. And now you're making me hungry," he added before nodding off to sleep.
"Balderdash," growled a crimson-clad mustachioed mage with dark red hair seated across from Therold. "I say we use our magic and conjure whatever food is needed to wait out this coming winter. The Conclave almost certainly the combined power to counteract any curse, army, or element that threatens Caliphee." "No, Cazal," thundered Ludovicus. "The Code forbids it. Furthermore, do not forget that we have sworn to Queen Elinor that our roles as Senior Mages are to advise and defend the crown. Nothing more, and nothing less."
Cazal sneered at Ludovicus. "Forget the blasted code, Archmage! If villagers die because WE failed to act, then that's blood on your hands, Archmage. Blood on OUR hands." Two wizards seated near Cazal began to stand, but Ludovicus quietly motioned them to sit back down. "Need I remind you, Cazal," he said in a calm tone yet with a hint of sternness, "that acting in a capacity that is not consistent with the Mage Code or the oath we swore to the Crown constitutes as treason? You do not have to like it or agree with it, but if you will not honor your commitment to the Crown and to the Conclave, then your seat here is forfeit. Do you understand?" Cazal visibly seethed in a barely-controlled rage, but sat down in deference to the Archmage.
"And what of this savior, this, this… chosen one?" asked Therold. "It is foretold that a young maiden of golden hair and two companions from a strange land would slay the beast and end the famine." "So the prophecy goes," said Ludovicus.
Yet hope shall come from outlanders three
To end the curse for Caliphee
A savior – a girl with sapphire eyes and locks of gold
Strangely clothed, yet brave and bold
With her, two companions from her world
One, a boy and the other a girl
Against all odds shall these three
End this world's pain and misery
"Of course, this could just be a false alarm," suggested Therold. "We've gone through a drought but who knows if there will be a famine." "False alarm or not, this is something we must take seriously," said Ludovicus with conviction. "Our predecessors were fools with no foresight. Caliphee is virtually defenseless, there hasn't been a professional army since Elinor's great-grandfather wore the crown over a century ago."
"It's too late to start an army now, Archmage," said Zephyros.