With one soul so bright,
They all shall then fight.
Among the fire blooms, one is placed,
The others will know of false disgrace.
Two holding the soul’s music strong,
For melody and harmony must belong.
Find her, the one whose rich soul sings.
Find the one who will defeat false kings.
As foretold in warning since times of old–
If souls are silenced, then all shall unfold.
The lost must be found—
Souls then forever bound.
So–cast out the dark–
Two melodies shall mark
With one soul so bright
They all then shall fight.
Yet, with the purest death,
We shall win the night.
“You, Prince Cadian, are integral in this prophecy.” She moved over to a jagged wall, tracing it with her finger until it was cut and created a bloody circle. In a few moments, there were flashing lights and sparks flowing out from the blood, and then, suddenly, the whole thing lit up, and within that brightness, a passageway opened—
I would leave the dungeons of my imprisonment.
“You must remember your mission, Cadian. We all have our parts to play.” She reached out, handing me a small dagger, which glowed in her hand, chasing away even more shadows.I reached out, taking it by the hilt. She nodded, backing away. There was something about that sword in my grasp which seemed almost familiar. I shook my head and looked through the portal.
“Thank you,” I said, staring across the portal, then back to her. Most of her face was still hidden, but her eyes were alight in the glow of the portal. Before I could ask any questions about who she was, she shoved me through the portal.
“You are welcome, my prince. May the Creator bless you, Cadian.”
I let the lilting melody fade away as I moved forward in time, to the day of Emma’s parents’ funeral.
I still had dozens of questions when it came to that lady from the Dungeons of the Mist. Who was she? And why had she helped me? Focusing my mind on the present was getting more and more challenging, the closer I came in proximity to Emma. The prophecy, I knew it had to be her.
She was the one who would save our dying realm, and there she was staring up into the night sky, having no idea about who she really was or what it was that was happening to her to prepare her. Her life had been ripped out from under her. The death of her parents weighed heavy on her soul. I could see the creature of her misery, slithering within her, attempting to slowly smother out her will, her life. I watched as her blond hair moved and her blue dress softly caressed her legs in the gentle breeze. She had worn blue to the funeral, which, if I wasn't mistaken, was not a common mourning choice on Earth. Black was the typical color of respect. Did she not respect her parents? No, that could not be it. I wondered fora time, though, as I waited in the shadows, what it was that caused her to not conform to her society's expectations.
That evening, I spoke to her for the second time.
“You must be Emma,” I finally said, moving a few feet out of the shadows. She stopped walking any further and turned to look at me.
“I am,” she whispered. I could hear the sorrow in her voice.
“You are wearing blue to a funeral. I have never seen that done before.” I stared at her, curiosity in my eyes.
