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My mind was racing as fast as my pulse had earlier. The argument raged in my head and I knew sleep would elude me. I headed for the temple, desperate to find a few moments of peace.
With dawn still a few hours away, the interior was dark and quiet as a tomb. Flickering torches set high on the walls cast tiny pools of light, hardly enough to dispel the darkness. For once, no strange chants, no primitive drumbeats broke the stillness.
I made my way to a circle of pale light on the stone floor in the middle of the cavernous space, where the roof of the dome opened to the heavens, and looked up. There they were, shining in the night sky. Our beacons. Our protectors. The Seven Stars. Though I could only see three from where I stood, it was a comfort to know they were there. To know the world as I knew it had not completely disappeared over the last few days.
I thought back to my first visit to the temple, also at night. My vizier and dear friend Antonius brought me to this place right after my coronation. He said now that my father was dead and I’d become the reigning monarch, I needed to meet the oracle and hear her dark Prophecy. Discover the threat to our kingdom that had haunted my ancestors for centuries – and learn the part I was destined to play.
I stepped through a pair of bronze doors, each as tall as three grown men standing atop each other. The interior was a cold, cavernous space, lit by flickering torches that threw strange shadows on the stone walls.
The space was empty, except for a raised dais sitting under the domed ceiling. Enormous bronze braziers stood at the four corners of the dais, each as high as my waist, piled with burning chunks of fragrant amber-colored incense. The exotic scent was unfamiliar to me. The smoke it gave off drifted toward the opening in the dome, partially obscuring the dais with a gray-white haze. Four wide stone steps led to an ancient wooden throne placed squarely in its center, grander and more ornate than the one I inherited along with my title.
A tiny figure, no bigger than a child, sat on the throne. I couldn’t see her clearly in the gloom, but I assumed it was the oracle. As I drew nearer, I realized she wasn’t as small as I’d thought. The size of her throne would have dwarfed a grown man. Like everything else in this place, it was huge, though because of the scale of the building, I didn’t appreciate how big it was until I got near it.
Pale moonlight shone down on her from the opening in the dome. At first I thought it was a trick of the light, but as I drew closer I realized her hair shimmered. It flowed over her shoulders and down her back, long wavy locks of silver shot through with iridescent strands of violet and amethyst and deep purple, shades of blue from dark sapphire to turquoise. The colors moved in sparkling waves, lighting up and then flowing from the top of her head to the wisps curling around her breasts. It was pure magic. Mesmerizing.
Instead of regal golden robes or vibrant silk, she wore a shapeless full-length garment in a dull-gray hue. But then, if I had a headdress as spectacular as hers, I wouldn’t want my gown to detract from the show. I wondered how she’d pulled off the illusion.
When I drew nearer, I could see her face clearly. It was impossible to tell her age. She could have been forty. Sixty. Eighty. Her skin was creamy white, nearly translucent. Her brow was unlined, but I thought I saw tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. She’d pulled off another trick there. As she turned her head to watch me approach, her eyes changed color just as her hair did. First deep purple, followed by warm lilac, then morphing through every shade of blue.
I refused to be dazzled by parlor tricks and looked closer. Her eyelids were dusted with silver. Perhaps that was how she did it. The powder must have reflected the lights in her hair onto her eyes, giving the illusion of colors that shifted through a spectrum. Still, from a purely feminine point of view, I was impressed. She’d be the star of any royal ball she attended.
The oracle fixed her eyes on me. Then the brilliantly colored irises rolled back in her head. She stood up, lifted her hands to the heavens, and swirled them through the clouds of incense. I blinked and looked again. I could have sworn I saw figures taking shape in the haze, as though she’d conjured them out of the smoke.
She threw her head back and chanted in a language I couldn’t understand. It must have been a trick of the acoustics in the building, echoes off the stone walls perhaps, because it sounded as though her voice was joined by others, one after another, until the temple filled with a choir, all chanting the same haunting rhythm.
The music vibrated throughout the room, into my very soul. I didn’t recognize the melody or the words, but I felt as if the primeval part of my brain knew the chant. As if some remnant of my ancestral memory had heard it before.
Gradually, beneath the song, I made out other sounds. Bare whispers at first, like the faint voices you swear you hear coming from the next room when you’re all alone in the dark of night. Smoke filled the air and with every breath I took, I felt as if I was falling under a spell. One part of my mind wondered if she’d put some sort of mind-altering herb into the braziers to burn along with the incense, while the other part tried to make out what they were saying.
The voices grew louder, all talking at once. A babble of noise. The volume rose. There were shouts and wild cries. Figures emerged from the haze all around me. First faceless warriors then dark beings. They swirled together, and I heard the clang of sword against sword. The screams of dying men.
Suddenly, all sound ceased. Flames shot up out of the braziers. In a sonorous voice, the oracle spoke my language once again.
“It has begun. The Lord of Darkness has awakened. A thousand years he slumbered, chained in his cave by a magic spell cast by the Woman Clothed in the Sun and her valiant mates. But the spell grows weak. His time of rest has only made him more determined to seek revenge. Even now, his followers are uniting to break the chains that bind him.
“A king will die before his time, no human hand raised against him. He leaves behind his heir, the Woman Who Commands the Seven Stars.
“Great evil will be unleashed upon his death. The Dark Lord’s followers will declare war on the kingdom. Pain and misery descend upon the land. The Lord of Darkness will rule our World–unless the One who has been chosen by the Goddess discovers the secret to defeating the evil lord.”
The oracle turned her sightless eyes on me, pointing a gnarled finger. “You!” Her voice boomed out. “You are the One. The Woman Who Commands the Seven Stars. Your fate is sealed. You must take up the Quest. Find the sacred sources. Only you can defeat the Lord of Darkness and send him back to his lair for all eternity.”
She walked to the edge of the dais, her hands outstretched.
“In her mercy, the Goddess grants you four valiant souls to join you on your Quest. Four brave and loyal mates who will unite with you to battle the Lord of Darkness. Each one has a special gift – but each one bears a crushing burden. Only when you lift his burden can he come to your aid.”
The oracle started down the stairs, the strands of her luminous hair flowing behind her. One step at a time, stopping on each one to utter another line.
“First will come the Fire Born. The Dragon Lord. He who is both a beautiful young man and a terrible beast. It is his gift and his burden. For only when he masters the dragon within can he save you.”
The Fire Born. As she spoke, a male figure appeared on her right out of the mist then morphed into a fierce dragon. I knew him. I’d seen him. Stared at his beautiful, naked body with an unvirginal lust. Felt a dark, erotic thrill, then horror, as I watched him consumed by the flames. The thought of meeting him in his human form sent a blast of savage hunger rocketing through me.
She came down another step. “Next is the Chaos Born. The warrior. The powers of darkness seek to defeat him. They bring him to his knees, whispering, “You cannot withstand the storm.” Yet he fights on. Struggles to his feet, declaring ‘Iamthe storm.’ Honor is his creed – and valor his weakness.”
As she spoke, a masculine figure took shape in the mist behind her. Powerful. Strong. He fixed his deep blue eyes on me and I knew in that moment that no matter what shape his body took, what chiseled plains and hollows made up his face, I would know him in an instant. By those eyes.
“Third is the Tempest Born. The wizard. He will harness his magic to aid in the cause. But beware. The Lord of Darkness casts his own potent spell, and even a powerful wizard can fall under its influence. At the darkest time, remember – the Woman Who Commands the Seven Stars has magic of her own.”
The temple disappeared, and I was cast into the sea in the middle of a storm. Waves crashed over my head. I thrashed and spluttered, certain I would drown. Suddenly, a whirlwind appeared, hovering over the water. A disembodied hand reached out for me from the center. I grabbed it, hanging on for dear life, and a tall man with eyes black as the night sky pulled me out of the water and into his arms. He bent his head and captured my lips in a kiss as fierce as the storm. Before I could catch my breath, the whirlwind tore him away, and I found myself back on the stone floor of the temple.
