Gentle swirls of mist wrapped lazily about the trunks of moonlit
trees, tendrils probing for remnants of heat within the dampened bark. Creatures of the
forest stared about unmoving, not wishing to disturb that which the night had become. In
the distance, slowly drawing near, a hoarse coughing and the crunch of beleaguered steps
began to sound.
Quiet muttering heralded the arrival of what at one time might have
been an unusual figure. Now, however, even the robe that caused so many to stare in
respect hung about the sparse frame like any other piece of cloth. The soft gold bands
adorning it tarnished. Leaning heavily on a staff of polished wood, the figure shook with
a chill that overtook his body and with legs shaking stumbled towards a fallen log. The
effort of sitting was more then apparent.
Propping the staff against a nearby tree the figure sat in silence
for a moment. Daemeon you are a fool.. the mans weary voice muttered
from within the deep hood. Staring into the darkened mass of trees he sighed. Was my
choice right? A cool breeze sliding through the air caused dreams of evil to take life
in the stirring shadows of the foliage. I know you wait to see what I will do. I know.
Taking a ragged breath he reached into the pack at his side and pulled out an old book and
quill set. Frowning at the darkness he held up a hand. So pale. A soft glow
coalesced above the flattened palm, flickered once, then hovered where it formed.
Satisfied, he unhooked the leather bindings on the book and pulled
it open to a marked page. I know how to remove you from this world. You know I do as
well. Pulling the small cork stopper from the ink well he dipped his quill and began
writing. Only the soft scratching disturbed the night for quite some time.
Sprinkling a handful of sand on the final page he slowly stretched
stiff muscles. Time no longer agrees with me it seems. Coughing harshly he pulled
the leather cover shut and latched the bindings. For a time he simply sat there running a
hand across the cover.
Such a powerful secret, yet now is not the time for its
discovery. You shall hide until that time.
Turning eyes towards the moonlit skies he held the book in
outstretched hands. The chills that had filled his body ceased to be as a power began to
fill his being. Ancient magic, long since forgotten in the world of man.
With a clear voice that rang through the darkness he spoke. To
save the tears of the future I draw on prophecy and fate. Bind my words to that which I
hold, until all has been fulfilled. Let nothing touch upon its knowledge before all has
come to pass!
Light filled the small glade until no shadows remained. Power filled
the air and the prophecy was written..
A blinding glow enveloped the weathered tome for a few brief seconds
before vanishing, taking all traces of the book with it. With a sharp cry the one many
called Seer Daemeon crumpled to the ground unmoving except for the slow rise and fall of
his chest. Darkness once again covered the glade.
From the Town Cryer - The Journal of Ultima
Online, Thursday, May 6th 1999