The Prophecy

Irving the Great's inn | A sinister encounter

The track was really very easy to follow, maybe even too easy, the wolf thought to himself, so he took more precautions than usual, naturally distrustful of the wind, so deceitful at times, and staying out of reach of a human eye. Hopefully they were. Humans. The track they were following was heading towards the walk of the Wind but had suddenly branched off to finally return towards the large inter-community city of Slindya-La-Douce. The mass of the city, built on the side of the Sacred Volcano, was clearly visible and it was true that who saw Slindya at daybreak could never forget it. The sun, steadily descending towards the horizon, illuminated the scene with its unreal light, as if suspended above the volcano like an incandescent ruby held in weightlessness. The ramparts and roofs of the ancient houses cut themselves out in the uninterrupted flow of light glittered with rusting gold and projected long rays of light and shadow onto the plain. Smoke came out of the chimneys and already multiple windows could be seen illuminating themselves with colors representing the whole range of yellows. Bells were ringing from the four cardinal corners of the city as if they were in the middle of a conversation. Within the ramparts, elf guards were to begin their nightly work, and the gates of the city would soon close for the night. The Palace, hanging on the highest point of the Volcano, would light up with a thousand lights, obeying in detail the complex etiquette, and music would invade the banquets. The majority of the people invited to the Grand Council would already be there, invading the countless apartments of the Royal Palace reserved for the reception of distinguished guests. And in spite of the anxiety, palpable, everyone, for the span of an evening, would celebrate the joy of living in one of the most marvelous of the Walks of Innàa. And then the continuous stream of carriages, groups travelling by means of the four elements would begin again the next day, with the reopening of the city gates, and the King would show up, open the great Hall of Mirrors, the only entrance for the immense Council Chamber, the highest building built, overlooking the Sacred Volcano in a debauchery of technical audacity and bet on the future. Then could begin the long-awaited Council.

Birds were passing through the sky in tight formation, making piercing cries. Fenril slowed down. In front of them, an isolated advance of the forest, like an island on the sea. They approached silently. In the midst of this group of century-old, even millennia-old trees, an old house, almost in ruins, seemed to emerge from a morbid tale. An entire section of the house had collapsed and been covered by vegetation. Windows were broken and the wind played a melancholic melody. One of the turrets was half torn open, as a funereal reminder that, on the other side, its twin had completely disappeared, leaving only a few useless piles of white stones. In places, the half-ripped shutters struck the façade screeching and creaking, in rhythm with the movement of the wind.

Half Moon set foot on the ground and continued walking, careful not to make any noise that might reveal her presence. When she reached the first floor of the house, she walked along the wall until she came to the other side of the building, which must have opened on to a well-ordered garden, until she reached a kind of wall that had been, in the house's flourishing past, almost completely panned out with glass. There she froze as she heard the loud voice of the brigand. She had obviously gone unnoticed as they were resuming their discussion of the inn. But something was different, a kind of sensation, a warmth... a smell. Yes, a vague smell of burning gas. Then she realized that huge masses must have been there because the atmosphere itself was like distorted. She could only feel that in their normal presence. Yes, the dragons had to be there!

Astonished by the absurd idea that they might be there – as well as the twin Gelflings as well, obviously - she ventured to look beyond the glass frame. The room, certainly a former ballroom, was huge and the ceiling must have been easily 5 nuasils(1) high, but large portions of it had crumbled down, long ago. The room, with walls probably initially covered with wood paneling and the floor paved with superb tiles of rare marble, was now in a state of distressed abandonment. In the middle were two gigantic dark shapes, squeezed tight against each other, not moving. Right in front of them was a small group of men, this time chatting with enthusiasm. The dragons watched them without trying to run away, on the contrary, they watched them act, their eyes fearful. Half Moon noticed that they were not hindered in any way. Each of them simply wore a splendid harness on their chest in the middle of which shone an incredible gem the size of a child's balloon. Half Moon moved around so that he could see the whole room, ensuring to no corner of this room remained darken to her half-elven eyes. No trace of the Gelflings though! In the room, the deal was going well and the buyer was convinced. The leather purse was out again and its contents exposed to the eyes of the brigands. But that didn't seem to be enough. One of the bodyguards, eerily dressed in black, had come closer and let a carved wooden chest containing a real treasure, be discovered. The exchange was made, and an obviously falsified deed of ownership was given to the buyer. The final handshake - between the brigand and one of the guards in black, certainly the captain, as the buyer refused to perform this ritual - was warm and everyone prepared to leave on their own, taking their booty with them. The men separated. The chief of the brigands was about to pass through the high door leading to the front of the grim house when the buyer's voice stopped him: