The Reluctant Prophet

The Game

"What the fuck!"

"Language." His voice called from behind her, making her angrier. She tried to wake herself not having been asleep to begin with. This was a violation of so many of their own rules.

"Send me back now!" She tried to ignore her surroundings, tried to reason with something she did not wish to acknowledge.

"Show some respect girl." With that she turned to face him, contempt etched into every detail of her being.

"You have put my life and the life of the chosen in danger by bringing me here."

"This is the house of God and you will show some decorum." He raised his voice, secure in his place at the highest point of the great oak table that hid the throne of God behind them.

"Like the decorum you showed me by dragging me here." She was emboldened clenching her fists.

"Enough you have a choice to make." He slammed his fists into the wood, being vague, refusing to ask the question directly or even acknowledge it. She dropped her head releasing the tension in her frame. A word muttered softly changing her dirty-blood-stained clothes to a brilliant red toga that closed over her shoulders with gold clasps, a gold cord tied around her waist held it snug. He paused only slightly at the transformation, not at all surprised by the action.

"You already have my answer. It never changes."

"You are making a mistake." He warned with empty words that no longer scared her. She wasn't afraid of him, couldn't be controlled anymore. This terrified him, the idea that he could no longer contain her.

"My only mistake, not trusting the plan to begin with." She turned her back on him and the council exiting the room into nothingness.

"Aurora... Aurora..." Michael called to her receiving no response. "Aurora! Commander!" He shook her hard trying for any form of a response. Alexander's men had left her in the room surprisingly unharmed. They seemed unconcerned as usual half dropping half tossing her onto the clean bed, her dressed in blood and mud encrusted clothing, them looking like they'd been in a bar fight they definitely did not win. Paisley pulled off her boots deciding to stop there, nearly kicked in the face by an angry leg. All she wanted to do was clean her up a little. The two of them sat in wingback chairs, each taking a boot to polish while watching the commander tensely converse with others outside the windows of the room that faced the courtyard.

"What!" Aurora shot bolt upright, snapping at Michael's attempt to wake her despite him having been in a chair alone for hours now.

"Get enough sleep?" She rubbed her eyes looking around the room. This was not where she was, nor where she should be.

"What the..." Confused she tried to come to grips with how long she had to have been out in order to be here. Where was here? Paisley opened the solid wood door removing any doubt as she squealed at the sight of Aurora awake. She ran in jumping on the large canopy bed beside her.

"What do you think?" Paisley giggled bouncing on her butt on the edge of the bed, Aurora still trying to process where she was and how she got there. A lot had happened since they had been gone. She paused, caught off guard by all of it. She remembered the fight, the chosen, was it just a dream?

"It... I... What?" Aurora wasn't sure what to say. She ran her hands down her face trying to piece it all together. The bed sat at the back of the room perfectly centered against the far wall. It was a large ornate-oak canopy bed draped in furs and silks reminiscent of the one in Destroyer quarters. A simple wood bed was positioned against the left wall covered much the same. Curved-top wood trunks sat at the end of each bed, holding their own sense of wonder. Near the door a neatly arranged seating area with a Victorian style sofa and two wingback chairs surrounded a claw foot coffee table. "I must be hallucinating." She rubbed her head still trying to piece together the blank spots in her memory.