DYING MOURNINGS, original

six : the prophecy

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𝐒𝐈𝐗 : 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐘

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No. 

No, no, no, no.

I stared at Macabre as he rubbed his forehead, looking both faint and excited. The air inside the morgue had shifted. It was heavy on my shoulders but there was a lightness surrounding Macabre, Eva, and Monroe that I couldn't understand. How could they be okay? How could they be okay with any of this?

This meant I was going to die. This meant this and that and so on and so forth. But he was saying something different. That I had been truly made for this, created by something heavenly, that I was the very being they had been waiting for. How long had they been waiting?

"What do you mean that I'm the one?" I asked, finding the urge to kneel before him and clutch is hands.

Macabre looked at Monroe and the other man read his eyes before turning and retreating into Crow's office. When Macabre turned to face me again, he actually reached out and motioned me closer, taking both my hands in his.

"All of this is happening for a reason, in the order we predicted," he explained to me. "The seals were–were broken and thus, here we are. You weren't the first and only to come face to face with the devil, there had been others. Many others way before your time, some even before mine."

"Then why is it me?" I breathed. "If there had been others, then why me? What seals? Were they the other–" I cleared my throat. "Were they the other necromancers?"

His grip tightened as his voice softened. "They died so you could rise."

Monroe returned from the office, clutching a small envelope stained by time and coffee. He handed it over to Macabre who held it carefully in both hands after releasing mine. He held it up with a smile. "Archer got this letter decades ago, long before he met your father. We didn't know who it was from but it talks of a young necromancer with the power of the Gods in influence and strength. This necromancer would rise and have the ability to stop the devil, to finally destroy his soul as not even chains or a cage could keep him contained." He looked up from the letter to meet my gaze and I dropped to one knee before him.

"It was sent to Archer in hopes he'd find the child," he continued. "To protect this entity capable of bringing down biblical evil. The letter even addressed the idea of summoning the devil in order to trap him long enough for this necromancer to come into being. When they–well, when we tried this, we came up empty handed."

"Or so you thought..." muttered Blondie from where she stood behind me.

I frowned. "Hold up, let's go back a second," I rested a hand on my knee to push myself to stand, suddenly needing to be farther away from them. "If Crow was ordered to protect me, then why try to kill me? He sent his men to murder me." I shook my head. "And John? John only wants me because I'm the only one left. If there had been others, anywhere, he wouldn't be wasting his time with me."

You're making excuses.

"The prophecy of the necromancer said it would be a necromancer who–"

"We've been over this already," I snapped, needing to be free from this place, to be free from my skin. "I know–"

Macabre shook his head, rushing out quickly, "You don't get it, Blaire, it tells of a young necromancer who could raise the dead."