Deep within the halls and rooms of the Beneath, a man with lush velvet robes and gorgeous up kept hair sat upon a throne of silver and gold. His prophet sat at his feet, stirring up a smoldering mixture of smoke in a bowl of copper.
"King." The prophet said in a quiet hoarse voice, its sex unidentifiable.
"What do you want?" The King replied in a booming voice, the sound waves echoing around all sides of the immaculate granite throne room.
"I bring a prophecy from the gods of Fate concerning you." The prophet replied in a calm tone of solemnity, becoming seemingly more quiet than before. "Lying not so far away on the bright red horizon, there stands a child. He is beside a figure of dark light, the figure's shape indescribable. The child wears a countenance of determination and is surrounded by an army of pure ivory." The prophet looked toward the king, awaiting his response.
"So? You speak in terms far too exotic for the monarchy to comprehend. Explain this vision." He shouted.
"I cannot clearly determine your position in this situation. All I can tell you, is that the Fates foresee your demise."
The king fell silent for a moment. Then, slowly, a greasy, frightful smile crept across his cheeks. "Tell the troops to ready themselves. We are ready for this child. Who does the child believe himself to be? A hero? Never. I am the hero of this crumbling world!" He laughed heartily while unsheathing his silver blade and raising it in the air, its gilded sides glistening in the candlelight.
The prophet only slunk down and shook his head, and cried softly for the sake of the Beneath.
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YOU ARE READING
Black Queen
Fantasía"When the blood of the monarchy has been shed, the Black Queen will rise."
