The Makers of Destiny: Monarchy

Chapter Ten: The Prophet

Lillian had no idea what she was expecting. Well, that's not entirely true. She had some preconceived notions, just some inklings of what a prophet should be in her mind. She knew that prophets were those that speak the word of God; either passing messages from Him or just preaching the word of God in general. When given that description, she pictured old men with raving eyes and stark white beards. Then, on the other hand, she had been hoping for some sort of kind mentor, the type of old men with flowing robes, wise eyes, and cryptic words of wisdom for the main characters in books. Lillian even braced herself for a crazy old man that people usually find wandering the desert speaking nonsense. She wasn't quite sure what she would do if that scenario was the one that happened.

However, what she actually found was nothing compared to what she expected.

When she walked pulled the rough cloth curtains to the side and walked in, she found that the place was actually bigger than it looked on the outside. For an instant, she wondered lazily if magic had been used to contribute to that, but then remembered that prophets didn't have magic. Of course, maybe the sects have some intersect store that offers magical supplies to all of its members. That could quite possibly be probable if the sects stop having their petty arguments. From an outsider's perspective, Lillian found the whole thing outrageous and frankly, ridiculous. There was so many potentials with the magic those people had at their fingertips. Maybe she could pitch the idea to them. If she actually had the courage.

Inside the tent, another curtain separated the tent into two or more rooms. The curtain was a deep crimson and brushed the pavement, making it impossible for Lillian to see the other side. There were a couple of electric candles on the ground, giving off an eerie glow, though the effect was quite diminished by the sunlight that filtered through the threads of the tent. There was also a wooden stool on the side with a box on top of it. A pile of woolen cloth was in another corner with painted gold trinkets draped on top of it. Lillian twisted her head up and saw strings hanging from the ceiling of the tent with rings dangling on them. The rings turned and flashed, sending flashes of light throughout the tent.

It was stuffy in the tent and Lillian wished she didn't have to spend too much time in it. Already, she could feel sweat building up at the back of her neck. Ugh. Lillian shifted her weight from foot to foot. She wasn't sure what to do then. Where was the prophet? Seconds ticked past before Lillian finally called out. "Hello?" No response. Lillian stood there, debating whether she should pull aside the curtains or is that rude. Finally, she heard footsteps from the other side of the curtain. She breathed a sigh of relief while simultaneously tensing with anxiety. The curtains were pulled to the side, revealing the prophet.

The first thing she noticed is that the prophet didn't look like a fortune teller. He didn't even look like a fake fortune teller. Instead, he looked like an ordinary human who lived an ordinary life. In fact, Lillian won't even stop to give him a second glance if she saw him walking past her on the streets.

Lillian gaped at him, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that this was the person that should hold the key to saving the world.The prophet looked to be around the age of a college student, almost as if he was a volunteer, working at the fair in his spare time. If that was true, at the very least, he could have at least dressed to look the part. Instead, he had the stereotypical gelled back blond hair of a jock, bright blue eyes, was wearing a white shirt and jeans, and looked like he could play the cliche life guard in a chick flick. Nope, this was looking like a big prank. It was already hard enough to believe that a guy like that would be spending his time hiding away in a tent in a dismal fair, much less than the guy would be a prophet of a supposedly all powerful being. Nope, Lillian was in denial.

Fear started to manifest in the corners of her mind. Lillian knew that. Of course, she wasn't the best person for this job. She should head back out, leave all the magic business well and alone, and disappear back into her ordinary life. She wasn't right for this. This whole process wasn't right. The woman outside was the one that was right. Mr. Stalker - how did she suddenly remember him? - was right. They're the ones that were right. What had the woman said? That these people were fake? A trick? Out to get your money? Yes, she's right of course.