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The Many Gifts of Malia--Part 37: "The Prophecy"

by dragonfphoenix


Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for language.

Finding transport downriver turned out to be far more challenging than I anticipated. Not that there weren’t sailors willing to take me, but rather that everyone wanted me to accept their offer. Despite her earlier reservation about her son pestering me, she practically shoved him forward to offer his father’s boat for my travels. I declined as politely as I could, soothing her worries by explaining that others needed to be involved, that the whole village share in the glory.

In reality, I didn’t want to create any favoritism situations. While her son hadn’t done much besides barrage me with questions, he’d been the first to initiate actual contact and had absorbed the most direct dialogue from me. Even though I’d gone on to canvas the rest of the village for transportation, if I hadn’t taken another family’s boat, the other villagers most likely would have inferred a partiality that simply didn’t exist. But by splitting the aid provided from among them, they could more easily accept that the whole town bore equal responsibility for the help they gave me.

As I climbed into the boat, a single-mast vessel with the sail down, I felt a tingle on my spine that felt like worship, sacrifices, and sacred oaths. The faith of these humble villagers, though nothing I could really do with it, cut off from my divine powers as I was. And it wasn’t much to speak of, but I appreciated their belief nonetheless.

I spent the journey downriver lulled by the rocking of the boat and the rhythm of the oars. The river sparkled as the afternoon sun scattered across its rippling surface, the water wrinkling as the boat floated onwards. Although the distance between Malia and I grew with each passing hour, I didn’t feel the separation any, save for an empirical knowledge that we were growing physically apart. Our bond was still there, true, but it grew no fainter than it already had been since I passed through the boundary.

She would find a way around that obstacle, no doubt about it. Whether her breach was accompanied by fanfare or subtlety remained to be seen, but one way or another she would get through. Hopefully she would wait long enough for me to make my way to Palmyra, the city in the river delta and what most likely now served as the Paeden capitol. Once I was there, assuming my disguise remained intact, I could figure out some angles of attack, maybe even discover a hint as to Thane and Azoria’s whereabouts before Malia provided either a diversion or sent the city into a state of heightened suspicion.

Speaking of the city.

We’d made surprisingly good time down the river. By the time the sun cast its last rays from behind the horizon, we arrived outside the city limits. Palmyra had been built at the bottom of the river delta, the “point” of the upside-down pyramid shape. Only the ancients knew which side of the river the city had started on, for as it had grown through the ages it had spilled across the branching river to populate every habitable square foot of earth.

Here the architecture reflected its desert heritage much more strongly than in Karnak. The tan houses were squat and square, their roofs flat and open, with staircases on the side for easy access. Ziggurats, the pointless predecessors of the pyramids, bore long flights of stairs that bisected each side, paintings in faded reds and blues flanking the steps. Statues of stocky, bearded dwarves guarded the corners of the ziggurat pinnacles, mortal representations of the city’s former patron couple, Palma and Myrhha. The Paedens had integrated them into their pantheon when the region first came under their control, and so far as I knew the aged gods were enjoying their twilight years in their new divine residence.

Quaint history that did little to help me ascertain the current patron deity, but it was reassuring that the statues still stood. With how domineering Marudak seemed to be, the fact that he left the images of former rulers remain meant that, no matter how tyrannical he was, he at least left history intact. I wasn’t sure why, exactly, I found that reassuring, but I did. Maybe he had enough respect for his precursors and antagonists to leave their legacies untouched, or maybe I was misattributing his motives to a political inability to remove them without destabilizing himself.

Oh well. More things to ponder in the ever-growing pile of mysteries I was too uninformed to solve. As the boat approached a lower set of docks, I gathered my robes and staff about me and prepared to disembark.

Thank the heavens I arrived under the cover of night. I managed to keep my transporters quiet about my arrival and didn’t attract any attention from those on the docks, something I don’t think I could have managed under broad daylight. My robes would have drawn curious eyes like flies to honey, but with a full night to prowl the city streets I could perhaps find localized clothes or better prepare to unveil the arrival of “the Prophet” come the sunrise.

Unfortunately, most of the shops open at this hour were of the sordid variety. If Ulti had been here, they would have feasted among the various pleasure houses, gratifying themselves in the soft starlight. The innkeepers reclined against their door frames would have welcomed them into the taverns with broad smiles and sweeping gestures.

But as I passed, all I got were hard looks and stony faces. Several thought to approach me, smiling, only for their joviality to melt as the scant firelight cast from their taverns revealed my foreign robes and aged face. They would stiffen, mutter something that sounded like an invocation against evil, and retreat back to their businesses. Some went so far as to shut and bar their doors.

Well. I didn’t expect warm welcomes all around, but this was a far colder reception than I anticipated. Apparently the jubilation of the small fishing village was an isolated incident, and perhaps the prophesied arrival was viewed as a bad omen here. Or it could just be that an old man in alien attire, wandering the streets of their supposedly isolated city, had them rattled. If Paedaea had cut off Palmyra and the rest of northern Aenea from its southern brethren, it wasn’t impossible that all Carthians had been expelled or imprisoned.

Neither Seppo nor Malia had mentioned something like that happening, but if the region had been silent for months, it was a distinct possibility. While I found it encouraging that none of the city’s inhabitants had accosted me, I still took precautions as I continued on my way. Side alleys, dimly-lit back ways, sectors where the night dwellers were so lethargic they paid no mind to anyone but themselves.

With how muggy the night air was, I was starting to share their lassitude. My joints protested in earnest after a few hours of walking, each step rattled by the increasing grinding of my bones. The humidity made the air cloying, nearly plugging my nostrils and making breathing a chore. More and more, I came to rely on my staff as less of a prop and more of a support. I was old, gods damn it, and I needed a break every now and then.

My wandering became more aimless the deeper into the city I got. I wasn’t sure where I was going, exactly, but my gut said the derketo nest would ostensibly be somewhere downriver, close to the Great Sea. That wasn’t to say they couldn’t have some peripheral hideout on land, as supported by the invasion of Resef’s temple, but I got the impression of the derketo being monsters of the deep.

As for their social structure, they could be anything from a hive to a herd. I suspected the lone one in the temple was probably an oddity. Maybe it wanted the servant girl in particular, if she’d been attempted prey before but escaped. Or maybe it’d been on a mission, if the derketo structure allowed for such things. Or maybe...any number of things. I just didn’t have enough information yet, and I was trying to untangle threads I didn’t even have my fingers wrapped around in an attempt to take my mind off my annoying mortal, physical fatigue.

But my body had finally had enough. I found a secluded alley, occupied by two dark lumps beneath coarse blankets, the fabric rising and falling with the breaths of the sleepers beneath it. I shuffled past, taking care to avoid tripping over the sandaled foot jutting in the middle of the walkway. Steeling my nose against the acidic smell of dumped bodily wastes, I found a relatively clean spot behind what I hoped was an inn and curled up against the wall. Sleep came quickly.

I dreamed.

For a moment, I thought I was seeing myself. I floated in the air, a figure at my side in faded robes much like the ones I now slept in. The air currents, warm and sticky, tugged at the soles of my feet as I hovered above the city. But as I looked closer, I realized that I wasn’t above Palmyra.

In fact, I wasn’t above any city I recognized. Although the buildings were square, like the predominant style in Aenea, the geography was all wrong. Hills thick with olive trees rolled across the countryside, giving the landscape outside the walled city the look of a sea frozen in the midst of a storm. A long river snaked beneath the cliff on which the city had been built, a ribbon of water connecting two saltwater lakes. Though I couldn’t see these bodies of water, I knew them in that uncanny familiarity of dream knowledge.

The robed figure shifted as it noticed my attention, frail hands slipping from its sleeves to sweep over the strange land below us. “War is coming.” The voice, feminine, sounded as if the speaker had spent too much time inhaling fumes. As old as I was, she conveyed an age that made me shiver.

“Who are you?” I asked. The dream had barely started, and already I felt mentally alert, almost fully refreshed. Which was really, really bad. Lucid dreams with the stench of prophecy often panned out, but they weren’t often experienced by gods. Even in my mortal form, it was highly unlikely that any pantheon, mine or others, would be foretelling in my slumbering mind.

A raspy chuckle fluttered her hood. “Wonder, half-god, and be content with unanswered questions.”

“Well, you can’t be—”

“I know your thoughts, child.” Another laugh. “I sift them as sand, and relish their simplicity. Will you hear my words before you awake?”

I frowned. Her tone was both knowing and teasing, not quite condescending but far too confident. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like whatever came next, but I’d be a fool to ignore the words of whatever being could invade sleeping gods’ dreams.

“Good. Know this, Aged Child, that when the Lion Cub has conquered all, he will take his place at the head of his pride. An Adder and an Apparition will be his undoing and his salvation. And when his kingdom is complete, from among the daughters of the Heavenly Bull will come a child who will be his downfall. She will take his pride from him, and rule in his stead.” She paused as the dream sun broke the horizon, feathering the sky with its crimson rays.

I didn’t like how much that portent resembled blood. The old sailors’ adage about scarlet mornings and taking warnings flitted across my mind. Yep, really didn’t like these omens.

She turned to me, and as she did her hood shifted, enough that I could see her cragged face fissure into a smile. “A final, simpler riddle. What happens when the jailor fears his prisoner more than his master?”

My forehead wrinkled. I had no idea where this was going. “The prisoner gets out?”

She nodded. “Beware the Prisoner, Aged Child.” And with that, she turned and vanished.

Chills gripped my spine so tightly I nearly woke up. And I wished I had. Even if I had to peel my sleep-deprived eyes open once awake, I would take all the physical maladies to suffering through the remainder of this dream. The prophetic portion was over, but I didn’t want to risk that woman coming back. She’d touched some primal fear within me, something I couldn’t rationalize away with the uncertainty of the dreamscape surrounding me. But I wasn’t waking up anytime soon, so I spent the rest of the dream doing my best to memorize the land below me. Whenever we reached this portion of the world during our coming war, I wanted to be fully prepared for whatever events this prophecy held in store.


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Wed Aug 04, 2021 3:26 pm
Plume wrote a review...



Hey there! Plume here, with a review!

Ooh, this chapter was full of intrigue!! I feel like most times in books, prophecies are delivered at the beginning and then the rest of the book is it unfolding. It was very refreshing to see one delivered more in the middle, or at least not at the beginning. I feel like it's going to be really great at advancing the plot along, and it'll also add another bit intrigue for the readers as well, and therefore lead to more interaction as they try and figure out what events might be part of the prophecy.

I'm really curious about who that woman was. Charax has been one of the oldest characters we've interacted with so far in this story, but if he's creeped out and gets old vibes from her, she must be really ancient. Could she be the prophet the townspeople were expecting? Is she the reason why there's a barrier?? I've got a lot of questions and I'm really hoping they're going to be answered soon haha.

One thing I always love about these installments is I'm never sure where you're going to take the story next. It's rarely ever predictable, as you always throw new stuff at the reader. Storylines overlap, and it creates this really complex and believable web of plot that's been so enjoyable to read. Never a dull moment, as they say. Nice work!

Specifics

Despite her earlier reservation about her son pestering me, she practically shoved him forward to offer his father’s boat for my travels.


Since this is a new chapter, I think referring to the woman with a noun rather than a pronoun at first would help reintroduce the reader into the story. I find that it's best to refer to a character with their official character title (whether that be a name or descriptor) every once in a while just to solidify who they are.

Quaint history that did little to help me ascertain the current patron deity, but it was reassuring that the statues still stood.


I feel like this sentence would flow better if you omitted the "that" in between "history" and "did."

“Good. Know this, Aged Child, that when the Lion Cub has conquered all, he will take his place at the head of his pride. An Adder and an Apparition will be his undoing and his salvation. And when his kingdom is complete, from among the daughters of the Heavenly Bull will come a child who will be his downfall. She will take his pride from him, and rule in his stead.” She paused as the dream sun broke the horizon, feathering the sky with its crimson rays.


OOooh a prophecy!! That's so exciting. I wonder if the lion cub is Hasda, or if it speaks of someone else.... Also, the confirmation that war is indeed coming is very interesting. I bet Hasda will be very involved in it.

What happens when the jailor fears his prisoner more than his master?”

My forehead wrinkled. I had no idea where this was going. “The prisoner gets out?”

She nodded. “Beware the Prisoner, Aged Child.” And with that, she turned and vanished.


This part was soooo chilling. I really loved the weight it carried, and that riddle and her warning were so stupendous together. I got chills. I'm really curious what the prisoner will come to represent....

Overall: nice work!! Really loved the contrast between Charax's interactions with the townspeople here versus the other town, and also all the interactions in his dream. Super curious to see what happens next as well as how the prophecy is going to play out in the future! Until next time!!




dragonfphoenix says...


Haha, thanks. :)

Answers are coming soon for...some of those questions ;)



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Tue Aug 03, 2021 5:34 am
KateHardy wrote a review...



Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm baack for another review!!

First Impression: Well this got even more mysterious....ahh..the anticipation that is currently building up here is crazy at the moment. Aand well, prophecies definitely make everything a lot more interesting.

Anyway let's get right to it,

Finding transport downriver turned out to be far more challenging than I anticipated. Not that there weren’t sailors willing to take me, but rather that everyone wanted me to accept their offer. Despite her earlier reservation about her son pestering me, she practically shoved him forward to offer his father’s boat for my travels. I declined as politely as I could, soothing her worries by explaining that others needed to be involved, that the whole village share in the glory.


Well...that's the worst kind of trouble to have in a situation like that one. Having to choose one person without offending anyone else is probably going to be literally impossible.

In reality, I didn’t want to create any favoritism situations. While her son hadn’t done much besides barrage me with questions, he’d been the first to initiate actual contact and had absorbed the most direct dialogue from me. Even though I’d gone on to canvas the rest of the village for transportation, if I hadn’t taken another family’s boat, the other villagers most likely would have inferred a partiality that simply didn’t exist. But by splitting the aid provided from among them, they could more easily accept that the whole town bore equal responsibility for the help they gave me.


Well, that's a fun little breakdown of that there...its good to see the kind of troubles that someone like Charax can have and to see him having to think smart in order to get things done without causing any potential issues there.

As I climbed into the boat, a single-mast vessel with the sail down, I felt a tingle on my spine that felt like worship, sacrifices, and sacred oaths. The faith of these humble villagers, though nothing I could really do with it, cut off from my divine powers as I was. And it wasn’t much to speak of, but I appreciated their belief nonetheless.


Well, that must be somewhat comforting to the poor guy there...or maybe seeing the faith of everyone is going to just make it harder for him...I suppose we'll find out soon enough here.

I spent the journey downriver lulled by the rocking of the boat and the rhythm of the oars. The river sparkled as the afternoon sun scattered across its rippling surface, the water wrinkling as the boat floated onwards. Although the distance between Malia and I grew with each passing hour, I didn’t feel the separation any, save for an empirical knowledge that we were growing physically apart. Our bond was still there, true, but it grew no fainter than it already had been since I passed through the boundary.

She would find a way around that obstacle, no doubt about it. Whether her breach was accompanied by fanfare or subtlety remained to be seen, but one way or another she would get through. Hopefully she would wait long enough for me to make my way to Palmyra, the city in the river delta and what most likely now served as the Paeden capitol. Once I was there, assuming my disguise remained intact, I could figure out some angles of attack, maybe even discover a hint as to Thane and Azoria’s whereabouts before Malia provided either a diversion or sent the city into a state of heightened suspicion.


Well, that is quite nice to see there...its a nice little reference to both the plans that they've currently managed to formulate for what needs to be done and also a nice reference to the trust that Charax has in Malia's abilities there.

Speaking of the city.

We’d made surprisingly good time down the river. By the time the sun cast its last rays from behind the horizon, we arrived outside the city limits. Palmyra had been built at the bottom of the river delta, the “point” of the upside-down pyramid shape. Only the ancients knew which side of the river the city had started on, for as it had grown through the ages it had spilled across the branching river to populate every habitable square foot of earth.

Here the architecture reflected its desert heritage much more strongly than in Karnak. The tan houses were squat and square, their roofs flat and open, with staircases on the side for easy access. Ziggurats, the pointless predecessors of the pyramids, bore long flights of stairs that bisected each side, paintings in faded reds and blues flanking the steps. Statues of stocky, bearded dwarves guarded the corners of the ziggurat pinnacles, mortal representations of the city’s former patron couple, Palma and Myrhha. The Paedens had integrated them into their pantheon when the region first came under their control, and so far as I knew the aged gods were enjoying their twilight years in their new divine residence.


Hmm, well nice to see a bit more descriptions coming through of the architecture there. You can really get a sense of each of these places and how different they are from each other through all of that there. You really do set the scene for each of these new places really well before we visit them and stuff starts to happen.

Oh well. More things to ponder in the ever-growing pile of mysteries I was too uninformed to solve. As the boat approached a lower set of docks, I gathered my robes and staff about me and prepared to disembark.

Thank the heavens I arrived under the cover of night. I managed to keep my transporters quiet about my arrival and didn’t attract any attention from those on the docks, something I don’t think I could have managed under broad daylight. My robes would have drawn curious eyes like flies to honey, but with a full night to prowl the city streets I could perhaps find localized clothes or better prepare to unveil the arrival of “the Prophet” come the sunrise.


Hmm, well everything appears to be going in Charax's favor for the moment here, hopefully that can continue or he's going to end up being caught without any abilities in the middle of the enemy camp there.

But as I passed, all I got were hard looks and stony faces. Several thought to approach me, smiling, only for their joviality to melt as the scant firelight cast from their taverns revealed my foreign robes and aged face. They would stiffen, mutter something that sounded like an invocation against evil, and retreat back to their businesses. Some went so far as to shut and bar their doors.


Well...I suppose now Charax is getting the sort of welcomes that he was expecting when he first walked into that village...well at least he should've been somewhat expecting this reaction here.

Well. I didn’t expect warm welcomes all around, but this was a far colder reception than I anticipated. Apparently the jubilation of the small fishing village was an isolated incident, and perhaps the prophesied arrival was viewed as a bad omen here. Or it could just be that an old man in alien attire, wandering the streets of their supposedly isolated city, had them rattled. If Paedaea had cut off Palmyra and the rest of northern Aenea from its southern brethren, it wasn’t impossible that all Carthians had been expelled or imprisoned.

Neither Seppo nor Malia had mentioned something like that happening, but if the region had been silent for months, it was a distinct possibility. While I found it encouraging that none of the city’s inhabitants had accosted me, I still took precautions as I continued on my way. Side alleys, dimly-lit back ways, sectors where the night dwellers were so lethargic they paid no mind to anyone but themselves.


Well, we continue to get more an more theories on what could've happened....but ahh...well, it should be quite satisfying when we eventually end up getting all of the answers here.

With how muggy the night air was, I was starting to share their lassitude. My joints protested in earnest after a few hours of walking, each step rattled by the increasing grinding of my bones. The humidity made the air cloying, nearly plugging my nostrils and making breathing a chore. More and more, I came to rely on my staff as less of a prop and more of a support. I was old, gods damn it, and I needed a break every now and then.


Well, no one was suggesting otherwise Charax...no need to get grumpy about that...

My wandering became more aimless the deeper into the city I got. I wasn’t sure where I was going, exactly, but my gut said the derketo nest would ostensibly be somewhere downriver, close to the Great Sea. That wasn’t to say they couldn’t have some peripheral hideout on land, as supported by the invasion of Resef’s temple, but I got the impression of the derketo being monsters of the deep.


Well, that seems like a pretty good assumption there....or at the very least it seems like that.

As for their social structure, they could be anything from a hive to a herd. I suspected the lone one in the temple was probably an oddity. Maybe it wanted the servant girl in particular, if she’d been attempted prey before but escaped. Or maybe it’d been on a mission, if the derketo structure allowed for such things. Or maybe...any number of things. I just didn’t have enough information yet, and I was trying to untangle threads I didn’t even have my fingers wrapped around in an attempt to take my mind off my annoying mortal, physical fatigue.


Ahh...soo much theorizing going on in this one...it definitely gives you a looot of things to think about here as a reader...while also letting us know a thing or two about the way that creatures tend to work in this world here.

But my body had finally had enough. I found a secluded alley, occupied by two dark lumps beneath coarse blankets, the fabric rising and falling with the breaths of the sleepers beneath it. I shuffled past, taking care to avoid tripping over the sandaled foot jutting in the middle of the walkway. Steeling my nose against the acidic smell of dumped bodily wastes, I found a relatively clean spot behind what I hoped was an inn and curled up against the wall. Sleep came quickly.


Hmm, well, naptime...this is very interesting...I wonder how things are going to change for him if he's going to explore the city in the morning the next day.

I dreamed.

For a moment, I thought I was seeing myself. I floated in the air, a figure at my side in faded robes much like the ones I now slept in. The air currents, warm and sticky, tugged at the soles of my feet as I hovered above the city. But as I looked closer, I realized that I wasn’t above Palmyra.


Okay...well that's the first time we've run into a dream in this story if I remember correctly, I wonder if this means anything here...certainly looks like Charax is experiencing something interesting somehow.

In fact, I wasn’t above any city I recognized. Although the buildings were square, like the predominant style in Aenea, the geography was all wrong. Hills thick with olive trees rolled across the countryside, giving the landscape outside the walled city the look of a sea frozen in the midst of a storm. A long river snaked beneath the cliff on which the city had been built, a ribbon of water connecting two saltwater lakes. Though I couldn’t see these bodies of water, I knew them in that uncanny familiarity of dream knowledge.


Oh gosh...that last line...but also...well, more interesting descriptions headed our way I see...I wonder what's going to happen next to poor Charax here.

The robed figure shifted as it noticed my attention, frail hands slipping from its sleeves to sweep over the strange land below us. “War is coming.” The voice, feminine, sounded as if the speaker had spent too much time inhaling fumes. As old as I was, she conveyed an age that made me shiver.

“Who are you?” I asked. The dream had barely started, and already I felt mentally alert, almost fully refreshed. Which was really, really bad. Lucid dreams with the stench of prophecy often panned out, but they weren’t often experienced by gods. Even in my mortal form, it was highly unlikely that any pantheon, mine or others, would be foretelling in my slumbering mind.


Well...that took a different type of turn there...oh dear...looks like we're having some kind of random prophetic dream here...and, well, this is definitely pretty exciting right here...should be pretty fun going forward.

A raspy chuckle fluttered her hood. “Wonder, half-god, and be content with unanswered questions.”

“Well, you can’t be—”

“I know your thoughts, child.” Another laugh. “I sift them as sand, and relish their simplicity. Will you hear my words before you awake?”


Well...that was a bold statement by however this person is...they definitely seem to be someone quite powerful to be calling someone as old and powerful as Charax an actual child unless whoever it is doing the talking has been fooled by the current lack of divine powers in Charax.

I frowned. Her tone was both knowing and teasing, not quite condescending but far too confident. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like whatever came next, but I’d be a fool to ignore the words of whatever being could invade sleeping gods’ dreams.


Sounds like a pretty logical choice there by Charax...on the chance that this is in fact some kind of extra powerful being that can invade the dreams of gods.

“Good. Know this, Aged Child, that when the Lion Cub has conquered all, he will take his place at the head of his pride. An Adder and an Apparition will be his undoing and his salvation. And when his kingdom is complete, from among the daughters of the Heavenly Bull will come a child who will be his downfall. She will take his pride from him, and rule in his stead.” She paused as the dream sun broke the horizon, feathering the sky with its crimson rays.


Well that just sounds like a discount prophecy right there...oh dear...those never end up meaning anything good for anyone involved there.

I didn’t like how much that portent resembled blood. The old sailors’ adage about scarlet mornings and taking warnings flitted across my mind. Yep, really didn’t like these omens.

She turned to me, and as she did her hood shifted, enough that I could see her cragged face fissure into a smile. “A final, simpler riddle. What happens when the jailor fears his prisoner more than his master?”

My forehead wrinkled. I had no idea where this was going. “The prisoner gets out?”


Hmm...I think that's the correct answer but...well, this is going to be very interesting in the times to come here...

She nodded. “Beware the Prisoner, Aged Child.” And with that, she turned and vanished.

Chills gripped my spine so tightly I nearly woke up. And I wished I had. Even if I had to peel my sleep-deprived eyes open once awake, I would take all the physical maladies to suffering through the remainder of this dream. The prophetic portion was over, but I didn’t want to risk that woman coming back. She’d touched some primal fear within me, something I couldn’t rationalize away with the uncertainty of the dreamscape surrounding me. But I wasn’t waking up anytime soon, so I spent the rest of the dream doing my best to memorize the land below me. Whenever we reached this portion of the world during our coming war, I wanted to be fully prepared for whatever events this prophecy held in store.


Well...it certainly sounds like something rather dangerous could be headed their way whenever the war comes to whatever point this is at here.

Aaaaand that's it for this one.

Overall: Overall, we have ourselves another wonderful chapter here. Looking forward to seeing what happens to poor Charax next here. :D

As always remember to take what you think was helpful and forget the rest.

Stay Safe
Harry




dragonfphoenix says...


Thanks :)



KateHardy says...


You're Welcome!!




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