Sybella woke to a pair of hands shaking her shoulders.
Opening her eyes, she reached out and grabbed a thin, narrow wrist. The familiar scent of lavender washed over her. The scent paired with the size of the wrist conjured the image of Hera.
Sybella spoke, her voice shook. “Hera, is this you?”
“Yes, you need to get up now. Get dressed, there are people here to see you.” Hera said, her tone filled with a sense of urgency.
“What happened? Who are these people that have come before the temple has even opened their doors?”
Sybella scooted herself off the bed, shedding her nightgown and then holding her hands in the air.
“Lord Marcus, the representative for the king has come. He has only just arrived with a few of his men, but they insist on seeing you now.” Hera explained as she aided Sybella in getting dressed.
There was an edge to the woman’s voice. A tremor in her fingers as she buttoned the back of Sybella’s dress. Nervous energy radiated from her.
Hera was never like this.
“What could it be that they want? What kind of future is he going to ask about?” Sybella wondered. A sneaking suspicion crawling into the back of her mind.
“I don’t know.”
Lies.
Hera knew. It was in her voice. She knew what Lord Marcus wanted. Why mention the fact he was the king’s representative? That was specific. Lord Marcus was asking something on behalf of their king. Sybella wasn’t stupid.
There were rumors going around. Rumors of the elven kingdom making advances into their territory. Sybella knew that if that were true there would be no way they would win an invasion. They were small. They were weak. They had been quiet and hidden for so long but now the elven king had his eyes on them and that would mean their immediate destruction.
Sybella finished getting dressed and was ushered out of her room by Hera.
The halls were quiet, not even the servants were up yet. The marble floors were cold. Bits of sand stuck to her feet, carried into the temple by the humid wind. The air chilled the tips of her ears and nose.
In the distance a pack of wolves howled. Owls cawed and crickets sang. The creatures of the night doing their part to break the silence of darkness.
This was nowhere near the morning. The time may be only a few hours into the night. Whatever these men wanted it was particularly important. Although, Sybella was not sure she could deliver them something that they wanted to hear.
The doors to the sanctuary opened and Sybella was greeted with loud whispers and mixed odors. Cologne, perfume, sweat, blood, magic, all of it.
There were six, no, nine different voices ranging from noticeably young to middle aged. All the voices were male. The dominant voice in the group was that of a man nearer to fifty then forty. His pitch was low and his words articulate. But as soon as Sybella stepped into the room the voices fell silent.
“High priestess, we are honored to be in your presence.” The dominant voice said.
Fabric rustled and squeaked, leather and metal rubbing against each other as they bowed from their waist.
“It is an honor to meet you, Lord Marcus.” Sybella said with a sweep of her hands. “I am humbled you have chosen to visit our temple. Humbled and genuinely concerned.”
“I see you know who I am.” Lord Marcus said in a no-nonsense voice. “Are you aware of the nature of our visit?”
“The Sight allows many things, Lord Marcus, but unfortunately for me, unless I physically touch someone I cannot see their future. However, I can take a guess as to why you are here. Although, I would prefer to hear it from you.” Sybella said.
“High priestess, we beseech you to look into the future of my men here and of myself.” Lord Marcus asked.
“My lord, I can look into the future of these men and of you, but I need to know the specifics for each man. What am I looking for? What is it exactly you seek? If I investigate your future, I can find many things, but they may not pertain to what you want. I must warn you; I can only see the future of individuals and not a collective.”
“We need to know when we will die and where.”
Sybella’s blood ran cold. The only reason the king’s men would want to know the when and where of their death was if they were going to war.
“I can do that.” Sybella answered. “Bring the first man to me.” Sybella sat herself down, extending her hands, palm upwards.
Large, rough hands touched hers. Memories, past, present and future rushed through Sybella’s mind. She searched the moments until she found a black string.
The black string led her to an open field covered in fire and smoke. Hundreds of thousands of bodies lay upon bodies forming mountains of decaying flesh as far as the eye could see. Rivers of blood flooded the surrounding towns. Mountains were leveled and the sun was blotted out of the sky by a black circle.
A battle was still taking place around the man. Many falling and tripping over the bodies at their feet. The clouds were red and something in the distance screeched in a high, painful note.
All around him was absolute carnage.
Sybella searched for a time, counting the notches in the string. Twenty-two notches. The man had time. But his death would be a painful and lonely one.
“You will live for another twenty-two years.” Sybella said as she removed her hands away from the man. She could feel the man physically relax and could almost see the smile on his face.
“How will I die?” He asked.
Sybella shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. “You will die twenty-two years from now on the battlefield.” Sybella said softly.
The man fell silent then moved away without saying another word.
After the man left, Sybella continued to the next.
Sybella quickly found the death of the second man. He lived for another forty years and died in his old age of natural causes.
The third man also died on the same battlefield in twenty-two years.
The fourth was a lot sooner. He had three days left. He died in some woods that Sybella didn’t know of.
The fourth died in a month and a half. Drowned in a river.
When the fifth came to Sybella she had found his string. However, she had to look at it over and over in order to confirm that what she was seeing was correct.
“I cannot see your future.” Sybella said quietly.
Sweat dripped down her brow and her hands shook. The fact that she found it but couldn’t see this man’s future made her extremely nervous.
“What does this mean?” Lord Marcus asked.
“It means two things,” Sybella lifted two fingers in the air, then lowered one. “The first is that somehow this man’s fate is linked with my own. If that is the case, then I will never be able to see his fate.”
“But?” Lord Marcus insisted.
“But I did see his fate. I saw his past; I saw his present. I could not find his death.” Sybella said.
“What does that mean?” Lord Marcus asked again.
“It could mean that I will be involved with his death somehow and that his death could be very soon.”
“How soon?”
Sybella opened her mouth then closed it. She inhaled deeply, desperately trying to keep her fear at bay. “Tonight, perhaps.” Sybella said.
The room broke into chaos. Shouts of protests, curses, and worries flew across the room. The men either yelled at Sybella or at each other. Many called her a whore. Others called her a liar.
No one wanted to believe what she had said.
“Quiet!” Lord Marcus shouted.
The men ceased to speak.
“We are here as guests and have asked this girl to deliver exactly what we had wanted and she did. Do not insult her because you do not like the answer! You knew it would be like this coming here.” Lord Marcus said, his voice low and threatening.
Despite the fact that she couldn’t see Lord Marcus, she sensed his presence. It was heavy. Serious. Sybella was willing to bet he was leaning toward her and if he had a weapon, he most definitely had his hand on the hilt.
The man was genuinely frightening.
“Please, high priestess.” Lord Marcus said, softly and apologetically. “Continue with the boy.”
Sybella extended her hand and a soft pair of hands touched hers.
In the vision she could see the sun rising. See smoke filling the sky. Screams of thousands of men, women and children came from every direction. The boy was on his back and standing over him was an elven man with a sad smile on his face. Tears sat on the corner of his eye but they didn’t fall. His brows formed deep lines in his forehead. Blood splatters dotted his pale skin. The elven man leaned down and picked up a pin with a bear engraved on it before closing the boys eyes.
Sybella searched the notches in the string.
There were none.
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