Prophecy’s End

The book fell into his hands

By blessing I’d presided over the crux of a thousand-year prophecy. By damnation I watch it crumble with a word.

“No.” Kiera stepped between me Harrison, her staff thunking against the marble and echoing throughout the chamber. Behind her the boy’s face fell as if the excitement were drawn out by leeches. I felt the same.

“No?” I repeated, my hands outstretched as if Harrison could accept the seal through Kiera’s. “What do you mean no?”

Her eyes darted to the seal and back to me narrowing quickly. “I mean no, you’ll not grant him the seal.”

Shaking my head in denial I felt my jaw waggle. “But the book fell into his hands.”

“I am well aware of the fact. I stood right there.” She tapped the tile square with the end of her staff.

“Then why stop me? Why after a thousand years of endless prayers. Of waiting. Of seeking for Etephyr’s divine blessing.” I knew my voice rose in pitch with each word, but chose not to stop myself. “Why block it now at the culmination and condemn us all to another thousand years of darkness! Or more!”

“Because to do otherwise is to proclaim we’ve learned nothing.” She turned and patted Simon on the shoulder. “Sorry, boy, but you can’t be our answer.” Swinging her staff over her head, the wood struck the seal, ripping the stone from my hands, and shattering it and the prophecy on the floor.

“No!” I fell to my knees.

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