The Last Salem Witch

The Prophecy

Chapter 4

The blonde woman descends to settle back down in her seat. Her face shows no satisfaction for having stunned an entire assembly of leaders. As a matter of fact, she looks almost embarrassed to have elicited such a response, hiding behind shuttered eyelashes.

Who can blame us, though? The Celestial Prophecy preceded almost every person gathered here by almost seven hundred years, give or take. Aside from perhaps the Keepers and the Forges, no one knew exactly what the prophecy meant or entailed and no one knew exactly how it will play out. To have the very person who delivered the great prophecy means that there may be hope yet.

And this hope is mirrored by the other members of the council. I can see it in their faces like a fire has been lit behind their eyes, a way for them to fight, and as they straighten up, leaning forward in their seats.

Except for Keymaster Atticus.

"Ah, yes. Of course such kind of doom would come from a Child of Light," the old and wrinkly Forge said in derision for Solaris. "Nothing good ever comes from you lot, huh?"

Peia Solaris inclines her head, completely unfazed by the formidable man. "We are Lightbringers and your Healers. Are you meaning that these are not good actions?"

"Don't you dare twist my words, girl!" Atticus sputtered in furious anger, a crooked finger outstretched in scandal towards the calm woman. "I am merely saying—"

I lift a hand and he stops in his tracks. The Forges may be the ones who hold the knowledge of our existence, but I still hold the highest authority in the land. And I do not care for blatant disrespect, especially towards one of the few handfuls of women on this council.

"Solaris." She rises from her seat once more, looking polite and yet expectant. "If you might be so kind as to tell us how the prophecy goes, I would appreciate it very much."

A pale eyebrow shoots up. "Are you certain, Mistress? People who hear the prophecy they are part of tend to not fare well against changing the course of Destiny."

I look around the table, observing the same old faces on their... well, faces. Most of them are wearing the perfect example of what a constipated face is. There it is again. Fear. I don't think I can stand this much longer. I need to know everything now.

I smile. "That might be because men usually cannot handle what they do not know. The prophecy, if you please."

Peia Solaris flashes a brief grin, before nodding. Then, with a voice like soft melodies carrying through the glen, she recites the words of the prophecy:

In the Days of Twilight, the Fallen shall rise,

And the pow'rs of your world will not suffice.

The last will stand,

but Death commands.

For only One born by a lake of fire shall deliver,

And wield special blood to save what has been severed.

Quiet masks the fear I know everyone is feeling. While the stories we heard growing up about the prophecy has been mostly close to the truth, there is something much more grave and serious when you hear the whole thing for yourself. And for a bunch of council leaders who have seen almost everything from monsters to famine and discovery, the horrified looks on their faces would be very bad indeed if other people saw.

Prince Avery, who has been quiet this whole time, is the first to break the silence. "Mistress, what do we do?"

Indeed. What do we do? My throat suddenly feels parched but I debate whether this is the right time to take a long sip from a bottomless carafe of liquor. Maybe a nice glass of bear with an effect enhancer to get be drunk quicker than the speed of light. Wouldn't it be nice if all our problems could be solved just by drinking?

"Mistress, we can start mobilizing werewolf packs near to Alfheim and perhaps stave off the incoming attack?" said Felix, pointing to the large and detailed map spread across the stone table.

I almost snort at the laughable idea. The prophecy just said that our powers will be no match for the Fallen. What can a handful of dogs do? Bark them into submission? No. They'll be squashed like bugs out there.

Queen Meridian spoke next, unsteady and all out of ire, so unlike the Merchief. "I can send my soldiers to Seelie territory so we can catch them—"

Chief Akū grunts, "We Orcs will build a wall to protect Alfheim until the evacuation is finished."

"Vampire troops will aid Seelie fae evacuation and provide protection," Caeldon's commander piped in, nodding at Prince Avery in support.

Even Keymaster Atticus jumps in on the idea wagon. "We can provide the mason Orcs blueprints on how to build the strongest defense."

Anaïs quickly produces a pen and some papers. "We have Seen that this design will be most helpful in—"

"Stop."

Everyone turns to look at me, confused. I steeple my fingers under my chin. How do I best tell them that there's nothing we can do?

"My lieges, we cannot stage an attack and exhaust all our men and resources into building a Trump Wall," I said. When none of them seemed like they were getting what I was saying, I stand. "Our powers, even combined, will not be enough for this attack."

Prince Avery shakes his head, questions in his eyes. "So, what? Will you have us do nothing to protect your people?"

"I certainly didn't say that," I began, but the Prince was not having it.

"My father left the care of all Seelie fae under my leadership," he bit out in frustration. "We must do something to at least fight off this attack and save my people!"

I straighten. "And we will, Prince Avery. I assure you that I do not see your people's struggles blindly."

"Really?" he demands angrily. "What do we do then?"

My eyes narrow. How insolent of this boy to talk to me this way. I clasp my hands together. "Prince Avery, you shall go to Alfheim and evacuate every mother, child, and elder citizen. Take them to King Caeldon's lands where they will be cared for. The men will stay in Alfheim as is."

I look to the rest of the assembled council members. "Queen Meridian, send scouts to Alfheim seas and monitor the area but do not leave other areas of your dominion unchecked. Same with you, Felix. Hold all plans for a physical wall and instead, start making more weapons and armor for the soldiers.

"Keymaster Atticus, your knowledge in this area is lacking. Work with the Seers of the Keepers and look for any fragment of our ancestors' past that pertains to the Fallen. Solaris," I called. "Your brethren will be needed heavily, so stock up."

Xaero stands. "I have a proposal."

I look up at him, searching his face and trying the link between us, but he doesn't meet my eyes nor answer telepathically. The Masters of the Houses regard him lazily as if his interruption is slowing them down greatly, which may also be true.

Xaero, what are you up to? I thought, willing him to answer. My pleas fall under deaf ears.

"Yes, Captain, what do you want?" Peia Solaris answers when it was obvious I was not going to verbally acknowledge him.

"Tragedies befall those who trifle with prophecies, am I correct?"

Anaïs and Solaris share a look. As heads of the only two races gifted with Sight, they are considered authorities on the matter.

"Yes," Anaïs answered. "Those who are subjects of a prophecy mustn't hinder it or else they risk bringing catastrophic results."

Xaero nods. "What kind of catastrophe might this be?"

I stare confused at my cousin. Is now really the time to be discussing this, in the middle of adjourning a terribly executed war council?

Peia Solaris humors him, hands placed firmly over her lap as she sat back down. "Throughout history, pain and death have always kissed the lives of those who hinder a prophecy's fulfillment." She continues, "Some of the worst ones include an annihilation of almost an entire magical clan."

None of them were looking but I know what they are thinking. I hold my chin up. I have heard whispers of other people's conversations when they say that the Salem witch trials didn't happen just because of some devil-fearing idiots. Some have been insisting that my entire family, my coven, was mostly wiped out of existence and killed because my father tampered with a prophecy that involved my mother.

I never believed it, nor did I ask Xaero to confirm the gossip. I peek up at him, but I cannot read his face.

"Very well," he says. "I propose keeping the Mistress Ella Wysterra here in Danvers for protection of both herself and the fulfillment of the prophecy."

Translation:

Peia - Lady