The oracle of the Black Forest
1498 Words
A low rumble rolled through the forest, and a crimson light flared across the sky. Lucius pulled her close as the earth split open nearby, releasing a column of fire that reached toward the heavens.
From within the blaze came a roar, ancient, furious, alive.
Morgana turned, eyes wide with terror. “What is that?”
Lucius’s voice was barely a whisper. “The prophecy.”
Miles away, in her darkened chamber, Theresa fell to her knees as the manor shook. Flames flared in the distance where her daughter had vanished.
The witch’s voice echoed in her mind, cruel and soft.
“Love cannot be caged forever.”
Theresa buried her face in her hands, tears burning her cheeks.
And somewhere in the heart of the awakening storm, Morgana and Lucius clung to each other beneath a sky set ablaze by their own love.
The world had turned against them.
Morgana and Lucius thought their love was a secret the wind would keep, a dream sheltered by the trees but the wind had betrayed them. Word of the prophecy spread like wildfire through every tavern, chapel, and castle in Celerius. Lords, knights, and peasants whispered of the cursed lovers whose union would awaken the ancient beast.
Soon, men gathered under banners of fear. Armored knights, hunters, and common soldiers formed a crusade bound not by loyalty, but by terror.
And they all came for Morgana and Lucius.
Far from the kingdom’s walls, the lovers hid within a valley shrouded by mist. For the first time, Morgana tasted freedom, the taste of rain on her lips, the feel of grass beneath her bare feet. Yet even freedom trembled beneath fear’s shadow. Lucius kept watch at night, a hand always on his sword, his ears tuned to the wind.
When the sound of hooves shattered the morning calm, he knew fate had found them.
“Morgana,” he hissed, rushing into their small camp. “They’ve come.”
She looked up, eyes wide with disbelief. “How many?”
“Too many.”
Lucius grabbed her hand. They ran. Behind them came the thunder of soldiers and the glint of steel, echoing through the valley like a heartbeat of death.
“Wait,” Morgana gasped. “Perhaps they mean no harm. Perhaps”
“No.” His voice was sharp, desperate. “These men serve prophecy, not mercy.”
When the first arrows sliced through the air, she stopped believing in maybes.
They fled through the woods until the trees grew twisted and black, their roots coiling like serpents across the ground. Fog crept along the earth, thick and cold, swallowing sound.
Lucius halted at the edge of a vast, shadowed forest.
“The Black Forest,” he murmured, chest heaving. “No one who enters ever returns.”
Morgana looked behind them. The soldiers’ shouts echoed closer. She reached for his hand. “Then it’s the only place left.”
Without another word, they stepped into the darkness.
The air changed the moment they crossed the threshold. The world outside vanished. Branches clawed at their clothes. Whispers rose around them, not of people, but of the forest itself, as though ancient spirits watched them pass.
Lucius kept his arm protectively around Morgana’s waist, guiding her through the maze of roots and fog. Time unraveled. They no longer knew if it was night or day.
Finally, when they could run no more, they collapsed against a great tree, its bark cold as stone. Morgana leaned against it to rest, then screamed.
The tree’s surface rippled like flesh, and two roots lashed out, wrapping around her shoulders.
“Morgana!” Lucius drew his dagger and hacked at the branches. The tree groaned, the sound hollow and human, but he struck again and again until the roots loosened and Morgana fell free into his arms.
They ran, not daring to look back. The forest came alive behind them, trunks twisting, branches snapping, a nightmare pursuing them on wooden limbs.
Just when exhaustion threatened to break them, a light flickered through the fog.
“There!” Lucius pointed.
Through the mist rose the outline of a vast castle, its black spires reaching toward the storm clouds like broken claws.
They pounded on the iron gates, pleading for entry. The gates groaned and opened on their own.
Inside, silence reigned. The halls were vast, built of marble veined with shadows. Vines crept along the pillars, blooming with ghostly white flowers that glowed faintly in the dark.
“Where is everyone?” Morgana whispered.
Their voices echoed endlessly, until they reached a grand chamber lit by hundreds of floating candles. At its center sat a child, bald, pale, and still as death. Her eyes were ancient, silver as moonlight.
Before Lucius or Morgana could speak, the girl smiled.
“At last,” she said softly. “You’ve come.”
Lucius stepped forward cautiously. “Who are you?”
“The one who was, the one who sees, and the one who waits,” the girl replied. “The oracle of the Black Forest.”
Her small hand gestured toward the floor, and from the ground sprouted two living chairs woven from vines and flowers. “Sit, children of prophecy. Your story runs through my blood.”
Morgana and Lucius exchanged a glance but obeyed.
The oracle descended from her throne, her bare feet making no sound. “The prophecy that binds you cannot be undone,” she said. “Your love will awaken the beast Aliath. Its hunger will devour kingdoms, and its fire will end you both.”
Morgana’s throat tightened. “Then tell us how to stop it.”
The oracle’s eyes softened, but her voice remained cold.
“There is one way. Morgana must remain here, with me. Hidden from the world. Locked away where love cannot reach her. If she stays, the beast will sleep forever.”
Lucius turned pale. “You can’t be serious. You’d have her live as your prisoner?”
“Not a prisoner,” the oracle whispered. “A savior. Her sacrifice will spare thousands.”
Morgana lowered her gaze. The air grew heavy with silence
That night, the oracle gave them separate rooms. Lucius fell into uneasy sleep, but Morgana lay awake, staring at the ceiling as the witch’s prophecy echoed through her mind.
When a soft knock sounded on her door, she rose and opened it. The oracle stood there, face serene.
“Walk with me,” she said.
They moved through long corridors, the torches flickering like breath. The oracle’s voice was almost tender.
“You could stay here, Morgana. Become something greater than flesh and fear. You would never age, never suffer. You could even take my place one day.”
Morgana hesitated. “And Lucius?”
“He would live. Free, safe, far from the curse of your love.”
Morgana’s eyes filled with tears. The oracle touched her cheek, and for a moment her touch felt like comfort, then Morgana felt her mind slipping, as though her will were being drowned.
The oracle’s silver eyes glimmered. “Sleep now, my sweet child. When dawn comes, you will tell him you’ve chosen to stay.”
Morning broke in weak light. Lucius rose, heart heavy, and went to Morgana’s chamber.
She stood by the window, eyes unfocused, lips pale.
“Morgana?”
She turned slowly. “I want you to go, Lucius.”
His heart stuttered. “What are you saying?”
“I will stay here. It’s better this way.”
He stepped closer, searching her face. “No. This isn’t you.”
She pressed her trembling hand against his chest. “Please. Leave before it’s too late.”
He caught her wrist, refusing to let go. “You’re bewitched. I know it.”
Without another word, he stormed through the corridors until he found the oracle seated upon her throne.
“What have you done to her?” he demanded.
The oracle’s calm never faltered. “I only freed her from destiny’s cruelty.”
Lucius drew his sword. “Then free her again or I’ll”
But before he could finish, Morgana appeared behind him, her eyes glassy, her voice hollow. “Lucius, please. Go.”
He froze, staring at the woman he loved, her body standing before him, but her soul already gone.
Defeated, Lucius turned and walked away, every step carving grief deeper into his heart.
From the tower above, Morgana watched him disappear into the mist. Tears streaked her cheeks, unseen by her own eyes, for in that moment, her vision clouded white. The oracle’s spell stole her sight, leaving her in darkness.
Morgana fell to her knees. “Please,” she cried. “I can’t see!”
But the oracle only turned and walked away, her voice echoing through the chamber:
“You cannot see what you were never meant to have.”
In the silence that followed, Morgana’s sobs filled the castle, soft, broken, and eternal.
- Writer
