World born of fire

  You could see the age etched into her face. The saggy skin, the wrinkles as deep as valleys, all revealed the relentless march of time, each crease a testament to the burdens of life.

  As the head of the order of the Fire Sisters, she was the guiding light of a religious sect that had a direct connection to nature's primary elements.

  Her mind was heavy with thoughts. Reflections were bouncing off each other, but always settling on one final image.

  "The world must be saved," she sighed, mumbling to herself. "It's my duty, what I was called upon to do."

  Her eyes, dulled by the years, settled on the ancient relic before her. This was her burden, her final test, one that would define her legacy and secure her place among the stars. The relic pulsed faintly, as though it too awaited its fate. With trembling hands, she reached for it, a deep, resonating hum filling the air around her.

  Then, she heard steps approaching. Quickly hiding the object beneath her cloak, she turned towards the incoming intruders.

  "High Mother, we have brought news," said a women at the head of the group that was walking towards the old lady. They slowed down, and then stopped in front of the high priestess.

  "Yes, my children. I have been awaiting your words," said the old lady, her gaze focused on the women standing in front of her. Dressed in white dresses with hints of orange, their heads were covered with headbands made of reeds.

  "The document you had instructed us to find, we found it," continued the woman standing at the head of the group.

  "Sister Natalie, please tell me. What does it say?" The High Mother looked at the women.

  "Fire is coming," said Sister Natalie, her voice solemn. "Our era is coming to an end."

  "Yes, my child. I had foreseen it."

  "What does this mean?" The woman at the top had a frightened look, her eyes glancing at the High Mother, trying to find reassurance. She had served her for countless years, and knew the wisdom the old lady carried within her mind.

  The old high priestess took a long look at the group in front of her, and proceeded to explain.

  "The passage of time is divided into eras, with each era divided by cataclysmic events, ones that change the world. Sometimes it is water. Sometimes air. This time, it will be fire," she explained. The fate of the world was hanging in the balance, she could feel that in her heart.

  "Will the world burn?"

  "It is foretold. When an era ends, it is subsumed by the element that reigns supreme. The fire is coming. It will eat us all," said the High Mother, her eyes growing bright.

  "Can we stop it?"

  "No, we cannot," said the old lady. "Yet, it is not all bad. Each destruction also gives room for rebirth. It is up to us to shape it."

  "How?"

  "I can see it clearly. Among the sisterhood will arise one that will lead the rebirth. She will cleanse the world, and build a new one," she continued, her voice growing low. "The holy fire priestess she will be."

  "Holy?" The other women seemed surprised, for holy means someone touched by the gods. Only rarely do individuals in the world have this power. People can sometimes see flashes of the divine, but almost never do they have a direct link of communication with the gods.

  "Yes, holy," said the old lady. "She will be guided by the gods themselves."

  "How will we know who she is?"

  "In time, she will reveal herself," said the high priestess, her ancient face glowing. "My task, my only task left before I pass on, is to prepare you for her coming."

  --

  The enemy is approaching

  General Aktal stood at the edge of his camp, frown on his face, the weight of command settling into his bones. The war had dragged on too long, grinding down his men, sapping their will. And now, the enemy was near again, pressing their advantage, stronger and more cunning than he had given them credit for.

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  Akelon was close to breaking.

  The kingdom was in grave danger. The veteran commander felt everything was culminating into a decisive battle. He knew the next fight would decide the fate of the country he had sworn to serve and protect.

  "Know the time and place of the battle, so that you can control it," an old adage said. The general knew that dictating where and when a battle was to take place gives a force a huge advantage.

  "Know the time and place of the battle, so that you can control it," an old adage said. The general knew that dictating where and when a battle was to take place gives a force a huge advantage.

  "Everything is set," Aktal muttered, his breath misting in the cool air. He glanced over the camp, his eyes narrowing. The enemy had the advantage in numbers, but numbers weren’t everything. Control, positioning, planning. That was where wars were won.

  He had forced his forces to march quickly, to be able to take over strategic ground.

  As they reached Laswan's Creek, the army camped out. A small detachment crossed the stony bridge built over the Creek and took over the hill overlooking the plain on the other side.

  Aktal had decided that very plain, muddy after a series of torrential rains the past few weeks, would be the site of the confrontation. The army of Dasmoydan was marching north, and this would be the best place to stop it.

  The war between the kingdom of Akelon and its southern neighbor had been long, and exhausting. Campaigns on both sides of the border had devastated the countryside.

  Next to the chief general stood a man dressed in delicate silk, a golden crown on his head. His eyes were darting around, as if trying to be everywhere at once.

  "I want that traitor Kenteln," thundered the king of Akelon, pumping his fist on the makeshift table set up in the field. "To think that not long ago, I was sitting with him, drinking wine."

  The general turned to look at the man next to him.

  "Your Majesty," said general Akus Aktal, "he will not get away."

  The king leaned forward. "And you’re certain of this?"

  "I’ve assigned our best to track him down," Aktal said evenly. "They’ll cut through his lines, isolate him. He’ll either fall into our hands or die on the battlefield. Either way, he won’t escape."

  A slow, satisfied nod. "Good. You always plan ahead, general."

  "I do what must be done, sire."

  There was a pause. The king reached for his cup, turning it in his hands before setting it down again.

  "And the battle?"

  The general cleared his throat. "They’re coming north, straight into us. This ground favors us. We control the hill, and the terrain will slow them. They’ll have to fight us on our terms."

  The king stood there, pondering those words in his mind. For a brief moment he closed his eyes, before opening them again.

  "I suppose we’ll see soon enough," the king murmured. "Let’s find out if the omens are in our favor."

  He turned and began walking toward a small clearing just beyond the camp. His steps were measured, unhurried, as though allowing himself a moment to consider the weight of what lay ahead.

  A short distance away, a group of men stood waiting. Their presence, silent and expectant, only reinforced the gravity of the moment.

  General Aktal followed behind. His limp was more pronounced after the long months of campaigning, but he said nothing of it. He simply kept pace, as best as he could, his thoughts kept to himself.

  "General, do you believe our side is righteous?" The king suddenly asked a question out of nowhere.

  "Of course, sire. The gods are on our side. It is not us who started the war. Dasmoydan invaded our lands. It is them who are the aggressors," the general paused, clearing his throat. "We are only defending what is ours."

  The king was silent, reflecting on what was just said.

  "Yes, it is true. Purpose and motivation. They are there. This is what will also enable our men to fight hard. We are just defending what's ours," repeated the king. Yet, from the way he said it, it was apparent something was bothering him.

  For an instant, the king had a worried look on his face. Whatever it was, it passed quickly, for the king once again flashed a smile.

  "General, let's go."

  Before joining the other men, the king passed by his tent. He wanted to wear only his finest military gear right before the battle.

  As they reached the tent, the general could hear giggles. His nose smelled a strong scent of perfume. The king lifted the curtain. Peeking inside, the general saw a group of naked women frolicking around.

  "Sire, you know you should not have women in a war camp. It's bad luck," said the general, looking sternly at the king.

  "No worries, general. I will send them away. They will be well on their way when the enemy reaches the plain," answered the king.

  A retainer approached.

  "Good news, sire," he said. "The king of Alpen is approaching with his troops. They will be here shortly."

  The face of the king glowed. The general's heart jumped.

  "That is excellent news, Your Majesty," said the general. "They will bolster our forces. This is excellent. I was expecting them to come too late, but this is unexpected, and very welcome."

  It didn't take long for the king to enter his tent and change. The general could hear more giggling, and some other noises, but it all passed rather fast.

  With the king in his fancy military gear, decked out with white and gold colors, they walked towards the clearing.

  Rakat Munikus, the chief diviner of the kingdom, together with his assistant, already stood there, ready for the divination ceremony to begin.

  After an initial prayer, the diviners got to work. Chief diviner Munikus took out an eagle, and let him fly. The bird spread its wings and rose up high into the sky. It flapped around a bit, and then flew towards the south. It made a short circle over plain, and then continued in its flight.

  "This is a favorable sign," stated Munikus. His hands gestured towards the plain on the other side of the Creek. "The eagle flew south, making an overpass of the plain. This is good."

  The king smiled.

  With the divination done, the king and general Aktal headed out back to camp.

  "General, you have your answer from the gods. The signs are favorable," said the king while walking towards his tent. "Now, I shall retire back to my quarters. I trust you will hasten the preparations for the upcoming battle."

  "It shall be done," answered the general.

  As they were about to part, a commotion picked up among the men in the distance. The king and the general looked in the direction of the noise, wondering what was going on.

  Moments later, a group of scouts emerged from the shadows, their armor gleaming in the fading light. One of them, a seasoned rider with a weathered face, spurred his horse forward and saluted.

  "The enemy is approaching," he shouted.