The Foretelling

"Long ago, in the First Age of this world, magic was abundant. Many could see the future, and used that information to help people. But the future was not always good. Some were driven mad by the pure evil they had seen. Others were corrupted, turning their energies to destroying instead of creating, to killing instead of healing. But in the midst of all the chaos, a hope revealed itself. A prophecy for good."
Thus spoke Tywell II. Over many years, he had shaped Tílunur into a mighty empire. The land grew strong and prosperous, and people no longer felt the need to lock their doors at night. Everything was well. But this Golden Age was not to last. Slowly, reports started coming in of growing unrest in the land, of riots and protests, of theft and robbery, and of abduction and murder. Tywell II grew uneasy, fearing for his people. Unsure of what to do, he made his way to the Room of Foretelling, deep beneath the castle, where he had found many prophecies etched into the rock, and added his own visions. And there, running his fingers over the graven marks, he found hope.

"There beneath my fingers was a prophecy I had neither heard of nor seen ever before in my entire life. A prophecy of wisdom. Of peace. Of hope. And then, I realized I no longer had to fear. But many things were unclear in the written words. And so I sought out one who could help."

Tywell travelled to Dol Niya, the Island of Fate, where it was rumoured there lived an oracle. He searched long and hard, and finally, he found a tunnel leading deep into the heart of the mountain that sat at the centre of the island. He followed it down, down, down, until he found a cave. "I entered the vast cavern apprehensively. Now that I had come this far, I wanted answers, but at the same time, I was worried of what those answers would be. In the middle of the cave burned a small fire, and on the other side of it sat an old woman. I stood opposite to her and said, 'I have come because of the writing on the wall in the Room of Foretelling.' The woman looked up from the flames. 'You come seeking explanation.' It was not a question. She stared at me with the mark of one who has seen entire Ages go by. 'Look into the fire,' she commanded. I obediently gazed into the blaze. Suddenly, it flared even higher, forming seven figures. Two girls and five boys. I gazed at them in awe. One of them looked familiar. Indeed, he looked like a younger version of me. One other caught my eye. A roguish boy with braids in his long hair and a bright sword. It seemed as if he could see me. He looked down at me and winked one of his glittering green eyes. I fell to my knees. He smiled, then said, "It will be okay." His voice seemed to echo around the room. I bowed my head, the seven figures vanished, and the fire resumed its normal state. 'Do you understand now?' The old woman asked. I nodded. 'I do.' I left the island in a daze, returning to the Castle, were I sat at the peak of the highest tower. At last, I felt at peace."
The prophecy foretold of seven individuals who would come together and form a magical union so powerful, none of the problems of the Seven Kingdoms would be able to stand against them. And then, thousands of years later, long after Tywell II's death, Tywell III was born. The First of the Seven.

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