Chapter 21: The Forgotten Prophets

The night after their escape from the shadow creatures was long and restless. The group had taken refuge on the rocky ridge overlooking the dark forest below, where the Oracle's twisted forces still prowled. Every sound seemed amplified in the silence of the night—the rustling of leaves, the creak of branches, the low growls of unseen predators in the distance. Even the stars above seemed dimmer, their light swallowed by the creeping darkness that clung to the land.

Elias sat by the fire, staring into the flames. He could still feel the weight of the painting in his pack, the secrets it held pressing down on him. The runes hidden within the layers of paint were a puzzle waiting to be solved, and each day brought them closer to the scholar who might hold the key to understanding their meaning. But as they drew nearer to their destination, Elias's dreams had grown darker, haunted by visions of the Oracle's power and the war that loomed on the horizon.

Kael was on watch, his broad form silhouetted against the firelight. Garrick sat nearby, sharpening his sword in silence, while Nyra was deep in concentration, her fingers tracing invisible symbols in the air as she practiced her magic. Despite their quiet, Elias knew the tension weighed on them all. They had escaped the darkness for now, but it was only a matter of time before the Oracle's forces found them again.

Elias's thoughts drifted back to the painting. The image of the Oracle, standing amidst the ruins of a twisted landscape, was burned into his mind. But it was the runes—those strange, ancient symbols—that kept gnawing at him. They weren't just random markings; they held meaning, perhaps even the key to defeating the Oracle.

His hand went to the pendant around his neck, the stone warm against his skin. The gift of the Seers had shown him many things, but it had also left him with more questions than answers. The future was a canvas he could shape, but only if he understood the forces at play.

"Can't sleep?"

Elias looked up to see Nyra standing beside him, her sharp eyes catching the firelight. She had an uncanny ability to move silently, her presence often unnoticed until she spoke.

"Too much on my mind," Elias admitted, offering her a small smile. "What about you?"

Nyra sat down across from him, her dark hair falling loosely around her face. "I've never been much for sleep. Too many nightmares."

Elias understood that all too well. His dreams had become a battleground of visions, fragmented images of the future colliding with the weight of the present. The lines between what could happen and what would happen were growing increasingly blurred.

"I keep thinking about the runes," Elias said after a moment. "I feel like they're connected to something bigger, something we're missing."

Nyra's gaze flicked to the pack where the painting was stored, then back to Elias. "You're not wrong. I've studied ancient magic for most of my life, but those runes… they're beyond anything I've seen. They're old, older than the Seers themselves, I think."

Elias frowned. "Older than the Seers?"

Nyra nodded. "There are legends, stories of a time long before the Seers, when the world was shaped by the Forgotten Prophets."

"The Forgotten Prophets?" Elias echoed. He had heard the term once before, in the whispers of old myths, but he had never given it much thought.

"They were said to be the first to see beyond the veil of time," Nyra explained. "But their prophecies were different from those of the Seers. They didn't just see the future—they shaped it, controlled it. They could bend the threads of fate to their will. But over time, their power became too great, too dangerous. Their teachings were lost, their names erased from history. Or so the legends say."

Elias's heart raced. "You think the runes are connected to them?"

"I think it's possible," Nyra said, her voice thoughtful. "The Oracle's power is unlike anything we've seen. If she's somehow tapped into the knowledge of the Forgotten Prophets, it would explain how she's able to manipulate fate so completely. The runes could be part of that ancient magic—a way to bind or control the future itself."

The weight of her words settled over Elias like a heavy cloak. If the Oracle had access to the power of the Forgotten Prophets, then she was far more dangerous than they had realized. And the runes—those strange, pulsing symbols—might hold the key to stopping her.

"We need to find out more about them," Elias said, his voice steady despite the growing sense of dread in his chest. "The scholar—do you think she'll know?"

Nyra nodded. "If anyone can decipher them, it's her. She's spent her life studying the old magic, searching for the lost knowledge of the Prophets. But we'll need to be careful. There are those who would kill to keep that knowledge hidden."

Elias sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Of course there are."

They sat in silence for a while, the fire crackling softly between them. The night felt heavier than usual, the air thick with the weight of unspoken fears. Elias could feel the darkness pressing in from the edges of the forest, the same darkness that had sent those shadow creatures after them.

He couldn't help but wonder what the Forgotten Prophets had seen, what kind of power they had wielded. If the Oracle had somehow uncovered their secrets, then they were fighting an enemy far more ancient and powerful than they had ever imagined.

"We'll figure this out," Nyra said quietly, breaking the silence. "The Oracle may be powerful, but she's not invincible. There's always a way."

Elias nodded, grateful for her confidence. But even as he tried to hold on to that hope, the visions of the future loomed large in his mind. The Oracle's forces were growing, and the war was coming faster than any of them were prepared for.

The next morning, they set out early, their pace quicker than before. The scholar's village was still several days away, but the urgency of their mission weighed heavily on them all. Garrick and Kael led the way, their eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger, while Nyra and Elias followed closely behind, their conversation from the night before still fresh in their minds.

The landscape began to change as they moved south, the rolling hills giving way to rocky cliffs and dense forests. The path they traveled grew narrower, and the air became cooler, the distant peaks of the Avidra Mountains looming ahead like silent sentinels.

By midday, the group reached a fork in the road. One path led deeper into the mountains, a winding trail that disappeared into the mist, while the other led to the village they sought.

"We're close," Nyra said, her eyes fixed on the narrow path that led to the village. "Just beyond those trees."

Elias nodded, his heart pounding in anticipation. They were finally close to answers, close to understanding the secrets hidden in the paint.

As they continued down the path, the trees grew thicker, their branches weaving together overhead like a canopy. The village came into view slowly, its stone houses nestled against the side of a steep hill. It was small, almost forgotten, but there was a sense of ancient power that lingered in the air—a power that seemed to resonate with the painting Elias carried.

"This is the place," Nyra said quietly, her gaze sweeping over the village. "The scholar lives in that house." She pointed to a small, unassuming stone cottage at the edge of the village, its roof covered in moss and ivy.

The group approached cautiously, their footsteps quiet on the dirt path. Elias's heart raced as they neared the cottage. The air was thick with anticipation, the promise of answers just within reach.

Nyra knocked on the door, her expression tense. For a moment, there was no response, and Elias felt a flicker of doubt. But then, the door creaked open, revealing a woman with silver hair and piercing green eyes. She was older, her face lined with age, but there was a sharpness to her gaze that made it clear she was no ordinary scholar.

"Nyra," the woman said, her voice smooth but filled with surprise. "It's been a long time."

"Too long, Arista," Nyra replied with a small smile. "We need your help."

Arista's eyes flicked to Elias, then to Garrick and Kael. "Come inside," she said, stepping aside to let them in. "It's not safe to linger at the door."

They entered the cottage, the air inside warm and filled with the scent of herbs and old parchment. Books lined the shelves, and strange artifacts covered every surface. Arista led them to a small table, where she motioned for them to sit.

Elias could feel the weight of the painting in his pack, the sense that the answers he sought were within reach. But there was something else, too—a sense of danger, of a secret that was too powerful to remain hidden for long.

"What brings you here, Nyra?" Arista asked as she sat across from them. "You wouldn't come all this way unless it was important."

Nyra didn't waste time with pleasantries. "We found something—something old, ancient even. I believe it's connected to the Forgotten Prophets."

Arista's eyes widened slightly. "The Prophets? I thought their knowledge was lost."

Nyra glanced at Elias, who carefully unwrapped the painting and laid it on the table. Arista's gaze fell on the canvas, her expression unreadable as she studied the swirling landscape and the figure of the Oracle at its center.

"These runes," Nyra said, pointing to the symbols at the base of the painting. "They appeared when Elias painted this. I believe they're tied to the Prophets."

Arista leaned in closer, her fingers tracing the outline of the runes without touching them. Her expression grew darker, more serious, as she studied the symbols.

"These are no ordinary runes," Arista said, her voice low. "They're wards, yes, but they're also something more. They're a map."

"A map?" Elias asked, his heart racing.

Arista nodded slowly. "The Prophets left behind many secrets, but none were as dangerous as the one hidden in these runes. They lead to a place—a sanctuary, hidden deep within the mountains, where the Prophets stored their most powerful knowledge."

Nyra's eyes widened. "A sanctuary?"

Arista's expression grew grave. "If the Oracle has uncovered this map, then she's searching for the sanctuary. If she finds it, she'll have access to the power of the Forgotten Prophets. She'll be unstoppable."

Elias felt a chill run down his spine. The painting wasn't just a vision—it was a key to the Oracle's ultimate goal. And now, they had the map that could lead her to it.

"We need to destroy it," Garrick said, his voice hard. "We can't let the Oracle find that place."

Arista shook her head. "Destroying the map won't stop her. She's already searching for the sanctuary. If you want to stop her, you'll need to find it first."

Elias swallowed hard. The weight of the task ahead felt heavier than ever. The sanctuary of the Forgotten Prophets held the key to the Oracle's power, and now, they had to reach it before she did.

"We have no choice," Kael said, his voice steady. "We have to find the sanctuary."

Elias nodded, his mind racing. The future he had seen—the war, the destruction of Arithria—it all led back to this. The sanctuary held the answers, the power to either save or destroy everything.

"Then we go," Elias said, his voice filled with determination. "We'll find the sanctuary, and we'll stop the Oracle."