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 Alvateria Cottage

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DQ Genevieve
Lower Classman
Lower Classman
DQ Genevieve

Posts : 335
Join date : 2009-11-04
Location : Shadow

Personal Archive
Name: Genevieve, Alida, Bavona, Hilda, Jahan V, Arnulf, Vémundr, Aemilia, Ashza, Weilew, Panthea, Otto, Chloris, Amsel, Ramerna and Sister Eenra
Rank: Queen
Love?: In love

PostSubject: Alvateria Cottage   Sat Jan 16, 2010 2:14 am

The small cottage with its falling roof hardly held worthy of praise his father had given it. Jahan V stood beside his horse, several men behind him awaiting his orders.
"Remain here." he murmured, handing the reigns of his horse to a page and striding forward to beat his gloved hand against the warped door.
"Who comes knocking save Jahan's son's son..." a raspy voice cackled. The door opened and he entered, ducking as the low doorframe brushed his noble head.

The priestess was nearly bent in half due to age and appeared to be wasting away. Her long unkept hair was matted and black in colour, giving rise to the belief she held youth despite her age. Her face was hidden behind its thick curtain and for that Jahan was thankful, for he doubted she was a lovely woman. Long gnarled hands with talon like fingers reached for him to come closer, to be seated.

Although messy and as tidy as the priestess herself, the cottage was indeed livable. Sitting in a low and many times repaired chair, Jahan wondered why it was that he had come here. But then he sought answers to his questions. She had given much needed counsel to his grandfather and he hoped she could do the same for him.

"You want what I gave your sire's father." the woman muttered, her black tattered robes swishing about her bent frame. "As the child in the grass."

Jahan had no idea as to what she was referring but choose to remain silent.

"Hair of gold, the gods sent her to deliver destruction to Mystenia. Pale in beauty, pale in shadow did your fools hide her. Bloody hands dipped in the red sea of her lands and she took forth the ring of the throne. A god's child..." The priestess laughed hoarsely, sending chills of revulsion up and down Jahan's back.

"Who is this woman?" he asked.

The woman leapt up in down in a frenzied crazed dance.
"Woman? oh no not woman, Jahan of the fifth... child. The Winter Child. I see her ocean eyes glazed in the tears of her people. Her lips stained red with the hearts of the slain. A firebeast within her bosom."

Jahan's eyes flamed with recognition.
"My Aunt." he murmured. After all, she and her husband, King Wodon had crushed Mystenia. But he had never before heard the prophecy.

"Yes... but also your doom." The priestess cackled, throwing a black powder into a flames of the hearth. An explosion rocked the cottage, throwing Jahan from his chair.
"You see her..." He looked up from the floor, rubbing his sore side.

Indeed he saw his aunt. She lay in the forest, covered in black blood of a dragon.
He had already known the dragon had been slain by her. None of this was helping him.

"And there is her seed..." Oberon was suddenly within the fire, his actions frozen. Jahan only saw his face and his aura of power. So this was the man who dared to think he could keep Jahan from his goal of Mystenia... of the world.

"How can I kill them all?" he asked, looking to the priestess. She covered the fire as the image changed just in time for him to miss Oberon's brother, Theseus.

"Kill... slay..." she murmured. "Only a king can kill this king. And you cannot be said king without the signet." Jahan's chest swelled with indignation.

"Seize it...and all the world shall be yours. The Shadow Child...Winter's Sun, shall wither and her offspring with her."

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