Prophecy

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Merran crossed the threshold and gasped in surprise. While the store appeared to be small on the outside it was massive on the inside. She assumed the illusion was on account of the mirrors that lined every inch of the interior. It wasn't only the walls, floor, and roof, but the doors, the decorations — even the furniture. It was disconcerting. The angles made it impossible to tell where the shopkeeper was.

"Merran," reverberated in the air, "come on sweet pea."

She followed the voice through an open door, up a flight of stairs and into a cosy outdoor sitting room that thankfully had no mirrors. In their place was a view that was quite splendid. The second floor overlooked the night market. It flashed with spasms of colours and the chorus of voices and music swept over her. The woman was lounging in a great chair, and she smiled when Merran arrived.

"At last," the woman said mystically, "the end begins.

"Sit sit," she pointed to a cushy chair opposite to her while she poured a steaming brew into a large cup. It smelt of mint and lemon. "Drink, it's your favourite."

Merran sat, taking the cup without a second thought. It was all too weird. She couldn't even find the words.

"You're confused," the woman said as if that were an unknown fact, and she was answering some unasked question. In fact, everything about the woman seemed mythical. From her elaborate hairdo, done up with Perrin feathers, to her over the top make-up, blood red lip stick, pale base, and the glittering blue eyeliner. She wore so much jewellery that the pieces reflected the lights of the night life below.

"Who are you?" Merran finally managed, taking a sip of tea, it was bitter just the way she liked it — she held it as far away from her as she could. What on earth was she thinking, sipping something offered by a stranger.

The woman seemed to realise her internal crisis and reached for her cup, her bracelets jingling with the movement. She grabbed the cup, took a sip, and then handed it back.

Merran managed a small thanks.

"I've no intention of harming you Merran of Temis, my name is Olga Dia and I have seen your future...'

The music sounded louder in her ears, the lights flashed until it was almost blinding, but Olga just sat in her chair, watching, waiting...

"You're a seer?"

Olga nodded, her chin wobbling with the movement. The brightness of the lights revealed her wrinkled yellowing skin, and aged eyes, a dulling green.

"You don't believe in me, in my powers, but you do believe in this," Olga held out a hand and Merran sucked in a breath.

Resting in the setting of the huge ring was a pale rose stone. A Gift-stone.

"Impossible," she said despite it being right in front of her. The rose gifts were supposed to be extinct. The ability to see the future destroyed by a king who granted only God that right.

Olga didn't deny anything, she simply folded her beefy hands onto her lap and began her tale.

"I've seen this moment many times Merran of Temis," her voice was distant, as if she were recalling a long-forgotten memory, "I knew when to interrupt your investigation of the Sulphite smuggler, after, you got the information you needed and before she killed you for it."

The lights and music were a frenzy now, blaring sound, dancing colours.

"Here is the last bit of information I can provide..." She paused, and so did the lights, the music, everything stilled as if the festival took a breath. "You will take up the King's Gift ability and the Shield will fall. The Forician's will come. You will need allies. You will need the creatures of Zandok and Jeraille or Temis will fall, and then Aradia will sink. They are coming! Be ready."

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