I stand at the end of time, yet aware of the before.
Generation to generation, members of my family (not Daevas) inherit an ability to sense the subtle undulations of Aether. It grants a unique understanding of Aion's essence, its flow between air and earth.
I cannot explain these sensations--not sounds, not sights, but awareness--a vague, ethereal impression. I hear the ponderous strength of life abiding in the ancient starturtle's shell. I smell the mythology hidden in the twigtips of the Elim. I taste the lightning vitality of the Sparkie's arcing wings.
Then today, I saw. I stood at the end of time and I saw. I saw the future and I must leave here.
The light dims. Footsteps hound me and eyes menace in the darkness. I come to write what will be to prevent what I write from coming to be.
Can the reader change the story? I am not this story's author, but rather it's first reader.
Thus rent with regret, I seek safety in shadow.
Book of Prophecy: Moment 1
Before the ink dries on this page, the end begins.
Red light shall curve above. The earth shall sunder. Time and Space shall sink in darkness. Truth shall be buried.
Ten lights shall mark many years, though The Will shall remain silent.
Book of Prophecy: Moment 2
Without Will, destruction shall spread.
Firmament shall take flight. The wheel of time shall fragment. Light and Shadow, sundered, shall clash.
All creatures shall be in chaos.
Book of Prophecy: Moment 3
Through all the years and all the prophets, there shall be one who awakens the dreamer.
The sleep shall be cold and heavy. The thirteenth shall wander two Atreias.
Will shall whisper, "Soon."
Book of Prophecy: Final Moment
One awakened shall find meaning in dreams. Truth shall shed its veils.
Ten lights extinguished, true light shall appear.
All shall be forever changed and Aether, our lifeblood, shall flow into its proper vessel.
