Dreslya sat in quiet meditation. She tried to calm her shattered nerves and focus her energies toward some spell, some magic that might penetrate the mysterious fog that obscured all vision into the forest and the evil entrenched in its depths. Her earlier sorrow had given way to anger and frustration at being unable to deal firsthand with the dangers that threatened the Reach. Nivael had delivered the message of her sister's likely death. Dreslya felt compelled to do what Elisandrya might have done in her place, though it pained her to resist the desires of Savras as told by the high oracle. For Sameska, she felt nothing but pity. The mad look in the high oracle's eyes had convinced her that the prophecy had driven Sameska mad, unstable with fear and anxiety over the terrible visions and words of the All-Seeing One. Never before had such a prediction shaken the church so, and Sameska was searching for enemies and heretics on all sides. Dreslya knew something had to be done, even if it meant her own death.
Elisandrya's sacrifice deserved at least that much. Her mother's old spellbook lay at her side, its pages yellowed and the cover well worn, but the magic within was as potent as the day the ink had first been set to paper. The scrying she intended to cast was more powerful than any she'd done before. She hadn't had the need for such spells in the past, but her skill was more than she needed for the task. Several oracles already believed she would succeed Sameska when the time came, but Dreslya took their praise in stride. She had not joined the faith to become its leader, but to honor the tradition, as had her mother.
She lit a candle on the windowsill and sat on the edge of her bed, closing her eyes and calling the words of the spell to the forefront of her mind. Out of habit she prefaced the spell by whispering a small prayer to Savras. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her will to speak the words of magic that would carry her sight beyond the walls of the temple to find the source of the threat that hung over them. The breath was forced from her body as a bright and shining light burst behind her eyes, letting loose a dam of power that flooded through her mind. Her spell was lost, forgotten as she fell limply backward into the gentle grip of something unfamiliar. She tried to resist for a moment, frightened and unsure of what was happening, but she felt no pain and sensed no threat. Her breathing slowed as she gave in to the experience, accepting it. A peaceful warmth covered her body then, even as terrible visions began forming among her thoughts.
"Your people are dying, Sameska." Quin's voice was a mere whisper, but it carried unnaturally above the raging storm outside. Sameska set her lips in a thin line and narrowed her eyes, fighting the fear that radiated from him in waves. He enjoyed her obvious discomfort. "In this chamber," she said, "you shall refer to me as High Oracle." "In this chamber," he replied, "I shall speak as I wish." The oracles gasped at his audacious words, though several of them seemed intrigued by the scene that was playing out before them. They eyed him curiously in a manner he was accustomed to, though it was not altogether comfortable. Outwardly he ignored them, but in truth he despised their quiet perusal and hoped the power of his shadow led them to believe he was nothing less than a demon. He further confounded their judgment of his humanity as he pushed the hood from his head and let it rest upon his shoulders. His pale eyes found each of them as he swept his gaze across the group. He wondered, briefly, if unfolding events would lead him to kill them and their high oracle. "Why have you come here?"
Sameska's question disrupted his dark thoughts, and he shook off pondering what blood would be spilled to end his time in this affair.
He had no desire to harm any of them, only the determination to do so if warranted. "I assumed you might tell me, Lady Prophet." He smiled as he answered, though venom dripped from his words. "Your prediction seems certain about leaving your people defenseless, but it is lacking in details where I am concerned, eh?" The high oracle flushed in anger and held her breath as his hand brushed against Bedlam's pommel.
Though she was a mystery to him, she played to his suppositions easily. "You have no right, warrior, to come in here and demand anything of me or my people!" His smile disappeared. "It seems I have every right, prophet! I have come here of my own accord. I have heard prophecy that labels me a savior, and I see a people who are aware of a coming destruction and do nothing!" "This is who we are!" "No!" His voice thundered through the room. "This is who you were. According to your own words, should I fail or walk away, your people will be obliterated!" Elisandrya gasped behind him. He regretted the effect his words might have on her, but he could not allow the truth of the matter to be obscured by Sameska's righteousness. Should he choose to abandon this prophecy, then by her own words, Brookhollow would be destroyed. Deep down, he felt a spike of shame. Should that occur, he would mourn only one death among those many. The long silence that followed felt like eternity, filling the sanctuary with its heavy import. Quin studied Sameska and noticed several oracles seemed intrigued by his argument rather than frightened. They nodded and looked to her for a response. "You bring only disrespect into this temple, Elisandrya," Sameska said, ignoring Quin. "You tamper with prophecy and now seem shocked when your actions succeed?" "You have not addressed his argument, High Oracle." Eli's gaze became steel and she stepped away from Quin. He could see the look of betrayal dawning in her eyes. "What of his choice?" "Savras provides," Sameska began through clenched teeth. "Your presence here confirms his wisdom, his sight. We do not rely on your goodwill, Hoarite and have no faith in coincidence. Such is our way." Quin shook his head, smiling bitterly as he looked at the floor. "Yes, I know. I've heard this before." Quin remembered that old man, standing in Targris beside the smoking ruin that had been the center of the town's faith. Under normal circumstances, he imagined their dogma might have merit, but death had infected that equation. In light of the prophecy and what he believed to be its purpose, he could not help but think they deserved what fate had in store for them. "You cannot see because you are blind to the hidden circle around us all," Sameska said in a condescending tone.