Myrddin

Thunder roars, a flash of lightning illuminates the black sky as it cracks across the sky, the rain drenching my feathers wet as the wind pushes against me. It would be wiser to shelter from the storm but time is of the essence, even as nature is against me I cannot falter. The sun peeks out of the horizon as I cross the sea and mountains, shining bright at its highest once I reach the Great City of Mystival, home to the council of Archmages.

I can see everything from above, people gathering from different Empires, Republics and Kingdoms for the Archmage's tournament. Fools who have forgotten but we remember. The Seekers always remember. I reach the heart of the city, soaring over the high walls of the palace that separates the decorated mages from the rest of the population, lesser mages and commoners both.

Amidst the landscape of gardens and courtyards, I glide down towards the central dome of the palace, the great hall where the Archmages hold their council. Perching on the frame of the open window I see the twelve Archmages discussing among themselves in the large and circular hall with high ceiling. Each Archmage sits on their respective throne, perched on balconies spaced evenly between them on the walls seemingly calm but the air around them seethes with magic.

I've done my best to hide my magic, but they detect it regardless—a testament to their affinity for it. They are tyrants and yet, they are the most powerful of us, revered by most if not all. The people would not hear me out, but they will obey them without question...and thus they are my only hope to save everyone in this city.

I land at the centre of the marble floor, green light piercing out of my feathered body with a hum of magic, then a swirling vortex of green energy surrounds me. My wings fold inward, enlarging and reshaping into arms. My feathers melt away as they turn to smooth olive skin, my beak receding into a nose, and my talons transforming into fingers. When the shimmering veil withers I have returned to my human form, standing tall and proud in my seeker's robe.

"What is the meaning of this? Who are you?" One of the Archmages bellows, the oldest among them and yet none the wiser, we truly have been forgotten. "I am one of the Seekers, here to warn of a coming apocalypse."

"A Seeker?" Another Archmage intrudes, "Here I thought they've all perished in that temple of theirs." The others laugh. "Begone, Seeker, we have no time for rambling prophets."

Rambling prophets? Far from it. We are the ones who passed down knowledge from the generations before us, thousands of years in the past...a vision of the future foreseen by the Silver Maiden. The greatest dreamer of old. We are not prophets, merely seekers of knowledge who have uncovered the memory of a distant past, and with it the prophecy.

"The day of our Reckoning draws near, the fog spreads wide and is fast approaching. Soon the sun will rise from the west, and with it our doom. We must flee to the forgotten lands before the creatures beneath the earth are unleashed upon us!" A hand places itself on my right shoulder, a grip that is cold and tight, then another hand grips my left shoulder. The guards are eager to throw me out.

"Hold." The Archmage Cairn stands, massive and tall as the hills, a master of earth and soil. Destroyer of mountains and cities. "You speak of an ancient prophecy, Seeker, but this is Mystival—home to many great mages to ever roam the earth. Even if what you believe is true...we will endure."

"Pride comes before the fall, great magisters." I free myself from the hands that grip my shoulders. Blessed with so much power that they believed they could rival God. Indeed, they have walked the earth as gods, revered and feared by everyone and yet, would they be able to turn the tides of fate and challenge the prophecy of the ancients? "If you will not heed my warning, then I will find others who will."