The candlelight flickered as the seer traced trembling fingers over the surface of the ancient stone altar. The scent of burnt sage and incense filled the chamber, mingling with the tension that crackled in the air like a coming storm. Eldoria had known peace for generations, but the visions spoke of shadows stretching across the land, of war and ruin beyond measure.
"Tell me what you see." The voice of Lord Eldrin, High Mage of the Council, was steady, but his clenched fists betrayed his unease.
The seer's milky-white eyes stared beyond the veil of the present, into the tangled web of fate. "The Crown of Eternis will be shattered," she whispered, her voice distant, otherworldly. "Its power scattered to the winds. And in the wake of its destruction, a warrior shall rise from the ashes of the fallen."
Lord Eldrin stiffened. "A warrior?"
"The child of prophecy," the seer intoned. "Marked by fate, burdened by destiny. He will walk a path of fire and blood, and only through him shall Eldoria be made whole once more."
The chamber grew deathly silent. The Council mages exchanged worried glances. Prophecies were rarely so precise, and never without consequence.
The seer shuddered, her breath ragged. "Beware the tyrant king," she gasped. "For his greed shall break the world."
The candle's flame extinguished, plunging the chamber into darkness.