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The Seer

The wind whips her face as she spins around. The forest surrounding her is dark and silent. No one is there. That she can see. She runs on. Her already ripped clothes are stained by blood as twigs scratch her from all angles. She cannot leave this place. She is trapped, rejected by her people, left to starve here in the Middlelands, the wasted forests between the kingdoms of Warshak and Landaconna. She has been abandoned, just as her mother was. As soon as she thinks of her she screams. But her voice is cut short and she stands, still as stone. Staring into the past, present and future. A few minutes pass and the vision ends. She falls to the ground with exhaustion and grief. Too tired and scared even to cry. She lets herself fall into the blackness. She wakes up. Sleep clouds her mind and she can’t remember where she is. She hears a snap behind her and leaps up, instantly awake. Her dirty, tangled hair, as black as night, swirls up and lashes her face. She is wild. Her face is twisted with too many emotions. Her knees bent, fingers curled, her whole body tense and ready for flight. Or to fight. Her eyes swivel around, trying to find a weapon on the ground, but also trying not to leave the place where the sound came from. She flinches as the wind howls through the trees. The trees. So old. So dead. She closes her eyes for a few seconds, allowing her body to relax. She is the One. The Elitar. The Special one. She knows she must not let her emotions overflow. For the world is in her hands. She must survive and spread the word. She must not die here. Not here. She hears another sound. Her eyes shoot open. A light is flying towards her. So pretty. So golden. So deadly. She yelps and wraps her arms around her head in an instinctive attempt to protect herself. She waits for death. She waits. Yet she hears no slap of wind as the disc of power shoots through the air towards her. She feels no pain. Hears no scream escaping her lips or a triumphant yell as the disc thrower appears. She peeks out from behind her hands. Pure shining light surrounds her. She frowns slightly, shaking her head. She sits down on the light at her feet. She doesn’t understand why she isn’t dead. Or is she? Is this heaven? Surely not hell. But then again, who is she to say what heaven is when her life is the hell that people so dread. She stands up and peers at the bubble of light that she is in. Or is she surrounded by it? Is it never ending light, like the mist on a frosty morning that the children run to catch? But they can never catch it, for it is around them in the first place. She reaches out to touch the light, then gasps as her fingers meet the light and tingle. It is solid. Is that what the power disc did? Surround her in light? But what for? She walks forward another step and reaches out her hand again. Her fingers meet the solid light. She pushes harder and they slide through. It''s cold outside. But she walks forward again. Her whole arm goes out into the cold. Then she pokes her head out before her body. She is surrounded, encircled by women in shining white robes, so crisp and clean in the disturbing darkness that they really seem to glow. One of them gestures with their hand and the ball of light flickers and disappears. They all have glistening golden or bright brown hair that flows half way down their backs, with pale skin and delicate faces. Every one of them seems strangely alike the next, they have the sort of faces that you forget within seconds of seeing. But that isn''t the strangest thing. Every single woman has a small white veil that covers her eyes, stopping where her nose ends. The girl stands her ground, tensed up so her terrified shivering doesn''t show. One of the women, their leader she supposes, steps forward. Up until now every face was solemn; absent of all emotions, but this woman smiles broadly. The woman encircling the girl slowly and methodically retreat from their perfect circle formation and line up behind their leader. They are all smiling now. The girl stumbles backwards, unsure. But the lead woman steps forward again and takes both her hands. "My name is Yarathell," she says. The girl shudders and trembles like a moth; too full of adrenaline. "Ar... Arana," the girl stutters, offering her name. Yarathell''s smile broadens. "I know," she says. She lets go of Arana''s hand briefly to lift her veil. The girl gasps as she looks up into the woman''s eyes. They are colourless, yet they contain all colour, they swirl and glow with it. The black pupil at the centre is small, yet it shouldn''t be, for the lack of light. They are strange and breathtaking, and they mirror her own. “Who are you?’ Arana asks. “I am a seer, like yourself. I see the past, the present, and the future. But you, you are the One. You have seen what we will become,” the woman’s face flickers, the elegant lines of her face contorted maliciously. But only for an instant, and Arana dismisses it as a trick of the darkness. “How do you know?” Arana asks haltingly. “I am a seer. I had a vision that you would be here, I knew who you were from my people’s prophecy. And I only threw that disc to slow you. I didn’t want you to run away,” she explains quickly, “Oh,” Arana murmurs. “So what will happen? In the future! What will we become? Who will rule the lands? What will happen to the people?” Yarathell demands. Her face seems to flicker again, transforming into a monstrosity with black skin and a snake’s tongue. Arana shudders. She is tired, and hungry. She dismisses it again. “Well…there is a great war. Billions and billions die. But when we repopulate, we change. Everyone forgets about the magic…we become a science-based race…we build things that hurt the earth…that hurt us…its horrible…” Arana mutters, gazing off into the distance, visiting the horrific sights of her vision again. “What else? What else is there!” cries Yarathell, almost shaking Arana. Arana glares at the woman. “We carry on hurting the earth, and we carry on hurting ourselves, even though we know we’re doing it. We just carry on and on and on. Until…until there is no one left. We kill ourselves off…That’s why I am here. I must spread the word. I must make sure my vision does not come true,” Arana murmurs, her young voice filled with sadness and the weight of knowledge. All the woman have leant forward to hear her slight voice. Yarathell growls. Arana glances at her. The colourless eyes are gone, replaced by white slits in her black skin. She has a human form, two arms and legs, with ivory coloured claws of bone on her fingers and toes. But her smile is what strikes fear into Arana’s heart. It is more wicked than any smile a human could muster. More enticing and discouraging than anything she had ever seen. “Who are you?” Arana whispers, walking backwards, her face shockingly pale beneath her black hair. All the women are in their true form now, and they chant as one: “We are the darkness you have seen. We will make sure your vision comes true. We will pollute the hearts of man and control their actions. We are the darkness!” Arana stops walking and holds her head high. “Never! There will always be those who are of the light, not the dark! There will always be ones that believe, deep down, in the magic! You will fail!” she cries, full of authority despite her age. And then Arana is gone, vanishing into thin air. She has gone to spread the word, to spread the light.