Drustan joined the group. “No, it is not. It is a prophecy.”
Alcander’s eyes flashed over to Drustan. “It has been thousands of years. The world has threatened to end itself a hundred times. No one came.” His voice shook with anger Kiora didn’t fully understand. “No one ever came,” he yelled.
“She is here now,” Drustan said calmly.
As quickly as it came, Alcander’s emotional outburst vanished—replaced by a
mask of indifference. His breathing returned to normal. It was if he just- turned the emotion off.
“Come,” Alcander said, walking past them and heading further into the cave.
The caves at home were not usually as bad as Kiora expected them to be; they’d been more like carved-out homes. But this one was a cave in the traditional sense. The walls narrowed as they went deeper, until her shoulders were rubbing cold stone in places. The breeze generated by the falls quickly gave way to stale and musty air so thick Kiora could taste it. The group was silent as their feet crunched along.
“Kiora,” Alcander said, coming to a stop. “Would you mind providing some light?”
Crouching, Kiora lit a small fire next to her.
“We will need more than that.”
She increased the size of the flame, then moved forward and lit two more.
“What is this?” Emane whispered.
Kiora looked around. They had entered a larger cavern, and the walls were covered with ancient paintings. The paint was fading in sections but the pictures were still clear—battle scenes. Kiora turned in a circle, taking in the full scope. The ranks on both sides stretched across the walls. Taking a step closer she squinted, and then wished she hadn’t. Creatures lay bloodied and dying throughout the scene. Fires burned, taking victims with it as well. Kiora’s hand moved to her mouth, stifling a cry.
“What is this place?” Emane repeated, scanning the panoramic paintings.
Alcander kept his eyes focused, not on the painting, but on Kiora. “This is where the ancient prophet Lomay spent much of his time painting the things he saw.”
“Lomay?” Kiora tore her eyes away from the devastation. “You know Lomay?”
Alcander’s eyes tightened. “Yes.”
Emane walked past Kiora, running his fingers over the rock. “Why are you showing us this?”
Alcander crossed to the far wall. “Because of this,” he said, jabbing his finger towards a specific section.
The lights and shadows flickered across the old paint, forcing Kiora, Emane, and Drustan to walk closer. Painted there was a large, dark, faceless Shadow looming over two people. Two people that looked almost exactly like Kiora and Emane. Slight differences in facial features, but there was no denying who it was supposed to be. Kiora was lying on the ground, hand outstretched, a look of horror on her face. Between her and the Shadow stood Emane, shield in hand, sword pointing at the darkness with a green snake wrapped around his arm and shoulder. Kiora gasped. Even the sword in the painting was an exact match to Emane’s. It was gold, with a heavily jeweled hilt. If you looked closely you could see the outlines of the Wings of Arian on it.
“Whoa.” That was all Emane could muster.
The tremors started in Kiora’s hands, moving up her arms and through her body. This is what awaited them. She had thought for a brief foolish second the scene had already happened, a past she had never known. But this was the future. These paintings—prophecies—made the battle with Dralazar look miniature in comparison. Her heart shuddered and threatened to cleave in two. Grabbing at her chest with a groan, Kiora sunk to her knees. Emane was at her side a moment later, wrapping his arms around her.
“It’s too much,” Kiora gasped. “So much worse than before.” She felt the weight of her calling settle further on her shoulders, weighing her down. So many lives resting in her hands. “Look at it, Emane, so much pain.” She buried her head in his shoulder, sobbing. “I can’t bear it.”
“Is it true?” Alcander demanded loudly. “Are you the Solus?”
Emane glared at Alcander as he pulled Kiora closer to him. “Now is not the time, Alcander.”
“No,” Kiora said through a sob, pushing gently off Emane’s shoulder. “It’s all right.” Wiping her eyes, she took a stuttering breath. “Yes. I am.”
Alcander’s eyes flickered between them, processing. “You!” He pointed his finger accusingly at Emane. “You are the Protector?”
Emane inclined his chin. “I am.” Rising to his feet, he pulled Kiora up with him. “And I will protect her in every way.”