"When the beast beneath roots awakens, a child shall wander where wings lead. His laughter will stir the silence, his steps will break the barrier. From innocence shall rise calamity, and from calamity, the Lord of Shadows shall reign. Far from the city, the forest swallowed Mandle's small figure. The butterfly's wings glowed faintly in the dim light, guiding him deeper into the thickets where the air grew colder, heavier. The trees seemed to lean closer, their branches whispering secrets.
A sound broke the silence—a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the earth. Mandle froze. His mismatched eyes widened, searching the gloom. From beneath the roots of an ancient oak, two vast eyes glowed, amber and unblinking. The beast stepped forward, its massive form sliding out of shadow. Fur bristled like storm clouds, claws scraped stone, and its breath came in heavy gusts that stirred the leaves. The boy's sand-stained hands trembled, yet he did not run. The creature lowered its head, sniffing the air, its fangs gleaming faintly. Then, in a voice that was more thunder than speech, it whispered: "So… you are the one." Mandle's lips parted, but no sound came.
The butterfly reappeared, circling once above his head, then darting toward the beast's muzzle. The monster's eyes followed it, and for a heartbeat, the forest held its breath. Then—through the trees—Hoj's voice rang out, desperate and raw: "Mandle!"
The Prophecy.
"When the beast beneath roots awakens, a child shall wander where wings lead. His laughter will stir the silence, his steps will break the barrier. From innocence shall rise calamity, and from calamity, the Lord of Shadows shall reign. Far from the city, the forest swallowed Mandle's small figure. The butterfly's wings glowed faintly in the dim light, guiding him deeper into the thickets where the air grew colder, heavier. The trees seemed to lean closer, their branches whispering secrets.
A sound broke the silence—a low, rumbling growl that vibrated through the earth. Mandle froze. His mismatched eyes widened, searching the gloom. From beneath the roots of an ancient oak, two vast eyes glowed, amber and unblinking. The beast stepped forward, its massive form sliding out of shadow. Fur bristled like storm clouds, claws scraped stone, and its breath came in heavy gusts that stirred the leaves. The boy's sand-stained hands trembled, yet he did not run. The creature lowered its head, sniffing the air, its fangs gleaming faintly. Then, in a voice that was more thunder than speech, it whispered: "So… you are the one." Mandle's lips parted, but no sound came.
The butterfly reappeared, circling once above his head, then darting toward the beast's muzzle. The monster's eyes followed it, and for a heartbeat, the forest held its breath. Then—through the trees—Hoj's voice rang out, desperate and raw: "Mandle!"
The beast's ears twitched. Its eyes flicked toward the sound, then back towards the boy. "Your protector comes. But he cannot shield you from destiny." With a final growl, the creature melted back into the darkness, its massive form swallowed by roots and stone. The forest fell silent once more. Mandle stood trembling, his heart pounding, until his father's arms wrapped around him. Hoj pulled him close, fierce relief flooding his face. "I told you not to wander," he whispered, voice breaking. But as he held his son, Hoj felt the earth beneath them—still trembling faintly, as if something vast stirred below. He looked toward the barrier, unease gnawing at him.
Far away, in the marble halls of the city, the City Lord gazed into the candle's flame, his smile sharp and unhinged. "The child has met the beast," he murmured. "The game begins." The candle flickered and then came darkness.