Two figures trounce through the halls of the Platinum Palace. "Hurry up boy! We have a time constraint on this one!" The older human said taking the lead. He was dressed as your stereotypical wizard. Flashy robe, grey beard, pointy hat, magic staff, the works. Yet, he wore it with a sense of ironic pride. "Master Zackaria, my aunt's predictions aren't always correct." The half-elven man behind him spoke. His medium silver hair lofted behind him as their speed walk turned into an almost light jog. He's barely holding onto the box of scrolls and parchments as they take a sharp turn in the hall.
"Nonsense my boy! That fire fox never gets anything wrong! Just a little bit of blood and I basically win the lottery with her!" Zackaria stated triumphantly.
"Yes she's a great Blood Seer." The half-elf replied. "But, even the greatest can be wrong." He then spoke under his breath. "She keeps them vague enough for you so you always think she's perfect."
"Oh please Prince Garam! Whenever she makes a prediction she always 'thinks' she saw something, but this time she just 'saw' it. No thinking. Which means it's a certainty."
"Are you sure she wasn't just trying to get you to leave her alone for once?"
"Ha! And miss out on my charm? She would never."
The two finally meet their destination; a large windowless cylindrical room with a skylight at the top. The entrance area was full of shelves filled with scrolls, parchment, and magical components. At the center of the room lie the drawing of a magic circle. Bowls sit on the cardinal edges with lit braziers on the corners. Prince Garam sets the box down as he starts gathering materials for the circle. He continues the conversation.
"I know some of the maids would consider you a silver fox, but my aunt has a good 400 years on you. I don't think she counts as a 'young maiden' for you to hunt down."
"Even if that's true, translate it to human years and she's still 45! That's still in my ran-- Dammit boy! The phoenix feather goes in the northern bowl, not the eastern!"
"Aeh! Sorry master! -- Also can we stop talking about you trying to woo my aunt? It makes me sick just thinking about you two in -- eugh -- bed together."
"Oh fine. You're no fun anymore. What happen to the boy I could just have a conversation with? No formalities, just magic and drama?"
"Just talk about literally anything but her please."
"Whatever. Shut up. I'm beginning the chant. Remember, the Hero is always pulled out of some sort of conflict. So be prepared for a swinging sword, a flying arrow, or some sort of doomsday spell."
Zackaria stands at the edge of the circle with an old tome on hand. The leather has been worn down through ages as the pages have greatly yellowed. Garam stood at the ready, magic scroll on hand. A spell that could restrain a person if need be. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it, but it's better to be safe than sorry.
Garam stood in a silent awe. He knew this ritual has been casted in the past, but it always took about 12 mages worth of mana. Zackaria couldn't afford 11 other mages though. In fact he couldn't afford himself. He wasn't instructed to do this. He's doing it on his own volition against the King's orders. The King believed he could win the war without the Hero. Zackaria has a different opinion, and is now risking his life for some sort of salvation.
Garam watched as wisps of magic seeped from his master's hands and face. This went on for a solid 20 minutes as a rainbow ball of coalesced mana gathered at the circle's center. The chant Zackaria read was more like an epic poem, or a history lesson to the unimaginative. Even as the color of his eyes slowly fade, and his face visibly withered he kept chanting.
Suddenly, the mana exploded outward. A wave knocking both Zackaria and Garam on their rears. The both got their bearings and looked to the circle to see...
Nothing.
Not a thing.
The circle is gone, the components consumed. That means the spell was a success! Right?
But where's the hero?
One of the palace guards slams the door open. "What happened in here?!" Zackaria barely gets to his knees before collapsing. "If the hero isn't here then they're somewhere else." Zackaria thought.
"There's an intruder in the palace. " He got out through pained breathing. "I want them alive, do you understand?"
"Yes, Court Mage Sir!"