The old man had taught Dorothy many things about life, the people in it, the vast places she'd never seen, and the many wonders of the world. His wisdom was like an endless stream, always flowing with new lessons. He guided her through ideas and experiences, making the world seem vast and filled with meaning. Dorothy cherished these teachings as they had shaped her understanding of the world, bringing clarity and depth to everything she encountered.
One bright morning, Dorothy decided to visit the old man, eager to hear more of his wisdom. But when she arrived at the forest where his cabin once stood, she was met with an eerie silence. The cabin was gone, vanished without a trace. There was no sign of the old man, and the familiar path that led to his home had disappeared. Dorothy stood there, perplexed, wondering if she had arrived in the wrong place, but the absence of everything she knew felt wrong, unnatural. She called out for him, but the forest remained still.
She returned every day for weeks, combing the area tirelessly. But no matter how many times she searched, she found nothing. Weeks turned into months, months into years, yet the old man and his cabin never reappeared. Dorothy never gave up hope, her heart still clung to the idea that one day she would find him again. But the years passed, and the search grew more painful with each fruitless attempt.
Then, after what felt like a lifetime, Dorothy had a strange, unsettling dream. In it, the old man appeared to her, his face kind and knowing, as if he had been watching her all along. He told her, softly, that she should stop searching for him. His voice was calm, but there was a weight in his words that made her shiver. "Never tell anyone about me," he instructed, his gaze piercing through her. He then gently covered her eyes with his left hand, his fingers cool against her skin. "Take this with you, it's a gift I prepared for you," he said, and when he spoke, Dorothy felt a surge of something indescribable, something that made her soul stir.
When she awoke, everything was different. Her vision, once clear and sharp, had become strange, distorted, unsettling. But what did she mean by "weird"? You might be wondering, so let me explain. At times, things would appear perfectly normal—people, food, and objects all looked the way they should. But other times, they would shift, fading into dull, lifeless shades of grey. It was as though she was watching an old movie with no color, just the stark contrast of black and white. But that wasn't the worst of it.
There were moments when the people around her seemed wrong, fractured—she could see them not as one person, but as three distinct figures, each performing a different action, like a puzzle that refused to fit. And there were visions, strange and terrifying, of creatures from worlds beyond her understanding—winged beings that resembled angels, horned creatures that could only be demons, orcs, and other mystic beings that defied logic. Sometimes, these creatures weren't just visions—they were real. They existed in the world around her, though only she could see them.
And then, there were the moments when her visions came true. What she saw would happen—events unfolding as she had witnessed them, with an uncanny accuracy that frightened her. Yet, despite all the strangeness, Dorothy couldn't make sense of it. She had no one to talk to about it, no one who could understand the gift—or curse—that had been placed upon her. So, in an effort to block out the constant flood of unsettling sights, she began to cover her eyes with a bandage, hiding the chaos that she could no longer control.
Now, let me share something important about Dorothy. You see, she was an orphan. She had grown up in an orphanage, a place where she had never truly felt at home. It was a lonely existence, but it had shaped her, made her resilient.
One day, as Dorothy walked through the streets, her eyes hidden behind the bandage, she was guided by a little boy who had taken it upon himself to help her. It was then that she had a fateful encounter, an encounter that would change everything.
As they walked, a man appeared in their path. His presence was unsettling, something about him felt wrong. Without a word, he reached out and grabbed Dorothy's hand. His touch was cold—cold like the touch of a corpse. At first, she felt a strange sensation, as though the skin of her hand was frozen, a chill running up her arm. But then, the feeling deepened. Goosebumps spread across her skin, and her heart began to race in an unnatural rhythm. It was as if her body was betraying her, a cold fear rushing through her veins. She could hardly breathe, her chest tightening as if she had just run a marathon. The sensation of being touched by something not quite human overwhelmed her, and for a moment, she thought her mind might break.
The man spoke in a deep, gentle tone that made her shiver. "Have you by chance met an old man in the forest?" he asked.
At the sound of those words, something in Dorothy snapped. Her heart pounded even faster, and her body seemed to lose all strength. The world around her tilted as if gravity itself had given up on holding her upright. Her vision blurred, her eyelids growing heavy. Before she could even grasp what was happening, she fainted, the world around her dissolving into darkness.
And so begins a new chapter in Dorothy's journey. What does this encounter mean? Why does the man ask about the old man? And what is the true purpose of the gift the old man gave her? Dorothy has yet to understand, but her path is about to take a turn into the unknown.
Dorothy stirred awake, finding herself lying on a soft bed in a room she didn't recognize. The dim lighting cast long shadows on the walls, and the faint scent of lavender lingered in the air. Her head felt heavy, and a dull ache pulsed at her temples. As she tried to sit up, the creak of the door caught her attention.
A man stepped into the room, carrying a glass of water. His appearance was as unfamiliar as the room: tall, with a calm yet enigmatic demeanour. His eyes studied her carefully, but his tone was reassuring.
"Don't panic," he said gently, handing her the water. "We brought you here after you fainted."
Dorothy blinked, accepting the glass. "How long have I been like this?" she asked, her voice hoarse and shaky.
"It's been about two hours," the man replied, his gaze steady.
Her mind raced. "What happened to Mark? The boy who guided me—where is he?"
The man offered a small, reassuring smile. "He's downstairs. Don't worry; he's fine. I see you've calmed down now. I meant no harm."
Dorothy hesitated, her heart still pounding. "Do you know the old man who lives in the woods?" she asked, her tone cautious.
The man chuckled softly, his expression cryptic. "Let's say I do."
She leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "Where is he?"
His demeanor shifted slightly, as if weighing his words carefully. "I don't know," he admitted. "He's always been a hard man to find. But…" He studied her intently, his eyes narrowing. "Those eyes of yours… How long do you plan to hide such incredible gifts?"
Dorothy stiffened, her voice rising with frustration. "What do you mean by incredible gifts? These eyes are a curse!"
The man shook his head, his expression one of mild amusement mixed with intrigue. "You're fascinating," he said. "I never thought I'd hear someone call the eyes of a celestial a curse." He muttered under his breath, almost as if to himself, "That crazy old man must not have told her."
Her confusion deepened. "What are you talking about? What is a celestial? Explain."
He gestured for her to come closer, his voice softening. "From your reaction, it's clear you know nothing about these eyes. Come here. Let me help you, since that old fool left you in the dark."
Cautiously, Dorothy edged closer, her instincts torn between trust and fear. The man gently placed his hand over her right eye, his touch surprisingly warm. He murmured strange, melodic words under his breath, words she couldn't understand but felt resonate deep within her. After a moment, he removed the bandage and stepped back.
"There," he said. "Everything will be fine from now on. I've sealed your right eye and reduced the strength of the left. Take your time adapting to them—they'll save you from the dangers ahead."
Dorothy stared at him, her mind swimming with questions, but his calm confidence left her oddly reassured. After thirty minutes of conversation, she thanked him and reunited with Mark.
As they left, Dorothy began to notice subtle changes. Her right eye had returned to normal, but her left revealed the world in strange hues and shapes. Over time, she learned to interpret some of these signs. When objects appeared grey, they were untrustworthy. When food glowed green, it was poisoned. And when she saw a single person as three distinct figures, it meant their fate could still be altered.
Her newfound abilities changed everything. In time, Dorothy became known as a prophet. Tales of her visions and wisdom spread like wildfire, reaching even the ears of kings who ruled vast lands.