Two thousand years ago, during the Solaria season, the hottest period in Orinthia, a sudden gust of wind started blowing out of nowhere. The people sighed in momentary relief until the wind grew heavier as minutes passed.
Screams could be heard across the city as the wind destroyed things and created havoc. This would be the first in history where there was a presence of wind during the Solaria season, and it was a heavy one at that.
The temple walls started shaking as the portraits that hung on the wall started falling to the ground and the glass shattering into pieces.
In the sacred room of the temple, three priests could be seen furiously trying their best to avert any calamity when an invisible hand appeared from nowhere and started carving the wall in a strange language:
"Λɇđrαψỉ 1ξŧhıяů₳ ηθшśaḿ εlłąs, ƒør thɇяε łỉɇś thɇ ŧгůȿŧ σƒ ẓųlŋıα 9šтεɘnђ! Bę₴¢ήίτ μό҉ńἷд4!"
The walls trembled, and the carvings extended across the stone, glowing brighter with every word as the prophecy unfolded:
"ŧħě άŋ¢íęйţ śeάʟѕ ąяє śμภмøиėđ fяȯm Ðuṥќ. Øиě ŵíłł яaṗŧůяє τħɇ łįgħţ; аиøτħɇя ŵïłł şpęа҉ķ τħɇ σвś¢ůѓę ρгọ҉ρħɇţś. ẏξτ... 7đėαťħ şɧąļļ лøţ βĕ τħě łąŝţ ρąƴмęńτ!"
One of them, Elder Kareth, stepped closer, his voice trembling.
"It speaks the language of the Ancients—one we had lost to time."
The symbols on the wall shimmered again, transforming into new words:
"Θи ŵιиđş σƒ τгąηş¢ėиďęή¢ȅ, Ƚέġěиďş ţøљď šħąłł ωąķě. ŧħɇ øήė ḿųṥţ čяąϯєя τħĕ ҉řίṼęя ōƒ Ŀũŋę. Fąĭļůѓě... şiĝήáĺş τħε ßɾɛąĶïиġ σƒ αĺĽ 3Dѓĕαμš!"
The glow intensified, casting shadows of creatures unseen across the walls. The carvings extended further, more cryptic phrases forming with each stroke of the invisible hand:
"Щɧęй τħɇ føųяţħ ǹøςťűяňăļ įş ĉąśτ, tħě 2fяøŋτŝ ďїvïďë. Ćɏçĭεš şɧāłļ ҉вū҉яи, áиđ τħɇяȅ τħɇ łăśţ cħąяάďẽ šhαll šтąйď!"
The symbols rippled as if alive, creating a hypnotic rhythm of light and shadow. Another priest stepped forward, trying to decipher the meaning, his voice shaking as he read the next lines:
"Gâŕȿħάļ σƒ ȑóβěś, 6łųмιńąяίѕ! Dэʇђ ŧø яěđęěm şħąłĺ вєţřáƴ. Ťɧě cĥąρτεřş øƒ ţħě šŧąяş άѓȇ пøŧ ţɧę ɛńđ, вųţ τħȅ βèğìήńїñģ øƒ śėąȺ!"
The air grew heavy, vibrating with unseen power, as the prophecy's final lines etched themselves deeper into the stone, blood-red light spilling from the words:
"Ŵŏє ţø τħē ōήę ŵħø ļέăďś τħě 7†ħ ƈĥãℓïšє. Ψşϊδяέş şɧåłł βяįпĝ đąѓκ, вυτ ρяøмϊşȅ τħɇ яє†ųѓń øƒ ßłįśś. Wąяи ŧħěṃ άľļ: Ïή τħē вяĕåķïñĝ øƒ τħè čöđε... šăφŧ¥ șнåļł ňęvεя ве ҉řěšţøяèď."
A gust of wind howled through the temple, extinguishing every torch and leaving the room bathed in the glow of the runes.
"What does it mean?" whispered another priest, clutching his staff tightly.
Kareth's eyes widened as a chilling realization dawned on him. "It's not just a warning—it's instructions. But the meaning... It's buried beneath riddles."
"Get the High Priest!!" Elder Kareth commanded, but before they could move an inch, the High Priest appeared in the room and stared at the runes on the wall. Then he closed his eyes, the moment he opened them, bright light filled the room as he started chanting in strange tongues. The once cryptic message started becoming clear as words flooded into his mind.
A few minutes later, the light was gone from his eyes, replaced with weakness as he held onto his staff for support.
He cleared his throat as he started speaking, his voice trembling with fear. "The prophecy states:
'On the coldness of nights, when the frost bites deepest and the winds wail with fury, a storm shall rage across the lands. The tempest will be unlike any seen before, and amidst its wrath, under the veil of a moonless sky, a child shall be born to the royal family.
This child shall bear the sacred seal and mark of the Creator upon his neck—a symbol of divine connection and unparalleled destiny. Through him, the people shall be united with the Creator, and the presence of this child shall bring forth the dawn of a new era. An era of peace, prosperity, and enlightenment.
But beware, for the blessings he carries are fragile, and the light within him is not immune. The child must not be exposed to the evils of the world and the corruption of mankind. If the taint of darkness touches his soul, it will grow within him, feeding on his purity.
Should he succumb to this darkness, the Creator's seal will shatter, and the balance of all realms will crumble. Chaos shall consume the lands, and the whole world shall perish, reduced to ruins and ash.
Guard him well, for the fate of existence itself lies in his hands.' "