The flickering candle cast a dim glow, creating a distorted shadow that danced across the whitewashed wall. This was a cramped study in the academic tower of the Eshadian Empire's capital. An elderly man, his beard and hair as white as the snow, was hunched over a chaotic array of books and scrolls, poring over each page with meticulous care, as if he were on the cusp of uncovering some vital truth. The distant chime of the clock tower rang out, its simple, melodic tones echoing through the stillness of the city, signaling the arrival of midnight. Yet, the old man remained engrossed in his reading, oblivious to the passage of time.
The door creaked open, and a young man stepped inside, a candlestick balanced in his hand. He approached softly, concern etched across his face. "Teacher, it's already midnight. You should really think about resting."
The old man looked up, momentarily startled. "What? Is it already that late?"
With a heavy sigh, he closed the tome he had been reading, pulled out a handkerchief, and rubbed his weary eyes. "It seems my body is betraying me more each day. Help me up, will you?"
The young man set down the candlestick and moved to assist the old man, supporting his frail frame as he stood.
"At today's imperial meeting, everyone was eager to know what you've been working on. Even His Majesty inquired about it privately," Mond said, trying to speak in a lighthearted tone.
The old man chuckled softly. "I can only imagine your struggle to concoct a suitable excuse on the spot."
"Uh…" Mond hesitated, a flush creeping to his cheeks. "Was that shooting star from a few nights ago really worth all this fuss?"
The moment the question left his lips, the old man's jovial expression faltered. A shadow fell over his face, and he frowned deeply, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily upon him.
"Forgive my doubt," Mond said, shame washing over him as he noticed the change in his mentor's demeanor.
"Ah, Mond, I'm not chastising you. It's healthy to question," the old man reassured him quickly. "But yes, that meteor has been a source of great concern for me. I can only hope my fears are unfounded. If it truly heralds disaster, as the ancient scrolls suggest, then we are facing a threat beyond our comprehension. Let me recount the previous occurrences."
He unfurled a roll of aged parchment, his voice steadying as he began to narrate the findings of his recent research…
---
In a shadowy alley beside the Great Bell Tower, a cloaked figure moved silently, the sound of the bell still echoing in the night air. He walked slowly, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his back, obscuring his features beneath the hood.
He paused at a corner, glancing around cautiously.
"Why are you here so late today?" a gruff voice emerged from the darkness. Another cloaked figure awaited him, his face hidden, save for a thick beard that jutted out from beneath his hood.
"It's going to get windy. We need to prepare," the first figure replied, his voice low and urgent.
"What preparations have you made?" the bearded man asked, tilting his head slightly.
"Rope, canvas, and harpoons," came the reply.
The bearded man nodded. "With those, you can venture out to sea without fear. We will pray for your safety at the church by the port."
With that, he slipped back into the shadows, leaving the first figure to continue on his path, ensuring he was alone before moving further into the night.
---
Meanwhile, back in the tower, the old man's story had come to a close, but a cold sweat was beginning to bead on Mond's forehead.
After a long silence, he finally found his voice. "If what you've said is true, shouldn't we alert His Majesty and warn the populace?"
"No," the old man replied, his tone grave. "We lack concrete evidence of the disaster. We don't know its form or when it will strike. Prematurely disclosing this information could incite widespread panic and grant those with ill intentions an opportunity to exploit the chaos."
"You're right," Mond admitted, feeling a twinge of guilt for his earlier impulsiveness.
The old man opened the window, allowing a gust of fresh air to sweep into the room. He gazed out into the darkened night, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders.
"It's going to be windy…" he murmured, foreboding lingering in his voice.