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"Your sanctity!" Shouted a Legate in white robbes. He ran through the burg embracing the Heaven's Shrine with a torch in hands. He rose his sights to contemplate the colossal tower that advanced higher than any human was capable of seeing: the sealed home of the Grey Guardian. "Your sanctity must be warned," he told himself as he banged on a door. "Your sanctity?"
"Friar Gustav, where is your decorum?" Asked the Grand-Priest's chaplain. "Interrupting your Sanctity at this time in the morning?"
"The candles of the ancestors have gone off. They've been called, sir," the young legate's eyes shined with hope as he spoke. "The Avatar is alive. Somewhere in the Wild Lands. The Grand-Priest must call upon an edict for us to find him or her. The prophecy has come true."
"Are you certain, friar?" Inquired the Chaplain.
"Absolutely, sir," tears rolled down his cheek. "It's a miracle. Hear the Song of the Wind! The Avatar's call has echoed across all of the Wild Lands. The prophecy has come true, sir: the Avatar is among us."
"Unbelievable." The Chaplain looked away and faced the horizon from the balcony of the fortress surrounding Heaven's Shrine. "Let's hope it is not too late."
The Chaplain stared into a vast prairie.
Scouts from the Caliphate of Camarilla observed the temple through their lenses.
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This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Far away, in Helika, the city that bridges the east and west, a vizir runs through an endless hallway.
"Your majesty," the Vizir bowed, "Sultan of Helika, son of the Caliph; heir to both world - ours and of the Jinn (how the Spirits are referred to in the Cult of Camarilla) -; conqueror of Helika and divine chosen of the Camarilla;" the Vizir began. "The winds have set off all the incense in the Caliphate. A powerful cry roams the heaven and the Earth."
"A new Emperor of the Holy Flame marches against my lands?"
"No, your majesty, worse..." Faltered the Vizir without ever looking his master in the eyes. "The prophecy from 18 years ago has come true. Our astrologists have been warning us but we've chosen to ignore. Yet there is no doubt now: the Masih al Dajjal, whom the Penitents call the Avatar, has been born and his powers grow. He somehow escaped from us and is somewhere in the Wild Lands."
"This is a catastrophe."
"Mustn't you alarm the Caliph, sir?"
"My father knows of all and everything," the Sultan stood. "I shall visit him, but only with the head of the Masih al Dajjal in my possession. You have permission to send every ship of our fleet to pursue him. Knowing my brothers, they lust for my position of heir. The first one to capture the Avatar will likely inherit the Caliphate."
"Yes, sir." Replied the Vizir. "Anything else, your majesty?"
"Bring the Massih al Dajjal alive. I am busy with the rally the greatest army ever assembled on this world," he laid his eyes opon Heaven's Shrine in a map. "If the Grey Guardian falls, no Avatar will ever stand in the path of the Holy Caliphate. If my father is right, the Massih al Dajjal should try mastering the four elements to climb Heaven's Shrine and meet the Grey Guardian. It'll be futile if we destroy the Shrine first."
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In the land of the Sforza, weeks after, Marzia lied with Verano's letters as a bed. The doors to her bedroom opened. She saw Duchess Livia with curtains of tears beneath the eyes.
"Mama?" Faltered Marzia. "What is wrong?"
Duchess Livia embraced her daughter.
"They are dead, Marzia," she sobbed. "They are all gone," she held her daughter tighter. "My babies: Arnaud and Verano."