The Guardians were foolish to threaten her family. Callida was no stranger to desperate one-against-many fights, and despite spending the better part of the last two years pregnant and therefore not training, her relentless mental exercises and form practice had kept her in acceptable fighting form. That, and the Guardians were not trained as fighters and kept arriving in broken waves of two to four people at a time. She, on the other hand, was a seasoned veteran, and she was angry.
Yes, mistakes had been made. Callida could see it in their eyes as she slashed, sliced, and stabbed her way back up the stairs, through the nonsensically twisting corridors and rooms, into the courtyard, and back through the hallways to the ceremonial chamber that was now lit by the moonlight filtering through the many windows and the handful of iron torches mounted on the walls. It was here that she was finally greeted by more than a random assortment of scattered Guardians trying to flush her out.
The Oracle watched her enter from behind the stone table, shielded by the rows of armed Guardians in front of them, and Callida recognized Vanha and Haluton amongst the enemy forces and took note of the two archers with arrows already nocked and trained on her position. “Surrender, General,” the Oracle ordered confidently. “You are outnumbered.”
“No, Oracle, you should surrender, for you are outmatched.”
“One against thirty? I don’t think so.”
“Your funeral,” Callida said with an unconcerned shrug that masked the tension in her stance and the intensity of her watchful gaze. Despite his taunting, the Oracle was not the one calling the plays of their haphazard attack. Callida saw the signal to shoot come from a large male guardian on the front row and sprung forward in a roll as the arrows passed over her and hit the back wall. She used her momentum and charged, knocking spears to the side and spinning into the middle of their formation.
They were not honestly prepared for her to arrive at their lines unscathed by the arrows. First rending the head from their leader’s shoulders, Callida smirked to watch the rest of the Guardians immediately fall into panic, many of them dropping their weapons in an attempt to flee. An arrow loosed by shaky fingers hit one of the Guardians to her right, and Callida pulled a knife from her belt to drop the archer before they could correct their aim.
She was ruthless. After killing those with the backbone to stand their ground, she fell upon the backs of their fleeing comrades, ignoring pleas for mercy or forgiveness, and hunting down the cowards who managed to escape, at least as many as she could find. It seemed unlikely that she managed to find them all.
Maintaining her high alert, Callida returned to the ceremonial chamber to assess her work and determine what needed to be done next. It was hauntingly quiet. The blood had stained everything in the room with inky splatters and was running in sticky streams along the depressed grout joining the polished tiles of the floor.
“General?” The call was timid, but Callida responded to it violently, her sword raising to the woman’s chest before Callida recognized her as the Guardian that had helped Rogue and her sons escape through the back door. She’d forgotten about her amidst the slaughter but quickly dropped her sword.
“I owe you my gratitude,” she said and offered the Guardian a deep bow. “What’s your name?”
“I am Guardian Sotera of the Eternal Sun Order, the original order of the North Temple to the Lion Primordial,” the Guardian said and returned Callida’s bow nervously… which was fair given that the Guardian was completely surrounded by blood and the corpses of her colleagues. Callida could only guess how much blood she herself was wearing.
“What do you mean by ‘the original order’?”
“This temple was built nearly six hundred years ago in honor of the Lion Primordial, a being who derived his power from the sun. The Eternal Sun Order of Guardians was established to protect this temple and preserve the legacy of the Lion Primordial. The order has always been small, limited by tradition to five living members at a time, one to represent each of the five Primordials. However, the temple has expanded over the centuries. A task force of five would be overwhelmed in such a place as this, and it was always the intention to welcome other orders to the North Temple. At one point, the Guardianship of the temple was shared by ten separate orders. Now, there are only two: The Eternal Sun Order and the Order of the Rose and Dagger. The Rose and Dagger first came to this temple two generations ago and aggressively converted members of other orders to their ideology or pushed them out.”
“Are there other members of the Eternal Sun Order besides yourself?”
She hesitated, her eyes darting to the blood stains on Callida’s clothes. “Yes, but I sent them to their rooms when you arrived because….”
“That was wise,” Callida acknowledged. “Then, are there five of you?”
“Only three. The Order of the Rose and Dagger has made it increasingly difficult to replenish our numbers.”
“I see.” Callida spent a moment struggling to process the information dump meaningfully. The Rose and Dagger sounded like an invasive weed, methodically choking out all other orders. But for what purpose? “What can you tell me about the Order of the Rose and Dagger?”
“Hm.” Guardian Sotera lifted a curled hand to her bottom lip as she thought and began a mindless stroll about the less gory third of the ceremonial chamber. “They are strange to me. Primordialism is an ancient religion that predates the Last Primordials by millenia. The religion celebrates the Primordials, honors them as the protectors of humanity from the great evils of the primitive world. When the Generational One declared a final prophecy, practitioners of the religion everywhere celebrated, eagerly anticipating the return of the ancient Dragon King whom the Primordials served. But not the Order of the Rose and Dagger. Their philosophies are foreign to me and seem almost… sacrilegious. That is, what I know of their philosophies. They are secretive. Primordialism is a religion for the people. It gives them hope and a connection to their history. It should not be hidden from them. The Eternal Sun Order believes in being a beacon pointing people to a sure source of enlightenment and peace. The Order of the Rose and Dagger hides their knowledge, hoarding it for purposes I am not privy to. But they seem to regard the final prophecy with….”
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“Yes?”
“Forgive me, but I do not believe that they look upon the prophecy favorably. I do not understand how that can be. My position in the Eternal Sun Order is to represent the Silver Wolf. I have come to know her as I have studied her. She was a great protector, regularly sacrificing everything for the benefit of others. How anyone can view the return of the king who gave her the power to protect as a bad thing, I can not comprehend.”
“What does that mean in practical terms?”
“General, I do not wish to misrepresent the dead. I do not understand their beliefs, but I learned not to mention the prophecy in their presence because the conversations that followed were always unpleasant.”
“Unpleasant in what way?”
“They wanted to argue instead of seeking understanding or enlightenment.”
Callida inhaled deeply of the rusty air, releasing it again in a sharp exhale. “Tell me about the prophecy.”
“Certainly you know of the prophecy yourself,” Sotera said with a laugh that quickly faltered in the face of Callida’s stern gaze. She cleared her throat. “The final prophecy, sometimes referred to as the Prophecy of the Dragon King or the Great Unifier Prophecy, speaks of one who will unify the world of man in preparation for the return of the Dragon King. It speaks of a restoration of the Lost Tribes destroyed by the Black Dragon in the Last Primordial war — a restoration that you, General, appear to be the mother of.”
“The Mother of Prophecy…” Callida gasped, her trauma from the Griffin Tribe temple surfacing in a dangerous whirlwind of confused and desperate thoughts.
“Indeed.”
“What does that mean?!”
Sotera stopped wandering to stand directly in front of Callida, a gentle smile forming as her hand lifted to delicately brush Callida’s blood-splattered cheek. “I am unsure.” Her hand dropped. Callida felt….
She swooned, one knee buckling, the other locking as she tipped, unbalanced, to one side. Her sword clattered to the floor, skittering across the smooth tile as she fell. A panic attack? Shock? Or had the Guardian done something to her? No…. No, that was paranoia speaking. Callida let her head rest a moment against the cold tile, forcing her vitals to stabilize until her head stopped spinning. The Guardian above her was already offering her a hand to her feet when she looked up again.
“Are you alright?”
“I feel strange,” Callida admitted, collecting her sword. “This prophecy… is it written anywhere?”
Guardian Sotera became suddenly sad. “The Eternal Sun Order has failed. Our records of the prophecy were stolen or destroyed.”
“Then how do you know what’s in the prophecy?” Callida demanded, skepticism quickly hardening her heart to the idea of it again.
Sotera sighed heavily. “There is still an oral tradition, but it is incomplete.”
“What can you tell me that you haven’t already said?”
“The prophecy promises that the Return of the Dragon King will bring peace to the world and justice to evil, but most of the prophecy describes the signs of the prophecy’s fulfillment. For example, the attributes of the Parents of Prophecy. They are said to be both the same and opposite of each other. They will be great leaders of men. They will combine the power of the Last Primordials through their bloodlines. And they will be the subject of great love and great hatred.” She paused, looking Callida over. Callida looked back. Sotera was very tall, taller than Callida’s five foot eleven; Callida was looking up to meet Sotera’s eyes. “I wonder… would you permit me to… see for myself?”
“See?” Callida frowned and then flinched when the Guardian slowly lifted her palm to the level of Callida’s chest.
“This would not be your first time,” she noted, but the observation did not curb the hunger in her eyes. “May I?”
“What do you think you’ll see?” Callida asked hoarsely.
“I am a brown lion. My gift is to see past feats, current power, and future potential. I am most curious to witness the power of the Mother of Prophecy for myself. You have already proven yourself formidable. I wish to understand how this came to be.” Callida didn’t remember moving, or the Guardian moving for that matter, but her back hit the shut door, and the expectant distance between herself and the Guardian had not changed. “I will not force you,” Sotera assured her, “but I do seek your permission. May I?”
She willed her panic to subside, hopeful that Sotera could provide answers if she could just stomach the connection in the first place. “Do as you wish,” she consented shakily.
Sotera smiled and nodded before closing the gap, secondarily trapping Callida within the frame of the door. “Do not be afraid. It will not hurt. It will feel like waking up from a dream you cannot remember.”
Callida was surprised when the Guardian first took her wrist, lifting it and peeling back the filthy sleeve to expose the tender underside of her forearm and bring it close to her face. Then, the Guardian’s right palm pressed gently against Callida’s chest, her other hand slowly coaxing Callida’s bare arm to her lips. The moment she surrendered to the connection, Callida’s eyes rolled into the back of her head.
And the next moment, she was groggily returning to her senses. She was sagging against the doorframe, a leaden arm barely retaining a grip on her sword. Her whole body felt completely relaxed as though buried under the weight of a warm, heavy blanket — drained, but not in an unpleasant way. Guardian Sotera was studying her face with awe when her eyes finally blinked open. “Did you find what you were looking for?”
Sotera broke into a warm, deeply affectionate smile and sank to her knees, bowing to the floor. “You are more than I could imagine. It would be my honor to serve you, the true Mother of Prophecy.”
That post traumatic response stabbed through her chest again. She couldn’t think of a response… or think at all. Her mind had shorted out. She fumbled for the handle of the door behind her, retreated into the hallway beyond, and sheathed her grimy sword. When nothing else made sense, it felt only natural to run.