"Now!" The patriarch's deep baritone sundered through, ending the long, silent anticipation. The fated hour had finally arrived.

Gathered deep in a secluded forest, the remnants of the clan began a chant. Their words were heavy, laced with the essence of their lives, united in a single voice at the resounding command. A dweomer formed. The air gradually thickened as the chant progressed. The trees within its proximity reacted positively to the air saturated with life essence flowing through their leaves. Bark cracked as the trees expanded, years of growth happening in minutes. The trees overflowing with life energy shot skyward, and the overhead canopy filled with thick glistening leaves.

The only woman present knelt with her hands clasped together at the center of her clan as they continued their eerie chant. The dweomer grew thicker as the continuing ritual drew forth more life essence. Her face betrayed her inner thoughts and a range of emotions: a slight reluctance overshadowed by expectation, determination, and overpowering the rest, hope. She had a lot on her mind; this event would chart a new course for her race. The chanting ended, marking the first stage complete. Everyone present held their collective breath. 

She raised her arms skyward in a welcoming gesture, pushing her arms deep into the thick dweomer. The air resisted her; the dweomer thicker than water. She strained to force her arms through. The spell activated, creating a sudden burst of bright gray light that shot out, aimed at a precise point in the vast void. The flash briefly illuminated the sky for miles around. The final stage of the ritual reached far and deep into the recesses of space.

A second, more brilliant light originating in the blackness of the starry sky emerged in response. It descended into the forest, leaving the sky even darker than before it appeared. A celestial glow centered on the woman and enveloped her momentarily. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it pierced painlessly into her body and vanished without a trace. The excess energy remaining in the dweomer now lingered behind and would not fully dissipate for several days.

"Congratulations, my kin. The prophecy is one step closer to fruition,” the patriarch forced a smile, grave as the situation was. He turned to his granddaughter, continuing in labored breaths, “however, now your ordeal truly begins. I regret putting this responsibility on your shoulders, but the choice has long been out of my hands," 

She observed her clan; their faces had paled, and all of them had collapsed to their knees from the heavy toll the ritual demanded in compensation. All of them appeared to have aged several years.

She slowly nodded as she took a moment to rub her abdomen affectionately, her gaze filled with no small amount of wonder. A sense of comfort washed over her, coming from a dormant, alien but familiar power. Bolstered by this sudden strength, her determination solidified further. After taking a moment to compose herself, she hurriedly rose to her feet. The rest of her clan struggled when following her example. Exhaustion gripped them all like a wet blanket. While they wanted to bask in the joyous moment, the two sparks of light earlier brought danger.

The patriarch started chanting under his breath as he urgently ushered them all away. With a final glance at each other, brothers, fathers, sons, friends, rivals, everyone engaged in a silent farewell. With a single, unanimous glance towards her, respect, awe, hope, so many feelings conveyed in a single look, they all fled, clamoring in different directions to draw as much attention to themselves as possible, with only the woman following the patriarch silently to the south. They took up the role of decoys hoping to draw the lurking danger to them. 

"Grandfather," she spoke, her tender voice barely breaking the silence when she heard his chant. It’s just in case the worst should happen. She told herself, shaking her head to shatter the foreboding feeling crushing down on her.

He simply shook his head, a hint of sorrow lingering a moment too long. He continued to chant. His eyes turned somber as he envisioned his clan making their final sacrifice bravely. He continuously ushered her onward, forcing them both to keep running lest their efforts fail in vain.

Trees blurred by as they ran, the forest becoming denser as they approached the rendezvous. Shrieks of pain and grunts of death echoed through the air, breaking the quiet night’s peaceful facade. The sound of weapons clashing turned the potential danger surrounding them real, their pace quickening beyond their body’s limits as adrenaline took over.

"The prophecy demands a high price," she murmured as she ran, a ghastly sickness seared through her body. To make matters worse, she felt the stickiness of sweat from all her effort on her skin, only accumulating more as she pushed on, her pace never faltering. She glanced at her grandfather’s pale, gray face hardened with resolve, his eyes cold as steel. No one knew better than he that the final price would be steep. World-changing events always demanded more. The burden on his shoulders was much heavier than she could have imagined.

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"Everything will have been worth it,” she turned her gaze down to her belly for the briefest of moments, ”if I can bear this child of prophecy to term. Our sacrifices, suffering, and everything that happened today will have meaning when this child, our god, is born.”

The patriarch spared a prideful glance at his granddaughter. On her shoulders rested their people’s last hope for survival. Struggling to keep pace with her, desperation and sheer will forced his legs to keep moving. His breaths ragged from running, his chant nearly faltered with every step, and fatigue threatened to collapse his legs at any moment. The last of his gray complexion was gone, leaving his flesh white as bone.

Complete silence descended around them. The futile resistance was over.

"We won’t make it," she turned to her grandfather, grabbing his arm and halting mid-stride. He gestured onwards as the chant began gathering power; his spell was nearing completion. He couldn’t afford to dally here.

"I'm aware we're near our goal. Answer me this, grandfather: have you ever had a clear escape after large-scale rituals?"

His head tilted sideways for a moment as he strained his ears. Deep concern further withered his face. A nod in each direction conveyed his unspoken words.

"Yes, we're surrounded. The only clear path available is,” she released a heavy sigh. Slowly raising her head, she affirmed her resolve. “Towards our goal."

Instead of running, she started a leisurely jog to the south. There was no escape from this outcome. Fight fate, or die trying. Not a choice available for her, not for her people. They didn't have the strength to combat whoever waited for them. After all, their clan was wiped out by whoever was lying in wait. Moments later, the two entered the rendezvous hidden inside another copse within the forest.

The old man stumbled. The drain from the ritual, the strain from running, and his stubbornness in preparing one final spell all took their toll. She approached him and forced herself under his arm, providing whatever meager aid she could as she helped him back to his feet. They slowed to a walk as they passed through the inner ring of trees. 

"Bold of you to come here on your own," a gruff voice broke the silence, drawing their attention to a man wearing light armor. He shook his hand, and a staff elongated. He approached and continued with a predatory smile plastered onto his face, "Have you finally resigned yourselves to your inescapable fate, at last becoming the hare that willingly delivers itself to the den of wolves?"

"You talk like we had much choice," she retorted, arching a brow slightly and then shaking her head, “No, this was simply the option with the highest probability of escaping.”

"Escape? You have quite the imagination, don’t you? You came into our trap on your own. You are the last two surviving gray skins, and that won't be for much longer. You sure have made this hunt enjoyable, and for that, I have to thank you," the leader replied as he waved his hand. In less time than it took to blink, numerous men and women brandishing swords and spears surrounded them.

"Grandfather! It can't be true, right? Some of them had to get away!" she looked pleadingly at her grandfather. She sought any solace she could against the cold hard truth. She was aware. She knew. But to accept it? An expression of sorrow warped his features as he held his hand out to her; he had withheld the actual cost of this event from her. She desperately reached out and touched his palm just as he finished his chant.

"Kill them," the leader stated coldly. He leered raptly, anticipating their blood spilling.

She helplessly watched in horror as swords and spears pierced through her grandfather. As she came near to experiencing a similar fate, her body exploded in a gentle grey glow forming a spherical shield around her. Every weapon coming towards her impacted the light, ultimately stopping them from causing her harm. The patriarch forced his face into a gentle smile, his spell activating simultaneously. Her surroundings turned into a kaleidoscope of blurred color as the magic whisked her away.

"How troublesome," grunted the leader as he waved his hand, his people dispersed into the woods as though they had never been there. He plopped down heavily on a flat stone and considered his next course of action. This sudden complication, how much more difficult would it be to extinguish the flames of prophecy? And also the earful I am going to catch from the god. He released a sigh; his gaze swept the area and landed on the dying gray skin as he continued bleeding out. The gray skin was already lying in a pool of blood.

“Serves them right,” he spoke with disdain. The man was sulking and bitter for failing to complete his task. He spat towards the prone figure. His attention lingered on the crumpled form.

Thought to be dead, the patriarch looked triumphantly at where his granddaughter had been only moments ago. As his lifeblood pooled beneath him, he wished greatness upon the future of his clan. He laughed bitterly. 

The prophecy and ritual promised greatness. But the reality was that it brought the race ever nearer to extinction. The patriarch began choking on his blood and couldn’t fight the urge to cough it up. A brilliant grin slowly stretched across his face, worn proudly in his final moments; he succeeded in his role. His body grew weaker, the pain fading. He felt an intense gaze boring into him; he slowly turned to meet the hunter’s glare, seeing his dissatisfaction. In his last act of defiance, he struggled hard against his deadened senses and flipped his middle finger at the man. His eyes grew heavy and closed as he heard the weight of leather boots crunching against the ground toward where he lay.

“Vi-” he barely managed to spit out before a heavy blow silenced him forever.