Upon the day prey kills predator, two sisters shall bring forth the dawn of evil and the rise of a new god.

Upon the day the brother becomes the father, a duel shall bring forth a new kingdom.

Upon the day siblings rival, a suspicious accident shall bring forth an age of inhumanity and justice.

Upon the day the world turns to winter, a forced marriage shall mark a cursed age and the return of monsters.

Upon the day that the sister becomes the mother, the dark one shall cause the downfall of two kingdoms.

Upon the day that fire comes to the sea of ice, a woman with golden hair shall bring about the death of a god.

All across the continent of Orane, from the Sea of Swords in the west to the Sun’s Blessing in the east, from the Baduran Desert in the south to the Endless Glacier in the north, those words of prophecy were heard. The stanzas were not always in the same order, and some heard some parts of the prophecy more clearly than others, but they were always the same. Every being that channeled the power of the gods heard it in their minds as they prayed, no matter their religion, or how true their belief. Everyone, everywhere in Orane knew about the prophecy.

The last time such a thing had happened, it was the herald of the Great Troubles, when the gods had been cast down into the mortal planes, and chaos the likes of which the world had not known in years ensued. Except, that time, the prophecy had been far more… explicit. That time, it had been a warning from the overgod to the mortals about what would happen, and so He wanted people to decipher the meaning.

This time, however, there was much debate over what the prophecy could mean, and who it might refer to. The common thinking was that there was no way that all six pieces of the prophecy could speak to the same people, or the same event. No, it was much more likely that they would tie to seemingly unrelated events, and their aftereffects would influence the other pieces of the prophecy.

Of course, most people decided that the first and last stanzas were the most important ones. After all, a god dying, and a new god rising in their place? That was something that hadn’t happened since, well, the Great Troubles.

But the other four pieces weren’t exactly ignored, either. The rise and fall of kingdoms, monsters and other nastiness being unleashed upon the land? No, those were all of much more immediate concern to the rich and the powerful than the possibility of a change in the pantheons.

Stolen novel; please report.

Throughout the halls of power, rulers closeted themselves with their advisors and spymasters. Sages and loremasters were sought out, to try and find out anything that could be gleaned from the prophetic words. And plans that had been in motion were rethought, especially when they would pit sibling against sibling. Because no one wanted to be the center of the coming storm.

The conversations never went anywhere, for the most part. After all, there were too many possibilities. So, the powers that be, be they great or small, were left with no choice but to prepare for something that no one could possibly prepare for. The powerful did not like being the helpless ones for a change, much to the secret (or not so secret) delight of those they reigned over.

But in the city-state of Trenia, the whispers took on a more pointed tone. There, on the steppes below the Endless Glacier itself, the winds howled across the tundra, and they carried with them grim tidings. The creatures who lived upon the glacier were gathering in great numbers. Orcs and snow goblins made up the majority, but there were reports of frost folk, nomadic wanderers rarely seen alone, but several had apparently gathered, along with the orcs and goblins.

This would have been cause for concern, even under normal circumstances. Trenia may have its walls, but the city guard numbered only thirty souls, and the militia was ill-practiced. The city only had three thousand people on its rolls, after all, and they often relied on passing adventurers to take care of the odd trouble with monsters. They were not prepared for what was sounding to be an army in the making.

And if Trenia was not prepared, then the surrounding towns and villages were even worse off! The few that had walls at all had maybe a handful of militia protecting them, if that. Most could be taken out with a dozen bandits on horsemen. Their main protection was that the open tundra made it so you could see enemies coming from far away, and the hope that some of their neighbors would be too slow, and occupy the bandits long enough for some of the population to escape.

But that was no defense against an army that was said to number in the hundreds already. An army could sweep across a village, and still spare riders to chase down those who tried to flee, while burning and pillaging to their hearts’ content. That was the truth of armies, after all. Many hands made light work.

And yet, that was not what truly had the Lord Mayor of Trenia on edge. His spymaster had confirmed that the monsters were gathering, yes, but no one knew what their final goal was. The monsters had not, so far, made any move towards the steppes. It could be that there was some trouble on the Glacier itself, after all.

That thought was the most troubling one. For, what was a glacier if not a ‘sea of ice’? And the Endless Glacier was larger than any of its kind in all of Orane. If there was some trouble there, then that trouble could be taken to represent a fire.

The Endless Glacier was two tenday’s ride along the Old North Road, though half that time as the raven flew, but travel was scarce, further north than the village of Norreholt. The only ones who went past that point were the few merchants who were allowed to trade with the Frost Giants, in their icy city of Coldkeep Hold, or the hot spring oasis of Icemelt. Both groups accepted little in the way of trade, for their settlements were largely self-sufficient, and the monsters of the tundra were more of a concern for them than anything happening outside their lands.

But what news had come from those traders made the Lord Mayor’s blood run cold whenever he thought of it, and the prophecy. For the merchants had spoken of seeing a newcomer in town, the last time they were there, in the company of two frost folk. It was a woman with golden hair.

For all his years, the Endless Glacier had always seemed so very far away, but now the Lord Mayor was wishing with all his soul that it was much further still!