The Waiting One Prophecy

This is the telling of a time when all may change, for in the window to the future of all races has been seen the coming of a Darkness that has been and will be again, and it will be embodied as a threesome, two indivisible and two indivisible, for a time. Two will inhabit the same skin and be sentient and two will be of identical genesis, and one will be common to each kind. Do not be fooled, all is not lost, for Darkness cannot exist without lamps to triumph over, and if all things are in place new hope will come in the form of the Catalyst, he who is host to another not of the genesis, and that hope will not only release the Darkness, but also the Waiting One.

Teighlar of Grinwallin


Destiny is a Bitch


Teighlar’s hand whipped out and grabbed her neck. He squeezed hard. “Lowen. The truth will kill her.”

“I promise to protect her from them. And I swear she is safe from me.” She did not move under the hurtful grip.

“Not good enough.” He increased the strength of his hold.

“It will have to be,” she gargled. “Let go now.”

He responded by placing his other hand around the back of her neck and applying greater pressure. His eyes challenged.

Into that cavern of magic great shadows unfurled. Mighty wings soared out and only when he had marked their presence did he release her. He smiled, a predator’s grimace.

“Nice to meet you, Lowen Dalrish.” Teighlar stood, stretched, and strode from the chamber.

She swore. The man was too clever by far. She stared at the exit opposite, without seeing it. Once, in the city of Menllik, now destroyed, she told Torrullin of the dark wings inside her. Today she wore them on the outside as well.

Destiny was a bitch.