Wooden Swords

You must find the prophet. That's the last thing she'd said to me before I lost her. We were in the woods - it was nighttime - and the woods were dark, and cold, and we were ensnared. We couldn't find a way out. Al Jeaire held his hand against his lips, informing us we should remain quiet; that if we did not, they'd hear us, and if they heard us they'd surely kill us. So we crept along, crouched in the darkness like tigers, our teeth cringing each time a twig snapped or the leaves crunched beneath our feet, hoping the sounds wouldn't alert our pursuers, intent on our capture.

Atop an old skeletal corpse I'd found a rusted sword and an old wooden shield studded with dull metals and rotted leather. Al Jeaire had forged a makeshift bow that was enchanted by the village sorceress, Aratha, whom we'd lost hours ago. We were nearing a lake then, and the red moon, hanging ominously overhead, had been reflected in the slow waters, waving on the glass surface like a flag. There'd been a bright light, and the sound of something moving through the air with lethal force, sparks and then the sudden emergence of flames. The warlock Venkgnath, and his minions, had found us, raining down flames and black magics upon us. Aratha had turned and conjured an aqueous djinn that wrapped itself around her to protect her from the blast. She summoned great deluges of water, sending them arcing at our adversaries in tumbling tsunamis that crashed into the dense wood, uprooting trees and earth.

In the commotion, scrambling to escape, we were separated. I was alone in a vast stone courtyard, surrounded on all sides by thick rock. Around me stood giant statues, stone golems and glaring gargoyles, all malevolent and mad. Out of the corner of my eyes I swear I could see them encroaching as I approached the obelisk in the center of the yard. This is where I was told I'd find the prophet. The obelisk was as tall as a house, elaborately covered in strange markings and symbols that began to glow as I neared.

I placed my hand on it and saw the stone guardians around me rouse, their eyes too beginning to glow. The structure before me began to recede into the quaking earth, producing a deafening crumbling sound. Once the earth had fully swallowed it, two stone wolves leapt from the crater and howled.

One looked at me and said:

It has been prophesied that you would come, and also, that you will not leave.