The Prophecy
In a town within Thallerion, the sun's rays spread, slowly conquering the buildings with light. In the distance, a heavy bell tolled—a signal for the movement of people, each driven by their own purposes and beliefs on how to survive. There were those who clung to iron, believing that change could only be birthed through war. Yet, there were others whose faith prevailed, clinging instead to the promises of their god.
Where the concept of slavery began, there also stood the arrogance of those upon thrones, mirroring how their god treated the world. To them, human life was the lowest tier, controlled by a divinity—a destiny that no one could buy, even if a king claimed all the riches of the earth.
Inside a cathedral in Thallerion, a massive black cross was mounted high upon the wall. Beneath it, the whispers of a kneeling young woman could be heard in prayer. The fragrance of incense smoke drifted through the air around her, and candles stood as silent witnesses to her solemn endurance.
Her mind pleaded whenever she heard the moans of wounded soldiers—crying out, screaming for help before drawing their final breath. With every drop of memory, her knees trembled as she recalled the nightmares of yesterday.
"O, merciful Lord, help us and grant us peace," she whispered. The girl prayed without ceasing, believing that the Great Guardian of Thallerion would hear her plea. Her soft sobs echoed against the walls, thick with a palpable mix of terror and hope.
As she prayed intently, the candle flames suddenly bowed, and the incense smoke swirled violently in the air. In an instant, a sphere of light manifested. Feeling its gentle, sacred warmth, she opened her eyes to a blinding radiance that shone like a fallen star. With a flash, it landed before her as a shadow of light began to grow.
"Who are you?" she asked. Her voice shook, and the noise from the outside world ceased as if time itself had stopped.
Fear gripped the woman's angelic face as a man stepped forth from the light. He stood with the bearing of a king. With every step he took, the presence of the room seemed to shrink. Five glowing crystal orbs hovered behind him before bowing and settling into a sash around his waist. He was shrouded in power that hummed like breathing electricity.
Xurien's eyes traced his powerful frame; he wore silk that looked woven from the cosmos itself, adorned with glowing armor of gold and silver. Like a god of war, he was flanked by floating daggers of varying shapes. A diadem sparkled upon his brow like a newborn sun. She had but one instinct: this was a Constellar–King.
She saw eyes that glittered with the depth of the universe, but she quickly bowed her head in fear, her humility a bitter plea before him.
"I am Marthew Cereun, the Great Orion," he spoke. His voice thundered like lightning yet held the melodic softness of music. "You are blessed among all, Xurien Wrez. For from your womb shall come peace."
"The Great Orion?" Xurien's voice nearly failed her. Xurien Wrez was one of the women who tended to wounded soldiers during the heights of war.
Her eyes widened in shock at the sound of his living voice, and her forehead slowly touched the polished floor of the altar. "Are you truly the great warrior of Thallerion? The Great Savior?"
"Yes. I am Orion," the man replied, though a certain weight remained in his tone. "Rise." He offered his hand, but when Xurien reached for it, he vanished like mist, reappearing behind her.
"What does this mean?" Xurien asked, confused by his intent as she remained seated on the floor. Orion offered only an elusive gaze. "Answer me."
"Because I am here to tell you the prophecy," he said, and Xurien froze like a statue. "Your child shall pave the way for heaven and earth to become one. His hand shall bridge the stars in the heavens like a constellation."
"But..." Xurien hesitated, bewildered. "I have no plans to marry. Thallerion is the only family I claim."
"Listen, Xurien—the destiny of a mortal in the eyes of a god is a story already written." Fear took hold of her—a fear her mind could hardly map.
"Why must this responsibility be thrust upon the shoulders of a mortal? Is it not the Protector who faces the lion's fangs, who severs the tentacles of the monstrous Cetus, and makes the seven-headed Hydra dance? What can a mortal do against such fierce monsters? Even heaven and earth fear them!"
Orion bowed his head, followed by a heavy silence.
"You know our suffering, you hear our prayers, but how much longer must we wait?" Xurien's tears fell like rain collected over a long drought. "I beg of you... do not ignore the fear drowning Thallerion. Help us... bless our spirits with your greatness."
Orion looked away, a sigh of regret escaping his chest. "I regret to tell you..." His voice was heavy, like the earth soaking up morning dew. "Even the greatest guardian of this world faces a grueling trial. My weapon is free, waiting for one who is worthy. But the essence of my soul remains imprisoned between two worlds."
The young woman felt hope slipping away as the truth was revealed by the entity. "What you see now... is merely a message from my mind," Orion said sadly.
"How can we triumph in this dark age if the star we rely on in the night is covered by clouds?" Xurien's voice broke; her hope was a compass without a needle. "How can my child bring peace to Thallerion without your full presence?"
"Do not worry... my promise to Thallerion shall never fail. When the first part of the prophecy comes to pass, I, Orion, shall send a signal to the stars—sigh... there is no more time."
In a flash, Orion vanished, turning into golden dust swept away by the wind through the crevices of the shrine.
"I will hold you to your word," Xurien whispered to the air. That moment became a seed planted in the very core of her being.
Years passed, and the great cross watched over her as she dedicated herself to the church of Thallerion. There, she found true joy—a joy stemming from her heart as she worked alongside other women to pray for and heal the wounded soldiers.
"I am glad of your fortitude, Xurien. I used to see you mourning in a corner of the shrine; your endurance tells the story of the heroes who gave their lives for peace," said Father Gomenzer. "But look at you now—you have become their pillar of strength."
"For the sake of Thallerion..." Xurien replied softly. "I will help bless the soldiers before they head to war. I will heal their wounds for the peace of our nation."
The priest smiled. "Perfect timing, then. The Prince is arriving today." The announcement immediately caught the attention of the other women.
"The Prince?" the women whispered, popping up like mushrooms behind Xurien, giddy with excitement.
"Yes, he comes to seek a blessing from our church," the priest said, his voice booming with a wide grin. "This is the first time the Prince has come here for a blessing—not to notice your beauty," he joked. He glanced at the women behind him, who were in a frenzy of excitement, fixing their hair—a far cry from the stillness Xurien maintained.
"Isn't this an exciting day, Xurien?" The priest's gaze settled on her. She forced a simple smile, though deep down, her anxiety remained visible.
The Arrival of the Prince
At high noon, the silence was shattered by the thunderous arrival of horses and the clanking of steel shimmering in the sun outside the cathedral. The women waited in the shade of the church corridor, holding smoking incense. Xurien stood there, clutching the black cross to her chest. Her blouse was long, reaching her feet, and her pearl-like hair hung like vines down her back. Her cheeks flushed and her fingers trembled as the hoofbeats drew closer.
She could hear the frantic whispers of her companions, speaking of nothing but the Prince's heroic deeds. Their excitement only stilled when the group of formidable soldiers appeared. Leading the host was the Prince—tall and clad in magnificent armor. His voice was a deep baritone, commanding the absolute respect of his men and the church guards alike.
"Prince Cerceux, please enter. The priest awaits for the sacred blessing," the guard announced, gesturing with his sword—the symbol of Thallerion bravery.
"Then let us proceed, men," the Prince ordered, before pausing. "Respect the women here. I can feel the sanctity of this place."
The soldiers chuckled as if a king had just laid down a new law. They looked toward the women standing before the convent. There, the fragrance of incense met the steam of sweating horses.