"Oh, where are my manners?" the Oracle exclaimed with an apologetic look crossing his weathered face. "Please sit – both of you."
Tcenex and Adamma settled into the offered seats, exchanging a brief glance as they adjusted to the strange atmosphere of the ashram.
"I had to intervene earlier – and you understand precisely what I'm referring to – because your journey would have been futile otherwise," the Oracle continued, his voice melodic yet tinged with urgency. "By the time you arrived, I would have finished my divination sesdion for the day. Your situation, however, demanded special attention, compelling me to act as I did to ensure this meeting holds. My sincerest apologies for intruding into your privacy." His eyes locked with Tcenex's, conveying an aura of enigma. And a tincture of mischief.
Tcenex nodded slowly, his throat suddenly dry. The Oracle was unmistakably referencing the vision that had interrupted his near-kiss moment with Adamma – that opportune moment when the mystic had suddenly and literally appeared to him on their journey to the ashram.
Beside him, Adamma shot Tcenex a puzzled look, her brow furrowed with curiosity. She was completely unaware of what the Oracle was talking about, and the confusion in her dark eyes was evident. Tcenex maintained his silence, feeling a strange mixture of embarrassment and relief. Some things, he reasoned, were better left unexplained. Ignorance is bliss, he justified inwardly, avoiding her questioning gaze.
"Now, about your situation." The Oracle's demeanor shifted, his voice dropping to a contemplative hush as he carefully selected his words. "I won't burden either of us with lengthy explanations, despite the extensive nature of your story. Let me address the heart of the matter." He paused, inhaling deeply, his mysterious eyes seeming to peer through dimensions before he spoke again. "In the dim, misty dawn of time, of ancient days gone by, somewhere across the stars, the gods were at war..."
Here we go again, mused Tcenex, sure that the story was going to be boring, especially with the "g" word being mentioned.
"Don't interrupt me while I'm talking, young god!" snapped the Oracle as though reading Tcenex's mind – which was exactly what he was doing. "Just listen and you might as well learn something monumental in my story."
Adamma glanced to Tcenex quizzically. Then at the Oracle. She was sure that Tcenex did not say anything to interrupt the Oracle's story. But Tcenex smiled knowingly at her. "Dibias, Seers and Diviners. Remember?"
"Oh!" She now understood. The Oracle was reading Tcenex's mind.
"So, where was I? Aha! The gods were at war, and mortal men suffered the effects of their firepower that scorched the Earth and burnt the forest. The mountains were uprooted by the sheer forces of their brutally unleashed weaponry. And the seas rose to overflow their boundaries and drowned innocent people at homes when the devastating weapons of the gods, unleashed amongst themselves, hit the seas. Men, women and children that survived the firepowers ran into caves for dear lives and protection."
The Oracle paused, studying Tcenex's face for an hint of misgivings. Tcenex had decided to play along, and so didn't give off any aura of defiance.
"The Earth was unsafe for mankind," continued the Oracle after ensuring he had Tcenex's undivided attention, "for the gods were brutal amongst themselves in territorial warfare over the lands – brutal wars and bloodsheds that needed not concern mankind. And they treated mankind as if he was an insect to be squashed at a moment's notice. And man was helpless. The owner of his own land was helpless. For he was not strong enough to defend his life, let alone his family and territory. So, mankind cried to Mother Earth, Ani.
"But Ani the Mother Earth was equally helpless, for her land had been taken by force by the gods from the sky and stars. Her forest had been burnt by the fire from the Fire-Sticks of these vicious gods. Her mountains uprooted by the stampedes of some of the gods that walked the Earth, so colossal they towered more than the mountains themselves. And her children were violated by the unlawful servants of these vicious gods from the stars.
"And Ani the Mother Earth wept. And she cried upon the stars and said:
'Oh, Celestial Stars of heaven above,
I beseech thee! Send me a Champion
Whose heart is pure and filled with love,
To uphold Justice, Peace and Compassion;
Who will protect my children from harm
That comes from the Stars; and bring Balance
Between Heaven and Earth with his Long Arm
Of Law. Grant me this plea, I pray thee; perchance,
I will grant the Champion you send my energy
To fill up his strength in his just fight
Against the evil from the Sky and any other enemy
That comes against the Earth: with all his might!'
"So, Ani, the Goddess of Earth, made a pact with the Stars, asking for a Sky-God that will bring Balance between the Stars and the Earth, and be the Protector of the People as well. And the signs of such a Sky-God shall be written in the Cave of Prophesy for all to see."
At this point, suspicion crept into Tcenex's mind, though he wisely suppressed his thoughts, aware that the Oracle might somehow perceive them. He imagined laborers hastily painting fabricated "prophecies" on the cave walls at this very moment—artisans crafting illustrations that would conveniently align with the Oracle's narrative.
To shield these doubts from detection, Tcenex quickly shifted his strategy, volunteering to visit the cave himself. Such a move would surely deflate the Oracle's grandiose attempts to deify him.
"May I see the cave of prophecy, Oh Mighty Oracle?" he asked, his voice carrying an unintended awkwardness that betrayed his inner tension. His fingers fidgeted slightly at his sides as he realized he may have just overacted at that moment.
Noticing this, Adamma shot him a surprised glance, her brow furrowing with concern. Oh Mighty Oracle? The formality sounded strange coming from his lips. Was he mocking the revered figure, or offering genuine respect? Either way, his tone carried a hint of absurdity that made her stomach tighten with anxiety.
The Oracle, however, responded with a knowing smile that illuminated his weathered face—the kind of expression that silently communicated: "I recognize your attempt to divert your suspicious thoughts." His eyes, deep and penetrating, seemed to peer directly into Tcenex's soul.
Rather than voicing this understanding, he replied with calculated smoothness, "Fortunately for you, that happens to be precisely where I planned to journey before your arrival. So we might as well proceed together, young god." He emphasized the final words with subtle satisfaction, as if savoring Tcenex's discomfort.