Black Heart

Chapter One: The Prophet Entails

Seizing the opportunity to inject a dash of humour into the moment, Mavis beckoned Ludachel over with a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Ah, Ludachel, what have you been up to now? Come, my dear, let's have a little chat."

Caught off guard and trying to maintain his facade of innocence, Ludachel stumbled over his own feet in his rush to comply with his mother's summons, a look of feigned innocence plastered on his face. As he made his way towards her when a wayward butterfly fluttered past his nose, causing him to sneeze loudly and sending his carefully arranged papers flying into the air in a chaotic whirlwind.

Mavis couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter at the sight of her son's amusing predicament, the tension of the moment dissolving into a lighthearted exchange between a mischievous mother and her clever son.

His cheeks were aflame with effort and embarrassment alike as he picked up his belongings. Upon reaching her, his words bristle with mock indignation, "Escaped your duties again for flower sniffing, Mother, or just to pester me?"

Ignoring his tone, she stands, affectionately berating him with a flick to his forehead. "Impudent child, even in the presence of a deity, and I'm not the one that claims to hear the whispers that hollows speak when he should be engrossed in his studies." she teases, her grin betraying no hint of offence.

Ludachel's retort is cut short by
Admeris as he materialised amidst the tranquil meadow, his entrance disrupted the serenity like a thunderclap in a clear sky. The vibrant colours of the flowers seemed to dim in deference to his arrival, the very air vibrating with an unspoken command. His golden eyes, alight with the essence of creation, cast a radiant glow that danced with the shadows cast by the ancient oak trees.
There was a playful gleam in his gaze, a reminder of his eternal youth and mischievous spirit, yet the weight of his presence bore the gravity of his divine lineage. Every movement he made carried the weight of worlds being born and stars being extinguished, a reminder of the delicate balance between chaos and order in the tapestry of existence.

As he approached Mavis and Ludachel, the boundary between mortal and immortal blurred, their familial ties intertwining with the cosmic responsibility that rested on his broad shoulders. The air crackled with latent power, the very essence of creation pulsating in harmony with his every step. At that moment, the meadow was not just a place of beauty and peace but a stage for the dance of gods and mortals, where destinies shifted with the whisper of a word and the touch of his palm on Ludachel's shoulder.

"Respect, little brother," he chides, a playful glint in his gaze, though a simmering tension underscores his words.

Mavis's laughter is short-lived as Admeris's concern pulls her thoughts to weightier matters. The divine trio navigates a dance of wit and wisdom, their exchange a blend of familial ribbing and cosmic duty.

Ushering his mother toward the gates, Admeris insists on a retreat to the capital, his touch on her shoulder a mix of reverence and urgency. Mavis, ever defiant, pushes back, her every breath a testament to her dominion over life, her bond with her sons both her grounding and her greatest challenge.

The concern in Admeris's eyes prompts a softer inquiry from Mavis, her intuition piercing through his guarded exterior. "What turmoil beckons, my son?" The air between them thickens with unspoken fears as they stand on the cusp of revelation, the sacred and the familial intertwining in their shared gaze.
Noting his little brother's curiosity and concern because of Admeris's presence which holds a dual purpose, he subtly conveys to Mavis the urgency of Theron the god of prophecy summoning without alarming Ludachel. His words and demeanour carefully mask the gravity of the situation from the young boy, shielding him from the weight of divine revelations.