As Shawn recovered from the sunara attack and prepared for the Trials still three days hence, another young Ironstorm prince paced his office high in the Dolman's Tower, wearing a frown as he carefully worked through a myriad of thoughts in his mind. Those thoughts were made somewhat more complicated by the spark of light that lazily flew around him, pausing every once in a while to hover over his shoulder as if it too contemplated something.
Lawrence glanced at the fairy as she resumed her slow circling, his frown growing more thoughtful. Thankfully she had indeed tempered the darkness haunting his dreams, lessening the fey vision each night until the night previous to last he slept without it. Unfortunately his new reality was also without thoughts of romance, assuming the throne and growing up a King of Talemon. Now they were only filled with thoughts of the Return, the Norak Utterance and Weapons of Power. 'Thank you, Ambassador Juraan,' he silently mused, returning his gaze to a vague point somewhere in front of him, his feet moving once again on the methodical path he put them in around his massive desk, to consider his thoughts.
Ah yes, Juraan; the elf's appearance on that fateful day had certainly been the crown in the strange events building in the last few moons leading up to his meeting with the enigmatic stranger in the Thieves' Quarter and the revelation about the Utterance and its power. He wasn't sure what was more disturbing: the Utterance and his promised fate, which made his nightmare all the more real. Or the fact that none of it disturbed him at all.
Will and Shiana, however, were quite troubled by the visit and unfolding events, so much so they had avoided him since. Lawrence pursed his lips thoughtfully at that consideration. He could only hope the rest of Humanity wouldn't be so disturbed when the truth reached them after his Ascension to the throne of Talemon. Not that they needed more chaos after the tumult of the Diaspora. Unfortunately his reign promised nothing in terms of stability, only the fires of war with a demonic horde that, if they weren't stopped, could and would destroy all of Creation. The prophecy was quite clear on that particular detail.
Lawrence's introspection paused a moment as the fairy abruptly halted once again, calling his attention to her. And, in doing so, it brought him back to the very reason he had awoke this morning thoughtful and introspective to begin with.
While the fairy had been, indeed, instrumental in holding back the nightmares, she didn't stop the young prince from dreaming all together. In fact, she had helped stimulate some very intriguing nocturnal visions that went a long way to explaining some of the things he learned about the Utterance from the scroll the stranger in the Thieves' Quarter gifted him. The dream he had last night certainly ranked up with the best in terms of intrigue and thought-provoking imagery, triggering a contemplation that lasted into this morning, thanks in part to words Larengor had said as he and his companions were leaving.
The dream itself had begun innocently enough: a gentle ride across the Teke Awade on the back of his favorite horse, a big chestnut stallion named Bradus, a present from Bek and the Sandlords. They were galloping across a series of low, rolling hills when, without warning, Bradus took his own head and turned abruptly to the left. In doing so, the big stallion brought his master directly in front of a great rent in the earth, formed by some great sword from heaven falling to pierce Ramnor's living flesh with its blade.
Still astonished by Bradus' first abrupt turn, the young prince could only stare in amazement as the big chestnut then galloped full tilt into the rent and in the next heartbeat, Lawrence found himself standing in some sort of great chamber, dominated by a vast pool of liquid magma in the center. Looking about him, he saw that Bradus was now nowhere to be found. He did see, however, that the chamber was lit a dull red by the red-hot glow of the pool. And, in the distance, through the smoke and steam, he could see a group of dark figures working over a strange, massive forge, perched on a stony shelf overlooking the bubbling pool of molten rock.
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Sons of Ironstorm - Book 2: Griffon's CallFantasy
Eleven years after the events in Elvenfast and Tal Morun, the world of Ramnor is caught in the grip of the Diaspora: a season of turmoil and chaos marking the beginning of the Ascendance, the last stage of the Norak Utterance, a prophecy detailing t...