PROLOGUE

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Have you ever found yourself

Lost on a path you did not mean to take?

Was there ever a day when you thought -

" This is not who I am meant to be? "

...Everything happens for a reason.



PROLOGUE

In the six millennia of recorded history of their world and that of the world of ordinary people around them, an enduring trickle of prophecies came foretelling the end of the world. Many of them spoke of a saviour, who would have the ability to prevent the foretold apocalypse – whatever it might be. The largest concentration occurred in the years from 1000 to 1264 of the current era, when there were no fewer than 396 prophecies concerning the topic. Significantly, nearly all related in some way, to two prominent Magical families: The Malfoys of Normandy (and later of England) and the Isholmborgs of Sweden. Then without warning or reason, the prophecies stopped. There were those who still believed and in time many more who did not, but they became known to all as: The Thousand Prophecies.

Then in 1954 after nearly seven hundred years of silence, in the heat of the summer following a violent storm, another prophecy came – the longest single prophecy in their history:


That electricity awoke our Xereth sleeping and found him blood and bones. Hair of sun and of snow. Blood of icy fortresses and little earth. From the swarm let the tailbone take and raise up, a peacock make, safe in unfaithful towers of gold.

The cusp is upon us! Much will depend on the mother!

By Atlas and Prometheus, The Light Giver and by other names, will you not recognise our Prince Xereth? One day he may yet again attempt to steal the knowledge and deliver it to the feeble. But first surrender him to the last, loyal, sombre messenger. As his lungs know to take air, as his heart knows to drum, he will know her – that brute, the old father conceived of the assurance for his own pleasure (or so he was convinced).

{laughter sounds}

Honour not, erstwhile promises if they might be, for more importantly he will bring you the sun! The messenger holds the shelter and the spark and his true heart. The messenger is the reflection and the catalyst. Two locks, one key. Singularity! So then: shatter every unfledged fondness, and disregard the sad maiden's tears. No matter the sorrow! No matter the cost! For the grace to move the world exists in him alone (our Xereth) – yet only through this one. Only as one can it be done. Tear all down! Tear all down, to build all up! The messenger will amplify untold his prodigious command to hold you all in his hands, and there lies the only chance of saving from the DESTRUCTION agreed against you all! Here is the gift from two guardians (two thieves) who love this piteous little lump of carbon. True, true. Never was there a graver caution (to this world). Arrange it the minimum, some dozen years before the great alignment of the age. Make certain it be! Or else all the worlds of the world, shall surely perish here, when the Naxath comes.

In the time until: nourish our bright one, in heart and hand and head. Take care, indulge him not in flattery and finery, lest the decay of privilege ruin him. Before the Naxath is come and passed over you all alive, no precious child can be worth as much as this one!

So much will depend upon the mother!


Transmission: Doresha Brahma, July 24 1954, at Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.

(Re-translated from the original transmission, by Polydora Rosier c. 1957.)

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