Adrius sat down at the table, the ancient tome before him settling into the room like an uninvited guest. Lysander stood nearby, his eyes flickering with anticipation of what exactly what they will find. They can smell the musty scent of the old book, mingling with the faint traces of incense that lingered in the chamber.
Carefully, Adrius reached out and opened the tome, the aged pages crackling softly under his fingers. The faint outlines of archaic symbols greeted him. Lysander watched intently as Adrius began to read, his gaze scanning the faded text with the precision and patience that only centuries of experience could grant.
For a long while there was only silence, broken occasionally by the rustle of parchment as Adrius turned each delicate page. The text was dense and written in a script that few could decipher, but Adrius moved through it with a fluid grace, his mind parsing the ancient language with ease.
He had seen many such texts in his lifetime—prophecies, records of visions, cryptic warnings from eras long forgotten—but something about this one tugged at his instincts.
As he delved deeper into the tome, Adrius's expression shifted from one of scholarly interest to one of growing concern.
The text described a prophecy, one that had been recorded by an unknown shaman centuries ago. This particular prophecy, labeled "The Vision of the Meat of Doom," had been dismissed as the ravings of a madman. The very title had led many scholars to disregard it as nothing more than nonsense.
The prophecy spoke of a time when a great darkness would descend upon the world, its source a "Meat of Doom"—a pulsating, living mass that would herald the end of days.
The shaman had described it as a twisted lump of flesh, a thing of nightmares that would feed on the fear and despair of the living. This flesh, the shaman had warned, was the core of a cataclysmic force that would rise to consume the world.
He continued to read, his mind racing. The prophecy went on to describe how this Meat of Doom would be nearly impossible to find, hidden away in a place where shadows writhed and light was devoured.
It would be guarded by lesser manifestations of the darkness, each one a piece of the whole, designed to mislead and terrify those who want to destroy it.
The shaman had claimed that only those with the strength of Dragons and the wisdom of the ancients would stand a chance of finding the Meat of Doom. And even then the vision had ended with a grim warning—finding the flesh would not be the end of the battle.
Adrius leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as he processed what he had just read. The implications were staggering. This prophecy that once called as gibberish might hold the key to understanding and ultimately defeating the Great Calamity.
"Lysander," Adrius said finally. "This prophecy… it may be more than just the ramblings of a madman. If what I suspect is true then this could be a vital piece of the puzzle. We must treat this prophecy with seriously. I need you to gather all the records we have that might relate to this… anything that even hints at the existence of such a flesh, and any means to destroy it."
"Of course, Master," Lysander replied, already mentally cataloging the sources he would need to consult.
As Lysander exited the chamber, Adrius remained seated, his eyes fixed on the open tome before him. He knew they were running out of time. They should search for this sooner, but then again. The Great Calamity just suddenly arrived without more warning so they have no idea.
If the Meat of Doom was real, then they had just discovered the most crucial piece of their battle against the darkness
And failure, Adrius knew, was not an option.
"I need to call Erend."
Erend made his way through the stone corridors of the Elf Palace, his heavy footsteps echoing softly. The tension of the recent battle still clung to the air like a shroud and every now and then he passed an Elven soldier nursing a wound or staring blankly at the floor, lost in their thoughts.
The battle had been brutal and though they had survived, the weight of what still loomed over them cast a long shadow.
Finally, Erend reached the place where Adrien and Billy were resting. As he pushed open the wooden door he was met with the sight of his two human friends. They sat on the ground, Erend didn't see any wound on their body.
His Captain looked up first, his sharp eyes dull with exhaustion but still holding a flicker of the tenacity that Erend had come to admire. Billy was next, offering a weak smile.
Erend could see that they are aware that what they had faced was only the beginning.
"How are you two holding up?" Erend asked.
Adrien sighed and leaned back against the wall, "Could be worse. We're still breathing, so I suppose that's something."
Billy nodded in agreement. "Yeah, though it feels like we're just waiting for the other shoe to drop. The Elves here... they've been good to us. But everyone knows that what we fought isn't over."
Erend nodded, understanding all too well the burden that weighed on them.
"Unfortunately, You're right," he said.
As he spoke, one of the Elven warriors who had been stationed nearby approached. The Elf inclined his head in respect before addressing Erend directly.
"We owe you a great debt, Erend," the Elf said. "If you're not here we would not have stood a chance against the horrors. Your power gave us the strength to fight when all seemed lost."
Erend shook his head slightly, dismissing the praise.
"We were all fighting for our lives out there. I just playin a small part," Erend said.
The Elf smiled. "Still, we are grateful. You've given us hope."
Erend didn't say anything anymore because he don't know what to say. The Elf bowed once again then withdraw.
A moment later, Erend, Adrien, and Billy can hear a voice inside their heads.
"You hear me? I need to talk." It was Adrius.