Portents and Signs

*Clearcourt Castle, Spire of Magic*

"And so you see, the prayer becomes not only just a series of incantations that form the core of the spell you are casting, but it also aligns the energy within your body to achieve the ends you seek," the voice echoed through the stone chamber.

Cassandra nodded, jotting some notes down in a journal as she watched Father Elliot scrawl some more barely decipherable words across the chalkboard he had on the far side of the laboratory. She knew that it was important that she continue her studies and she was trying to remain focused, but her thoughts continued to wander away from the lesson about magical foci and back to recent events.

Frustrated, Cassandra stared down at her notes, which were not nearly as neat as she'd prefer and likely would be recopied later on into a more presentable form. She laid her hand flat on the page, noting the way the black nailpolish she'd taken to wearing in mourning stood out against the white of the paper. She sighed again, reaching up to push some of her hair out of her face in frustration before a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Cassandra, I know that things are a bit unsettled right now," Father Elliot's voice said kindly from right above her. Cassandra's head jerked up and her eyes widened as she realized that the elderly man had noted her lack of attention and had approached her without her noticing. "It's alright. We can continue this another day when your mind is more clear. I do think it's important we continue this though; you are one of my brightest apprentices and I would hate to see your potential go to waste."

He offered Cassandra a rare smile and she couldn't help but find herself returning it. The old man had been her mentor for many years now, helping to nurture the small spark of talent she had for the arcane and the healing arts and bringing those skills to life. Her parents had been so thrilled to see her take an interest in something that they had allowed her to become a full apprentice under the esteemed Father Elliot, even though her duties as heir to the Arderne family would need to be set aside for a time.

It was the small kindnesses that her teacher gave her that made Cassandra appreciate the lessons she'd been taught all the more. She smiled up at her mentor, shaking her head gently, "No, Father, it is silly to allow myself to be distracted. Times are indeed difficult and perhaps the future is a bit uncertain, but I know I won't improve if I don't focus. My prayers receive answers, and I know that this means something. Learning how to connect with that force for the good of the Kingdom is important. I'll try to pay more attention, I promise."

Father Elliot smiled at her again and nodded, "I know you will, Cassandra. I have no doubts about your dedication. Even so, in times like this sometimes the best thing to do is commune with your Goddess directly. There are so few now dedicated to her name, and it is rare she answers prayers in these days. Perhaps some time at her shrine will ease your mind, and it will certainly do your spells good as she renews them."

Cassandra nodded, rising slowly from the tall chair upon which she perched. She leaned down and closed her journal, looking around the cluttered laboratory with a sigh. She wanted to continue studying, wanted to learn more about both magic and the every day science that Father Elliot dabbled in here in his laboratory. Experiments bubbled here and there on the tables against the far walls, and hung above the narrow space was a fully reconstructed skeleton of some winged creature that none could identify but that always drew her eye and piqued her curiosity. Here, in this place of learning, she felt safe and comfortable. It was a refuge from the worries that sat at the edges of her thoughts, waiting to get in. Even leaving for the Shrine of Lycania was less comfort to her than simply staying within the small set of chambers and smelling the scent of ancient tomes and the acrid smoke of experiments long since failed.

Even so, she clutched her journal to her chest and offered Father Elliot a smile, putting on a brave face as she prepared to leave. Just as she turned towards the wooden door that sealed off Father Elliot's chambers, the doors burst inward, a crowd in the corridor beyond yelling and jostling each other.

Cassandra reeled back until her hip was pressed against the edge of the lab table as the crowd pushed into the room. Father Elliot walked towards them, his hands raised above his head and his voice loud, "Here now, what is all this fuss? This is a place of learning and quiet contemplation. Please, everyone, lower your voices and speak one at a time so I can understand."

"Father!" one of the people in the front of the crowd said, pushing his way forward. He had a second man supported against his side, the man's arm wrapped around his neck, "Two men are injured and we could not find any of the priests in the lower chambers. They're bleeding badly and need help!"

Father Elliot blinked and then nodded, turning to Cassandra and barking out instructions before moving to follow them himself, "Cassandra! Clear that table. I'll clear this one here. We'll need to lay them out so I can see the wounds. Fetch clean cloths and hot water as well as my medical kit if you would deary."

Cassandra raced to obey while the crowd pushed further into the room. Quickly two of the tables were cleared off and two injured men were laying atop them, bloody wounds on the arm of one matched by a puncture to the stomach of a second. Father Elliot clicked his tongue and shook his head, shooing the crowd away from the tables, "These men have been slashed and stabbed. What happened? Tell me quickly."

"They got into an argument about which family should ascend to the throne next," one of the people in the crowd said. "They drew weapons and dueled one another to a standstill, with none the victor."

Cassandra's eyes widened as she looked down at the man in front of her, blood seeping from the cuts on his arm. His clothing was nicer than average and even through the blood stains she could tell it was of a finer material. He was a noble then, as was his opponent most likely. It had been long since nobles had drawn blood like this, and never over such a dire situation as an empty throne. It gave Cassandra chills to think of what was happening throughout the Kingdom.

"That's enough for now then," Father Elliot said, hushing the crowd. "I will attend to them but this is not a show for you to gawk at. Everyone in the corridor if you will. Yes you as well. Out you go now, there's a good lad." With that, he began to physically shoo people out of his way, cowing the crowd and forcing them back into the hallway before gently closing the door in their faces.

"Well...now that we have some space, let us see if we can help them, shall we Cassandra?" Father Elliot said cheerfully. "This man is more gravely wounded, so I will tend to him. Your man looks like he just needs some stitches and some Soothing. Can you handle it then?"

Cassandra studied the wounds, noting that they were shallow despite the amount of blood. She bit her lip and then nodded, "Yes, Father, I think I can handle this."

"That's a good lass then," Father Elliot said before nonchalantly ripping open the tunic of the noble in front of him, not caring a bit about the value of the garment. He reached into the bag Cassandra had brought to him, taking out a fine needle and thread before he began to place his hand over the wound. Soon the small room was filled with chanting as he began a healing spell, leaving Cassandra to her less complicated work.

"Please, it hurts so much..." the noble on the table moaned. Cassandra nodded, patting his arm before placing her hand over the wound. She began to sing a prayer to her Goddess, the magic forming in her mind in the form of a Soothing spell to ease his pain. She could not completely close a wound as Father Elliot might, but she could ease the noble's pain as she stitched his cuts. A pale blue glow surrounded her hand as she pressed it to the wound, and the nobleman hissed in pain for a second before sighing with relief as her prayer was answered and the pain receded.

Cassandra nodded in satisfaction, taking her now bloody hand off the wound and picking up her own needle and thread. She began to stitch the flesh back together, expertly weaving the needle through the injured flesh as she'd been taught. In a few moments, a nasty sword slash had turned into a neat line of stitches, blood still covering the arm which she dabbed at carefully with a clean cloth.

As Cassandra looked down at her hands, she felt a wave of vertigo overcome her. She grabbed the edge of the table with one bloody hand, her eyes wide as she recognized something welling up within her. Many in her family over the years had suffered visions, and they always had specific symptoms that came with them just before one would appear. It was not hard for Cassandra to recognize she was about to foresee something, and fear built up within her as the scene before her eyes wavered and faded.

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She stood in a field, her bloody hands held out before her, still gripping the needle in one hand. The ground before her was littered with blowing orange sand and burning cinders that bit into or covered the grass around her. At her feet lay the corpse of a nobleman, his hands still clutching the broken sword he'd been wielding and his body gashed with the marks of claws and partially burned.

Cassandra gasped in horror, her head snapping up as she saw the scene all around her. The field she was in was littered with corpses, all of them bearing terrible wounds and burns, the stench of their dead flesh assaulting her nose. Wisps of smoke drifted over the endless piles of the dead, the cinders raining down around her like falling petals of bright orange. In the distance she saw the Great Wall that surrounded the Kingdom of Olinoth on all sides, its massive structure punctured and the stones that composed it tumbled down in a ruinous beach.

Above her the sky crackled with heat lightning, dark clouds of burning ash drifting overhead and blotting out the sun. Even without the sun's light, a dirty orange glow filled the sky, as if the world itself burned. Cassandra looked down, her eyes wide as she looked over the fields of the dead, realizing she was seeing the aftermath of a terrible battle the likes of which her Kingdom had never known. A battle that had been lost by the brave defenders of her realm.

Crows alighted on the corpses, pecking at them and cawing even as tears rolled down Cassandra's face. The horror of the scene was too much for her to bear, and she began to shake, her stomach retching and heaving from the death and destruction.

One crow alighted near her, staring at her from its place atop the shattered face of one of the countless victims of the battle. It cawed at her, it's voice loud in the eerie silence of the dead plains. "Caw! CAW!"

"N-no...g-go away.." she said feebly, still retching.

"Cassandra! CASSANDRA!" the crow cawed. She blinked once, shaking her head, feeling the world spinning around her as she gasped and tried to hold back her vomit. The scene turning black before her eyes.

************************************

"Cassandra! Are you quite alright my girl?" Father Elliot said, concern in his voice. He was standing right next to her, holding her upright as she retched.

Cassandra blinked, the vision fading from her eyes and the room returning around her. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of books, of learning and expelling the scent of charred flesh and burned ruin.

"Y-yes...I-I think so..." she said softly. "I uh...Just...the sight of the blood...I wasn't expecting..."

Father Elliot released Cassandra's arm, patting her shoulder gently, "It's quite alright. Sometimes it happens if you see too much of it. You should go and get some rest for a time. It'll fade in a few minutes."

"Y-yes, I'll do that. T-thank you, Father," Cassandra said, wiping her hands clean on one of the cloths.

Father Elliot waved at her absently, studying the nobleman she'd been working on, "Yes, it's fine. We'll resume your lessons tomorrow. Excellent work here, by the way. He should recover nicely and with little scarring."

Cassandra nodded, gathering up her journal before dashing from the room, hurrying not towards the Shrine but towards the safety of Arderne Estate and her personal chambers where no one would bother her. Her heart still pounded in her chest from the terror the vision had inflicted in her, and from another rising fear.

Every member of the Arderne family that had begun to see the visions had gone insane. Every one of them had slowly decayed in mind and body until they had died. It had happened many many times, a black secret that the Ardernes never discussed in polite company. The fear that having a vision brought almost made Cassandra stop right where she was and weep. She had never been this scared in all her life.

Will I lose my mind? What does it all mean?

She dashed on, running down the streets of Clearcourt towards her home. She had no idea what any of it meant, but she knew she had to hide until she was stable enough to fake a smile again. And then she knew she needed to find help. This was more than she could face alone.

I have to tell Tristana. Consequences be damned. If I'm to go mad, my friends should at least know. They should at least have the chance to say goodbye. I have no idea how much time I've got now.

Time passes so swiftly.

With that she was through the gates of Arderne Estate and running down the lushly appointed corridors, her chambers beckoning her like a beacon in her mind. There at least, for a short time, she could pretend like she was still safe. Like the world had not changed entirely in a week's time.