Chapter 239: Prophecy

Syryn had been summoned by the oracle and it came out of the blue. A tattoed mer had knocked on his door late at night and informed him in no uncertain terms that he was expected to show up at the Abyssal temple where their oracle lived. The mer told him that a guard would arrive in the morning to escort him to the temple doors.

Syryn was unable to fall asleep again after the mer departed. Loaded with thoughts about what might happen at the temple, Syryn scarcely noticed the hours go by till he was disturbed again.

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A mer wearing brightly decorated armour escorted Syryn to the temple doors as had been told to him.

The abyssal temple was surprisingly built to resemble a nautilus shell. Bright orange and turquoise colours painted geometrical patterns on the ridged surface of the temple. The entire thing was nestled in a field of coral skeletons that grew taller than the temple building. 

"Honoured guest," the guard gestured towards the door, "the oracle awaits you."

Syryn's first impression of the temple was positive. He had been nervous about stepping inside for some reason but the anxious beating of his heart calmed once he was within the walls of the nautilus shell. With nobody around to guide him, the mage walked through an elliptical hole in the inner shell wall. He kept walking through holes that led him in a spiral around the shell till he reached the central most chamber.

"Welcome, Syryn," a raspy greeted him.

An ancient-looking woman faced him from atop a pillow where her torso ended at the waist. The mage was mildly horrified by what he was seeing.

She had wrinkles that folded and sagged as though her skin was dripping off her body. The oracle still had hair despite her age and they fell over her chest in a river of grey.

"Why did you summon me?" He asked the ancient one when what he really wanted to ask was - granny, where is the lower part of your body?

"I called you here to explain why you were brought to Silisia."

The mage wanted to offer her a glass of honeyed water because her raspy voice was a sharp scrape against his eardrums.

"You have inherited the sage's pearl, Syryn Nigh'hart."

Nigh'hart. A tiny gap in his memory was filled and it gave him the satisfaction of having found something he was looking for.

"Where is this sage's pearl then?" He asked.

The oracle's glassy gaze slowly travelled to his forehead.

"Inside you."

"Inside me?" He raised his brows. How did that happen?

"You don't remember anything about your life but that is alright, Syryn. It will come back to you. The sage's pearl has consumed your third eye. The pearl has taken its rightful place inside there." She raised her arm and pointed to his forehead with a bony finger. "The pearl has been searching for you, Syryrn, for a very long time."

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The mage was silenced by the things she was saying about him. Having just found out he had a third eye, Syryn questioned his humanity. What was he if not human? And if the pearl had consumed his eye to replace it, did it mean that the pearl was also an eye?

"It sounds like a lot of bullshit," Syryn said to the oracle. Still, it explained the pain on his forehead and the headaches he kept getting.

"Do you not feel its presence in your mind, Syryn?"

The mage was suddenly enlightened. The presence that had puppeteered him; it had to be something to do with the sage's pearl.

"But how did it get inside me?" He asked.

The oracle shook her head. "I do not know that. Five years ago, the pearl disappeared from its altar in Silisia. And when it found you, I knew immediately that my prophecy had borne fruit."

"What prophecy?" He sharply asked. The mage had an instinctive dislike for prophecies. They gave too much power to fate, took too much power away from self-agency. He wondered if prophesies determined the future, or if they were just a window into the future. Regardless, the very act of prophesying was an influence on the actions and decisions of the person being foretold about.

"You, Syryn Nigh'hart, are the new sage of Amhasag and will rule it with an iron fist. Nothing in the realm of Amhasag can disobey your will. Silisia will be freed of its chains and you will be its new King."

The oracle's prophesy brought the sky down upon Syryn's head. He was held in place by shock, not even taking water in through his gills. Every cell in his body stopped and froze. The power of a prophecy taking hold of his future washed down upon him from his head to his toe. Syryn felt goosebumps prickle like zaps of electricity along his skin.

"I don't want to be the King of Silisia," he said in a strangled whisper. "Amhasag does not need a ruler with an iron fist."

Amhasag encompassed everything that lay underwater. All the world's oceans, lakes, rivers and ponds belonged to Syryn.

"Syryn, the sage was one of the most powerful of beings of his time. His consciousness remains in the pearl, eager to guide you. You can reject his powers but it will only lead to misery. Embrace it and carve out a path through the brambles that grow in your way."

It was difficult for the mage to accept what the oracle was telling him. But this explained the strange things that had occurred to him so far - talking marine animals, the snakes coming to save him, the persuasive ability his words had had on Grifan's friends. 

"What is a prophecy?" Syryn asked the oracle. He needed to know if there was a way to avoid becoming King.

The oracle smiled. "There are many futures that await us, young Sage. A prophecy is a nudge towards the future desired by something with enough power to pluck a string in the fabric of time."

Syryn thought about it. There was only one revelation that came to him. Power was everything. He needed more power to change his fate. He would receive that power only by embracing the sage's gift.

"Does the King of Silisia know that it is prophesied for me to usurp his rule?"

"The King only knows that you are to be the saviour of Silisia."

Syryn was dismayed by it. He wanted to leave Silisia as soon as he could. The mage decided he would fight this fate and run away from the mer kingdom.

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