All eyes honed in on her. She regally walked to the relic table. Her handmaid settled into one of the chairs at the table.
Elder Willowheart's robes flowed around her feet. He noticed she was wearing a thick black shall. Even from a distance, he could see her eyes traveling the items laid before her. Her fingers of one hand traced the edge of the table as she walked around it's edges. Her expression was one of serious concentration. Almost as if she was trying to listen to whispers if the objects could speak.
Sinking further into his seat, he set his elbow on the arm rest. He set his temple against his fingers and got comfortable. She paused in front of the Dwarven helmet. Fingers seemed to dance along the table towards it. A hover over the metal. Connection of finger tips to the fin on it's crown. The room held it's breath as seconds dragged by. Her shoulders shifted down and she lightly shook her head. A collective air of disappointment from the council room. Her fingers danced to the next. Each object she touched had the room sinking deeper and deeper into disenchantment. Nothing was happening. He was beginning to think that today wouldn't be the day. They'd have to bring more relics for her tomorrow.
She was at the end of the table now. Just the human shield and Elven staff left. Her fingers did their choreography towards the shield.
The light. It crackled across her eyes. His heart jumped as he jerked forward in his chair. Fingers hadn't even connected with it when her posture emulated her behavior he'd seen yesterday. Stiffness in her frame. Eyes glazed over in lack of focus. Facial features twitching. Every body in the room shifted forward as anticipatory excitement.
This vision was far longer than the ones he'd experienced. As the moments slowly slipped by her face began to distort in a look of distraught mortification. Her lips began to quiver as her eyes widened in what seemed a look of fear. A sour feeling hit his gut. This was not good. Not good at all. This was a heavy vision. A dark one. Desperately he wanted to know what was playing across her mind.
A painful gasp. She choked a breath as her body seemed to go limp. Her hands almost slammed onto the table as she braced herself. Her handmaid immediately materialized at her side. She was quick to slip an arm around her waist and an arm over her shoulder. It was obvious she was supporting the majority of her weight. The vision had taken it's toll.
Intense energy was building as they all anxiously waited for her to recover. She shoulders rose in a breath. Another collective stifling silence.
“War…” She croaked.
He expected as much, he waited for more detail. Half of the room squirmed in surprise.
“A grand war…Civil war of us…of the Eldria Clan…”
His heart picked up pace. The shock of disbelief hit like a shock wave. It was unfathomable. He gripped the arms of his chair. She was stuttering out words now, hiccuping breaths in between.
“A divide of alliances…death…blood…betrayal…”
Murmuring now. A long minute of alarmed voices building as she heavily breathed.
“But there will be peace…”
Surprise hit him. He wasn't expecting such a switch. It sent everyone else reeling as well. A violent silence ensued at her strengthening voice.
“A golden age…where bonds cannot be broken…”
Everyone seemed to be rising from their seat.
Her head weakly lifted, her focus across from him. Gradually her wild eyes traveled the room. They kept flicking along the rows of seats. Slowly she head turned in his direction. Their gazes locked. Her brows began to upturn as her face flickered in expressions he couldn't recognize. Her gaze didn't move on. It stayed on him. Apprehension started rising.
“John…” She choked out.
Heads snapped. He was suddenly the center of attention. A dense feeling of pressure stilled his lungs.
“John, you are our Champion. Our Shepard. You will deliver us from the bowels of Hades. By your hand we are ushered into this age of prosperity. Under your guiding catalyst we are united for another millennia.”
Still he stared into the glow of her gaze. Time began trickling. It crept along like her verdict. A long moment of words registering. Meaning gradually sinking in. They suddenly hit like an axe to his sternum.
Mind wiped blank. Nothing in his skull. No thoughts.
Just lost in her eyes.
An insidious beast began to make it's decent onto his consciousness. It's fingers were dense primal emotions that crawled across the inside of his cranium. They began to strangle. Asphyxiate. Annihilate. Destroy. His body started reacting. Muscles beginning to shake. Bones rattling. Stomach stitching itself inside out. Urge to vomit as the room started to abruptly catapult in different directions. He didn't know which way was up.
“John…”
He could hear him, but his voice was muffled by the drum beats exploding in his ears. Another calling of his name. But from no particular direction.
He had to get out. Get anywhere but here. He stood. Instantly he was lightheaded. Hands blindly reached. They barely found the backs of chairs. Desperately he tried to support himself. Legs would barely cooperate. He tried to make sense of his visual input. It was all tumbling now. He knew he was stumbling through the aisle. At some point hands gripped his shoulders. Their forceful guidance stayed. He wasn't sure how long he walked for. The hands pulled him to a stop.
“John?”
Reginald's face was split like the lens of a kaleidoscope. It sent his brain into overload.
Without warning, his body rebelled.
Doubled over. Volatile lurch. Contents of his stomach pitched. Spasms purged him over and over until there was nothing left. He could barely breath in between violent wretches. Muscles burned as they heaved past his endurance. A stinging traveled up his nasal passages. Bitter acid ran along his tongue. Bile and spit on his lips. He gulped down the air to feed his starving lungs. Abdomen was shaking as he became aware that two sets of arms were supporting him around the middle.
“…doctor and druid.”
Thaddeus's calm tone had an undertone of urgency.
“Let's get him to sitting first.” Reginald's voice was unnerved.
More guidance of hands. Familiar feeling of grass through his trousers. Scratchy bark against his back. Cool air leached the heat from his sweaty forehead. In an attempt to orient himself, he dug his fingers into the terrain. The moist, playable dirt pushing under his nails and across his skin at last grounded him. He felt centered.
“How are you feeling?”
With effort, he concentrated on bringing Thaddeus into focus. He was crouched down next to him, pulling off his jacket. His brow had deep creases of worry. The skin of his face was pale. Eyes were flicking all over his.
“I don't know what I feel at the moment…” He muttered.
“I meant physically.”
“Better…” He muttered.
Thaddeus nodded. Jacket was used to wipe his lips and face. He was grateful for the caring gesture. Thaddeus took a long sigh. It was apparent he wanted to say something. He didn't bother trying to ask. The question wouldn't have come to fruition anyways. Now that his stomach was empty, everything else was flooding in. So much began competing in his mind. It all cancelled itself out into numbness.
Champion. Shepard.
The words kept bouncing between his ringing ears.
Is that what she saw during their formalities? Did she see him being a ‘champion’? A leader of wisdom?
It didn't feel right. It couldn't have been him she saw.
He wasn't wise. Hadn't experienced enough of life and the world to be of any guide. An elf would be better suited for this task. They were exceptionally logical, patient, noble, and not easily swayed by emotions. They lived long enough to see the repeated patterns of history and implement lasting solutions.
Lady Fate couldn't have made such a poor decision. This destiny just didn't fit.
He was just a human. A flawed one.
Sharp anxiety was starting to fester. Fear leached into his heart.
He needed to speak to Elder Willowheart. He needed answers to his ever growing questions and heavy sense of responsibility. Maybe the other visions she had would shed some light to scatter the darkness taking over his mind.