Eamon walked quietly through the dimly lit halls of the ancient stronghold, the stone walls bearing the weight of centuries. Every footstep echoed through the quiet corridors, and a subtle tension hung in the air. The meeting room of the sages awaited him, where knowledge beyond mortal lifespans was shared, guarded, and debated. The sage's mind raced with the weight of his growing concerns. The Scourge of the Cage was coming, though the exact nature of its arrival remained unknown.

He finally reached the heavy wooden door and pushed it open, revealing the familiar chamber. Inside, seven other sages were already gathered, seated around a circular table. They greeted him with nods, their expressions solemn. The room was dim, the only light coming from the enchanted blue flames flickering in sconces along the walls. Eamon made his way to his seat, near the middle of the circle, his silver eyes catching the glow of the mystical flames. As he settled in, he glanced toward the seat at the head of the table. The Master Watcher, the oldest and most revered among them, sat with his eyes closed, his face calm but unreadable.

The Master Watcher had lived for over a thousand years and had personally witnessed the rise and fall of both the Third and Fourth Scourges. His wisdom was vast, but today, his silence weighed heavily on the room. Eamon took a deep breath and began.

“I have come to discuss the signs, the tremors in the air, the whispers of an impending shift.” His voice was calm but laced with underlying anxiety. “The Scourge of the Cage is nearing, I feel it.”

The others watched him intently. Elara, a sage who had lived for 300 years, leaned forward, her brow furrowed. “What have you seen? The prophecies say it will rise as the others have—a great upheaval, a clear signal to the world.”

Eamon shook his head. “I do not know for certain. The signs are unclear, as if shrouded in mist. But we know the Scourge will rise, as it always does. That much is inevitable.”

“I find your uncertainty troubling, Eamon,” said Caldros, another elder sage, his eyes narrowing slightly. “If we are to prepare for this Scourge, we need more than just a sense of foreboding.”

Eamon sighed, rubbing his temples. “I share your frustration, Caldros. But the Scourge’s arrival has always followed patterns that even we, as sages, cannot fully predict. The prophecies speak in riddles, and the future is never set in stone.”

The elder sage beside him, known as Meren, a figure with deep-set eyes and the wisdom of five centuries, leaned forward, his voice deep and measured. “We have faced these Scourges before. Each time, the signs were clear enough. But prophecies are fickle things. They reveal as much as they hide.” His gaze was piercing as he studied Eamon, a slight nod of acknowledgment. “Perhaps this time, we are simply looking in the wrong places.”

Eamon nodded. “That is my concern. We must remain vigilant, even if the signs seem elusive. The Scourge will rise, whether we are prepared or not.”

“And what of the Champion?” Elara asked, her voice quieter now. “The prophecy speaks of one who will rise from the dirt to face the Scourge. Have you found any sign of him?”

Eamon hesitated, his thoughts turning to Jack. He had watched the young hunter closely for years, noting his potential, his strength of character. But Jack was not yet aware of the destiny that might be his. Eamon knew that time was running short, and he would need to tell Jack soon. Still, he couldn’t be sure if Jack was the one. “Not yet,” Eamon finally replied. “But I am searching.”

Silence filled the room as the sages exchanged glances. Most of them remained skeptical of Eamon’s concerns. After all, for centuries, they had relied on clear signs, on the grandeur of each Scourge’s arrival. The Scourge of Chains had cast a dark shroud over the land when it rose; the Scourge of the Collar had marked its coming with the fall of a mighty kingdom. Even the Third Scourge, the Yoke, had made its presence known by a series of calamitous events that left no room for doubt.

Eamon straightened, his voice firm. “We must continue to monitor the land, the people, for any unusual signs. Even if they are not clear to us now, we cannot let our guard down.”

Caldros leaned back, arms crossed, still skeptical. “Signs or not, what would you have us do? Watch every corner of the kingdom, question every traveler?”

“Our duty,” Eamon interrupted, “is to ensure that we are not caught off guard. We must prepare for all eventualities. The Scourge does not rise for idle threats. It rises to reshape the world.”

Elara spoke again, her voice softer but resolute. “What do you propose, Eamon? What course of action should we take?”

“For now, we must remain watchful,” Eamon replied. “We cannot rush into assumptions. And I will continue my search for the Champion. When the time comes, he will need to be ready.”

The room fell into another silence as the sages considered Eamon’s words. The elder sage, Meren, looked thoughtful but did not argue further. Eamon’s words had clearly struck a chord, though the road ahead was still uncertain.

The Master Watcher remained silent throughout the entire exchange, his eyes closed as though in deep contemplation. His silence was unnerving, but Eamon had long ago learned that when the Master Watcher spoke, it would be at the moment of utmost importance. For now, his silence was a sign of deliberation. Eamon knew it was a sign that the discussion was far from over.

“I will continue my efforts,” Eamon said, standing from his seat. “The Scourge is coming, whether we are ready for it or not. And if we do not act soon, it may already be too late.”

With that, the meeting concluded. The other sages murmured amongst themselves as Eamon left the chamber, his thoughts heavy. He had planted the seed of doubt, but it would take time for it to grow. And time was something they might not have enough of.

As Eamon walked out into the night, he gazed up at the stars. The night sky was clear, but the storm was surely coming. And when it arrived, the world would change once again.