Unwilling Eldritch Horror of Fortune

Inspira awoke with a jolt, her eyes swirling with sights and events of things to come, sweat pouring down her frame as the prophetic visions and maddening shouts assaulted every sense she had. She had never experienced something so intense before, and she rattled with the effort of containing such sights.

She saw… she saw figures, four of them, entering from the void of the great beyond. She saw them rip through the fabric of their very existence, tearing through the sea of souls and the sanctity of their very world. These were figures clad in false cloaks of mortal flesh who promised nothing but death and destruction.

One being was an entire cosmos within itself, its body housing uncountable fates all being snuffed out while more and more were created to replace the lost souls. It was a being of creation and all-knowing might, just as it was a being of destruction and entropy. The Oracle could feel a small piece of her being, of her mind, sucked into that great expanse that made up this being’s body, and she had to turn away before she lost everything.

Standing by that figure were two similar entities. Inspira’s mind almost broke when she tried to glance at the two squirming forms beside the first, their small form belying a terror of untold magnitude just swimming underneath their surface. Her mind could scarcely understand what she was looking at, her mortal mind seeming so small and insignificant before these eldritch beings, but she knew that these two bring nothing but madness and ruin.

The last form was a mass of red and black, its body expanding and contracting as its midnight-black tendrils grasped and reached for everything around it to devour. The thing radiated a pure malice that threatened to destroy everything that Inspira ever loved or cared for, and she struggled in vain to escape its notice.

The Oracle opened her gasping mouth to scream as she was forced to gaze at the four impossible entities, and she felt her soul and mind buckle under the weight of their presence. She wanted to scream, but not a single sound could escape her lips, and all she could do was continue to endure the visions.

Her sudden movement disturbed the man sleeping peacefully beside her.

“Inspira,” her partner mumbled, “What’s going on?”

Inspira couldn’t respond even if she wanted to. She was struggling just to keep her sanity, to keep her mind intact so that she may pass down this dire warning to the rest of the people around her, yet even now she could feel the tenuous grasp on reality slowly slip away from her.

Hathor got up and lit the lantern beside their bed, turning to see his lover properly. He froze when he saw Inspira’s sweat-soaked form. He had never seen such an intense vision from her before, in fact, Hathor wasn’t even sure she wasn’t experiencing a vision until he felt the waves of divine mana radiating off her. He immediately went to alert the Palace officials of the news. Something important was being relayed to the Oracle, and the people needed to be ready to receive her word.

“Guards!” he shouted as he got dressed, “Protect the Oracle!”

Four massive men wearing ornate leather armor walked in and immediately took positions between the beds. They froze for a brief second when they saw the condition that plagued the Inspira.

“Get the Palace physician as well,” Hathor commanded one of the four, “I need to inform the King! Something unprecedented is happening.”

Hathor took one final look at the Oracle and muttered a prayer in his heart; he saw that Inspira’s gaze was peering so far away, focused on something that only she could see. Hathor grimaced as he saw the pain, panic, and a myriad of other emotions cascading down her convulsing form, but as much as he wished he could comfort her, he knew that his duties took precedence.

“Go, my Lord,” the palace guard said, “We will ensure the Oracle’s safety.”

He nodded one last time and ran toward the royal chambers.

Within the hour, the entire Palace was put on high alert as every priest, theologian and individual of importance waited outside the Oracle’s chambers. Those who were closest to the God of Fate could feel the unease and energies fluctuating from the room, and soon, a nervous air permeated the space around them. Whatever message was being conveyed by the god’s chosen messenger was dire.

Inspira stumbled out of the room a short while later, her whole body soaked in sweat and her features disheveled, before stumbling on the ground from sheer fatigue. The palace physician quickly went by her side but she pushed the man aside with a weak gesture. Everyone else in attendance gathered around the Oracle, keen to hear what she had to say.

“The End approaches…” she gasped, her voice hoarse and barely audible over the rasping of her breathing, “The truth dies, eternity ends, the stars dim, and malice reigns… Dusk comes to us… the end comes! The end comes! Death-”

The Palace staff struggled to understand Inspira’s message, but before anyone could ask her to clarify, the woman seized up into another vision, and a silent scream of anguish failed to leave her lips. Whatever final message she wanted to give was lost to the world, and Inspira, the chief Oracle of the God of Fate, died that night.

Similar events happened all over the Altera world in every kingdom, every empire and every country in between. That night, the various Oracles, holy persons and religious figures were all sent the same message: something had invaded their realm, and something wicked was looming on the horizon. The Prophecies of death could not be ignored, and every race braced for the worst. They only hoped that they could survive what was to come.