VII.
“Of spring rains and summer storms, one could dream eternally.
Through growing pains, our trials, and tribulations we all learn
To make it through onto the other side and face the Flow’s burn.”
Spoke avidly the great Shamaness, gazing o’er fervently
At the demigoddess, though counting only a baker’s dozen moons
She had eyes that sparked with intrigue and interest like none of her commune.
A grand procession was now fully in action. So carefully
Planned was the ceremonious reveal of the prophecy.
VIII.
“Two silhouettes will merge as their shadows shall intertwine.
A raven with two heads, disoriented.” The words usher
In the crowd “Its wings still do not listen to one another.
The path: one of many roads they’d take.” She made a sign.
“But only one, the central one - lined with blood; red and blue.
Only it leads towards the temple in the sky!” then withdrew
Herself inwards did the Shamaness. In a recline
She let out: “Where life and flow blend into a murky line.”
IX.
Yet now the Shaman’s eyes turn ‘round, gazing into her own soul.
A twitch in her posture, jerks back and forth. Agape now stands before
The clan, prepared to proclaim aloud: “Our matriarch is no more!
Now flesh and bone, no longer flow, but guided will be this foal
Who carries her essence anew!” And then she twists back from vision’s dream.
Now lifting the child close, the Shamaness whisper’s a scheme.
“Fear not, mistress, your host guided shall be in ways of the ole’
Tribe mothers of our clan! To whom we pay respects and our toll!”
X.
In eagerness’s grip, the Chieftain lifts from his throne of bone
And hails to his warriors, his trusted warband, with a call
To arms: “Prepare your spear-throwers, your Raven wings and stand tall
Alongside your brethren as we rejoice! For it’s time for us to hone
Our skills of combat, our skills of war!” A yell now spread across
The chieftain’s hall. The feathered raven helm he donned with a toss,
Then took his seat again. As commotion spread, his child would moan
And cry, and the weakened chiefess would her husband’s choice bemoan.
XI.
“The struggles of our peoples remain as they fail to make ends meet,
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Our sacred babe still younger than the twelve moons that lead us,
And yet thou call’st upon thy Balthazaran rage and not discuss
With me this foolish plan of grandeur! To hast the world at thy feet?
Heed the horn’s call, my Ydith’s gift.” The chiefess shook in displeasure
And disagreement “Listen to my wisdom at length and at leisure:
The Tribe Mothers who come before me all stir and retreat,
Now I too am stirred!” Then she shook once more in partial defeat.
XII.
Chieftain Audar now grants himself a moment of suspense
As he gazes down upon his raven-feathered helm now held
In his hands. His gaze then catches his wife, and lastly compelled
To glance at his child, before he’d too foretell the coming events:
“Though our gift of Ydith’s is still young, our army must convoke
And thus, make ready for the time when our child is grown to invoke
Her right to lead. To that end our Tribe Mothers stir without pretence!
The stir which you have felt; The call to our destiny’s defence.”
XIII.
The chiefess scoffed, gave her chief a scornful gaze that pierced through
His very essence, then looked aside with absent eyes removed
From the world that surrounded them. Her yearning breath disapproved
With the storm foretold: “Thou only gazest at thy point of view,
To thy pride! Never giving a single thought upon the flow’s touch!
Thou’st failed to tend to thy gift, my heart, as each moon’s passage I’m begrudged
To give. Let Ríona enjoy her youth without the need to brew
More pain in this world.” She hoped her words would finally cut through.
XIV.
“And if that my final wish should be in this forlorn Outerworld,
So be it!” The chiefess exclaimed as Audar stepped close,
Attempting to embrace his wife. He’d noticed her throes
Of pain and weakness that would gnaw at her as she twisted and turned
In her feeble slumber. Despite her affliction, she’d push her love away
“And only now thou would’st tend to me when I express my dismay?”
A downpour of tears would stream down her cheeks, as her soul unfurled
Before her husband, but still was heedful of what could go unheard.
XV.
Chiefess Eleanore now approached the cradle in which the child
Was fast asleep. She caressed her daughter’s dark golden hair
And collected her head. Clutching the babe close to her fair
Skin that now gleamed in the moonlight; the clouds dispersed in a wild
Flurry of breezing winds. She made her way towards the egress
But before her exit from their quarters, she looked at Audar, caressed
His cheek and spoke her final thoughts “Don’t follow and don’t be riled
Up if I am late to bed. Thou should’st ponder, perchance reconcile…”
