King Kathor was on the palace roof surrounded by his elite bodyguards. They had fought many battles for their king, but they had never seen him like this before. They were uneasy. Ayir was with the king, leaning on his staff, staring at the direction they had come from. The direction the Guardian was coming from.
“Ayir,” the King said. “I have one last order to give. I wish to give it to you.”
“A last order, my king?” Ayir asked.
“Yes, for I am the last king of Skyris. All will perish in the Guardian’s flame. You alone are not gifted with foresight. I too have seen visions in my eyes while I lay upon my bed. I saw a great white dragon, burning, destroying, ruin making. That is what this Dragon is. This Dragon is a Ruinmaker. He is no Guardian. That is why I need you to obey my last order, without fault.”
“What is the order, my King?”
“Take my daughter and my wife and get them out of here. I have no hope for this city, for any who remain here.”
“While I do,” Ayir said quietly. “This world will be changed for the better by what has happened this day. Whether it will come in our lives, or in the far future, I do not know. But my visions do not lie. Eventually good will come of this.”
“So you think you old prophet,” the king groaned. “But I gave up on hope long ago. This is my last day, and my family’s. No one from my line will ever sit upon the throne again. Skyris will burn, and there will be nothing left but the ashes of a once-great nation.”
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