WHAT IS UP IGNORE THE REST OF THIS BLOG THIS IS TOTALLY THE FIRST POST HERE :)))

eyyy I am back from the dead to post something random then to disappear into obscurity again so take this piece of writing from years ago:

“She’s here, Sire! Behold, in all her power, the Telltale!”

The King, short and unamused, looked over Pythia skeptically. Finally, he laughed, “This is a fortune teller, a prophet. She will only tell me what I have heard already. She is of no use to me.”

The King’s servant looked at his King and then to Pythia and started, “But sir–”

“Sire, If you may,” said Pythia. “I am no ordinary prophet, and I am certainly no fortune teller. Prophets and fortune tellers tell you your fate and your fortune. Your outcome, what is inevitable, what will happen from your actions. I am the Telltale. I can change your future to what you wish. I hold that fate of the world in my hand, sire. You do not want to anger me.”

The King shifted on his throne. “Very well then. I have a problem I need fixing.”

Pythia smiled.

The King rubbed the back of his neck. “I inquired my prophet of what will become of my heritage. I will bear no sons. However, my middle daughter will. She will bear a powerful warrior, one who will betray the royal family and tear down my entire kingdom.”

Pythia looked at the King and asked, “What fate do you desire?”

The King leaned forward. “I do not want this warrior to be born. I want my lineage and my kingdom protected from him.”

Pythia replied, “Of course.”

She held out her hands in front of her, her palms facing the kings. Soon, her eyes and every crease on her palm began to glow.

When she spoke, it was as if a thousand voices whispered to make one. “Protect the Kingdom of Restoral, and protect the King’s lineage.”

She drew a growing circle in the air, put her hand through it, and yelled, “Etnaleda Aicah!”

Then the glows faded away. “It is done. Your fate is sealed.”

The King looked satisfied. “Thank you. How do I pay you?”

Pythia looked at the King with a glint of regret. “You already have.”

At that very moment, the Princesses of Restoral stumbled into the room.

The eldest croaked out, “We don’t feel very well.” And when the last word slipped out of her mouth, she and her two younger sisters simultaneously started to cough up blood, which splattered beautifully onto the white marble floors. Then, they all dropped to the floor.

The King watched in horror as his daughters writhed painfully in pools of their blood, then drew their last breath.

Pythia walked over to the three corpses and sealed their spirits into a jar.

He turned to Pythia, his face flushed red with anger. “You-you monster! You witch!”

Pythia, with a soft voice responded, “You wished for the warrior to not be born. Any of your daughters would have birthed a boy capable of destroying your kingdom.”

The King yelled, “I did not wish for my daughters to be killed!”

Pythia continued, “Your wife is pregnant with another girl. She will become queen and only bear daughters. Eventually, one of those daughters will bear a boy, but he will be no threat to you by then.”

The King looked to his servant who had been watching it all quietly, and screamed, “Get her out! Get her out!”

The servant, quite timidly started to take a step forward, but Pythia turned and began to leave the courtroom. “No need to escort me, I’m on my way out. I have all that I need.”