That which whispers,
That which turns.
Four paths divide,
Four fates entwine…”
His voice is clear, the words crisp and light as they flow in a gorgeous stream of sound. I commit them to memory.
“One alone shall perish,
Scorching flame unchecked.
Two at odds shall falter,
Drowning tide unquenched.
Three in arms shall fragment,
Piercing wind untrained.
Four as one shall triumph,
Shaking earth unrestrained.”
I cannot tear my eyes away. But through the bond, I feel something strong from Penn. It might be grief. It might be worry. It might be something else entirely. I am afraid to examine it too closely.
“Bound in power,
Blessed in light.
The tetrad ascends,
To banish the blight.
When last the final,
Binds the four.
The balance reborn,
To rule evermore.”
The minstrel warbles into silence. He sweeps into a bow, lute held aloft at his side, and absorbs the shock wave of applause that explodes from everyone in the Great Hall. As the clappingreaches a crescendo, I cannot help myself—I turn to glance at Penn. He is watching me, his expression carefully schooled into an apathetic mask. But the feelings I sense from him are anything but indifferent.
I wonder what he senses from me. Panic, most likely. It was one thing to hear about the prophecy secondhand from Soren. It is quite another to have it performed in full, every fateful syllable ringing out, an inescapable declaration of destiny.
Penn lifts his chin, a gesture I do not quite understand but find oddly comforting all the same. Attempting a weak smile, I shrug back at him.
“Do play something less somber,” Queen Vanora calls sharply to the minstrel, cutting short the applause. “We brought you here to entertain, not to put us to sleep.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
With that, the minstrel launches into a bright, happy tune. The moment passes. But the undercurrent of panic remains pulsing through my veins, pricking at the mark on my chest. And though he sings an altogether different song, the words that loop through my mind are of piercing wind and drowning tides, shaking earth and scorching flame.
Penn and Iwalk back up to the tower together after dinner finally draws to a close. He is quiet as we ascend the stairs, his demeanor so closed off I dare not risk conversation. Only when we reach his chambers does he finally acknowledge my presence.
“I’ll go out on the balcony for a moment,” he says stiffly. “Give you some privacy.”