"Sounds good," Lucy said as they arrived back at the temple. He heard delighted laughter from his charge and smiled in spite of himself; he was fond of her. Would he constantly risk his neck to feed her, otherwise?
Astarte laughed and clumsily tried to sing along, mumbling nonsense instead of bothering to learn the actual words to the song.
Meanwhile, in the Temple of Tuonos, the head priest had been praying when he suddenly felt
compelled, almost
possessed by a need to write something down. He feverishly searched for parchment, and when he found it, hastily scribbled out the following:
In a land of pain,
no hope for success,
four to stand for the oppressed.
One whose lineage to him is lost,
from him a light to shine through the dark.
One whose hands take but pay no cost,
from him come plans for a new start.
One who brings hope to the lost,
from him comes strength to bolster the heart.
One who is cast out as dross,
from him comes justice for those fallen apart.
And if you seek the Chosen Four,
a prince, a thief, a priest, and a wh.ore,
Remember what we've told you before,
the foreigners shall rule no more.
Stunned, the man in his forties with graying blond hair shakingly read what he just wrote. Finally, after years of praying to no avail, Tuonos had answered! Here, in his hand, lay proof that they wren't alone in this struggle, for it appeared the gods had chosen four champions to stand against their oppressors! But, wait, there were thousands of thieves and wh*.res, there were no princes, and many priests. How were they to find the Chosen?
~
"That's wonderful! We always need help gathering wood; we're a wood-based society, if you haven't noticed," chuckled Nedakh.