by Petra Landon
As his audience contemplated the implications of Sienna’s assertion, the Alpha threw a curveball. “If we go down that road, Faoladh is not the champion either.”
The room straightened and it was Jason who echoed their sentiments. “You’re suggesting the Oracle knew Faoladh?”
“Think about it, LaRue” Raoul postulated. “Faoladh’s always been a larger-than-life presence in Chosen circles. But in those days, he was even more at the forefront. As a Guardian, the Oracle might not hobnob with the foremost Wyr Alpha in the world, but what are the chances the Seer wasn’t familiar with the Shifter working tirelessly to make the Council of Chosen a reality — an institution he foretold would come to pass.”
“The good news is that this is one question we can put to bed soon” he added, as his audience grappled with the gist of his remarks. “Faoladh joins us in the morning.”
CHAPTER 6
Faoladh peels back the curtain
His passenger perused the document silently, as Raoul drove the snaking, deserted road that traversed jutting promontories. Faoladh’s plane had touched down in Corfu at the crack of dawn. And, Raoul had been waiting at the airport with the Seer’s interpretation. Once through the capital, he drove north, past tiny hamlets and villages that slept on, while a fresh day dawned over the island. High up on the headlands, the winding road provided glimpses of secret coves and minuscule inlets below, reminding him of the first trip from the airport to their temporary accommodations.
It was a beautiful morning in Corfu. Down below the promontories, the Ionian Sea shimmered under the dawn sun. But Raoul remained oblivious to the beauty. Instead, he waited with bated breath for Faoladh’s response to the Oracle’s notes.
Eventually, his passenger stashed the document back in its folder to lean back, his eyes on the glinting water below. Raoul waited, checking his rising impatience.
“Doesn’t give away much, does he?” Faoladh remarked.
“No, he doesn’t” Raoul agreed.
“Makes it a tricky business” his companion murmured, his attention on the far away horizon.
Raoul said nothing, shifting gears to take the next hairpin turn.
“Like all Seers, he was a very precise man” Faoladh averred. “When you’re in the business of predicting the future, you cannot afford to be ambiguous. Reputations are built and lost on the basis of a misplaced word or misinterpreted expression. Every word, every minor cryptic term, in the Seer’s description holds significance.”
Relief coursed through the Alpha. He flashed his passenger a look. “You knew him.”
Faoladh wrenched his eyes away, from the flashing promontories and gleaming water, to meet his gaze. “More than that, Raoul. I counted him a friend.”
Raoul did a silent double take. “Sienna reminded us that her mother could not be the custodian he talks of, because the Seer doesn’t name her. By the same token, if you were an acquaintance, the Oracle would not be enigmatic about the champion.”
To the Alpha’s surprise, Faoladh did not respond to the assertion.
“I take it you don’t agree?” he asked.
“Only because of what I know about the past.”
There was a pause as Faoladh gathered his thoughts together, inundated by memories of a moment in Chosen history when a single false step might have everything fall apart.
“This goes back to a time well before the CoC was born, Raoul. In those days, I was a tireless, though unsuccessful, campaigner for the idea of a Council. Strategically, I chose to focus my efforts on the First Ones. The Wizards revere them, and I was confident that if the Ancients bought into the idea, the Guardians would fall in line. Of course, the First Ones were more than willing to meet with me and always gave me the courtesy of an audience, but they remained unconvinced by my arguments. A body with representation from all factions was redundant, they contended. Throughout our illustrious history, Chosen Elders had always interceded to make peace between the factions and urge those flirting with the precipice away from it — like the First Ones stepping in during the Dark Mage’s rampage, to bring about a swift end to her reign of terror and reform Wizard leadership by creating the GCW.”
Raoul was not surprised. The Ancients had not changed their tune in the years since. Faoladh might have convinced them to birth the CoC, but they remained recalcitrant to any proposals to formalize common policies or universal policing of all factions. This is what made persuading them to help thwart Lady Bethesda’s ambitions such a tough endeavor. He also knew that the First Ones were not alone in their attitudes. The Wyrs were not very enthusiastic to the idea of others influencing their code of behavior but tended to give in because they trusted Faoladh to defend the Shifter way of life.
“During one of my trips to meet the First Ones, I was introduced to a Wizard” his companion continued. “As an influential member of the GCW, he’d heard about my efforts and asked me to meet with a protégé of his, a young Guardian who enjoyed modest success in foretelling the future. At first, I ignored his advice — I’d never believed in prophecies and was unconvinced that a Seer could advance my cause in any way. But six months later, I happened to be in San Diego and decided to look him up. The first thing the young Seer said to me was that he’d been waiting for me for a long time.”
Faoladh paused, a grin lighting up his face. “I was taken aback. He said and I quote — I was hoping you’d come sooner than later, so I could tell you that your Council of Chosen is no fantasy. It will come to pass, but you must adjust the game plan. I’ve seen glimpses of the future and l’ll help you refine your strategy.”
Raoul, aware that Faoladh was no believer in Seers or omens, like all Wyrs, couldn’t help but be curious. “You believed him?”
“Not at first” Faoladh ceded without hesitation. “But he knew things about me, insignificant minutiae in most cases, and they were details I’d never shared with anyone, Raoul. Eventually, I had to conclude, however reluctantly, that he’d seen something of the future, though it wasn’t clear what it signified. He was very frank with me. He confessed that he didn’t know what to make of the visions yet and that the flashes continued to come to him, which meant that the future remained in flux for him. But irrespective of that, he was confident that he’d seen a Council in our future.”
“I returned from that first visit, not a believer, but not completely skeptical of Seers in general and Scot in particular. What was clear to me was that I did enjoy his company very much. He was young in years and just starting out, where I had experienced a few lifetimes already. But he was a kindred spirit when it came to our view of the world at large, the challenges that confronted us, the perilous future before us and the path forward for the Chosen. Over the years, we met many times. I’d discuss the concerns of the larger Chosen world and the challenges in pushing the reluctant Magicks, to a model of co-operation and shared prosperity that allowed all factions to march together for a better and more secure future. When he could, he’d nudge me in a particular direction — support my endeavors by sharing hints about future trends from his visions. But he was always upfront with me, and very precise, to the point of obsession. If something was ambiguous to him, he’d steer clear of my questions, no matter how ardently I pursued him. He proclaimed repeatedly that if his clues or interpretation of the visions led me down the wrong path, it might change the future for the worse and he could not have that on his conscience.”
“He helped you convince the Chosen about the Council?” Raoul exclaimed, astounded by what he was being told. It was an established fact that Faoladh had been the lone champion and sole campaigner for the august institution, working tirelessly for years until its culmination. The Oracle had never been credited with more than his abilities as a Seer in correctly predicting the advent of the CoC.
“He played a crucial part” Faoladh confirmed. “But insisted that his name be kept out of it, except as the Seer. You’ll understand why as you learn more about his role in it.”
“In th
ose days, the Council was still a long shot. I kept at it and he encouraged me, giving me hints, when he could, about what he’d seen of the future. But five years after we met, frustrated by the intransigence of the First Ones, I urged him to put on record an official prediction about the Council of Chosen. I’d been working on it for a long time and it was time to try a different approach. By then, I had the Vampires on board and hoped that a prophecy from Scot might bring the Guardians to my side. If the Ancients found themselves the only hold out, they might be more amenable to giving the idea a shot. Plus, Scot and other Guardian supporters of a Council had been warning me for a few years that the isolationist voices in the GCW, advocating for a more muscular approach, were getting louder. I felt that we were running out of time. If the GCW fell to those who believed that the Guardians’ destiny was to police all Chosen, they’d be resistant to a body where all four factions were given equal representation and billing.”
His words nudged Raoul to the question he’d been meaning to ask Faoladh. “You approached the leeches for the Council?” he verified, taken back by it. The Clan had been sidelined before their seat on the CoC. The other factions, with a history of co-existence going back to the first Chosen, had kept the Vampires at arm’s length.
“Yes” Faoladh affirmed.
“Why?” The leeches had always been at the periphery for most Chosen.
“Because Scot told me that, in his vision, the Council had four representatives. The Clan was the natural fourth faction. Until then, I had only pursued the First Ones and kept lines of communication open with the Guardians. When I approached them, the Vampires jumped at the opportunity — a seat at the table would give them the legitimacy they craved. And I had my first Chosen faction advocating for the CoC.”
Raoul blinked. He was beginning to see how incredibly critical the Oracle’s contribution had been, in the undertaking. The Seer had assisted Faoladh to get over the finish line.
He steered the conversation back on course. “The Oracle agreed to your request to officially foretell the Council?”
Faoladh shook his head. “There were still gaps in his perception of the visions. But that was not what held him back. Scot confessed something that came as an absolute shock to me — the CoC was not the end goal of the future his visions showed him, but rather a side note to the events leading up to it.”
A dumbfounded Raoul’s brows drew together. “A side note?” he repeated incredulously.
Faoladh took in his expression. “I was as stunned as you, Raoul. The Council was … is a very big deal — a formal body, with representation from all factions, has never before been instituted in our long history. Until his admission, I’d believed that Scot wasn’t ready to call the prophecy because some of the finer details were not yet apparent to him. Yet, here he was telling me that the visions indicated events of greater import than the CoC. Scot was utterly confident that what he’d seen of the future foretold something of far greater consequence to the Chosen than a Council, significant as it was. He was a man of his convictions and insisted that he could not put on official record an incomplete version of the future.”
“But as the GCW began to fall under the sway of Guardians who would never countenance even the idea of any co-operation with other Chosen, Scot agreed to announce the prophecy foretelling the CoC. In essence, he predicted what he was absolutely sure about from his visions. But I knew that his prophecy was incomplete — he had seen tumultuous times and more significant changes in our future.”
“With his prophecy, the Wizards fell in line” Raoul mused aloud, his eyes on the winding road, even as he assimilated all the revelations about the Council.
“It would take a few years, but Scot’s prophecy played an outsized role in the genesis of the CoC. Soon, the Guardians were arguing about what their representative to the Council should look like, not whether they disagreed, in principle, to a Chosen assembly. After the birth of the CoC, Scot began to gain wider acceptance as the Oracle — a Seer with unparalleled precision in heralding the future.”
Faoladh paused, lost in contemplation of the past and a friend lost too early. “I’ve always believed that, in the end, what compelled Scot to split up his forecast of the future, and announce the CoC as a separate prophecy, was his hope that the Council would temper the madness of the GCW and force the Guardians to step back from the precipitous cliff they were sliding towards. He was a Guardian himself and believed in the GCW. But it wasn’t only internal Guardian politics that drove Scot. He’d been seeing visions about this for most of his adult life. He confided in me once that his first glimpse of the future, the vision that was a harbinger of his abilities as a soothsayer, had been about this. And yet, though he’d made other predictions successfully over the years to cement his reputation, he wasn’t even close to piecing his very first one together. Perhaps, like me, he felt time was running out and that if it came too late, his prophecy might not make any difference.”
“Is anyone else aware of this — that the CoC was the first half of an unfinished prophecy?” Raoul asked. This was a mind-boggling attestation. He’d never heard a hint of it. The Council had been the Oracle’s most significant prophecy to date and if there were whispers attached to it, they’d have reached his ears.
“Esmeralda might know, but no one else” Faoladh said.
Raoul cocked his head, startled by the statement. “Not his wife?”
“Scot didn’t discuss his work with Bethesda. They were husband and wife, but they stood on opposing sides of the political spectrum when it came to the Guardians and the future of Magicks. He would never discuss visions, about the fate of Chosen, with her.”
Raoul ruminated on what had been divulged to him, as the rental car ate up the miles. With a fresh perspective on the CoC and the Oracle’s role in its genesis, he thought he understood what Faoladh was getting at.
“You believe his cryptic interpretation suggests that the Oracle’s last prophecy too was unfinished, like the one that announced the Council” he spelled out. That would explain the ambiguity inherent in the Seer’s documentation of his prophecy. Given his obsession with being precise, the Oracle would never put on record anything about the future he was not certain of.
Faoladh’s eyes flashed to him, a strange expression on his face. “No, Raoul. I think it likely that his last prophecy is Scot’s unfinished one about the Council.”
Utterly gobsmacked, Raoul went speechless. They were winding through a tiny hamlet, with a few cottages by the headlands, and he swerved into a spot to park the car.
For a moment, neither Shifter said anything.
“What does The Prophecy have to do with the Council?” Raoul broke the silence, trying to make sense of it all.
“Nothing on the surface” Faoladh conceded. “But it’s the only prophecy, he made since the CoC, that hints at grave events that affect all Chosen. Over the years, Scot made other predictions that applied to individual Magicks or factions, but nothing that spoke to the larger Chosen diaspora. A few years before The Prophecy, he admitted to me that he was still grappling with the visions. Then, in the thick of the contentious commencement of the Council, I received word that the Oracle had made a prophecy. Naturally, I wondered if he’d finally completed his unfinished augury. But I didn’t get a chance to ask him. He was in the thick of preventing the GCW from imploding, with their contrasting narratives on who should represent the Wizards on the Council. And I was preoccupied with ensuring that the CoC was not rendered toothless, even before its initial session. After, he had his wife’s shenanigans and provocations against the First Wizard to deal with, while I worked to keep the CoC from falling apart in its first year.”
Faoladh looked regretful. “If I’d had any inkling, I would have made the time, no matter what was on my plate. But I didn’t. In a few months, he was gone and in very strange circumstances. I grieved for my friend, and the matter of the unfinished prophecy went onto the back burner.”
He gestured at the folder
with the documentation. “I was hoping he’d left behind a clue for me, something to indicate that this is the conclusion of, what he called, his most important omen of our future. But there’s nothing in here.”
“This is why you’re interested in the Seer’s interpretation?” Raoul asked quietly.
For once, Faoladh was evasive. “One of the reasons. But regardless of whether it is the unfinished prophecy or not, as I said, Scot was a very precise man. The only excuse for the vagueness of his depiction is if the future was still ambiguous in some way to him.”
“Then, why announce the prophe …” Raoul paused as Faoladh’s eyes pinned him. The explanation struck him — something the team had speculated as the reason for the Oracle’s haste in penning down his thoughts before his Chicago jaunt.
“He knew he’d be gone soon” he murmured.
Faoladh grimaced at the remark. “Whatever my personal beliefs, the Chosen have an illustrious tradition of foretelling the future. And in our long history, no Seer has ever seen his own death, Raoul. No one understands why, but the visions do not ever presage a Seer’s end, only that of others.”
As a bemused Raoul met his eyes, Faoladh added a note of caution. “However, keep in mind that this particular prophecy was very unique for its Seer. He might not have seen his own future, but he’d glimpsed flashes of one that affected people he knew — his friends, allies, even loved ones. Scot was an intelligent man with a remarkable ability to decipher and read the trends and clues from his visions — it’s what made him such an extraordinary Seer. If he glimpsed a future where he played no part in events, which under normal circumstances he might be expected to, it would lead Scot to conclude that he would not be in the picture when the episode played out.”
Raoul pounced on the expression that spoke to him of its significance. “What loved one had the Oracle seen in the visions, Faoladh?”
“Not the one you think” his Alpha assured him. “He’d seen Esmeralda.”