LIGHTNOVELSTORY Chapter 5: THE PROPHECY OF THE FIRST FALL
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The Prophecy
"Honorable God King, before I make my prediction, I must ask you to understand a crucial truth," Soulis said, taking another deliberate sip of the sweet juice that lingered on his lips, the golden nectar reflecting in the light. His tone was deliberate, his gaze contemplative, as if he were peering into a world beyond mortal comprehension. "Prophecy is not creation, but observation."
The God King, Ouranos, furrowed his brow, uncertainty flashing in his eyes. A ripple of doubt passed through him, but he quickly masked it with the confidence that came from centuries of unquestioned dominion. "What do you mean by that? How can it be just observation?"
Soulis placed the cup down on the stone table before him, his hands steady, his movements graceful yet deliberate. "Fate, as it stands, is an uncertain force. It has a trajectory, yes, but that trajectory is not absolute. It can bend, shift, and change, though rarely fully erased." His voice dropped a little, heavy with a weight of experience that came from knowing more than he should.
The room grew quiet, the weight of his words sinking into the walls of the divine hall, reverberating like distant thunder. The gods gathered there seemed to lean forward in subtle curiosity. Ouranos, though, was not one to show weakness. His fiery gaze locked on Soulis, undeterred. "And what of the future? If I were to glimpse it, would I not bend it to my will?" The God King's voice rang with arrogance, as if the very thought of destiny not being under his control was a foreign concept to him.
Soulis's gaze, sharp and unblinking, met Ouranos's with a certain finality. "The future is a force bound to no single hand," he said. "But by observing it, you don't merely witness fate. You become a part of it. The moment you look upon destiny, destiny begins to look back at you." He paused, allowing the full impact of those words to settle in the air.
The God King's expression twisted in thought, confusion knitting his brow. "So, you're saying that by knowing the future, I cannot change it?"
Soulis's eyes, dark with the burden of what he had seen, met Ouranos's gaze. "Correct. In seeking to glimpse the future, you bind yourself to it. The prophecy may delay the inevitable or alter its form, but it cannot prevent the outcome. To see the future is to have it shaped by your will, but it remains a force you cannot fully control."
The tension in the room thickened, and a profound silence fell upon the gathering. Even the divine winds, which normally whispered through the hall like a chorus of forgotten gods, seemed to hush. The God King remained unmoving, his regal stature unshaken by the magnitude of the truth before him. However, beneath his calm exterior, a faint flicker of unease played in his eyes, betraying his resolve.
"Are you certain of this?" Ouranos asked, his voice softer now, yet still filled with unyielding power. His divine aura swirled around him like a cloak, vibrant and resplendent.
Soulis nodded, the weight of his knowledge pressing down on him. "I am certain. The moment you try to change destiny with your mind, you become entwined in it. You will find that fate is an echo of your will, but one that you cannot silence."
The room held its breath. Ouranos, however, was not so easily swayed. His confidence was his fortress, and he had ruled as the Father of All for eons. He turned to the gods around him—Oceanus, Gaia, Hyperion—and nodded solemnly. Then, his eyes locked back onto Soulis with the same indomitable spirit that had once shaped the cosmos.
"So, you still wish for me to make this prophecy?" Soulis asked, his tone almost wistful, as though he had foreseen this very moment. He already knew the answer, but the words still held a weight he could not dismiss.
The God King's eyes glinted with divine fervor, his voice firm and commanding. "I believe in my own strength. I, the first God King, am not afraid of destiny. I can bend it to my will." A smile tugged at his lips, the arrogance of a god who had lived countless lifetimes. "Make the prophecy, Soulis. Whatever the outcome, I will grant you one boon, a promise that is not excessive."
Soulis chuckled softly, though the sound held no mirth. The arrogance of a god in his prime was a familiar thing to him—one he had witnessed many times before. "Very well," Soulis replied, his voice heavy with knowing. "But understand this: What I will say cannot be unspoken. Once the prophecy is uttered, the threads of fate are woven with intent."
With a deep breath, Soulis closed his eyes, and a strange, silvery light began to flicker in his pupils. A power beyond mortal comprehension surged around him. The room itself seemed to pulse with the vibrations of destiny, as though the air itself had thickened in anticipation. A hush fell over the hall. Even the gods held their breath, as if waiting for the truth of what was to come.
As Soulis reached into the very fabric of the universe, he felt the pulse of fate. It was stronger than he expected, yet still elusive. The strands of the future flickered before him, shifting and twisting like an uncoiling serpent. But in the moment of prophecy, something unexpected happened—the threads of Ouranos's future resisted his gaze, twisting and bending, too tangled for him to grasp.
Soulis's brow furrowed, and for a moment, he seemed lost in the swirling tides of destiny. He reached deeper, his will unyielding, until at last, the prophecy began to take shape, not through his eyes, but through the very bones of the earth itself. His voice resonated across the divine hall with the power of the future itself.
"The Father of All shall face his end,
Not by sword, but by time's cruel bend.
Though mighty now, your reign shall fall,
And the throne you sit upon will no longer call."
The words rang out with eerie finality, and as they reverberated through the hall, the divine gods shifted uneasily, their faces clouded with apprehension. Oceanus's jaw tightened, his fists clenching, but he said nothing. His gaze was fixed firmly on his father, unsure of how to react.
Soulis's voice deepened, and he continued, his prophecy gaining strength with each word.
"Your blood, your seed, will rise against,
And in their hands, your power spent.
From your own flesh, a force will rise,
To cast you down beneath the skies."
A ripple of tension spread across the room. Gaia's face grew pale, her eyes wide with concern. The prophecy was growing clearer, its meaning unfolding like a flower in bloom, and it did not bode well for Ouranos.
"The heavens you shaped, the earth you claimed,
Will soon be undone, your glory shamed.
For one of your own, with cunning and might,
Shall take the throne and set things right."
Soulis's eyes gleamed with quiet confidence. His voice rang with certainty, echoing against the divine walls. There was no turning back now.
"In the halls where you once stood proud,
A shadow will rise, both fierce and loud.
The day will come when you are no more,
And time itself will settle the score."
A long silence followed as the last echo of Soulis's words faded. The hall remained still, the weight of his prophecy hanging heavy in the air. Even the gods seemed to hold their breath. Their eyes, once filled with pride, now betrayed a flicker of unease, for the future Soulis had described was uncertain, but it was undeniably close.
The God King, unmoved by the prophecy's weight, stood with his regal aura still shining brightly, but the subtle unease in his eyes did not escape Soulis's notice. "Is that all?" Ouranos's voice was tinged with suspicion. He had ruled for so long that the mere suggestion of his downfall, even by prophecy, was a bitter pill.
Soulis's eyes gleamed with quiet resolve. "No. The one who will challenge your throne will not be your eldest child," he said cryptically, casting a shadow of mystery over the room. "Another one of your kin will aid the uprising."
A gasp rippled through the hall. Eyes flicked to one another, searching for meaning in Soulis's words. Oceanus narrowed his eyes, suspicion flaring in them. Gaia, ever the thoughtful matron, furrowed her brow in concern.
"Wise prophet," Gaia said gently, her voice carrying a tone of worry. "Can you offer any more clarity? Your words will sow discord among us, and that is not your wish, is it?"
Soulis sighed softly, the weight of his role pressing heavily upon him. "I wish for nothing, Gaia. I simply observe."
His voice hardened as he addressed her final plea. "I cannot offer further guidance. Not now. The truth of fate is ever-changing, and it is not for me to interpret. Perhaps you would find more clarity under the Night."
With that, the prophecy was sealed. The gods stood in stunned silence, each of them pondering the implications of the words spoken, and the path that now lay ahead—an uncertain road, one that no god, no matter how mighty, could ever hope to fully control.