Botsa ze Cha, Redan Exilic-Bane.

Red eyes flash open, the body of the adult black rising as swiftly as his blade.  Though the aged voice seems to resound within him, he sees naught but the strangely silent forest. He shifts his russet gaze left, then right, but he hears nothing further and smells nothing still.

"I am Redan Bane alone. Show yourself, I am named."

Lower your blade, son of two Lines. I have declared peace.

The black's movement ceases, his senses are determined to be futile. The blade, dagger-straight from a tail arched over his head, is not. 

"Do you know me?"

I knew your parents, and your father's parents before him.

"What do you want?"

Trust in me, fourth child of the crossing, I know far more than you could imagine.

Redan hesitates, casting a final glance about the forest that surrounded him. A shadow passes across glowing eyes: an afterthought, or perhaps a memory. He lowers his blade with a twitch.

"I will do you no harm, unseen Elder."

I prefer Sake.

The black Korat cannot help but take a step back as the mists of the Lavanian night begin to condense before him. Air weaves about itself and takes shape and color, the intricate patterns of a living braid arching about themselves to form cylindrical fingers, then arms, before stretching and breaking apart to make a hollow torso and lower limbs. A canine head pulls itself from the tangled weave, newly formed ears flicking up and back as the knotted eyelids lift to reveal glowing suns where eyes might have been. The glow of the gaze spreads across the spirit-weave, and the rough cords smooth over into visualized flesh and fur. The spirit of the Seer stands as she once had.

Redan slumps backwards into his haunches, deep in a bow before the ethereal Wolven woman can ask for such.

Rise child, I have much to tell you and little time.

The black hesitantly complies, forcing himself to gaze upon the tiny stars that watched him.

Pay close attention child, this is essential to your understanding.

One glowing hand reaches out to touch the place between Redan's eyes. Lids flicker, then shut, and the black feels himself falling though he knows his feet to be upon the ground. There is a rush of sounds, but then  vibrant visions of his young adulthood, adolescence, and childhood override his physical surroundings. Then he is once again within his mother's womb and feels her warmth, her protection -- her heartbeat. Nevertheless, his vision is beyond his unborn body, and he watches as the ebony furred Ayrist walks into a warm den --  she approaches Sake, and the phantom is still alive, though Redan feels the ache in her ancient bones.

Time seems to spin forward and Redan does not hear the words passed between them. Still, he somehow knows there is a war going on and that his mother requires the Seer's assistance. Sake tells her of weapons, and of the enemy, but then the internal clock slows and the Seer is speaking, her withered hand-paw grasping at cushion she is settled upon, her upperlip curling back in the agony of holding onto a life that has already begun to slip from her form.

"Listen well, black beauty. Times as they have been are failing. Terole will be changed by this war. If she survives, a new order will be established. Even now, things fail. Devan trains an apprentice. Gutadrae arrives. Akartis continues his mother's Line through you. I will soon be replaced."

The Wolven grips her knees tightly, dull black claws digging into weathered fur and hide. But this last bit of information is the most important of all. Redan hears her thoughts as she prays to the Light, her desperation to hold on just a little while longer.

"Ayrist, my child. You carry within you four cubs. They are the union of two great powers - Ana and Redwood. You could have no stronger force together. Raise them well... for you and Akartis... may be Terole's last hope..."

The Wolven sways, eyes tightly shut, but continues speaking. Her voice seems to fade a little as she continues to speak of Redwood, and becomes too distant to hear as she completes the telling of the prophecy. The ancient librarian swoons, and lets herself fall into the warm blackness of the next world.

Redan returns to his adult body as the Wolven leaves hers, his gaze widening to behold the Seer standing before him, her eyes of suns immediately holding his. He is aware that his ears have slicked back against his skull, but he does not bother to lift them.

"We have failed your prophesy Sake. Terole is lost."

I did not say you would save it then, nor did I say we would win that war. I did say your family was the planet's last hope, and you are.

"Sake, honored Elder..." Redan pauses, feeling foolish in explaining what the spirit most likely already knew, "We cannot save Terole. Consider us. Shula blind, Yoshi blindly following him, and Tasiri... Tasiri nigh tempting the Creators with her actions."

They learn to walk new paths, and will only become stronger for the lessons found. It is the paths of the past that are of consequence, for they have lain your foundation. Shula has garnered respect, Yoshi compassion, and Tasiri fear. Their names are yours, and you must use what their names have become to your purpose.

The red eyes blink, and flattened ears perk, "I listen Elder,  but I do not understand."

Sound the cry, and they will come. You are son of Akartis, who is son of Redwood. The blood of Ana flows in your veins. Your siblings have established themselves, and your greatness is to follow.

"Sake, I don't..."

Sound the cry, and they will come. Farewell Redan.

The face of the spirit is gone and flesh and fur become a cord which unwinds into nothing. A moment later and Redan stares only into an empty forest.

His heart restarts itself with the calls of the birds.

-Sound the Cry-