Chapter Text
"Under Astra's command may the foreseer deliver His will for that is his fate."
-Philos: Tome of the Foreseer
I stumbled through the snowy plain, my breath creating puffs of vapor in front of me. My body ached. The icy chill and the physical exertion were taking a toll on me. My horse had run away a couple of days ago, so I'd had to hold my own provisions and walk the entire way. I hadn't anticipated the trip to take so long so my provisions were getting frighteningly low. And my side. It had been acting up, I fear that my illness was spreading, being fed by the cold.
I felt like crying. They were right, this was a fool's errand. Maybe all I'd accomplished here was to hasten my own undoing.
That's when I saw it. It was so close, but it had blended into the blinding white surroundings. A spire. The Tower of thorns.
It was ancient looking, built of rock. I doubted it would be standing, except for the fact that the whole thing was reinforced with ice. And it was more of a fortress than a tower, though it's spires were quite tall. And though I knew it would be old, I didn't expect the place to look desolate. It didn't look as if anybody had been here in years.
I first tried to get inside using what looked to be the main entryway, a large iron gate, but for all intents and purposes, it was useless. It had probably rusted shut hundreds of years ago. When that didn't work I decided to walk around the circumference of the building, surely there was another entrance somewhere. Ten minutes later I found a small wooden door. The woods was so rotted that it fell apart when I pulled on it, leaving a splintering hole in its wake.
I took a deep breathe. This was it. This is where my fate will be decided.
I cautiously slunk through the hole, attempting not to snag my knapsack on my way through. It was dark and dry in here. It took a little while for my eyes to adjust after staring at the white ice and snow for weeks.
I stood in a corridor of stone, though icicles seemed to have formed on the ceiling and the walls were coated in a layer of frost.
I continued walking through the corridor, as my eyes adjusted. It wasn't as dark as I'd originally thought as the walls were dotted every so often with windows. It was a maze of rooms and hallways. I walked for what seemed like an hour and I didn't come across anything. Not a single living creature. I wondered if the myth was false. Maybe the Foreseer had never existed, maybe it was just some fantastical story the people of Philos had made up. This journey had been for nothing.
Just as I was about to slump down and cry, I caught sight of an ornate set of doors. The hopelessness was replaced with curiosity. I put my hand on the door handle and tugged.
My breath wooshed out of me. I stood in a large room, far different than the rest of the fortress. It was made more of ice than stone. Ice beams ran across the high ceiling. A pain of ice took place of a window. A throne of ice at the farside of the room ensconced in brambles. A person.
It was a man, sitting among the ice and brambles. I walked farther onto the room to get a better look. He didn't look... old. It was a young man with feathery dark hair, pale skin, and full lips. His eyes were closed as if he were asleep, as he was poised regally on the throne. He wore a navy robe with ornate embroidery depicting ice, and held a sceptor in his hand... my salvation. He looked like a king.
I bowed to him, "I am his majesties envoy sent here to listen to the foreseer's prophecy."
No response.
I stood back up, was he actually asleep?
I crept closer to the throne until I was right next to him. Was he... breathing? How long had he been like this? Was he even alive? He was enwrapped in vines and covered in a thin layer of Ice.
I touched his cheek, it was completely frozen, it felt like ice.
I glanced over at the the scepter. Maybe I didn't even have to trick him. It was so close. I could just reach out and take the Creatio Protocore. My fingertips hovered over it.
A shock went through my body as I my fingers brushed it. I quickly pulled my hand back, inspecting it. No marks.
"How impudent."
I stumbled back, and looked back at the foreseer. He was still stock still, he didn't look as of he'd woken from his little nap.
"Foreseer?" I mumbled curiously. I took another look at Him, "He really is spritely looking, all the books I read described him to be an old man"
I gasped as the brambles about him started to dissinigrate. He opened his eyes and glared.
"It seems that those tomes you've gleaned through have taught you nothing about etiquette."
He looked annoyed, and very much alive.
He glances at my hand, the one that had been shocked, the one I was still holding to myself.
He smirked, "Winter punishes every wrongdoing in due time."
"What if I'm just doing what is necessary in a bad situation." The response seemed weak, even to me.
"But who exactly is in a bad situation." He said with a bitter smile.
I took a closer look at the ice surrounding him, it didn't look like he would be able to get out, "The ice, it's more like crystal. What is it?"
"You have a wild curiosity." His expression darkened, "and a brazen tongue."
"And your tongue is like a loveless embrace." I retorted, reaching out for the Creatio Protocore again. This time it did more than shock me.
My body went flying across the room and landed on the icy ground hard, sliding a couple more feet. I cried out in pain as I clutched at my stomach. The cold seemed to seep into my lungs.
The Foreseer stood up from his throne swiftly. He hadn't been trapped after all, I thought bitterly. "I've played enough of your little games," he said sternly, stepping forward. "You forget yourself, testing the limits of my benevolence." He raised his sceptor menacingly.
"I am his majestie's envoy. You can't kill me." I choked out clutching hopelessly at my stomach.
He shook his head dismally, "An honest death is not a suitable punishment for every pretender."
I scramble to my feet, ready to flee, when I feel a cold creeping sensation in my legs. I look down to find ice holding them in place.
The Foreseer strode up to me, so close that I could touch him if only I reached out my arm. He glared down at me. "Tell me, do you know the fate of theives who sought the Creatio Protocore?"
The ice continues to creep up my body until it reaches my throat. My whole body was immobile.
The Foreseer stared at me for a second before turning around and walking away. "Wait!" I called out, panicked, "Where are you going, Forseer! Mmm..." Ice covers my mouth stifling my shouts.
I was alone.
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I was left there til morning, and apparently, I'd managed to fall asleep. My back was aching and my head was pounding. And I was nauseous. To sum it all up, it felt like I had a really really bad hangover. Had the fall last night given me a concussion? I wanted to prod at my head, but then I was quickly reminded that my hands were frozen in place.
Though the Foreseer had made a dramatic exit last night, he was back again. He sat on his throne with a leather bound book in hand. From where I stood, it seemed as if the subject matter might be botanical themed.
"You're still sitting in that damnable chair?" I croaked out through parched lips. "You'd think you'd choose to do something more... lively, after sitting there for hundreds of years."
He continued to turn the crisp pages, unbothered by my interruption. "It's comfortable, you may try it yourself."
"No," I said, "No I think not, since I can't seem to feel my body."
There was no trace of pity as he looked up to survey my face. I must not have been that interesting since he looked back to his book moments later.
He hadn't killed me yet, so I wondered what he planned to do with me. Maybe he wanted to keep me alive for some reason. My stomach grumbled. Or maybe he wanted to kill me from starvation "I havnt ate anything since arriving at the Tower of Thorns. Could I..."
The Foreseer continued to peruse his book, "A human can survive seven days without food," He paused seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion, "Given your stubborn character, you should live for an extra two days."
"You're... you're not going to leave me here for nine days. Are you?" My eyes began to well up. This was so unfair. I didn't deserve this.
Uninterested as always he didn't even look up to watch me cry, "Are those tears of remorse?"
I shuddered as I tried to get myself back in control. I took a shaky breath, "You were right, I'm not his majesty's envoy. I am here to ask a prophecy of my future. Every prophet I consulted said I had three years left to live. But I refuse to believe them."
The Forseer looked up from his book and I stared him in the eye, "I'm telling the truth this time."
The Forseer put down his book, "Indeed, they are delusional."
Hope welled up inside me, despite the circumstances, "Have you scryed my fate?"
He looked at me, with his permanent frown and leaned forward in his throne. I was filled with dread, "To disguise yourself as the King's envoy and sneak into the Tower of Thorns..." He settled back into his seat and picked his book back up, "You certainly have less than three years."
I felt as if the breath had been knocked out of me, "Foreseer, you can't! Mmph!"
He waved his hand and sealed my mouth with ice once again, so that he could resume his reading undisturbed.
The endless silence returned to the throne room.
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Night falls. It's been a day since I've arrived here and already I knew that nothing in this world could warm this demigods frozen heart. He was as cold and stolid as his fortress. He'd kept to his word and been given nothing to eat or drink, and my stomach hurt. Badly. It was taking everything in me not to groan in pain, but I didn't want to give the Foreseer that pleasure.
Though I'd somehow managed to fall asleep yet again, I was woken up by a flash light. Golden words float before me, and behind them stood the Foreseer, book in hand. It seemed to me that he was casting a spell, yet the sceptor wasn't in his hand.
His brows were furrowed, as if he were intently searching for something. He doesn't look happy. Or should I say, he looks more upset than usual.
I cough, trying to get his attention, but he stays focused on the glowing words in front of him.
I cough again, louder this time.
"Do you wish for your mouth to be sealed once more." He raised his eyebrow at me.
I tried not to let him intimidate me, even though I knew his threats weren't idol. The book in his hand looked like the same one from earlier.
"That book, it's about gardening isn't it?" I asked "I grew up helping my mother care for her own garden."
He sighed, "Your mouth is only capable of spouting nonsense." He raised his hand as if to seal my mouth once more, he clearly thought I was being dishonest.
"I'm not lying!" I said quickly, "I have quite a knack for it. Mother said I had a green thumb."
The Foreseer stops what he's doing boring holes in my eyes with the sharpness of his gaze. Trying to gouge the truth from my head. I felt myself shrivel up under his scrutiny, maybe I'd gone too far.
"Did I offend you?" I whispered, too afraid to raise my voice.
He looks away. With a lift of his finger, the ice on my body begins to melt.
"I, I don't understand," my knees give out underneath me, as the only thing keeping me upright the past 24 hours had been my ice prison.
"If you desire it, then I shall indulge you." The Foreseer closes the book and the golden letter vanish, plunging the room into pitch darkness.
Once my eyes readjust, the Foreseer has already descended his throne, "Come then."