The Oracle carefully poured the ethereal elixir from the bucket into a beautifully crafted, glistening jug, its surface shimmering with a faint celestial light. She lifted the jug, feeling its weight and the energy it held, and attached it securely to the back of a magnificent white horse. Yala, the loyal white wolf, watched her every move with intense, attentive eyes. Kneeling down to pet Yala, the Oracle's touch was gentle but carried the weight of her emotions. "I've got to go home, girl," she said softly. Her fingers caressed the wolf's fur, conveying a sense of sadness and longing. "You should stay here and look after Yara; he needs you more than I do." She smiled sombrely and leaned down to kiss the wolf's forehead, a silent promise of her return. Mounting onto the back of the white horse, the Oracle looked back at the grand lodge with a mix of determination and fondness. With a gentle nudge, she kicked the horse into action, and it galloped gracefully toward a large shimmering golden portal at the edge of the celestial garden.
As she emerged from the portal, the Oracle found herself in the brisling city of Pandora. Pandora, the capital of Ailon, was a city unlike any other. Nestled within the celestial realm, it exuded an otherworldly charm that captured the essence of heaven itself. Its streets, lined with cobblestones made of ethereal quartz, glistened with a soft, iridescent light that danced like starlight beneath the feet of its angelic inhabitants. The buildings, seemingly woven from strands of moonlight, rose gracefully towards the sky, their walls adorned with intricate patterns that told the stories of the celestial realm's history.
The city was a fusion of rural simplicity and futuristic elegance. Celestial gardens and lush meadows with tall, luminous grasses flourished throughout Pandora. These gardens seemed to possess a consciousness, responding to the presence of lothrans with a gentle sway and a symphony of celestial chimes. The flowers that adorned the city were of a fantastical nature, ranging from delicate, star-shaped blossoms that changed colors with each passing cosmic day to towering, translucent stalks that seemed to capture the essence of light itself. These celestial plants tapped into the boundless energy of the celestial realm, radiating their enchantment to all who passed by.
Lothrans went about their daily lives with an air of serenity and purpose. Some tended to celestial fountains that shimmered with an inner light, their waters reflecting the depths of the universe. Others were engaged in crafting ethereal art, weaving intricate patterns from threads spun by celestial weavers. Celestial creatures roamed freely through the streets, their radiant forms blending harmoniously with the city's luminous surroundings.
The air in Pandora was filled with the ethereal strains of celestial music, as if the very atmosphere itself resonated with a celestial symphony. The sweet scent of otherworldly blooms filled the breeze, an ever-present reminder of the city's connection to the natural world and the cosmos.
As the Oracle made her way through the city on her white horse, she was met with reverence and admiration. Young lothrans recognized her and shouted excitedly, "It's the Oracle! It's the Oracle!" She acknowledged their enthusiasm with a warm smile, her eyes reflecting the timeless wisdom and compassion that defined her role in Ailon.
The towering castle at the heart of Pandora was a masterpiece of celestial architecture. Its spires reached for the heavens, and its walls bore celestial symbols and patterns that held the secrets of the celestial realm. The castle served as a center of governance, a place of profound knowledge and decision-making for Ailon's celestial inhabitants.
"She's coming, she's coming!" a young lothran sang excitedly as he sprinted past the quaint wooden houses that lined the streets of Pandora. His voice drew the attention of every angel present, their celestial features radiating anticipation. With urgency, the young lothran made his way to an old hut just outside the grand castle. This humble abode served as an infirmary, run by an aged lothran man named Saulste. Breathless and filled with excitement, the young boy burst into the infirmary. "She's here, Saulste. She's here!" he exclaimed, his voice trembling with hope. Ignoring the old man and a few other patients who lay in a state of sickness, he continued to dash to the end of the infirmary, his heart pounding with anticipation. "You listening, Upa?" he said, his voice laced with sorrow as he reached the bedside of his gray-haired, white-skinned grandfather. His small, hand trembled as he placed it in the still, cold hand of his ailing relative. "She'll make you better, like she's meant to do. She'll make you well again," the boy whispered with tears in his eyes, his gaze locked on the aged figure before him. "You listening?" he gently asked, resting his free hand on his grandfather's head. "It's time to wake up, Upa." Just outside the infirmary, Saulste and the Oracle stood in conversation. "Their condition isn't getting any better. I've never seen anything like it," Saulste confessed, his wrinkled brow furrowed with concern. The Oracle, with her pure white skin and ethereal beauty, listened attentively. "It's a rare type of ailment that brings insanity, in some cases incurable madness," he explained in his soothing, melodious voice. "It must be one way of a thing to send these boys into such a catatonic state." Saulste added.
Saulste's gaze then fell upon the young boy at the end of the hall. "Come now, boy," he said, his voice meek but comforting as he called out. "Let's leave the Oracle to her work." The young lothran continued to look down at his grandfather, his cerulean eyes filled with deep worry and fear for the man who had nurtured him. "Now, boy," Saulste repeated, a note of impatience creeping into his tone. At this, the Oracle raised her hand to signal the old man to calm down, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. The Oracle approached the young boy, her steps measured and filled with compassion, her presence radiating both grace and wisdom. Her touch, when she gently placed her hand on his shoulder, was as soft as a celestial breeze, carrying with it an unspoken promise of help and comfort. Her ethereal features, as pure as freshly fallen snow, exuded kindness, and her eyes held a timeless serenity that transcended mortal understanding. "What's your name, my friend?" she asked in a sweet and inviting tone, her voice reminiscent of a soothing melody. Her silvery hair cascaded around her like a silken veil, shimmering like moonlight, as she knelt beside the young boy. The boy, his dishevelled hair and teary blue eyes speaking of his worry and sorrow, sniffled as he struggled to find his voice. "Ch...Chet," he managed to say, his words quivering. The Oracle paused for a moment, her gaze filled with compassion as she looked into Chet's eyes. "And who is he?" she inquired gently, nodding towards the still figure of his elderly grandfather who lay in the infirmary bed. Chet's voice was barely a whisper as he replied, "His...he is my grandfather. I need to stay so he wakes up," his voice tinged with determination, his grip on his grandfather's hand revealing the strength of his resolve. The Oracle, moved by the boy's unwavering commitment, squeezed Chet's arm ever so slightly. Her eyes were pools of empathy and warmth as she leaned in closer to him, her voice a soothing balm to the young boy's fears. "Chet, I promise, I will take care of your grandfather. But I need you to go and rest, so you can be healthy and full of energy when he wakes up. You've been very brave," she assured him.
Chet nodded, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears, and he rushed off to the elder Saulste, who guided him toward the exit with a reassuring smile. "Thank you, Mrs. Oracle," Chet whispered, his gratitude palpable as he left the infirmary. With the boy gone, Saulste approached the Oracle, his face etched with concern, a genuine willingness to assist in his eyes. "Will you be needing me?" he asked, his curiosity and readiness to help evident in his voice. The Oracle, with a sense of determination and compassion that belied her ethereal presence, continued her examination of Chet's grandfather. She gently opened his eyes, revealing the dark void that had engulfed them, erasing their brilliance. Beads of cold sweat glistened on the old man's forehead, and he appeared tormented. The Oracle could feel the depths of his pain and the suffering of the other young patients in the infirmary. "Bring me a bowl full of the elixir from my jug," she instructed Saulste, her voice gentle but resolute, as she continued her meticulous examination of the old man's mouth and temperature. Saulste, the old man, meekly handed the bowl to the Oracle, his frail hands trembling with a subtle shakiness that did not go unnoticed by her ever-observant eyes. The Oracle's heart ached at the sight of the ailment's insidious spread, even affecting those who sought to aid the afflicted. "The maddening effect is spreading to you," she noted, her voice etched with deep concern as she reached out to the old man. With a tender touch, she gestured for him to partake in the celestial elixir she carried with her. "Help yourself to some of my elixir," she instructed, her tone both gentle and resolute, "then make the others drink it." Saulste accepted the Oracle's offer, taking a tentative sip of the glistening purple slime. The elixir was incredibly sweet, and he squinted at the unexpected taste, his old face wrinkling in slight disapproval. The aftertaste lingered, revealing his dissatisfaction. "I know," the Oracle said with a sombre smile, her own understanding of the elixir's unusual flavour. She continued to feed the elixir to Chet's grandfather, her actions filled with a sense of purpose and determination. As the Oracle and Saulste went on to the other young angels, they followed the same process. Each of them received the elixir, their initial reactions mirroring Saulste's distaste. But they trusted in the Oracle and Saulste's guidance, recognizing the importance of the elixir to save them from the encroaching madness. "Tell me again how they caught this?" the Oracle inquired, her voice filled with a sense of urgency and curiosity. She observed as Saulste placed the empty bowl in the sink before he took a seat next to her at a table at the end of the infirmary. "Them?" Saulste responded rhetorically, his gaze distant as he recollected the events. "They headed out with the chief to the lower lands some time ago. Whatever it was they saw, it slaughtered most of our men, left them with some limbs cut off—a sorry sight," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of the memories. Saulste's eyes fell upon the table as he briefly lost himself in the nightmare of what he had witnessed. "Whatever it was caused all of this," he added, gesturing towards the young men who lay hospitalized, their fates entwined with the horrors they had encountered. "The lower lands?" the Oracle inquired, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern. "Aye. The mortals," Saulste replied, confirming the source of their distress. The Oracle contemplated the information briefly, her thoughts racing as she connected the dots. Then, with a sudden burst of determination, the Oracle sprang onto her feet. Saulste, startled by her sudden outburst, looked up at her with a mix of surprise and concern. "I need to speak to my brother," she declared, her resolve evident as she glanced over the patients once more, her mind focused on a course of action. "Need I accompany you?" Saulste asked, a generous offer of support in his voice.
"No need, Saulste. The castle is just next door," the Oracle replied, her hand gently cupping the old man's cheeks in a gesture of affection. "I'll see to the fallen." Saulste nodded sombrely, his gratitude evident as he took the Oracle's hand and pressed a loving kiss to it. "You play nice," he advised. "I always do," the Oracle replied, her tone filled with a mix of reassurance and determination as she prepared to depart, her heart set on finding a solution to the affliction that now plagued her people.