Future Imperfect - Prologue 3

Day of Mourning - Olarune 20, 998 YK - Mid-morning in Flamekeep

"We gather here this morning to remember those lives that were lost four years ago," preached the priest from atop his makeshift pulpit. There weren't many people gathering around him, but it was his duty to speak. "Four years have gone by since Cyre was claimed by the Mists, and we still do not know why. But we do what we can, pray to the Flame that the souls of the departed find refuge and comfort."

The priest paused to take a breath, and heard a dull roar coming from the Cathedral. He turned, and saw a mass of people running down the steep roads that lead to the highest ground in the city. He could not tell what they were running from, but they were panicked.

"Brothers and Sisters. Do not fear, for the Flame protects us here in the city. What harm can come to us here?" he shouted to the first of the evacuating mob. They didn't slow down at all.

The priest stepped down and was quickly swept up in the flow, his body buffeted by the current of bodies. He finally relaxed and moved with the flow, allowing himself to become a part of the rushing mob.

The priest and the mob continued down the streets of Flamekeep, until they reached the edge of the water, and stopped. Some, brave or foolish, began to wade into the water.

"What happened?" asked the priest to one of the panicked members of the milling mob.

"The Flame, the Flame, the Flame," was all that he got in response, as well as an arm pointed at the Cathedral.

The priest looked, and even from the edge of the water, he could see the smoke rising from the Cathedral. It was not much, at least now, but as he watched, it increased, and grew darker. Within a minute the smoke flowed from all the windows and doors of the Cathedral, filling the sky with it's billowing darkness.

"Flame protect us," the priest said to himself.

He could not make the motions of blessing himself before he died.

Two miles away a caravan rider stopped when the bright flash erupted from the direction of Flamekeep. He stopped his wagon and stepped to the ground. As he began to walk past the horses, he fell to the ground, a massive shockwave causing him to fall.

An hour later the teamster crested the final ridge before Flameseep and stopped. Before him he saw only devastation. He fell to the ground, head in his hands, weeping uncontrollably. A minute later he stopped sobbing and stared up into the sky, raising his hands in protest, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Why!?"