“Impossible! You speak in riddles and lies.”

“You decide to doubt me now?”

She paced the massive throne room, her face twisting into a scowl. Dusk was nearly approaching, and the marble chamber was bathed in rays of gold. Beautiful towers spiraled into the sky, creating the glorious view for the room through the crystalline glass. Her whole life stood before her in collections of marble and steel.

Her intricate gown brushed the floor with a whisper, woven out of the finest silk and embroidered with delicate jewels. The throne room could only match its extravagance. Constructed of smooth marble and a high ceiling, it drank up the dying sunlight and glowed with it.

She turned to face the old hag.

“Are you certain what you see is true?” A hint of panic edged her voice, and she found it infuriating.

“I have foreseen countless futures before this one, and you relished them as though they had already occurred. Have I ever told you a lie?”

She pursed her lips, trying to tame her growing frustration.

“How many?” she finally asked, calculating.

“The stars have shown me twelve.”

“Twelve?” she spat, almost with a laugh.

“Yes, twelve blessed ones. Ordained by the deities themselves.”

She contemplated this. Twelve mere pests. One of her men could slaughter fifty of them without wasting a breath.

“Fools,” she chided.

“Foolish enough to become a threat. I would not underestimate them if I were you.”

Continuing to pace the room, she resisted the urge to retreat to her chamber and dig through her personal archives. All the notes she had written through her life, pages and pages that filled up books that filled up shelves that filled up libraries of notes, trying to solve the mystery of why them and not her. How a people so insignificant could be granted with something so extraordinary.

“I must stop them,” she whispered. “Tell me how.”

“I do not see your solutions,” the old woman responded, “I only warn you of what is coming.”

Her scowl deepened. What would they make of a queen who could not keep her kingdom? They would deem her incompetant, more than they already did. A failure. Everything she had sacrificed to get here, everything she had done to build her world, it would all be violently snatched from her hands.

“If I do not find a way to prevent it, they will rip me from my throne! Either these twelve or the others on the Synod will. You know that as of now they will find any reason to. I am trapped in a castle of serpents!”

“That is why it is best you heed what I say. Those serpents are only waiting for their moment to strike.”

She paused, considering her options. “Very well, then,” she hissed. “Tell me.”

The hag began to attend to her vile playthings. Bones of dead cadavers hanging around her neck, swinging around as she fiddled with them. Stones and dusts and her putrid inscenses. Odd trinkets and mixtures scattered along her matted corner of the floor.

“The stars have only shown me the trials that are to unfold, though the victor remains uncertain. My advice to you is that you make preparations, be ready to secure your throne. If you manage to thwart defeat, then those serpents you speak of will drop to their knees at your might.”

She nodded in approval. Preparations…she could certainly do that.

“But you must be warned,” the old vixen added, “Even all the power in the world cannot divert the will of the stars. Whatever is ordained shall occur, and there will be no stopping it.”

The woman gritted her teeth, glaring at her advisor with murder in her eyes.

“We shall see about that…” she snarled.

With a flutter of her skirt, she turned on her heel, leaving the old hag to her wretched trinkets. She molded her face into its typical pompous expression as she made for her throne, trying to mask the burning uncertainties within her.

The woman’s mind already began to work. She had read much about their history, their way of life. She kept spies and tabs on every occurrence and event there. Her notes and knowledge hadn’t been able to solve her desperate questions for endless years, but they could be useful now.

The old woman wanted her to prepare? Fine. But perhaps she could go a step further…

Then she stopped dead in her path, the idea hitting her. Of course, she thought, the plan piecing together in fragments.

“Guard!” she called, raising her chin. She was met with the swift opening of the wide doors at the end of the room, grand and glossy. Spinning around, she watched as one of her soldiers marched in, his eyes cold as he bowed to her.

“Call the Synod,” she ordered, “for a mandatory assembly. Now.”

The man nodded and left with the soft rattling of his armor. He barked a few inaudible words just before the doors swung shut again.

“Eager, are we?” the old woman murmured.

Ignoring her, she stepped up to her seat, perching on it with a rustle of her heavy dress. It was unusually late for the Synod to hold an assembly, but she couldn’t care less. They would answer to her, whether they liked it or not.

Her plan continued to unfold and grow in her mind, an intangible web stretching out in front of her as she wove it.

They wanted to come? Good. She shall let them.

Damn what the stars foretold. If she managed to play this right, stop the visions before they could manifest themselves, then she would be hailed as the rightful queen she was. A queen more powerful than fate. None of those bastards who scorned her would dare plot against her again.

A smile spread across her face, slow and wicked as the doors were opened. The members of her Synod filed in, tall and powerful as they took their places in their alcoves before her. Some bowed, their respect contrasting the barely imperceptible nods from their peers. The woman gritted her teeth, her hand curling into a fist for just a brief moment.

Not for long, she thought with relish.

Their seats lined up near the ends of the room as she looked to each member, holding their gaze.

“Your Majesty,” one of them began. “We have responded to your gathering…request.”

“Order,” she snapped, earning sharp glances from many of her Synod.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” replied another. “We have responded to your order. Now do tell us what you would like to say before the light completely retreats.”

“Before we begin,” she declared, her smile sharp as she lightly stood up, allowing her gown to flare around her, “we are missing one critical person.”

Murmurs floated around as the Synod glanced around, confused at her words.

She turned to the guard at her right, her voice chilling and clear.

“Get me the General.”