Once again he awoke from his dream, barely aware of where he was.
In front of me is a bright spot of light embedded in a huge glass sphere. They chase each other like fireflies in the dark room. Two interlaced metal rings are set outside the glass, and a large number of light spots gather on the smooth inner wall of the rings. The room was not quiet, but it was certainly not noisy, but all sounds seemed far away, as if separated by a thick wall.
"Larsen." The saint turned his back to him. There is a long chain pocket watch hanging on the rocking chair. Its strap is woven from cat whiskers. It is a gift from Helen to her mentor. Its lid is now closed. "Come out and read your dream. Here are your notes."
Larsen paused for a moment, feeling the need to sort out his memory. However, as expected, the dream was blank, and he couldn't even remember when he had the dream. The prophet called it a protective measure, but he still missed the days when he was entangled in intermittent and intricate dreams before he became a void. I am an astrologer, and confusion and ignorance are my biggest enemy.
Larson opened the viewing globe and found the pen he usually tucked behind his ear in his pocket. It seems that I went in on my own initiative and was prepared in advance. But what disappointed him was that he couldn't even think of any relevant clues.
The two intertwined rings slowly closed together, and the glass returned to its hardness like ice on the water. Once, Larson stood up too quickly and bumped into the hard glass. But that was because he still remembered what he saw in his dream. At this moment, Larson's fire has cut off all ties with destiny in order to keep his consciousness intact. Only the mapping magic text at the bottom of the observation deck still maintains its brightness, faithfully recording the information he forgot. Its outline is like an eye, with cold, dark eyes shooting out of its pupils.
That is a mysterious totem. No one in the world knows it better than he does. That's the Eye of Iron. I create perfect magic with my own hands. But frankly, Larson didn't like it.
"Have you caught your breath?" The instructor turned his head from the rocking chair, observed his condition, and then looked away calmly. That means there's not much wrong with him. The Tower Seer's diagnosis remained unquestioned for millennia. "A very grand dream, but now it will only make you a little nervous. I suggest you go to the training ground and run two laps, and preferably do a few sets of push-ups."
"Please don't joke around now, teacher." Larson was unmoved.
"I hope these words will make you relax. I don't really want you to go running. You are almost turning into Dean in the astronomy room. I will let him sit opposite you at the next meeting."
"I think he got what he asked for." Opposite Larsen was the White Envoy, who was also the tower's foreign minister. The leader has the trust of his mentor, and it is almost impossible for Dean Rubin, the Blue Envoy, to replace him. "What is this? My dream?" Larson turned around and was startled by the image made up of light spots.
The magic projection breaks away from the observation ball and flows between the constantly rotating metal rings. Even the great astrologer of the Sky Realm cannot completely control his own consciousness. Most of the dreams received by the "Eye of Ain" are bizarre, and sometimes challenge the viewer's ability to understand abstract styles... In short, there are few of them like this. Clear meaning.
The picture is indeed quite grand, but the scope for inferring its connotation is extremely narrow. Larsen saw a long river between forests from a high-altitude perspective. The forest plains extended with the waterway and gradually converged into the deep valleys. The majestic scenery came into view, but his fire felt a faint tingling. This feeling did not come from the observation ball. He understood that it was my memory that was touched.
"Ao no Mori." The saint speculated on the real scene corresponding to the scenery in the dream. "I thought it would be a supplement to the Red Prophecy. It seems that the development of fate will always be a little weird."
"Going down," Larsen said nervously.
The perspective falls from a high altitude and plunges into the river. The changing colors become the mainstream of the dream, until they are completely submerged by the water waves. The waves were rushing toward him, and Larson couldn't help but tilt his head back slightly. The light spots passed through their bodies silently, and were pulled back under the confinement of magic. The eyes inside the glass were still staring at him coldly.
The starlight reorganizes into schools of fish and impurities, and the perspective drifts along with them. Gradually, the picture became empty, and the color of the light spots changed again.
The Red Prophecy, Larsen thought, was not beyond his mentor’s expectations. As for himself, he couldn't decide when to dream, let alone what to dream about.
"There is no broken moon and star reflection." The prophet told him, "Your dream is in the Blue Forest. Of course, people don't call it that now. Shimmering Forest, right?"
"It depends on Saint Valorin's wishes." Larson believes that the name is not the focus that needs to be paid attention to. He concentrated on trying to decipher the components of the prophetic dream. "There's a body."
Blood began to float in the water. The rapids roared and the earth spun. Larson could imagine the situation in his dream. He must have been shaking all over and struggling desperately, not knowing why he fell into the water. Confusion and ignorance are the astrologer's biggest enemy... Next, the river bank suddenly opened up and the water flow became gentle. The rapids are over.
Through the bright red curtain of water, he saw tens of thousands of corpses. They were floating in the water, disfigured beyond recognition, their hands and feet swollen. The human remains passed him silently, sliding along the waves toward the dark water behind him.
"The river in the Cangzhi Forest is the Silver River, but this river is not the Silver River." The saint concluded, "This is not the Cangzhi Forest either."
"The Red Prophecy." Larson replied, "He's at Eastman." He had never been willing to admit that the perspective in the dream belonged to him.
"There is indeed a shimmering forest in Eastman." The prophet confirmed his speculation. "Keep watching."
Larsen didn't know what the dreamer was thinking about because of the drifting corpse. But he must be much more organized than I am now. The movement of the perspective gradually accelerated, but he neither traced the end of the river nor explored the source of the corpse. The fish reappeared and he realized that the man in his dream was rising. The light spots that make up the painting disperse and then recombine, forming a pattern that is all too familiar to Larsen.
"Harp Seat." It was reflected on the river.
"And the Broken Moon." The prophet's fingers moved in the air, and the metal ring rotated accordingly. A full silver moon full of cracks hung high in the night sky, but its shadow took root in the blood river. In the bright field of vision, the shadow-covered center of the river seemed to have become empty, turning into a bottomless dark vortex. The tone of the whole picture is depressing and deep, full of despair and contagion. "It seems that the Broken Moon not only appears in the prophetic dream because of its geographical location, but he itself is a part of the prophecy."
"The divine descending of Broken Moon has been stopped by the Lord Commander." Larsen objected. Could it be that the Glorious Council still refuses to give up? He was suddenly very curious about what kind of divine order the agent had received.
"I don't doubt Bai's achievements. But the coming of Broken Moon did not happen overnight. He must have had a long preparation process before the arrival of the black moon tide. Taking back the projection is just the last step." Saint Demosis asked: " Do you know anything about the White Moon Witch?"
"They are believers of the Broken Moon." All Larsen's knowledge of this knowledge came from Helen, the "Witch of Destiny". How is she doing at Eastman? Have you found Roma? He would rather dream about their condition than the Red Prophecy.
"Disciple of Berti of the Broken Moon," the Sage told him. "The Ice Witch believes in Berti, the goddess of luck. Mortals will always be guided by the multifaceted nature of gods and beliefs. The mysterious media and phenomena are different, but the root of the power is the magic of the moon."
Larsen took note of it. In addition to knowing astrology well, he is accustomed to storing other occult knowledge such as the origin of witches' power and magical literature on paper to avoid disturbing his thinking and thus affecting his contact with destiny. After all, important prophecies are often manifested in the form of dreams. The more he thinks and the more complex his knowledge becomes, the more abstract the dreams become.
However, supplementary knowledge is necessary, and he must use mysterious knowledge to interpret dream information. Fortunately, he is not the only one in the astronomy room. The presence of the saint also reflects the value of the Eye of Ain.
"There is a dark shadow next to it," said the prophet.
After staring at the vortex for a long time, Larson could even detect an ominous meaning in it. He suppressed the strange feeling and carefully distinguished the outline of the light spot. "It's those bodies. We may have found the end of the drift of remains."
The instructor agreed with his guess. "The Broken Moon can only sacrifice dead objects. He is constantly accepting magic sacrifices to prepare for the next Black Moon Tide. The way the White Envoy stops him is to send part of his projection out of Kamaria, according to Bell Di’s authority speculates that he is likely to create interlocking clues by manipulating probability to attract the projection back to the Moon Capital."
"Sounds like a big project." The moon's projection is that of werewolves, a mysterious race that has suffered from madness since being banished by the moon elves. The werewolf sacrifice that replaced the water fairy Kamaria escaped from the Holy White City, but even if the Council of Light finds him now, it is impossible for the Broken Moon to come - the projection of the Moon City needs to accumulate magic power, and they still have to wait. For nearly a thousand years.
The Saint does not think so: "The Broken Moon is in charge of good luck. From a theological point of view, the White Moon Witches have diluted the faith authority of Otto, the god of fate. Even if they fail, the Broken Moon is equivalent to the promise of fate." Well, He can easily guide the probabilities and turn development in his favor."
“I will include the Broken Moon as a mysterious phenomenon in the observatory’s monitoring program,” Larsen wrote.
Most of Broken Moon's targets are dead people in the river, and there is no limit to this. After all, both the Golden Bird River and the Silver River are hotbeds that nourish life and death. It is impossible for the tower to completely isolate them from life like it did with Abloz. So they went on to observe the dream.
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