Criminal

It wasn't hard to locate Corinth in the library, she had created a bunker of books around her. Piles among piles scattered around her and she hasn't even been in her for more than an hour.

"Um... Corinth?" I called gently.

"Hmm?" Her voice came form the center of mass of literature. Her head peaked over top. "Oh, what do you want?"

"Well, some lady spotted our conjoined marks and shouted Sääst Paar at us..." I informed her. "I wondered if you knew anything about that." The part of her head that had been visible disappeared and the rustling of scrolls reached my ears.

"Ah! Here it is!" Her muffled voice exclaimed. She shoved over a pillar of books and scrolls, nearly taking out Idril in the process. She gingerly stepped over the mess of literature she had created on the floor and approached us,

"It's old and mostly faded but still, but barely, readable." She blew some of the dust off of the torn, and yellowed scroll.

"What is it?" Idril asked through sneezes. She fanned her face, trying to keep the dust from further irritating her nose.

"It's an old myth from three kings ago."

"Three kings?" I gasped.

"That's eons ago." Irdil gasped. "My father has already been in power for three thousand years. And he's still considered a new king!" She mumbled, trying to process how long ago the scroll was written.

"We keep extremely good care of our scrolls." I mused. "Especially in such a small town..."

"Well it was Lleoranth, the prophet's home town. She wanted her prophecies to be kept safe in the very town she was given life." The innkeeper materialized from the darkness. "We are proud to have them kept here, and naturally keep them in ad good of a condition as we can. We also teach everyone in the village old elvish so we can all read them."

"Oh." Corinth muttered. "Can... You translate it, I'm slightly rusty at old elvish, it isn't that wid,ey used anymore..."

"Of course," she smiled. "I always love telling a good story." Corinth passed her the scroll and we all settled into the nearest chairs.

"This, shall be the last prophecy I ever wish to record. For I am growing weak and the visions are becoming blurry and unimportant, like what the next king will have for his first royal breakfast. They are mostly mundane and uninteresting and I fear this may be the last clear, important prophecy I will be able to write. It may also be one of the most important. It starts in the two thousandth year of a kings rule. He will make an unfortunate choice and have a child, a girl who ultimately lead to his demise. She will run from her home find a boy, also of royal blood. They are the saving pair. Together they will bring peace to the land, they will cleanse Peltumbe of this faux peace born of lies, bribery, and closed borders. They will help monsters, dwarves, humans, and the creatures of the dark world coexist harmoniously. But only if they are prepared for a war of great proportions. Their entangled royalty marks hold great power and are the key to their victory. I know they will read this, and doubt they are part if this vague and quickly paced tale, but they know it's them, deep down. Just as the one knows his feelings toward the woman, yet refuses to believe it because of his best friend. But he's already surrendered to her. He has hardly put up a fight.

I have gotten off track. However, there is no more to tell. They will win and achieve greatness or lose and throw all of Peltumbe into chaos.

Lovers conquer, saving pair." she handed the scroll back to Corinth.

"That was alarmingly precise." Idril muttered.

"What was that last line?" I asked.

"Lovers conquer, saving pair." She said once again. The familiarity of the sentence was unsettling. Where had I heard that before?

"That sounds, poetic," Idril hummed. "What does it sound like in old elvish?"

The innkeeper smiled, and said it for Idril. "Deux amants conquérir, sääst paar. " Idril giggled and the skin on the right side of my body started burning.

"Ah. Ow, make it stop." I whispered, holding my right arm to my chest and rubbing my left hand over it, trying to smother the flames.

"What's wrong?" Idril asked and flew to m side.

"It burns, it burns." I whimpered the flames were growing stronger, hotter. It went from uncomfortable to agonizing in seconds. Idril frowned and grabbed both my hands, pressing them to her lips. I screamed as the flames grew hotter still, my back arched, trying to flee from the heat and I squeezed Idril's hands in mine.

"His mark is red." Corinth gasped.

"It recognized the password to the spell paper, but since he didn't say it the spell paper won't disintegrate. But his mark believes it should and is trying to burn it off." The innkeeper mused.

"The touch of Idril's skin must be fueling its intensity." How could they stand there and do nothing? Help me!

"Say the phrase, Elessar!" Idril shouted at me, tears formed her eyes.

"D-deux amants conquérir, sääst p-Paar." I whispered, barely able to find my voice. The burning halted and a strange pastel purple light illuminated the room.

"It's happening." The innkeeper gasped as Idril and I were lifted off the ground by an invisible force, and were completely engulfed in the light.

What's happening? Have we died?