Get tangled and lost in a book!
You'll get out... eventually.
You'll get out... eventually.
Note: Old stories may not be continued, at least for a period of time
Prologue (Which You Must NOT Skip, But Certain People Do): In Which A Prophecy Is Spoken
The sock puppet hadn’t spoken in centuries. Ever since it predicted the Kingdom War, it was like it lost its magical powers. It just sat there on the glass table, unmoving in the middle of the ancient temple on the Crumbling Frozen Peak, less like a magical prophetic sock* and more like a piece of old cloth with googly eyes. But the leader of the Silver Snake Kingdom, every sixth month, would make the journey to see it, hoping that it may someday provide the important prophecies it did long ago. But as years went by, it never did, and the sock puppet became like a legend, the journey made simply for the sake of tradition.
On a cold night in the month Nove’s Ember**, Chief Frost made the journey from Frigid Glacier to Frozen Peak with a group of five able men. It was a harsh territory between the two cold places, with snowstorms and rocky terrain. But by midnight, Chief Frost had made it to the temple. The men stayed outside while the chief ventured into the temple. He had been there before, but it always unnerved him how old and dark the temple was inside. Everything was old and dusty, with faded paintings of people on the walls. Flickering snow orbs provided an eerie light as he ascended up the rickety glass staircase. All was quiet as Chief Frost approached the sock puppet, and he could hear his heartbeat echoing throughout the room.
The chief slowly bent in a kneeling position in front of the sock. He could feel the googly eyes on him as he closed his eyes. He sat in that formation for a few seconds, cracked one eye open, then the other. Nothing. No prophecy, no booming voice. The sock puppet just rested on the table with a dumb expression on its face. The chief got up slowly and sighed. How the ancients thought it was all-knowing, he didn’t know.
He was turning around to leave when he heard a faint humming in the distance. It was really faint, but with the quietness of his surroundings, it could be heard. Chief Frost turned around. Nothing had changed, the sock puppet was still there. He sighed. Must be imagining things. He turned back around, and as he was about to take a step, an invisible force pushed him away, and he landed face first on the ground. The chief gasped and rolled on his back, eyeing the sock. The sock didn’t move, but the chief could see small lights on the wall behind it. The lights moved around, bunching up to form words. The chief’s heart was pounding loudly as he read the inscription.
On winter solstice, three children you will have. One will try, one will die, and one is already dead.
The chief, scared out of his wits, hurriedly ran away, not looking back at the words as he ran away, out of the temple. Therefore, he didn’t see the sock puppet as it winked once, then vanished.
* I am probably the first to have a magical prophetic sock in a story. It might seem rather silly, but I assure you, this sock may be much more important to the story than any other character.
**Yes, they have different month names, but can you really not tell what it’s supposed to be?
Kaylee C. (Cow Chron. and TSC)
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