She hates legends, myths and anything that holds no evidence as to what is true, but is unfortunately stuck in a prophecy of her own. Desperate to find answers, she travels the world and meets different people, all the while learning more about herself.

Seven Teardrops


There were no words. Only movement. Only a sharp blade that pressed, cold as ice, into human flesh. And then an ear-piercing shriek of perplexing pain that wordlessly diminished into a baby's unrelenting screams. Blood became crystal, and at the esoteric sight even the sobs turned into soundless fascination.

The first hours of darkness of the fifteenth century were black. Unbeknownst to most who were awake that evening, there was a slight difference in the air, felt by only the most preeminent of majes. The dark was dimmer, the air was murkier, and the clouds were thicker. Something was going to happen that night.

The atmosphere in the Hall of Avvenire was tense. It was no secret that the world of Eludicia had been falling to decay the last several years. Slowly but surely, wastelands were appearing all over the once magnificent continents, and every maje that belonged to this great hall knew that this realm of majik needed help. No maje said a word, yet all in that great palace knew. If nothing was done, the world would be doomed to ruin, but everyone was just about at the end of their wits.

From a corner of the large room, a shelf began to glow. Everybody's attention was immediately drawn to the luminous ledge filled with books, and murmurs spread throughout the crowd like wildfire.

"What's going on?"

"Is the world finally coming to an end?"

"That's impossible, don't be daft!"

"Not impossible, but unlikely,"

"Oh, shut up,"


All the majes were anxious, some more so than others. Nevertheless, there wasn't a single individual who wasn't feeling the tension.

Just then, a scroll slid out from a crevice between two books and unrolled itself before their eyes. It was blank, but the voice of a young boy rang out, echoing across the spacious hall.

"On the dark hours which follow
the thousand by fifteen preceding,"

Beneath the sky of Eludicia, a silver-haired man held a bundle in his arms. He stood gazing at the stars, looking down at the baby he carried whenever it squirmed. While most newborns would be crying, this child just stared at him, almost with knowing eyes.

The silver-haired male studied the baby girl. Though a tiny presence, she somehow radiated a bold existence; soft, black baby curls prefiguring long onyx tresses; her delicate, paper-thin skin a pale peach complexion. And her eyes.

"You are indeed unique, child," murmured the man. "I may have foretold your birth and your place in the prophecy, but never would I have imagined you to have such special qualities. Silver eyes are a rare sight, and not many majes are born with the power that you possess. Perhaps you really can change this world."

The girl did not seem to have heard, having already drifted into a deep slumber.

The majes watched the floating scroll in awe.

"What is this?" asked a pale woman with deep, amethyst eyes.

"It's one of the Scrolls of Prophecy foretold by the Great Oracle Lys!" rasped the old maje standing next to her.

"A prophecy foreseen by Oracle Lys?" repeated the female maje.

"Yes," replied the old man. "Oracle Lys is the great oracle who, according to ancient scripts and legends, was the one who prophesied many happenings at the very beginning of time; the beginning of our world, Eludicia. So far, he has not been wrong even once."

The woman watched the senior maje with curious eyes. "I've heard about him before, it is said that Oracle Lys is still alive even now. However, despite all the rumours about where you can find him, nobody has ever found where he resides."

The boy's voice continued to sound.

"A maker shall be born into this world.
One and one will greet
and there will be hands that heal.
In ten and seven years
his voice will be heard
and a menace will walk this realm."

As the baby girl slept, the silver-haired oracle watched her

"Your journey has begun, young one. Yours is a long path, and you will encounter difficult times. As you travel, you will find trustworthy friends. Have faith in them and they will guide you."

Everyone in the hall was completely focused on the voice that resonated through their ears.

"Then five more will complete
his aberrant seven-pointed star.
But a tip must fracture
to balance the six
or the earth will mourn.
Teardrop in the Skye."

As the last of the voice faded away and the empty scroll fell to the floor, the majes' eyes danced around the pitch black room, each wondering to their self if this prophesied child could really change this rotting world.

Walking down the narrow streets of Wintermist, a small town in the Air Continent, the man who carried her stopped outside a large, old building. Wrapping the blanket tighter around the small body, he placed her on the doorstep and touched her gently on her forehead, whispering to her as he did so.

"Grow up to be strong and healthy. Let us meet again in seventeen years, Cieli Skye."

A/N: Hey guys, first things first, I came up with the concept of this story back in 2010, and it was my very first story. What I uploaded here is kind of the draft of my revamp of the entire project (Because if you saw what it looked like 4 years ago... it was disaster, I'm not even kidding. I might be biased, but my writing style back then was worse than amateur, haha.). I still don't like some parts of this revamped version, but I'll come back to it again in the future. I just couldn't leave the old version up anymore...

Hope you enjoy what you see so far, and thanks for reading!

*Note: "Maje" and "majik" were intentionally spelled that way.