Ever since I can remember, my ancestors and I were chosen to bring forth the messages sent from the Gods. We never questioned our destiny, believing that we were chosen for a reason. That perhaps the Gods wanted us for something more.
We were vessels for their power. Delivering their decrees whenever they chose to bless us with their presence. Living each day as it came, giving the Gods thanks for the bounties that they bestowed upon us. They were merciful and kept us safe no matter what came our way.
For years, my people lived in peace, co-existing with the multitudes of races that seemed to spring up out of nowhere. Until the day that they decided that war was in our best interest. It was then that everything changed within the blink of an eye.
Chaos filled our world with every step we took. Lives were soon lost as our enemies came at us in search of a power that was said to move mountains. A power that could bring back the dead and heal the sick with just one touch. One that could merge the elements into one and to be used as a weapon against those that sought to wield it.
While most of my kind believe that such a power does not exist, I know better. I am a witness to the chaos that the Gods have set in motion. They have shown me the things that will come to pass and have decreed that a messiah will be born to save us. While this fact may sometimes seem mind-boggling to me, I know that what they say is true.
I anxiously await this day, but I am also apprehensive. To burden a child with such a task is daunting. I sometimes wonder if she’ll succeed. Mind you, she has yet to be born. But still, one can’t help but wonder. I pray that the Gods know what they’re doing. For if they do not, then all hope is lost!