"He's at it again is he?" asked Aleard, a man in his late fifties, as he joined his old friends around a table at Nubigena's local drinking hole - Mother's Pitcher. "Mother's" for short.
"No surprises," replied Rayer, a friend since childhood, "The old man is being himself. Although I admit he's sounding more ominous than usual."
"What's the matter?" laughed Emerlyn, another childhood friend, "Are you actually paying him attention? With all the trouble this town's been facing recently, the raving rants of a superstitious idiot are the last things I want to bother with. I mean, poor Francis, found dead in a gutter, shot in his chest point blank. Such a promising young nurse, too."
"Agreed," Aleard added quickly, glancing at the pub's entrance as someone walked by.
"Expecting someone?" asked Rayer, taking a sip from his pint glass.
"Oh, no no," he replied after a slight pause, "Just thought I saw someone I knew is all."
Nubigena, its name meaning 'born of a cloud', was an ancient town. There were many accounts of its history, all bearing a similar thread with differing twists, the turn of each era marked by rainfall. It was told as legend that the town was eternal, it's history repeating over and over. But that was all folklore. Besides, the townsfolk had more immediate matters to concern themselves with.
Morbid events were becoming more frequent in Nubigena. It almost seemed that every other night, someone had either been killed or put within an inch of death. At the same time, certain questionable individuals were, out of the blue, suddenly living lives of great affluence. Stock was going missing, deliveries were not being made, and various traders were selling goods well below the prices of their competition. Something was not right. The problems were either too much for the town's law enforcers to handle or they were being given a good reason to look the other way. Yes, Nubigena had seen better days.
The sun was making its final descent over the horizon, though with the overcast it could hardly be seen. Clouds had been gathering throughout the day, brewing what looked to be a fierce storm. With a crash of thunder, the first drops of rain began to fall making loud damp thuds as they hit the pub's roof.
"Hey, it's about time I got myself one of those," Aleard said pointing at his companions beverages.
"No problem, we'll be right here," said Emerlyn as Aleard stood from the table.
As Aleard headed towards the bar, a chilly wind blew through the pub's entrance, making its way to the old man Aleard spoke of. The man, a self-proclaimed soothsayer, referred to himself as Enki the Mystic. As the wind blew against him, Enki paused from his ramblings, pulling his cloak closer around his body, looking around almost maniacally. His gaze fell upon Aleard. Eyes narrowing, he hurried over to him. Before Aleard knew it, Enki was in his face, eyes staring deep into his own, piercing.
"Tonight! Yes, I saw it! As has always been seen in all times past! Tonight, it all ends and beings!" he declared aloud, grabbing Aleard's arm, "Honest and upright,
delinquent and devious
- mark my words! What we know will be washed away and this town will be born again!"
Aleard stared at Enki, stunned for a brief second, before prying the old man's hand from his arm.
"How
dare
you lay your hand on me," said Aleard furiously, flinging Enki's arm away, a flurry of emotion mysteriously manifesting, "You, old man, are insane. Your words mean nothing."
Another deafening crash of thunder erupted as the wind intensified, making the pub's windows rattle violently.
Enki seemed to be in a trance, then all at once struck out of it.
"You! I have seen you! I have seen who you are!" he proclaimed at the top of his lungs pointing an accusing finger at Aleard, causing all in the Pub to stop their conversations short.
Aleard fell back, shocked by the words of the mystic, feeling a wild and raging panic build within him.
"Shut it, old man!" he said through clenched teeth.
"You will not live to see tomorrow, Aleard," the Mystic said calmly, "But unlike you and those that have fallen by your hand, your legacy will live on. Your Mafiosi will outlive you."
While the storm outside grew wilder and wilder, Mother's remained in complete silence. Rayer and Emerlyn slowly stood from their table, confused by what they were witnessing. To their horror, Aleard pulled a gun from his vest, pushing the barrel against at Enki's chest. There were screams and suddenly the Pub was in an uproar, people ducking under tables and making for the exit. Enki stood still, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings, staring into Aleard's eyes.
"It matters not what happens here now," he said as hysteria abounded around them. More thunder struck and now the rain could be heard like brutal punches against the earth.
Aleard, gripping the firearm with all his might, pulled the trigger, firing a shot into Enki's chest. The old man gasped, wide eyed, his knees buckling before collapsing to the floor.
Aleard looked about him, his heart skipping a beat. What was happening? What had he done? The faces of those around him were filled with dread. The wind began howling through the pub blowing with so much force that the pub's doors and windows had been blasted open allowing storm water to burst through. Tables were overturned, glasses shattering. The very walls of the building began rattling as plaster fell from the ceiling. Giant crashes were heard outside and before anyone knew it, the Pubs walls caved in, water flooding in like rapids, bringing the entire building collapsing down upon all inside.
...
The storm having subdued, you make your way outside to survey the damage. Street after street you find nothing but ruin, amazed that your own dwelling was untouched. You head straight to the city centre, to Mother's, where you heard a gunshot just moments before the storm ended. As you approach you notice that eleven others are making their way there too. To your dismay, you are all greeted by the the collapsed remains of the old pub.
...
As the group of twelve came near the remains of Mother's, they noticed someone moving in the rubble through the moonlight. Enki, the old Mystic, came crawling out, drenched in water and the blood that ran from the bullet wound in his chest. He pulled himself forward before turning to face the gathered crowd. Through shallow, interrupted breaths he spoke.
"So it ended. So it begins," he said, eyes starting to close and his head unsteady, as if he was falling asleep. Becoming alert, he spoke again, now with a certain determination, "The trails of Nubigena are not over. There remain amongst you those that seek this town as their own. They will destroy all that stand in their way unless they are stopped! It is not for me to say whose end is more worthy, but only that an end
must
be met and
blood will be spilt
to meet it. This, it was seen and has been foreseen in all times past!"
Enki stopped. One by one, he looked deeply into the eyes of all the twelve gathered then spoke one last time.
"All prophesies end here. In destruction comes renewal and rebirth. The future of Nubigena now lies in your hands. Make of it what you will."
With that, Enki lay down and closed his eyes, his life finally leaving his body.
