Creative Practice Day 7

  Arthur awoke to the sound of the air cracking open around him. From the openeing of his tent he could see the tops of the pines waving violently as if a hurricane had swept through the land, yet no sound of wind reached his ears. A strange, orange glow eminated from beyon his tent, and it was moving towards him. The lone soldier bolted out of his tent, scrambling with his sword to make ready to face this strange danger.    "Do not be afraind, Arthur, son of Indri and Theresa, I am a messenger to you this night, not the sword nor distruction." The voice was quiet, but its power vibrated Arthur's chest as if it were cannonfire. He was speechless. The being hovered above the ground, bore aloft by six wings with crimson feathers that refelcted orange light like winter sun's rays peircing ice. His sword fell from his hand and he fell to his knees, mind overcome by the sheer awe and terror of such a creature. "Arthur. Heed what I say. A darkness is coming to the land which will wraught such destruction, the Every nation and people will suffer. Follow the signs that are laid for you, and do not doubt what you see. "