[Prophecy] The Morning Glass

[Cally 1080]

 

This vision is available to Farseers, Seers, Clairvoyants, Veilwatchers, Palm Readers, and all those that can see Prophecy according to lore.

 

 

You dream of a kitchen lit by a soft, golden light.

The walls breathe warmth, and the scent of spice, smoke, and broth wraps around you like comfort. A large pot rests above the fire, its surface rippling with a quiet glow. It hums faintly, the air sings along.

 

You stir the soup with a careful hand.

 

The broth glimmers with small, living motes of light that drift, vanishing stars beneath water. When you taste it, the flavor fills your chest with something bright and bittersweet. You feel pride. You feel love. You feel the calm that comes from creation. The soup was nothing if not yours, right?

 

Behind you, a presence moves.
A hand rests lightly against your shoulder. You know it before you turn. He stands beside you, the one whose smile softens every noise in the world. His eyes catch the firelight, steady and kind. His voice is low and quiet when he speaks.

 

“It smells right”

He says.

“You’ve made something good.”

 

You smile, but before you can answer, the pot trembles.
The surface ripples once, then again, harder this time. The broth surges upward, spilling over the rim. You try to steady it, but the light within the liquid has changed. It does not cool or fade. It pours down the table and across the floor, gathering instead of sinking, swirling faster, shining brighter.

 

The man steps back, his eyes wide. You both watch as the spill spirals into itself, forming a circle of gold that opens into depth. Steam rises, thick and heavy, shaped by light and movement. The air grows hot enough to blur the edges of everything you know. By then, the man is gone, and you are left with the smoky haze of remembrance, clutching to what - or who, dared to interrupt you. His tightened grip on your hand fades and you are left to brave this potential danger alone.

 

 

From within the spiral, a tiger steps forth.

Its stripes gleam like molten metal. Its eyes are deep and old. When it looks at you, you feel seen, stripped of doubt and left only with fear. A spirit laid in material means, before your eyes only. 

The tiger lowers its head. The world's resolve hitches for but a moment. Filled with the incandescence, a need to understand, but that same hunger unsatiated.
When it speaks, the words fill your body instead of your ears.

 

“To provide is to create balance.
To feed another is to honor the flame that feeds you.
The hearth is not meant to serve the self alone."

 

Things feel right, things feel calm. The tiger’s gaze lingers on you.
You feel the truth of its words sink into your bones.

 

The warmth at your core grows stronger until you can almost see it flickering beneath your skin.

You feel one, you feel all, you feel whole. 

The tiger exhales once, a sound like the wind moving through embers. Its form softens into mist. The spiral fades to a dim ring of light before disappearing altogether.

 

The kitchen grows quiet. Only the scent of spice and smoke remains.
You and he stand together beside the cooling pot, your reflections glowing faintly in its surface. For a moment, you see the tiger’s face there too, and then it is gone.

 

You wake with the memory still warm in your chest.
The air smells faintly of broth and fire. Morning light glows across your skin, and something deep within you feels steadier.

 

The world feels ready. And so are you.

 

Spoiler

I thought there was a severe LACK of good dreams within Prophecy, so, I made one! Enjoy!