"This is fate." The Ancestor sighed deeply and released my hand. "I should have known when I realized the depths of your anger and your willingness to kill."
For some reason, although I was curious, I somehow couldn't be bothered to ask for an explanation. I knew they would eventually get to that.
Behind me, I could hear Bruce and Jeanette approach us.
"You did well making him your sworn brother that quickly." The Ancestor praised Bruce and nodded. "Saved us from a whole lot of guesswork and pain, you did."
"Thank you, Ancestor." Bruce bowed deeply.
"I guess you need to know the whole story." The Ancestor looked at me and sighed deeply again.
"I've looked forward and dreaded this moment for so long, and now, it's finally upon me." The Ancestor said ruefully. "Sit down here next to me once more."
I obeyed him wordlessly.
"Some things are better shown than told. Close your eyes."
As before, the smell of flowers and herbs entered my nostrils and very soon, I was swimming in memories again. However, the memories weren't mine.
It was the Ancestor's.
A young and handsome version of the Ancestor was seated in a small room. His eyes were closed and his right hand was gripping an ancient looking pen and writing furiously on a piece of paper.
"A tiger will rise from the snowy mountains and fight the good fight for the nation. He would strike down our enemies and protect us from certain doom. However, a tiger is no match for demons. He will fall and we will not avoid defeat."
The memory shifted, and a slightly older looking Ancestor in high ranking military uniform was watching the news alone in his office.
"Russel Whitefrost! National hero!! He orchestrated the national defense strategy which defeated every single army sent our way from both the East and the West! Against all odds, we're winning the war! Truly, he is like a tiger among a rabble of chicken!"
And then the memory shifted once more. He was still in his office watching the news, but the newscaster was a different person and was shouting out very grim news.
"Russel Whitefrost, hero of the Chinese Federation, is surrounded on all sides by the enemy! They are attacking his position like a pack of demons! Why isn't the military high command sending out reinforcements to rescue him? If he falls, the Chinese Federation will fall too!"
"A prophet." I realized with a start. "The Ancestor is a prophet! He is able to predict the future!"
The memory shifted again.
The Ancestor was in the throne room and observing the Blood Moon entrance test that a very young looking Bruce was taking. However, the shocking thing about that scene was that Bruce was sweating blood!
His head and his body were covered with little blood droplets which slowly grew bigger.
The Ancestor's face was extremely grim. When young Bruce finally woke up, he was soaked in his own blood. The Ancestor put his arm around him and held him that way silently for a few seconds.
And then, a look of absolute surprise struck his face, and then he opened his mouth to speak in a deep voice.
The Wings of the Twin Dragons shall carry the Federation high above the Clouds of Glory.
Black and White, Male and Female, Power and Splendor.
The Clash of the Twin Dragons shall plunge the Federation into the Precipice of Annihilation.
Black will strike White in the light, and White will stab Black in the dark.
Their blood shall drown the nation in grief and mourning.
Salvation lies in the hands of the Dragon... Kin.
At his final word, the Ancestor's gaze fell upon Bruce, who was trembling in shock and grief in his arms.
"Bruce is the prophesied Dragon Kin? Then doesn't that mean I am one of the prophesied dragons?" I wondered.
Once more, the memory shifted. This time, it was a recent memory, one that was only a few years old.
A much younger Emma, barely past toddler age, stood silently in the Whitefrost Clan's main living room. The Ancestor was there, along with Russel and someone who could only be Phil Whitefrost, Emma's dad.
The Ancestor was holding Emma's hand with an extremely grave expression.
He turned to look at Russel Whitefrost and said, "The White Dragon of the Chinese Federation. She will lead us to certain glory and possible destruction."
Silence hung in the air. As senior military men, they knew that the Chinese Federation had a zero-tolerance policy towards national threats. Threats were always snuffed out as soon as they appeared.
And in that situation, the obvious step was to kill Emma. Sacrifice glory to stave off doom. It was the logical choice.
Russel Whitefrost only gave the Ancestor a cold look and said a single sentence.
"She is my granddaughter."
"I will advise the President to grant her The Core." The Ancestor nodded as though he was expecting his unreasonable response and said emotionlessly.
"The Core. So that's the name of Emma's secret." I noted to myself.
The smell, along with the memories, faded and I opened my eyes.
For the first time, an emotion other than pain, grief and numbness filled my eyes.
"Emma is the White Dragon of your prophecy? And I am…"
"The Black Dragon." The Ancestor nodded gravely. "You and Emma will soon lead us to greatness beyond anything the world has ever seen."
I looked at him incredulously.
"And then, the two of you will fight and destroy the country." The Ancestor continued. "At which point, you, little Bruce, are our only hope."
Bruce Pang, Jeanette Wen and I merely stared at him, each of us lost in our own thoughts and emotions.
"If there is one thing I learnt in my years as a prophet, it is that although prophecies will definitely come true, they often do so in the strangest and most unexpected ways. Don't worry too much about it. Go, bring him to his mecha." The Ancestor waved us away and closed his eyes wearily. "Come back when you're done. I have questions about your strange power.
All three of us bowed and then turned around to leave.
We left the front area of the room where the Ancestor had taken as his personal meditation area, and walked down the central walkway with the thirty six mechas standing on our left and right.
Their sheer size and awesomeness demanded my attention and awe, and was able to lift my depressed mood a little.
"Thirty six white mechas of the highest grade, divided into twelve distinct types based on the twelve elements of the world." Bruce whispered in awesome wonder.
"One of them will be yours."
The most uptodat𝓮 n𝒐vels are published on (f)reew𝒆(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦