Okay, I’m Sorry But I Just Feel So Restless About The Bushfires, I Made A Mini-comic. Maybe It Will

“My harp session turned into a Disney movie”

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Based off of this tweet (X) about a witch who decides she’d make a better chosen one than the 15 year old kid who never asked for this.

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“I’ve gathered you here today,” the King says, “to give you an important mission. Perhaps the most important mission I will ever assign.”

Tris feels her lip curl at the grave set of his jaw. She can’t bring herself to kneel like the other witches are, can’t bring herself to bow her head, can’t bring herself to feel honored by her invitation to the castle. 

Her village is still burning, a day’s ride to the east. Dragon fire. Can’t be put out. The King’s condolences will warm the survivors as they search for a place to lay their dead.

“The Ancient Dragon shows no sign of going back to sleep,” the King says. He beckons the Court Magician forward. “Lord Monkswood has divined the answer.”

“There is a child,” Lord Monkswood says, chest swelling with importance. He’s not from a witch clan and yet he’s the one standing beside the king, above them all. He holds out a crystal ball. “A child of fifteen summers who has been blessed with divine power. He is the one who will save us. He is the one who can slay the Ancient Dragon for good.”

Divination is small magic, but the situation is dire. Nobody else has been able to divine anything about the Ancient Dragon’s weaknesses. The witches in front of Tris whisper to each other and there’s hope in the words. His words will go down as a Prophecy with how quickly they all are to believe him.

Tris’ nails dig into her cloak.

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