Ceremony by the Roll

There was no thud, no sound, silence, and bated breath as it rolled around, spinning first like a top, then slowing down. Hearts were beating fast. The air was thick with anticipation and fear. Just as it seemed it would stop, the dice spun faster and faster, and then up the track and back down. A gleeful sneer was emanating from it. The shaggy carpet was thick. The dice was alive. It stopped. Each side had anywhere from one image to nine. The dice had twelve sides. Twelve impossibly powerful sides that determined the fate of the world. The men in hoods waited, three men. One on each side that the dice would point. Breath no longer bated, they waited. A whoosh, fast and strong. A sunflower appeared, it had been drawn as to the dice as if by a magnet. The sunflower rested, standing on the dice, it’s roots slowly wrapping around it, taking root. When it was done, there was complete silence. Not a thing stirred, the three men were silent, motionless, their robes still, as if made of lead, their hoods as if made of stone. In unison, as if by some unspoken signal, they each drew out a small plate from their hands, one was lead, one copper, the third silver. One by one, in that order, they walked to a corner of the room, glowing as if underwater, waves of light streaming through only a cylindrical volume of that corner. One by one, they hung the plates to thin wires of metal sticking up. When they were done, a loud click reverberated through the room, there was a burst of wind and a sudden darkness. The lights clicked on silently, a miniature pyramid was hanging over the scales, also upside down. A crescent moon shone in the corner, present in the room, and yet thousands of miles away. A spinning globe appeared on the other side. The moon had eyes, it was sleeping. 

A question asked

Many answers given

The power of one

The forces of three

All shall fall

The voice was sudden and deep. It struck fear into the hearts of the hooded figures, even though they were expecting it. The sunflower was charred, slowly fading into ash. The sides of the dice were dark, nothing could be seen.

The figures dispersed, this had been the last one. The pieces of the puzzle were complete. They had no need for one another. They had spent years looking for those who believed. Three were all that remained of a once mighty order. They had set up the room by the traditions long forgotten. They each had their reasons for taking part.

Now each dispersed to fulfil what they thought was destiny. The One with the Scar went to find and stop the prophecy. The One with the Patch went to prepare for a future where it had happened, to help the homo sapien survive once more, as the ancients had done many ages ago. The One with the Wooden Leg went to destroy the world.