Erina’s iridescent wings fluttered in distress.
The time of the Great Migration was almost upon them. Overhead, the sun turned redder day by day. Soon it would unleash a torrent of heat and radiation that would destroy the ithani, the Heart, and Erro itself.
Ze had foreseen the end of the war years before and had passed zer knowledge on to Thshnel’Jirron, trusting zi to protect them all. But zis plan had gone too far, and soon the ithani would destroy themselves in a bid for immortality.
Only zi would survive, immensely more powerful than now. A virtual vengeful god.
Ze had seen that, too, but it had come to zer far too late.
Each generation of the ithani had a seer, and ze had been born from the Heart with that heavy responsibility upon zer small shoulders. Even a seer didn’t know everything about what was to pass. Only the bits and pieces that were passed on to zer from the athrà. Besides Jirron, no one else knew ze had the gift.
Something, or someone, was coming, ze didn’t know what yet, but ze could feel it in zer bones.
Ze was at a loss for what to do next. Ze let out a whoosh of breath, resigned to waiting. It would come to zer, the vision she needed. When the gods thought it was time.
Until then, ze would keep zer wings low to the ground and do nothing further to draw attention.