Suddenly, a mushroom sits on the path ahead.
"...Steel, war and ash. Perhaps it will come to be or otherwise it will not. Alternatives are many and the future foggy, but so it has to be. The King arrived to the mushroom. Mister Mushroom greeted him, as a king should be greeted. His moth was tired from the climb. His children were in hands the king would not like. But that is all in the past as the future greets us... Oh, excuse me..."
The mushroom turns around and mumbles something about the stars.
Greetings Herald; I had thought thou had moved on from these lands, or, perhaps thou did and simply returned. Thou does move in ways even We do not comprehend in full.
"Oh I know this guy! Huh, weird, I don't understand this language... can you—"
I shalt explain later, if I am able, for now let us converse with The Herald... you speak of steel and the ashes of war, this I myself hath also seen looming upon the horizon like a dark distant shadow, its long fingers digging grooves into the land. Thou says perhaps it may come to be, Herald, but I fear it must, I fear there is no other way for it to be.
But while I see the paths clearly, clearer than most if not all of mine kind—although in truth I hath not always been a Wyrm—thou art a walker of those very same paths, someone who lives in all realities, at least I hath always assumed so.
...The future greets us both indeed, does it not? Even my eyes cannot see its end... I cannot see a future I am not in.
Wait. What does one mean that mine children are in the hands of someone I do not like... Lurien what hath you done?
"Ahaha, that's what the mushroom is saying? Trust me, you do not wish to know... just know that I will make it up to you!"
