How To Write Prophecy Novels & Stories

Hopefully, it had already recorded the most important details of the day. I had written down accounts of every day that I had been here, but this was the first time that automatic writing had worked. It was a relief, but if my magic was being blocked again, then I would just have to finish writing by hand. I was keeping good notes, but I couldn’t get over the feeling that there was something that I just wasn’t getting. Some piece of this puzzle was missing, and it wasn’t just the fact that I still didn’t know what they expected me to do to fulfill this prophecy.

To whoever carries the Draven name when this letter open — I do not know your face. I know your bloodline, which is a different and lesser thing, and I want to say that clearly at the outset so you understand what this letter is and is not. It is not prophecy. I have lived too long inside systems that called themselves prophetic to have any patience left for that word. It is a record of what I understood and what I guessed and where those two things diverged, written for the practical purpose of giving you more than I had, which was almost nothing.

"Let the bond weaken. Let the wolf sleep. And let the prophecy begin." The leader lowered their hand, their voice cold and resolute. "It is done. The wolf shall sleep, and the bond shall wither. The prophecy is ours to wield."

Wolves Don’t Name Their Sins Ysabeau The first thing I learned about prophecy is that it never arrives on time. It shows up early, bleeding into the edges of days that should’ve been simple, or it crawls out too late—after the choices are already made, after the bodies are already in the ground. It never stands politely in the doorway and introduces itself. It slinks through the cracks. Like smoke, like rot, like a voice through wood. The house is too full of breathing when they return from the quarry. I feel them before I hear them—pulses crossing the ward lines, bond threads humming, the air itself recoiling from whatever was woken up out there.

“Yes.” “You signed.” “Yes.” “You gave your word.” “Yes.” “And now you retract it.” “Yes.” “Your word means nothing?” “My word was given under sarcasm” “Sarcasm of what?” “Prophecy.” He watches me carefully. “You still believe in it.” “I believe in consequences.” “And the prophecy named her.” “Yes.” “And named me.” “Yes.” “And yet you undo it.” “Because prophecy is guidance, not prison.” “You speak dangerously.” “I have lived dangerously.” He exhales slowly.

— The old agreement, yes? — The prophecy? Are the facts true or just strange coincidences? Currently, with the popularization of prophecy among the people, I intend to write a book about it. And you will help me. “He must set out on a journey to find his place” I intend to use part of the prophecy to finance you on a journey after the newest prophet's heir… . — I just can't believe he intended to use me this way all again. —And why should I? I have now my place to live, a good amount of war medals, and a maid. I no longer require your help.— This should do. . . Or not, there it goes the trick smile again. I officially hate smiles!

We sit down and he begins. “A lot of years ago a prophecy was written that a day would come when creatures of darkness would awaken, and they would gradually start hunting the people on earth, until they no longer existed and darkness would rule. Another prophecy was written that a girl would be born that would be able to withstand all the powers that are needed to be able to defeat this darkness”. “For weeks we have been searching for you with the clues that have been left within the prophecy. The girl will have no living relative.” At the mention of my parents death I had to hold the tears down.

The recipient of prophecies, the way the Gods connected with the mortals, the priests to be exact for only them knew the weird old language the prophecies were written in. It wasn’t easy to get the priests to tell him about what the prophecy meant! But with the right amount of pain, he managed to get them to not only speak but also teach him the symbols, and then he was able to read the prophecy on his own, and knew what the Gods had for them! All of them!

“You have been blessed with an extremely powerful weapon dear. Use it well, and you will guarantee peace upon this earth, use it badly, and that earth will turn into the deepest pits of hell. What you choose to do with it is entirely up to you. I already know the path that you will take and I already know how your story ends, but I want you to know that whatever you choose to do with that power, you can always change the outcome. It will never be too late for you my dear” She waited for a few seconds to let me comprehend her words to me. “Prophecies are my way of communicating with you. As a warlock, you should take them very seriously and never disregard them. They are glimpses of the futur

“I honestly don’t know. A long time ago there was a prophecy that was told. I can’t remember verbatim, it’s in one of my spell books though. It goes something along the lines of “When the differences of two become one, things that were will become undone. The shadows that lurk in the dark will be thrown into the light and it is the one that must fight,” or something like that. I’ll be giving you some of my grimoires and spell books to study from so you’ll see exactly what the prophecy says.” “But how do we know that I’m the one?” I ask.