Yo. I have it. I just felt like doing this. Please forgive me.

Prologue

'Firestar?' A slender, worn-out body shouldered its way to peek through a rusty red-wood iron-hinged doorway.

'Leafpool?' The gruff old man sitting at an ornate Tartarus-dark polished desk looked up from what he was writing. His red beard hung down in an uncombed tangle, and he was wearing a tatty forest-green and beechwood-brown uniform with a golden sash running down. Encrusted in it was a shining deep green sphere, cut in half so one side was flat against the Imperial Gold.

'My leader,' the figure in the doorway trembled, 'I fear my inner Oracle is weakening.'

The red-bearded man put his griffin-feather quill pen down and brought his hands together. His face was wrinkled and worried, hardened with experience and age, and his eyes told stories of the wars he had seen. 'It is what I suspected, Leafpool,' he sighed. 'With every hour, the untold force is growing stronger, and it is not long before they have found what they want.'

'Do you think it is true then sir?' The figure stepped forward, her chestnut-plain locks tumbling in ringlets on her shoulders. 'That the untold forces are targeting an Olympian to bring to the Dark Side?'

The man at the desk sighed again. 'I fear so, my dearest daughter. Though which Olympian it is I cannot say.' He stood up, running his hands against the edgeline of his desk. 'But what can we do? I think that the worse has come. Hope is running out.' He stroked his chin thoughtfully, frowning. 'But come, how are you then, Leafpool?'

'Feeling tired, sir,' she replied. 'I have not been Oracle of ThunderSide for very long. The previous one, Cinderpelt, taught me much on life, wounds, prophecies, and knowledge.' She looked down, sad at the painful memory of her mentor. 'But now I have no apprentice, there is no-one to succeed me. Not to question your intelligence, my leader, but are you sure no apprentice, nor demi-godling, wants to become Oracle?'

The man, Firestar, shook his head. 'Not one.' he replied. 'And we know we cannot force one - being Oracle comes only from the heart.' But then he shook himself. 'Not that I think you shall die, Leafpool,' he said quickly.

Leafpool was troubled. 'But my health is not good - I do my hardest, Firestar, my noble leader, I thrive to not only keep ThunderSide in good health but to keep the universe in place too - yet I fear it is not enough. I am getting visions more and more frequently, all short, dark, ominous and unexplainable. I had one only this morning,' she explained solemnly.

'Did you make anything out of it?' Firestar enquired.

Leafpool sighed. 'As usual, no.'

'Then,' Firestar walked up to his daughter and put his arm around her, 'get some rest. You need it.' Leafpool nodded, and turned to walk out the door. She was just about to do so when she remembered something.

'There is more, Father,' she said. 'Squirrelflight's demi-godlings have come.'

'Great StarClan of the Underworld!' Firestar gasped. 'My daughter has had children! Leafpool, is she well? Did it go according to plan? Does Brambleclaw know? Is she ready to see me yet?'

Leafpool dipped her head respectfully. 'All is well, sir,' she answered, trying to be calm. Instead she twirled her hair worriedly and tried not to meet her leader's gaze. 'Squirrelflight has given birth to three triplets, one girl and two boys. She is very healthy, and is resting in my patient-room upstairs. All her children are healthy, and Brambleclaw is with her. You may see her tomorrow.' She then looked down sheepishly, and shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. Most of that was true. At least the most important parts.

'Oh Lord Zeus,' Firestar inhaled, oblivious to Leafpool's awkwardness. 'My daughter is a mother! I have three grandchildren. And triplets too! It must be a genetic thing, since you and Squirrelflight are twins.' He twiddled his beard thoughtfully for a while.

'Well,' he said at last, breaking the silence, 'you may rest for now, Leafpool. I will resume my writing,' and, heaving down onto his chair again, he dipped his quill in a silver-lined pot of black ink and began to record some information on a piece of parchment.

Leafpool stared around the room, wrapping a ringlet of hair around her finger absent-mindedly. The room was small, rectangular, and cosy. Old-fashioned red-and-gold wallpaper was spread onto the walls. On one side, against a wall, Firestar's grand Darkpine-wood desk stood, ornate carvings of mystical creatures engraved on its sides: Fayries, rumbling griffins, flaming birds and starry-eyed naiads. It also depicted carvings of heroes: Big, strong men facing a squealing seven-headed Hydra, eagles that soared with the power if lightning, fiercely battling against brave and courageous princes, looming Minotaurs and a shrieking snake-haired woman. The desk accumulated several drawers, three on each side, all filled with Firestar's scrolls, letters, quill sets, weapons, possessions and bric-a-bracs. On the desk stood a half-melted wax candle on a celestial bronze candle-holder. A bright flame sparked on it, eerily illuminating the desk. Next to it, perched, was a photograph of Firestar, hugging a blonde woman. A skipping little red-haired six-year-old jumping up next to the woman excitedly, and next to her was a contrastingly calm brunette. Leafpool looked at it, a tear welling in her eye. That was her family. The blonde woman was Sandstorm, their mother. They were all so... carefree. Soon, if no-one stopped them, the untold forces would succeed - and when that happened, all she had ever known would be destroyed.

On the other side was an ink pot, gleaming with the light of the candle. A pile if scrolls was heaped up daintily next to that, each tied with a crimson-red ribbon. An ancient bronze ring with a shimmering emerald was poised. The see-ring. Her connection with the leader. She had the exact-same one a perfect copy, stored safely in her shack. If Firestar needed to contact her quickly or vice-versa, this was the gadget used. Unfortunately, its power had faded recently. Now it was no more than a piece of rusty jewellery. The Hephaestus demi-gods had examined it and tried countless times to fix it, but they claimed it was impossible.

Leafpool felt herself glaring in the dim candlelight. How did everyone think they would defeat the untold forces if they claimed littler things such as that were impossible? All right, maybe this strange malfunction was somehow connected to the untold forces, but if it was, it certainly wasn't a very good start to defeating them.

Except for for the piece of yellowed parchment Firestar was writing on, there were only two more items left on the desk: One was a tele-mike, a microphone that Firestar could switch on if he wanted to spread an audio-message throughout the camp quickly, and the other was in-camp personal communicator, if he wanted to check up on a training session from his office, although he often did it in person. Usually, Firestar didn't spend much time in his office, and mostly strolled outside catching up on news and talking to satyrs, but since the untold forces had begun to rise he was spending more and more time shut up in his office alone.

On the walls, fayrie-oakwood shelves stretched, filled with the most astonishing collection of books, scrolls, letters, references, files, encyclopaedias, and recordings of the past. In the corner of the room a computer was switched off on a sprucey-desktop. Its pitch-black screen stared back at Leafpool. The computer was for updates and references on the mortal world, and very rarely mortal communication. It was not used very often though, and Firestar often had trouble figuring out how the battery plug worked.

In front of the opposing wall, a marble bust of a square-faced man with a wreath on his head stood. A bronze plaque hung underneath, which read:

ALL PRAISES TO LORD ZEUS

GOD OF THE SKY, LIGHTNING, STORMS, AND THE UNIVERSE

KING OF OLYMPUS

BELOVED HUSBAND OF HERA

AND RULER OF THE UNIVERSE

The bust reminded Leafpool of Thornclaw, one of the demi-gods of ThunderSide. The warrior certainly looked a lot like his father, with the same square chin, heavy eyebrows, and look of determined attitude.

Last of all, at the back of the room, lay crackling dusty fireplace. The mantelpiece was decorated with several small glass bottles, each with a label. Some were half-filled with strange-coloured liquids, and some were empty. A small branch of mistletoe was placed in the the mantelpiece, a square window had its curtains drawn shut.

Under the mantelpiece, a fire roared on a pile of thick logs. Leafpool stared into its blazing depths. Her eyes shone of war; pain, glazed all over there, the flames lunging.

She brought herself to say the last thing.

'One of them is blind.'

Firestar turned to look at her. 'What on Olympus do you mean Leafpool?'

'One of the demi-godlings.'

Firestar's eyes stretched wide as the truth dawned on him.

'Then perhaps they will never be a hero,' he sighed grimly.

Leafpool felt a strange sensation pulling her into the centre of the room. 'He is the smallest one, the blue-eyed one.'

As her mouth closed up over the last word, Leafpool felt smoke filling her lungs. Darkness clouded over, and ominous sounds of wails rang in her ears. Her bones went stiff. Everything clouded over. Her memories were blotted out from her mind, as she plunged into a vision.

Her jaw dropped open and green smoke poured out. Her eyes turned a frightful mix of bloody red and snake-green, sinking into her face, grey rings darkening under them.

'There will be three,

Blood of your Blood,

Who hold the power of the stars in their hands.'

The words spiralled out of Leafpool's mouth in a hoarse, rasping voice. The letters spun out, jumbling and leaping, to form the sentence that shone golden in the air. Her pupils narrowed. Her face was contorted into an expression of pain. Her head rolled. And then - it stopped.

The red and green Leafpool's eyes faded, and the scaly rasping cells of her skin went just as quickly as they came. Sight flooded into her eyes. The golden words etched into the air crumbled to nothing more than dust. She could think properly again - although she had no memory of what had just happened.

'Blood of my blood,' Firestar echoed like a ghost.

Leafpool stared around the room. 'What just happened?' she asked.

'You went into a vision,' Firestar murmured. 'An incredibly powerful one, if you can't remember what happened. You said something - a prophecy.'

'What did I say?' Leafpool trembled, her heart pounding.

'There will be three, blood of your blood, who hold the power of the stars in their hands,' Firestar repeated the words. 'What does it mean?'

A faint probability crept into Leafpool's mind. 'Do you think-' she began.

'LEAFPOOL!' a shriek sounded from the room above. 'LEAFPOOL!'

'Squirrelflight?' Leafpool shouted to the ceiling, panicked.

'LEAFPOOL!' Squirrelflight screamed. 'IT'S THE DEMI-GODLINGS! THEY'RE GONE!'

Ha ha, so that was it, ladies and gents. Or the prologue at least. I'm sure you've guessed that the three demi-godlings are the three in the prophecy.

Stay tuned!

-Crystal

:)