Crimson Clouds

...and the prophecies had foretold it all. It was all to happen during the 404th cycle of the next lush season. First the sky would turn crimson, breaking out storms beyond the mountains. But not just any storms, entities with their own malevolent will. Lightnings would scorch the ground like spears of unextinguishable fire. And all of this was only the first stage. The King, filled with feelings of both sense and superstition, was burdened with these visions of the apocalypse. "It would mean the end of my kind. My people, my kingdom, all gone." The King sighed. "The end of a glorious era that shall be remembered as the era of the King that could not help his people in their time of need." Two months ago Yavya would have considered the Prophecy as superstitious nonsense, but all that had changed after the things she had seen. A feeling of despair crept upon her. What could she do?