Prophecy: Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Prophecy

It was an old prophecy, so old that most of those at the Xiaolin Temple barely recalled it. And even if they did, they still couldn’t figure out what it meant.

But there was no doubt that it was ancient. The scroll it had been written on had been handled and poured over so much that it could barely be read now.

And yet they remembered...

Earth created it:
“The elements and the ore buried deep within itself created the beginning: nigh indestructible, harder than anything, strongest of all...”
Fire heated it:
“The flames danced amongst the ore and warmed it, strengthening and merging with the elements, to light its way, and guard it from unworthy wielders...”
Wind shaped it:
“The laughing zephyrs and howling gales swirled around and around the melted ore, giving it shape and the speed and knowledge of the Air as it, too, became one...”
Water tempered it:
“The mighty pounding of the waves and the gentle caress of the stream cooled and hardened the weapon, bringing the bite of winter’s ice and the force of floods at beck and call...”
“A weapon of all weapons... birthed by all the elements, more steadfast than any mountain, fiercer than any flame, swifter than any breeze, and stronger than any wave... When sun and moon are joined, four will awaken it, and with its coming shall the last element be revealed... the strongest and weakest of all....”

It seemed so simple, so easy; and yet they could not comprehend. Why? Were they not meant to know, to decipher this strange message? Perhaps it was something that could only be unlocked to them in time. But would they know? Suppose they made the mistake of interpreting it too early? Would they even recognize what they sought?

Suppose it came and went... right under their very noses?

*************************

Rain pounded against the rooftops, falling in heavy sheets; lightning flashed as thunder roared back, making it seem as though the ground shook while the wind moaned, ripping through trees and all that it could get past. Disregarding all of this, Master Fung stood quietly in the Xiaolin Temple, just within shelter. His thoughts traveled along with the breeze; he closed his eyes.

There was electricity in the air, and not just that of the lightning. It seemed as though something about the storm had been holding its breath, and now the stress of the anticipation had broken loose, unleashing its excitement upon the world, though Master Fung was uncertain that the world appreciated the weather’s enthusiasm.

A frown pronounced itself on his solemn features as his thoughts went further. This was not the first night to have a storm like this...

The thought was interrupted suddenly when he felt a strange slithering sensation making its way to his shoulders, claws helping it along. Master Fung knew he had no reason to fear, and did not move from his stance. Once the creature had settled itself, he spoke.

“Taking a break, Dojo?”

The green dragon huffed in his ear.

“Some break; it’s just like all the other hours I waste watching that thing”

Master Fung raised an eyebrow.  “‘Waste’, you say?” he said.  Dojo sighed in reply.

“You know what I mean,” he groaned, and Master Fung heard the dragon slap a claw to his brow; the monk allowed the corners of his mouth twitch slightly into a smile, his blue eyes unable to conceal an amused twinkle.

But after a particularly loud roll of thunder, the smile faded, and Master Fung slipped back to his thoughts. Three times before this had happened, though each time it had been different.

The first had caught them off guard. The heavy rolls and shaken the earth so much that the following morning, a repair crew had been called in to replace some of the support beams.  Second, the wind had been so fierce that the trees were nearly ripped out of the ground, roots and all; some of the plants hadn’t managed to keep a tight enough grip. Third, lightning had struck so often that a blaze started up; the grounds had just barely recovered from the encounter.

And now... it was like the heavens had opened and unleashed the water from the clouds.

But the oddest thing was, the Xiaolin Temple wasn’t the only place to suffer. There were reports of each in Texas, Brazil, and Tokyo, though each time one case had been stronger than the others in one of these locations. And, somehow, Fung knew that China was the worst off with the rains. His frown deepened.

He heard a cough to his right. His blue eyes traveled to Dojo, who was eying the storm suspiciously. “Kinda weird weather we’re having, isn’t it?”

“Yes...,” said Master Fung. “And even stranger is what it might be linked to.”

Dojo gave him a blank stare. “Pardon?”

“There were three other storms like this: one proclaiming earth, one wind, and one fire. This one...” He swept a hand at the torrents of rain. “...is water.”

There was a small silence in which all of this sunk into Dojo. Then his eyes widened, and he turned a numb stare at Master Fung. “Then... that means...?”

“What else could it mean?” inquired Master Fung, turning his gaze back to the small dragon and life-long friend perched on his shoulder.

Dojo opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, and then closed it again; he repeated this for several minutes, looking remarkably like a goldfish. Master Fung waited patiently for Dojo to reclaim his voice. But once the dragon had, he was interrupted by a distant, faint sob, carried to them by the fierce winds.

Both straightened, staring out into the storm. Casting an uneasy eye at the weather, the dragon leaned in towards his friend and hissed, “D’you think it’s just the wind?”

Master Fung shook his head, eyes never leaving the direction of the sound. After a few more moments of waiting... yes, there it was again, this time unmistakable. There was someone out there in the storm.

Casting his gaze around, Master Fung caught sight of a fellow monk. He called to his comrade.

“Gather some of the elders and bring medical supplies. Someone is out there in the storm; I will go fetch them.”

The monk’s eyes widened, but he left without a word. Steeling himself, Master Fung stepped out into the rain, ignoring the distinct groan from Dojo as the dragon hid in his vest. Paying no heed to the weather, the monk charged across the grounds, through the main doors, and outside the Temple grounds. He came to a sudden stop.

Just before him, lying in the gathering mud, was a young woman, delicate in stature, though her stomach was extremely round. And then it hit him: the woman’s sides were heaving...

...She was in labor.

Master Fung was by the woman’s side in an instant. Dojo peeked out from under Fung’s vest in curiosity.

“Young lady...,” started the monk.

The woman’s eyes opened, traveling everywhere and finally coming to a rest on Master Fung. With a gasp of pain, she seized the monk’s arm with a surprisingly strong grip. She looked pleadingly into his eyes, and he saw the pain she was going through reflected there, the desperation.

“Please...,” she croaked. “My... my child.... Don’t let it... please...”

“It’s alright,” he soothed. Then he cast Dojo a stern glance, his eyes saying everything that needed to be told. Dojo seemed to deflate.

“Aw, Fungster...”

“Now, Dojo,” Master Fung ordered firmly, a steely note in his voice.

With a small, dejected sigh, Dojo inflated himself to his actual length of 40-feet, grumbling about the rain. Unfazed in the slightest, Master Fung carefully lifted the woman and placed her in Dojo’s arms.  For a moment, Dojo didn’t seem to notice.

“I still don’t see...” Then the dragon’s eyes widened, as though just realizing what he had to do. Quickly, Dojo hurried inside the temple, sheltering the woman from the rain. The monk watched, knowing how risky it was to move her. But she couldn’t deliver her child in the rain...

Shaking his head, Master Fung headed back inside. He was just in time to see the newcomer be carried off to the infirmary. He released a sigh of relief he didn’t even know he’d been holding, and jumped slightly when confronted by a comrade holding a blanket.

“You must keep warm,” he said firmly, wrapping the blanket around Master Fung. He nodded gratefully, and headed to his room.

He had some thinking to do.

*************************

The interruption came sooner than Master Fung had anticipated.

“It’s a boy!” cried Dojo jubilantly, waltzing into the room with a look of glee on his face. “Great delivery: no harm to the little guy at all! Although...” He paused in thought. “...he did have a big head... Is that normal?”

Master Fung rose to his feet. “Is the child healthy?” he asked.

Dojo nodded.

“Good.” Allowing the dragon to clamber back onto his usual perch, Master Fung headed down the hallway to see the mother. He was intercepted, however, by two monks, one holding a small bundle in his arms.

“Here is the child,” said the bundle bearer. Master Fung peered curiously into the blankets

Dojo hadn’t been kidding: the kid did have a big head. But his small, dark eyes, shining with something special Master Fung couldn’t exactly decipher, studied everything with a mild curiosity. The small orbs met Master Fung’s wise blue ones, and a tiny smile crept into the monk’s face as the child burbled; already the boy had grown on him.

“Does he have a name?”

“Not yet, but...” The second monk glanced at the one holding the child, who nodded, bowed, and left. The monk’s gaze was quietly intense. “...there is no doubt that the child is a Chosen One!”

Master Fung’s eyes widened, as did Dojo’s. Obviously, the dragon hadn’t heard this part. He looked intently at the news bearer. “You’re certain of this?” he asked softly.

“Never more so,” said the monk fervently.

A distant look grew in Master Fung’s eyes. He nodded, and headed towards the mother’s room.

She lay on her bed, sickly and pale. Obviously, the delivery had had too much of an effect on her. Her eyes were closed, and her chest rose and fell weakly. Master Fung quietly slipped in and sat in a bed-side chair. Her eyes flickered for a moment, and she looked at him.

“My son?” she asked weakly.

Master Fung smiled. “He will be fine.”

A tiny smile crossed her face, and she nodded, leaning back into the pillows. “Then I have nothing to fear,” she whispered, eyes closing.

The older man knew that she was leaving, but not yet. He needed one piece of information from her. “Wait,” he said.

She opened her eyes weakly and looked at him.

“Your son... he has no name. What do we call him?”

For an eternity that lasted in one moment, the woman looked at him. Then she motioned with her finger for Master Fung to lean in. He obliged; she raised herself with her remaining strength and gripped him tightly. Her lips just next to his ear, she gasped out with her final breath:

“...Omi.”