The Twelfth Prophecy

Cinnamon sticks will bring down a mountain and cloves will drown high-born mendicants. The sea that is not a sea born of human toil will push homes to the mountains and beauty that was not would shine. Daughters and sons of the guardians of ancient trees will be succored by bricks and stones. Flowing curves will dampen all spices and the sea will smell of rose.

The Eleventh Prophecy

She will come with the wind that brings rain; and the 16-columned house will fly with the wind.

The Tenth Prophecy

A kiss will tear the world asunder and all will mourn the bridge that once was. Old beliefs will become hollow and even stone will weep to mark their passing. What was never known will be known, and all that was never forgotten will vanish. At the end of the month that is less than a month, yellow birds will sing as the guide begs for guidance. All will quake and tremble in wonder though courage and anger will fill all hearts. Fire will not harm fire and poison that healed will no longer heal; and a whisper will bring darkness to all and the sun will weep blood. The temple that is not a temple will stand even as the stone that is not a stone at its base breaks. The first battle will end before it begins; and grace will flow from from every crack.

The Ninth Prophecy

The fierce city that was flattened by the sea will rise again, and from its ancient warring blood will spring one who will spill blood. Trinkets and playthings of yore will become weapons, by which all but a remnant of a remnant will perish.

The Eighth Prophecy

Salt will be his doom and he will not know it. Red leaves will give him power and he will not know it. The north wind will bear him to power and he will not know it.

The Seventh Prophecy

The murderer of millions will become the saviour of millions and he will face his fate while crossing the muddy river in the eternal city. The column that long stood fixed on earth will fly towards heaven and trees will soar.

The Sixth Prophecy

He who is more than a man and less than a man will rule over the ancient house of gold and will find death on the island born of human toil. The unstained whore will weep his loss, his death making the sons of earth prostrate themselves before silkworms even as grace flows from every crack. The daughters of earth will curse their mornings and all will be poor even as gems fall from the sky and the sons of earth spit gold. All but a remnant of a remnant will be lost.