“And sometimes you will feel like a god among men. Every fiber of your soul will tear itself into a thousand pieces of burning emotions melting your spirit and molding it until you’ve reshaped yourself in the image of your truth, a creature of wrath and grace.’

“When the sunlight rains down on the monstrosity you’ve become, you will smile. The clouds will clear before you when you roar and the tides will sweep across the shore. Warm spring air will caress you as you whisper the secrets of your heart, a spell to put the universe in order.’

“As the mountains crumble, glimmers of starlight will rain down to gather up the shattered pieces of your mind, nestling them in a basket of feather down, and carry you off into the night where you may find the peace to sleep.” 

The witch withered back into the lavishly outdated upholstered chair, exhausted from the surge of magic that brought the proclamation of prophecy.  Before her a wide-eyed child sat cross legged on the carpeted floor, her hair braided and neatly covered by a kerchief held in place by pins.  

Behind the child, sat her mother in an equally ostentatious but mismatched chair. She appeared to be as exhausted as the witch, but for a much different reason. In the silence she groaned, “That’s an awful lot of grandiose just to tell us Elissa is a shapeshifter. We already knew that, Gail.” 

With a dismissive wave, the crone sat up, “I don’t choose the words of the prophecy. I’m merely a vessel. Besides, Shera, it’s not my fault she sharted coming into her gift at such a young age. Although it is strange that she inherited her father’s powers and not yours.” 

Shera looked at her daughter, sitting quietly on the carpet. She had started to manifest her magic weeks ago with unalarming changes like sprouting whiskers or changing the color of her hair. It was quite another thing when two days ago she awoke to a spotted cat curled up next to her and, like any rational mother, swatted the baby-snatching predator with a broom only to have it turn into her daughter. Since then Elissa had been shifting into various animals with seemingly little to no control. 

Shera’s own magic was simple, coaxing plants to bloom and encouraging the best properties from them. Plants were tame and an easy magic to grasp and teach. Her late husband had been the shifter, a playful trickster and boisterous personality in contrast to herself. She had no idea where to even begin with her daughter’s abilities. Defeated, she leaned back in the chair and sighed. 

“Momma,” said the small voice at Shera’s feet. “What does my prophecy mean?” 

With a weak smile, Shera reached out a hand and pulled her daughter up onto her lap. “Your prophecy means you are going to do something great to help the world one day.” 

“Just like my father?” 

“Yes,” Shera’s smile brightened, “just like your father.”