A young King is sitting in his personal dining hall enjoying himself with good food and the company of close friends and family. It is dark out. If you look out from the table, there is a terrace and you can see the night sky over a high brown wall. A messenger arrives and the King’s stepfather gets up mumbling, “This can only be a death or a birth.”
The King looks out at his company, slight worry and agitation on his face. The Stepfather comes back with news of an invader, a large brute of a man who has caused them some trouble before and needs to be taken care of and disposed of.
The High Priestess, who is also the King’s aunt, steps forward and offers to handle the situation and by going to this reckless man’s home city and destroying it. It is the right move for a young king to make to his enemy and to someone who challenges his authority, so that it is not challenged again. The young King finds this a rather intense rebuttal, but it is clear everyone at the table believes it to be the right move. The High Priestess stands up and asks, “Would you not have me do my work, My King?” It is clear the final call is his.
The young king looks into the eyes of a woman he is flirting with and silently asks for approval of this.
Fade out and in.
The High Priestess is trying to sneak into the home of the Brute (this guy is rather big like The Rock, but not as ripped and his face is not as handsome). She jumps over the bits of a large snake that was chopped up and left about, and hides in a corner as she hears the Brute coming down the hall. She watches as he kills his “weak and undeserving” son for failing him at a task. While the son is begging for forgiveness on his knees, the Brute takes him in his hands and chokes the life out of him.
The Priestess is mouthing things in the corner, watching and mad, already starting her curse. The Brute looks around, his eyesight is poor but the rest of his senses tell him that there is someone else there. He walks away, back to his big stone table on a patio by the beach. The High Priestess, now very quietly, barely audibly, is muttering very fast as she slowly approaches the table.
The Brute acknowledges her, saying he knew it had to be her and then mockingly asks what she plans on accomplishing there that day before he took what little she had away.
Muttering her prayer/incantation the whole time, she grows louder. She rearranges food on the table, and periodically looks out to the sky over the ocean in front of them. She takes a huge bundle of green grapes in her left hand and raises it high and begins breaking them off with ripping gestures of her right hand and placing them over three plates. As she does so, clouds grow and darken in the distance and get closer and closer. The line between them and the sea blurs. It is a terrifying, ominous sight and the Brute cannot look away in shock and horror.
With the last grape and bit of the incantation, the High Priestess sets it down and watches as a tendril of grey cloud comes out of the sky and down towards them in a giant curve and then goes back down into the sea, and the giant formation opens down the middle like a zipper and in this mass it looks as if the ocean is swirling madly, horrifyingly and violently about. Foam and colors of nightmares swirling and crashing upon itself in a sight too terrifying to describe.
The Brute is frozen. The Priestess knows there isn’t time to lose. She quickly looks for shelter. She knows this force she has brought down will kill so many on this day, and that she should be extremely lucky to survive. She prays and pleads with the gods to keep her alive, to let her live and she will be done. No more of this, ever.
She hides in a pantry-like small room, knowing that the door might or might not help break the initial onslaught of this force coming to them. She keeps thinking to herself that all she has to do is outlast it for five minutes and then hold her breath and the water should recede. She musters up the courage to take a look through the keyhole for an estimate of how much time she has. Instead of a picture of the scene before her, there is a hazel eyeball. A man is looking through, trying to get in. Telepathically she hears him call out to her to let him in. He is mute. He begins to bang on the door. She opens the door to let him in, saying, “Ugh, you are cute I will let you in!”, and she views the scene and knows it is not long now. The Brute is still standing at his table, unable to move.
She explains the wait-it-out plan to the mute, who is cute indeed (tall and dirty blonde short hair; in the back of her mind she knows they would have a relationship if they get out of this alive, that he is the man meant for her, but perhaps not in this lifetime. She offers up her prayer to the gods again, of letting her live and then she’ll be done for good!) and then begins to lose hope in it. She knows if she goes too high, that the building will topple over with the force, but she knows if she stays so low they will surely drown. Then she looks up into the ceiling and sees space around the beam in the back of the room, and some dark-haired man running across it. A way up!
The Mute helps her climb up to the next story and he follows her. She climbs into a palm frond patchwork floor, strong but flexible. Here she knows they stand a chance. As they are climbing, a giant wrecking ball of a stone crashes at the front of the complex.
There are others bracing themselves for about what is to come on this level. Everyone has their eyes toward the windows and the sea, waiting to watch water seep through the cracks. The High Priestess looks around for more climbing opportunity, just in case, and sees another level above her with a space left around the post again, and knows that she could make her way there if need be. She looks around and sees the few people bracing themselves. Someone cracks a joke.
Then everyone looks out and is silent, waiting. It’s here.