Updated: Aug. 19, 2024, 6 a.m.
Caramon Majere trudged through the dense forest, the moonlight casting eerie shadows on the path before him. The weight of the Horn of Summoning hung heavily at his side, a reminder of the task that lay ahead. The Moonsea, a place whispered of in legends and feared by many, was said to be the dwelling of an ancient oracle. Caramon's heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and trepidation as he neared his destination.
The trees began to thin, revealing the shimmering expanse of the Moonsea. Its waters, dark as the night sky, seemed to pulse with a life of their own. Caramon's breath caught in his throat as he stepped to the shore, the Horn of Summoning now feeling like a leaden weight. He knew that once he blew the horn, there would be no turning back.
With a deep breath, Caramon raised the horn to his lips and blew. The sound that emerged was haunting, a mournful note that echoed across the waters. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, the surface of the Moonsea began to ripple, and a figure emerged from the depths.
The oracle was an ethereal being, her form shifting and changing like the moonlit waves. Her eyes, deep pools of wisdom, locked onto Caramon's. "You seek counsel, warrior," she said, her voice a soft whisper that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
Caramon nodded, feeling the weight of his quest. "I seek guidance, great oracle. My path is shrouded in darkness, and I fear I am not strong enough to face what lies ahead."
The oracle's gaze softened, and she extended a hand towards him. "Strength is not always found in might, Caramon Majere. Sometimes, it is the heart that holds the greatest power." She gestured to the waters of the Moonsea. "Look into the depths, and you will see what you seek."
Caramon hesitated for a moment before stepping closer to the edge. He peered into the dark waters, and as he did, images began to form. He saw his brother Raistlin, his face twisted with pain and anger. He saw battles fought and lost, friends fallen, and a world teetering on the brink of chaos. But amidst the turmoil, he saw a light – a beacon of hope that shone brightly.
The oracle's voice broke through his reverie. "The future is ever-changing, Caramon. The choices you make will shape the path you walk. Trust in yourself, and in the bonds you have forged. They will be your strength."
Caramon looked up, his heart a little lighter. "Thank you, oracle. Your wisdom is a gift I will carry with me."
The oracle nodded, her form beginning to fade back into the waters. "Remember, Caramon Majere, the future is not set in stone. It is the whispers of fate that guide us, and it is our choices that define us."
As the last traces of the oracle disappeared beneath the Moonsea, Caramon felt a renewed sense of purpose. The path ahead was still fraught with danger, but he no longer faced it alone. With the oracle's words echoing in his mind, he turned and began the journey back, the Horn of Summoning now a symbol of the wisdom he had gained and the strength that lay within.