Voice-of-the-Gods:
Why… there will be a sound… as the riving of wood… a sound as of thunder coming up from the ground. A cleft will run like a mouse across the floor. There will be a red light, and then no light at all, and in the darkness Thek shall tumble in.
[The King sits in deep thought. Exit Prophet slowly; he begins to weep, then casts his cloak over his face. He stretches out his arms to grope his way and is led by the hand. The King sits thinking.]
Tharmia:
Save us, your Majesty.
Arolind:
Save us.
Ichtharion:
We must fly, your Majesty.
Ludibras: