Scene I – A blasted heath near the coast of Wythmere. Thunder. Enter three Witches.
FIRST WITCH:
When shall we three with fate convene again,
In tempest's howl or 'neath the midnight rain?
SECOND WITCH:
When the red moon doth bleed upon the tide,
And Wythmere's king no longer shall abide.
THIRD WITCH:
There to meet with Elric, thorn-crown'd and cursed,
Whose soul with wrath and prophecy is nursed.
ALL:
Fair is foul, and foul is fair—
Now stirs the wind, and kings despair.
[They vanish. Thunder rolls.]
Scene II – The court of Wythmere. Enter KING ALARIC, aged and stern, with his son, PRINCE ELRIC.
KING ALARIC:
My son, the yoke of state weighs heavy now.
The years have drawn long shadows on my brow.
Yet still I see in thee a stormful flame—
Wilt thou bear crown and kingdom with thy name?
PRINCE ELRIC:
My liege, thy name is thunder, known afar;
I am but flint that dreams to catch thy star.
Yet if thy word command me thus to reign,
I'll take thy crown, though it be wrought with pain.
KING ALARIC:
Beware ambition's venom in thy breast—
The serpent's smile oft hides the deadliest jest.
Rule with the heart, not with the iron hand—
Or blood shall water all this blessèd land.
[Enter a MESSENGER, breathless and pale.]
MESSENGER:
My lord, dire news doth gallop 'cross the moor—
The stars have fallen, omens rent the shore!
A specter clad in flame was seen last night,
Proclaiming doom to come, and endless blight!
PRINCE ELRIC (aside):
So stirs the hand of fate upon my page—
A tale of wrath, of treason, and of rage.
Scene III – A chamber in the castle. Night. PRINCE ELRIC sits by candlelight, reading an ancient tome. Enter LADY MAEREN, his sister.
LADY MAEREN:
What keepeth thee in shadows, brother mine?
The hour is late, and all the stars recline.
Does sleep not grace thine eyes, or dost thou brood
On matters clothed in grief and solitude?
PRINCE ELRIC:
Sleep is a fleeting guest within my hall.
My mind is caught within a grievous thrall.
These pages tell of kings whose crowns were dire—
Their thrones but altars to unquenchèd fire.
LADY MAEREN:
Thou speak'st in riddles, Elric. What doth burn
Within thy soul, and maketh thee thus churn?
PRINCE ELRIC:
Last night I dream'd—a vision black and bold.
Three hags upon a heath, their words ice-cold.
They hailed me "King of Ash," with thornèd head,
And spake of blood, of kingdoms lost and dead.
A sword in hand, but none to trust beside—
All friends but masks, and truth in none confide.
LADY MAEREN:
Such dreams are but the phantoms of thy fear.
Thou art too brave to bow to what's unclear.
The mind, when burdened, conjures wraith and ghost—
But heart's resolve shall prove thy truest host.
PRINCE ELRIC:
Would that I shared thy faith, dear Maeren true.
But omens dark hath painted all my view.
[A distant bell tolls thrice.]
LADY MAEREN:
That bell—what stirs the hour so grave?
PRINCE ELRIC:
It tolls for those who seek the early grave.
Some treachery uncoils its serpent tongue—
Come, sister, let us see what hath begun.
Exeunt.