EliteEmotionalArt

     “Prophesy for us, Yehali, Prophesy!” Imyrk struck the Yehali with his foot. “We will hear it from your own black lips. Give us the will of your…god.”     The crouching figure did not stir for a moment, his grizzled head bowed against his knees. Then, almost imperceptibly at first, he began to shudder.     Imyrk stared at him, eyes bright with revulsion. He waited.     Suddenly the prophet laughed aloud, throwing back his head to glare into the Vhllyv’s eyes, and his own eyes glittered, as the eyes of a crow. “Prophesy, eh? Prophesy? Why should I, Vhllyv? White lord, White priest, ruler of the