Many years passed, and the world stayed more or less the same, with nothing to suggest that the vision was real. New reigns picked up when old kings died, and life went on.
When the change came, it was gradual. Almost unnoticeable at first.
It began with
It was ironic, really. Everything begins and ends with red.
And now, it was gone. It bled through the holes in the fabric of reality, the fissures that had been festering since the time of the last Aruspex, and her prince, growing bigger as humans ruined the world. Wars were fought, men were killed - many men. Humanity was drained of colour long before the world was.
It started with red, but the other colours quickly followed:
anything and everything in between just flushed away like water down the drain, colours running in rivulets, a rainbow that left the world dark, and cold.
And thus the first prophecy came true. The people tried everything to win this battle for colour. There was mass panic - riots and looters galore. Nothing worked to halt the process.
'Too late to stop it.'
In time, people got used to a world without colour, the
meaning nothing but normality. Years passed, until 'colours' were just a story told to little children, until nobody who remembered a world of rainbows was still alive. Many more years flew by, until all adults no longer believed that 'colours' had even existed. They smiled and shook their black and white heads as their black and white children pretended to be colourful. Life went on, humans adapt to whatever situation they find themselves in, until even the stories all but died out.