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When a community faced decision requiring knowledge of future outcomes, when a warrior needed to know his fate before battle, when a family sought understanding of which child would inherit which doom, they sought the prophetic women. The consultation followed specific protocols, not ritual for ritual’s sake but practical necessity for accessing the sight.
The seer would prepare herself—fasting perhaps, entering isolation, waiting for the proper state of consciousness. When ready, she would call for the consultation. The questioner would come (or be brought), would state their question clearly, would offer payment (food, silver, goods—the seer must eat though she did not farm).
The seer might cast lots—carved sticks or bones thrown onto cloth, their patterns revealing what was hidden. Or she might read runes—the sacred symbols that encoded cosmic principles, each configuration revealing different aspect of wyrd. Or she might simply enter trance, her body rigid or convulsing, her voice speaking words that came from elsewhere, describing what she saw in the patterns that others could not perceive.
What she spoke was not advice or suggestion. It was statement of what would be. “You will die in battle.” Not “you might die” or “if you are not careful”—simple declaration of woven fact. “Your son will betray you.” “The harvest will fail.” “The enemy will not attack this year.” The statements were absolute, delivered without comfort or interpretation.
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