Cracks sprouted up the impenetrable stone walls like rapidly growing trees. There wasn’t much time left. Soon the whole island would crumble back into the sea.
“We have to hurry!” the high priestess cried.
Carmon, gray in beard and clothes glared at her. “We can’t, Mia. If we rush the ritual there will be nothing left for those who come after us.”
Mia ignored him. “Bearer’s come forth.”
Three women and one man marched to their places, swaying unsteadily on the ground that heaved at their feet. Each one solemnly carried a melon-sized stone to the stone altar.
“Who will bring forth our power to rebuild and to reclaim?” She asked.
“We will.” the four answered.
“I bestow upon you the might of our people, the base from which all power comes. Earth, Wind, Fire, and Water.”
Each stone began to glow at her words.
“Go and prepare-”
The rest of her words were cut off by a mighty roar as the temple ceiling came crashing down in cyclopean shards, burying people and orbs alike. They had failed. Hope was lost.