King Karnos:

How?

Voice-of-the-Gods:

Why... there will be a sound... as the riving of wood... a sound as of
thunder coming up from the ground. A cleft will run like a mouse across
the floor. There will be a red light, and then no light at all, and in
the darkness Thek shall tumble in.

[The King sits in deep thought. Exit Prophet slowly; he begins to
weep, then casts his cloak over his face. He stretches out his arms
to grope his way and is led by the hand. The King sits thinking.]

Tharmia:

Save us, your Majesty.

Arolind:

Save us.

Ichtharion:

We must fly, your Majesty.

Ludibras:

We must escape swiftly.