Prophecy Approved Companion

It took all of Qube’s considerable self control not to snap at Sencha Bard. Normally she’d love for a party member to make a suggestion about what they should do — the more opinions, the better! But right now, she wasn’t exactly at her best. So it took a couple of deep breaths before she could speak calmly.

“What are you proposing we do, Sencha Bard?” she asked. She was pleased at how steady her voice was.

“I’d like to use [The Bard’s Ballad] on the Royal family,” he said, his eyes searching hers. Something about his expression made her swallow.

“You don’t look shocked,” she pointed out. “About… what he said.”

The Bard was quiet for a minute, his hand still on her wrist. She felt, rather than saw, the tremor that ran through him.

“I suspected,” he said at last. “Not that the Chosen One had deliberately saved you through breaking the world, but the Golden Prophecy makes reference to his heart being broken before he leaves, with the implication being that it’s his childhood companion that causes this heartbreak. I’d never seen the Golden Prophecy fully written out before, but it struck me immediately upon reading it how deliberately ambiguous it was.”

He finally removed his hand from where it was resting. “That, and several other things that had struck me as unusual at the time seemed to add credence to my theory.”

“I would have thought it worth mentioning this theory to one of us,” Definitely Bad Guy said. Only those who knew him extremely well would have noticed the thread of hurt in his sentence.

Sencha Bard shook his head. “It was so absurd, how would it have sounded if I was wrong? But things like the Shadow Temple version of the Chosen One referring to failing a ‘she’, his abnormally serious reaction to it, her ability to reach beyond the veil into another realm, as well as several smaller incidents, convinced me that it was, at the very least, a possibility. Your inability to break through her invisibility curse, or even properly detect it, was another factor that lent credence to my thinking.”

The Mage seemed slightly mollified by this concession.

“My invisibility curse…” Qube echoed hollowly.

She looked down at the nearly unconscious Chosen One.

She wanted to grab him by his shoulders and shake him until he woke up. She had so many questions! Questions that needed answers! Was she even cursed with invisibility? Or was she a ghost? Was that why she kept making babies out of things? Were those things ghost babies? Had she been making ghost babies this entire time?!

But heaps of ghosts had been visible! Why was she an invisible ghost? His explanation about her being outside the stories in people’s heads didn’t even make any sense! She was right there in the most important story there was: the Golden Prophecy!

What was Sencha Bard even talking about, with his “implication in the Golden Prophecy that she died”? What utter nonsense! Someone, in all the years of studying it, would have noticed if there was even a hint of such a terrible fate awaiting her! If not Alderman, then surely one of the other potential Companions or Chosen Ones!

Unless… like constructs, they’d been bound to their own paths, unable to see beyond their own expectations.

She closed her eyes, visualising the sacred text as it had appeared to her on that fateful day in the village.

“From humble village a Fighter awakes.

Then Evil destroys and his heart breaks.

His childhood companion, his guiding light,

He sets off to make the world right.

He shall find the forest’s heart.

And steal the fire’s guarded start.

He shall make the water cry

Then fall into unbroken sky

And fight the darkness deep inside

And turn away from brightness’ pride.

Then find in time’s endless halls

The echoes of his lost ones’ calls.

To slay what once was so adored

So what was lost can be restored.”

See, it said right there that she was supposed to be his guiding light! How could she guide anyone if she was dead?

Her entire life had been dedicated to becoming the Chosen One’s guiding light, and Sencha Bard wanted to act like she was always meant to die before they’d even left the village?

What would be the point of that? If, following this absurd logic, she was meant to be killed by the Evil Emperor, then that would mean that the Chosen One would have only been possessed for half a day or so before the Evil Emperor slaughtered everyone connected to the village (except, maybe, for Mr. Igma). The Hero wouldn’t even realise the weight of what had been lost! It would have been a massive waste of life — for what? Especially with the information that this was meant to be a simulation for the military! What was the point of adding that to a presumably carefully created narrative?

A sudden memory came back to her from the village. She was stuck in the sky, and the Chosen One, face covered in muddy footprints, was looking thoughtful.

“I don’t like this kind of story,” he’d said, before running off and facing the Evil Emperor.

The Evil Emperor who’d done a very strange performance at one point, that made her pass out from pain.

She squeezed her already shut eyes even harder as the words shimmered before her mind’s eye.

Then Evil destroys and his heart breaks.

His childhood companion, his guiding light,

He sets off to make the world right.

Her stomach churned.

Her entire existence had been dedicated to following the Golden Prophecy. To being a good childhood companion, and guiding light.

If she had been meant to die as soon as their adventure started…

Then why had she been his guiding light? Why had she fought so hard?

What had been the point of her existence?

“I believe getting the Chosen One to a Save Point is a priority,” she heard herself saying. “Subjecting the Royal family to mind alteration is not time critical. His health is.”

How detached and professional she sounded! It was almost like she found out her defining role in life was pointless every week! After all, what good was a dead childhood companion?

Sencha Bard moved, as if to take her wrist again, but stopped when he saw her face. Qube didn’t know what her expression was, but whatever he saw there was enough to make him back down.

“As you wish,” he said softly. If she’d cared to hear it, she would have found regret in his tone.

She didn’t ask why he wanted to use [The Bard’s Ballad] on the Royals.

She couldn’t bring herself to care right now.

Sexy Screamy Spider Briar, who’d been remarkably quiet during the whole thing, picked up the Chosen One and carried him out of the dungeon. Squiggles had clambered onto Sencha Bard’s shoulder, and was giving Qube worried glances. While the mascot may not have understood what was happening, she could clearly sense that something was wrong.

Qube trailed behind, Definitely Bad Guy by her side.

It was odd. Objectively speaking, the fact that their entire world was a simulation for the military should have been a bigger deal. In fact, she could hear Sexy Screamy Spider Briar and Sencha Bard quietly discussing it up ahead. The fact that Qube had narrowly avoided death wasn’t even news: she’d done that heaps of times! Why, she’d taken her life into her hands with every Temple they’d faced!

But for some reason the revelation that the sacred text she’d worshipped her entire life had dictated her death overshadowed the reveal that what they’d taken to be a “spell” was actually called a “tech” in the Devs’ realm. The fact that they lived in small boxes was, admittedly, a little odd, but compared to the whole “you were selected to break the Chosen One’s heart by your brutal demise at the hands of the very same tyrant whose castle you’re currently walking through”, she really couldn’t find herself to care about the whole world situation.

Knowing herself, she’d probably care a lot about it later on. But for now, she shuffled along like a mummy from the pyramids towards the room that had held the guardians.

“I apologise that I did not realise you were free from any curses,” Definitely Bad Guy said from her side, startling her slightly. “I thought, when I could not sense what was causing curse-like effects, it could only be the work of the Evil Emperor.”

“Well, the Chosen One did tell you that the Evil Emperor had cursed me,” Qube pointed out, automatically absolving him.

A new thought struck her. The Evil Emperor hadn’t ever actually cursed her. All this time she’d been mad at him about how inconvenient her life was thanks to his curse, when in truth he’d been completely innocent.

For a moment she was horrified at the idea that she’d been maligning an innocent man, until she remembered that he’d been trying to murder her.

She decided that this fact absolved her of any guilt about being incorrectly mad at him for cursing her.

Thoughts of the Evil Emperor caused memories that had been jumbled and confusing to come rushing back. The strange pantomime the Evil Emperor had done in the village, where he’d grabbed at thin air and sliced —

— Qube staggered, her mind shying away from the memory fragment.

“Are you hurt?” Definitely Bad Guy asked, putting his hand under her elbow to steady her.

“No, but thank you,” she said, reflexively smiling at the Mage. He quickly became inarticulate as she continued to look at him.

The Evil Emperor had meant to kill him, too. When he’d used that curse in Cobbletown’s plaza —

— another memory fragment appeared. The lock of her hair in the plaza. Words echoed from the scene in the village.

“I’ll keep the head. Can’t have you resurrecting your little crutch.”

Ah. He’d decapitated her.

No wonder he’d reacted so oddly when she’d shown up alive in Cobbletown. Even with the [Revive] spell, you couldn’t bring someone back without their head.

He must have been utterly confused when he saw her from his castle rampants. According to the script in his head, she was well and truly dead, only to have her impossibly show up, having (from his perspective) shoved his Mage Advisor through a window in the Wizard’s Tower and then engaged in a staring contest with him. It would be enough to throw anyone off balance, never mind a man already known for being a maniacal tyrant.

That had probably been why he’d brought the lock of hair with him when he’d kidnapped the Exiled Prince and Exiled Princess. Some part of him must have been trying to make sense of how Qube was there. Otherwise, if she’d really died in the village, why would the Chosen One, an interloper in their realm doing a simulation for the military, care about a random lock of hair? It would be pointlessly macabre, and it’s not like it would’ve motivated the Hero.

She really, really hoped the Evil Emperor didn’t have her head in a jar next to his throne. The thought that he might have been carrying around a lock of her hair, waiting for the Hero to return from Lake Fear and hand in the Water Temple gems so he could kidnap the Exiled Prince and Exiled Princess, was already creepy enough.

She would have thought that there wouldn’t be an actual head next to the throne, but he’d gotten the lock of her hair from somewhere. The Chosen One had said the man had stolen it from her while she was unconscious. Now she knew the truth, she’d demand a proper answer.

She didn’t want to accidentally run into her own head without warning.

The pull toward the throne room strengthened.

To slay what once was so adored

So what was lost can be restored.

There was an odd kind of pressure building in her head. Between one breath and the next, she identified it: It was her inner self, trying to break through the thick fog her emotions were safely hidden under.

But Qube was quite comfortable with her current lack of emotions. She was thinking very logically, and had asked herself some solid questions, and was now going to wait for the Chosen One to wake up so she could get more information. There wasn’t any point to feeling anything at this junction. She didn’t even bother trying to act cheerful, or force herself to think of the positives, or anything.

She was merely calmly following her friends into the guardian room, and towards the Save Point. She was doing what she’d been taught to do.

She didn’t need to feel anything at all.

She was just fulfilling her destiny.