“The what now?” I asked, unsure I heard her right.

“The son, promised in the song.” Lilla had a dire serious look in her eyes. “I don’t know what it is, Danny, but I believe you’re more special than anyone realizes.”

Oh, give me a break.

Shut up, screenie.

No, really. Despite what your mother thinks, you’re not special.

Do you have an asshole setting? Perhaps we can dial it down?

I can’t believe it took your this long to ask…

I did ask! I specifically remember asking if you had personality settings.

You did. But as is your way of things, you didn’t follow through.

Well, consider this me following through. Be less of a dick.

Your wish is my command.

That’s it?

Yep.

Bullshit.

Honest.

I was at a complete loss for words… and the fact that Screenie didn’t pipe up with a comeback like “you’re at a loss for a lot of things” made me feel oddly… relieved.

I’d been in this strange world for months, and apart from an hour or two of getting the silent treatment, Screenie hadn’t left my side once. Even then, I knew he was still watching and silently judging my every move. I’ve endured endless ridicule from both him and Curr, not to mention anyone else who heard I was a bard. Now, all it took was a simple request and the omniscient, omnipresent voice in my head was going to be nice?

Yes.

Wow.

And just so you know, I am not omniscient. There’s plenty I don’t know.

It seemed that along with turning down the screen’s sarcasm meter, it had also made him more honest.

I am also not a “he.”

Since Screenie might have been willing to offer some real answers, I figured this was my chance to ask. However, I’d just had a bomb dropped on me by Lilla, so it would have to wait.

“The promised son?” I asked. “What does that mean exactly?”

“I truly don’t know,” she admitted. “But that song was perhaps the first thing I’d ever heard. It is sung during childbirth to bring a sense of calm and peace to the women.”

“And you think it’s about me?”

“I won’t claim to be an expert in prophecies, nor am I old enough to have truly grasped the fullness of the Seven Stars—”

“The Seven Stars,” I said, interrupting. “I’ve heard that a lot, but I don’t know what it is.”

“The Seven Stars are everything.” She leaned in close to me and pointed upward to the inky black sky above.

It’s incredibly difficult to explain just how dark the sky was. And it’s also hard to explain what the darkness does to all other senses. Before coming to Aethonia, I would have thought this kind of night would have enhanced my other senses. I’d always heard that blind people have a heightened hearing or smell or whatever. But in this case, that wasn’t true.

As dark as it was, every other sense was almost dampened. I could always hear animals and things in bushes, but the darkness made it more confusing. Without being able to see the brush, determining just exactly where the sounds came from was nearly impossible.

Perhaps someone more adept at tracking might have had less trouble…

I waited for Screenie to make a witty remark, but none came. For a moment, I feared I had put him—or it—in silent mode again.

You can still call me a he. I am beyond simple pronouns, and I am not offended by the use of such words.

“The Seven Stars…” Lilla identified a cluster of bright lights above, “… are the spirits of the seven prophets.”

“I thought they were goddesses?”

She eyed me, a puzzled look on her face. “Where did you hear such a thing?”

Screenie?

It appears I was incorrect. It happens on occasion, and for that, I offer my sincerest and most heartfelt apologies. Though I am pleased to know you’ve been listening.

“I… I don’t know,” I said, not wanting to admit to having a floating screen. However, the fact that Screenie had been wrong made me question so much. All this time, I assumed the information he had been feeding me was absolute truth about this world. Now, I wondered how much—if any—could be believed.

Rest assured, you can trust my words. It’s just that Alyndis is mysterious and little of their history is truly known beyond their kind. Once again, I am truly regretful and embarrassed to have fed you disinformation, as unintentional as it was.

I supposed it could have been an honest mistake.

Lilla was still talking, and I feared I might’ve missed something important.

“Each of the prophets gave us a small piece of the puzzle whose completion we now seek. As I said, I am no scholar in the matter, but most of our brightest minds believe the first six prophecies have been fulfilled, and now, all we wait upon is the final.” She was quiet for a long moment, and I gave her the time she needed to continue. “I don’t know why, but I believe you are the one. You will fulfill the promise of the son.”

I let that sink in, though I felt like I could have waited a million years and the weight of her words would have never fully impacted me.

“The son of what though?” I asked.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“The son of Alyndis, of course.”

“But I’m not an elf.”

Lilla’s face scrunched up. “That’s true. But the ancient texts are clear—at least I believe they are. They say the Promised One will be ‘not be a child of Aethonia.’ I’m embarrassed to admit that hundreds of years ago, when your king’s ancestor ravaged our lands, it was because we believed him to be that—our salvation. The fulfillment of the seventh prophecy.”

All this talk of prophecy had me confused. Back on earth, only religious nuts and whack-a-doodles with crystal balls believed in such nonsense. But here, I don’t know, maybe it was because I was in a world where magic was undeniably real, I didn’t feel like she was crazy for talking about it.

“So what do I do?” I asked, my voice quiet and meek. I couldn’t deny the tremendous burden I felt on my shoulders. She thought I was some kind of… Aethonia Jesus or something.

“In truth, I don’t know. Until the time comes, we may wallow in confusion. One thing is certain, you have the lute, and it seems the lute has taken to you.”

“And that’s never happened before?”

“Not in a great many centuries,” she admitted.

Wow. I couldn’t help but feel like I’d just completed my quest to find my purpose, but since Screenie didn’t provide his typical OBJECTIVE COMPLETED, I knew there had to be more.

“We have to find whatever fits in this hole,” I said, pointing to the empty space on Roxanne’s headstock.

Again, Screenie missed a prime opportunity to insert a sick sex joke.

Does not compute.

Huh. You really have changed.

“Danny,” Lilla said softly. I loved hearing her say my name. “Could I ask you something?”

Electricity coursed through every fiber of me. I swallowed hard. She was so close, her breath hot against my face and neck, her hair tickling my beard.

“Yes?”

“You’ve played my song. Would you play something of yours? Something that reminds you of home?”

My heart sank. It was an honest request, and even one that made me happy to hear. But it wasn’t quite what I was hoping for. Besides, what was I going to play? I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I doubted something like Wonderwall by Oasis would translate.

Then a weird memory popped into my head. It wasn’t a fond one in retrospect, but it reminded me of where I was from, and honestly, one of the main reasons I think I’ve been drawn to music my whole life.

When I was little, my dad worked a lot. Really, I don’t even know if he was working. Could have been at a bar. Maybe he even had a second family somewhere mom and I didn’t know about. He wasn’t the best role model.

That meant I spent a lot of time alone with my mother.

THAT MAKES TWO OF US!

Whoa! What the hell, man? I thought we dialed your settings down.

You have no idea the restraint I’ve been showing. Of course I don’t have personality settings! Do you think you could turn down your weak-little-pussy settings?

No. I didn’t think so.

That was cruel.

I knew Screenie could hear my every thought, but part of me was relieved. I’d gotten used to him at this point, and it was odd not hearing his little jabs.

Awwww. I love you, too, Danny boy. Now, get back to telling me how you used to bang your mom when your father wasn’t around.

That was not my story.

Anyway, because we spent so much quality time together, we had a special bond. And no, not like that. We used to dance in the living room to the same song almost every night. What I didn’t realize until I was older was that she’d always secretly wished I had been born female.

You’d have made one hella ugly girl.

Ignoring Screenie, I started picking out a melody. I started slowly, because as I’ve often lamented, a lute is not a guitar. While a lot of things came naturally with Roxanne, I still was no ancient stringed musician expert. Once I found the right chords, I began to sing.

I've got sunshine, on a cloudy day

When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May ooh

I guess you'd say

What can make me feel this way?

My girl, my girl, my girl

Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl

I've got so much honey, the bees envy me

I've got a sweeter song, than the birds in the trees

Well, I guess you'd say

What can make me feel this way?

My girl, my girl, my girl

Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl

Ooh, ooh

Hey-hey-hey, hey-hey-hey

Ooh, ooh, yeah

I don't need no money ooh, fortune, or fame

I've got all the riches, baby ooh one man can claim

Well, I guess you'd say

What can make me feel this way?

My girl, my girl, my girl

Talkin' 'bout my girl, my girl

I even did the little backup vocal parts.

Talkin' 'bout my girl

I've got sunshine on a cloudy day whoa, whoa with my girl

I've even got the month of May, with my girl talkin' 'bout my girl

Talkin' 'bout, talkin' 'bout, talkin' 'bout my girl

“That was—”

So... fucking...

“—beautiful,” Lilla said.

Oh, please.

I set the lute aside, being careful not to scratch her wood against the tree bark.

Your relationship with Lilla has increased.

“Why did you choose that song?” she continued.

“My mother used to play it for me,” I said.

“Oh.” Lilla’s tone betrayed what I thought might have been disappointment. Had she been hoping it was a song about her? Before I could consider that possibility, she said, “She was a musician too?”

I considered how best to answer her. As far as I knew, my mom had no musical talent. My father, on the other hand, had played drums throughout his early years until drugs and drinking ruined his life and he got so beaten down by the world that he stopped.

But how did I explain to an elf from Aethonia what a cassette tape was? I didn’t want to lie to her.

“Something like that,” I said.

“Where are you from, Danny the Bard?” Her eyes grew narrow, but not so much like she was suspicious as curious.

The question caught me off guard, and it was so point blank, I didn’t know how to avoid it.

What was it now? Bel-Air?

“Well, the truth is—”

“Danny!” Curr’s deep voice broke through the woods.

Saved by the braug.

I didn’t want to be interrupted. I was going to finally tell someone the truth.

What’s stopping you now? If Curr hears it, you’ll complete a task.

If Curr hears it, he’ll know I’ve been lying and use my bones for toothpicks.

“We are over here,” Lilla responded.

Curr shoved his way through the underbrush, hands over his eyes. Then I saw him spread his fingers a little to peek through.

“What are you doing?” I asked, exasperated.

“I had feared I might find you disrobed and engaged in coitus.”

“Curr!” I shouted, but Lilla was laughing.

“He is no so lucky.” She glanced over at me. “Tonight.” She winked, stood, and started off toward Curr. “Perhaps we will finish this conversation another time. Thank you for the song.”

“You… you don’t have to leave,” I said, trying not to sound like I was begging.

“It is getting late,” she said. “I plan to take first watch.”

I began to rise as well, then thought better of it.

Seems part of you didn’t get the memo.

I hate you.

“Watch for what?” I asked. “I thought the woods were safe this close to the city.”

“The woods are never safe,” she said. “There are still wolves and bears, and other unthinking beasts.”

“Oh.”

“Goodnight, Danny the Bard.”

She disappeared through the trees and Curr plopped down beside me.

“It is good seeing you and the elf become friends,” he said, pulling a snack of some kind from the pouch at his side. It looked like moldy bread. He offered it to me, but I waved it off, trying not to make a face. He looked past me to Roxanne. “I do hate to hear you were serenading her. That will not aide you in your efforts to bed her.”

“I am not trying to bed her,” I said.

Sure. Keep lying to him.

“Right,” Curr said with a coy smile.

“You know, I’ve gotten a lot better.”

“At?”

“Playing the lute.”

Curr sighed. “I do not like lying, Danny.” I thought he was being his normal, accidental, insulting self for a moment until he said, “So I must agree.”

WOW.

Your relationship with Curr has increased.

You sure are a man of the people!

“Really?” I asked.

Curr nodded. “You are still not good. But you have, indeed, improved. Your playing aided us in the battle against the troll. I do not understand why, but I cannot deny it.”

“Thanks, Curr,” I said, reaching for Roxanne. “Would you like me to play you something?”

“Tarton’s tusks, no!” He stood. “I was just coming to let you know that dinner has been prepared. Please, do not play or sing.”

He put his hands over his ears and rushed toward the woods.

Some things never change.

And aren’t you happy for it?

Personality settings… how stupid.