One-hundred and sixty-eight, such is the count of men – masters and magicians – required to undo a single accidental effort from a single fourteen-year-old girl. A circle had been formed from jade powder and black salt candles. They marked and crossed from each side of the room into a vast pale star. At the centre, a creature beyond terror. An abscess creation of a monster’s nightmares.

No condolence was offered the child, but for wicked glares and whispered prayers. No comfort given to the impossible girl with the impossible power.

The old healer had ushered the Champion... and the Chosen, out of the chamber and back towards her dusty old classroom. The novice textbooks and juvenile assessments still lay undisturbed where Evara had left them. The sheen of dust still lingered on each crack of sunlight though the sparse candles yet acted as the main source of light.

They didn’t linger in the classroom long. Evara was made to gather her books before Kana dragged the pair into her office.

Calling it an office seems reductive. In truth, it was a laboratory. Scientific equipment and ongoing experiments sprawled across the cramped room while spell books and ritual sites lay at seemingly strategic positions within the mess.

“Evara,” the old woman finally sighed. “I cannot offer you so much as I ought to... but I can offer you this.” Her leathery old hands pulled a small burgundy silk cloth from within a pristine marble chest. She peeled back the cloth and revealed within a small circlet.

A silver rim with a single clear golden gemstone carved into its centre.

“We give these to powerful journeymen,” Kana explained as she gently placed it over Evara’s long flowing hair. As soon as the crown touched her skin, a ring of blue runes lit within the metal bounds and Ev seemed to go lightheaded.

“Gods,” Ev sighed. She pressed her weight into her sister’s shoulder as she tried to steady herself. “Is... this how people are... supposed to feel?” She panted.

“Not quite,” Kana whispered, “but it is closer.”

“Are you okay?” Ashtik asked.

Ev didn’t answer for a long moment. She closed her eyes and drew some silent and focused breaths. After a while, she took back her own weight and looked to her sister, saying, “I Don’t... think I’ve ever been better. It’s like... I’ve been dragging a thousand tonnes my entire life... and now I'm free. It’s like my lungs have doubled in size and my heart has slowed to a crawl.”

“I believe the runes will lessen the strain by a small fraction. You should seek out other artefacts like this, the effect will stack.” The old woman collapsed behind her desk. She took her face into her hands and blinked away the excitement of the day.

“Thank you,” Ev meekly said. “I... I have never felt this good before.”

“And I have never felt worse,” the old woman scoffed. “Champion - if it's even worth calling you that - I have something more to say to you. I would prefer that we were alone.”

“If you can say it to me, you can say it to her,” Ash snipped.

“She is a child. I would rather not.”

“It's fine, Ash. I’ll go gather my things,” Ev nodded. She bowed her head lightly towards Kana before departing the room.

“Do you know about the types of magic?” Kana asked once the door was sealed.

“You explained something earlier but... not really.”

“There are many sources for the magics. The type of magic I, and your sister, channel is called a ‘font’. There is the blue font, that of creation. The red font, that of transformation. The golden font, that of holy magic. Then there is the rarest and least useful of them all; the purple font, that of power,” Kana explained from beneath her lightly shaking hands.

“Power sounds pretty useful,” Ash scoffed.

“To a killer, maybe. There is no function to the purple font but as a means for death.”

“That sounds pretty useful for a Champion of war,” Ash insisted.

“But you are not the Champion of War, are you?” Kana sighed. “You are just some... girl,” she said as if it were a slur.

“Maybe, but right now, I’ll have to be enough,” Ash sniffed.

“Ashtik, I saw you using the black font against that beast. The ability to harness corruption itself... Imagine if Evara had access to that power. She would be a battery, supercharged beyond comprehension. Her already unimaginable power would be... infinite. She’d be closer to a goddess than a girl. You MUST find some way to give her the mark... Seek out some power... I beg you.”

“If there is some way to give her this power, I would be glad to, but a dark fate awaits the Champion of Black. Even I can figure that out. I won’t let her die just so that I don’t have to,” Ash coldly said.

“But... It is not just about you or her. It is the entire world, child. If you give her the power she may die, but she will save the world.”

“That's not a worthwhile trade,” Ash snorted coldly. “Fuck the world. Ev lives, and that’s that. I will fight to save Marash. I will give my everything to save you... But you can’t have her.”

“You would let the world die... for one child?” Kana gasped.

“Do not mistake me for a noble hero, Kana. I will kill you all - one by one - if that is what it takes to keep her safe.” She paused to gather some kinder thoughts before her eyes fell to her feet and she said, “I may not have been chosen, but I will fight and – more likely than not – I will die. If that isn’t enough, maybe the next Champion will be better suited to the role.”

“But... if you fail... all will perish – your sister included,” Kana whispered.

“Maybe, but if that’s the case, then I won’t fail.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I won’t let her die. It really is quite simple, to be honest.”

“You’re mad,” Kana accused.

“I’m driven,” Ash corrected.

“I... Pray that you are right, but I suppose I ought to prepare for the end. I have nothing else for you, ‘Champion’. Be gone now,” the healer ordered in a shaken voice. At no point did she look at Ash, nor did she make an attempt to pull her head from her palm.

Ashtik slipped away without a farewell. She sealed the thick oaken door behind herself before crossing the classroom over to her sister. Evara sat behind her desk and scoured over some ancient manuscript in silence. She didn’t notice that Ash had appeared until her sister whispered, “Are you ready to go?”

It caused Evara to startle but she quickly gathered herself. “Aye,” she huffed as she packed away the old leather-bound tome. “Shall we?”

“After you, my queen,” Ash teased. She stroked a hand against Evara’s new circlet as she spoke. The girl seemed unsure if she ought to look bashful or proud, so instead she opted to look mildly miffed.

“Joke all you like,” Ev sighed. “But you know I’m rocking the regal regalia look.”

“Aye. You’ve already got the gown and crown. All you need now is the attitude and a bunch of man servants.”

“Are you implying I don’t already have a queenly attitude?”

“I don’t think queens cry when they get splinters,” Ash snorted.

“Right... It wasn’t a splinter; it was a bloody stake! If I was a Vampris it would have killed me!” Ev whined, looking to the finger that had long ago bore the grievous wound.

----------------------------------------

And so, they left that little room nestled within that far from little place. They left a thousand times the weight they had entered, and yet with a thousand times the pace. Evara, the Chosen of Black, bound and bounced in a literal way that her restless mind had always yearned to be able to do. It seemed an effort of will not to jump down the hundred white marble steps ten at a time. It seemed nought but decorum and manners kept her from breaking into a sprint and dashing away into the horizon. Her lady-like nature strained against her first taste of the raw energy of unburdened childhood.

Kana had said the circlet would offer her a fraction of reprieve, yet it seemed like any more alleviation would strip from her the burden of gravity. That this was the result of a small improvement almost frightened Ash. How much of a burden did the girl truly bear? How much would she change without it?

“Ev, slow down!” She called out. Evara quickly cast the worry aside as she continued to bound down the steps with a face-cracking smile.

“Come on Ash! We’ve gotta get back home. I want to get dinner started.”

“You’ll start nothing but crying if you fall down the stairs,” Ash called again. She quickened her own step to match with Evara, but couldn’t steadily catch up to her.

The crimson day had already begun to fade into the sapphire dusk. The shadow of the great port tower cast over the temple and blotted out what remained of the sun. The lively crowds of the previous day hadn't waned in the slightest. They still shambled along in their half-drunken stupors. They still raved and cackled as they wore the insignias of their chosen warriors.

She wondered if she might catch sight of a little sparrow upon the chest of some young supporter. It seemed unlikely, but a slim hope held fast.

The duo followed along the shadowed trail. They followed a somewhat less direct route in hopes of avoiding the worst of the crowds. There was little of note on the path up until they came upon the old man tugging along an old hand cart.

“Amell?” Ev called out across a quiet alleyway,

“No Amell’s here, dear,” Amell called back. “Just good old Colin. How can I help?”

“Right, sorry,” Ev whispered, clearly embarrassed.

“How are you, Colin?” Ash asked as they closed the distance.

“I’m feeling my age, that’s for sure,” he chuckled. He dropped the two-wheeled cart and its wooden reigns clattered against the cold cobbled street.

“Quite the hall, Ser,” Ev pointed out.

“Aye,” he agreed, “Just some bits and bobs. Should be helpful in Ravenfield.”

“Let me carry it,” Ash offered. She gave him no chance for protest and took up the cart in a single motion.

“I will take it, Spinny. It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to allow a woman a third my size to carry my load.”

“It's fine. Besides, you’re probably still hungover, even if you pretend you aren’t.”

“Well... I won’t lie; I am awful tired of pulling it. Thank you, Ash. How are you two?”

“You should have seen it, Amell!” Evara cried joyously. “Or- erm- Colin.”

“Seen what?” he tiredly laughed.

“Ash... She defeated a Demon!”

“A... Demon?” Amell repeated hesitantly. He looked over at her, newly abashed that he had allowed her to pull his cart. “What happened?”

“Well, we were doing magic and... I messed up,” Ev lightly put it. “Long story short, a big flubbery thing appeared and Ash literally put it to sleep.”

“Ah,” Amell choked. “That... certainly is a long story put short. Mayhaps you might elaborate?”

“Gladly! I’ll have all the gory details when we have our dinner!” Ev enthused.

“Well... Dinner and a show, lucky us,” Amell chuckled.

“Not really a tale for feasting to, Ev,” Ash sighed.

“When else would I get chance to tell everybody?”

“Maybe don’t,” Ash sighed again.

“Don’t be silly! Everyone will want to hear about how you beat a Demon, surely?”

“We nearly died, Ev. Why would people want to hear about that?”

A shiver ran down Ash’s spine as the memory of the thing finally caught her. It was as though the creature had been lingering at the edges of her vision, but she had refused to look at it until now. She saw its thousand gaping maws in between each cobbled stone. She saw its writhing, pulsing form in the fatty rolls of the lifelong drunkards marching around her. Each varicose vein and each drinker’s rosacea reminded her of the stringy legs that had so suddenly shot out of the blue knight’s mouth.

“But we didn’t die! That’s what makes it so entertaining!” Ev insisted. “Tales of near-fatal escapades!”

The idea unsettled Ash, and she must have worn the feeling on her face. Amell gave her a single glance and knew to move the conversation along for the time being, though he was transparently interested in hearing more details of the day's adventure.

“Evara,” he began, “I like your new circlet. It looks enchanted, right?”

“Oh,” Ev said as though half a thought had just been cut off. Her eyes shot up towards the sky in what could have been an attempt to see her own forehead, but sense caught her quickly and she instead opted to run a hand over the metal band.

“Yes. The runes help suppress the corruption within me,” Ev mildly explained.

“I admit, my tutelage on the magics is limited, but wouldn’t you have to be an experienced magician to require such a relic?” Amell asked.

“That... is also a rather long story.”

“Then I expect that this dinner shan’t be a short one,” he laughed.

----------------------------------------

They carried on along the path for a while more. Amell and Ash shared occasional joking remarks while Evara’s musings and tales made up most part of the conversation.

The guards in their southern armour gave them no hassle as they came upon the grand estate. Some remained stalwart while others graced to bow or salute as the trio walked past. The final stretch of the path was accompanied by a new sound. Not the cheers of adoring fans or the rushing winds of the settling day, but the clang of steel on iron. Rhythmic and steady. A hammer on an anvil.

They saw the billowing smoke before they could lay eyes on the hard-working enchanter. As they rounded the final bend, they finally came upon him.

Sujin stood alone in an open-air forgery. He clashed against some piece of near-molten steel over and over. He did not wear the fine apparel he had donned for his visit to the Ducissa anymore. In fact, it seemed from afar that he wore nought but his smithing apron. Closer inspection revealed that his sturdy leather pants were simply hidden by the anvil. It was true, however, that he had shed his shirt as he worked. She saw the rough cotton garb balled up atop a table on the other side of the forgery.

As such a mild man, she easily forgot that he had the build of a blacksmith. A sheen of sweat rolled over his impressively toned and muscled chest. She couldn’t help but notice a single prevalent bead drop from his brow and pool atop his collarbone.

Even from a distance, he looked as hard and angled as the steel which he so purposefully beat. It did not suit his boyish face and almost meek behaviour.

“Sujin!” Evara greeted. “It can’t be safe working without a shirt on.”

“Ah, my apologies. I did not notice that you had returned. I will cover myself,” he blushed.

“Don’t bother on my account,” Ev teased.

He turned around and scavenged his shirt. It was no less impressive a sight from behind. Through the toned muscle, he wore a couple of scars. Not the kinds of scars one would expect for a forger. Long straight slashes, like those given by a whip, lined his shoulders and across to his spine. Aside from that, his golden skin suffered some stretch marks on his lower back and the peak of a tattoo nearly escaped his trousers. Not enough of the design was visible for Ash to make any judgment on its nature.

Stolen story; please report.

“I was just finishing up. I will bathe and join you in the dining room, if that is acceptable?” Sujin said. He wiped away a sheen of sweat with his balled-up shirt before he slid it back on.

“There's no hurry, I haven’t even started yet,” Ev replied, already making for the house.

“Very well. Let me know if there is anything I might do to help.”

“Oh, enchanter!” Amell piped up. “Before I forget, I got you something.”

“Is... that so?” Sujin hesitantly answered. He looked to the old knight with a masked distain but kept a polite smile as the larger man drew near.

“Here,” Amell offered. He held a small rough spun cloth out towards the smaller man, who took it hesitantly. “Something to... bridge the rift.”

Sujin unwrapped the cloth and saw what lay beneath: a small silver hammer.

“My,” Sujin gasped. “I- Thank you, Amell.”

“Does it suit?” Amell asked.

“Indeed, I believe it will.”

“Then let's test it out!”

“Quite,” Sujin said. Half a smile caught the corner of his thin lips while his eyes lapped over the simple tool. “Ashtik, would you be so kind as to pass me the tankard from that shelf?”

She did so wordlessly. He placed the wooden cup atop his anvil and pulled a small circle of silver from a leather pouch. He seemed to consider for a brief moment before drawing a scalpel of the same material as the gifted hammer. He carved the image of a snowflake into the circle and pressed it against the tankard.

The hammer struck a single time but it was enough. The rim of the circle erupted into a fountain of jade sparkles. The sparks seared the edges of the silver circle until they melted and fused with the tankard.

“HA!” Sujin cackled louder than she had ever heard from him. He walked squoze past her and crossed the small open yard over to a nearly ancient well nestled between a pair of pristine sheds.

“It certainly works,” he chuckled as he filled the tankard with water. A sheen of frost spread out from the runed circle and wrapped around the mug, leaving the water within near icy cold. “Thank you, Amell,” he said, much more genuinely.

“Of course. All things other aside, we are on the same side now,” Amell smiled.

“Her side,” Sujin agreed. He shot a strange glance over to Ash which she couldn’t read at all. Empathy, maybe, but also something more... piteous.

“Well,” Amell nodded, “I will unload my supplies. See you two later.”

“See you later, Amell,” Ash smiled. She remained in the forger hut for a moment while Sujin tidied some things away.

“Enchanter,” she finally said.

“Yes, Ashtik?”

“Is there... animosity between you and Amell?” She gently asked. He snorted at the question but regained himself and continued with his tidying.

“Yes,” he plainly answered, though he didn’t look at her as he did so.

“Is it at an end now?”

“An end?” He scoffed. “No, a rift this vast might be bridged with some great effort, but it will never be filled wholly.”

“Might I ask why?”

“I suppose he wouldn’t be all that well known up north,” Sujin realised. “But here... Here he’s a bedtime story. The monster used to make children behave.”

“Really?”

“His campaigns of destruction are the reason the Forgelands are at war with the Bloodlands. Until he came, there was a stalemate. A peace, albeit tense. He was the blood queen’s fist and he punched straight through the Forgeland’s defences. Thousands died by his hands, and hundreds of thousands died in the ensuing war.”

“Amell is the reason you’re at war?” Ash doubted.

“No,” he hesitantly admitted. “He was a catalyst, but not the sole reason. War was likely inevitable but he made it immediate - unavoidable.”

“He regrets it,” Ash defended weakly.

“Indeed. I can see that. He also betrayed Queen Vias some years ago. It does not redeem him.”

“No? Then what would?”

“I... Do not know,” Sujin admitted. “But it would need to be a feat worthy of the thousand corpses at his feet.”

“I see,” Ash said. “Will this be a problem on our journeys?”

“I will never cause you any problems, Ashtik. His reputation, however. I do not know what will happen if you attend the king’s summons with a war criminal at your right hand.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Ash said with a false determination. “But for now, how are you?”

“How am I?” Sujin repeated. The question clearly confused him but he still didn’t stop his cleaning. “I am... well?”

“Is that the truth?”

“Of course, why do you ask?”

“Because I have been consistently dismissive of you. Because I have dragged you along on a suicide mission,” Ash coldly said. She walked crossed the heated forge and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, spinning him in place and forcing his gaze. “Because you are a forger, not a fighter, and yet you were nearly murdered a few days ago.”

“Ashtik,” he mumbled. “I am fine. I have purpose, and if I die, I die for my purpose. There can be no better death.”

“But you don’t have to die. I have your vouch, I can just give it to you now. You have done more than enough,” she offered. Her voice remained cold and steady, but it must have been obvious to the man that it was a lie. That the ice in her throat was strained and forced.

“I am not here for the vouch, Ashtik,” he said ever so slowly. He looked deeply into her eyes as he said it. She realised that it was a look of confusion, as though he thought it was obvious he didn’t care about the vouch.

“No?”

“I was at first, I’ll freely admit it, but after all I’ve seen in such a short span of time with you, how could I leave?”

“All you’ve seen?”

“You walked into a magical inferno and left it utterly unscathed. You commanded a direwolf to do your bidding. You scolded a she-bear and tore a hole through enchanted steel! Not to mention the fact that your sister is easily the most naturally talented magician I have ever laid eyes on!” he enthused.

“So, you remain with us... because we are more interesting than a forge job?” Ash accused.

“I remain because I believe in you. I believe that you are the Champion of Black, and that if anyone will save the world, it will be you. Therefore, I must help you in whatever small way I am able.”

“In whatever way?” She repeated quietly.

“Whatever you need,” he asserted.

“I- I need to trust... someone, anyone... you,” she admitted.

“You do not trust Evara?”

“I am responsible for Ev. I need to protect her in every way. Sometimes that means protecting her from the truth, sometimes that means hiding when I’m... scared,” she said painfully quietly.

“I... do not know what to say. I thought you... I did not think that you, well, liked me at all.”

“I don’t mean to be a bitch. I just... I struggle. I need a friend, a real and equal friend. My Goden and his dreams have warned me a hundred times that you are going to betray me, but I need to know that he’s wrong, that he can make mistakes. I have to trust you,” she whimpered.

“I don’t understand, why do you want your Goden to make a mistake?”

“Because if he doesn’t - if he is never wrong - then the whole world ends because of me.” Her amethyst eyes welled up but didn’t burst. She gritted her jaw and forced her gaze to match his. “If you betray me, then I’ve killed everybody.”

“But you are the Champion, the chosen one. Whatever you do is by his choice, surely?”

“I am the Champion, but I was never his Chosen. The goddess that was supposed to give the mark to the chosen one made a mistake. It was supposed to be Evara... but I got in the way.”

“Then we know that gods can make mistakes,” he hopefully said, ignoring the revelation about Evara.

“A lesser god, maybe. Not the grandfather of existence. The Black Goden is one of the absolute trinity. Being absolute doesn’t leave an awful lot of room for mistakes.”

“I- Do you know for sure that Evara is the Chosen? How could you know?” he questioned.

“The prophecy says that ‘steel will glance’. It means her eyes.”

“That's... it? Of course steel will glance, it's a war. Blades will glance from one another time and time again. Surely this is not enough to make any assumptions?”

The fire crackled behind them as it slowly choked away. A chunk of coal cracked and popped as Ash stood and thought on for a long moment.

“But... the gauntlet. It is powered by corruption; the magician said Evara would be like an infinite battery with it on. It must have been designed for her, right?” Ash seemed to waiver in her dread, but she didn’t seem any stronger for it. Her eyes still wabbled with unshed tears and her lip still quivered with each word.

“In theory, any magician would act as a battery. They all draw from the corruption, Evara is not unique in this. Indeed, she is powerful, but that is not a typical trait of Champions. Your fellows are chosen, not born. The gods pick from exemplars of desirable traits, not from the most naturally gifted in specific fields.” Ash got the impression that Sujin wasn’t so much as talking to her, but merely around her. She was witness to his pontifications rather than subject to his conversation. “But the traits aren’t always obvious. Maybe we could assess you and your sister to find a relevant facet that would be desirable to the Black Goden. Imagination? Melancholy? He is the grandfather of Marash, mayhaps family is his secret domain?”

“Sujin,” Ash interrupted.

“Yes, of course. My apologies. Do you have a note?”

“He’s the Goden of dreams; let's go ask him,” she said quietly though with a burning steel in her gaze.

----------------------------------------

“What is it I am supposed to do, exactly?” Sujin awkwardly asked as he sat atop his bed. It was a far sight from her own. Thrice as wide, though not nearly so ostentatious. A humble frame with humble sheets and not even a curtain to guard his resting modesty.

“Lie down,” Ash ordered. She walked to the basin of tepid water at the far end of his room and washed away some amount of the remaining sludge that refused to abandon her skin. She peeled away the outermost layer of her garments, leaving only the black felt undershirt. She quickly wrapped her lower half in a rogue blanket before peeling off her equally disgusting leather pants.

“Ashtik I-”

“-Yeah, don’t get any ideas. I just don’t want to soil your sheets with demon bile.” She poured one final cup over her hair before leaving the basin and walking over to the bed.

“Might you explain your plan? This seems... unideal,” Sujin politely asked. He shifted across his bed to allow her access before tentatively sitting up beside her.

She was much less rigid. Her wet hair bundled atop one of the sixteen or more pillows while she kicked her legs up next to him.

“I... sent a demon to sleep today,” Ash explained. “An – somewhat more impressively – I forced my sister to fall asleep too.”

“So, you intend on putting me to sleep?” Sujin guessed.

“I am the Champion of Dreams, whether I was chosen for the role or not. I cannot believe my powers are just hitting really hard and really fast. It's about time I found out, right?”

“Very well,” Sujin warmly smiled, lowering himself into the bed. “What do you need of me?”

She did not know. It was not a power she knew how to wield. Truth be told, she wasn’t entirely sure if the power was her own to control. Maybe the Goden, or the voice from the dreams, had possessed her and channelled their powers through her.

“Close your eyes,” Ash whispered. She propped herself up on her right shoulder and skimmed the bedsheets with her steel-clad hand. He followed her command silently. She watched his well-muscled chest slowly rise and fall for a little while. She did not know how to go about using her possible power but she hoped listening to his calming breath would open some locked away facet of herself.

“You know,” Sujin whispered after a short while, “I didn’t expect that the first time I shared a bed with a woman, that she’d be clad in armour and demon guts. Rest assured; I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Oh,” Ash snorted. “I- right. You’ve never... been ‘abed’ with a partner?”

“Well... Not a woman, at least.”

“Oh,” she repeated, only slightly louder. “That is... common, here?”

“As my Lady of Macau is wont to say, ‘nothing is uncommon for the bored and sporting,’ and I am nothing if not sporting,” he said in a timidly jovial way, though he kept his eyes shut as he spoke. “It was my understanding that you were also... ‘sporting’, right? I- I mean no offence, I simply gathered through the tales of spiders and gingers. Cara, was it?”

“Oh, I don’t remember anything about that night. Especially no ginger Cara,” Ash awkwardly answered.

“But you do remember that ‘Tebea’, right? I heard you call out her name as you slept once during our travels. Not to mention the blush that caught you after Amell relayed her message,” Sujin pressed.

“I- guess. I honestly haven’t given it any thought. Slightly bigger problems at the moment, if you hadn’t noticed. Now come on. Sleep,” she ordered, and it was enough. He was asleep. Snoring and gape mawed. Utterly conked.

“Sujin?” Ash eked, fully expecting him to jolt awake and reveal that he was just pretending. He did not. He made no movement, but the quick jolts of a dreamer’s eyes. “It can’t be that easy.”

She traced a metal finger over his cheek. It was as if she didn’t believe it was truly him, but some facsimile placed in his stead. There was something there as her hard gauntlet pressed into the fat of his cheek. An energy. Something tangible, a thread that she could pull if she just...

...Plunged deeper.

----------------------------------------

She was falling. He was falling. The sky was falling but the ground alone held the power to soar and climb. It rushed to meet them, a solid and immovable bedrock of diamond and marble. That was, until her feet made their first contact and the diamond turned to water while the marble turned to snow. She plunged a mile deep before she could manage a grasping, clawing stroke of her arm. It couldn’t be called swimming; flailing might even be all too kind. Her arms fludged about like a gelatinous slime. They seemed as fluid as the waters in which she drowned, and utterly useless as a means for escape.

“Breathe,” something whispered. It was a useless order. How could she breathe a mile underwater?

“Just breathe,” it repeated. It was neither the voice of a man nor a woman. It mightn't have even been a voice in a true sense. It felt like an instinct made manifest. Some sixth sense calling out through her mind and body. It was something true and more importantly, it was something she could trust.

There is a sound nature loves most. It is the first breath drawn by a newborn. It is the wailing cry of a healthy babe of any kind. It is birth, and rebirth.

One after another, after another. The ecstasy of oxygen, lost to those who take it for granted, unrivalled in explosive pleasure. A breath of water deeper than her lungs ought to physically allow.

“You are okay,” the instinct called. There were no words to the instinct, but the warmth of a mother’s embrace. A feeling she ought not to have known, and yet somehow, she recognised it in an instant. “You are afraid. You are alone. You are not true and yet, you are okay,” the feeling lingered. It was nothing external, not a message from her Goden, but a truth within herself.

“Am I the Chosen?” Ash cried out, her words catching in bubbles beneath the waves.

“No,” she knew.

“Can I save them anyway?” She pressed.

“That is up to you.”

“But the prophesy?”

“Was wrong. Nobody is Chosen. Ashtik can be the Champion. Ashtik can be the Heretic. Ashtik is nobody.”

“So, it can be me? I can do this?”

“Nobody is Chosen. Maedri is nobody. Amell is nobody. Sujin is nobody. Evara is nobody. Tilak was nobody.”

Then a voice broke her silence. A man’s voice. “Ashtik!” It was the enchanter, the forger and the betrayer.

“Sujin?” She called out through the boundless waves.

“Wake up!” he demanded.

“Kill him,” the urge demanded in turn. She felt herself barrelling through the waters until she was an inch from him. “Kill him,” the urge persisted. “Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!” it screamed, and she knew it was right. He had to die; he was the traitor and he would betray her.

“Wake up,” he pled. He’d have fallen to his knees had they stood on land. Instead, he snivelled and begged from a meter beneath her. He’d have kissed her shoes and begged the ground upon which she had trodden for mercy.

“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!” repeated and repeated without end and without mercy. A spear formed around her hand. It readied and reared to strike his heart like a raging stallion, but it was her choice and under her control. She had to thrust. It was the only way to keep Evara safe. The only way to keep herself safe. She had to.