Tristan Wren stood at the edge of the forest, his hand resting on the rough bark of an old oak tree, eyes scanning the sky. The world felt strange today, as if something just out of sight was shifting beneath the surface. A cold wind blew through the clearing, rustling the underbrush, and Tristan could feel the familiar tension in his chest—the same feeling he'd had since the day he fell into that sinkhole. He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away, but it lingered. Something was coming, something he couldn’t control.

The village of Greyford spread out behind him, simple wooden cottages and fields dotted with livestock. It was peaceful, quiet—too quiet for Tristan’s liking. In just one week, he’d face the Ascension Ceremony, the most important event in any young adult’s life. His friends seemed to be handling it well, but Tristan… well, he had reasons to be nervous.

"Still thinking about the ceremony, huh?" a voice called from behind.

Tristan turned to see Cassia approaching, her short brown hair tied back, her eyes glinting with her usual sharp humor. She was one of the few people who could talk sense into him when his mind started spiraling.

"Wouldn't you be?" Tristan replied, trying to sound more casual than he felt. "It’s not every day your entire future is decided by a single moment."

Cassia raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. "Please, it's not like you're going to get stuck with something terrible like 'Bucket Carrying.' My uncle got that one. Can't lift anything heavier than a bucket, and it’s only useful at the well."

Tristan winced. "Thanks for the reminder."

They walked together in silence for a moment. In Greyford, most people received a common power during the ceremony. Nothing flashy. Just practical abilities—strength, speed, maybe some elemental control. But for every hundred or so common powers, there was always one that stood out. Something uncommon. Sometimes it was rare, once in a great while, but nothing like that had happened in Greyford for generations.

Cassia nudged him. "Come on, what's the worst that could happen? You get stuck with something boring like 'Plant Whisperer'?"

"That's still better than 'Turnip Tracker,'" Tristan muttered. "I've heard some unlucky stories."

Cassia laughed. "You and Lyle both need to stop worrying. Luck isn’t something you control, Tristan. Just roll with it." She winked, throwing in a pun that was too close to home.

"Yeah, easy for you to say," Tristan said, forcing a grin. "You’ll probably get something amazing like… I don’t know, ‘Quick Reflexes’ or something useful."

"Useful isn’t everything," Cassia said. "Besides, whatever you get, you’ll find a way to make it work. You always do."

"Like the time I tripped over a root and somehow managed to catch a rabbit I wasn’t even hunting?"

"Exactly," Cassia said, grinning. "See? You’ve already got luck on your side. You just need to figure out how to use it."

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Tristan frowned. He wasn’t sure if it was luck or something else. Ever since he’d stumbled into that sinkhole last month, things had felt… off. It wasn’t just that strange glow in the pit or the unsettling energy in the air. Since that day, he’d experienced an eerie string of events—both good and bad—that seemed tied to his every action. He hadn’t told anyone about it, not even Cassia. There was no point in worrying people over something he didn’t understand.

Still, the closer he got to the ceremony, the stronger the feeling became.

They reached the edge of the village, where the dirt path led toward the fields. Lyle was already waiting, leaning against a fence post with his arms crossed. He flashed them a lazy grin.

"Took you two long enough," he called. "Thought you were getting lost in the woods or something."

Cassia rolled her eyes. "We were busy trying to keep Tristan from overthinking everything."

"Ah, good luck with that," Lyle said, giving Tristan a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Overthinking’s what he’s best at."

Tristan sighed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Don’t worry about it, mate," Lyle said, grinning. "Worst case, you get something silly, and we’ll just have a good laugh about it later."

"Or I trip over a turnip and break both legs," Tristan muttered.

The three of them fell into their usual banter as they headed into the village. But even as they laughed and joked, Tristan couldn’t shake the growing unease in his chest. The ceremony was coming fast, and whatever his Fate Roll would reveal, it would change everything.

A Week Later

The village square buzzed with excitement. Today was the day. The Ascension Ceremony. It wasn’t just a local event; it was a tradition that went back centuries, part of the kingdom’s deep connection to the ancient Luck System. The obelisk stood tall in the center of the square, its stone surface etched with glowing runes that shimmered in the morning light. This was where everything would be decided.

Cassia and Lyle stood beside Tristan as they watched the first few youths step up to the obelisk. Each one placed their hand on the stone, and after a few moments, the Examiner would announce their power.

“Strength of the Ox,” the Examiner called, as the young man before the obelisk let out a relieved breath. The crowd clapped politely—common, but useful for farm work.

“The odds of a common power,” the Examiner said for the benefit of the crowd, “are one in two.”

It was understood by everyone that common powers were expected. Greyford, like most villages, didn’t see many extraordinary powers. You could live your whole life without seeing someone wield something beyond the usual. But there were always whispers, rumors of people with rarer gifts.

“The odds of an uncommon power: one in a hundred,” the Examiner continued, as the next youth stepped up. The obelisk glowed, and a moment later, the Examiner announced, “Quick Step. Uncommon.”

Cassia grinned. “That’s what I’m aiming for,” she whispered to Tristan, giving him a playful nudge. “I could get used to being the fastest runner in Greyford.”

Tristan tried to smile, but his stomach was doing flips. The odds were clear. Most people got common powers. Some got uncommon. Rare powers were one in every few thousand. Epic? You’d have to be born under the right stars. As for legendary powers… one in every hundred million? That was the stuff of myths.

It wasn’t the odds that bothered him. It was the possibility of something going wrong. And with the way his luck had been behaving lately, he had every reason to be concerned.

When his name was called, Tristan stepped forward, heart pounding. He placed his hand on the obelisk, feeling the cold stone beneath his palm. The energy thrummed through him, a strange hum that seemed to pull at something deep inside him.

The crowd watched in silence as the obelisk flickered, its runes glowing brighter. For a moment, everything seemed normal. Then, without warning, the light around the obelisk surged, growing brighter, erratic. The runes flared and dimmed, flashing chaotically.

The Examiner stepped back, eyes wide. "The system…" he murmured. "It can’t process his roll."

Murmurs spread through the crowd.

"What does that mean?" Tristan asked, his voice barely a whisper.

The Examiner hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Tristan Wren," he announced, "your Fate power is… Luck Manipulation: Error State."