The forest is spooky. Like the kind you read about in stories where someone is definitely getting cursed before the chapter ends.

Bob insists we’re on the right path. But I’m not holding my breath.

“Greg,” he says, his voice hushed, like he’s about to say something deep. “Do you feel that?”

I stop, gripping my spear. “Feel what?”

“The destiny. The energy. The sense that we’re about to stumble upon something incredible.”

“No,” I say flatly. “I feel mud in my boots and regret in my soul.”

Bob doesn’t answer. He’s too busy pointing ahead, where the trees open into a small clearing. In the center is a rickety wooden platform, and sitting cross-legged on it is a figure cloaked in shadow. A staff leans against her shoulder, and her hood is so deep, it’s basically wearing her.

“Greg,” Bob whispers, his voice trembling with excitement. “It’s an oracle.”

“Great,” I say. “Because what we really need right now is cryptic nonsense.”

We step closer, and the figure lifts her head slightly. Her voice is low and gravelly, like she’s been gargling gravel tea. “Who dares approach the Oracle of Everlasting Knowledge?”

“Uh, hi,” Bob says, bowing. “It is I, the Chosen One, and my friend, Greg.”

“Don’t introduce me,” I hiss. “I’m just here for moral support.”

The oracle raises a hand, stopping us in our tracks. “Before I share my wisdom, you must solve… the Riddle of Truth.”

Bob gasps. I groan. Of course, there’s a riddle. There’s always a riddle.

She pauses for dramatic effect, then speaks: “I speak without a mouth. I hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?”

Bob claps his hands. “I know this one! It’s… um… destiny?”

“No,” I say, rubbing my forehead. “It’s an echo.”

The oracle doesn’t react. She just sits there, unmoving.

Bob frowns. “How do you know?”

“It’s a classic riddle,” I say. “Everyone knows it.”

“Well, maybe the answer is destiny,” he says, crossing his arms. “You don’t know her life, Greg.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Are you serious right now?”

“I’m just saying,” Bob says, puffing up his chest, “she’s an oracle. Maybe it’s not the obvious answer.”

I turn to the oracle. “It’s an echo, right?”

She tilts her head. For a second, I think she might actually speak. Then, she just… shrugs.

Bob’s jaw drops. “What kind of oracle shrugs?”

“She’s probably waiting for us to figure it out,” I say.

“Or maybe,” Bob says, pointing at me, “we’re supposed to be the answer.”

I stare at him. “How would we be the answer, Bob?”

“I don’t know! Maybe it’s metaphorical.”

The oracle clears her throat. “No, it’s an echo.”

I blink. “Wait, really?”

“Yes,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “That’s the answer. Can we move on now? I have things to do.”

Bob looks deflated. “That’s it? No glowing lights? No epic reveal?”

“I’m an oracle,” she says. “Not a special effects team.”

“Fair enough,” I say. “So, what’s the deal? Are you going to tell us our destiny or whatever?”

The oracle leans forward, her shadowy hood slipping just enough to reveal what looks like… purple sunglasses? “First, payment.”

Bob looks like she just slapped him. “Payment? Payment?? You’re a legendary oracle! You can’t charge us! That’s against the rules of literally every fantasy ever written!”

“Bob,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Let’s just see what she wants.”

The oracle tilts her head like she’s thinking. “Bring me… a pastry.”

Bob’s jaw drops. “A pastry? Are you serious?”

“She looks serious,” I say, already digging into my pack. “Do you have a preference? Honey cake? Meat pie?”

The oracle smirks. “Surprise me.”

Bob practically shakes with frustration. “Greg, no! You can’t bribe an oracle with a pastry! She’s supposed to test us with riddles and trials! We’re supposed to earn her wisdom, not buy it like we’re at a village bakery!”

“Calm down, Bob,” I say, pulling out the only thing I have left, a slightly squished jelly-filled donut. I hold it out to her. “Will this work?”

The oracle snatches it with alarming speed, cradling it like a sacred artifact. She takes a slow bite, her hood shifting just enough for me to catch a glimpse of what I’m sure is a smug grin. “Ah, yes. This pleases me.”

Bob looks like he’s about to explode. “Greg, this is against the heroic code! We’re supposed to be noble and brave, not… donut delivery guys!”

“Bob,” I say, gesturing to the oracle, who’s now lounging on her platform like she’s just been served a royal feast. “Does she look like she cares about your heroic code?”

“I don’t care about his heroic code,” the oracle confirms between bites. “Now, on to business.”

Bob throws up his hands. “This is ridiculous! What happened to the mystery? The drama?”

The oracle burps. Loudly. “Mystery doesn’t feed my sweet tooth, sweetheart.”

I have to bite back a laugh as Bob glares at both of us. “Unbelievable.”

“Now then,” the oracle continues. “You need to find the Amulet of Slightly Above Average Power.”

Bob gasps. “The legendary artifact!”

“Legendary might be a stretch,” she says, adjusting her sunglasses. “It’s in the Swamp of Eternal Squishiness.”

Bob looks like he’s about to faint from excitement. “A swamp? Eternal squishiness? This is the stuff of legends!”

I groan. “Great. Because nothing screams ‘fun’ like wading through mud and mosquitoes.”

The oracle points toward the horizon. “Go forth, heroes. Your journey awaits.”

“Thank you, oh wise oracle!” Bob says, bowing so low he nearly falls over.

As we walk back toward the forest, Bob is practically bouncing with excitement.

“The Amulet of Slightly Above Average Power,” he says, his voice full of wonder. “Greg, this is it. This is destiny.”

I glance back at the clearing, where the oracle is now reclining on her platform, picking crumbs off her cloak. “Destiny’s weird,” I say.

And with that, we head off toward the swamp.