Arin meditated in the Spirit Sanctuary for the third day in a row. Eyes closed, mind filled. Their efforts had been in vain so far. Oshwa was by her side, without the Sphere of Visions it was a wonder how he could do his job.

           I can’t focus. I don’t know why.

           She tried to empty her mind. If Oshwa was able to do this, she could too.

           Deep breath in.

           Hold.

           Out.

           She glanced at Oshwa. He was sitting on the grass, eyes shut; mumbling to himself in his dream. Arin ran her fingers through her hair, angered. Scor was taking a nap by the water, trying to meditate as well.

           Arin closed her eyes again, trying to think of a solution to the Abyssal problem. She had no idea what she was supposed to do. Would decapitation work? A thrust to the chest? Light?

           Was she supposed to consult someone? Dargon? Orax? Green Phoenix? A new spirit?

           This was hopeless. Why did the spirits abandon them? Were they doomed to fail?

            “Arin.” She turned around, facing Orax. Several spirits hovered around his massive transparent body. “Come here.” She stood, hurrying to the water. He must have finally heard her internal cry. “You are troubled. Desiring something. I wish to help you.”

            “You can tell me how to beat Abyssals?”

            “There is something else. Something deep within your heart and mind that you have allowed to plague you for so long. A question that you pushed aside. Now I will answer it for you.”

            “I . . . don’t know what you’re talking about.”

            “Why does Mila hate you? Why did the Crimsons hate you?”

           She wiped her icy hands against her pants. Surprised that this was brought up, Arin tried to remain a calm expression. Yes, she was curious but it no longer mattered. Her main focus was the Others now, not the deceased conflict between her and the Crimsons.

            “Do you wish to learn?”

            “I want to do my duty. To find a way to defeat the Abyssals.”

            “This may help. You must trust me.”

            She sighed, “fine.”

           Orax instructed her to sit down. When she was in position, the lights around him disappeared. “You are brave, facing the truth. I admire you for that.”

            “Thank you . . .”

            “Now, follow me. Let us go outside.” Orax turned into blue smoke, racing outside the sanctuary. Arin stood and hurried after him. Almost immediately, Rank Ones raced towards her. She was confused. The kids ran through her body. “You are twenty years in the past. Follow.”

           Arin took a step forward, suddenly teleporting into a courtyard. She almost fell over from such a jolt. Orax reappeared by her side, staring at the two Crimsons training in front of her.

            “Um, who are they?”

            “Mila and Croun, both fresh young warriors.”

            “But Croun is an Other!”

            “Watch. Learn.”

           She watched the two spar. Grunting, shouting, they fought with swords and shields. An instructor judged their movements. Why was Croun training here? She didn’t like this.

           Mila knocked Croun to the ground, aiming his sword at his enemy’s nose. The smirk on Mila’s face, she had never seen such a mischievous look. The students around the two applauded their excellent battle while the teacher began to speak, asking what Croun did wrong. Mila helped his defeated foe stand, patting his back.

            “Good try. Croun, is your name, right?”

            “Um, y—yes, it is.”

            “We should train together more often! Fighting you is so fun!”

           Croun smiled, blushing. Their instructor snapped them out of their small talk, ordering them to go back into the ring.

           The scene in front of her disappeared, fading away like smoke. A new setting appeared. Croun and Mila were in their dorm, laughing. Instead of Rank One shirts, now it was Rank Three. Books in their laps, they were studying aerial combat. They were so happy together.

            “This can’t be the same Croun.”

            “Watch.”

           She folded her arms, obeying Orax. The laughter faded, the room vanished. Now the two were young adults, wearing dark green shirts to signify their mysterious Rank. Back to back, Others attacked from all sides. Swords in hand the two defended themselves.

           Others charged to Croun, weapons ready. The two Crimsons panicked a little. Lifting his hand, a beast from the shadows rose. The monster stood by Croun’s side. The Others halted, horrified by the shadow. Their cloaks did conceal their emotion, but it was obvious.

            “M—monster!” one cried out.

           Croun instructed the monster to charge with a hand gesture. The Others around them fled. Mila lowered his sword, laughing. “Great job!”

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            “I’m not letting them get away!” Croun chased after a small group of them, his shadow summon following. Mila shouted at Croun to stop but was unable to change his mind.

            The scene froze, signifying its end.

            “Is that . . . what an Abyssal looks like?”

           Orax sighed. He floated down the wide hallway, entering one of the rooms. Arin followed, the Others around her turning into smoke as she walked by. Arin noticed the eerie silence in the hallway. No birds or battle cries. Just her boots clicking against the stone.

           The rhythmic noise calmed her, shoulders now relaxed.

           She entered the library. Croun was sitting at a table, someone was standing in front of him. Did he get in trouble? His head was low, hands resting in his lap.

            “Croun . . .” the Crimson began, “when will you try it?”

            “Never.”

            “Croun,” he repeated, clearly upset, “you are one of the strongest here. Please try to merge. You may be one of the chosen ones!”

            “The prophecy isn’t real, sir. Please don’t force me into becoming some false messiah.”

            “Please just try. You have remarkable powers, you’re wise, you perfectly fit!”

            “No. The prophecy is not real, it’s a fantasy.” Croun stood, “I have no interest in this. Forcing me to fight is one thing, this is too much. Leave me be.”

            “But—”

            “I will not change my mind.” Croun grabbed his book off the table and stormed to Arin. The anger in his dark eyes lit them up like fire. He passed through Arin and Orax, running down the hallway.

            “What’s so bad about being a Child of Destiny?” Arin left the library as well. “I’m not a monster, right?”

            “Let us continue watching. Do not jump to conclusions.” Orax chased after Croun. Arin tried to run as fast as him. The great spirit slowed himself, allowing her to match his speed. “They were good friends, were they not? Keep close to your own, Arin.”

            “Of course.”

            They stopped by a balcony, the sun was gone. Stars reigned supreme. Mila and Croun stood next to each other, silent. Their silence told a tale of inner conflict.

            “Tomorrow is the day. Tomorrow we become brother in arms. You though, I hear you may become an apprentice to a general! I wonder who will take you under their wing . . .” Croun remained silent, staring at the courtyard below. “Finally, after so many years, we are ready. We went to the Master Rank too! I sense good things about our future.”

           Croun chuckled, “yeah, like how I’m going to become a ‘chosen one’ and that nonsense.”

            “What?”

            “The only reason I came so far is because of that fake prophecy. You’re the only one here who understands that.”

            “Oh, don’t worry about that. They throw that title at everyone who shows promise and such.”

            “Lucky for you, you don’t have to deal with it. I’m going to be fighting until they know I’m not what they want. It isn’t fair.” He grumbled to himself, trying to control his anger. “Also for the fact that these people rely on a stranger’s words, which have no proof of being true, sickens me. They send children to war over a prophecy which has no proof of being real! We don’t even know what these chosen heroes are called! We just have a vague idea of their most dominant character trait. Like how I’m supposedly wise.” Mila was silent, allowing his friend to vent, “I hate this place, these people, their strategies. For the fact that I experience this pressure shows weakness on their part. We shouldn’t be in this war. This could be avoided. If they weren’t relying on a stupid folklore, none of us would be dying for nothing.” Croun sighed, hunching over. “I think I’m going to leave.”

            “Leave? Go back to the Province? You were drafted Croun, it would be illegal to leave.”

            “No. Not here. but to the Others, the Lugarians. The Crimsons will force me to become some icon, falsely praised. Bound by blade. With the Lugarians, I may be able to live a normal life on a farm or blacksmith like my original dream.”

            “Croun, I would be surprised if you weren’t one of the chosen ones! You control three elements, all you need is a Rainbow Shard and partner. I’m sure it is you.”

            “I already have a Rainbow Shard, just need a partner.”

            “Oh . . .” Mila shook his head. “You really plan on betraying us? Croun, are you insane? Should I get help? Is their dark magic infiltrating your mind?”

            “I’ve been thinking this over for months now. This is the only way for me to live the life I want to live. I promise I won’t fight for them. I just want to work on a farm . . .”

            “Promise me another thing.”

            “Depends.”

            “If you do fight for them, promise me that we will never fight one another.”

           Croun turned to his friend. For a long moment, the two young men stared at each other. Croun smiled, breaking the silence, “I promise. You promise me that you won’t fall victim to these false prophecies.”

            “You really don’t want me to believe?”

            “The prophecy is nearly a century old with no sign of the chosen ones. I want you to be smart and not gullible. I was always the smart one, now you have to fill in my role too.”

            “I’ll look into it.” Mila turned away, “so . . . this is good-bye?”

            “I don’t know, I hope not. Maybe one day, if this war ends, we can see each other again.”

            “Like when we were silly Rank Ones.” They laughed. Croun cleared his throat, taking a step away. “I should go now. I have a long journey ahead.”

            “How will you get there?”

            “A dragon, who shares the same mindset as me, offered to take me.”

           Mila frowned, folding his arms. “I see. Well . . . good luck out there. If they try to torture you, you can always come back.”

            “Thank you, Mila.”

            They hugged.

           Arin sighed, turning to Orax. He faced her as well. Croun clearly didn’t get what he desired. Now they were both kings, bitter to one another. Divided by duty, their friendship died by their blades. It was sad. Could she abandon her friends just to escape destiny?

           Orax left the balcony, floating down the hall. Arin watched the two for another moment before following.

            “What happened next?”

            “Croun and Mila grew distant. I’m sure you can guess that Croun was enlisted, becoming belligerent towards Crimsons. Both rose through the ranks, until they finally reached kingship. They met in battle, a sad day for them both.”

            “This doesn’t answer the question as to why Mila hates me.”

            “He blames you for the loss of Croun, his only human friend. The prophecy, the Plaque Reader, humans from the Reality Dimension coming and saving the world. The same humans that drove these people away. Croun was forced to leave him since he thought he fell into that category. He was angry that you existed, since he was hoping you were a legend. So that the war may end and his friend could come home. Do not blame yourself, none of this is your fault. Croun could never return.”

            “I was told that someone who pretended to be the Plaque Reader killed his father.”

            “That never happened. Mila used several lies to justify his anger towards the prophecy. The things I have shown you are truth. He tells none what happened and trusts—” The vision around her began to fade, Orax’s body blurred. “You are waking. Perhaps I have kept you long enough.”

            “Thank you, Orax. Although this is not what I needed to know, I’m glad you taught me this.”

            “There are many more things you will learn during this war. Hopefully I will be able to teach you again soon.”

            “I hope so too. Thanks again, for all of this.”

           Orax left, floating away. The scene around her caved into darkness. The familiar cold black offered relief. Things were going to get better. Deep down, she knew it. Perhaps what she just witnessed was the key to victory.