O, Destined.

That was what they called the Gods in the Old Ages. In fact, back then there were as many Gods as there were worlds; as many fates as there were stars; as many Farthans as there were mortals. And it just so happened that the God they revered was one of the many of their world’s makers.

O, Destined.

That’s what they called it. A being destined for greatness. A being destined to be great. A being destined to foresee all of time: past, present or future. There was no way any mortal could seek to match their God; there was no way for anything to match their God. To be omniscient is to be everything. That is, to be a God.

O, Destined. You are born for greatness.

That was when Varna awoke to the voice in her head. Eyes still closed, she tried to get up off the ground, but found herself pushing against nothing. In fact, there was nothing. She opened her eyes to a sea of stars. A cosmos.

A universe, suspended in time, yet at the same time not.

Finding herself suspended in the air, she initially panicked, but calmed down after a minute or so. She felt the sensation weird, yet at the same time oddly pleasant. She could feel a cool breeze past her body, despite the place she was in. In fact, she could breathe normally. She could feel her feet, her legs, and her arms. Her face wasn’t riddled in tears, and when she looked down, her clothes were entirely different, but neat and tidy.

She was in her Rayan Institute uniform, and it flapped along the cosmos while she was suspended in the universe. That was when she realised everything was moving along her will. When the stars moved, she moved. When the planets turned, she turned. And so, reaching her hand out toward the stars, she turned herself around; or perhaps, the cosmos turned itself around for her.

And was met with a single, black star. A dark star. A black hole, with a ring of starlight which bent and flowed regardless of her movement. Yet, she did not fall into the dark; in fact, she stood there and gazed upon it, as it ate everything within its vicinity with due time.

O, Destined.

It called to her. A voice in her head. A star in her mind, which was ever so pleasant and comforting. She wished to bask in its presence for the next while. But she had to find herself.

“O, Destined.” She responded.

You seek the stars; the meaning of fate.

“I seek for purpose.”

The stars are the purpose; fate is the meaning.

“A purpose like that is too vague, O, Destined.”

Fortune is vague; nothing is set in stone until it has been written.

“Where am I?”

The universe; the cosmos; the stars; the sea of worlds; you are everywhere and nowhere; you are in time and not.

“Am I alive?”

As alive as the other.

“What happened to me?”

You play with fate, and so it plays with you. We play with you. You think this a game, we think a lesson.

“I don’t believe destiny is a game. Human’s lives are not to be trifled with.”

Yet, destiny is not to be toyed with.

The ring of light glowed brighter.

You have sought and we have responded. Do you wish for more?

“I wish for answers.”

Then answers you shall receive; ask.

“What purpose do I hold?”

As great a purpose as you believe it to be. A meaning is only as fruitful as the one who means it to be.

“Then, do I exist to reign over others?”

You exist for yourself. Another exists for themself. A life is not controlled by another; it is simply written to be so.

“Then, why do we control the meaning of life?”

A shallow question.

“I don’t understand.”

You simply request. We simply comply. Merciful is all benevolence.

Varna sighed. It seemed they would be getting nowhere.

“What happened to Kallas and the others?”

Asleep, within the world. Only you are here.

“I—”

O, Destined. Your time runs short.

Varna stammered. She believed the time she had here was infinite. It was not, and now she had wasted a large portion of her time in a back and forth questioning sequence. She groaned to herself. What more could she ask for? Only to realise the gravity of the situation.

What about Kallas? Ellen? Einwald? The children? All this time, she had been thinking of herself rather than thinking of what she sought to do. To save the children from imminent death. So she resolved herself.

“How can I save the children?”

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The ring of light glowed ever brighter.

The red thread of fate; the destiny you hold. It is a power greater than the stars among you.

Something about that sent chills down her spine. Suddenly, she had been told she held immense power, but did she really? And what did that mean to her? Surely she couldn’t use the power wisely.

The destiny in your hands is only as great as you make it to be. The tools are at your disposal; the goal is only as great as your wish.

“Then, am I really enough?”

You are enough.

“Was it my fault?”

The fault lies in the record.

“Do I mean anything?”

As much as the sea of stars.

A sigh escaped from her lips. She was enough. She wasn’t at fault. She meant everything. That was all she needed to hear, even if it was from someone else. Something else. But that didn’t matter; what mattered was that she was enough. And that she could do something.

“Thank you.”

Unnecessary.

Suddenly, the stars began fading of light. The sea of stars slowly turned to nothing, to black, and the ring of light began evaporating into the thin air. The cosmos was turning dark, and she would yet again be plunged into darkness soon enough.

O, Destined. We will be reunited; in the past, present, future, in the sea of stars and the many universes we will come again; you are born for greatness. But, that greatness will only be as great as you will it.

And suddenly, it all turned black.

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

Varna awoke yet again, back to the cool breeze of the Marlyn capital, the cold rugged cobblestone amongst her forehead, and the Scarf laid in her hands. There, she found everyone collapsed, eyes closed and asleep, or similar. She had no time to check.

She looked around and saw them: Kallas, Ellen, the children, and she looked at Brodovar. There, she saw the keys attached to a large metal ring, dangling from his waist and attached to his belt. She quickly pushed herself toward him, still injured, bleeding and bruised heavily, as she crawled next to the sleeping guard. Fumbling and with shaky hands, she tried to remove the keys from his belt. Three attempts, it took, before it finally fell with a clang on the cobblestone ground.

She hurried back to Kallas, whose lock connected to all the other prisoners, and tried every single one of the twelve keys on the ring. With every failing key, she groaned and grew frustrated, mumbling to herself.

“Hurry.” She said in Farthan. “Hurry, hurry.”

Then the lock clicked, and snapped open, and fell down to the ground, and now she had to try again for the lock at his feet. And she did try again, until it clicked yet again, and the lock fell to the ground.

With haste and panic, she shook Kallas awake, who groaned in pain as blood still fell from his mouth. Slowly, he opened his eyes to a blurry world, and saw the figure of Varna before he spoke up.

“Varna?” He said, turning himself over as the city came into view. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He quickly got up and patted Varna down as he scrutinised her wounds. He looked at her with worry without regard to himself.

“Who did this to you?” He demanded. “I’ll make sure they pay.”

She shook her head and turned to the children, before pleading. “No. Help me.”

Kallas looked at them with worry, and turned back to her, arms still on her shoulders. “But—”

“Escape.” She said, dangling the keys in his face. “Let’s go.”

“I…” He trailed off, before agreeing reluctantly. “Okay.”

Kallas grabbed the keys off Varna’s hands, before splitting the metal ring in two using a crack split within it. Varna panicked and yelled at him.

“Why!”

“They each need different keys.” He explained, grabbing some of the many keys on the ground. “They’re all assigned to different cuffs; they have different numbers, one for each cuff. I’ll do the first six, you do the other. Quick.”

Varna paused for a moment, then swiftly agreed and made haste. Together, they unlocked the cuff of each of the children as they slowly awoke. Ellen was first, followed by the rest. Kallas quickly held Ellen in his arms, and Varna shook the rest of them properly awake. Knowing that Varna had little chance of explaining their situation, Kallas took over and quickly took lead—he explained the circumstances to the children, and with little resistance they followed suit.

“Where to?” Varna asked.

“Atlier Road, South Gate. The merchant will be there.” He explained. “You ready?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s go.”

With children in tow, the group of them ran down the Central Road. Perhaps it was because of the adrenaline running through their bodies, but the excruciating pain now felt less than a bite on the arm, and they dashed toward the entrance.

However, just when they reached the middle of the road, was when they heard footsteps behind them. Varna looked behind, only to see Brodovar, whip in hand, and other straggling citizens chasing behind them.

“They awoke!” Varna yelled.

“I know! Just keep going!”

And they kept on running. Some of them stumbled, while others tumbled full on, but each of them came back and helped them back up, so that not a single person was left behind.

“You fucks!” Brodovar yelled, whipping the ground. “Get back here, now!”

“Fuck you, Brodovar!” Kallas yelled back.

And there, they saw the Southern Gate creeping upon them, open for what seemed to be a merchant man finishing his talk to a guard; they were about to let him through, it seemed.

“Royd!” Kallas yelled, and the merchant quickly turned his head to find the group of them running toward him. “Get the carriage ready!”

Royd stared at them for a few moments, before quickly nodding and running back to the carriage. He sat atop a seat holding two horses, and yelled back.

“That’s quite the look you’ve got!”

“I’ve seen better days!” He chuckled, before turning back to the Varna and the children as they approached the carriage. “Quick! Get in the carriage when you can!”

Some nodded, others didn’t but the lot of them quickly jumped into the carriage when they had the chance.

“What the hell are you doing!” Brodovar yelled at the guards, still running. “Grab them!”

They were startled, then quickly followed suit. Unfortunately for them, there was only a single person left to enter the carriage, and that was Varna.

“Royd, the carriage!” Kallas yelled.

“Aiyo!” He said, whipping the horses as they neighed. The carriage shook violently, and the group of them jumped in their seats as they quickly picked up speed. Pulling back the curtain, Varna could see Brodovar and the city pacing away from them at a considerable speed, and all she could hear of him were distant yells.

“Fuck!” He shouted, to no avail.

And then, the city grew smaller and smaller, until it was but a line, a wall which turned into a single dot—and even that turned to nothing. Varna sighed in relief. It was over, finally. Everything was over. They did it. They’d saved the children and would be bringing them to freedom. In the end, it went well.

And then it hit her, the wave of fatigue. The silent exhaustion, which crept up her back and engulfed her in yet another wave of dark. Varna was about to fall out of the carriage, before Kallas grabbed her by the hand and pulled her back. They tumbled onto the carriage wall, Varna unconscious as she fell on Kallas’ chest.

“Whoa there. Close one, hey?” He chuckled.

He said, not realising Varna was now asleep.

“Ah, you’re asleep.” He said, before holding the Scarf in her hand as she laid on his body. “Hey, I know you’re asleep, but… I saw that earlier…”

Kallas pulled back the curtain, revealing sunlight on the dark carriage. He looked back at where the city used to be, then looked back at Varna and the children. Then, he looked at the sky, where the stars were to be at night, where the cosmos were to flow, where time was to be held, and there the God that he saw in his dreams, apparently, resided; and he muttered to Varna, though he knew it would come to nobody in particular.

“Varna… Who are you?”