Dozia and the Witch faced each other, their presence intensified by the roaring cracks of the fireplace, spewing flames that danced and frolicked in the dimly lit cabin. Dozia's gaze was fixed on the table, her finger tapping lightly along its surface, while the Witch, arms wrapped around herself, bore down on her with piercing eyes.

Time seemed to stand still, stretched into an eternity, until finally, the witch parted her lips to speak, breaking the tense silence that hung in the air like a heavy fog.

"Why didn't you tell Oliver the truth?" she questioned, her voice a low, ominous murmur. Dozia lifted her gaze, meeting the witch's intense stare, her own eyes filled with a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

"I've already explained this to you," she replied, shaking her head. "Oliver had just awoken in a strange, unfamiliar place. He was terrified, his fear palpable. How could I burden him with such a revelation when he had yet to fully trust us?"

Her mind wandered back to a few days earlier, when Oliver, overwhelmed by his circumstances, had attempted to flee with nothing but a thin blanket wrapped around him. Dozia had been caught off guard, unsure of how to handle the situation. After all, he was the Deus Imperator, the chosen one, and she was determined not to harm him.

The witch sighed, a gesture accompanied by her hand brushing away dark clumps of purple hair, as she focused her attention squarely on Dozia. "Do you not grasp the gravity of the situation, Dozia?" she queried, her tone a mix of frustration and concern.

"Yes, I do," Dozia replied with a nod, her voice tinged with a hint of defiance.

A sneer crept across the witch's face as she retorted, "No, I don't think you truly understand," cutting off Dozia's words. Frustration welled up within Dozia, her hands instinctively clenching into tight fists.

"Oliver may appear to be a frightened child to you, but the burden he carries, the power he possesses, it's something entirely different," the witch continued, her voice laced with a combination of amusement and disdain.

"He is destined to liberate us, the Deus Imperator," Dozia protested, her voice filled with determination. "It is the prophecy of the Lost Ones and our duty as demi-humans to—"

The witch interrupted, a snicker escaping her lips, and her narrowed eyes bore into Dozia, drowning her in a cold, withering glare. In that moment, Dozia felt herself shrink, reduced to insignificance.

"What do you think will happen, Dozia?" the witch sneered, her words shrouded in an eerie haze. "This is no ordinary lesson or story from a fairy tale. What Oliver is, what he represents for this world, it's something pure and, at the same time, terribly dangerous."

A heavy sigh escaped the witch's lips, laden with weariness. "You're just a child," she remarked dismissively. "The last true war, the cataclysm that reshaped our existence, it happened centuries ago, long before you took your first breath. I can't expect you to comprehend the magnitude of what lies ahead."

Rage ignited within Dozia, her features contorted with fiery indignation. She pounded her clenched fist against the table, the sound reverberating through the cabin like a thunderclap. "Don't lecture me, witch!" she growled fiercely, her palm striking her own chest. "Don't you dare forget that my parents perished in that war. Nearly all the adults in our region fought, leaving behind a generation of orphans."

The witch's face remained devoid of emotion as she spoke, her voice carrying a weight of ancient knowledge. "Tribal war," she murmured, her words dripping with a sense of foreboding. "You have no understanding of what true war entails, Dozia. The kind of war I speak of."

Dozia shook her head slowly, her brow furrowing in contemplation. "Of course, the wars within our region were brutal. Tribes were decimated, ravaged, and enslaved. But trust me, you and your parents were merely caught up in a game of warfare."

"Game of warfare," Dozia repeated, her voice tinged with skepticism. "People died, many people. That's why the Lost Ones were formed—to provide a sanctuary for the orphaned children, a tribe of our own."

The witch regarded her with indifference, her eyes seeming to hold ancient secrets. "You still fail to grasp the magnitude of it, foolish girl!" she exclaimed, her voice reverberating through the wooden cabin.

"You underestimate Oliver, you have no inkling of what that boy is truly capable of. What he can become under the right circumstances. The boy is forged steel, the more he's battered, the stronger he becomes. Trust me, the weak, crying boy you described, the one who attempted to run away... he is nothing compared to the man he will become."

Confusion clouded Dozia's face as she spoke. "So, what is the purpose of this conversation? If we agree, then what..."

"I am attempting to make you understand why it is vital for Oliver to keep moving," the witch interrupted, her voice urgent. "Never stop moving. Like a shark, he must relentlessly push forward. It is imperative that he never pauses, because if he does, he and everyone you hold dear will perish. The false king will not make the same mistake twice."

"The false king, the one who stole our magic. Oliver, he will be the one to bring him down."

"King killer!" the witch exclaimed, her voice booming through the cabin. She extended her hand, pointing it directly at Dozia. "That boy can hardly squash a bug without shedding a tear. Do you honestly believe that he possesses the will to take a life, even in this very moment?"

"No, but that's where training and growth come in. We have waited so long for..."

"You know nothing of waiting," the witch interrupted with a shake of her head. "Centuries of patience, of meticulous planning, have brought Oliver to you. But rest assured, the Deus Imperator will not falter in his quest to confront the king, even if Oliver is not the one... There are other candidates."

Dozia's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean, if Oliver isn't the one? You said during our conversation that he is the one we seek."

"There are other paths, other conditions that can give rise to a true Messiah to wage war," the witch explained cryptically. "If he proves unworthy of the role we have bestowed upon him, alternatives exist. Other tribes, other circumstances."

"You speak of him as if he were a mouse in a maze, an animal to be controlled. And if he deviates from his purpose... you would kill him."

The witch erupted in laughter, a chilling sound that scraped against the nerves like a blade against a chalkboard. "Do you even comprehend what a Deus Imperator truly is?"

Dozia shook her head slowly, her red hair falling in tangled strands around her face. "It's from the old language, right?" she mused. "I know it signifies something powerful, but I can't quite..."

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"It means God Emperor," the witch interrupted, her voice carrying an air of ancient wisdom. "But it holds an even deeper significance. It represents one who possesses the strength of a god, the divine right to rule. Everything touched by the sun and the moon is subject to his will and command."

Dozia felt the weight of the words settle upon her, and she nodded slowly. But the witch, unimpressed, scrutinized her with a discerning gaze. The girl failed to grasp the true gravity of the situation, the profound importance of Oliver and what he would have to become... what he must do.

"What do you think of Oliver?" the witch asked, her voice laced with intensity.

The question lifted Dozia's gaze, and she ran her fingers through her fiery red locks. Her eyes met the witch's, and she pondered her response. "As a believer... or as a woman?" she questioned.

The witch's eyes widened, and she slapped a hand against her forehead in exasperation. "Foolish girl!" she barked. "As a believer, a comrade, a person."

Dozia nodded, considering her words. "Well, as a believer, I think he's a good person. When we first heard the legends of the Deus Imperator, I was shocked to discover that Oliver was... the one," she spoke, her words carrying a mix of uncertainty and conviction. The witch observed her with a blend of uncertainty and neutrality. "Even though he barely knew us, Oliver saved me and the Lost Ones when we were captured. That act gave me faith in him, and I want to serve him."

The witch nodded, a smile playing at her lips as she waved her hand dismissively. "Alright," she said. "That's good, very good. Do the Lost Ones know about his heroic deeds, about how he saved you?"

Dozia's smile brightened, and she leaned forward in her chair. The innocence in her eyes shone through. The witch's smile made her believe that she had pleased the old woman. "Yes, they do!" she exclaimed. "When I shared Oliver's exploits with the Lost Ones—the slaver he killed, the rescue—he became accepted as the Deus Imperator!"

However, the warmth in the witch's eyes faded, replaced by fear. "Wait, you told them that Oliver is the Deus Imperator?" she questioned, her voice filled with alarm.

Dozia nodded, confusion creeping into her features. The witch's eyes widened further, and she slammed her fist onto the table once again, jolting Dozia in her seat. "Foolish girl!" she scolded, pointing an accusatory finger. "All our plans could be unraveled because of this. Don't you understand? The false king is likely searching for the Deus Imperator at this very moment, manipulating events to prevent his demise!"

Dozia stammered, her breath catching in her lungs as she stared at the witch in disbelief. The old woman sighed, her fingers pressing against her temples. Veins pulsed beneath her sweat-soaked forehead. "How many members are there in the Lost Ones? I know your numbers have grown recently."

Dozia rubbed her elbow, trying to steady herself. "Are you asking about warriors or everyone in our camp?"

"Everyone," the witch demanded.

Dozia nodded. "Yesterday, there were somewhere between fifty and nearly a hundred. I don't know the exact count, but it's a mix of children and teenagers. Why does that matter?"

"It does matter, trust me. There might be a silver lining in all of this," the witch spoke, tapping her fingers as Dozia observed the gears turning in the witch's mind. "Make sure Oliver doesn't disclose his identity as the Deus Imperator to anyone. But don't prevent others from calling him such things. If he's questioned, instruct him to deflect."

"Um, okay," Dozia replied. "But Oliver already does that. Being called the Deus Imperator greatly affects him. In fact, he didn't even want a formal naming ceremony when he joined the tribe."

"But the tribe knows of his heroic deeds—saving their leaders, killing the slaver. They recognize him as a savior of Demi Humans, despite his status as an imposter," the witch inquired.

Dozia nodded in confirmation. "Yes, they do. They see him as a hero. Even though he's reluctant, people would lay down their lives for him if they believed the rumors about the true Deus Imperator... his actions speak for themselves."

The witch nodded, her deep purple eyes piercing Dozia's as the girl shrank back in her seat. "If the Lost Ones' exploits spread, other tribes may join their cause. If rumors circulate about an imposter, one who harbors no ill will towards Demi Humans... and if the former members of the Lost Ones spread tales that he bears the brand of the God Emperor, the brand of authority," the witch mused to herself. "Words, tales, and legends can travel far and wide. They can ignite ambition, zealous loyalty, and rally men and women to our cause... we can harness this, Dozia."

A hesitant pause followed as the women's minds whirled with possibilities. The witch contemplated her plans, envisioning multiple paths and expanding possibilities, while Dozia's head spun with the weight of it all. She had anticipated that working with the Deus Imperator would be challenging, that the person she had met, despite appearing weak, was hiding his true strength. But the witch's words resonated within her heart and chest, filling her with an indescribable pressure. Perhaps it was fear, the realization that everything was becoming starkly real. It was easy to talk and inspire others, but the way the witch spoke of the future... it screamed of war.

No, Dozia shook her head slowly, dismissing her initial thoughts. This was no ordinary tribal warfare. The rules they had grown up with would be cast aside. Her mind drifted to the legends and stories she had heard of the ancients, their apocalyptic weapons and the destruction that birthed a new world. Would she be one of those people, a participant in this war? No, this wasn't a conventional conflict. It was a holy war, fought with fervent conviction by the Demi Humans who had lost their magic, against the tyrannical empires that had enslaved them, all aimed at the King to reclaim what was rightfully theirs.

"Prepare yourself, Dozia," the witch uttered, as if she could read the girl's thoughts. Dozia's eyes darted to her, captivated by her words. "Oliver, in his own way, looks up to you. Can't you see it? The way he gazes at you, how he mirrors your actions because they reflect strength?"

Her heart skipped a beat. "He..."

"Yes, he does. Oliver is fiercely loyal to those he cares about, and I assure you he will never betray you. However, you must learn to place your trust in him."

"I trust him," Dozia asserted.

The witch chuckled, shaking her head. "No, you must have faith in what he is capable of. Yes, he may stumble and doubt himself. He'll fumble and wrestle with notions of mercy and compassion. But you must have faith in him... Oliver was trained by his father, and within those teachings lie our salvation and victory."

"Oliver's... father?" Dozia's voice quivered. "I've heard stories about him, and..."

"A monster. Nothing more than a beast walking on two legs," the witch growled. Dozia regarded her with curiosity. The way the witch spoke of Oliver, as if she knew him from before. His father, his abilities, the dark purpose hidden within him. How could she possess such knowledge when this was their first true encounter?

"Yet, even a monster's teachings can serve a purpose," the witch continued, rising from her seat and approaching Dozia. She stood before the Demi-Human girl. "Oliver has chosen to forget many of his father's lessons, likely to shield his innocent, childlike mind. But in this world, the teachings of a monster... can be employed to slay other monsters."

The witch nodded, affirming her own words. "Oliver walks a path shrouded in darkness, Dozia. You will stand by his side as his lieutenant. He needs to unlearn and learn many things, and it shall be the Lost Ones who guide him."

"Unlearn?" Dozia questioned.

"Yes, and learn," the witch replied. "When Oliver was younger, he possessed great skill in various areas—hunting, foraging, camping, exploration. But his father's actions twisted them all. There were also lessons in warfare, which you may have noticed, the peculiar alertness he exudes. The Lost Ones can teach him, but there are other things, such as magic."

"But we..." Dozia began.

The witch hummed, her fingers gliding through Dozia's reddish-auburn hair, lightly tugging at a strand. "You carry the blood of Imposters within you. Your hair is a clear sign of your heritage. You possess skill in fire magic, but that alone won't suffice."

Dozia absorbed her words, recalling Lena's accounts of Oliver's heightened awareness, his keen observation of others when he thought he was alone, never fully letting his guard down.

"Yet, there shall be a test, Oliver's trial to ensure he is strong enough for the journey ahead," the witch sighed. "He doesn't have the luxury of time to arm himself or receive proper training. He must grow."

"What?" Dozia's voice trembled.

"There is something out there, in the forest, waiting for him."

"What!" Dozia's scream pierced the air, her voice resonating with raw panic. She shot up from her seat, her energy so fierce that the chair crumbled in her wake. "What if he dies?"

The witch remained calm, her voice laced with a chilling nonchalance. "Then we begin anew," she said, her words gliding effortlessly through the air. "I shall learn from my mistakes with this Deus Imperator and the next candidate. Let's just say, I'll find a way to refine upon the shortcomings of the predecessor."