Book 1: Chapter 18 - The Uncertain Way
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Prophecy is a rare talent, granted only to a select few by the River God. The ability to glimpse the future, by classical definition, implies a linear and well-defined path. However, if one could truly know the future, even for a moment, it would mean that all destiny is predetermined and immutable.
The truth, however, is far more complex. Time flows like a river, but it is not a straight and unalterable course. Instead, it is a winding and meandering current that curves around islands of primordial chaos and Entropy, which taint the very fabric of our existence.
The gift of prophecy is unique in that those who possess it can see many, but not all, possible threads of the future. With their own will and agency, they can eliminate unwanted paths, thus serving the temple of the God of the Wend and Way. In this way, the oracular visionaries can guide the course of events toward a more favorable outcome.
- On the Prophecy of the Gods by Gideon de Salavia 376 AC.
Not bothering to change out of her practice clothes, Seraphina stormed off to find her mother, her anger hot and untamed. Her fists clenched with every step, and the thought of confrontation burned in her mind like a smoldering ember. She wanted to hurl something—anything. The universe, the Divines, or perhaps some mischievous nature spirits seemed to answer her unspoken wish as she stumbled over a small rock while cutting across the estate grounds.
Her frustration boiled over. Grabbing the offending stone, she launched it into the distant woods with all her strength, a growl of frustration escaping her lips. Seconds later, a faint chime echoed in her mind, followed by a system notification:
You have slain a ??? 20 experience gained.
You have gained 1 Luck.
The absurdity of the situation disarmed her growing rage for a moment, and a smirk ghosted across her face. Perhaps the universe was trying to tell her something. She contemplated throwing more objects into the woods, idly wondering if she could make this her new strategy. The idea of ranged combat piqued her interest, but the thought of hauling around knives or throwing spears did not appeal. No, she needed something… something that could harness her monstrous Strength that was not a devil to carry about all over the place. She would have to think on it later. First, there was her mother. Or was it stepmother? Did it matter? Was motherhood defined by the body, the soul, or something else entirely? She shook off the thought; such metaphysical meanderings and musings could wait.
When Seraphina arrived at the main building, her mother was not in her rooms. After interrogating a maid, she discovered Anaselena was taking tea in the garden. By the time she crossed the manicured lawn, her rage had subsided to a simmer, leaving an unfamiliar, nagging dread in its place. Again, she was walking into unknown territory.
Under a cloth roof, the tea table was a picture of refinement, set for two with delicate china and an array of refreshments: jellies, colorful biscuits, and finger sandwiches. Anaselena sat serenely, gazing out over the garden, a floral tea steaming gently in her hand.
When her mother finally turned her gaze toward her, Seraphina was struck by the faint sadness in those sharp green eyes.
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“Have some tea, won’t you?” Anaselena offered, her tone more command than invitation. She placed her teacup on its saucer with a soft clink.
Seraphina crossed her arms defiantly. “I’d prefer to stand. I’m not in the mood for tea,” she said, her voice laced with frost. “What was the meaning of that?”
Anaselena tilted her head, the faintest trace of a smile playing at her lips. “What was the meaning of what, my dear?” she replied with infuriating smoothness, taking another delicate sip.
Seraphina bristled. Was she being goaded? Manipulated? She realized giving in to her temper would be a loss in this battle of wills. With a small huff, she pulled out a chair and sat, straightening her nonexistent skirt with a sharp motion. Fixing her mother with a glare, she repeated her question.
“What was the meaning of that farce with Kellan?”
Anaselena’s gaze darkened, though her demeanor remained composed. “I had to make a choice—between difficult futures. Those with the Sight have always been loyal to the crown, but I see now that the crown and the Kingdom are not the same. And that realization demanded a painful decision. A selfish decision.”
Seraphina remained silent, letting the weight of her mother’s words hang between them. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs with deliberate ease, her face a mask of indifference.
Her mother sighed, a long, wistful exhalation. “The Amolla root in your room was what decided it for me.”
Seraphina’s composure cracked. “You’ve been through my room?” she spat, her fists tightening beneath the table.
“Privacy means little to those with the Sight,” Anaselena replied coolly.
“Do not play games with me,” Seraphina snapped. “You and I both know the Sight cannot perceive those of direct blood.”
A sharp silence followed as Anaselena studied her daughter. “So you know,” she said at last, her voice clipped. Her eyes hardened, losing their earlier melancholy. “Yes, of course, you do. The only reason I haven’t ended you is that you are truly of my blood—not a changeling. Your actions may be clouded to me, but the ripples you create are unmistakable. Like a stone falling in a forest.”
Seraphina’s stomach twisted. Relief and dread warred within her, but she refused to show it.
“It was that fact, more than anything else, that confirmed your identity,” Anaselena continued. “You are, and you are not, my daughter. I weep for her loss, just as I weep for my son. But emotion cannot rule us.”
“Please, Mother,” Seraphina interrupted, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “get to the point.”
Anaselena’s mask of serenity cracked, revealing a flash of anger. “Do not think for a moment that I am blind to your schemes. I know what you planned to do—to push forward with or without my consent. I spared you the murder of your unborn brother. Do not pretend that was mercy you’d have granted.”
Her words struck like a whip, and for once, Seraphina was forced to be silent.
“You cannot imagine what it means to keep such a secret from the man you love,” Anaselena continued, her voice trembling with great emotion. “To see only kindness in his eyes, while carrying a truth that would shatter him. I will bear that burden until my dying breath. I have stolen from him his greatest dream. And though I understand why you forced my hand, I will never forgive you for it.”
Anaselena looked away, her features softening. “And yet, I still love you. More than anything now, for I have so little else left. I will tolerate your little games, but do not test me. One day, when you have children of your own, you will understand.”
“But—”
“Enough!” Anaselena cut her off sharply, her eyes blazing with jade fire. “You will not step out of line. You will do as I say. I sent you to Kellan because that old, broken coward commands the respect of men whose loyalty we need. His good opinion is worth more than a hundred gold coins! You would know this if the future had taught you anything.”
Her mother took a deep breath, calming herself. “A parent’s duty is not to make their child happy but to prepare them and give them the resilience to deal with what lies ahead. In your future, I assume I passed away too soon to teach you this. I do not intend to make that mistake here.”
“And you will tell me nothing more of the future that you have seen, I will not allow my own sight to be further clouded by that chaos,” the older woman added almost as an afterthought. “And… most important of all, you will obey me.”
Seraphina swallowed her retort as her mother leaned forward, a dark smile playing at her lips. “Do you know how one with the Sight ensures the future, darling?”
Seraphina shook her head, her stomach knotting.
Anaselena’s smile widened. “It’s quite simple, dearest heart. You destroy all other possible futures.”