"You may all choose to curse the fate you've been given. The fate of those that are Chosen. A destiny some view to be inescapable, to be the playthings of the gods who have decided that you, Candidates, are better used as pawns to discard or push forward at will rather than the residents of our world.
Indeed, it must seem a bleak and hopeless life. Sent to struggle and die in vain on an alien frontier you have no stake in. Exiled from your own worlds to serve a purpose you cannot see in ours. And just as you may curse the gods, you may also curse me.
I would not blame you. I must seem cruel, an apathetic judge to decide the already limited route you've been offered in life. But in truth, I am perhaps the single kindest soul you will encounter in Yarla. It is this path I offer you that does not allow despair. Two choices lie before you. Will you be better, fiercer, stronger than those around you, or will you allow yourself to be slain by their sword? Is this not a mercy compared to the aimless, wandering life offered to your peers? Do you not curse the gods who have cast your lives to the side in this way? Do you not hate the other Chosen misguided by the false dreams of fame and fortune?
Allow me to see it. Show me your rage against this destiny of yours. Show me your unwillingness, your defiance, to allow the gods to decide the path you must follow. Struggle. Fight. Kill. Slaughter other Chosen, those blind to the shackles that bind them to the forced pathways of destiny they tread. All to walk the paths of your own fate."
"BACK THE FUCK UP!"
"WHAT!? A MUGGING!?"
BOOM!
I gasp awake, clawing blindly at my stomach as the sound of the gunshot echoes through my mind.
For a second I expect to still be there, lying on the ground. The gunshot bouncing off of every building on that street, the bullet still in my stomach-
My stomach!
I lift up my shirt, inspecting my gut, and heave a sigh of relief when I notice that there's no wound there.
Maybe it was a bad dream?
That thought is instantly shattered as I lower my shirt, and quickly realize that it isn't mine. Neither are the blankets, the sheets, or even the bed. Okay, this is officially super weird. I look around, and yup, sure enough it isn't my roo-
Wait, why's there a kid in here?
Their hair is such a pale blonde that it looks white, but their eyes are a dark brown. He… she? It's hard to tell. Their long hair flows down to their back, and they're looking at me with wide eyes.
"Uh… hi?" I say, and the kid instantly bolts for the door. Okay, this is definitely not my house. So last night wasn't a dream? But I definitely got shot in the dream… maybe not dream, yet there's no wound.
"MOOOOM! He's awake!" The kid shouts from out of sight, and only now do I hear faint humming coming from further away, which stops. Also, something smells amazing. Like my mom's bacon and egg sandwiches, only somehow even more appetizing.
Another voice says something in a language I can't understand. It definitely sounds french though, and soon after…
…
I blink, as probably the most beautiful woman I've ever seen enters the room. Her eyes are an almost hypnotizing blue, and she looks at me with a smile. She has a toddler held in her arms, with dark hair but eyes just as blue as hers, and the toddler looks at me with their thumb in their mouth. Again, it's hard to tell if it's a boy or a girl.
Her blonde hair matches the other kid's, though it's tied up into a bun.
No, but seriously, she's beautiful.
And she has… pointed ears?
Okay, so beautiful and for some reason cosplaying in her own house. Weird, but… for some reason also really hot.
"Good morning." She says, her voice soft and thick with an accent that sounds vaguely french.
"Uh…" I manage, really an impressive feat considering the situation. Her smile widens, and she adjusts the toddler in her arms as they look me up and down.
And decidedly turn their head the other way.
… I feel oddly snubbed. By a kid.
Trying not to let my feelings be hurt too much, I clear my throat.
"Um… where am I?" I finally manage to ask, looking around again. The walls are bare and painted a light powder blue, with a wooden dresser pushed against the far wall and a nightstand next to the bed. It looks exactly how a guest room should look, even complete with a white vase that has fake flowers in it.
"You're in our apartment." The woman answers patiently, her voice almost supernaturally calming. "You were injured when Jason brought you here, but my husband has healed you completely."
Her thick accent and pretty voice have me nodding along with ease, before her words fully settle.
Injured?
Jason?
I look down at my body, glancing up at her before I twist away and lift up my shirt again.
"But I'm not wounded." I say, lowering my shirt and turning back to her, and she giggles. It's a really nice giggle.
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"I told you this, it is because my husband has healed you completely. He is a very good healer, server of Raya. He has also given you one of his shirts."
Ooookay, so now I really don't know what she's talking about. But last night plays around inside of my mind again, too vivid to be a dream. The pain was too real, the terror and the realization that I might die. The thought that I just wanted to see my family again.
Her smile softens as she adjusts the toddler on her hip again, who hasn't turned back to look at me once since they turned away, and raises a hand to beckon me. "I see you are confused. Come, we can talk in the kitchen. Jason has decided to cook breakfast for us. It will be very delicious." She says gently, and I toss my blanket aside, swinging my legs over the bed and standing up.
It does smell really good. Maybe I can figure out what happened over breakfast?
She turns around and walks back out of the room, and I follow suit, seeing the kid from before peering at us from one of the rooms. When they notice me looking at them they smile, running up to the woman.
"Mom, he's alright?" They ask, though I'm still not able to tell if they're a girl or a boy as the woman nods.
"There should be no problems. Do you doubt your father?"
The kid hurriedly shakes their head, looking at me. "What's your name? Mine's Vylera." They introduce, and I feel my eyebrows raising. It's definitely a… unique name.
"My name's Marcus." I say eventually, and the kid nods before turning around and running off. I hear their feet stomping downwards, and sure enough we come to a set of stairs after rounding the corner. The smell has only gotten better the closer we've gotten, and my stomach growls.
The woman turns to look at me, giggling again, and I feel my face go hot.
"I guess I'm really hungry." I mumble, and she nods.
"It is good. Hunger is a sign that you are healthy." She soothes, and I nod along. Her way of talking reminds me of my nonno and nonna, very precise and deliberate in the words they choose to speak in english since they'd learned it at a later age.
We finish making our way down the stairs, a whispered conversation flowing out from a kitchen further into the apartment. The kid from earlier was practically bouncing on their feet at the bottom of the stairs, rushing off to a side hallway once we reached him.
"Uncle Jace!" I hear them shout from the kitchen, and a soft chuckle follows it.
"What's up kiddo?" The voice says, their voice a deep rumble.
"He's awake! The boy you brought. Mom said that he'd get to eat with us!" The kid says excitedly, and a sigh from a different voice follows it.
"Vylera, what did we say about jumping onto people?" The voice asks patiently, this one softer and more gentle, and a quiet grumble trails after it. Until finally, we turn the corner into the kitchen and I see them.
There's a hispanic man sitting down at a small, round table while softly chiding Vylera, though his dark brown eyes are filled with nothing but love. His figure is slim, but I can't help but notice the corded muscle in his arms. He seemed to notice me studying him, and he turned to look at me with a wide smile.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, his tone so openly warm and friendly that I couldn't help but smile back.
"Honestly? Hungry." I said, and he laughed, nodding as his brown eyes twinkled with good humor.
"I bet you are." He hummed, and the woman went up to him. They spoke a few brief words in that vaguely french language, and he kissed her on the cheek as she sat the toddler down in his lap and walked over to the cupboard, opening it and grabbing two plates.
"Lyria, my wife," he gestured to the woman, "is going to make your plate. In the meantime, come have a seat, and get ready for breakfast. You can thank Jason for it, he graciously offered to cook. And when Jason offers to cook, you don't say no." He said, gesturing to the other man, and as I sat down I studied him.
He looked asian, kind of. He was obviously mixed, but enough features were there to at least pick that out. He was pretty intimidating. Even sitting down he would come up to my shoulder if I was standing, and the baggy shirt he had on couldn't hide the bulge of his muscles underneath it. More than that though, were his scars. They criss crossed over his arms, and I could see some pretty gnarly ones peeking out from the collar of his shirt, as well as an ugly one that ran from his right temple all the way to the right side of his jaw in a jagged line. There was a rugged handsomeness to him, despite all of the scars, but his piercing black eyes seemed to be assessing me just as much as I was assessing him.
But more than everything else, I felt a sense of familiarity with him. Until realization hit me.
"You were the one who was getting mug-"
"Here you are." The woman - Lyria - said with a smile, setting a plate down in front of me. I looked at it and instantly my stomach rumbled again, pinching with hunger. It was a breakfast sandwich, complete with toasted bread, sunny side up eggs with runny yolk that trickled out of the sides, crispy bacon and small cubes of beef with avocado slices.
I licked my lips, glancing around, and the hispanic man gestured towards it with a laugh.
"We already ate ours, so please, go ahead." He said, and I swallowed before grabbing it and practically stuffing it into my mouth.
It was perfect.
"Seems that he likes it, Jason." The hispanic man laughed, and Jason rolled his eyes, his face still stoic but with the barest hint of a smile to it. I couldn't focus on anything but the sandwich though, and I scarfed it down with bite after bite. Lyria placed a glass of orange juice in front of me, and I only paused eating long enough to gulp it down before I resumed tearing into the sandwich.
When I was finally done I leaned back, licking my lips. Lyria was taking dainty bites of the sandwich, her eyes closed as she seemed enraptured by the taste. Not that I could blame her.
"Well, now that that's out of the way, we should introduce ourselves. I'm sure you've got a lot of questions." The hispanic man said, bouncing his toddler on his knee as he extended a hand. "I'm Carson Jimenez."
I took the offered hand, remembering what my uncle had said about firm handshakes as I squeezed his hand tight. Despite his slim frame, his grip was like steel, and I forced myself not to wince as I pulled my hand back. Carson nodded towards Jason.
"Jason Takada." Was the greeting he gave, not extending his hand, but nodding towards me.
"My name's Marcus Marino." I greeted them both, and they nodded in unison. "So uh… I mean, thank you for the sandwich. I mean, it was really good. But why am I at your apartment?" I asked the obvious question, and they shared a glance.
"How much do you remember from last night?" Carson asked, and I paused, my hands clenching.
"I…" I hesitated, and they both waited patiently as I collected myself. "I mean, I don't remember a lot. I guess I was coming home from work, and I saw…" Probably best not to tell them about the visions I had, or they'd think I was crazy. "I mean I saw something happening down the street as I was biking past it, so I stopped to take a look. And then I think, I don't know, Jason… you were getting mugged? I remember someone turning around and… shooting me. But that's not possible, because I'm not wounded, so… maybe that part was a dream."
They both shared a look again, before Carson cleared his throat. "You're sure that's all that happened? You didn't see anything else, anything… strange?"
"He's dancing around the subject, so I'll be straight forward." Jason said gruffly, setting the kid hanging off of his neck down to the side and leaning forward. Vylera pouted before running around to his mom, peeking around at us from behind her. "Marcus, have you seen a Status Screen?"
I froze, ice flooding my veins. I looked at Jason with wide eyes, and was met with a steeled expression. There was something within the depths of his pupils, something… terrifying. Something that said I absolutely must not lie, or bad things would happen.
"I… yes." I agreed, and Jason sighed, before looking at Carson with a 'you see?' kind of expression. But I was more floored that they knew about it. "How… how did you know?" I asked hesitantly, and Carson cleared his throat.
"Well… should you, or should I?" He asked Jason, who shrugged. Which only added to my confusion. Until Carson looked at me, and spoke.
"Show Status Public." He said, and a blue screen popped up in front of him, which he swiped to the side.
And it slid around the air until it was right in front of me.
A screen that looked hauntingly familiar.
I looked up at the two of them, but it's Jason who speaks first, his expression grim. He almost looks… haunted, by what he's about to say.
"I'm sorry, Marcus. You've been Chosen."