Indenuel stared at Martin, oblivious to the mess below.

“We have been waiting so long for you,” Martin said.

Indenuel’s appetite disappeared, the dried meat he had been eating churned in his stomach as he stared at Martin’s green eyes. “That’s impossible. I’m not… no.”

“Indenuel-”

“You must be misinformed. The rest of the village, they’d-”

“Are fully aware of the prophecy,” Martin said. “Hugo even agrees it matches perfectly.”

He sat on the stool, starting to feel angry. “No. Impossible. The rest of the village? They knew and… and they didn’t tell me?”

“They weren’t aware you had all four powers,” Martin said. “Your mother seemed to have-”

“No!” He didn’t mean for it to come out so sharp. “My mother…” He covered his face in his hands to keep Martin from seeing him. Two ideas wrestled with each other in his mind. Either the Warrior was a historical story and Martin was the one misinformed, or it was a prophecy, and his mother lied to him. Both seemed too impossible to believe.

“I’m not the Warrior,” Indenuel said quietly. “I… I don’t have any training.”

“You saved your village. All of them. I have full faith that you can save Santollia,” Martin said.

Indenuel’s hands shook as he let them drop from his face. When he was much younger, he pretended he was the Warrior. It caught his imagination that someone in the past had been like him. Someone with all four powers who had unified the country and was revered by all. But now that he was faced with the reality of it, it terrified him. “I thought only the Savior was prophesized to come.”

“And he will one day. In the end of days, when the world needs to be redeemed once again from the devil. But the Warrior, he was prophesied to come a lot sooner than the Savior.” Martin smiled, giving a relieved sigh. “It is rewarding to my soul. My faith has been strengthened. You, sitting here before me means the Savior of the world is indeed going to come one day.”

Indenuel didn’t know what to do with this praise. “Are you certain about me?”

Martin smiled, and that was all he needed to know. He believed. “Now, to be absolutely certain, I need to see evidence of all four powers, however small they may be.”

He tried to find his voice. “If I am… who you think I am… what will happen to me?”

“My colleagues and I will train you in all four of the powers so you can be ready for the great battle.”

Martin’s colleagues. The High Elders. All four High Elders, training him. Indenuel finally realized the pack at his feet and the scattered food. “Forgive me, High Elder Martin. I did not mean to disrespect you in such a fashion.” He dropped to his knees and hastily gathered the food.

“You’ve been given quite the shock, my boy. It is perfectly fine. Again, Martin is enough to call me by.”

Indenuel stuffed the food back in the pack. “So I’m to leave Mountain Pass? Forever?”

“Should you prove to have all four, I must take you to Santollia City as soon as possible. Though after the war, you may return if you wish,” Martin said.

A troubled look crossed Indenuel’s face as he sat back down. “And the children?”

“They will be taken care of by the members of this village, of course,” Martin said. He said nothing. He went back to eating his dried meat. “You have friends here?”

“No.” Indenuel chewed the dried meat. He wasn’t sure how to explain it. Matteo, Emilia, and Isla were his family. He considered them his little brother and sisters the moment they arrived, and the bond they shared only grew from there. If they were his blood relatives, they would have come with him, to live with him in Santollia City. If his mother was still alive, surely she would have come to live with him. But the children were orphans, not technically related to him. He wanted more than anything to bring them.

Now that his days with them were numbered, it was all he wanted to do. He didn’t care about any of the other members of the village. “Can I see the children?”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Martin said.

“Thank you, High Elder-” Martin gave him a look. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Martin.”

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“Now, I told your postmaster, Hugo, my suspicions of you being the Warrior. I am not sure if he told anyone else, but one way or another, word has spread,” Martin said.

“Sounds like Mountain Pass,” Indenuel mumbled.

Martin opened the door of the house, ushering Indenuel out of it. He almost reached for another layer of clothing when the cool autumn breeze blow through. He walked outside, blinking in the sunlight.

“Should you want to use your powers, go ahead and show them as we walk, but you will not officially be declared the Warrior until you are presented to the other High Elder’s in Santollia City. We High Elders must all agree on this fact,” Martin said as he came to Indenuel’s side. Now that they were standing side by side, Indenuel was taller than Martin by almost a head, but he still felt small next to a High Elder.

“I understand, sir.”

“And should the High Elders be in agreement, you will be presented to the King and Queen of Santollia, where you will begin training with the other cadets in the King’s Militia, the strongest military group in all of Santollia.” Indenuel said nothing except let a shaky breath escape him. Martin turned a compassionate eye toward him. “Forgive me. I am getting ahead of myself. I did not mean to cause you anxiety.” Martin patted Indenuel’s hand, and his anxiety left for a moment.

“Did you do that?” Indenuel asked.

“I did.”

He rubbed his wrist, staring at the ground. “I didn’t think healing anxiety was possible.”

“Only temporary, my boy. But it is something I can teach you.”

They walked down the dirt road when out of nowhere the villagers spilled onto it, waving and shouting. Indenuel glanced at Martin, seeing if he would wave back. He did before smiling at Indenuel. He looked confused, then watched as the villagers started rushing toward him. He took a few steps back, his chest tightening. Nothing ever good came from the villagers rushing him like this.

One of the women came close. Indenuel flinched, waiting for the slap, but instead she flung her arms around him.

“You are going to save us all!”

He opened his eyes before taking the woman’s shoulders and pulling her off. He didn’t even know her name. She shouldn’t be hugging him like this. An unmarried woman hugging an unmarried man went against etiquette. “Uh, thank you.”

Who was this girl? She must be a visitor from another town. In fact, the crowd seemed far bigger than anything he remembered from the few village parties he was allowed to attend.

“We must celebrate!” Hugo said, slapping him on the back. Indenuel’s shoulders tightened in response. “A party in your name!”

Indenuel’s eyebrows knit together in confusion as the village continued to pour compliments on him. He waited for the quiet insults, or the compliments that were not actually compliments. There was no way any of this was genuine.

They kept coming, more villagers crowding him. Indenuel clenched his fists together. Martin touched his wrist, feeding him power to cope with his anxiety, but it was still quite strong.

Martin waved to the people. “You have such a charming little village here.”

“Yeah,” he managed to say through his unnatural breathing. The last time the villagers had done this was when they surrounded his house, screaming obscenities at Lucia he didn’t dare repeat. He was so certain they were going to burn down the house that he couldn’t sleep well for a week afterwards. He couldn’t be the only one that remembered that night.

Indenuel didn’t say anything as the village began chatting with him and amongst themselves like this was some sort of village party.

“Indenuel!” Gracia said. He tried to smile at her, but his face seemed more of a wince. “We need to get together and chat like we did before the storm!”

He stared at her. “Um, what?”

“Don’t you remember? My children would play with your little orphans, and you, your mother, and I would all chat and gossip!”

He had no idea how to react to such a blatant lie. “I don’t remember any of that.”

Gracia laughed longer and louder than seemed necessary. “You always make me laugh!” She went to give him a playful push, but he tensed and backed away into a group behind him who all touched him, rubbing or patting his back. He stiffened.

“Let’s give the boy some room,” Martin said, grabbing Indenuel’s wrist and giving him a burst of calming power. It was enough to keep him from collapsing to the ground in a heap. Indenuel squeezed Martin’s arm in thanks. The villagers seemed to turn to Martin instead. He smiled and somehow seemed to talk to all the villagers individually as well as collectively as he shook their hands and listened to their problems. Indenuel felt a different sort of anxious. He wanted to see the children, but the villagers were still surrounding them.

“Didn’t you want a tour of the village?” Indenuel asked after Martin sat through one of Gracia’s pity stories.

“Oh, my boy, I am seeing the village. The best guide is through the stories of their citizens,” he said as another person came to talk to him.

The creeping sensation started in his gut. The villagers continued to push up against him, even though they were talking to Martin. He could smell the sweat from the farmers. A baby cried in the distance, and Indenuel closed his eyes to keep himself calm. Martin took it in strides, smiling and laughing as the villagers told him their stories and jokes. Indenuel’s legs went stiff. He crossed his arms, closed his eyes, and waited for them to leave. But would they leave?

In a panic, he mentally reached toward the sky. The sky reacted to his needs. Ever so carefully, clouds swirled into existence, and rain sprinkled down on them. Rain was expected in the autumn. Some of the people who weren’t from Mountain Pass looked up and backed away, holding hands over their faces as they made their way back into whatever homes they were staying at. Some remained outside. Martin simultaneously listened to the stories and glanced at Indenuel with a bemused look. The rain got heavier, and a wind picked up. Some of them simply talked louder to Martin. It took a lightning flash to finally get Gracia to scuttle back into her home. Martin stood, silent, watching the rain fall. When the last door had closed, the rain trickled to a sprinkle before it stopped. The clouds dispersed as quickly as they had come. Autumn sunlight filtered through and warmed Indenuel’s skin.

Martin glanced up at the sky before staring at Indenuel whose head was bowed, studying the ground, breathing quietly.

“I don’t like crowds,” Indenuel said.

“I’ll be sure to remember that.”