Indenuel crept as quietly as he could through the guest room, getting dressed for Sabbath worship. Tolomon was sound asleep. He had been since the night before. They healed him enough for him to wake up and eat a hearty dinner before returning to his room and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Indenuel had to remember the man was still recovering from gray death after all this.

Indenuel softly closed the door before heading downstairs. The servants bowed and curtseyed to him, and he bowed back.

Martin walked up to him, smiling. “Hello my boy.”

“Hello,” Indenuel said, his voice still quiet. He didn’t want to wake Tolomon up. Martin glanced at the room and placed an arm around him as they moved further away.

“I do not want to wake him any more than you do, so I need to ask,” Martin said, his voice dropping. “Are you comfortable going to the Cathedral without him?”

Indenuel frowned in thought. “I certainly don’t want to wake him up to guard me. He needs his rest.”

“That he does. We’ll make sure a half dozen guards are always posted around you while you are away from my home,” Martin said.

Indenuel nodded. “That reminds me. We have leaned upon your hospitality far too much.”

“Oh, impossible, my boy,” Martin said, his voice growing stronger as they entered the busier part of the house with everyone getting ready for Sabbath worship. “I am a healer, and therefore my home is open to those who need healing, for as long as you need.”

“With Tolomon on the mend, the army is just as willing to guard my own home as they are yours. And I have my guests to prepare for in two days,” Indenuel said.

“Ah, yes. Yes indeed. It is good of you to open your home to Andres and Lola,” Martin said.

His face screwed up in a grimace. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Martin smiled. “I assume it is the children you are far more excited to see.”

“It is, yes,” Indenuel said far too quickly.

“Promise me you will try to be hospitable.”

“I will.” Martin patted his back and moved away, disappearing into the crowd. “To the children,” he muttered to himself.

Despite the four soldiers filling his carriage and the two marching on either side, he still felt vulnerable. They surrounded him on every side as he walked into the Cathedral, parting the way through the crowd as he headed for his spot. They sat, two on each side with two behind him. Somehow it still felt more unnerving and more unsafe than Tolomon simply being by his side.

Diego drew a crowd of boys his age, whispering, but with his hand motions and movements, it was clear he was recounting in detail all he saw with Tolomon’s fight. If Tolomon wasn’t already a legend, he would be after today. Saving Indenuel from fifty Kiamese soldiers, surviving grey death, and then fighting Santollian soldiers all day and never having one of them knock him out? No wonder the prophet of the fifth age knew who Tolomon was. He would be remembered in history.

After the sermon, Indenuel sat in the meditation room, working on strengthening his powers. He couldn’t quite get into the full meditation state. He had gotten used to Tolomon being there, even if it was just on the other side of the door, that it felt weird to know he wasn’t there.

Indenuel pulled on his powers of speaking to the dead, hearing the humming he often associated with the good spirits speaking to each other. He sensed the multiple spirits in the room and he reached out to them, sensing them, sensing glimpses of their lives that they would show him.

“It’s you!”

Indenuel was startled. A spirit was speaking to him, and he could understand it. He never understood a spirit unless it was in the dream world. He opened his eyes to see a spirit, Cristoval’s spirit, hoovering right above his body. Indenuel’s mouth dropped open. Cristoval’s spirit was still ridiculously old. Maybe he didn’t de-age until he had passed on in the next life. Cristoval stared at him with wide eyes before slowly sinking into his body. His physical head snapped up with surprising youth and he stared at Indenuel, his mouth also hanging open. The two of them stared at each other, this being the first time Cristoval was aware of him, and yet it still made the hairs on the back of Indenuel’s neck stand up.

“It is you,” Cristoval said, his voice clear and certain, though still gravely with age.

“Um, yes,” Indenuel said.

Dalius cracked an eye open to see what was going on before sitting up straighter, his eyes jumping between his grandfather and Indenuel.

Cristoval lifted his weary arms to him. “Come. Come.” Indenuel did not want to get any closer to the old man, but by this point Martin was nudging him over. This had broken everyone’s meditation. Indenuel walked over before getting on his knees beside Cristoval, who reached out and touched his chin. Indenuel winced, prepared to see spirits, but there weren’t any. Cristoval kept touching his face, his grey-green eyes filling with tears. “It’s you!”

“Yes, it’s me,” Indenuel said.

A tear dropped from his eye. “You’ve finally come.”

Indenuel kept his mouth shut, unsure what else to say. More tears, as the joy turned to sorrow. “I have waited so long.” Indenuel watched him, feeling the thin fingers on his face. He tried not to brush them away, did his best to hold perfectly still. Cristoval’s lips trembled as he kissed Indenuel’s forehead, the tears freely running down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, sir?” Indenuel asked.

“For how you die. Betrayed. Frightened. Powerless. Angry. Such a painful, lonely death. Martin shouldn’t have killed you. He should have helped you from the very beginning.”

Indenuel’s entire body froze except his eyes, which grew in horror. “What?”

“Dalius,” Navir said, a slight worry to his tone.

Dalius nodded and grabbed Cristoval’s chair, pushing him out of the meditation room. Indenuel remained on his knees, staring at the wall, afraid of the fear they would see so clearly on his face. Martin? Martin was going to murder him?

“Indenuel?” Navir asked.

He felt sick to his stomach. The weight of a hand fell on his shoulder, and he jerked away, surprised. Martin lifted his hand in the air, taking a step back. Instinctively Indenuel pulled out his sword, pointing it right at his chest.

“Whoa, Indenuel,” Fadrique said, pulling Martin farther away. “Put that away.”

“You’re going to murder me,” Indenuel said, his voice quiet, staring at Martin’s shocked face.

“I’m just as surprised as you are,” he said, holding perfectly still, staring at the sword. “Please, Indenuel, there is no need to react in this way.”

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“There is every need,” Indenuel’s voice was barely a whisper yet everyone in the room heard him.

Navir stood in front of Martin, between him and the sword. “Cristoval hasn’t been present for a long time. We cannot trust anything he says.”

“But his powers. He might have seen-”

“He could have confused me for someone else,” Martin said. “Or even both of us. It’s happened multiple times.”

Navir reached out, carefully laying a finger on the blade of the sword before lowering it. “I know both Cristoval and Martin. What Cristoval insinuated is absurd. He has made mistakes in the past. I assure you, with every bit of knowledge I have about Martin, he would never kill you.”

Indenuel gave another shuddering breath as he covered his mouth, the sword tip dropping to the ground. Martin moved past Navir, carefully touching Indenuel’s shoulders, giving him a fatherly smile. “Forget what you heard from Cristoval. Understand? I would never kill you.” The door opened and Dalius walked back inside without Cristoval. “The future is always murky, and there’s no point wasting another moment worrying about it.”

“Of course you’d say that,” Indenuel said, feeling lightheaded. “You’re not the one who’s going to…”

“You cannot know that. There are too many factors at play,” Martin said. “Cristoval has been wrong before.”

Indenuel braced himself against the wall as Martin let go of him. “What would it take?” he asked, his voice still a whisper. “For you to kill?”

Martin sighed, the smile gone, pain on his face. “My boy, I could never and will never do it.”

Indenuel continued to stare at him, terror stricken. Despite what everyone else said of how it would be impossible, there would always be something in the back of his mind, lingering.

“Trust me, Indenuel, I’d rather believe the Prophet Jaakob’s words over my grandfather’s right now,” Dalius said. “You cannot be sure what Cristoval says.”

Indenuel nodded in hopes that would help him believe it more. For someone who’s birth and life had been foretold, he was feeling quite in the dark about the whole thing. He kept a weary eye on Martin as he sheathed his sword.

“I’d like to go back to Tolomon now.” Indenuel’s voice shook. He didn’t even want to imagine trying to attend the social after this.

“Of course,” Martin looked like he was about to pat Indenuel on the back, but he flinched, holding a hand up to stop him. Martin stared at him, then brought his hand back to his side. “We cannot let this ruin our friendship.”

Indenuel should say something, but what was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to say to the man who might one day kill him? “I simply need some time. To understand it.”

Martin hesitated, then nodded. Indenuel didn’t look at any of them as he walked out of the meditation far too early. The soldiers surrounded him again, following him as he entered his carriage. He was in a numb state, trying to wrap his mind around it all, but it had shut down. There was a part of him that simply refused to acknowledge what happened.

***

Martin stared at the closed door. It was quiet, but not the quiet he was used to in a meditation room.

“Did Cristoval say anything else?” Martin asked.

Dalius shook his head. “He went back to mumbling about rainy Dengrian islands.”

There was another pause. “Is there anything we should know, Martin?” Navir asked.

The quiet accusation hurt worse than Indenuel’s outburst. “You believe Cristoval?”

“Of course not,” Navir said. “But in case he’s right-”

“He’s not. I could never kill that boy,” Martin said. He understood Navir’s need to clarify, but he couldn’t help but get annoyed at it all the same. When he heard Cristoval mutter all that, he was certain he had misheard him.

“Not even if he steals your concubine?” Fadrique asked.

“No, not even then,” Martin said slowly so they wouldn’t misunderstand.

Fadrique shrugged. “I definitely would.”

Martin sighed. “There is nothing more to talk about. What Cristoval said was a lie. I will never kill Indenuel.”

***

Indenuel stumbled into Martin’s house. It was eerily quiet with the members of the house gone to Sabbath, and most of the staff at their own worship services. Indenuel walked toward the guest rooms, his mind still in an agitated state. He opened the door to see Tolomon sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes closed, in a state of meditation. Indenuel walked deeper into his room before he collapsed on his bed.

“You’re home early,” Tolomon said.

“I couldn’t go to the social without you there to protect me,” Indenuel said, trying to keep the tone light as he kept his face away from him. The bed creaked as Tolomon adjusted on it.

“Fair enough. I know how much women scare you.” Indenuel didn’t laugh. He placed his hands under his pillow to prop it up, doing his best not to cry. He wasn’t going to cry. Not again. “Indenuel?”

“I never wanted this. Any of it. I never asked for the prophecy to be about me. I never wanted to grow up hiding four powers and the abuse I suffered for it, and I never wanted to train to end a war.” His eyes grew hot, and he purposefully kept his head away from Tolomon. “Don’t I get a choice in the matter?”

Tolomon said nothing. He was probably looking at Indenuel, but he kept his back toward him. “After everything you’ve learned about the conflict, do you honestly think you could walk away from it all?”

Indenuel opened his eyes, letting his pillow collect his tears as he stared at the opposite wall. He thought back through everything, through the uncertainty of it all. The High Elders said they needed him because he would finally win the war, but now they couldn’t be certain he could win it. Just that it would end. Win or lose, was it worth it to grow up in such an abusive town? To grapple with the expectations of winning a war? Of knowing he had to fight five hundred Kiamese soldiers all by himself? And now, the added knowledge of possibly getting murdered by Martin?

“I would.” Indenuel sat up, not wanting to see Tolomon’s face, so he kept his back to him. “Does that make me a coward?”

He heard the soft padding of Tolomon’s feet against the floorboard as he walked over to him. He sat next to Indenuel, his arms folded. “It makes you human.”

Indenuel scoffed before he buried his head in his hands, trying to cover as many tears as possible. “I can’t do this, Tolomon. Everything is stacked against me. I keep waiting to get better at the sword, and I’m not. And now Cristoval told me I was going to be murdered by Martin.”

Tolomon paused, then stifled a laugh. Indenuel gave him an annoyed look. “I’m sorry,” Tolomon said, covering his mouth. “I’m truly sorry. This is clearly troubling you, but seriously? High Elder Martin?”

“Yes. Martin.” Tolomon’s laughter died down, but he still looked like this was some big joke. “Aren’t you the one that’s supposed to expect me to be in danger all the time?”

“I always have a ranking of people who are most likely to kill you. Of all the High Elders, including High Elder Cristoval, Martin the Healer is the lowest threat to you.” He chuckled again. “What were the exact words of this so-called prophecy?”

Indenuel sighed, then closed his eyes, trying to remember. “That Martin was going to kill me. I’ll be betrayed. Abandoned. Powerless. And Martin should have helped me from the beginning.”

Tolomon shrugged. “I mean, I’ll remember that while I’m guarding you, but honestly, High Elder Cristoval is a man who's lived a long life. A very long life. He’s seen a lot of things, and probably confused a memory with someone that looked like Martin for what he thought was a vision of the future.”

Indenuel felt a little better. The more time he was away from it, the crazier it sounded. He acted out of fear, mostly. But there was something, deep down, that warned him it would be wise to be cautious all the same.

“What would you do if you were faced with fulfilling a prophecy you didn’t even know about until a few months ago? Where you’d fight, alone, and possibly win, possibly loose, and also, possibly, a close friend and mentor was probably going to murder you? Sometime in your future?”

Tolomon took a deep breath then slowly let it out as he closed one eye and stared at the wall. “Well, if a prophecy was made about me, I’d just… keep doing what I’m doing.”

“Why?” Indenuel asked.

“If a powerful prophet saw my future, saw how it would all go down, there’s really no point doing anything else, because it will happen eventually. Right?” Tolomon asked.

Indenuel frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“He saw I get hurt at the end of the day, for example. I could spend so much time worrying about a band of men coming after me that I end up accidentally tripping over something I could have avoided if I had been paying attention and end up with a scraped knee. In that case, the prophecy came true,” Tolomon said.

Indenuel sighed. “You’re saying I simply don’t worry about the fact that Martin is going to murder me?”

Tolomon chuckled before clearing his throat. “Really, I am sorry. There is just no scenario in my head where that happens. I was more talking about the other prophet. Not High Elder Cristoval.”

“You, who have thought of every way I could die, cannot think of a way Martin could kill me?” Indenuel asked.

Tolomon paused, then closed his eyes as he thought. “If, somehow, he had to choose between you and his fa… no, he…” Tolomon let out a breath. “I honestly think if he had to choose between saving you or saving his family, he would still choose you. Maybe? If the prophecy still needed to be fulfilled, he’d probably choose you. But after? I don’t know. High Elder Martin is one of those men who will treat you as family the moment you enter the door of his home. It’s certainly how he’s treated me,” Tolomon said.

“So, you don’t think he’ll kill me?” Indenuel asked.

“I always think you are in danger. While we’re at Martin’s I will keep a closer eye on you because the world needs you, but this is probably an example of tripping over the crack and scraping your knee kind of prophecy,” Tolomon said.

“Except murder is kind of a bigger deal than scrapping your knee,” Indenuel mumbled.

Tolomon smiled. “I honestly think we’ll look back and think ‘oh so that’s what he meant.’”

Indenuel rubbed his forehead. “I really hope you’re right.”

Tolomon leaned over, using his shoulder to nudge him. “And don’t be in the way of him saving his family. That’s the other thing you can do.”

Indenuel snorted. “I’ll see what I can do.”