Horror and devastation surrounded Ophelia. Corpses of soldiers both human and monstrous littered the battlefield. Blood soaked the ground and smoke filled the air, stinging her eyes. Death was all that could be found, but Ophelia desperately searched for some kind of hope. There had to be something. Anything! Yet, all she could see was despair.

Three flying castles loomed over the battlefield. From their towers came bolts of fire and lightning which tore through the human soldiers. Demons flew from the castle’s ramparts to slay those that survived the volley. To the east swarmed the monstrous Horde. Orcs, hobgoblins, lycans, and many other monster races of Pa’palla. Their savagery knew no bounds as they tore apart the humans. Those that were fortunate were given a quick death, but those that weren’t released a harrowing scream. Ophelia had to turn away from the torture, especially when the victim was a woman. Then her eyes fell onto the worst sight she could witness.

A demon in black armor strode onto the battlefield. In his left hand was a multipronged spear. Four heads adorned the prongs, their faces frozen in terrible suffering. The demon roared in victory, holding the spear aloft, and the humans broke at the sight. The horror forced Ophelia to wakefulness, and she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Why does this keep happening?” Ophelia cried. “That’s the fifth vision I’ve seen where the heroes die.”

The pain in her chest was too great that it made her forget about the cold stone beneath her, or the icy chill penetrating through her sheer gown. The simple ornate room was lit by the moon’s light and the four crystal balls that the mages used to observe her visions. A priestess wrapped a simple white blanket around Ophelia’s shoulders.

The mages’ themselves were too enraptured by the vision. “Are we truly doomed to fail?” One muttered under his breath. “Not even the heroes are strong enough to save us?”

Ophelia pulled the blanket closed, trying to take comfort in the soft cloth. “Enough!” All eyes turned to the wizened woman sitting on plush chair overlooking the ritual site. “If four heroes are not enough to save us, then we must seek out more.”

“More.” Everyone looked around confused. “What do you mean more?”

“I’m not speaking in riddles fool.” The old woman snapped.

“Please Lady Sage, explain your reasoning!” Ophelia replied, hope slightly burned in her chest as she looked up to her elder.

The Sage sighed in disappointment. “Do none of you know your history? How heroes were summoned in the past?” She looked around at the younger people below her.

“Of course! The kingdom of Gilbrant was the first to discover the summoning spell, and they made the greatest sacrifice to summon all four heroes at once.” Everyone nodded in agreement save for the more senior among them. The elderly looked to the ground in shame.

“Fools, who is spouting such nonsense?” The Sage coughed in anger. “Gilbrant wasn’t the first to summon the heroes. It was the first to summon all four.” Silence fell as the revelation hit the younger members hard. Her gaze fell to Ophelia. “Child, as Oracle, your responsibility is to the kingdom. You must make the appropriate sacrifices to ensure that it survives. It is a position in which selfishness cannot exist. It demands sacrifices.” Ophelia nodded, eager to hear the words of her predecessor.

“Why are you lying to us?” A young mage shouted. “Everyone knows Gilbrant has always been the one to summon heroes.”

“You think I’m lying” The Sage’s eyes burned with anger. “I was there. While the other kingdoms around us had their Oracles find a hero for them to summon, I found four.” She looked at Ophelia with a painful smile. “It nearly took all my levels, but I found a future in which Gilbrant thrived. I found a future in which four heroes came to our aid, and you must now do the same.” Ophelia nodded with a determined gaze. “Good girl. I recommend altering the future in which five heroes are summoned. Bring in another scrying stone.”

Ophelia waited as another station was set up, and a mage was manning it. Then she tossed the blanket to the floor and laid back down. With a few deep breaths she fell back into her trance.

The world itself around her became dark with the only light coming from the stream that represented time. The flow of time itself looked like an ever-growing tapestry, interwoven together by the choices of billions across all the realms. Some threads were sewn together into a single seam and then split into multiple while others remained completely isolated, only connecting with the other strands when those like herself made them do so. Ophelia ran her hand over the tapestry until she found the spot she was looking for.

It was a focal point in which all the possible timelines of her world came together. It glowed with a deep crimson light, and the rotting smell of death struck her nose. Carefully, she pulled the point apart, trying desperately to keep it from unraveling. It was a delicate process of separating the thread until she isolated four strands that belonged to the heroes. Slowly, she followed the strands back until they crossed over to a different thread that belonged to another realm.

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Ophelia closed her eyes and wished. “I need a fifth hero. One who will forever change the fate of my world for the better.”

She pinched the thread and pulled out a single strand. She stared at the strand in concern. Unlike the four strands belonging to the four heroes, this one was simply plain. There was warmth coming from the strand. The individual, whomever it was, was a decent person, but no one of relevance. Still, Ophelia plucked the strand free from its original timeline and knitted it into her own. Immediately, the strand turned black, and Ophelia couldn’t help but feel regret knowing this individual would suffer. She continued following the stand and noticed that it wove itself into a single timeline, and whenever it tried branching out, the threads were immediately cut. Others started weaving themselves along side it, and the black stains started to make the hero’s strand brighten until it outshone the others.

“I’m sorry.” Ophelia whispered as she gingerly cradled the thread. “But I need your help in saving my world.” She watched the hero’s strand connect to the focal point and pushed her consciousness into it.

Devastation surrounded her, but this time stared at the battlefield in hope. The demonic castles laid in crumbling ruins, and the corpses of demons littered the ground. The Horde which had haunted her earlier visions were no longer there. Instead, giant metal birds flew across the sky. Their shrieks were so loud that she had to cover her ears. A hulking monstrosity stomped across the battlefield with a massive, spiked club in its hand. A flash of golden light shot across the sky, and she stared up in awe a figure with golden wings flew above her. Ophelia screamed when a blast of magic shot past her and struck the single demon fleeing the battle. Again, she stared in awe at the armored figure carrying a strange metallic staff.

Ophelia fell to her knees and cried happy tears. No longer was the battle theirs to lose. Determination to see this hero pushed Ophelia back to her feet, and she scoured the battlefield. She approached the ruins of the demon castles she spotted a single figure standing on the rubble.

Ophelia stared in awe at the knight adorned in white armor. Blue sparks shot from parts of the amor as the hero took a step forward, but their legs gave out and they tumbled down the pile of stones. Ophelia slowly approached the figure, her eyes focused on the pale blue light coming from the hero’s chest.

Ophelia reached out to take the hero’s hand, but her fingers passed right through. “Thank you.” She whispered with a warm smile. Her eyes opened and she stared up into the ivory moon. She sat up and smiled at the mages. “Did you see that?” She fought against the exhaustion brought on from changing the timeline.

“No Lady Oracle, we didn’t.” The mages gathered around the fifth scrying crystal stared at her in confusion. “We were able to scry the heroes mana signature, but whenever we tried to scry their future, it was… clouded.” All eyes turned to the Sage. “Have you seen this before?”

The Sage scratched her chin in thought. “Something must have been interfering with the stone. Ophelia what did you see?”

Ophelia’s eyes brightened with excitement. “The battle was ours! The demon armies were thoroughly crushed, and the Horde was nowhere in sight.” Everyone sighed in relief. “What’s strange is that there were giant metal birds flying in the sky, and I saw three individuals in strange armor that I had never seen before. I… don’t think they were human.” Everyone’s ease turned to apprehension.

“What do you mean?” The Sage said in concern.

“One was flying through the air with golden wings, and another was a giant brute of a man.” Ophelia’s eyes grew heavy, and she forced herself to stay awake. A priestess held onto her shoulders to keep her from falling. “One was definitely a woman, but I saw her cast a spell at a range that was beyond human ability.”

Fear filled the eyes of everyone around her. “And the Hero?”

“The Hero looked gravely injured. I couldn’t determine their fate.” Ophelia groaned as she tried to keep her head up. She started shivering as the cold air nipped at her sweaty body. “But It was amazing. Whoever it is looked to be a knight in armor the purest of white.” Remembering the scene made her heart skip.

“Could the Hero be a martial tamer?”

“Maybe a summoner?”

“I’ve never heard of a summoner that wears armor before.”

“Enough speculation.” The Sage focused on Ophelia. “The Oracle is exhausted. Get her to bed and begin preparations to summon the heroes.”

Everyone went about their task with renewed vigor, and soon the central chamber was empty. The Sage stared down at the divining table, and she hobbled down the steps towards it. She shouldn’t be doing this. Her wisdom was needed to guide the future heroes, but her curiosity demanded it. The Sage scurried onto the table and after a few breaths, entered a trance.

Time flowed before her, and she reached out to inspect the threads. After some time, she found the strand that belonged to the fifth hero. It was odd how it shined. As the former Oracle, she was familiar with how the strands worked. Key individuals, like the heroes, often shined brighter than all the others, but this individual shined brighter than even them. It worried her.

The Sage tried pulling the hero’s thread to better inspect it, but the surge of energy struck her finger. The Sage looked at her hand in fear as her fore and middle finger turned to ash.

“I should stop.” The Sage swallowed, but her gaze wouldn’t leave the thread, and she twisted the thread around to look at the strands interwoven with the fifth hero. “Non-humans.” The Sage snarled. “It isn’t right for them to be bound so tightly to a hero. Best remove them.”

The Sage gripped a dark blue and gold strand, and she pulled, trying to tear it away. Again, energy struck her, but her fingers were stuck to the individual strand. The Sage screamed in pain as the energy coursed through her body.

Fear and horror accompanied the revelation she had. “Foolish girl, what have you done?” The Sage silently cursed as her body turned to ash.