Somewhere in the distance a river was born.

Thomas and Isaac watched the water flow through the canyon; their legs were hanging above the chasm that echoed a long-past conversation. With all its deviations and curves, the canyon made the bleak landscape somewhat alluring and helped the eyes of its beholders find repose. Though the sound of water couldn’t make them less nervous, the river provided a motion that kept them thinking. What was it that made the Flamer stare into the oblivion so? Was it the barren land that spread on the other side, the land that had her footsteps forever carved into its soul, or the hidden truths it had uncovered? Maybe it was a little bit of both. He had asked the question and received a proper answer. Refusing to come to terms with it was not one of his luxuries anymore. He had been lied to; deceived and tricked into becoming someone for someone’s sake. Who those people were, was yet another mystery; only this one would never be uncovered.

Once upon a time, Isaac had told Thomas some hours prior to his purgation, there was a girl. As it always is with such girls, she brought about a want of change. Truth be told, the discontent was there centuries before the girl with golden hair and wild red eyes had opened her mouth to wail at her new parents, but it was her fearlessness that awakened the lust for life. That girl was, of course, Clara Heal. But the story Isaac had told with such enthusiasm would have unfolded much differently or, perhaps, would never have been told had she not had some divine assistance. The girl was in fact, born to be different, to change the world that the one, or ones, above saw as unfit. So, she, the first Queen of Crystalia, was blessed with an unusual ability. Or abilities, to be precise. It was a fact well known until that point in time that a single person could only be born with a single ability or without a single ability; all that singularity went to waste when Clara Heal realized she was born with two abilities, to heal and to manipulate gravitation, and even more so when she met the five people who shared her wonder. And thus, the Legendary Six was born. It helped that peculiar story a lot that all five were royals, princes and princesses who had decided to betray their blood-thirsty, power-hungry, Crystalian-hating parents and together with Clara Heal fight the war that was in Thomas’s time known as The Crystalian Revolution. A country was made, a queen crowned, peace achieved.

Except it was not.

Some time into their fight, Isaac explained, the Six had realized that there could be no peace without evil, no true fight without someone wishing to rule the world. That is to say, they met Void, a man so incredibly sinful and wicked, a man who disregarded everyone and everything, and only strove towards his goal of becoming the king of everything. But the good always wins. Except this time, it didn’t. The battle was won. The man was defeated. But the war had only begun; the war that would nullify the flow of time and disregard centuries. The very war they were now fighting. It had all been written in the stars; the fight that the Legendary Six could not finish would be transferred onto their heirs, people powerful enough to receive the names and wonders of the Dove, the Fool, the Priest, the Swan, the Shadow, and the Judge. People who would, once more, defy the singularity imposed by who-knows-whom. But, just as the Legendary Six had a chance to leave their weapons to their descendants, so did Void; in each and every era, in every imaginable lifetime, they were to fight, until, maybe, someday one of their wells would dry up and produce no more warriors, or there would simply be no more ignorant people whose shadows would conceal the world’s one and only truth.

So now, Thomas Hammer was forced to take on the role of the Fool and fight together with his ancient friends; to follow his princess, Clara Heal’s ‘heir’, the Dove, the leader, the savior, the one to bring final peace and, most likely, die prematurely. He was a member of the new Six, one which strove for the same ending their ancestors strove for. But what did it all mean? Who was he truly? Not some great historical figure, that was certain. But it all, strangely, made sense; how he felt close to his princess the first time he held her hand, how she found him in the dark, and how they talked under the stars. And did his mother know? She must have. She knew and hid it from him. She had stolen the map to prevent the Will from ever being discovered. But why? Had she told him sooner, he wouldn’t have spent hours in a haze, wondering when he was going to wake up; about half an hour ago he had realized that he wouldn’t. This madness was his reality. He was in Carcer, listening to a history never told in books. And it strangely made sense. The princess always talked of her destiny and duty; now that he knew what it was, Thomas felt strangely sympathetic.

“It took some time for my power to manifest as well,” Isaac said abruptly. “I didn’t believe it at first. I mean, who would? But it’s true. You can feel it, can’t you?”

“I can. I always could.”

“The Judge told me that the only condition for Clara Heal’s future to come true is for the Six to meet as equals.”

Thomas snickered. “What does that even mean? And how does this Judge person know that?”

“It means that all members of the Six must accept their role. That is why we had to wait for you to be ready, so you wouldn’t get scared and run away.” Isaac carefully glanced at Thomas. “But it’s all good now. I am happy you are taking this so well.”

“Sure.”

“And when it comes to the Judge… Well, it’s not completely clear to me either, but she receives messages from Clara Heal.”

“What?! How is that possible?” Thomas stopped for a moment, looked at Isaac, and then added, “But of course it’s possible. Everything is possible, it seems.”

Once the well of wonder had dried up, the only thing left was anger and resentment. It was all his fault, his weakness. They were all waiting for him. And now that he had to save the world…

What does that even mean? What, save the world? Me? I can’t do that! I am not Diane or Isaac or George. Even this Judge person is remarkable! And who am I? Some lousy flour-loader who can’t even put two and two together because he’s too scared! King, I wish… I wish… What do I wish for? What do I want? Who am I? Who is this person sitting next to me? What is this world? It makes no sense! No, it makes perfect sense. King, my head hurts!

“Diane wanted to tell you, but the Judge told her she should wait. In the end, I guess it does make sense,” Isaac continued.

“I guess it does.”

“But don’t dwell on it too much. You’re one of us now. That’s all that matters,” Isaac said, throwing little stones down into the river.

“I guess.”

“Are you angry?” Isaac smiled again and patted Thomas on the shoulder.

Thomas sighed loudly. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“Well, I guess I would if everyone kept something like this from me,” Isaac replied.

“It’s not you all I am angry with.”

Isaac looked at him with too much intensity, like he would swallow him whole if Thomas ever dared say anything similar again. “Regret is for the weak, Thomas. You are not allowed that anymore. Even if you feel like gauging your own eyes out, you must never show it. It must never affect your performance. Or we have problems. Okay?”

Thomas shivered. Really, for the first time in his life. Then he remembered Diane’s story. She disobeyed. And then? “Understood. I’m sorry.”

Isaac’s lips softened again. “No problem.” Thomas could see clearly that Isaac was uncomfortable. The more time he spent with the prince, the less he understood him. Compared to him, Diane was an open book.

“So, about Diane’s power…”

“Everything concerning Diane Hunster, you ask Diane Hunster.” Isaac threw another little stone into the river. “Or better yet, don’t ask at all. Curiosity killed the cat, Thomas. What happened to Diane happened because she didn’t listen.” Then he sighed and the mask slipped off for a moment. “When people like us make mistakes, it is the world that bares the consequences. You understand that, don’t you?”

Thomas nodded. “Do her parents know?” he asked, desperate to change the look in Isaac’s eyes.

“Diane’s?” Isaac looked at him under his eyes, like he was sure Thomas was making a joke. “What do you think?”

“Right. Of course. That is why he made her become a Raven. To teach her how to stay alive.”

“And to keep her obedient. The Ravens are also Clara Heal’s creation.”

“So?”

“So, we all have to make sure that Diane does exactly as Clara Heal intended. Otherwise, there is no telling how this will end. And we would all like to stay alive, wouldn’t we?”

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“Yes.”

The wind carried grains of sand and particles of lost energy. Another hour passed in silence. Neither of the two thought about anything too important; one’s thoughts were occupied by his father, and the other’s by his lack thereof. Would either of them have been different had they had a father like Diane’s? Most definitely. Did it make them pity her?

“Do you like Diane?” Thomas asked.

Isaac twitched. “I don’t know. I’ve known her too long to be able to say. I didn’t like her at first, that’s for sure. She had this strange aura… like she thought she was above everyone. And she was, I just didn’t like being looked down on. Now… I guess I feel sorry for her. I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes. I guess I even grew to like her a little.” Isaac then looked at Thomas filled with angst and warning. “What about you? Are you also a little afraid of the Destiny’s puppet?”

Thomas lay on his back so he wouldn't have to look at Isaac. “I am not sure what I feel, but I wouldn’t say it’s fear.”

“Really?” Isaac tried to hide his disappointment by showing Thomas his best smile.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I wouldn’t know. I only repeat what I have been told.”

Then, just as Thomas was about to say something, a faint sound exploded from the dry forest behind them. It seemed to have been carried there by the wind together with such a strong miasma Thomas’s eyes shut slightly. Both young men jumped up, silent. Isaac only looked at Thomas and the latter hid behind the prince’s back a little. The former pulled an arrow and drew it back, so his elbow was right next to Thomas’s face. In an instant he would kill, pierce right through the heart. Once the creature showed itself, the steel would suck in all its inner liquids and leave it dry, sorry for ever disturbing their peace. As the panting got louder and heavier, both relaxed their muscles. Whatever it was, it would die before the arrow reached it. But then half-dead Jeremy Blake dived out of the shadows with one arm cut off and the other so severely broken and flayed it was barely intact. There was so much blood on his uniform Thomas had almost mistaken him for one of his flames. The two didn’t run up to him quickly enough; by the time Isaac was holding Jeremy in his arms the life had already half-left his soul. “Danger” and “George” were the only two words he was able to utter. Not even Isaac was blessed with enough healing power to stitch back life, so the prince was, for the first time in the twenty-three years of his life, left holding a corpse. But that was only the beginning of their worries; the moment they had left Jeremy and George Brown alone they had doomed the last specks of traquility they had had left. The Judge would have helped, were she not too busy. Isaac kept violently pressing his hands against Jeremy’s torso, hoping that the glow in his veins would somehow bring him back to life.

Thomas pulled his shoulder after a few minutes and yelled: “Isaac! We need to find George!”

Isaac bolted up and ran into the withered forest. Thomas followed him, ignoring Jeremy’s body and the guilt that had spread throughout his body. The sudden vigor allowed them to move quickly, so they were back to where they left the three, faster than they could have imagined. But the space was empty; there was nothing but them and the burnt nature. Completely ignoring Thomas’s presence, Isaac started running around, looking behind the nearby trees and bushes. But George was nowhere to be found, as if the land of his ancestors had swallowed him whole.

Isaac looked at the reddish sky hidden by dust. “Go find Diane,” he told Thomas once he was finally able to face him.

“But I can’t cross,” Thomas replied, more conscious than his teammate.

“I don’t care! Do something!” Isaac yelled. He had his hands on his hips, on his head, and occasionally in his mouth. He was spinning around constantly; maybe he thought George would suddenly appear behind his back, but only for a moment, and he would, thus, miss him.

Thomas grabbed Isaac’s shoulders and pulled him, so they were face to face. “Isaac!” he yelled back. “Calm down!” But it was useless. Thomas saw clearly that he was not present in the moment, so he slapped Isaac on the face to get at least a bit of his attention. “Stay here. Do you hear me?!”

And the Dove, who was by that time already so weak in her burning determination to find out the truth, could not hear the wailings of a befriended Florian and Flamer. But she heard one of their names echo in her mind. He was all around, in the withered trees, ash sky, and dust-covered grass. She could smell his blood on her hands; it was another pair of hands, a pair not yet dirtied by reality, but chapped from all the corpses she had carried in the past; when she was someone else, someone cruel and undefeated, when she was a Raven. Now she was a Dove without wings to fly. She had run past those trees some time ago, before she had had a letter in her pocket and a deep realization that she had never been anything but Clara Heal’s marionette. Diane was exhausted, not only from pushing her body long over its current limit but from having finally accepted that she had to, in whatever way she could, obliterate what she had spent her recent life believing in. And there was no queen, no mother, and no Dove that could change her mind.

So, she ran without paying attention to her knees shaking and her breathing quickening to the point of suffocation. Diane was quickly back to the canyon, but the boys were gone. She yelled out their names to no avail. She kept turning around and after twenty minutes of careful observation admitted that there were, again, only two options: either they had somehow found a way to cross over to her side and go after her, missing her along the way, or something bad had happened. She had no means of crossing over by herself, so she decided to run back to the cave, this time slower. The moment she turned around and pushed herself forwards by pure willpower, she realized she could no longer move; only when she fell, did she admit she could no longer breathe. There was nothing she could do but wait. That was when she remembered that Thomas had given her his gerlock, just in case she needed help; if she was lucky, Isaac still had his, so she smashed hers and looked at the line that pointed to the other side. Diane had faith they would see it and find her. And they did. Only they were too consumed by fear to notice it at first. And while the princess waited, they counted the ways in which an arm could be cut off. But Thomas Hammer did acknowledge the existence of a, now faint, purple line coming from the gerlock inside Isaac’s pocket.

“Isaac!” he yelled and ripped Isaac’s pocket open, grabbed the precious stone, and ran away. Did he think he could save a corpse? No, he was not a fool. But he did, somehow, think Diane Hunster would find a way. To do what? He did not know. But she would. She always did.

That was the third time Thomas was running down the same road. Each time he did so, he wished more and more he had never stretched out his hand. If he had continued living a lie, he would have been perfectly content. George and Jeremy would have died either way, only he wouldn’t have had to grieve. It was his almost humane weakness that now pushed him forward faster than before; it was Diane’s body he could never survive seeing. Thomas was happy Destiny seemed to have had other plans; the princess was patiently waiting for him on the other side of the canyon.

“Thomas!” she yelled as she noticed his light brown hair and black uniform. “Where were you?!”

His body did not burn strongly enough to warm her up anymore and her eyes lacked that maddening faith that made him utter vows he now regretted. They were gone, the princess and the peasant; it was the Dove that now talked to the Fool.

“You need to cross over!” Thomas yelled back.

Even from the other side of the canyon, the princess could feel his distress. “Where is Isaac?”

“I told you to cross over!”

“I can’t!”

Diane could not hear his answer; her head was smashed against the ground so vigorously a portion of the cliff broke off and fell into the river. Thomas watched her lie still before Rose, particles of scanty energy rising from the point of impact into the air and disappearing. Rose blew Thomas a kiss and pushed her hand into Diane’s pocket to take out the Will. Rose’s heart pumped so much excitement through her body she could have jumped right over the void, killed Thomas, and sealed the future into Clara Heal’s grave. But she didn’t; the Judge had told her not to. Instead, she stood with the Will in her hands, shaking. She was reluctant to read it, despite it being her ultimate task; it would bring her peace and glory, yet she was unable to connect the lines of letters into meanings that would make her God see worth in her existence.

Thomas’s world turned off its lights. He was suddenly nowhere, seeing nothing and feeling nothing but rage. Two down, two and a half more to go; or was it already three? There was a pool of blood under his feet; his shoes would soak it up and mix it with his own. Maybe then he would finally live up to his potential. Then, there was that whisper again. And the smell of wood. Broken branches and fire. The sound of desperation and fading of life. He could grasp it if he wanted to. He could shape it, shift it, enhance it. Enhance his flames. Create a bridge?

Do it.

Could he truly? After all this time? With no mistakes? What if it kills him?

Does it matter?

No.

Then why not? She would do it for you.

She did it for herself.

Then do it for yourself.

He could see through the fire that enwrapped him; so powerful, so pure, and so angry yet controllable. It was his fire and his future. But Rose was already reading The Will. The princess was not moving, and the solution had to be found quickly. Rose didn’t have time to react. By the time she had realized what was happening on the other side of the canyon, the will she was desperately holding onto had erupted into such roaring flames that it was gone within a second. It consumed her hands up to her elbows before disappearing, and it left her seeing pink. Then the Demons all lit up, one by one, like candles. She was about to cross over and end it all when the Judge’s soft voice reminded her of their goal.

It is not yet time.

She made sure to glue the Flamer to the ground before she took off. But he was not that person anymore; he would never be that person again. Now the king of the future, Thomas rose to his knees first and, looking at Diane’s lifeless body and the damaged stone, wondered if there truly was nothing he could have done. It was hot in his veins, so he squeezed his fingers into a fist and felt his body suck in all the mockery in the air and tell him that he would be the one to save the future queen. Raw strength flew through his mucles. He had seen her do it before. It was nothing new. Only he was able to do it by himself. He made sure not to leave too big of a hole on his side of the canyon as he jumped. While in the air, he recalled her dark hair spilling all over the sky. All that freedom choked him; he was glad to have his feet touch the ground once again. His boots landed right next to her face; had he moved a bit to the left when he jumped, he would have crushed her skull. Thomas picked Diane up slowly and looked at her bloody face. It seemed that she was able to use the last bits of energy she had to escape death but was still in such a sorry condition Thomas dared not look at her for too long. He put her on his back and made another jump, the one Diane Hunster was too weak to attempt.

Then he looked back and, sick of all the motion, said: “I hope nothing green ever grows on this cursed land.”