The Forsaken Hero

With the arrival of the royal heirs, the gazebo became much more lively. Servants and guards circled around, attending to our every need and desire. Whenever a crystal chalice emptied, a new one was already being poured.

The initial tension of their arrival was quick to fade, as both Belisa and Benjamin proved skilled in a social setting. Their words were crisp and polite, never straying into territory that made anyone uncomfortable. It was clean and sanitized, almost making me miss the rude, pretentious atmosphere Belisa had carried with her.

The change was centered around the prince, who rarely looked away from Elise. He was tall and strapping, with dark eyes and hair. He had a few freckles on his cheeks and a low laugh that sounded genuine and sincere. His eyes glowed warmly, and though his right hand never strayed far from the sword belted at his waist, he felt...gentle. Even Elise lowered her guard, allowing herself to smile and occasionally giggle at his jokes and witty remarks, often made at his own expense. It wasn’t at all how the prince was supposed to act. He should be cold and aloof, calculating every word to bring himself more power and influence. No matter how closely I watched or how I read into his words, I couldn’t figure out why he was being so nice or what angle he was trying to take with his interest in Elise.

As the servants began clearing our dishes away, Belisa leaned across the table, eyes shining as she looked at R’lissea.

”Is it true you invented a method of healing corruption?” she asked.

R’lissea blinked, tilting her head slightly. ”Where did you hear something like that?”

Belisa said, ”One of our informants mentioned they’d gathered a rumor like that. But is it true?”

The elf’s eyes flicked to me. I gave her a subtle nod. The fact that she would bring it up meant she was more than aware, didn’t it? What use was there in hiding it?

”It is,” she admitted. ”Xiviyah and I created a spell that heals more permanent afflictions from both demons and mortals.”

”Including sunpurge, right? Wasn’t the Oracle afflicted?” Benjamin asked, joining the conversation.

All eyes turned to me. Tail flicking anxiously, I clasped a hand to my shoulder, covering the flesh where golden scars had once burned.

”We didn’t have a choice. If I hadn’t figured out how to do it, she would have died,” R’lissea said.

”Your humility is admirable, but take pride in yourself,” Benjamin said. ”You’ve done what no mage or healer has ever done before. Not one in ten thousand mages create a new spell, and not so powerful at that.”

R’lissea flushed slightly. ”I...it’s not so impressive. Xiviyah creates new spells every time she summons her mana.”

Belisa gasped. ”The filthblood? But how–”

She clapped her hands over her mouth, looking at Benjamin guiltily. The price glared at her, and she dropped her eyes to her lap.

”Sorry,” she muttered.

”That’s...not the worst I’ve been called,” I said softly.

”Forgive her. She’s always been willful and crude,” Benjamin said.

”Have not,” Belisa sulked. ”It’s just...you’re a demonkin.”

”Apologize to the Oracle,” Elaine said sternly.

The ninth-level being had been content to keep her silence throughout the entire meal, allowing the royal pair a chance to engage us themselves. This, it seemed, was crossing the line mandating her silence.

”But I–” Belisa began.

”No ’buts.’ How often must you hear that insulting guests is unbecoming of a princess? Your tutors must be pulling out their hair,” Elaine said. ”You cannot remain insolent or you will only sully the name of Blacksand.”

Belisa’s eyes flashed, but, surprisingly, she lowered her proud head. ”Forgive me, oracle,” she said sullenly.

I dipped my head, accepting the apology for what it was. It might be the first time I’d ever actually heard those words like this before. It felt...strange. Undeserved, even. No matter how lonely the slur made me feel, it was as familiar as my own name. On a technical level, the actual meaning wasn’t that different, either.

”Oracle. What a strange title,” Benjamin said, ”However did you come by it?”

I frowned, shifting my gaze to the prince. He sat back in his chair, holding a goblet by its delicate stem. His tone of voice was casual, nor did he express any interest, but something about his composure was too perfect.

”An Oracle is one who sees,” Elise answered for me.

”Sees?” Benjamin asked.

Belisa perked up. ”The future, right?”

I hesitated, reaching down to scoop up the twitching tip of my tail. The constant movement was embarrassing, so I held it tightly, not letting it escape.

”Sometimes. Some futures. Most of them never come to pass.”

”Have you seen me in the future?” she asked.

”Perhaps,” I said, smiling at her.

She was the same age as me, almost fifteen, but there was something childish and naive about her. Had she grown up so sheltered in the court that the world hadn’t tainted her yet? Was that why she was so carefree?

But even if the question was born of pure curiosity on her part, Benjamin drew a quick breath, his eyes sharpening.

”So you have, then?” he asked.

I half expected Elaine to reprimand them for pushing me so, yet she was oddly quiet, watching me with the same intent gaze as the prince. Something clicked, and I sighed, letting my tail slip free. So that was it. She was trying to use them to leverage something from me. Had I not given her enough already?

”Elaine, what do you want?” I asked. After everything we’ve been through, could you not just ask?”

The woman’s eyes darted at the prince, then returned to me so quickly that I almost missed it.

”I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” she said.

I took a deep breath, folding my hands in my lap.

”I suffered ten thousand visions watching this empire turn to ash over and over for must have been literal months. I watched you die more times than I could count, all so I could find the one future where you didn’t. And during that time, I watched you lie to me over and over, hiding secrets or comforting me. Please, don’t lie to me in real life, too.”

She pursed her lips. ”I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I have nothing to ask of you.”

”But I–”

”It’s me, Oracle,” Benjamin said. ”I’m the one who asked to meet you. Elaine just provided the opportunity.”

”What do you want from her?” Elise asked, regarding him with a bit of the caution she had when they first arrived.

”I was, well, wondering if she would be able to grant me a vision,” he admitted.

”Fifty thousand lives,” I said quietly.

The whole table went quiet, everyone sharing looks with each other. Even Elise and R’lissea seemed confused.

”I’m sorry?” Benjamin asked.

I met his gaze, and this time, it was he who broke away, shivering for some reason.

”That’s how many lives Luke traded for a single vision. What do you have to offer? Every man, woman, and child in the world wants to know fate. Why should I give you what they cannot have?”

R’lissea and Elise gave me strange looks, and I nearly lost my composure, barely keeping the blush from my face. Speaking so pretentiously was what had earned me the Oracle of Eternity in the first place. But I had to be sure of his intentions.

The crown prince was silent for a long, long time. No one else dared speak, and they looked away whenever they met my gaze. It was so quiet I could hear the soft gurgle of the fountain beneath our gazebo. The starlight aura seemed brighter than before, swirling like mist around me.

Finally, he spoke. ”What does the sailor pay for the lantern upon the lighthouse?”

I froze, tail going rigid. That wasn’t fair at all. I didn’t know the next thing about the ships or sailors. This was supposed to be a question about fate!

Benjamin seemed taken aback at seeing me get all flustered, and looked helplessly at Elaine. The ninth-level woman smiled but didn’t speak, settling back in her chair and folding her arms.

”It’s a...a metaphor,” Benjamin said. ”The lanterns show ships where rocks and shoals are. Without them, vessels would run aground or wreck.”

Elise’s eyes lit up. ”You mean a lighthouse! Brithlite has a few of them on the coast. The state pays the men who keep the night watch, not the sailors.”

Benjamin smiled in relief, causing her to flush for some reason.

”Thanks, I was afraid I lost everyone there.”

”You did,” Belisa said with a giggle. ”I learned all about those, and I still have no idea where you’re going.”

Benjamin frowned at her before turning back to me. ”The important thing to know is that it’s not the responsibility of the watch to turn the ship, but to shine the light. And you are the light, Oracle. I, and our whole empire, saw that on the Day of Cinders. But it is my responsibility a the future emperor to guide the ship. If the future is dark, I will avert it. And if it is bright, I will do everything in my power to ensure we reach it.”

Day of Cinders? Did he mean the battle with the dragons? Was that what the people were calling it?

”You could have just said that,” I mumbled, flushing red.

He smiled, rubbing his cheek. ”I suppose I get a little dramatic every once in a while. But my point stands. I offer you nothing but my oath that I shall act on what you give me. Good or ill, I will strive to protect this empire and the people you sacrificed so much to save.”

He held his head proudly, challenging, no, perhaps daring me to refuse his words. I didn’t, instead nodding.

”Very well. If it is a star you seek, I shall grant you one. Yet, be warned, the future is darker than you know.”

He let out a long breath, looking relieved. ”Are you ready now?”

I held out my hand toward him, palm up. Starlight danced across my fingers like sparks. ”Are you?”