text: “I knew it was you,” the man said, approaching Ired with his arms extended. They had passed each other about a half mile ago. Ired and Siro had been surprised at seeing someone else on this path. Ired first tried to ignore him as he stopped in his tracks and turned to follow, but the strange man charged after Ired and quickly overtook him. “At last, I have found you, Ired of Browerdale, the Chosen one! There is much I have to tell you, but first we must hurry. There are those-” Ired’s blade pierced the man’s heart, silencing him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “What the hell?” Siro cried. “Yeah, I’m really sorry about all this, but it was going to happen at some point.” “I...What? You just killed that guy!” Siro gripped her sword tightly, but did not yet draw. Ired unceremoniously removed his weapon from the man’s corpse, cleaned and sheathed it. “I’m not going to hurt you, Siro. This is just something that happens to me on occasion.” “Murder?” “No. Well, yes, but it’s more complicated. I can explain if you’ll listen,” Ired implored his friend. Siro waited a long second. “Fine,” she finally said, not removing her hand from her sword. “Okay, do you know what Prophecies are?” “What am I, five? Of course I know. Everyone fantasized about being Chosen when they were a kid.” “Yeah, well I *am* Chosen.” Siro’s hand finally dropped. “Really? How? You’re like thirty or something, right? I thought you guys got called when you were sixteen.” “I’m twenty four, thanks. And, yeah, that’s what’s supposed to happen. Thing is, my dad was Chosen too. It’s a family thing, I guess.” “You never talk about your dad.” “He died before I was born. Chosen, remember? We don’t live that long. Thing is, my mom was...I’ll say ‘less than happy’ about what happened to my dad. She did a *bunch* of research on the Prophecies. She read all of them. Seriously. And not just the holy books, she investigated Prophecies that had already come to pass, and learned what actually happened. “She found two things that matter. First, that I was Chosen too. She obviously couldn’t be sure about this, but the circumstances of my birth met all the criteria for one of the Prophecies.” “No way. Which one?” “Don’t know. That’s the second thing she learned. Out of the hundreds of completed Prophecies in history, all but three were self-fulfilling.” “How so?” “It’s not always the same, but more often than not, something a Chosen does early in their ‘quest’ or whatever, causes the whole catastrophic event that they end up dying to stop. So my mom’s theory is, if the Chosen never sets out on their quest, the crazy event never happens, the Chosen doesn’t have to die.” “So, what, when the church tried to call you, you just killed the emissaries?” “Not me, my mom. Poisoned them. One emissary refused to drink the tea - too good to accept hospitality from commoners - so my mom ran him through with a wheat thresher. Hit him in the throat so he wouldn’t scream. I reacted about the same as you did. Mom calmed me down after a while and we had a very similar conversation to this one. We packed up that night and ran. Over the years the church got more aggressive with their calling tactics. A few years ago, they got mom. I’m still here though. That’s what she wanted.” “And you really believe this is going to work?” Siro said, indicating the body. “Well, all Chosen die, right?” “Yeah.” “Yeah. And most of ‘em die as teenagers. A few make it to twenty. As far as I know, only one Chosen made it to twenty one. I’ve got three years on all of them. So, yeah, I believe it’s working.” “Huh...I don’t really know what to say here.” “I know, Siro. I’m sorry. I’ll stay out here tonight, take care of all this. In the morning, I’ll be gone. I won’t tell you where, so if the church comes looking, you won’t have to lie.” Siro silently began her long walk home, but stopped after only a few steps. “No,” she said. “I’m coming with you.” “You can’t be serious. This last year has been amazing, but this is my life. One day, I’ll either get called, or caught dealing with an emissary. Either way things aren’t going to end well for me or anyone with me. Stay here.” Ired began digging a shallow grave for the dead church official. “No. I’m coming.” Ired started to protest, but she cut him off. “You know what it’s like there,” Siro indicated the village they had been returning to. “I don’t want to die, but I sure as hell don’t want to die *there*. I’ll only get out if I run, and my chances won’t get better than now, with someone I trust.” Ired had no response. Losing Siro was something he had prepared for, he had thought it inevitable. This he was not prepared for. “I...Are you sure?” “I’m sure.” “We can’t go back, even for clothes.” Ired estimated how much daylight they had left. “We bury him quick, put as much distance between him and us as we can, and sleep where we fall. When we reach the next province, we can find a real place to rest for a few days and some new clothes. That ok?” Siro nodded, grabbed her trowel and went to work.