How can I save the world if I’m no longer the hero?

Joan repeated the words in her head for what felt like the thousandth time. Searle was one of the chosen. He was one of her friends. He was not going to kill her. Still, having him watch over her only made her feel more anxious with every second. She kept waiting for the face he showed her to change, for the villain she’d known for so long to rear its ugly head. He was one of the chosen, one of the ones who would save the world. More importantly, the demon lord hadn’t been killed yet, so there was no logical reason for it to be able to corrupt him.

So why couldn’t she convince her feelings to accept that?

“Are you okay?” Searle’s voice came from her right, making her cringe.

“I’m fine,” she said softly, trying to keep herself from bursting into a run. She’d finally been allowed to get out of bed after being forced to rest in it for three days. Being locked in an infirmary for so long had made her so stir crazy she’d been ready to jump out a window. She’d only grudgingly been allowed to go on a walk when Searle had agreed to go with her.

“Is it always that quiet in there?” she finally asked, glancing towards the chosen.

“The infirmary?” Searle asked.

“Yes. I always figured it would be busier.” Once more she tried to scramble through her memories and organize the ones from her time here. She knew she had spent quite a bit of time in the infirmary, but now that she thought about it, she couldn’t remember very many other students being there. In fact, she couldn’t remember him being there very often either.

“Most students don’t end up there as often as you do,” he said before cringing. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that you were, err...”

“Weak?” Joan said.

“Reckless,” Searle said quickly.

“I’m just weak,” Joan said before feeling a small knot of frustration form in her stomach. She wasn’t reckless. It was only reckless to charge at a monster if you weren’t powerful enough to face it head on. “I’m far too weak.”

“Far too weak for what?” Searle asked.

“Just weak. Why are you there now? You didn’t seem to be around much when I was there before,” Joan asked, cringing at the harshness in her tone. “Sorry. It just seems like you’re spending too much time there now. You have more important things to do, don’t you?”

Searle quickly looked away from her. “I actually help them all the time. I just tried to keep out when you got hurt. I asked the others to let me know when you were coming by, so I could make sure I wasn’t there.”

Joan stumbled and nearly fell over, before turning to look at him. “What? You did? Why would you do that?”

“You always seemed wary around me, I didn’t want to make your recovery any worse,” Searle said sheepishly.

Joan opened her mouth to object, before giving a soft sigh and letting the words die in her throat. He was right. She had always been so scared of him, though she had denied it at the time. Had she known he’d be there when she went, she likely would have fought even harder to not go to the infirmary at all. She rubbed her wrist, memories of all the times it had been strained or broken coming to mind. Now that she thought about it, even then they had seemed like such minor, if painful, injuries. If she knew that Searle was there she likely would have tried to pretend everything was fine. “Thank you. That was very kind of you.”

“I’m sorry I can’t do that now. Hardwin ordered me to not let you out of my sight.”

“I’m not surprised.” Joan was at least thankful that Hardwin hadn’t told Searle everything about who and what she was, the last person she wanted to know was him. She found her eyes drawn down the hall. Occasionally other students would pass by, but the moment their eyes landed on the pair of them, they quickly cleared the area. “It seems you becoming a chosen has caused quite the stir.”

“I don’t think they’re trying to avoid me,” Searle said sheepishly.

Joan stopped in mid stride and glanced towards him. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing!” Searle said quickly, the panic obvious in his voice.

Joan felt her anger rising and quickly pushed it back down. She wondered why he always felt the need to cower and pull back from her. He was a CHOSEN, if anyone should have been cowering it was her. “Tell me. What does that mean? Is there something wrong with me? Why would anyone be scared of me of all people? I’m harmless.”

She couldn’t help but notice the way he kept his eyes from looking at hers when he said that. “Right. Harmless. That is a word that could be used to describe you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, her voice rising a little louder and anger growing even more.

“It’s just, err, I uhhhh… I say this… with… err… you’re kind of--”

“For a twelve year old girl you often act like an old hag who’s been left out in the snow,” a voice said.

Joan’s head whipped around and she caught sight of Bauteut walking towards them. “I do not! Searle, that’s not true, is it?” she asked, turning back to face him. He continued to refuse to look her in the eyes at all, instead studying the wall.

Bauteut gave a sigh, finally stopping behind Joan and kneeling down slightly to look her in the eye. “There have been a lot of rumors going about that you’re one of the chosen now. People are, admittedly, a little worried about what you’ll do to them if they anger you.”

“How could anyone be worried about me?” she asked. “When have I ever done anything even the least bit--” Her words were cut off when Bauteut burst into laughter. Even Searle had to move a hand over his mouth, trying to hide his laughter. “What?”

“Oh, let me list the reasons,” Bauteut said. “Name one person at this school other than me and Searle.”

Joan snorted, but decided to play the silly game. “There’s instructor--”

“Name a student,” Bauteut said quickly, cutting her off.

Joan opened her mouth to speak, only to stop. Try as she might, she couldn’t name any of the other students. She could remember faces, even their fighting styles. But she couldn’t name any of them. “There’s the elf girl, with the blue hair. She’s a pyromancer. I think. And there’s--”

“Can you remember anyone’s name, at all? How about the ones you challenged during your time here? How about any of the ones who were put into the infirmary after your challenges?”

“No. But those weren’t my fault, they were training accidents,” Joan finally said, lowering her eyes. Try as she might, all she could feel was shame. How could she had been here for over a year and not know the names of anyone? Wasn’t there anyone she had bonded with at all? Were her only real interactions with other students here challenging them to see how she compared?

“Exactly. Joan, you’re a little rough with people. It’s intimidating, even from a little girl. Possibly because you’re such a little girl,” Bauteut said, her voice going from harsh to soft. Slowly the girl reached out and softly pat her on the head. “It’s okay, though. I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Joan whispered. “I didn’t mean it. I just...” She trailed off and thought back towards her past lives. Had she meant it? Aside from a select few people, she’d barely noticed anyone. In fact, aside from people who were the chosen, most of the people she remembered knowing long enough to actually form any kind of bond were her enemies. She felt a small knot of guilt forming in her stomach.

“I know, I know,” Bauteut said softly, soothingly stroking her hair. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing better.”

“You do?” Joan asked.

“Yes. After all, I think I’m the fourth, possibly fifth healer to have this little talk with you.”

Joan frowned. She didn’t remember any healer ever telling her she should-- oh. Those memories came to her mind and she mentally kicked herself. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to listen.”

“I know. But you can work on that. That’s the good thing about being so young,” Bauteut said gently. “You’ve got all the time in the world to grow, especially now.”

“Huh? Why now?” Joan asked. She felt a small bit of panic at the idea of the other girl having, somehow, found out what she was.

“Lord Hardwin has claimed you as his daughter. You won’t have to push yourself so hard to avoid ending up without a home now. And as fathers go, you could have done far worse. I’ve heard the chosen are often so busy that they rarely have time to mingle with the courts. You’ll likely have years before he tries to marry you off.”

Joan’s mouth fell open. Marry her off. The very notion of Hardwin trying to marry her off to ANYONE was so preposterous she only barely avoided bursting into laughter. That humor quickly turned to dread when she realized that it was, in fact, a very real possibility. “I mean, I don’t actually know if he’s my father. It’s just a suspicion is all,” she said quickly, trying to push those thoughts aside. She had a world to save before she could even begin to worry about that grim fate.

“Oh, of course it is,” Bauteut said with a laugh. “The rumors are already spreading, you know. It’s only a matter of time before his lordship gets requests to have you betrothed. You are his only child, after all. Illegitimate or not, as the child of one of the chosen you’d have quite a few possibilities.”

Joan stared up at the girl, her mind starting to whirl in a panic. Betrothed? She’d never even been married in her past lives. There wasn’t any time to worry about such things when they were fighting. A moment later it dawned on her that the grin on the healer’s face was only getting bigger. “You’re just teasing me, aren’t you?” She reached up and knocked the other girl’s hand away from her hair.

“A little. You’re almost cute when you’re horrified,” Bauteut said in a teasing tone that made Joan want to kick her. Alas, she felt that would only amuse the healer more.

“You’re lucky you’re a healer,” Joan said softly.

“You’re lucky you’re smart enough to remember that. Try to relax, Joan. You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep this up, in more ways than one. You’re still recovering.”

“I will, okay? I’ll be careful. I’m not even running. I even have an escort now,” she said, motioning towards Searle. “I couldn’t be safer than with the chosen of the shield, now could I?”

“I don’t know about that,” Searle said with a shake of his head. “I have a shield, but I’m not really good with it.”

“Try and show a little more confidence, Searle,” Bauteut said with a sigh. “When a kid says you’re going to protect her, you need to agree with them. After all, you’re one of the chosen now. A lot of people are going to be looking up to you.”

Searle shook his head. “I guess. I’m not much older than her, though. Honestly I think Joan would have made a much better chosen than me. She--”

“But I’m not a chosen so that doesn’t really matter, now does it?” Joan asked, cutting him off. She felt a small knot of annoyance beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. In the end, he was one of the chosen. He had more capability than she could ever have. She felt like a mouse watching a griffon whine about how weak it was. If he had just a fraction of her knowledge and experience, then there would be no ends to his capabilities. She--

That thought made her freeze and her mind run.

“Joan?” Bauteut asked, waving a hand in front of her face. “Err, are you okay?”

It was so obvious, how had she missed it? Even if she wasn’t allowed to push herself for a couple of days, she could still push him. More importantly, she DID know how he could be useful. She’d seen him fight for years, she knew all of his little tricks and movements. Or at least, enough of them. She knew his spells, his techniques, his abilities. She knew what he was capable of. Better yet, she had used the shield, albeit only a handful of times. There was nobody better.

“Is she okay?” Searle asked.

“What?” Joan asked, finally realizing the two were staring at her with worry. “Oh. Right. Sorry. Searle, come with me. We’re going to prac-- grk!” An arm wrapped around her neck and she was yanked back, held again Bauteut’s chest.

“The hell you are!” the healer snapped, staring down at Joan with such fire in her eyes that she couldn’t help but whimper.

“But--”

“If you think for even one moment I’m going to let you pick up ANY weapon and start fighting, you’re insane,” Bauteut said, her voice making Joan cower just a little.

Joan tried to gather what courage she could to face this girl. She didn’t know how a girl only a few years her senior could be more intimidating than the Troll of Reflections, but she blamed the healer side of her. “Not me. Searle. I’m going to help him practice with his shield. He--”

“There are instructors for that,” Bauteut said, cutting her off again.

“There’s no time for that!” Joan said, her hands reaching up and trying to pull the other girl’s arm off from around her neck. It was a sign of how tired she was that she couldn’t move it at all. Or maybe Bauteut was just far stronger than she’d expected.

“What, do you think you can do a better job training him than the instructors?”

“Yes!” Joan said, unable to stop herself from saying it. The look of surprise on the other girl’s face made her regret the words instantly. She wondered just how arrogant that had sounded. At least the arm around her loosened slightly. “I won’t fight, I promise. But I know some things that I think might help him. That will help him. I just need to show him. I am a graduate, after all. I wouldn’t have been allowed to if I wasn’t good at what I do.”

“No,” Bauteut said again. “You’re hurt and recovering. Searle, help me get her back to her room. I swear, you’re like a little demon sometimes.”

“Wait,” Searle said, lifting a hand. “Joan. What do you mean there’s no time?” he asked. “What’s happening?”

Joan went quiet, shaking her head. Telling him of all people just wasn’t smart. “I just… Searle, trust me.”

“Joan, please. What have you seen?” Searle asked again.

Bauteut loosened her grip a bit more. “Seen? What do you mean, seen?”

“Joan’s a seer,” Searle said.

“Wait, what?” Bauteut asked, suddenly pulling her arms back. “You’re a seer? That’s not, why haven’t I heard of, there’s no way that’s possible!”

Joan’s mouth opened and she stared at Bauteut. Why had that caused her to pull back so quickly? Bauteut didn’t seem afraid though. She couldn’t have looked more excited if she were hopping up and down.

“It’s true,” Searle said with a nod. “That’s how she knew I was one of the chosen. She also sent Lord Hardwin to the next chosen and apparently to deal with some threat, thanks to her abilities.”

“You can really see the future? You’re an actual seer?” Bauteut asked. “Can you see my future?”

“I’m afraid not,” Joan said quickly. She wasn’t sure why this was such a big deal to the girl, but if it helped her plans move along, then she would use it to her advantage. “I can only see the future of the chosen and only things that may happen. But I also have a lot of information about what they are. What they can become.” Her fists clenched tightly and she turned back to the chosen, trying to look as confident and strong as she could. “Searle, bad things are coming. You need to be ready. All of the chosen need to be ready. I can help you in ways nobody else can.”

Searle stared at her for a few long seconds before speaking up. “Can you make me as strong as Lord Hardwin?” he asked.

“I may be able to make you stronger.” That, at least, she knew was a lie. But she could see that look in his eyes. She had him. That just left one obstacle in her path. She turned back to Bauteut and her eyes widened again. Bauteut was staring at her with awe and amazement. “I won’t fight, I promise. So is that okay?”

“Huh? Oh. Right. Yes. But only if I come with you and supervise. I cannot have you running off and getting hurt on your own like that, understand?” Bauteut asked, though Joan had a feeling that the other girl wasn’t being entirely honest with her at all.

“That’s fair,” Joan said with a small smile. “Let’s head down to the training grounds, then. It might get a bit intense at times, Searle. But please, trust me.”

------

“So can you see everything about them? Or just bits and pieces? Can you choose what you see? How long have you known you were a seer? When did you have your first vision?” Bauteut asked in a steady stream.

Joan struggled to focus on Searle while still trying to listen to the healer’s questions. The other girl seemed absolutely overjoyed at the idea of meeting a seer and, unfortunately, didn’t seem to want to allow the idea to pass. The pair sat on small stools in one of the small, covered training yards. The roof kept it nice and cool, while the lack of walls allowed a gentle breeze to help whisk away sweat. Still, she wished that one of the buildings had been available, unfortunately there were a large number of classes going on at this time and they were lucky to even be able to use this area. She kept seeing students passing by and watching, before quickly running off the moment she turned to look at them. She wondered if she really was seen as that intimidating. She didn’t understand how, Searle was already far more dangerous than she would likely ever be. While he currently lacked the power that she had, he already had far more stamina and endurance than she likely ever would.

Joan felt a small flash of annoyance filter through her once more when she watched him standing there, holding his shield firmly in his left hand. The shield itself was amorphous, able to shift its size and general shape to the desires of its wielder. In this case, it was a spiked tower shield that he swung around with such ease it might as well have weighed little more than a dagger. To him it likely did, yet another advantage of the chosen weapons. She wondered how much a shield like that would normally weigh. Would she have even been able to lift one so large normally?

Yes. Maybe? Doubtful. Not without reinforcing her body with magic. Once again she cursed herself for her weakness.

“Not everything, no. But a lot. It tells me a lot of information I wouldn’t normally have,” Joan said softly, keeping the annoyance out of her voice as best she could. “I can’t really choose what’s seen, it just happens. I think I’ve always been one, but it didn’t really come alive until I met Hardwin. I don’t know when I had my first. I used to have a lot of nightmares when I was a little girl, maybe it was then.”

“You’re a little girl now,” Bauteut said in a soft, teasing tone.

Joan’s cheeks turned a shade redder, but she ignored it and diverted her attention to the chosen. “Good! Now that you’ve got that down, let’s try something more complex. Try shifting the form of the shield so it has a reflective surface, with a prong at each of the four cardinal directions. Then try arching your magic between them! Make sure the shield isn’t aiming at anything but the ground!” she yelled out to Searle.

He gave a nod, the shield slowly shifting into a large, rounded silvery form. She could make out her reflection in it even when the prongs began to rise from each direction. A smug sense of vengeance filled her. He was one of the chosen and the skills she’d been teaching him had initially been ones he had used. The ease with which his body picked them up was a harsh reminder that he still had the power and skills of one of the chosen, while she clearly did not. As such, the piercing aurora was one of the skills he’d always learned so late in their adventures, if he learned it at all, that she imagined it would take him days, if not weeks, to learn it. If he even could, yet. She knew it was petty, but she couldn’t resist getting a little vengeance on him for being so superior to her.

The thoughts were cut off when suddenly a beam of white magical light shot out from the shield, digging a deep, burning hole into the ground.

“Wow,” Searle whispered, his voice filled with awe. “How did I do that?” he asked.

“How did you do that?!” Joan asked. Both of her companions turned to her.

“I was just doing what you told me,” Searle said. “I mean, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I mean, yes. I did, but I didn’t think you’d get it so fast,” she said, trying to cover for herself.

She couldn’t believe it. How could he already use that attack so easily? It wasn’t nearly as powerful as she remembered it being, but that was likely because it was only his first time. But for him to already be able to use such a technique when he had only just acquired the shield flooded her with shame. It was a spell that, as she was, she could never even hope to cast. She doubted anyone who wasn’t a chosen would ever attempt such a thing. In fact, any shield would likely be destroyed in the attempt, aside from the chosen’s.

Yet he had picked it up in seconds. He could already use it with more force and power than even the strongest spells she could wield now. Once again his capabilities as a chosen taught her just how meaningless she truly was.

“Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?” Searle asked, lowering the shield to his side and quickly walking towards her.

“I’m fine,” Joan said. She was less even than Searle. She wondered if there would ever be an end to this veritable stampede of humiliation that was her life.

Bauteut slowly reached out a hand, pushing it against her forehead. “You don’t look so good. Are you feeling tired?”

“A little,” Joan said, before shaking her head. “I think that’s enough for today, anyway. Just keep practicing those skills I showed you. I’m going to go get some sleep.” Before she could stand, though, Searle was in front of her and offering his hand. She pointedly ignored it, pushing off the seat with her hands. “I’m fine. I’m just a little tired. Just go and practice,” she said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

The chosen took a step back, quickly nodding. “Right. Sorry. I’ll work on it, sorry.”

Joan turned back towards the building and started walking, her hands tightening into fists at her side. She had just pulled open the door when she heard Bauteut’s voice behind her. “That was incredibly rude.”

“What?” Joan asked, glancing back to the girl.

“How you treated him. You didn’t expect him to succeed there, did you?” Bauteut asked.

“Of course I did. Why would I want him to fail?” Joan asked, hoping she sounded a little convincing.

“Because you’re a child. Also, you’re arrogant, prideful and upset that he’s stronger than you.”

“HE IS NOT STRO--” Joan practically screamed, though the words died when she saw the knowing smirk on the other girl’s face. Slowly she looked away. “He’s not much stronger than me. He’s not much older than me, either.”

“He’s one of the chosen. You should know that keeping up with one of them is all but an impossibility,” Bauteut said.

“It shouldn’t be for me. Not with him,” she said, digging her fingers into her palms as hard as she could.

“Why him? Or just anyone who isn’t Lord Hardwin?” Bauteut asked.

“No, it’s not that. The others are fine. But he’s the shield. He’s the weakest,” Try as she might, she couldn’t come up with any way to put it into words that didn’t sound petty and childish. “He just is.”

“What does him being the shield have to do with anything?” Bauteut asked. “He’s still one of the divine chosen.”

Joan gave a soft sigh of exasperation. She scrambled through her thoughts, trying to find the best way to explain it. He had killed her so many times, always been the one who fell under the demon lord’s sway. He had to be the weakest. So why did she have to be weaker than him? “You’ve seen him. He’s been at this academy for years, he’s always been so hopeless.”

“So he’s not good with a sword, so what?” Bauteut asked. “He was planning to become a scribe. His light magic has always been incredibly strong. Even if he is a bit clumsy still, that doesn’t mean anything.”

“But he just isn’t,” Joan said softly, unable to come up with any proper rebuttal. She didn’t know what annoyed her more. The fact that he was passing her up so quickly and easily. Or the fact that she didn’t have a reason for it to upset her so much. She wanted to punch the wall until her fist broke, to bang her head on it until she lost consciousness. To go up to the roof of the building and scream and cry until her lungs hurt. “It’s not fair,” she finally said.

“You know, he admires you,” Bauteut said, walking a little faster to walk besides her.

“No he doesn’t,” Joan said with a shake of her head.

“He really does, for reasons I’m struggling to understand myself.”

Joan’s cheeks turned a little redder. “Why? He’s stronger than I am now. He’ll be faster soon. Probably more agile. Tougher. Better.”

Bauteut sighed and shook her head. “You know, for a seer, you’re somewhat blind. If you only see the future of the chosen what do you see in his?”

“The future I see I’m trying desperately to avoid,” Joan said softly.

“What future do you see for him?” Bauteut asked again, firmer this time.

Joan struggled to find the right words for her thoughts. If he was weak, if he fell once more, she saw only pain, suffering and torment. He was stronger now, he could fight more. So why wasn’t she happy? Why did it upset her so much? She’d given up her strength, this had been the decision she made. The sacrifice she had been willing to make. Why did it upset her in such a terrible way? Why did she hate him so much for it? “I don’t know anymore,” she said. “I just don’t know.”

“He does admire you, even if you’re weaker than him,” Bauteut said, an arm reaching up to lay on her shoulder. “You are the one who realized who he was after all. You nearly killed yourself trying to find him. Now you’ve helped him harness his power. He believes you believe in him. So maybe you should try that.”

“What?”

“Believing in him. Just a little bit. What could it hurt?”

Joan gave another soft, exasperated sigh. Believing in him. How could she ever believe in him? She had a thousand life times to show why she couldn’t believe in him. She couldn’t ever bel--

She stopped in mid step.

If she had always failed, if this was her dozenth or so attempt to set things right as Joan, then had she just never believed in him? She’d certainly never believed in him as the hero. If everything she had done wrong up to this point had been wrong, if all of her lives had been wrong, what was the one thing she had never, even once, done? A hand moved up to her chest and she felt her pounding heart.

What if all along that had been what she’d done wrong? What if she truly was that big a fool? Bauteut was right. She had to, just this once, believe in him. What could it hurt?