Just a Bystander

There are times when I absolutely have to be alone.

It's something my family is intimately familiar with. I can be generally sociable most of the time, but when there's something that bothers me and I need to work through it, I must have the mental space to do it. And conversations with anyone generally are not helpful. I become irritable and withdrawn until I've worked things out satisfactorily in my head.

Of course, my dorm mates have never seen this side of me before, this being only our second day together. I was actually hoping that they wouldn't ever have to see it and that maybe being with more people my age would help me function a little differently. At the very least, I had hoped not to fall into one of these moods until we were all sufficiently familiar with each other, so that they wouldn't shy away from me.

But that just goes to show that you shouldn't put too much stock in hope.

I thought I had managed it well enough with Reeves' memory weaving, which was still really bugging me, but then Ambrose's behaviour brought in a far bigger mystery to untangle.

My recollection of that lunch is rather hazy. I don't think I even bothered to make any excuses. I think I simply got up and left, leaving a confused silence in my wake, and went straight back to the dorm where I locked myself in the room.

I slumped into the chair in front of the small study table that belonged to me and started mapping out all the impressions and thoughts in my head, trying to string them into something cohesive.

First, was Ambrose really the Chosen One, or was I jumping to conclusions?

His level of arcanic control is far beyond a fresh arcanist. This could be raw talent, substantial training, or a combination of both. Major Prophecies deal with exceptional cases, which means the presence of any one of these factors raises the probability that he really is the subject of a Prophecy. If multiple factors converge, that is an even stronger sign that he is the Chosen One, because Prophecies skew probabilities and make such favourable convergences more likely.

There was a growing pit of unease in my stomach. I tried to find ways to disprove that hypothesis.

Maybe he's from a really wealthy family who has arranged tutors for him well before his arrival in the Academy. If the gap between him and the rest of us can be explained by sheer practice, then this makes it unlikely that he's the Chosen One. It's just down to the good, old-fashioned benefits of being well-heeled.

My eyes landed on Ambrose's rucksack. The fleeting impression I had when I first saw him walking into the dorm with it wasn't one of great wealth. Now that I was actually looking more closely at it, I realised it was really quite well-used, to put it politely. I doubted that a family that could afford tutors to raise someone to Ambrose's level would then go on to skimp on school essentials. And now that I thought about it, his clothes were a touch on the shabby side. Definitely nowhere close to the quality of Devon's, who was probably from the wealthiest family out of all of us. And even he didn't have tutors.

So... not wealthy. Sheer talent, then.

But that definitely wasn't true either. He had just admitted over lunch to having had combat-worthy training for over a month. That was well before we had even started at the Academy. On top of that, he was familiar with the duelling chambers, which the first-years still hadn't been introduced to, even in our Thaumaturgy classes. Unbidden, the picture of the duelling chamber logbook flashed across my mind - Ambrose had entries there dating back at least a week, and that was just on the page I had seen.

Ok, shit. So he definitely has talent, because he hasn't been trained for years. But he's also got training. And when he gets training, he receives it from... someone in the Academy, judging by his familiarity with the duelling chambers. He gets special access to facilities that others do not know about. And he can't seem to afford that training, so it's given free, or at least the financial barrier of entry is removed somehow, maybe by an exchange of services, or something else. What's important is that he has access. That means the Academy is actively investing more resources in him. Which is very unlikely to happen for a normal person. So the odd probability skew here favours the existence of a Prophecy of some kind, again.

As much as I didn't want to admit it, this was beginning to fulfil lots of the signs I had read in books on prophecies. There were too many lucky breaks, too many convergences. The big Prophecies liked to endow their Chosen Ones with many advantages.

My breathing quickened as I realised the implications. If he was the Chosen One, the probability skew wouldn't just affect him alone. It would drag others into it. Like how the Academy was providing him free advanced training. So that meant just by being in his life, we were somehow influenced.

I actually stopped breathing for a moment when that thought reached its next conclusion. I was already caught in it. There was his meeting with me, right after I had revealed that I didn't believe in Fateweavers. I had told him about my sister, told him I wanted to challenge fate. It wasn't something I had discussed with anyone, ever, not even my mother. Why had I blurted it out to him? And why did he pledge to help me? That kind of behaviour wasn't normal, was it?

Shit, shit, SHIT, is that how this works? You get pulled into the skew against your own inclinations and normal behaviour?

More moments were jumping from my memory. The look of regret he had given me over lunch. What was with that?

The first time we met in Nivordin Lecture Hall when I thought he was just acting awkwardly because of my own social gaffe. "We should study together sometime, maybe swap notes." Was that really the kind of thing you said to someone who was acting weirdly around you? Wouldn't you want to just cut and run?

Did he already know I would somehow be involved in his life?

And that look he had given me when he had first opened the door and saw that I was his roommate - that wasn't just some awkward pause, was it? Did I miss something there? Did he maybe hesitate because he was seeing Fate itself playing out in his life?

"I promise I'll tell you guys more when I can." That made it sound like he really knew things. And he would, wouldn't he, if he was the Chosen One of a Prophecy?

My chest was tightening. This couldn't be happening. I was here to break the so-called chains of fate around my sister, and now I was caught up in them myself? And not even in anything to do with my own sister — I was being unwillingly dragged along in someone else's life, in some big Prophecy with a Chosen One with things I never wanted to be a part of?

Could I get ahead of it somehow, and unbind myself? Maybe if I worked backwards from the Prophecy, I could just stay far away from anything it mentioned. I vaguely remembered reading a historical example when a Prophecy had actually been averted, though it took a kingdom's combined resources. I didn't want to avert it, I just wanted out. That might make it easier, might make it possible for one person to accomplish. I'd have to study the Prophecy carefully.

I froze. I couldn't remember the Prophecy. And it felt exactly like how I wasn't able to recall having met the Chosen One after Reeves' memory weaving.

Sonofabitch! WHY WOULD HE DO THIS?

My hands were gripping my hair and I was hyperventilating.

Breathe. Breathe. I have to breathe.

"Caden?"

It was Ambrose. He gently knocked on the door again when I didn't respond.

"Caden, we need to talk."

No, no. Not ready. Thinking.

If anything, Ambrose's presence now confirmed it in my mind. He knew that I knew something was up. I felt the realisation click into place in my head, almost like a tangible thing. He is the Chosen One, and there is a real Prophecy, and I am a part of it.

It felt strangely right, all of a sudden. And in that moment I understood what people meant when they said they were split in two. My very presence here in the Academy was aimed at disproving all prophecies, or learning how to unravel them if they turned out to be true, because I hated the idea of not having self-determination, of being doomed to some fate because some Fateweaver somewhere just decided it should be so. And yet here I was, with a part of me somehow feeling at peace with the situation, maybe even happy, that I was a part of something bigger.

There were no words. I opened my mouth and let out some kind of strangled gasp.

"Caden, please," Ambrose sounded more insistent, but I was in no shape to communicate anything.

There is a Prophecy, there is a Chosen One. Let's take it from there, some still-functioning corner of my mind said. Play it out. What pieces are in play? What's the state of the board now?

The Prophecy was made public two months ago. The whole world learned of its exact contents.

The Chosen One's identity was made public one week ago. The whole world learned who it was.

Two days ago, the Chosen One's identity was wiped from everyone's minds. And at some unknown point, so was all knowledge of the Prophecy's contents.

Why? The questioning part of my mind took on Jerric's voice. It was measured, calm, methodical. The questions were probing, not hysterical. It helped me get a handle on things. How does this work out in favour of the Prophecy itself?

The Prophecy... seems to require some sort of acknowledgement. If secrecy was important, the probabilities would have skewed to make it all but impossible to discover. But if what has happened is what is supposed to happen, then... it somehow needs to be public knowledge, to a certain extent. But the contents, and the identity, are not all-important. Only their existence needs to be widely known.

Why might this be the case?

Because... I had no idea.

Prophecies involve glyphs. What did we learn about glyphs?

They're... made up. We make up their meaning. The Prophecy draws its power and meaning from... collective consciousness?

Maybe. Next thought - if the Prophecy's contents and the Chosen One's identity can be a secret, then why is Ambrose so bad at keeping that secret? He doesn't even seem like he's trying.

Because he knows the Prophecy, and maybe he knows that it doesn't need to be a secret from everyone.

What does that suggest?

It means it has to involve specific people.

And if he chooses not to keep that secret from certain people, then it follows that...?

... that we're involved in the Prophecy somehow. Our fates are tied with his.

And if he seems to regret your involvement in particular, then...

... then that means that being involved is not going to be good for me.

Silence in my head. The Jerric-voice seemed to have run out of intelligent questions or observations, and while it had led me to interesting points of consideration, I still had nothing concrete to work with. What was I supposed to do now?

My breathing had calmed and my heart was no longer racing. It seemed that my manic episode had passed. I felt hollow, burnt out.

I stumbled towards the door and threw it open. Ambrose was seated at the common table, staring down at his clasped hands on the table. From the silence in the air it seemed that the rest weren't back yet. He looked up at me as I sank into the chair opposite him.

"Caden, I—"

"First of all, if you're the Chosen One, then f*** you."

That felt good to say. I normally never swore. I wondered if the Prophecy itself was somehow messing with my own normal behaviour, or if I was now using it as an excuse for myself. It was a pretty convenient scapegoat since I had no idea what the Prophecy actually said.

His expression didn't waver. He looked at me somberly. But his silence was all the confirmation I needed.

"Shit," I breathed out. "It's going to be bad for me, isn't it? I figured out that much, from the way you're behaving. And that's why you're not angry with me for cussing you out. Because you know it's true."

"I see why you're the Top Scorer," he said with a half-smile.

"Don't. Not that. Not now."

"Sorry." His face fell. He took a breath, then forged ahead. "You... don't want to believe in Fate. Because of your sister. I... don't want to believe in it either. So maybe together, we can do something about it, change it. Because if you can change it for yourself, you can definitely change it for her."

A long silence fell over both of us. In my mind, I was mapping out all the angles of attack that I could think of, and flagging specific avenues that I had to study up on to see if they were feasible or not. It was such a huge task... but for the first time in my life, even after only two days in the Academy, when I had already had my eyes opened to the depths of arcanophany, it seemed possible.

Wordlessly, I held out a hand. Ambrose grinned and shook it.

"You're going to tell me everything," I said, my hand like a vice around his.