The tenth Chosen One doesn't talk much. He is a shape similar to an elf, but without pointed ears. He's muscular and handsome, with short, light-brown, curly hair. Protruding from his back—even if he wears armor—are two wings black as night. He uses them to fly effortlessly and as fast as a lightfeather.
The man claims to be from a plane of carnal pleasure and no worries. He resents us for taking him from his paradise. He sports a sword made of fire. He cannot cast magic, but he is capable of slaying even our greatest warriors with little effort.
His allegiance lies with no house.
For some reason, he does not betray the elven race. We know very little of his origins or his motives. He doesn't seem to require food or water. He has no interest in our history or our kingdoms. The fear of retaliation is higher than average. We dare not betray him; an unspoken agreement of neutrality binds us. Although he never speaks with us, he attends every Meeting of the Chosen, the only time we get a glimpse of him.
One piece of information he has shared with us is that his name is Michael.
From the official records and expectations of the Chosen Ones.
Michael (no last name)
Expectation Rating: Complicated.
-----------------------------------
"Glizzies! Get ya glizzies here! Glizzies! Long dogs! Glizz—"
A silence fell among the muttering crowds. A nearby seller grabbed the glizzy peddler's shoulder.
"Can I sidebar with you, Joseph? As a fellow concession seller and friend."
"Yeah, of course. What's up, Frank?"
Joseph, the glizzy seller, asked innocently.
"Why do you call them that?"
"Call them what?"
"That word." Frank gave him a furtive glance. "We have a reputation to uphold. You cannot call them that."
Joseph's jaw was tight.
"Sometimes you have to abandon tradition. It's a better word; it must be embraced, should our people be destroyed."
Frank was appalled.
"Not when it comes to hot dogs, you don't. You don't call them that awful, disgusting word. It is forbidden. It is the very antithesis of elven existence."
"Then toss me to the Red Death, Frank. I'd rather die than call glizzies, 'hot dog'."
Frank stepped away from Joseph, tears in his eyes.
"It's like I don't know you anymore."
"This is who I've always been, Frank. Glizzies are my life."
Dolan lowered his hearing sensitivity and chuckled to himself.
"Do you hear them?"
"Hear what?"
Dementra asked.
"Those sellers arguing about what to call a hot dog." He looked towards Elise. "I know you didn't hear them, E-loser. If you did, you'd probably start bleeding everywhere."
Alright, starting with the nicknames, I see. Elise thought. I wish it were something cleverer than "E-loser" at least. It doesn't even sound like my name.
Dementra chuckled.
"Be nice to our little sister." She spoke in a manner that implied she had no intention of doing so. "Are you a Dyad yet? How long has it been?"
"Yeah, how long has it been?" Dolan looked pensive. "I mean, you are a talentless freak, but it doesn't mean you can't accomplish something." Dolan then stood and waved his hand. "Two glizzies, please!"
The glizzy peddler's face lit up. He hurriedly ran over to Dolan.
"Yeah, E-loser? Hasn't it been a few hundred years?"
Not even close. Elise thought.
When Elise didn't respond or even acknowledge her, Dementra said. "Shame that Liza isn't here, she's probably working on her training, unlike you."
Please, Gods, just kill me now.
Elise looked down from the stadium seating to where the Chosen Ones were, specifically Gwyn. Elise wanted to wave to the Chosen One, but her siblings sat right beside her. It was bad enough that her father, the King, knew she cared for the new Chosen One. But if her siblings knew? Elise would never hear the end of it.
"Thanks." Dolan bought two hot dogs for himself. "When is this shit show going to start?"
"Any moment now, the Queen of the Moon just arrived." Dementra pointed out the woman in her scandalous white dress with a hint of envy. "Gods, what I would do to look like her."
"Yeah, I wouldn't mind getting a piece of—"
"Hey!" Dementra slapped Dolan's chest. "I just said I wanted to look like her."
"What? I wouldn't mind a little…" He looked Dementra up and down. "…family bonding if you looked anything like that."
Dementra turned her head.
"You're fucking disgusting, Dolan."
"Whaaaaat?" He said defensively as he nearly choked on his glizzy. "Is za jooooke!" He swallowed. "Anyway, Dema. A little incest never killed anybody."
This time, Dementra punched him in the face. This caused him to drop the remainder of his hot dog.
"Hey! That really hurt!" He held his bleeding nose. "Hey, hey. Wait. Dema." He held up his nose as the blood leaked out of it. "Who am I?"
Dementra looked towards Elise.
"A certain Bloody Princess that we know and love! A spitting image, in fact."
Hilarious. Elise thought.
"Want me to punch you now? So that this joke can come full circle?"
Dementra held up her hand.
"Touch me and I'll kill you."
"Aww, fine." He effortlessly healed his wound and sighed. "Bet you wish you could do that, E-loser."
Elise had grown accustomed to the onslaught of insults long ago. She had a feeling that this event would be more painful for Gwyn than anything her siblings had to say.
~
The sound of musical instruments deafened the chatter for good. The Meeting of the Chosen is a highly sought-after event. All the major families of Keceo were present, including their constituents, as did the Great Eight.
The Great Eight are regarded as the most powerful beings in all of Keceo, but that is often exaggerated. Their power is often interpreted as influence rather than personal ability. However, this isn't true for all the members. Seeing the Great Eight in the flesh was certainly like meeting your favorite celebrity back on Earth.
The dim lights around the arena soon came alive, bursting into a radiant explosion of light. Attendees cheered in the stands, including Elise's siblings. Elise only watched with anticipation.
Elder Archimedes and six others appeared in a puff of magic, one of them being the Queen of the Moon, who was just in the arena below. They all sported different clothing, depending on their current alignments within the realm.
"Welcome to the twenty-third meeting of the chosen! Now that everyone of note has arrived, we can begin."
Archimedes spoke in a performative voice, uncharacteristic for him and his age.
An elven man in glasses was the next to speak.
"To begin our courtly affair, I, Lazlo Waterborne, would like to address the shrinkage of the Wall. Over the—"
"It's getting smaller. It gets smaller every year. Do you have any relevant information, or are you here to tell us what we already know?"
A woman with long, red, wavy hair interrupted Lazlo.
Lazlo looked to the King, who nodded.
"Well… as I was saying… the space in which the Wall has deteriorated is about fifty meters. That is nearly double the shrinkage in the last hundred years." He read from a scroll that lengthened into the arena. "Why this is interesting, General Strangulation, is because this tells us the Wall is shrinking faster than before; we still have time, but—"
"Speak for yourself, Capital dweller." General Strangulation snapped. She wore a white fur mantle, a long black cloak, and bulky red-and-white armor. "The Capital may have time, but the Kosmairian territory will be consumed by the Red Death first. Our people fight on the front lines against the King of Terror and for what?"
"General Strangulation." The King sounded as though this wasn't the first time this matter had been discussed. "I know your people have the least land, but land is not the issue. The Red Death is the issue."
Clack. Step. Clack. Step.
The Head Whisperer strode in; everyone turned their heads at his interruption.
"Sorry, folks, I didn't mean to be late; you know how I can't teleport anymore on account of that incident." The Head Whisperer appeared from behind the thrones. "Also, Snibbles wasn't eating his mid-day snack, and he was very cranky when—"
"Thank you, Head Whisperer," The King said dismissively.
The Head Whisperer took his seat, scratched his chin, and waved at Gwyn.
"As we were saying," the King said with a sigh. "The wall is shrinking faster than before, which means in the next hundred years, the Wall could shrink at an increased rate."
Lazlo interjected.
"Estimates indicate that it could shrink by over a hundred meters in the next century, leaving all of our people with less land, food, and water. We plan to strengthen the barrier by uncovering more information on defensive magic." He adjusted his glasses. "My team has made a few discoveries when it comes to strengthening the Wall. Yet, we have predicted information lies beyond our safety here."
"Which means search parties into the Red Death." Elder Archimedes looked directly at the Chosen Ones below.
Some of the Chosen Ones rolled their eyes in response.
Di 'Vinci's hand was on the hilt of his sword.
"If you want us to die, just do it now and save us the effort of searching that cursed wasteland."
"Yes, I agree with the cat. Those who go into the Red Death often don't return." Einstein, the octopus man, stated. "Have we discovered any additional means of traversal through the Red Death in the past century that can guarantee our safety?"
"Nothing in which we haven't already shared. You are more than welcome to search the dungeons of the Gilded Towers through any of the recovered information." Archimedes pointed a finger at Mr. Keeper. "Have you finished organizing the information since the last meeting?"
"What do ye think? There are thousands of documents in the basement. It's too much for me, but ye won't send me fuck all for help, so how could I get through all that shiet ye shovel into it?"
Archimedes addressed him plainly.
"If you were capable of anything other than reading parchment, then your position would reflect that."
Mr. Keeper grumbled. No one wanted to enter the dungeon of the Gilded Towers; hundreds of years of disorganization have made it a nightmare to traverse, let alone organize the information.
"Enough of the petty arguments. Where have our manners gone?" Asked a woman in luxurious purple and black attire. She wore a crown that looked to be on fire. "We must introduce our new Chosen One. Gwynevere Grim. A Human from a planet named Earth."
All eyes were suddenly on Gwyn. She flipped her hood over her head, but Di 'Vinci flipped it back down and pushed her forward in front of everyone.
All eyes were on the twenty-fifth Chosen One.