Mihel turned around. His breathing heavy.
The sun was lazy in its ascent, still half-asleep beyond the rooftops, with its light peeking through the clouds. But the cold had no such hesitation.
It clung to his skin, making him feel uncomfortable. The hair on his arms stood up.
'Something is here….I can feel its Destiny.'
He narrowed his eyes, scanning his surroundings. Nothing was in sight.
But he was sure he had felt it ever since he left his Skola.
A presence.
A breeze slipped past him, threading through the path, with an unnatural force, and tossed his jet-black hair into his eyes.
And then, as if it had slid directly into his mind, a voice appeared. Loud and commanding in his mind.
"Eyes forward. Move."
The pressure was immense. It pressed down on his chest, his spine, his thoughts. His eyes bulged, veins popped out trying to resist it. His heart started beating faster and louder. He couldn't question it.
His body obeyed before his mind could catch up. He turned and walked towards home, with every step heavier than the last.
'What was that voice…my head's hurting…who…' Mihel thought, eyes still bulging, mind torn.
By the time he reached the front gate, sweat soaked his clothes despite the cold.
His heartbeat only slowed as he sat in front of his home's door.
His breath came short and uneven. There was no doubt in his mind.
He had encountered something on a different scale.
'But why would someone like that be interested in me?'
Mihel got up slowly, and as he stepped inside, another thought struck him, colder than the morning air.
'Do they already know about my Destiny's situation?'
That fear lingered, gnawing at him as he moved deeper into the house. Yet another worry rose to meet it.
'Oh damn it….How can I explain my Destiny to my parents?…'
They were eager. Expectant, that their son would also follow the same path they took.
'And now look at me…I didn't receive any Destiny…' he flinched as he heard his mother call.
"Come, Mimi," his mother Meria called cheerfully. "Eat this cubed cheese meat I prepared. Come, come, sit down and tell us. Did you receive a Healer Destiny? Come on, tell us."
She was practically glowing with excitement. His father also entered the hall soon after Mihel sat down with his mother. He sat opposite Mihel, calm and attentive.
The red chimes near the window twinkled softly as morning light finally spilled into the room. The warmth gave little courage to Mihel who was still trembling slightly.
Mihel's throat tightened. "I… I don't want to keep this from you," he said, hands trembling. "I'm being completely honest. Please believe me…."
His parents exchanged a glance. His father spoke gently, concern edging his voice. "Did you not get a Healer Destiny? It's fine, son. We would have preferred it, yes, but Fate does not rest with us common people."
Mihel bit his tongue. He swallowed before replying, "It's not that… Father," he said.
"The truth is… I didn't get any Destiny." He told them everything. The revelation. The Slate. The writing on it.
The silence where his Fate should have been.
As the story unfolded, his parents' eyes widened, disbelief slowly replacing excitement.
"So you're saying…" Meria whispered, "your Slate says Destiny Not Found?"
Mihel nodded. Eyes not meeting his mother's.
Nathene, his father, lowered his head into his hands, fingers pressing against his temples. He looked utterly lost, as if the world had shifted beneath him and left no footing behind.
***
That day passed in near silence.
Mihel shut himself in his room, pulling book after book from the shelves.
'I have to find something…this can't be the first time it has happened….'
History. Theology. Records of Fate.
Anything that might mention someone like him.
Nothing did.
After losing all hope, he took out a random book among the pile and skimmed through the pages. Trying to distract himself.
Some lines caught his interest.
'The Last King was said to have known a great secret about the world and the origins of Fate.'
'Some historians believe he was silenced for this very reason.'
'Most dismissed it as controversy. Popular nonsense written to attract readers.'
He kept reading. But nothing of interest was there further.
'The Last King…'
History in Gorgoda was intentionally muddled.
There was almost nothing recorded before the Fourth Period. Maybe it had existed and was erased.
Mihel shut the book. He went downstairs, where the smell of cooking filled the air.
"Mihel," his mother called, "a letter came from Cilluh Mentor. Go speak with your father."
In the hall, Nathene sat reading the letter, sipping Tallow which was a thick, oily drink popular throughout Avra, made from the fat of animals.
He looked up and smiled faintly. "Son, me proud of you," he said. "See this letter? It says since you been a top student, the mentors could directly assign you to a military position in the Exousia. That's if you don't want to follow a specific church."
'That is a good choice. I won't have to write the Exousia entrance exam…' Mihel considered.
Nathene paused, studying Mihel's face.
"What you thinking, son? Never mind our reaction before. We were just shocked. Remember that we will always support you."
Mihel hesitated.
Without a Destiny, there was nothing to guide his choice.
"I… I need time," he said finally.
Nathene nodded. He understood how Mihel felt.
That night, Mihel decided he would speak with Riche. If anyone might understand, it was him.
He'd get the chance tomorrow, at 5:30 eos, when they usually sparred for practice.
***
Mihel woke early and watched the orange glow of the sun spill across the sky.
Every Zoiday, without fail, they fought at 5:30 eos.
It was tradition.
He was already firm in his decision. Whatever Riche chose, he would follow.
They had never said it aloud, but everyone knew. They were inseparable. Where one lacked, the other compensated. That was the core of their bond.
Together, they were far stronger than either alone.
Mihel pulled on his fur cloak and stepped outside.
His parents were already gone. As Healers of the Church, they left at 4 eos and returned by 1 astra, though recently they'd been returning far later than usual.
When asked about it, they claimed to be working on a special cure. Mihel hadn't pressed further.
The dense forest between the city, Skaria and their very own Wahum served as their training ground.
Thick trunks and tangled roots made it perfect for traps, ambushes, and honing movement.
Riche was already waiting. Wearing a dark fur coat that contrasted with his blonde hair.
Mihel raised his open palm. Riche knocked on it firmly.
"Morning, Riche. I need to talk to you about something," Mihel said. "So after the fight, stay a bit longer, alright?"
Riche grinned. "No way. You backing out already with the 'important talk' excuse?"
Mihel sighed. "I clearly said after."
Riche let out a laugh, tossing his head back. "Alright then. Three… two…"
"One."
They sprinted in opposite directions, vanishing into the forest.
As Mihel ran, he pulled strings and ropes from beneath his cloak. Materials he needed for a new plan he was going to try.
He glanced at his wrist dial. 5:40 eos. The device was made to catch sunlight and cast a precise shadow along its outer ring. It was how time was read in Gorgoda
The real fight began at 5:45 eos. He had exactly five minutes.
Mihel worked fast, creating a square zone layered with traps. Strings tied to branches. Ropes looped around weighted logs.
If he could lure Riche into this area, the match was his.
After he was done, he unsheathed his sword.
Chamynos Fios.
A gift from his grandfather, a Destined Bladesmith of Fotia.
Mihel had added the 'Fios' himself, binding the blade to his grandfather's name.
The hilt was bronze, set with three rubies. The blade itself was black, forged from cooled magma.
He swung it once, the weight familiar, grounding.
The sword was meant to resonate with one's Destiny, amplifying it's power.
'That turned out really helpful for me,' he thought.
A howl split the forest.
Riche.
'There's the wild call…he's going to start charging…'
He always did that, claimed it helped him locate Mihel. The nearby villages probably thought a beast roamed the woods.
Mihel dropped a matchstick at his feet as taking it out of his pocket during movement would be difficult.
He then ran towards the sound of his friend.
Moments later, he spotted Riche, twin cleavers Mundo and Mitad gleaming in his hands. The blades curved outward, made of a shiny silver metal. The hilt was wrapped with brown fur and fixed at the end of the hilt was a pointed golden stud.
Riche turned, grinned, and charged, with no hesitation.
The blade came down. Mihel sidestepped, slashing toward Riche's side.
The strike was blocked instantly.
Riche used the momentum to riposte, forcing Mihel back.
Mihel, considering it the right time, spun and fled deeper into the trees.
Riche hesitated only a heartbeat before giving chase.
'Perfect.'
Mihel led him straight into the trap zone. All that remained was to ignite the trigger wire.
A flash of silver cut past his face. Slightly grazing his left side.
Pain bloomed along his cheek.
A throwing knife.
Mihel rolled, grabbed the matchstick he had placed before, and struck it against the rough strip bound to his forearm.
A tiny flame leapt alive. He pressed it to the wire, hidden under some leaves.
Behind him, Riche was closing in, unaware.
Riche's voice tore through the forest.
"OOOHHHHHH-"
A feral, laughing howl, loud enough to scare birds from the branches.
"I'M COMING, MI!"
Mihel rose, blade ready.
Riche swung from above.
They clashed, steel ringing through the trees. For three seconds they traded blows. Slash, dodge, stab and so on.
Then Riche feinted a slash to the head before quickly twisting the blade and cut low, slicing Mihel's abdomen before driving a brutal kick into his gut. Mihel crashed into a tree.
'Damn…. Definitely broke something,' he thought. 'But it's too late now.'
Riche approached, still inside the trap zone.
"Ha! That's two victories lead for me now. So what was it you wanted to-"
He stopped.
"…Why are you smiling?"
The net dropped. Riche was instantly tangled, crashing to the ground.
Mihel staggered forward and shoved him back.
"Three… two… one." He counted slowly on his fingers.
A log swung from the side, smashing into Riche.
"That's for the kick," Mihel said. "And we're even on wins."
After a moment, Mihel untangled the ropes. Riche sat in the mud, grinning.
"Mi, that was one of your best traps yet….you made it pretty quickly as well…I got too cocky." He laughed sheepishly.
Riche wiped the dirt from his face and looked up.
"So," he said,
"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"