Chapter 2: Framed

(651 A.C)

 Eko stomped up the spiral staircase to Master Leolin’s study, hoping that the impact of his hard leather soles made as much noise as possible against the worn steps. A simple wooden door awaited him at the top of the stairs, a small sign reading, Do not disturb, politely hanging from the upper half from an old nail and slightly frayed rope. Eko forced his hands, which had been clenched into fists, to pry apart just enough to turn the knob and fling the door open.

The room was the same as Eko had always seen it, which only made the burning rage in his gut roar. There was the potion-making station, with its cauldrons and shelves of ingredients and numerous timers to make sure nothing went awry with the dangerous art. There was the tall, stained glass window along the opposite wall, its colors muted by years of the smoke of incense coating its insides. And there was, of course, the bookshelves that stretched from the ceiling to the floor along every inch of wall that wasn’t used for some other purpose. How many times had Eko read those books, each one hand-selected by his master for the knowledge hidden in their folds of paper and ink?

It was all too mundane, too normal for what Eko had just learned.

Master Leolin, previously hunched over his desk and stroking his great, gray beard in thought, nearly toppled off his stool when the door banged against the stone wall of the study. His mouth opened as if to let out a cry of surprise, though no sound escaped, and he threw up his hands, knocking over the inkwell he’d been using. Ink splattered across the desk in black droplets, sinking into the crevices of the wood in the mimicry of topography.

Master Leolin whipped toward the door in the next instance, one hand reaching for the wand tucked haphazardly into the belt of his robe, but when he saw Eko leaning against the doorframe, he aborted the motion, even if he still frowned. Eko, for his part, couldn’t decide between nonchalance and unbridled, raging fury. He didn’t move from the doorway, shoulder resting against the doorframe, but he tried to pour every ounce of absolute betrayal into his scowl. He’d practiced the expression in the mirror downstairs for a few minutes before marching up here, and he thought it had looked properly intimidating.

Judging by Master Leolin’s reaction–or lack thereof–it didn’t. “Ah, Eko, didn’t you see the sign?” He turned back to his desk, his frown deepening when he took in the mess of ink next to whatever he was working on. But none of the ink spilled on the paper he’d been writing on, much to Eko’s increasing incense. “If you’re here for your lesson, why, I think you need to get your tongue untied, my boy. The spell for checking the time is a very elementary one that I expect you–”

“I’m not here for my lesson,” Eko bit. Usually, he wouldn’t dare to interrupt his master. But it seemed times were changing.

Master Leolin stilled, gazing sidelong at Eko for a moment, brow furrowing, before he stood and bustled around the room, poking around the potion-making station. “Well, then, I must ask you to come back later, my boy. I’m in the middle of writing some very important correspondence. Do you know where we have any rags in here?”

“Oh, really?” Eko sneered. “Okay, so tell me this, Master–what good is the word of a dead man?”

Master Leolin hummed lightly, like the question actually deserved consideration. “I’d say the word of a dead man is all he has left once he is gone from the world. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must find something to clean up this ink. Oh, my boy, could I ask you to fetch something? By the time you get back it would still be a bit early, but we could begin your lesson.”

Eko could feel his scowl tightening with every trivial syllable that leapt from Master Leolin’s mouth. When he finished, Eko slammed a fist against the wood of the doorframe. It smarted something fierce, but he barely even noticed it. “Dammit, Master, would you take this seriously?”

Master Leolin stopped then, his usually amiable gaze turning impossibly sad. “I am taking this seriously, Eko.”

Eko’s lip curled at the sound of his name. Master Leolin never called him by his name except at formal ceremonies and presentations to the king of his apprentice’s skill. But that wouldn’t convince him that Master Leolin was as grave as he sounded.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded.

Master Leolin sighed. His bushy, gray eyebrows drew so tightly together they appeared as one. “You were not supposed to know.”

“Why not?”

 “Because I know you, my dear boy, and I know you would try to do something to prevent it.”

Eko’s hands curled into fists once more, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. “And why shouldn’t I?”

Master Leolin paled slightly. “Eko, this is the king we’re talking about.”

“No,” Eko said, stepping inside and shutting the door with much more care than he wanted to. He wanted to slam it shut just as he’d slammed it open, but even in his anger, he knew he had to be more discrete about this. “We’re talking about you.”

Master Leolin closed his eyes. His lively and amicable air usually made him seem much younger, but now he looked every one of his fifty-nine years. He was supposed to turn sixty in just three weeks. The thought made something behind Eko’s eyes burn, and he squeezed them shut until it went away.

Master Leolin resumed talking while Eko’s eyes were still closed, his voice slowly getting closer. “I know this is difficult, my boy. But there is something that you must understand.”

He was going to tell Eko that the king was more important or that his mind was made up or that it would be an honor to serve his country in this way. Well, Eko had a rebuttal for all those points. He’d been turning them over in his head ever since he read the king’s future and saw Master Leolin’s death smeared into the echoes of time.

The king wasn’t more important. Not to Eko, at least. He didn’t care that the king was the one that allowed him three meals from the kitchen a day or granted him a small room in the servants quarters. Every year–or more often, if the king was feeling particularly unimpressed–Eko had to present his abilities as both a seer and a normal mage to His Majesty, and if at any point he decided Eko wasn’t worth the resources he was using on him, he would be kicked out. It was unlikely, considering Eko was currently the only other known seer in this half of the world, but it was still a possibility.

Eko didn’t have to prove anything to Master Leolin. Sure, Leolin wanted Eko to excel in his studies and master his craft, but he never threatened Eko or made him feel less than when he didn’t succeed on the first try or took breaks. Sometimes, he even sneaked Eko extra sweets from the kitchen or let him play with the slimes before they were turned into potions or gathered the kitchen scraps so they could feed the Vert fish together under the cover of darkness while Master Leolin regaled him with stories of his youth or his knowledge of the world.

And Eko could convince Master Leolin to reconsider his stance. Eko was nothing if not persistent. He could wear down his master. He could make him see that it was pointless to die an honorable death or whatever other hydra shit he was trying to sell Eko.

“You see,” Master Leolin said, clasping a heavy hand on Eko’s thin shoulder. He gazed down at him, blue eyes glittering intensely, like bits of sapphire, and Eko couldn’t have looked away if he tried. “This decision is one I make. Not one that is dictated to me by the whims of Moss or Tressia. Do you understand? As seers, we may rule time, but time rules us as well. And now, I am not raging against the current, but following the flow.”

“But why?” Eko implored. He didn’t understand. Who would want to just–to just throw their life away? If he had seen his death, why wouldn’t he do something to stop it? It was their singular privilege from their powers as seers!

Master Leolin patted him on the shoulder, smiling slightly. “You will understand one day, Eko,” he said, like a promise. “Now, please, will you leave me to get my affairs in order?”

Eko roughly brushed off Master Leolin’s hand and moved to march from the room. The old man could be stubborn and cryptic–Eko didn’t care. He would do whatever he could to save him.

Eko stopped in the doorway, however, glancing back at Master Leolin. The old man had shuffled back to his desk, but he hadn’t yet reclaimed his seat on the stool. Instead, he stood, hands braced on the wood, the edge of his sleeve brushing the puddle of ink and his head bowed between his hunched shoulders as if it was weighted down.

Eko wouldn’t get another chance. He didn’t care if it was an egregious invasion of privacy or horribly rude. He peered into Leolin’s future.

Usually, reading futures was fairly straightforward. At least, with someone Leolin’s age, whose path had more or less been formed by both circumstance and the myriad of decisions they had made through their years, the sound of their future was easy to listen to. A simpler melody and more harmonious than, say, a child, whose branching paths of decisions laid at their feet, forming a cacophony of dozens–if not hundreds–of possible futures.

The same was true for seers, at any age. They were privy to the events that had not yet come to pass, and so they were the wayward musicians in this song of time, paths upon paths open to them to choose from, whether they wanted to be a melody or counter-harmony or remain silent altogether.

At least, that’s how it usually was. But when Eko peered into Master Leolin’s future, all he saw was that one, solitary score of fate. The handful of days that separated Leolin from a stormy night and blood dripping from his lips as he died. All of this passed through Eko’s mind in half the time it took to blink.

He shook his head and tried again, hoping there was something he just wasn’t seeing, some hidden string of fate that held something else. Then tried again. And again.

By the fifth time, he had to concede. As it stood, the only path that appeared before Leolin was death.

But it–it didn’t matter. Eko was a seer, too–a wildcard in the symphony of fate. He could save Leolin. He would.

Except, when the night came a few days later, Eko found his door locked from the outside and a barrier cast over the window so that even when he broke it, he could not get past the sill. He sat on the lip of stone, beating his hand against the invisible wall and shouting any obscenity he could think of.

He hadn’t seen this in Leolin’s future when he read it. Which meant Leolin had read his future at some point in the past few days and saw Eko’s plans and adjusted his own accordingly. Wily old man, Eko thought. Usually, he was fond of his master’s ways, but in that moment, he only felt bitter.

Eko didn’t notice it for a while, but when he rushed to the door to try it once more–or at least find a way to bust it open–he noticed something poking out from under the door into the dim room. Stooping down, he pulled at the little corner reaching past the crack beneath the door. He tugged up until the object slid completely out from under the door and came free.

It was an envelope, too thick to be empty. Without tearing his gaze away from it, Eko shuffled to his bed and sat down heavily. With a trembling hand, he thumbed at the wax seal–the seal of the official court seer–until it broke. He pulled out the letter concealed within, carefully unfolding and staring down at it. It was too dark inside the room to read it, and it took Eko several long moments to work up the courage to hold out a hand and cast the cantrip for a small fire in his palm. It provided just enough light to read by.

Eko read the letter, then read it again. He gritted his teeth and read it a third time. It was–It was nothing. Master Leolin praising him for his burgeoning skills and wishing him luck in life. Apologizing for leaving him like this and some vague pointers to follow in his life because of course seers couldn’t leave the future well enough alone. There was at least some comfort in knowing that it would have been hard for his master to learn much of anything since Eko was still too young for a more focused future, compounding with the effect that being a seer had on his fate.

The hints at his future came in a bulleted list, and there were only three of them. Unlike the rest of the letter, Eko read them only once, but they felt seared into his mind no matter how he tried not to think about them.

Listen to the man of promises.

Read the girl’s future.

Learn the cardinal rule of seers.

Just vague enough to hopefully lead Eko down the path to whatever future Leolin wanted for him–without jeopardizing the possibility of that future happening. At first it rankled Eko that the man abandoning him for some guy with a crown had the gall to try to dictate his future, but the more he thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense. Leolin wasn’t the type to try to steer Eko. He wasn’t the type to steer anyone except when it was literally his job. And even with all his skill as a seer, Leolin wouldn’t be able to pinpoint many specifics about the futures of a fellow seer. There were just too many possibilities to properly process them all or even pick out the ones more likely to happen compared to the others.

Well, usually, Eko thought bitterly, recalling the singular future he’d seen for his master just a few days before. And why had that been? Was the will of his master to submit to his death really so powerful that it made it the only path left to him?

Eko peered out the window. It didn’t matter anymore. The early morning daystellation of Hessen was fading from the sky, the arrow steadily growing dimmer while the next daystellation, Midi, faintly shone just north of it in the shape of an oval.

By this point, Leolin was dead. He was dead, and all Eko had managed to do was sit and read the letter filled with the empty words of a man that had decided he wasn’t important enough to live for.

His eyes fell to the last part of the letter. Leolin apologized again, his fancy script curling across the page. He went on to try to defend himself again, citing that this was him accepting his fate instead of trying to escape it, as seers often do. But it was the way that he ended the letter that really stuck with Eko.

Never forget that I am proud of you, my boy. The path behind you has not been an easy one to walk, and neither does the path I hope you will find be easy to trek. But you play a vital role in this world. Please, do not abandon it.

I do not know the worth of the words of a dead man. But I hope my words mean something to you, just as you meant so much to me. I never had the opportunity to have children, my boy, but I had you. I got to watch you grow from a tiny boy to the young man you are today. And in that, how can I face my death with any regret?

Goodbye, my dear boy.

Trindell Leolin

Eko stubbornly bit the inside of his cheek, eyes burning and chest heaving. With a cry, he balled up the paper and threw hard. It barely made a whisper of sound when it hit the opposing wall and bounced to the ground, and that only made Eko jump to his feet and stalk over to where it rested. He brought his foot up to stomp on it, wanting more than anything to break something in that moment. He stood there like that for a moment, one foot posed over the wad of the letter, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He shouted again, landing forward on his foot so that he was able to punch the wall.

He stood there, knuckles resting against the rough stone and head bowed, staring at the crumpled paper below him. His chest heaved and his hand burned in a way that told him he was probably bleeding and despite himself hot tears blurred his vision. With a gasp, he stumbled back, fisting his hands in his hair and collapsing into his bed when his calves hit the frame.

He sat there for several moments, eyes squeezed shut and chest spasming under the force of his sobs. Eventually, though, he scrubbed at his eyes and his snot-ridden upper lip and went back to the window. He reached forward, trying to find the barrier that had been there before, but there was nothing. Eko sniffled and rubbed at his face again as he peered down at the ground some twenty feet below. He should be able to get himself down without breaking something.

Well, he certainly wasn’t staying here. Leolin was a fool to die for this country and its king that had never glanced twice at them, and Eko wasn’t about to be thrust into that position. Maybe it was selfish. He could help a lot of people with his abilities as a seer if he stuck around.

Eko didn’t care. He wasn’t going to face the same fate as his master. He didn’t know what his fate would be, but he was not going to be a slave to his power–his power would serve him.

Eko glanced back at the discarded letter. His heart pounded in his chest. A breeze blew in through the window, catching the paper and making it shudder. After several more moments, he strode back to the letter and picked it up. Then, he held out his other hand, muttered the cantrip for fire, and burned it.

He didn’t need Leolin anymore. It was clear Leolin hadn’t cared how this would affect Eko, so why should Eko care about him at this point? And he didn’t care what future Leolin wanted him to follow. Eko was done being told he had to bow–to others, to the king, to time itself. From now on, he would rule time. Not the other way around.

He left, then–his room, his castle, his whole accursed life that had been built up around him, caging him inside. He would make himself a better one.

–——

(664 A.C.)

"Hey. Hey, Randall," Eko called, voice soft, leaning against the bars of his cell with elbows resting on the cool metal. He snickered as the guard sent him a pointed glare. "Randall," he sang, lacing his fingers together, "Wanna know your fortune?"

The guard in question threw down his hand onto the small, wooden table in front of him, much to his partner's chagrin, and the other two guards laughed as they swept up their winnings. Randall shot to his feet, jabbing a meaty finger in his direction. "If you open your trap one more time, I'm going to–I’m going to–!"

“Having some trouble there, Randall? I know thinking has always been a bit of a sport for you.”

Randall glowered at him, hands flexing.

Eko never did know when to leave well enough alone. "Aw, you're no fun. Where's Craig these days? Now that bloke was a riot. He would turn the strangest shade of purple when he was angry and got this crinkle on his forehead deep as a philosopher's arse crack–yeah, that's just the look!" Randall was already stalking towards him, but it wouldn't be a true insult until Eko delivered the punchline. "It's a wonder your wife is so excited to see you tonight. Or, well, I guess she was." He grinned and darted back right before Randall cracked his baton down where his arms were hanging. He hung to the bars with the tips of his fingers instead, laughing as a vein popped out on Randall’s thick neck.

“You know he’s just looking for a rise,” one of the other guards called. Eko didn’t know his name–he had yet to learn two of the names of this new batch. He knew Randall because he was just funny looking–arms thick as trees but legs like a chicken, fat cheeks and a scraggly beard that just about hid his stringy lips. This other guard was pretty standard, fit and lean and with a neat beard. Newly wed if the shiny ring on his finger was anything to read into and too satisfied in his youth to be bothered by much of anything.

Randall’s other buddy, Yunt, though–the one that had been on his team in whatever weird card game they were playing–he was just Randall’s opposite. Tall as a corn stalk with a long ponytail that really should be getting him locked up in one of these cells. Just looking at it made Eko smirk. No wonder he didn’t see anyone falling heads over heels for him–and that tidbit he was definitely keeping to himself. Not that he couldn’t hint at it.

“Just gag him and be done with it,” Yunt snapped. He collected the cards and shuffled them eagerly, probably hoping to earn his marks back.

Randall grunted, smacking at Eko’s fingers again just for good measure. Luckily, Eko was quick enough to snatch them back before they ended up crushed, the baton just making a harsh clang on the metal. Randall spat at Eko’s bare feet, too, probably just for good measure. Eko danced back farther, but it all ended up on the bars anyways.

“You kidding?” Randall muttered. “Who knows what crazy magic he has up his sleeve.”

Eko sighed, going over and plopping down on his bed of straw. It was really the only thing in his cell, save his bucket. And he didn't savvy spending his free time hanging around it. “You lot really are pretty dense. I keep telling you magic doesn’t work like that.” He displayed his empty palms and wiggled his fingers. “No wand, no big spells. Even if I can speak.”

Yunt sneered, “Oh, so you want us to gag you, then?”

Eko pouted. “But then I wouldn’t be able to ruin all your good luck. Where’s the fun in that?” He winked at one of the new guards. “Saw your future earlier, lad. Have fun with that.”

The man–well, boy, really–glanced at his companions. “What–What does that mean?”

Eko grinned and spoke in a singsong voice. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Means he's seen something bad. Not gonna tell you what though ‘cause that would make it not happen. He’s a right bastard like that,” Randall grunted, shuffling back over to the wooden table and settling into his seat. The chair creaked in distress. Well, what Eko assumed was distress. He sure wouldn't be happy if Randall sat on him. "Should just cut out the peeper's tongue and be done with it. Won't be spoiling anything then."

Yunt grunted in agreement. The other guard still looked nervous, glancing between his newly dealt cards and Eko several times. Eko just smiled and put a finger to his lips. The middle one, of course.

They went back to their game, and Eko let his new friend stew for a bit, easing down to lay in the straw with his arms as pillows. The old straw's damp and musty stench used to make him gag, but now it was just one of the little charms of his prison he'd gotten used to. Like how the light of the torches by the guards didn't quite reach the corners of his cell where the rats hid or how he had a barred window at the top of his cell wall but it was always covered with a heavy plank so he never got any sunlight or fresh air. He used to have nice, golden skin from days spent traveling, but now he was pale as a newborn frost lion. Truly, that was the biggest shame.

Yunt was talking to the married guard–who was apparently named Aaron, not that Eko really cared–when the young one, Meness, finally broke. He twisted to stare at him and blurted out, "What happens to me?"

The others stopped and glared at him, but Eko merely grinned. He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, returning to his spot leaning against the bars. "Tell ya what, lad. You come over here and deal me in to whatever game you're playing, and I’ll tell you your future."

"And that will make sure it doesn't happen?" The boy was practically shaking in his boots.

Eko opened his mouth to reply, but Randall beat him to it. "Don't trust him," he said, shooting a dark look his way. "It might be that you stub a toe or lose a sock. Something bad might not even happen at all, but you’d have no way of knowing it.”

Eko scowled. “Hey now, I’d never lie about a person’s future.” He held up one hand, the other resting on his breast, and smiled. “Seer’s honor.” Meness still looked like the uncertain, frightened child he was at Eko’s words–and okay, now Eko felt a teeny bit bad. Randall opened his mouth to retort, but this time, he was the one cut off.

The door slammed open. All four guards were immediately on their feet, backs straight and arms at their sides. Eko only got a peek of the stairs leading up to the courtyard of the prison and the sunlight shining brightly on the worn stone, but that was all it took for his gut to clench and his grip on the bars to tighten.

He wasn’t the one that should be locked up in here. He hadn’t done anything illegal. Wrong? Sure, but that was another story. He was just the one at the butt of the joke. Because that’s all this was, right? A sick joke that was never going to end.

Eko should have stayed at the castle all those years ago. This was what he got for meeting that bastard and remembering those words from Leolin–listen to the man of promises. He sure had promised a whole lot. It was the fulfilling part, or lack thereof, that had landed Eko where he was now.

The intruder dragged someone in behind him and shut the door just as quickly as he’d opened it. Eko squinted, eyes sluggishly adjusting from the sudden flare of light back to the darkness of the flickering torch.

The man that entered was the warden. No surprise there, really. If there was any other soul unfortunate enough to be left in a specialty cell, the warden was the one to drop them off personally. He pulled on the lead in his hand, forcing the prisoner behind him to stumble forward.

Eko stared in shock before bursting out laughing. “Are you kidding? They’re sending kids to Festra now, are they? With blonde hair no less?” He looked her up and down. Despite her disheveled appearance, she held her head high and scowled at everything around her like it had personally insulted her. And hey, she was in prison now. Maybe it had.

The warden, unflappable as always, didn’t even glance at him. He just led the girl to the next cell over, and when she was locked inside, he motioned her over. She glared at him for a moment before relenting and offering her hands. Eko couldn’t help but give a whistle of empathy at her raw and blistered wrists. The warden reached through the bars and used a knife to make short work of her bindings before nodding to Eko.

“They haven’t gagged you, have they?” he asked, tucking the knife he’d used back into the sheath on his wrist.

In the corner of his eye, Eko saw Yunt gulp. Eko smirked. “Talked about it some,” he reported, dropping into a lax position again. “But no, they didn’t.”

The warden nodded, pale red hair fiery in the torch light. “Good.” He turned to his subordinates. “Gentlemen. You’ve got a new prisoner, a child at that, but that doesn’t change anything. You will treat her as any other prisoner. I trust I needn’t remind you of the dangers of specialty mages?” They shook their heads. Eko thought he saw some sweat gathering on Randall’s forehead and stifled a laugh. “As you should. I expect your reports at the end of the week. Keep up the good work.” With a final nod, he turned sharply on his heel, striding out and up.

“Imagine if that bloke was just a little bit better at magic. Pink hair wouldn’t be nearly as scary.” Eko clicked his tongue. “Would be scary enough though, eh, guys?”

“Shut it,” Randall snapped, collapsing back down onto his chair. Usually, Eko would keep it up just out of spite, but his interest was a bit preoccupied at the moment.

The girl sat in the middle of her cell, arms crossed and nose scrunched. Eko plopped down next to the bars separating them, his back to the others. “You know, the guards will only laugh a little if you start crying. And I promise I won’t laugh.” Eko leaned in and winked. “At least, not when you’re looking.”

The girl set her glare on him. Her golden eyes flicked over his body. Somehow her expression darkened further, but it just kind of made her look like an angry chipmunk and about as intimidating. Which, hurtful. Eko knew that the dirty prison uniform and accompanying stink weren’t helping his image any but still. He had white hair. Well, it probably looked more gray than white at this point with all the dirt and such, but still–white hair! Much better than the girl’s blonde.

“What do you want?”

Eko merely raised an eyebrow at her snapping. It was like watching a pixie mock a dragon. “Well, I was trying to be nice. Kid just got dumped in prison and all that.”

She relaxed a bit. She shifted and rubbed gingerly around her wrists as she spoke. “Why was that guy so nice to you? He threatened to cut out my tongue if I called him any more names.” Her lip jutted out in a pout, “Pretty sure he meant it, too.”

Eko snorted at that one. This kid had to have a death wish if she was antagonizing the warden of all people. “The warden? Oh, we go way back. I looked into his future, told him his son was going to die. So his son didn’t.”

She frowned. “What?”

He rolled his eyes. Did he have to spell it out? “I’m a seer.”

She still stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

Eko frowned. “Seer? No?” He twisted around to look at the guards. “Am I speaking Hydra here?” They largely ignored him, only Meness sparing him a glance. “Alright then,” he muttered, turning back to the girl. She cocked her head at him. “I’m a seer,” he reiterated. “I can see people’s futures. If I tell them or anyone else what their future is, their future changes. I can tell them little bits and pieces though or give up little hints.”

Well, that was the general explanation. There were other details that made the power of seers more complicated. He could tell someone whose fate was already set into one future the fate of another person and it usually wouldn’t do anything, especially if that person was about to die. Or he could tell the future of someone to someone else who would never meet them and as long as that person never breathed a word of it, the other person’s future wouldn’t change. There were a couple other details he was sure he was forgetting, but, well, he was no grand seer anymore so why should he bother to try and remember?

The girl blinked once, twice. Suddenly, she broke into a huge grin. “So you have magic?”

“Well, I don’t see them reading any futures,” he drawled, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the black-haired guards. He frowned again. “You really don’t know about specialty magics? Kid, you’re in a specialty mage cell.”

She furrowed her brow. “I don’t know any magic.”

He shook his head, letting out a frustrated huff. He didn’t know if it was at the kid for being so hopelessly ignorant or the world for throwing a kid so hopelessly ignorant into Festra for a crime she definitely didn’t have the salts to commit. “You don’t need to know magic to be a specialty mage. In fact, from what I know, you’re gifted with some magical talent from the gods or something. It just means you can do something that other people can’t, even mages, and you can pretty much do it from birth.”

Her eyes shone, lips stretching back into a bright smile. “I have magic?” Eko nodded and she squealed. “I have magic! What kind of magic can I do?”

Eko couldn’t help his bemused expression. “I don’t know. You’re not an immortal or sage or something? Those–well, none of us are exactly common but they're more common. An oracle, maybe? Or a seer?”

She seemed to think about it for a moment. “You know, I think they mentioned that they didn’t know what I was. Just that I had a specialty.”

Well, that wasn’t something you heard everyday. Still, not entirely shocking. “Eh, specialties come from the new gods. They’re always experimenting and whatever–not too surprising that there are more of us now.” His foot started to fall asleep so he shifted before continuing. “So kid, what’s your name?”

“Wanily.”

“Wanily, eh? Nice to meet you, kid, name’s Eko. Well, Ekostaphollese is my government name, but that was more of a stage thing anyways.” He stuck his hand through one of the squares. They shook. “So, what’re you in for, Wanily?”

She scowled, throwing up her hands. “Went to this asshole to learn magic, and he framed me!”

“That’s what they all say,” Yunt drawled. Nice to know they were being listened to at every point.

“Hey, one-on-one conversation over here,” Eko threw over his shoulder, only getting snickers in return. He turned back to the girl. “Framed for what?”

She crossed her arms again, sullen. “I think he was trying to steal something? I don’t know what, but it looked kind of like a gold egg. With, like, jewels and stuff all over it.”

Oh, he knew that one. Eko whistled. “Went for an artifact? Yeah, alright, that tends to land you in prison. Why’d they send you here though?” Festra was the mage prison. But then, if they thought a specialty mage was trying to steal an artifact, they might be inclined to toss them somewhere dark and dank and throw away the key. “You know what, don’t answer that.”

She huffed and glanced back over at him. “So what did you do?”

“Here we go again,” Randall groaned.

Wanily scowled. “Excuse you, we’re talking here.” Eko tried–and failed–to choke back a laugh at the girl’s posturing. Her expression eased when she looked back at him. “Were you framed, too?”

Oh boy. This was just his favorite story to tell. Eko shrugged. “Sort of. This guy, Atlas Stellar, recruited me. I tell you, guy could talk a blind man into buying glasses. Eight pairs of ‘em.” Eko shrugged. “Could also talk kings and queens and whatever other fancy government people into getting their fortunes read for insane prices. If it was something good, we simply walked away with the money. If it was something bad, I’d give them hints about it but not exactly what happens. They could pay for more hints to try to change their fortune, but if they didn’t, no skin off our backs. Then, after we took our leave from them, if the reading was good, we’d go to that nation’s enemies and offer to tell them the good future for an even steeper price. Then we’d make off into the night like fairytale bandits.” He scratched at his neck. “I was young and suddenly fabulously wealthy, and–well. I was making some very powerful people very angry, but I didn’t really notice. Probably wouldn’t have cared even if I had. Stuff like that was always more of Stellar’s problem. Until they came demanding our heads, and he managed to talk his way out of it by pinning the blame on me.”

She frowned. “So why didn’t they kill you?”

Eko quirked an eyebrow. “Blunt much?” He smirked and tipped his head against the bars next to him. Why indeed–death would probably be a step up from this desolate hole in the ground. “You don’t just kill a specialty mage. Never know when you might want to make use of their specialties.”

“And what other kinds of specialty mages are there?” she asked.

Eko tapped a finger against his chin. It had been a while since he had to think about anything like that–not that he didn’t get plenty of time alone with his thoughts down here. Still, that was the kind of thing he used to live and breathe. He tried not to think about that part of his life, but it still came back easily enough to make him have to resist the urge to grind his teeth. “There’s five,” he said eventually. “That I know of anyway, maybe things have changed in the time I’ve been in here. Anyway, you got seers and oracles, both of which can see the future, but they’re not quite the same. Seers see the future of specific people–get a very clear picture, too, yeah? Oracles–well, I’m not an oracle and haven’t met none either so I’m not completely sure–but I think they see future events? Not too sure how it works, honestly.”

There had been an oracle in Fris for the whole of about three months before she was assassinated by the empire. This was, of course, before the empire had successfully annexed them. Eko saw her at the ceremony where she was named the official court oracle, but he’d been–what, six at the time? She and Leolin had talked on several occasions, but Eko hadn’t yet been important enough for the same treatment.

And then she was dead and it didn’t matter anymore.

And then Leolin was dead, and Eko wasn’t even in the country after that.

“There are three other specialty mages, but I guess with you it’s four, huh?” He continued resolutely, ignoring more creeping thoughts of the past. He dealt with that enough as it was. “You got immortals and sages and... ” Eko scratched the back of head, frowning. “Mediums!” He snapped his fingers at finally remembering them and let out a small chuckle, not that Wanily seemed very impressed. She gave him a flat look, and he cleared his throat. “Anyway, immortals can’t die. Or, well, they don’t age. Or maybe they do age, it’s just much more slowly?” Eko couldn’t remember. It was simultaneously extremely gratifying and exceptionally terrifying. He continued in a rush, “They can’t die, and–and then you got sages, who can talk to magical creatures.” He bit his lip, thinking. “Or maybe it was any beast? Magical or otherwise..?

The flat look didn’t waver. “You’re not very good at this,” she drawled.

“Hey now,” Eko said, raising a hand to his chest in mock offense. He could feel his heart pounding under his palm. Why was this bothering him so much? He wanted to forget this stuff. It wasn’t like it even did him any good anymore, not that it had back then, either. He swallowed hard and pasted on a crooked smile. “I am a fount of knowledge. Much better than whoever you tried to learn magic from.”

Wanily only hummed in response. Must have still been a sore spot. Eko considered apologizing, but it wasn’t really his style and she didn’t seem too upset.

They fell silent, and the girl took the moment to examine her cell. Eko watched her stalk the boundaries, laughing when a rat scurried past and she shrieked. She stuck her tongue out at him, and he returned the gesture.

After a while, she reclaimed her spot on the floor by him. “So, can you teach me magic?”

That startled another laugh out of him. “What?”

“You got special hair,” she said, like that explained everything.

“Lass, just because I know magic doesn’t mean I can teach it. Or want to.” Who did this kid think she was? Sure, she was spunky and had gotten a couple good laughs from him, but that didn’t mean he’d teach her magic.

She gave him a pretty good set of puppy dog eyes, but he still shook his head. When she realized her charms weren’t working, her expression twisted back into a scowl. “C’mon, it’s not like you’re doing anything.”

Eko huffed. “Just forget it, kid. Magic is bad news. Look where it’s gotten us.”

Wanily puffed out her chest. “Well I don’t know about you, but I’m not staying here. I’m going to find a way out of this prison. I’m going to learn magic, and I’m going to be the Archmage! I’ll help so many people and become the most famous person in the whole world!”

Eko smirked. “Right.”

She glared at him. “It’s true! I’m going to be the most powerful mage this world has ever seen!”

“And how do you plan to do that when you’re in prison, sans teacher, and you just told the men set to watch you that you plan to escape?” They both glanced at the guards that were openly snorting and snickering. Eko splayed his hands. “Face it kid, you’re out of luck.”

She didn’t say anything, just glared at him without blinking for a frankly impressive length of time. Eko returned her contempt with an unamused expression. She broke first, much to Eko’s satisfaction.

Wanily let out an explosive sigh, turning to glare petulantly at some point on the floor. “Whatever,” she declared. “I don’t really want a teacher anymore. I’ll just teach myself magic.”

Eko snorted. Days and nights spent hunched over a book in the castle library flitted across his mind. “Oh, yeah, sure. Just teach yourself magic. No big deal.”

“Well, it isn’t,” Wanily insisted. “Or it won’t be, I guess. It’s just a matter of wanting it badly enough, right? And maybe figuring out some rhymes that make things happen. Easy.”

Eko would have laughed if he wasn’t so completely bewildered. “No, not easy. Kid, do you even know what magic is?”

She thought about it for a moment. “It’s a... thing. That people can do,” Wanily said, far too confidently.

Eko chuckled. “Well, you’re not wrong. It certainly is a thing that people can do.” He shook his head with a wry smile. “Okay, look, this isn’t a magic lesson, alright? This is just common knowledge that everyone knows, and me telling you it isn’t educating you in magic, just things you should know, alright?” Gods knew Eko certainly didn’t want anything to do with magic anymore.

But Wanily’s golden eyes practically sparkled. She nodded emphatically.

Eko mulled it over for a moment. “So, you got magic. But there are different kinds of magic, right? You got old magic and new magic. Very few areas use old magic anymore, that I know of, at least. Usually in whatever countries still worship the old gods, but that’s only a couple of places and–no, you know what? That’s neither here nor there. People don’t really use old magic. That leaves you with new magic. It’s different than old magic–in a way that I don’t fully understand so don’t ask–but it’s what everyone uses. To use new magic you need conduits. Cantrips, wands, certain other objects depending on the spell–the whole cake. Some spells even require more than one person to cast. But anyway, spells that only take words to cast are called cantrips. They tend not to be very strong, so, you land yourself in a prison like this one, they take away your wand and whatever else, and no matter what hair color you’re sporting on your crown, the most you can do is make a little flame or blow a little breeze. Not much of an issue, eh, fellas?”

The guards were back to ignoring them. The best he got was Meness very pointedly shuffling their deck of cards.

Wanily seemed to absorb the information for a moment. “So what’s up with the whole ‘old magic, new magic’ thing? Like, does it have to do with the old and new gods?”

Eko stared at her. “You don’t know about the gods? Just how old are you, kid?”

“Ten, I think. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t remember anything past a few months ago. The first thing I remember is walking through the gates of some city named Tiulipia.”

“Yeah, I don’t know where that is,” Eko said, desperately trying not to show how bothered he was by this information. How did she not–? Just–what? “What about your parents?”

She shrugged. “Dunno.”

At least she didn’t seem very bothered by it. Eko rubbed his forehead. “Well, then. Guess it’s up to me to tell you what’s what.”

This was fine. There was an amnesiac child in the cell next to him that knew nothing about basic things in the world like the gods and magic. She didn’t know where her parents were, and she’d just been sent to Festra to rot in a cell for the rest of her life. Eko guessed she didn’t need to know any of this stuff, then, but it would still be good for her. Who knew? Maybe she really would get out of this place and learn magic. Become the Archmage or whatever. Eko wasn’t holding his breath, though.

“Okay, listen up. There’s the new gods and the old gods. The old gods created the world and everything on it, humans and animals and some magical creatures included. But there was something special about humans, you see, that made it so when we started to value things other than our worship–things like love and joy and whatever else–it gave birth to new gods with dominion over those things. That’s where we get old and new magic from. Old magic came from the old gods, and new magic came about when the new gods were created.

“That’s not all though, so hold onto your bootstraps, kid, cause I’m gonna give you a lightning fast history lesson. See, the old gods really didn’t like that humans created the new gods. Didn’t like the new gods much either. They threatened the position and power of the old gods and all that. So, the gods started fighting.

“But here’s the catch. One of the old gods got the brilliant idea to deal with the problem at the source. And do you know what that source was?”

Wanily looked at him blankly.

Eko let out a huff of laughter. “Humans, kid. I just said it. The god Kakren decided if he wanted to get rid of the new gods, he’d just get rid of all the humans. Well, I guess he was more or less gonna destroy the whole world, actually, just kinda start from scratch, y’know? But, well, the new gods didn’t like that much either. Guess what happened.”

Wanily grinned. “Obviously, this Kakren succeeded and everything got destroyed.” She brought her hands together into fists before fanning them out, making exploding noises.

Eko chuckled. “Right, of course.” He shook his head. “No, Kakren made a physical form on this world, just absolutely massive–the size of some countries from what I’ve heard. But when he did, one of the new gods–the goddess Amera–killed him.”

Wanily frowned. “How do you kill a god?”

Eko shrugged. “Wish I could tell you. The fact of the matter is, Amera fused her being with a human, the only way she could manifest in this plane from what I understand. Then, she killed Kakren, but this was a bit of an issue seeing as Kakren was one of the gods that made the universe function the way it should, you know? So when he died, there was this 'oh shit' moment where everything sort of started to fall apart. Real end of the world style. It’s referred to as the Cataclysm.”

Wanily furrowed her brow. “So... why didn’t everything go–” She mimicked her earlier imitation of an explosion, more reserved this time.

“Well, existence isn’t existence without all of the old gods. So, best as any of us know, Kakren just sort of... appeared again.” Wanily stared at him, but Eko just shrugged. “After that, the old gods just sort of left the picture, and the new gods barely talked to anybody anyway, so.”

“They barely what?”

“Oh, you don’t know? The old gods used to talk to humans. Yeah, real chatterboxes from what I’ve heard, those ones. That’s how we know all this stuff. Well, that and when Amera came to this plane, I guess she had a lot to say.”

Eko didn’t really know the details, but there was that whole big church dedicated to her now, not to mention several smaller churches that served whatever other new gods she told humans about. But Fris had been a nation that worshiped the old gods, and then Eko had left, and while he did travel a lot, he never really gave a rat’s ass about the gods. Not like they had ever done him any good.

“So Amera told us some stuff, and the old gods told us some stuff. And then when Kakren died and came back, the old gods just kinda were like, ‘well, we don’t want anything to do with any of you anymore’, and no one’s heard from them since.”

 Wanily blinked hard. “That’s–wow. When did all this happen?”

Eko pursed his lips and turned back to the guards. “Hey, what year is it?”

Randall and Yunt sent them positively withering glares. It was Aaron that answered, unbothered as usual. “664.”

Eko waved a hand towards them. “There. 664 years ago.”

Wanily gaped. Eko didn’t know what he expected her to say, but what he got wasn’t it. “That’s a lot of Archmages.”

Eko barked with laughter. “Sure is.”

Eko considered this girl for a moment. She seemed like a good kid. Fair, honest intentions, even if she had no way of achieving them. And Eko couldn’t say he wasn’t burning with curiosity.

 He came to a decision. “Want to know your fortune, Wanily?”

She dragged her gaze to meet his. The look she gave him wasn’t haughty or even exasperated. Plain, just like her tone, like it was obvious. “I already know where I’m heading.” She grinned. “I’m going to be the Archmage.”

Three days later, the warden escorted another man in, but this one wasn’t a prisoner. In place of rags and dirt was a sharp suit and a nose turned up at the filth, and instead of anything colorful, his hair was a drab brown. He swept his gaze over the lot of them–the guards at attention then Eko and Wanily. They were in the middle of a halfway made-up clapping game since Eko didn’t remember the actual pattern and Wanily didn’t remember anything past a few months ago.

The man turned to the warden, who was doing his best impression of a scowl. “Yes, I hardly think these are necessary. We’re trying to cut funding to this area, and you lot keep all these superfluous expenses. You’re paying four extra guards for nothing, and these two–” The man waved a hand at them then stopped. “I’m sorry,” he said, giving a short, mirthless chuckle, “Does that prisoner have blonde hair?”

The warden’s brow twitched. “So it would seem.”

The man pinched the bridge of his nose. “And who, pray tell, thought it was a good idea to put a blonde haired child in the most heavily guarded mage prison in the world?”

Dare he think it, Eko was pretty sure the warden was uncomfortable. Like when a child was caught putting salt in the cake instead of sugar because they looked the same. “We were told she attempted to steal an artifact. And she has an unidentified, innate ability.”

The man closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “Yes, I saw her case as well, though I thought this had already been dismissed. I’m only going to say this once: a blonde haired mage would not have been able to cast an illusion spell strong enough to hide their entire body for that length of time. Nor would they have been able to cast such destructive and accurate spells because they have blonde hair.”

“I simply followed orders,” the warden said stiffly, but the man was already shaking his head.

“I swear, a quarter of your prisoners are going to be gone by the end of the day at this rate. The stories don’t work. If you lot had just investigated it more fully, you wouldn’t be wasting so much money on prisoners who shouldn’t even be here. I know you get most of your prisoners from other nations, but this is still ridiculous.” The man turned to Eko. “What about you? Did you even commit a crime?”

“Not really,” Eko replied, fighting down the rising hope in his chest.

The man grunted. “I’ll look more into you later.” He went back to the warden. “For now, we can make sure all the cracks and crevices are sealed properly, deal with any vermin, and turn this into a storage room. Storing it underground will certainly be more pragmatic than housing your food in the compound.” He snapped his fingers at Meness. “Get this girl out of my sight.”

Meness hesitated. “And do what with her, sir?”

“Put her on the next wagon out of here, leave her out in the woods–I don’t care what you do with her, but she’s no longer our problem,” he bit, already turning to leave, the warden at his heels.

Eko and Wanily shared a look. He forced a smile onto his face. It wasn’t even that bitter. “Sounds like you really are getting out of here.” He literally couldn’t believe it. He’d spent years here, and she was getting out after just three days?

It was for the best, he thought sullenly. She was a child framed for a terrible crime. She had her whole life ahead of her. Not that Eko was all that old either at, what, twenty-nine now?

She smiled. “You’ll get out of here, too. Even if it’s not right now, when I become the Archmage, I'll bust you out.”

He gave a wet chuckle. “Right.” He stood with her as Meness unlocked the door to her cell. He’d been mulling over it the last three days, haunted by the words of a dead man. And what good were they? It was Leolin’s letter that made Eko more inclined to listen to Atlas, and look where that had gotten him.

But... he might be getting out of here, too. After years of being degraded and forgotten, Eko might be getting out. Had that been what Leolin wanted for him? Why?

Was it so that he could meet Wanily?

“Wanily,” he called. She looked back at him, expression far too open, “Are you sure you don’t even want a couple hints?”

She grinned, and this time it was plenty smug. “Well, I said I’d get out of prison. Now I’m getting out of prison. I say I’m going to be the Archmage, so I’ll be the Archmage. I don’t need any hints. But thanks, I guess.”

He huffed out a laugh. She trailed after Meness towards the door to the rest of the prison. She looked back on more time when Meness opened it for her. “Don’t die.”

He chuckled. “Same to you.” She turned around. He bit his lip.

He’d probably never get another chance.

He peered into her future. Thousands of paths, of months and years, spread out before him and flashed through his mind. It was more–more than there should be for a random child. But, well, for the most powerful mage that would ever live? Maybe it was normal.

He had never seen futures like hers before. There was something happening in the world, something that had to do with her. The calamity he saw in her future, the world-wide devastation? It didn’t appear in the futures of anyone else he had seen recently. Which meant there was something in the world that was focused on her.

And he saw it. Among the hundreds and hundreds of path–of joy, of heartache, of adventure, of defeat–he saw only one ultimate triumph. At least, that’s what he thought it was. There was something bright and iridescent in that future, something his powers struggled to dictate to him. But deep down, he knew. There was only one future where they–the whole bloody world–won, and it was because of this girl. Wanily.

His heart hammered in his chest as the visions ended, leaving him trembling all over. In the same moment, the door clanged shut, and Wanily was gone.

Eko stumbled back and sat heavily in the middle of his cell, processing all that he’d just seen, tears in his eyes even as he smiled. Peering into the future wasn’t usually something so taxing. Maybe that had to do with the content though.

He found himself grinning. Aaron caught the expression and arched an eyebrow. “Looked into her future, did you? She become Archmage or what?”

Eko just shook his head. He’d made mistakes, done some bad things, but not this time. He couldn’t afford to let anything slip about her future. The world needed very specific things to happen in a very specific order. It needed Wanily to learn magic, to navigate this world, to become the Archmage. If she didn’t, there wouldn’t be any world left.