# Chapter 1: The Glow of Destiny

Gavin wiped the sweat from his forehead as he bent down to pick up another wheat bundle. The sun beat down on the fields, making the day hotter than usual. He glanced at the sky, hoping for some clouds to provide relief, but saw only the vast blue emptiness stretching above him.

"Gavin! Water break!" his father called from the edge of the field.

He straightened his back, feeling the familiar ache that came with harvesting. The wheat field stretched far, with most of it still waiting to be harvested. At this rate, they'd be at it for another week at least.

Gavin walked toward the shade of the large oak tree where his father sat. Their water jug rested in the shadow, keeping somewhat cool despite the heat.

"We're making good progress," his father said, handing him the water jug.

Gavin took a long drink. "Not fast enough. The Hendersons finished their harvest yesterday."

"The Hendersons have four sons." His father chuckled. "We have just the two of us since your brother left for the capital."

Gavin nodded, thinking about his older brother who'd gone to Oraculum three years ago to join the royal guards. They received letters occasionally, full of stories about the grand city with its white towers and bustling markets.

"I'll get back to it," Gavin said, handing the water jug back to his father.

As he turned to head back to the field, he noticed a cloud of dust on the road leading to their farm. He stopped, squinting to see better.

"Father, someone's coming."

His father stood up, shielding his eyes from the sun. "Merchants, maybe? It's too early for tax collectors."

As the dust cloud came closer, Gavin made out three horses pulling an ornate carriage. The carriage gleamed gold in the sunlight, adorned with symbols he recognized from temple prayer books.

"Temple Oracles," his father whispered, his voice suddenly tense. "What do they want here?"

Gavin's stomach tightened. Everyone knew what it meant when Temple Oracles visited remote farms. They came searching for the next Chosen One. But that couldn't be why they were here. The odds of being selected were astronomically small. There were thousands of farms across Prophecia.

The carriage stopped at the edge of their property. Three figures dressed in flowing white robes stepped out, their faces partially hidden by ceremonial hoods. The tallest one carried a wooden box inlaid with silver.

"Stay here," his father said, walking toward the visitors.

Gavin didn't listen. Overcome with curiosity, he followed a few paces behind his father.

The tallest Oracle stepped forward. "Greetings, Farmer Wheatfield. We come on sacred business."

His father bowed slightly. "Oracle. Our home is humble, but you're welcome here."

The Oracle nodded. "We seek young men between eighteen and twenty-five summers. The Prophecy Stone has guided us to this region."

Gavin felt his father tense. "My son is twenty-two, but surely you're not—"

"All must be tested when the Stone directs us." The Oracle's voice left no room for argument. "The Dark Lord's powers grow stronger each day. We cannot afford to miss the one who might save us all."

The second Oracle opened the wooden box, revealing a smooth, round stone that seemed to absorb the sunlight rather than reflect it. It sat on a velvet cushion, looking utterly ordinary except for its perfect roundness.

"Step forward, young man," the third Oracle said, gesturing to Gavin.

Gavin looked at his father, who nodded reluctantly. With heavy feet, he moved closer to the Oracles and their stone.

"Place your hand above the Prophecy Stone," the tall Oracle instructed.

Gavin extended his hand, holding it a few inches above the stone. He expected nothing to happen. Stories said the stone had glowed only a handful of times in the past century, and most of those Chosen Ones had already come and gone, failing in their quests against the Dark Lord.

For a moment, nothing happened. The stone remained dull and ordinary. Gavin began to lower his hand, relief washing over him.

Then the stone changed.

At first, it was just a flicker of light from within its depths. Then a soft blue glow spread throughout the stone, growing brighter until it illuminated the faces of everyone standing nearby. The light pulsed in rhythm, almost like a heartbeat.

The Oracles gasped in unison. The tallest one fell to his knees.

"The Stone has spoken," he said, his voice trembling with excitement. "You are the Chosen One."

Gavin pulled his hand back as if burned. "There must be a mistake."

"The Stone does not make mistakes," the second Oracle said firmly. "You have been chosen by the Nine Gods to face the Dark Lord and save our world."

Gavin turned to his father, whose face had gone pale. "Father?"

"This is an honor," his father said, but his voice cracked on the last word.

Gavin knew what his father was thinking. Being selected as the Chosen One was supposedly the highest honor in Prophecia. Songs were sung about the Chosen Ones, and their names were recorded in the sacred texts.

But everyone also knew what happened to Chosen Ones. They failed. They died. Or they disappeared. Not a single one in recent memory had actually defeated the Dark Lord.

"You must come with us to Oraculum immediately," the tall Oracle said, closing the box now that the stone had stopped glowing. "You will be trained in the ways of combat and magic."

"But the harvest—" Gavin started.

"The kingdom will send workers to help your father," the third Oracle assured him. "The Chosen One's family is always provided for."

His father stepped forward. "How long before he returns?"

The Oracles exchanged glances. "That depends on his training and the will of the gods," the tall one said carefully. "But he must leave today. Now."

"Can I at least gather my things?" Gavin asked, still struggling to process what was happening.

"We have everything you will need," the second Oracle said. "The Temple provides for the Chosen One."

His father approached him, placing both hands on his shoulders. "Gavin, I..." He stopped, seemingly unable to find the right words.

Gavin nodded, understanding the unspoken message. They both knew the stories of what happened to Chosen Ones. This might be the last time they saw each other.

"I'll make you proud," Gavin said, though he didn't believe his own words.

His father pulled him into a tight embrace. "You already have."

The Oracles waited patiently for their goodbye, then led Gavin to the carriage. As he climbed inside, he looked back at his father standing alone by the wheat field, growing smaller as the carriage pulled away.

Inside the carriage, the Oracles sat across from him, their expressions solemn.

"What happens now?" Gavin asked.

"We travel to Oraculum," the tall Oracle said. "You will be presented to the king and queen, then begin your training at the Sacred Temple."

Gavin nodded, looking out the window as his farm disappeared from view. The life he'd known was already behind him, replaced by a destiny he never wanted and a duty he suspected he couldn't fulfill.

---

The journey to Oraculum took three days. The Oracles spoke little, spending most of their time in prayer or consulting ancient texts they carried with them. They stopped at inns along the way, where Gavin noticed people treating him differently once they learned who he was – or rather, what he was. Some looked at him with hope, others with pity.

On the third day, as they crested a hill, Gavin saw Oraculum spread out before them. The capital gleamed white in the sunlight, its towers reaching toward the sky, golden rooftops reflecting the sun. The city was far larger than he'd imagined from his brother's descriptions.

"Behold Oraculum," the tall Oracle said, "the crown jewel of Prophecia and your new home."

The carriage passed through massive gates and into streets lined with people going about their business. Many stopped to stare as the Temple carriage passed, some bowing their heads in respect.

They arrived at the Sacred Temple, a circular structure that dominated the highest point of the city. Attendants rushed to help them from the carriage, bowing deeply to Gavin.

"This way, Chosen One," a young acolyte said, leading him up the temple steps.

Inside, the temple opened into a vast circular chamber with a dome that Gavin saw could be opened to the sky. Currently closed, it was painted with images of stars and planets.

The tall Oracle guided him through hallways lined with statues of the Nine Gods until they reached a small, plain room with a bed, desk, and wardrobe.

"These will be your quarters during training," the Oracle explained. "Rest now. Tomorrow you will be presented to the royal court, then your training begins."

Left alone, Gavin sat on the bed, trying to make sense of how quickly his life had changed. Just days ago, he'd been harvesting wheat, worrying about ordinary things like weather and crop yields. Now he was expected to save the world.

He opened the wardrobe and found it full of new clothes – simple training attire as well as more formal garments, presumably for his presentation at court. Everything was perfectly his size.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Enter," he called.

A young woman in acolyte robes stepped in carrying a tray of food. "Your dinner, Chosen One."

"Just Gavin is fine," he said, uncomfortable with the title.

She smiled slightly. "I'm afraid protocol requires us to address you by your title. The Nine Gods have bestowed this honor upon you."

"Some honor," Gavin muttered as she set down the tray.

She paused, looking at him with curiosity. "The calling is difficult, but glorious. Many would give anything to be in your position."

"They're welcome to it," he said, then immediately regretted his honesty. "I'm sorry. This is all very new."

"Of course." She bowed slightly. "Is there anything else you require?"

Gavin shook his head, and she left him alone with his thoughts and a meal that looked far more appetizing than anything he'd eaten on the farm.

After eating, he tried to sleep but found himself staring at the ceiling, his mind racing. He thought about his father finishing the harvest alone, about his brother somewhere in the city, possibly unaware that his younger brother was now the Chosen One.

Hours passed. The temple grew quiet as night deepened. Unable to rest and feeling suffocated by the stone walls around him, Gavin made a decision. He needed air. He needed to see the city.

He dressed in the plainest clothes he could find in the wardrobe and slipped out of his room. The hallways were mostly empty, with only a few acolytes on night duty who bowed as he passed. No one stopped him or questioned where he was going. Apparently, the Chosen One had freedom to move about as he pleased.

He found his way to a side exit and stepped out into the cool night air. Oraculum at night was beautiful, with lanterns illuminating the streets and the palace on the opposite hill glowing with hundreds of lights.

Gavin wandered down from the temple hill into the main part of the city. Despite the late hour, many establishments remained open – taverns mostly, spilling light and laughter onto the cobblestone streets.

He paused outside one called "The Prophet's Rest," drawn by the warm atmosphere inside. After a moment's hesitation, he pushed open the door and entered.

The tavern was crowded but not packed. People sat at wooden tables, drinking and talking, while a man in the corner played a lute. No one paid particular attention to Gavin as he made his way to the bar.

"What'll it be?" the barkeeper asked.

"Ale, please," Gavin said, placing a copper coin on the counter – one of the few he'd brought with him from home.

The barkeeper slid a mug toward him, and Gavin took it to an empty table in the corner. He sipped the ale, which was far better than the rough brew they made back home, and watched the tavern patrons. These people had no idea that the newest Chosen One sat among them, and he preferred it that way.

"Mind if I join you?" a voice asked.

Gavin looked up to see an old man standing beside his table. The man's hair and beard were white as snow, but his eyes were bright and alert. He wore simple traveling clothes that had seen better days.

"Go ahead," Gavin said, gesturing to the empty chair.

The old man sat down with a grunt, placing his own mug on the table. "New to the city?"

Gavin nodded. "Is it that obvious?"

"You have that look about you." The old man chuckled. "The wide-eyed wonder of someone seeing Oraculum for the first time."

"I arrived today," Gavin admitted.

"Business or pleasure?"

Gavin hesitated. "Neither, exactly. I was... brought here."

"Ah." The old man took a long drink from his mug. "Let me guess. The Temple?"

Gavin looked at him sharply. "How did you know?"

The old man tapped his nose. "I've seen that look before; that mix of confusion and dread. You're not the first farm boy they've dragged to the city, and you won't be the last."

"You know about the Temple's... recruitment?"

"More than most." The old man leaned forward. "Tell me, did they show you a stone? A perfectly round one that glows?"

Gavin nearly choked on his ale. "How could you possibly know that?"

The old man's eyes twinkled. "Because, my young friend, I was once in your position. A very, very long time ago."

Gavin stared at the old man, taking in his weathered face and bright eyes. "You're claiming to be a former Chosen One?"

"Not just any Chosen One." The old man's voice dropped to a whisper. "The first one."

Gavin laughed, unable to help himself. "That's impossible. The first Chosen One lived centuries ago."

"Nine hundred and seventy-two years, to be precise." The old man didn't seem offended by Gavin's disbelief. "And yet, here I sit."

"If you're truly that old, then how—"

"Am I still alive?" The old man grinned. "That, my friend, is where the story gets interesting."

Gavin should have dismissed the man as a lunatic or a liar, but something in those ancient eyes made him pause. "I'm listening."

"Not here." The old man glanced around the tavern. "Too many ears. Let me just ask you this: have they told you yet what happened to all the Chosen Ones before you?"

Gavin shook his head. "Not specifically."

"Ask them tomorrow. Watch their faces when they answer." The old man drained his mug. "And ask yourself this: if the system worked, why do they need a new Chosen One every few months or years?"

The question struck Gavin like a physical blow. It was the same doubt he'd been harboring since the stone glowed.

"Who are you, really?" Gavin asked.

"My name is Aldric. Once upon a time, I was a farmer like you. Then the stone glowed, and my life changed." The old man – Aldric – reached into his pocket and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. "Here. Take this."

Gavin accepted the small bundle and carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a flat piece of metal shaped like a star, covered in strange markings and symbols. In the center was what looked like a map, but not of any land Gavin recognized.

"What is this?"

"A way out," Aldric said simply. "When you decide you don't want to die for a cause that can't be won, find me again. I'll be here, same table, three nights from now."

"A way out of what?"

"Your destiny." Aldric stood up. "There's more to the universe than Prophecia, more than the endless cycle of Chosen Ones and Dark Lords. I found another path. So can you."

Before Gavin could ask another question, Aldric walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Gavin sat there, staring at the star-shaped object in his hand. It seemed to pulse with a faint energy, similar to how the Prophecy Stone had glowed.

After finishing his ale, Gavin carefully wrapped the star map and tucked it into his pocket. He made his way back to the Temple, slipping in through the same side entrance he'd used to leave.

In his quarters, Gavin pulled out the star map again, studying its strange markings under the light of a candle. Was Aldric truly the first Chosen One? Could he really be centuries old? And what did he mean by "another path"?

Gavin lay on his bed as he clutched the star map in his hand. Tomorrow he would be presented to the king and queen. Tomorrow his training would begin. Tomorrow he would officially start down the path that had led so many others to failure or death.

But tonight, his mind was filled with Aldric's words and the promise of something beyond his prophesied duty – a cosmic freedom he hadn't known was possible.

He fell asleep with the star map still in his hand, feeling torn between the weight of his new responsibility and the tantalizing hint of an escape he never knew existed.