Authors of Our Destiny

"I don't believe it. I do not believe it! Hûnbaba! You mean to tell me that this is the fate that awaits my friends, my classmates?"

The great spirit made no whiff of reply.

"Who are you to decide? What entitles you to make such a prophecy?"

Elwin wouldn't have made such a tirade if he did not regard Hûnbaba's words as truth. But from the way his ancient words wrung his heart; the sensation that he'd been struck by a hammer on the back of his skull, the terrible nausea that he'd been ensnared by forces outside his control made him feel utterly powerless; what difference did the future hold for him, even though he tried his best? Nothing! He'd be alone again, he would lose his friends, he was afraid of what he would become...

So denial seized his being. He cared little now for propriety.

What would have happened if he did not speak of the tale? If he did not... 

"Is it because I spoke of the Serpent and the Dragon?"

Hûnbaba's radiant eyes glistened in their recessed stone sockets. Drops of amber began to fall out of them, sizzling moisture away as molten metal strikes water.

YES was his reply to Elwin.

Something about Hûnbaba told Mirai that the prophecy was not his to withhold.

"Great spirit Hûnbaba... did you have a choice in the prophecy? Or were you forced to make it to us?"

The great spirit began to whisper to them, as if to confide in them a forbidden secret.

"Disciples of Astinel. I can feel with my heart the protest of your own flesh, how you suffer from knowing the destiny you face. It was my wish that the moment would never come where the world would command me to dispense this knowledge upon your souls. Time laughs at us, it mocks us with the fates that it ordains; my laughter was not of joy or relief, but a response in kind to the uncaring mockery of this world."

"What do you mean, Hûnbaba? Who ordains these prophecies?"

"The Tapestry of Time. It foretold me that a day would come when I would hear the story of the Serpent and the Dragon, though I did not know of its contents; and upon hearing it, I must burden you with the knowledge of the future, whether for good or ill."

"So it isn't a prophecy in itself, but more a knowledge of what will happen? But by telling it, haven't you made it real? Couldn't you have chosen not to tell us, Hûnbaba? What compels you to follow the rules of nature?"

"There are laws which govern beings of creation, of which I am a part. I was not the one to weave this future upon your lives; it does not change the fact that such a destiny awaits you, whether you accept it or not. Regrettably, fate ordained that I must be the one to make you aware. You have committed no fault of your own, in the telling of your tale."

But even if it wasn't Elwin's fault... all his life he believed that he was the steerer of his own destiny. Itinera Propria Eligimus, Consul Astinel said so himself. But the possibility that all the things he did and thought were already written in the weaves of time, that he and everyone else was a puppet of that called destiny, that every misfortune and disaster was already stamped upon the lifetimes of everyone who had ever lived to which they had no control whatsoever... stirred in Elwin a deep, existential nausea, a disgust so intense that it made his head throb once again.

No, he shouldn't believe it. His friends shall not fight one another. No one will fall as the serpent nor the dragon like from the tale he uttered.

"Which one of us shall fall? Who shall rise?" asked Mirai, her thoughts in a countermelody to Elwin's. If such a thing was to pass, then she wanted to know for certain.

The great spirit pushed his claws into Elwin and Mirai's uniforms, gentler this time. Hûnbaba's voice in their heads cooled into a soft whisper, making them close their eyes, and words began to flow again.

"I know not who out of the seventeen they shall be, nor who would prevail; into the weaves of time are written things that are, things that were, and things which shall be."

They both listened intently to the spirit's wisdom.

"But for what shall be, there are no authors as of yet. Therein lies your greatest hope, a hope against the immutability of fate. Your choices from here on shall either free you, or set your positions in stone. Remember. Remember that you are the sum of your choices."

Elwin and Mirai were drenched in cold sweat; it was a prophecy which now had its participants, but as to who would take on the particular roles, was not yet written.

The prophecy Hûnbaba relayed was a warning for him and Mirai, a warning for both of them not to fall. But if he prevented his own downfall, then who was to fall in his place?

A whiff of thought blazed across Elwin's mind, which had once so furiously considered vengeance against Lucian.

Perhaps, this moment was where Elwin could rise or fall...

In the moment of truth, what would he do against Lucian, now that he had the power? Even though he had laid to rest the loss of his father, had Elwin defeated himself truly? 

What would Lucian do in return? What creatures would they both become?

"But why, great Hûnbaba? Why tell only us, and if you knew of this, why so late? Such a thing – if it could be called prophecy – is important to everyone else! Surely by working together, we could create a future where no one has to fall!"

"Then realize your vision, as difficult as it may be. Resist the paths ordained by fate."

His father's letter came into his mind. He'd written that each of the four Epitomic Forms could have the power to alter a specific pillar of reality, and if they were performed together, they could even control the weaves, to re-write its very rules... what was the essence of the great evil he had to vanquish? His father did not reveal to him in detail exactly what such enemies were...

"Then I'll try. No, I won't simply try – I will. I won't let anyone else fall." Elwin swallowed hard, feeling his throat burn with what had transpired. 

A moment passed before he spoke again.

"But for me – for us – our first step must be to find our friends in the darkness. If you have been satisfied with the tale... then please uphold the end of your word."

At his request, the great spirit parted his claws from them at last. He pointed to the pocket of Elwin's battle uniform.

"YOU ALREADY POSSESS THE TOOL TO FIND THEM."

Elwin reached for his right pocket, and his concern abated at what he felt. He pulled out a small instrument with a fading paintcoat of red.

It was Isaac's harmonica, given to him as a gift at Cita de Lumière a year ago. Was it there in his pocket all along? He didn't remember packing it for the trip, nor the...

By instinct, Elwin put his lips upon the metal windpipe, and blew into it cautiously. A single, wistful note fluttered out of it, and another, and then another, in a melody that felt nostalgic to him, even though he'd never once heard or played a harmonica before; focusing his memory onto the vision of his two friends, he sung the instrument in an amateur's grasp, but one by one, strange wisps of light began to materialize out of the dim air around them.

At their feet were little spirits – sprites instead of spirits as the storybooks called them – of wind and fire, glowing bright, bouncing on the rock and across the pillars. Some took on the shape of simple spheres; others took on more complex forms. To Elwin's eye some looked vaguely like his brother, Andre; to Mirai they looked like her brothers Makoto and Masato. 

The more the notes flowed from Isaac's harmonica, the more they came into being.

They began to tug on Elwin and Mirai's robes, in the direction beyond Hûnbaba's altar. It was a sight Elwin never knew he could see, nor knew could exist. The world was a profoundly stranger place than he'd ever imagined.

But before Elwin and Mirai could offer their utmost thanks to leave, Elwin had to resolve his curiosity.

"Wait, great Hûnbaba, you declared there's seventeen of us who entered this city, when it should really be sixteen. Four squadras of four people should make sixteen. What do you mean by seventeen?"

"I MAKE NO WRONG. SEVENTEEN HAVE ENTERED THIS CITY."

"Not sixteen? What does that imply?"

"IT MEANS YOU ARE NOT ALONE."

A chill ran down both of their spines.

Hûnbaba motioned them closer.

"BE WARY. THERE IS A GREAT, FOUL PRESENCE PROWLING IN THESE HALLS, ACRID WITH THE STING OF THE ABYSS."

"A 'foul presence'?"

"IT PRETENDS TO BE MY KIND, BUT UNLIKE WE, IT IS NOT NATURE WHICH PRODUCED IT. THE FOUL PRESENCE MUST BE EQUALLY CLEVER AS I, FOR IT REMAINS OUT OF MY STRIKE."

Both of them gulped. If beings like Hûnbaba could still exist, then it stood to reason that the foul presence may as well be like him, but lacking in benevolence...

"GO WELL, AND GO SAFE, DISCIPLES OF ASTINEL. MAY THE SPIRITS OF YOUR SONG CARRY YOU FAR."

They offered a respectful bow, and moved past Hûnbaba, their minds still reverberating with the drums of the prophecy, having been rattled at the witness of tales they only imagined in storybooks of old.

All around them, the little wind and fire sprites skipped without a sound upon the rivers and river-rocks into the dark, leading them someplace where their other halves were.

When Elwin and Mirai turned their heads to see Hûnbaba again, the great spirit had vanished from their vision; all the pillars and water around him were whole again.