Before picture, a conversation between Sara and Brandon:
“Have you talked to Fox about it?” Sara asked.
Brandon shook his head. “No. It never seemed like a good time.”
“I would mention it to Fox, it could mean something,” Sara told him.
Brandon looked at her. “Like what?”
Sara shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re reacting to Atharia’s magic or something.”
Brandon glanced away. “The voices told me I was the Soul’s chosen one,” he muttered.
Sara frowned in confusion. “What does that mean?”
Sara frowned and she looked up at him. “What kind of voices?”
Brandon shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. I hear them, but they don’t belong to anything with a physical form. And when I try to place where the voices are coming from, it’s like trying to catch the wind.”
He gazed across the fields of golden wheat; the stalks swaying in the breeze. Farmers tended the crop, half hidden among the tall shafts, scythes in hand. The forest stretched around them in a bowl, cabins and barns dotted the landscape. Off in the distance stood the ruins of an ancient temple.
“Have you talked to Fox about it?” Sara asked.
Brandon blinked out of his reverie, taking a deep breath. The call of birds filled the air, followed by the fluttering of wings as their hiding place was disturbed. Up ahead, Justin cried out, ducking behind Jack.
“It never seems like a good time,” Brandon finally answered.
Sara hummed, watching the ruined temple as they walked past. A circular platform and statue were all that remained. From this distance, Sara could pick out the form of a large, winged woman in the statue; her sword raised above her head, shield held beside her. A crown sat on her head as her stone armour shimmered in the sunlight.
“I would mention it to Fox, it could mean something,” Sara told him.
A horse-drawn carriage rumbled along the road. A weary driver sat up front as his companions tended to the wares in the back. Fox motioned for the group to move to the side, allowing the merchants to pass. The driver nodded at Fox, who bowed his head in response. Brandon caught the eye of a young man, who smiled and waved. Brandon raised a hand to acknowledge him, catching a brief conversation the young man had with the other man, and the word, “Makar.”
Brandon made a mental note to ask Fox what Makar meant in Atharian. He turned back to Sara. “What could it mean?”
Sara shrugged. “I don’t k…
They set off again, gravel crunching underfoot. The wheat fields gave way to sprawling grasslands, a mountain range loomed in the distance. The peaks were jagged, as if added as an after-thought by an absent-minded painter.
Brandon relished the serenity of the realm’s beauty. The calmness, the stillness. The road branched out, hand-painted signs stood at the crossroads, marking where towns and villages were located. Fox stopped the group to point at one such sign. He read it in Atharian first, sounding out each syllable.
“It translates to Redwater, in your tongue,” Fox said.
“How much further?” Jack asked.
Fox turned towards the setting sun, scratching behind his right ear. “Too far for one day. We’ll soon make camp and rest.” He motioned for them to start off again. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you hike all night.”
Brandon and Sara lagged behind but kept Fox in their sights. “The voices told me I was the Soul’s chosen one,” Brandon whispered.
Sara frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Damned if I know.”
The sun sank beyond the horizon, painting the sky in red, yellow, and orange, reminding Brandon of flames. The sun seemed to double in size as it descended behind the mountains, its surface blazing.
“Well, I’d still mention it to Fox. He would definitely know what’s going on,” Sara said.
Brandon sighed. “Maybe.”
Sara patted his arm. “Don’t worry, Brandon, we’ll get you ironed out. Who knows? Maybe you and Beckett are destined to lead the charge against the dark fae and Zalera.”
Brandon wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “And how would we lead the charge, huh?”
“With you being the tank and Jack being the fire mage, duh,” Sara answered.
“Yeah? And what kind of tank would I be?”
Sara smiled at him. “What else? A paladin, of course.”
Before and after edits from The Cursed of Atharia of the same conversation.
What do you think?
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