The boy's whisper emerged rough and confused.
"Chosen ones? What are those?"
The Sage turned fully toward him, his masked face tracking across the small frame shaking with cold and grief.
"The strongest and most powerful geniuses of each race are bestowed with a title from the universe called the Chosen One."
His voice took on an almost lecturing quality.
"The elves have their prodigies blessed by the World Tree, nurtured in sacred groves where ancient aura still flows pure and untainted."
One hand rose, fingers spreading to count off points.
"The demons have their princes bathed in ancient blood, transformed by rituals passed down since before our kind was even born."
Another finger.
"The dragons have their hatchlings born with power already burning in their veins, inheriting strength that takes others lifetimes to achieve."
His hand lowered, settling against his side.
