The wind did not simply blow into Brindlewick.
It arrived.
Dramatically.
Dust spiraled through the air, cloaks fluttered, and several villagers gasped in unison as a figure stepped through the shifting haze like someone who had practiced this entrance—and perfected it.
Edrin, unfortunately, was in the worst possible position to appreciate it.
He had turned to look.
Then immediately gotten dust in his eye.
"Ah—wait—hold on—" he sputtered, rubbing his face and blinking furiously. "I can't see destiny, give me a moment—"
By the time his vision cleared, she was already standing there.
Lyra Windfall.
Tall, composed, and radiating the kind of confidence that suggested she had never once tripped over her own feet in her entire life.
Edrin instinctively disliked her.
"Which one of you," she said, her voice calm but edged with exhaustion, "is the chosen hero?"
The entire crowd pointed at Edrin.
He raised a hand weakly. "I'd like to clarify that this is still under dispute."
Lyra looked at him.
Then she looked at the Stone of Ages.
Then back at him.
"…No," she said.
Edrin blinked. "No?"
"No," she repeated. "That's incorrect."
Edrin nodded eagerly. "I agree completely."
Elder Bram stepped forward. "The stone has chosen."
Lyra gestured at Edrin. "This?"
"I am standing right here," Edrin said.
"Yes," she replied, "and that's part of the problem."
Edrin placed a hand on his chest. "I feel like I should be offended."
"You should be realistic," she said.
Edrin considered that. "That's fair."
Lyra took a slow breath, clearly attempting to remain calm. "I crossed three regions because the reports said the Stone of Ages had awakened. That meant a hero had been chosen."
"Yes," Bram said proudly.
Lyra pointed again. "That is not a hero."
Edrin nodded. "Thank you."
Bram shook his head. "Appearances can be deceiving."
Lyra stared at Edrin for a long moment.
Edrin gave a small, awkward wave.
"…They would have to be extremely deceiving," she said flatly.
Edrin lowered his hand. "That hurt a little."
The stone pulsed brightly.
Lyra glanced at it, then sighed—the kind of sigh that carried the weight of someone realizing their day had just become significantly worse.
"…Fine," she said at last.
Edrin blinked. "Fine?"
"If the stone has chosen him, then arguing won't change it."
"I like where this is going," Edrin said.
"It's not going anywhere good," Lyra replied.
She stepped closer, looking him up and down like a problem she wasn't sure how to solve.
"Can you fight?"
"No."
"Use magic?"
"No."
"Run?"
"…Poorly."
Lyra closed her eyes.
"Of course," she murmured.
Edrin shifted awkwardly. "In my defense, I didn't apply for this."
"You don't apply for destiny," she said.
"You should. It would improve quality control."
For a brief moment, it looked like Lyra might smile.
Then she didn't.
Instead, she straightened and crossed her arms.
"Training starts immediately," she said.
Edrin froze. "Immediately?"
"Yes."
"As in… later today immediately? Or—"
"Now."
Edrin looked around helplessly. "I haven't emotionally prepared for that."
"You won't have time to."
"That seems unfair."
"The invaders won't be fair either."
Edrin paused.
"…That's a strong argument," he admitted.
Lyra turned and began walking toward the edge of the village. "Come on."
Edrin didn't move.
"…Do I have a choice?" he called after her.
"No."
He sighed deeply.
Then followed.
After a few steps, he tripped on absolutely nothing and nearly fell.
Lyra stopped, watching this happen with growing concern.
"…We are going to die," she said.
Edrin caught himself at the last second and looked up.
"I prefer to think of it as a learning experience."
Lyra turned and kept walking.
"Yes," she said dryly. "A very short one."
Edrin hurried after her, already out of breath.
And somewhere behind them, the Stone of Ages glowed softly—completely confident in a decision that no one else understood.