Chapter 6 - 006 ※ Beware the Prophecy That Wasn't Supposed to Involve You

I counted the seconds in my head, my mind spinning as I tried to process everything that had happened, everything I had learned. Three hours and a half passed before we finally reached a village. It wasn't much—just a small collection of huts barely clinging to the desert landscape—but it was a welcome sight. The heat and exhaustion from the desert had left me feeling drained, my body and mind screaming for rest. But I couldn't let myself relax. Not yet. Not when there were still so many questions burning inside me, questions I needed answers to. I couldn't let myself be lulled into comfort while uncertainty loomed so large around me.

After a brief exchange with the innkeeper, we made our way to a room. It was small, humble, and smelled faintly of wood and dust, but it was clean, and that was enough. The bed wasn't much—hard and creaky with age, the sort that made your body ache the longer you laid in it—but it was a bed. And there, beside it, was a small crib, set up for a baby. I froze for a moment as I looked at it, my heart beating a little faster. The crib was a cruel reminder of my situation—trapped in this infantile body, utterly powerless, unable to change anything. I wanted to scream, to rage against this unfair fate, but I swallowed those feelings down, forcing myself to remain calm. There was no point in getting angry at things I couldn't control. I had to figure out what was happening, what I had to do next.

He gently settled me into the crib, his movements soft but deliberate, almost as if he were treating me with a kind of reverence. Then, as if reading my thoughts, he ordered hot soup for dinner and asked for a room with a baby bed. His voice was steady, almost calm, like nothing was out of the ordinary. But my mind was racing. The way he spoke to me—it was as if he knew me, as if he understood exactly who I was and what I was going through. But how? How could he possibly know anything? The uncertainty twisted in my gut, adding to the growing pile of questions that seemed to multiply the longer I thought about it.

"I think you're almost one year old," he said, breaking through the haze of my thoughts with a simple, matter-of-fact statement.

The words hit me like a splash of cold water. For a moment, I couldn't quite grasp their meaning. I stared at him, confused, my brain struggling to keep up. Then, slowly, it clicked. According to what Ellie had once told me, it took about eight months for the world of the destination book to align with the arrival of the new person. It was a process, a transition of sorts. It had been eight months since I had fallen into this world. Eight months since I had left everything behind and arrived here, in the Desert of Tywod.

So, mentally, I was twenty years and eight months old, with all the knowledge and experience that came with that. But physically? I was still an infant, trapped in the body of someone who couldn't do anything for themselves. A baby, powerless, at the mercy of those around me. My mind rebelled against the reality of it. A grown woman, with the mind of an adult, but trapped in the most helpless form imaginable.

"It's been a year and seven months since I left home," he continued, his voice steady but weighed down by something I couldn't quite place. "A year and seven months since I set out on a journey that only I could take."

I frowned as I listened, trying to make sense of what he was saying. This wasn't something I remembered from the book. Was this part of the original story? Had I changed something simply by being here? Or had this happened before I arrived? Had I altered the timeline in some way by my mere presence in this world? There were too many unknowns, too many things that didn't add up.

"You see," he said, his voice drawing me back from my spiraling thoughts, "my older sister was an oracle. She saw a prophecy just before her death. Something that only I could truly understand. And now, I've finally found you."

My heart skipped a beat, and I froze. His words, though calm, hit me like a thunderclap. What did he mean? Prophecy? How did this relate to me? Was he looking for me? Why? So many questions rushed through my mind, but I couldn't make sense of them. He was talking about something far beyond anything I had expected. A prophecy? But how was I involved in it? My thoughts scrambled to piece everything together, but the more I tried, the more everything seemed to slip through my fingers.

His voice continued, almost too calm for the storm of questions I was dealing with. "If what the legends my father told me are true, the ones he passed down to me before he handed over the crown," he said, almost as if reassuring himself, "I think you're starting to understand everything I'm saying."

Was I? Honestly, I wasn't sure I understood anything. I was trying, but everything felt so out of place. I couldn't even remember how I had ended up here, so how was I supposed to make sense of all these revelations being thrown at me? Everything was happening too fast, and I had no frame of reference for it.

But there was one thing I did know: I was starting to understand what he meant. But that was the problem—it wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't supposed to know any of this. The whole point of being here, of going on this journey, was that I was meant to discover things as I went along, not be handed them all at once. This wasn't how it was supposed to unfold, and yet it was happening, and I had no control over it.

What kind of crazy legend did your father tell you? I thought, though the words never left my mouth. Was this all because of my presence here? Had my existence altered everything so drastically? I had no answers, only more questions. My frustration was growing with each passing second.

"My father told me something that only the emperor can know about," he said, his voice growing more serious, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "Something that the emperor must understand, so they can prepare for when the time comes. That's why he told only me—once I was crowned, just like his father did before him."

I felt a surge of impatience rise up in me. The suspense was unbearable. I needed to know what he was talking about, needed him to just say it. Whatever it was, I had to hear it. But he was taking his time, letting the silence hang heavy between us, and I couldn't take it anymore.

He took a deep breath, his gaze unwavering, his voice quiet but intense. "It's about a divine race."

The words hit me like a bolt of lightning, and for a long moment, I couldn't process what he had just said. A divine race? What did that even mean? Was this part of the same prophecy? Or was this something new? How could he know about it? This wasn't a story I recognized, not something I'd read in the book. And yet, here it was, being revealed to me like a twisted piece of a puzzle I couldn't even begin to understand.

The words echoed in my mind, but they made no sense. How was it possible for someone like him—someone who seemed so disconnected from the greater narrative—to know something so important, so monumental? A divine race. The phrase felt heavy, like it carried the weight of everything that had come before it and everything that was yet to come.

I wanted to ask more, to demand answers, but the truth was, I had no idea what was going on. Every word he spoke only raised more questions, and I was no closer to understanding any of it. But there was one thing I did know: whatever was happening, it was connected to me. The divine race, the prophecy, this legacy—it was all tied to me, to my existence. And now, I had no choice but to confront it, no matter how terrifying or impossible it seemed.

This wasn't just a simple journey anymore. It had grown into something far bigger than I had ever imagined. And somehow, I had become a part of it all, whether I wanted to be or not. And whatever lay ahead, I knew one thing for certain: I was in the middle of something much larger than myself. Something that had been set in motion long before I even arrived, and something that would change everything.