The weight of fate is not in its certainty but in its indifference.
Unlucky Apprentices
The notifications started pouring in like a torrential downpour, my phone buzzing relentlessly on the table. I glanced at it with a groan, half-expecting a flood of memes of me making mages kneel.
But this time, the screen showed something different: a collection of short, shaky videos all tagged with #HuelessKingSupremacy and #HuelessArmy.
"Do you ever get a break?" Rolo teased, leaning over my shoulder to see what was happening. He was amused, his eyes twinkling as he watched me scroll through the latest set of notifications.
I let out an exasperated sigh, taking a sip of my cocoa as the first video played.
It showed two apprentices from Belizár's coven attempting to cross the street. The crowd around them seemed to part like the sea before a storm, only for it to be replaced by the rush of my fans charging forward. Shouts of "For the King!" and "Justice for the Hueless King!" rang out as the apprentices stumbled, their faces twisted with a mix of shock and fear. Someone hit one of them, sending him sprawling into the side of a market stall, jars of spices shattering around him.
The next clip was even worse: an apprentice had been cornered in an alley by a group of fans, their faces gleaming with fanatic determination. One fan shoved him against the wall, yelling, "You think you're safe after what you did? Think again." The apprentice's eyes were wide, and I could see the tightness in his shoulders as he tried to fight back, fists swinging uselessly as the crowd swarmed him. The footage ended as the group scattered, leaving behind only the fainted and clearly beat-up figure of their target.
"Ouch," I commented.
The latest video was a sight to behold: an apprentice from Belizár's coven was being chased down the street, a group of vampires hot on his heels. They were usually elegant creatures, graceful even in their frenzy, but these had fangs bared and eyes wild, their sharp claws swiping through the air like they were trying to catch something elusive.
"For the Hueless King!" someone screamed in the background, and I had to stifle a laugh as the apprentice tripped, sprawling onto the cobblestones.
I flipped through the next video, which was equally ridiculous but effective. A group of my fans—half a dozen mages wielding fire and lightning—had surrounded an apprentice trying to make his way to a market. The mages threw up a ring of magical barriers, blocking the poor guy in. A mage with neon-blue hair and a lopsided grin cackled as he sent a small, controlled bolt of lightning arcing toward the apprentice's feet.
"You dare to inconvenience the Hueless King and you are dead meat," he shouted, and the apprentice's squeal was almost musical as he jumped, landing in a heap before scrambling to get away.
I scrolled through more of the notifications, each one flashing a new clip of chaos. It was starting to feel like an underground sport, and the apprentices were the unwilling competitors.
The scene shifted to a quieter, but no less chaotic, scene in a crowded market. A young mage waved her wand and called out, "Benevolent warning! The mighty apprentice of Belizár will pay for his master's sins!" A burst of glittering purple light enveloped the unfortunate apprentice, who started dancing uncontrollably. Passersby paused, stared, then began to clap and cheer, as if they'd stumbled upon the most amusing street performance.
I watched it all with a twisted sense of satisfaction. Rolo's eyes widened as he watched the stream of videos play out.
"Are… are these really happening?" he asked, his voice trailing off, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
I glanced at him, the corner of my lips twitching upward. "Looks like it," I said, trying to keep my voice casual as I leaned back, taking another sip of cocoa. The rich, warm drink was a rare comfort amid this madness.
He leaned over, eyes flicking back to the screen where another video was loading. It showed a poor apprentice trying to take shelter under the awning of a fruit stand as a pair of shapeshifters, one with fur the color of the night sky and the other with eyes like smoldering embers, loomed over him. The one with dark fur whispered something in a low voice—too low to hear, but the apprentice's face paled, and he shrank back, hands raised to defend himself.
"Do they know what they're doing?" he muttered, more to himself than to me, eyes locked on the screen. "This has to be organized."
I smirked, the twisted satisfaction surging inside me. "Maybe, but it's doing the job." I turned to him, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge him. "You think The Time Mage's feeling the heat yet?"
Rolo blinked, then snorted, the sound sharp and disbelieving. "Heat? Shay, I think she's currently drowning in an inferno."
The next clip that loaded made me pause for a moment. It was a slow-motion shot from the top of a tall building, showing a group of my fans—including a werewolf with a mohawk and a vampire in a crimson dress—charging down at the apprentice below, who had clearly lost all composure. His voice crackled in the footage as he shouted an incantation that failed to stop the onslaught. One fan leaped forward, sending him sprawling as a chorus of shouts rose in the background.
"Shay, I don't think the Time Mage will have so many apprentices much longer," Rolo whispered, staring at the screen with a mix of disbelief and unease.
I leaned back, the corners of my mouth curling into a smile. "Good. It's about time she learned what happens when you mess with me."
Rolo pulled his eyes away from the screen, blinking as if waking from a trance. The last video had been a close-up of an apprentice's face, wide-eyed and panting, as a group of fans chanted their devotion from a circle around him. It had been so over the top, so completely absurd that it was impossible not to find the whole thing amusing.
The smile playing on my lips morphed into something a touch more serious. "Nevertheless, we're going to need more mines. How many do you think you can whip up in the next two weeks?"
Rolo's face brightened, and I could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. He was already running through possibilities, weighing his magical reserves, and mentally calculating the number of runes he could inscribe before he exhausted himself. His usual demeanor shifted to something more strategic.
"Depends on how much time I can spend on them, and how much of my energy I'm willing to part with," he said, tapping his index finger against his chin in mock contemplation. "If I push myself, I could probably create… maybe five mines."
"Five?" I repeated. "Make it ten."
Rolo crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the sofa, eyes narrowing as he studied the blueprints of the mine on the paper. "In less than two weeks, Shay?" he said, voice tinged with something that bordered on reluctance. "That's... ambitious."
I raised an eyebrow, trying to read him. "I know it's asking a lot, but we need all the firepower we can get before the battle."
He sighed, looking away as if contemplating the weight of my request, but there was a gleam in his eyes that gave away just how much he wanted this. He knew the value of his work, the difference it could make, but pride and practicality fought in him. "I could do it," he admitted, tone measured and careful, "but it'll push me close to my limits. And you know I'm not fond of that."
I leaned forward, my smile faint but knowing. "And if you did it, what would it take for you to commit?"
He looked back at me, lips quirking into a smirk that was almost playful. "You know I'm not going to just do it for free, right?"
I pulled my phone out and slid it across the table so it was just within reach. A soft glow illuminated the screen as a transfer notification blinked at him. Rolo's eyes flickered with intrigue. He let the silence stretch, a slow smile breaking across his face as he picked up the phone and glanced at the amount.
I narrowed my eyes at him, taking in the subtle smirk playing at the corner of his lips. I knew that look. It was the one he got when he was pretending to hold the high ground, all while silently hoping I'd step in and offer him what he wanted.
"You know, Shay," he said, with all the nonchalance he could muster, "you're far too generous for your own good."
I rolled my eyes and grabbed my phone, watching him with the kind of intensity that only came when I was serious. "Just get to work, silly."
Rolo stood my glance, pretending to consider my words, but I could see the way his fingers played with the edge of his sleeve, the slight tremble of anticipation in his hand. Finally, he let out a breath, as if he were accepting some sort of fate.
"All right," he said, letting his eyes meet mine. "I'll make it happen. But if you want ten, you're going to have to send a bit more."
My lips twitched and I tapped out another transfer. The notification chimed softly as it lit up the screen. Rolo's smirk returned as he checked his phone, sharper and brighter than before, and his eyes lit up like a winter night when it's hit by a sudden, unexpected star.
He sat up straight, the hint of exhaustion in his posture shifting into determination. "Now, that's more like it." He placed the phone back on the table, grabbing a pencil and tapping it on his notebook. "Ten mines, Shay. But when this is over, you're taking me out for food."
I chuckled, "Don't be so greedy, brat."
He was almost purring as he ran upstairs to his room.
(...)
The heavy oak door creaked as I pushed it open, revealing the dimly lit room where Alice lay. The air inside was stifling, carrying the faint metallic scent of sickness and old books. His frail form rested against a pile of pillows, and even in the gloom, I could see how pale he had become. Alice's once-vibrant features were now etched with exhaustion, his skin nearly translucent, stretched too thin over bones that seemed sharper than they should have been.
He looked up as I entered, his lips curving into the soft smile that seemed to carry more strength than his body ever could. "Shay," he rasped, voice as light as a feather. "You look terrible."
I let out a dry laugh, though it didn't reach my eyes. "That's rich, coming from you," I replied, stepping closer.
He chuckled weakly, the sound breaking off into a cough that wracked his thin frame. My hands curled into fists at my sides as I watched him struggle to catch his breath. This wasn't the first time I'd seen Alice like this. In every life, his flame snuffed out long before its time. I had tried to save him—Gods, I had tried—but the outcome was always the same.
Alice always died young.
Too early.
Even for a human.
"You shouldn't be here," he said after a moment, his voice steadier but no less quiet. "There are bigger battles for you to fight, Shay."
I shook my head and took a seat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle him. "And what kind of king would I be if I couldn't make time for my friends?"
Alice's smile softened, his eyes glimmering with an emotion I couldn't name. "A wise one. One who knows he can't prioritize friends above the world."
The words cut deeper than they should have. He didn't mean them as a reproach—I knew that—but they echoed truths I wasn't ready to face. I'd failed him too many times, and no amount of logic or resignation could make that failure easier to bear.
"Huh, you never change," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"As if I'd let you rot in here alone. I've just been busy cleaning up messes," I added with a little smile.
I moved to the chair by his bed, sitting down heavily. Up close, his condition was even more evident. The flush of vitality that once lit his face was gone, replaced by a pale, almost ghostly pallor. His life was leaking out of him, drop by drop, no matter how much he smiled or pretended otherwise.
Alice didn't know he was dying. He never knew—never lived long enough to learn. Each life, he died in some kind of accident, leaving no time for him to grasp what was happening. Now that I remembered, I realized something—something that made my chest tighten. I had succeeded. This time, I had saved Alice. Twice, in fact. Alice should have died two times in this lifetime already.
"It's not your fault, Shay. It never was."
"But it feels like it is," I remembered saying. "Every time, Alice. Every damn time."
I looked up at him, taking in the delicate lines of his face, the light in his eyes that hadn't yet dimmed despite the shadows creeping ever closer.
So why was he dying again?
The thought dug into me like a dagger, twisting with every breath. This wasn't supposed to happen. I had fought so hard to keep Alice alive. Hadn't I done enough?
Alice shifted slightly in the bed, breaking the silence. "You're staring," he teased, his voice soft, almost sleepy. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were worried about me."
"Nah," I sighed. "I just zoned out."
"You look exhausted," Alice added, tilting his head. "What's weighing on you this time?"
"Nothing I can't handle," I lied, leaning back in my chair. "I came to check on you. How are you feeling?"
Alice waved a hand dismissively, though the motion was shaky. "Oh, you know. Tired, mostly. The doctor keeps going on about rest and potions and all that, but I'd much rather get out of this bed. Maybe take a walk. But they've all turned into jailers."
I managed a thin smile. "Maybe they're right to keep you here. You're not exactly in fighting shape."
He rolled his eyes, though the movement seemed to sap what little energy he had. "I'm fine, Shay. It's just a passing thing. I'll be back on my feet soon enough."
I said nothing, my hands curling into fists in my lap.
"I'll hold you to that," I finally said, forcing a teasing note into my voice. "You'd better get better soon. We've got too much to do, and I can't have you slacking off."
Alice laughed softly, his expression lighting up with a spark of his usual humor. "Is that so? And here I thought you came to bring me soup and sympathy."
"You'd hate me if I did," I shot back, smirking despite myself. "Besides, I didn't think you were the type to wallow."
His grin widened, and for a moment, it was easy to pretend things were normal. That he wasn't so pale, that the shadows of his illness weren't lurking just beneath the surface. He leaned back against the pillows, his eyes closing briefly, and I let myself watch him in silence.
He didn't know. Couldn't know. And maybe that was for the best.
I stayed with him for hours, listening to his stories, his laughter, and the silences that stretched in between. Every moment felt like a treasure, even as the weight of the past pressed down on me.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as my eyes flicked over his pale face. I should say something. Anything. But how could I explain what even I didn't understand?
"Get some rest," I said instead, my tone softer now. "You need it."
"Rest is all they let me do," he muttered, but his eyes were already closing. "You'll still be here when I wake up, right?"
I hesitated. In the quiet that followed, my gaze drifted to his frail frame, my mind racing.
"I'll be here," I said finally, though my voice was barely above a whisper.
As his breathing evened out, I leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. The question gnawed at me, refusing to let go. Why now? What had gone wrong?
In my mind, I went over every detail of this life, every step I'd taken to save Alice. Yet here I was, watching him slip away all over again.
Unless…
My hands tightened into fists as a chilling possibility crept into my thoughts. What if fate was fighting back? What if saving Alice had only delayed the inevitable?
I swallowed hard, forcing the thought away. No. I wasn't going to accept that.
I stared at Alice's frail form, my mind racing. His chest rose and fell in a shallow rhythm, the sound far too soft for my liking. I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms.
I raised my hand to my mouth and bit down hard on my fingertip. The sharp tang of blood filled my mouth as I broke the skin, and a drop of dark, viscous crimson welled up, shimmering faintly in the dim light.
I reached out, grabbing Alice's cold, limp hand in mine. Carefully, I massaged the blood into his palm, working it into the pale skin with trembling fingers.
The warmth from my blood seemed to seep into him, spreading slowly. His hand, so cold moments ago, began to feel just the slightest bit warmer beneath my touch.