Kain's mind raced as the figure's words lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating. He had never believed in destiny—not truly. He had always believed that he could forge his own path, that his choices, his actions, were the only things that mattered. But now, standing before this mysterious figure who seemed to know everything about him, the ground seemed to slip out from under his feet.
"You are part of the Luck now," the figure had said. The words repeated in Kain's head like an endless echo. But what did that really mean? Could he ever escape it? Or was he bound forever to a force beyond his understanding?
The figure's presence was overwhelming, like a storm about to break. Kain couldn't shake the feeling that he was standing at the edge of something far more dangerous than anything he had faced before. The Luck, the very thing that had once promised him freedom, had become his greatest enemy. And now, it seemed, the forces that governed it were turning against him.
"I don't understand," Kain said, his voice hoarse, the weight of the situation sinking in. "If I'm a part of the Luck, then why can't I control it? Why is it controlling me?"
The figure tilted their head slightly, as though considering Kain's words with an almost otherworldly patience. "Control, Kain, is an illusion," they replied softly. "The Luck is not something to be controlled. It is the foundation of all possibility, the core from which all things spring. You cannot control it any more than you can control the wind or the ocean. The Luck will bend to no one."
Kain clenched his fists at his sides, frustration bubbling within him. "Then why am I the one who freed it?" he demanded. "Why was it me who unlocked it? If it's so powerful, why didn't it just break free on its own?"
The figure's eyes gleamed as though they could see straight through Kain's soul. "Because you are different, Kain," they said, their voice a whisper of something ancient and haunting. "You are a thread woven into the very fabric of the Luck. You are not merely a victim of its whims—you are its chosen. You were never meant to be free. You are its catalyst."
Kain recoiled at the words. Chosen? The very idea filled him with a deep, gnawing dread. He had never asked for this. He had never wanted to be anyone's instrument, anyone's pawn. He had only wanted to survive, to escape the cycle of fate that had been thrust upon him. And now it seemed that the Luck had chosen him to play a far larger role in its chaotic tapestry.
"Chosen?" Kain's voice was tinged with disbelief. "For what? To serve the Luck? To be its puppet?"
The figure's face remained shadowed, their expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something—perhaps sympathy or understanding—beneath their calm demeanor. "No. Not a puppet. But a key," they said slowly. "You are the key to unraveling the threads of fate. You may not understand it yet, but the Luck has plans for you, Kain. And whether you like it or not, you are already bound to it."
Kain took a step back, the weight of the figure's words threatening to crush him. He had always thought of himself as a free agent, capable of forging his own destiny. But now, he saw with terrifying clarity that his fate had already been written. The Luck had chosen him, not for his strength, not for his will, but because he was something the Weave needed—a catalyst for change.
"I won't be anyone's puppet," Kain muttered under his breath, his resolve hardening. "I'll find a way to break free."
The figure's smile was barely perceptible, but it carried a note of warning. "There is no escape, Kain. Not from the Luck. Not from the Weave. The moment you unleashed it, you bound yourself to it. Now, you must face the consequences."
Kain's grip on his sword tightened. He had come so far. He had defied the Weaver, broken the chains of fate that had sought to bind him. But now, standing before this figure, he realized just how small his understanding of the world truly was. He had unleashed a force far greater than anything he could comprehend. And now, it was shaping the world in ways he couldn't control.
"So what now?" Kain asked, his voice quiet but firm. "What do you want from me?"
The figure's expression softened, a trace of something almost like pity crossing their face. "I do not want anything from you, Kain," they said. "But the Luck does. And you will find yourself caught in its web. Those who understand its true nature will come for you. They will test you. They will challenge you. And when the time comes, you will either bend to the Luck or be consumed by it."
Kain's chest tightened with dread, but he refused to show weakness. "And if I fight it? If I refuse to bow down to this... force?"
The figure's eyes darkened, and for a moment, Kain thought he saw something cold, something ruthless. "Then you will be swept away by the tide," they replied. "The Luck cannot be resisted, Kain. It is the source of all possibilities, the foundation of all fate. You cannot escape it. No one can."
The figure turned, their cloak swirling as they began to walk away. "But there is one hope for you," they said over their shoulder. "Find the others. Seek those who know the Luck. They are the only ones who can help you understand it. They may be your only chance."
Kain stood frozen for a long moment, his heart pounding in his chest. The weight of the figure's words crushed him, but there was something else, too—something that drove him forward. He couldn't let this happen. He couldn't let the Luck consume him, shape him into something he wasn't. There had to be a way to escape its grasp.
The figure's parting words echoed in his mind: Find the others.
But where were they? Who were they? What could they possibly know that he didn't? Kain had no answers, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn't stand still, couldn't let the world collapse around him without fighting for a way out.
As he turned away from the ruins of the temple and the figure who had delivered the chilling prophecy, Kain felt a fire ignite within him. The road ahead would not be easy. The Luck was a force he didn't yet understand, and it was more powerful than anything he had ever faced.
But he would not be passive. He would not allow himself to be consumed by the Luck.
He would fight.
He would find the others.
And together, they would challenge the threads of fate itself.
---
End of Chapter Seventeen.