The Prophecy

The canopy erupted with chirping as the tree frogs noticed unscheduled off-tree activity in the sky. They fell silent the moment they saw what it was.

"Look! In the skies! To the east!" a kad shouted, and over a hundred heads turned toward the rising sun.

Out of the glare emerged the silhouette of a tiny kad, carrying dozens more linked hand to tail, forming a great V in the sky. Each chain of kads clung to one of her tails.

Maizy glided down and landed in the middle of the courtyard, the others hanging on until the very last moment before letting go.

"DING!"

"You got another title!?  You've only been out of the pouch for six days! SIX!" Mom, clinging to Maizy's left side, blurted in disbelief.

"I saw her title sheet this morning. So that makes what—six now?" the Woodmaster, hanging on her right, replied. "Impressive!"

Then another "DING!" could be heard a short distance away. The whole family turned to look.

"GROVE!" the Woodmaster boomed. "Come here, my young apprentice!"

Grove jumped. "Yes, Master!" He ran over and bowed.

The Woodmaster reached down to pet his head.

Grove bit him.

"OH, I AM SO SORRY, MASTER!"

The Woodmaster burst out laughing. Loudly. So loudly that the entire courtyard fell silent and stared—because the Woodmaster almost never laughed, let alone in public. He was in such a good mood, he decided to make an announcement.

"Gather round, everyone! My young apprentice, Grove, just received a title! He only emerged about sixty days ago!" the Woodmaster announced.

"That's incredible!" someone shouted.

What about my titles?  Maizy squinted at her brother.

Grove—who had no idea what the Woodmaster was talking about—just smiled. Then he noticed Maizy watching and beamed. He'd been praised in front of her! He scooched a little closer.

The Woodmaster summoned a huge, thin, paper-white wall out of the tree, the title spell already written on both sides. It was large enough for anyone nearby to read.

"Grove, that 'ding' sound you heard means the gods have granted you a title!" He smiled warmly. "Titles boost your magic's efficiency—and if you collect enough, you may even be granted divine boons."

So that's why my memory tail doesn't tire me out anymore...  Maizy realized.

The Woodmaster pointed at the wall he had summoned. "I've written the title spell onto this board. Place your hand on it and push a tiny amount of magic in." He gestured at Grove, who walked up, placed his hand on the board, and watched his titles appear—though they were very small; scroll-sized. The Woodmaster looked disappointed, and Maizy immediately understood why.

The Woodmaster pointed at the wall. "I've written the title spell here. Place your hand on it and push a little magic in."

Grove obeyed, and tiny, scroll-sized titles appeared. The Woodmaster frowned, and Maizy immediately understood why.

Oh! I can fix that!

"Pencil, please. I make it bigger," she signed.

The Woodmaster was happy to oblige—a sliver of wood shot from of the tree into her hand, forming a pencil.

Maizy drew the embiggen symbol beside the title symbol and gestured at Grove. "Try again."

He did, and the title table expanded to fill the entire wall. The crowd gasped as Grove's new title appeared, clear even from a distance.

| Kad of Prophecy

What the heck? Is it because of his carving in the Post Office?

"There's no description!?" The Woodmaster was perplexed—but still proud of his apprentice. "Well, Grove, congratulations on earning your first title! It's quite mysterious—and cool, actually!" He gave Grove a thumbs-up.

"Thank you, Master!" Grove was beaming, though he still didn't quite understand what was going on.

Then the Woodmaster looked at Grove with a sinister grin and said, "Now you can do even more work—and more efficiently."

Grove involuntarily shuddered as his broad smile quickly morphed into a grimace.

Then a sketchy-looking kad in the crowd shouted, "What about Maizy's titles? I heard a ding for her too!"

Oh no! I know that voice! That's WHAT!  Maizy’s eyes went wide, and she shook her head frantically at her brother.

Before he could respond, the Postmaster strode up to the board and spoke as loudly as her monotone allowed: "I have an announcement to make!"

Thank you, Postmaster!  Maizy thought she was saved.  Poor Grove shouldn't have his thunder stolen so quickly.

She walked up to Maizy. "Maizy, climb on my back for a moment—get as high as you can."

Maizy wasn’t sure why, but Okay.  She nodded and scrambled up the Postmaster’s emerald poncho.

Mom stood close, looking... nervous. She shook her head slowly at the Postmaster, hissing little shushing sounds.

The Postmaster cleared her throat and addressed the crowd. "Two days ago, many of you may have briefly become... unresponsive. Or noticed this happening to friends, family, or colleagues."

The crowd stirred uneasily. One kad shouted, "My sister suddenly froze up!" Another cried, "My dad almost fell out of the tree!"

"Yes, well... there was a very good reason for that!" The Postmaster raised her voice, silencing the crowd. "Nearly the entire village was cursed!"

The crowd gasped. Shouts of "WHAT!?" and "HOW?" echoed across the courtyard.

"It was a deadly memory curse—it was contagious!  Even if you realized you were cursed, it would immediately make you forget." The Postmaster grinned—she loved getting a crowd worked up like this. This was her jam!

Then she delivered the final blow. "HOWEVER! Thanks to the bravery of MAIZY DEBUGGER, the curse was destroyed! When you all froze—that was Maizy ending it. SHE SAVED THE VILLAGE!"

The crowd went silent, then erupted in cheers.

Mom looked horrified and shot the Woodmaster a very sharp glare.

"Let's see her titles!" shouted the sketchy kad.

Oh no! If WHAT wants everyone to see my titles, this can't be good!

"INDEED!" shouted the Postmaster. She seized Maizy's hand and pressed it to the title wall. Maizy didn’t push any magic in—but somehow, the Postmaster forced magic through her, straight into the spell.

The titles appeared on the wall, big and bold for all to see.

| God Slayer | Beat WHAT at his own game. That counts!
| Soul Smuggler | Brought someone back to life. Seriously, how'd you do that?
| Curse Gobbler | That couldn't have tasted good.
| Scribblemaster | It took over 250,000 wobbles but the final magic symbol has been discovered. Great job. Give your hand a rest.
| Divine Debugger | Found a bug in the multiverse. The print symbol wasn't meant to do that. Secure that scroll—it's now a collector's item. The bug has been fixed.
| Yay Big V | The lamest prophecy ever!

That new title was definitely authored by WHAT.  Maizy weighed the implications—it didn’t seem that bad.  At least my magic will be a little more efficient.  She hopped down from the Postmaster’s back.

The Postmaster froze. "That’s... a lot more titles than last time." She turned to Bloom.

It was the first time Mom had seen the Scribblemaster and Divine Debugger titles. "GODS! Where’s that scroll right now?"

"No worries, Mom. Pathy has it." The Woodmaster gave a thumbs-up.

Mom relaxed—slightly. And then the crowd erupted.

"SIX TITLES!"

"HOW OLD IS SHE? SHE LOOKS LIKE SHE JUST EMERGED!"

"SHE DISCOVERED THE LAST MAGIC SYMBOL!?  HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE? THAT'S NOT POSSIBLE!"

"MY HAND STILL HURTS FROM THE LAST TIME I TRIED TO FIND ONE!"

"SHE KILLED WHAT!?  GOOD FOR HER!"

The kad who shouted the last statement suddenly found themselves flung off the tree.

"THAT JERK IS HERE!" shouted another kad.

Mom's eyes glowed orange as she scanned the crowd. A moment later, the sketchy kad was mysteriously flung off the tree.

"He's gone now," the Proscribrarian announced. Nobody was sure how she could tell, but she was a Proscribrarian, so they just accepted it.

The Woodmaster, still in a radiant mood, looked at his mom and beamed.
"You owe me four cookies."

--------------------------------------------

Mom and Maizy returned to the Proscribrary, where Maizy noticed the front door had already been repaired. It was propped open by a book still covered in bloodstains.

Not only was the door fixed, it looked stronger, somehow. She tried to get a good look as they went inside, but all she could see was fresh, glossy red paint.

Inside, Pathy sat reading The Strangest Worlds to Path—his head poking out of her pouch. "Oh good, you're back!" she said. She glanced at Bloom—who looked very disheveled—and decided not to ask for an immediate debriefing.

Maizy hopped out of Mom's pouch and waved to Path, who waved back.

"Where's the scroll?" Mom asked, in a distinctly uncourteous tone.

"Secured," Pathy replied. "The swans came by to fix the door, and I gave it to them to put in the safe at the university." She thought it best to elaborate, "I wrapped it in a sealed package. I didn't tell them what it was."

Must be the swans who are experts in pocket dimensions.

Mom exhaled in relief. "Good. I want a nap."

"Of course!" Pathy smiled, happy to leave. She closed the book, gave Maizy a quick smile, and slipped out—leaving the door propped open.

Mom turned to Maizy with a stern look. "While I’m sleeping, you will be practicing your writing."

She stacked paper and pencils on the desk. "Fifty pages by the time I wake up. And if you finish early..."—her eyes narrowed—"switch hands and do it again."

Ugh! I know I have to do this but...

Maizy signed, "Why both?"

"Because you're a Debugger! That's why!" She then gave a sinister grin. "And once you're decent with your hands, we'll be practicing writing with your feet."

What!?

"THEN," she nearly shouted, "we’ll practice writing everything backwards! And that’s just the beginning of your training." She cleared her throat. "Er—education."

She softened, just a little. "There’s a reason for it, trust me.  I’m not just doing this to torture you. I can’t tell you why yet, but one day you’ll thank me. Just like I thanked my mom—your Grandma."

Maizy was skeptical. She signed, "You can write backwards with feet?"

Mom harrumphed, flopped onto her back, gripped two pencils with her toes, and wrote—simultaneously on two sheets of paper—"Yes I can. With perfect penmanship!" The left foot’s version was backwards.

Then she wrote the same sentence forwards and backwards with both feet in both directions—again, simultaneously.

Maizy's mouth dropped open.

"Now get to work." Mom paused, then added, "And if anyone dangerous shows up, protect the books!"

Maizy signed, "No problem. I end them," with such calm seriousness that Mom hesitated.

Am I raising a monster?  she wondered, then shook her head.  No—every child is a monster sometimes. Right?

She hopped up into the corkrest and went to sleep—trying not to think about it.