The Prophecy That Wasn't (And Other Administrative Errors)

Three days into her “non-traditional hero training,” Mia was beginning to understand why most chosen ones had nervous breakdowns halfway through their quests. It wasn’t the magic or the danger—those were thrilling. No, it was the paperwork.

“So let me get this straight,” she said, squinting at the scroll Elena had unrolled across the tavern table. “There’s an actual bureaucracy for chosen heroes?”

“The Prophecy Guild,” Elena confirmed. “They record all prophecies, maintain the official registry of chosen heroes, and track every world-saving action with painstaking detail.”

Mia scanned the form in front of her. ‘Hero Registration Form, Version 847. Itemize all magical items, any special skills or training, and provide three references from previous world-saving efforts.’ She looked up. “Previous efforts? This is my first apocalypse!”

“I know, sweetie. That’s why we have a problem.”

Kael leaned forward, examining the document. “What kind of problem?”

Elena sighed. “The Guild has no official prophecy about you.”

“No prophecy?” Mia echoed, incredulous. “You’re always speaking of the chosen hero and ancient legend. That was just… marketing?”

“Not exactly marketing,” Theron muttered, fidgeting. “More like… hopeful interpretation?”

Elena unfurled a larger, yellowed scroll, spidery writing curling across the page. “This is the original Prophecy of the Jeweled Blade, translated from Ancient Eldorian: ‘When shadow falls across the land, one shall come who is not of this realm to wield the blade of stars and restore the light.’”

Mia blinked. “That’s… totally ambiguous.”

“Prophecies tend to be,” Elena conceded. “The Guild interpreted ‘not of this realm’ to mean someone of divine stock or blessed lineage. They expected a traditional, mystical hero.”

“Instead, they got me—stepping through my floor after stepping on leftover pizza.”

“And technically, without a prophecy, you can’t be officially listed as the chosen hero,” Elena added.

Kael frowned. “But the sword chose her. That counts for something.”

“It does,” Elena said. “But the Guild would call you a ‘freelance hero,’ not a ‘prophetically ordained chosen one.’”

Mia rubbed her temples. “Does it matter? The Shadow Sorceress cares about my paperwork?”

“Well, no,” Elena said. “But without official registration, no Guild resources—no maps of magical locations, no lists of artifacts, no database of enemy weaknesses.”

Theron’s voice turned grim. “And no official aid from other kingdoms or guardian orders if you need backup.”

Mia stared at the papers. “So I’m supposed to save the world, but I’m not allowed to ask for help because of paperwork?”

“I’m afraid so,” Elena admitted.

“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. And I once had to explain to my boss why our email system couldn’t send messages to people who didn’t exist.”

Elena’s eyes brightened. “Actually… what if we issue a prophecy?”

“Can you do that?” Mia asked.

“I’m Oracle-certified,” Elena said, producing a fresh scroll. “I just need to phrase it correctly so it’s retroactive.”

Mia watched as Elena wrote with flourish: “Behold, it has been foretold that one would come from the world beyond worlds, who knew of metal boxes and black, bitter beverages, to wield the sword of starlight against the spreading shadows.”

“That’s… honestly not bad,” Kael admitted.

Elena continued: “She shall be known not by strength of arm, but strength of spirit, and her greatest weapon shall be the power to see solutions where others see only problems. In her hands, the ancient blade will sing new songs, and through her unconventional wisdom, the shadow will be chased from the land.”

“Are you winging it?” Mia asked.

“The most profound prophecies are seventy percent improv,” Elena said airily.

She handed the finished scroll to Mia. “There. One official prophecy, filed in triplicate.”

Mia read it, torn between admiration and disbelief. “This is either genius or the greatest bureaucratic forgery in history.”

“Why not both?” Elena shrugged.

Outside, a commotion drew their attention. A horseman, foamy and breathless, rode into the square. “News from the capital,” Theron muttered. “And it can’t be good.”

The messenger, pale and exhausted, dismounted. “I am sent to seek the Guardian Kael and the so-called chosen hero.”

“That would be us,” Kael said, stepping forward with Mia at his side.

The messenger blinked at Mia, clearly unprepared for a hero of her stature, but quickly handed Kael an official document. “From the Royal Council. Urgent.”

Kael broke the seal, scanning it quickly. His face darkened. “The Shadow Sorceress attacked the Academy of High Magic three days ago. The Archmage and most professors are missing, presumed kidnapped.”

“That’s… awful,” Elena said softly.

“And she’s stolen the Codex of Binding,” Kael continued. “If she destroys it, she can never be bound again.”

Mia shivered. “How long do we have?”

“Seven days,” said the messenger. “After that, mortal magic will be insufficient.”

Kael’s brow furrowed. “The Royal Council demands all available guardians and heroes assemble, but…” The messenger hesitated. “The last group of chosen heroes went into her fortress three days ago. None returned.”

A heavy silence fell. Mia looked at the villagers—Theron’s stern jaw, Elena’s worried eyes, Kael’s tension. And then at herself. She’d been a hero for one week.

“Right,” she said, voice steady. “I guess my training just got accelerated.”

Elena placed a hand on her shoulder. “Mia, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do.” She turned to the messenger. “How long to the capital?”

“Two days, if you push hard.”

“Then we leave within the hour.” She faced Elena. “Your new prophecy ready to be sent?”

Elena grinned. “Fastest prophetic word in Guild history.”

As the village scrambled to prepare them, Kael fell in step beside Mia. “Are you certain? We could spend more time training, finding allies.”

“The Shadow Sorceress won’t wait,” Mia said. “And unpredictability is my strength. What’s more unpredictable than a hero with less than seven days’ training facing an ancient evil?”

“That’s either wildly brave or totally insane.”

“Why not both?” Mia grinned, adopting Elena’s confident stance. “At this point, I’m pretty sure they’re the same.”

An hour later, she was mounted on a patient horse, her belongings packed into saddlebags, the Jeweled Blade at her hip. Elena handed her the scroll case containing her official prophecy, sealed and ready.

“Remember,” Elena shouted as they rode out, “heroism isn’t about perfection. It’s about doing what needs to be done, even when you’re afraid!”

“What if I mess up?” Mia asked, sudden doubt creeping in.

“Then you improvise,” Theron said firmly. “That’s what you do.”

With final waves, promises to return, and hearts pounding with anticipation, Mia and Kael departed Willowbrook. The Jeweled Blade pulsed against her hip. For better or worse, their journey had begun.