The Fated Fabricator

The darkness of my cell was stifling, almost palpable in its bleakness. I sat slumped against the cold stone wall, devoid of hope.

From beyond the prison, an eerie cry – I don't know if it was a wolf or some other beast – echoed off the walls. The only light came from a flickering torch outside the bars, casting dancing shadows inside my confinement. It had only been hours since the hearing with the Queen, but it felt like another lifetime.

I pictured my village, with its vibrant dwellings nestled harmoniously with nature. I longed for the warm bustle of the marketplace, the hearty laughter at Orym's inn. Had it only been a few days since I was there? The time seemed to stretch on endlessly.

Most of all, I missed my mother. Her comforting embrace, her gentle wisdom, the feeling of safety I always found with her. My weary mind transported me to quiet evenings back home, her soothing voice lulling me to sleep after a difficult day.

"Stay strong, my son. You have the power to face anything," she would often say, I still remember her warm and reassuring voice.

But now, those comforting memories were tinged with worry.

How was she over there, after what had happened to me?

She'd been unbreakable after my father's passing, even while caring for my grandpa, but how was she handling everything now?

Was this adding to her pain? Would it slowly break her?

Her strength had always been my beacon, but now, that guiding light felt dimmed by a haunting question, leaving me even more lost and alone.

"How very touching," a chilling voice suddenly pierced the silence.

My head jerked up. Before me stood Queen Seraphina, regarding me curiously with her piercing blue eyes.

"Y-your Majesty?" I stammered. "Why are you here?"

She tilted her head, her eyes never leaving mine. "Pining for your mother won't change your fate, will it?" she said, her voice dripping with disdain.

I blinked, taken aback. "How do you know about that?"

Her smile was cold, her tone dripping with feigned concern. "How you missed her so... dearly."

A chill ran down my spine. "You're spying on me?"

"Oh, but I know so much more than you realize," she said, circling me as I sat frozen against the wall.

"I know you feel lost, questioning your purpose, doubting yourself," Her eyes bore into me, cold and calculating. "You hide behind humor, masking your fear with self-mockery. It's pitiful, really. If you were truly strong, you wouldn't cling to those sentimental memories like a scared child. You'd face what's ahead. But instead, you're here, wallowing in your self-made prison."

Her words cut deep, echoing my own insecurities.

"Let's discuss what happened at the Mystic Peaks, shall we?" the Queen continued, her voice tinged with faux sympathy. "All those lost souls. Villagers vanishing without a trace. Come now," she paused, her face wearing a look of mock concern, "doesn't it seem rather...convenient that you were spared?"

"I was just lucky, Your Majesty. Nothing more. I don't know what you're implying," I countered, my voice firm despite the dread growing in my gut.

"Lucky? With that cat girl's help?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "Always attributing everything to chance. To luck. Have you never considered that it might have something to do with you?"

"With me?" I exclaimed, aghast at her accusation. "How could I possibly have anything to do with those disappearances?"

The Queen's eyes seemed to gleam, and she began to slowly pace around the room.

"Oh, I think you know exactly why. You, who wields a power unlike any other in this world." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, her eyes locked on mine. "You, who can shape reality with the stroke of a pen. You, who are destined for something more."

I felt a knot of unease in my stomach, her words stirring something deep within me. My mind raced, trying to piece together what she was implying.

"You're not just anyone, are you?" she continued, her voice filled with a strange mix of contempt and fascination. "You're something special. Something foretold."

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, a sense of dread building as she circled me like a predator stalking its prey. The room seemed to close in, the air growing thick with tension.

"You, the so-called..." she paused, her eyes narrowing, her voice dropping to a menacing hiss, "'Fated Fabricator.'"

The words struck me like a bolt of lightning, sending a shiver down my spine.

The Fated Fabricator?

A foggy memory surfaced, my conversation with Master Thoren about some prophecy.

Was it referring to me?

Was I meant to be... a hero?

"Hero?" The Queen suddenly scoffed, her lip curling in disgust. "You dare fancy yourself some kind of fabled hero? When all that has happened since your arrival is destruction and suffering?"

Her words were like a slap to my face, each syllable a stinging rebuke. My mind reeled, struggling to reconcile the image of a hero with the tragedies that seemed to follow in my wake.

Was she right?

Was I nothing but a harbinger of chaos?

"What are you saying?" I managed to choke out, a sinking feeling in my stomach. "How do you know these things?"

"Oh, but I know so much more than you realize," she said, a sly smile playing on her lips. Her words were too precise, too informed.

A chill ran down my spine as the realization crept in. 

Was she...reading my mind?

"Yes. Your thoughts are an open book for me," she finally revealed, confirming my fears. "And from what I've seen, you are a danger to this world."

"I didn't ask for this! I didn't want any of this!" I pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please, Your Majesty, you must believe me. I would never intentionally harm anyone."

She regarded me coldly, her eyes hardening like stone. "I cannot allow you to bring more ruin here. For the good of Eiralia, you must be erased."

Erased...?!

The word "erased" hung heavy in the air.

A death sentence.

I stammered out one last desperate plea, "Please, don't do this. I swear I'm innocent. I can prove it, just give me a chance—"

The Queen's eyes flashed with unbridled fury, her composure finally cracking. "You've wasted my patience for the last time," she hissed.

Dark tendrils of energy began swirling around her hands, and the temperature in the cell dropped sharply. Before I could react, she thrust her palm towards me, shadowy magic erupting forth.

I cried out, barely rolling aside as the deadly blast scorched the stone wall behind me. The Queen strode forward, murder etched on her face. Her hands reached for my throat, magic once again crackling at her fingertips, ready to extinguish my life in an instant. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the end.

BOOOM!!!

Suddenly, a deafening explosion rocked the tower, shooting plumes of dust and debris into the cell. The Queen cried out as a massive chunk of the ceiling collapsed directly onto her, pinning her to the ground. That gave me a chance to scramble to my feet, grabbing a shard of broken stone as a makeshift weapon. My mind raced, looking for an escape route, any way out of this deadly confrontation.

"You... How dare you..." 

Then, through the haze, a silhouette appeared in the crumbled doorway, backlit by flames from the corridor.

A familiar voice cried out urgently, "Nanang!"

"Pu-Putri?!" I stammered in disbelief.

There she stood, amidst the chaos.  Her soft, auburn hair cascaded down her shoulders, contrasting the harsh, fiery backdrop. Those eyes, typically warm and gentle, now shimmered with bravery. Even in this tumult, her presence was captivating, a delicate yet resilient force that left me in awe.

Guess that made me... the damsel in distress, saved by my prince charming?