Chosen for What

Once upon a time, when humanity was still young, magic got born into the world. But with it’s wondrousness someone terrible and greedy appeared who tried to steal everything to keep it just for himself.

The grandest mage of all time, Astonius, one who still lived to this day, had risen to stop that folly from happening. To ensure the rest of the world still got to enjoy magical and wondrous things.

But the weaving of the world had gotten damaged in the ensuing battle and as a result, Fate was forever changed. Terrible evil was destined to rise - as were grand heroes.

„We are the ones to guide those heroes,“ Annette’s father said when she was old enough to truly understand the meaning of his words. „Fate takes us whenever it is time to meet a Chosen One and we hand them what they require for the task ahead. Encouraging words, a weapon, at times even healing. We accompany them on their journey so they can ensure evil always fails.“

„Am I like that, Papa? Do I help heroes?“ Annette asked, excited and after a moment her father sighed and nodded.

„You must’ve inherited it from me. I had hoped you wouldn’t, because your life will never be truly yours, Annette. You must understand that. You...you belong to Fate, now and forever.“

„Is that why you leave so often?“ she asked, thinking of the months he was gone without a trace, vanishing between one moment and the next without a trace. He nodded again.

„You can’t say no and you can’t resist. Fate takes you where you ought to be, no matter if you want to or not, no matter if you are tired or not,“ he explained with a shadow of exhausted, worn grimness to his face.

Oh. That sounded rather unpleasant. Annette had no idea what to say, but she found herself reaching out, patting her father’s hand.

„You’re not alone now,“ she said while her father glanced at her. „I can help!“

Maybe then he’d have more time to be home, to be with her mother, to enjoy his life. His expression both softened and grew very sad. He reached out, pulling her into a hug and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

„Keep that good heart of yours,“ he whispered. „Promise me that.“

„Pinky promise,“ Annette said and lifted her hand, fingers curled in and only her pinky extended. Her father smiled and hooked his far bigger pinky around hers and they gently shook their hands up and down a little.

She had been eight back then and hadn’t truly understood her father’s sadness or why he was often so tired. Why he often came back slightly stooped, as though he was carrying a heavy yoke across his shoulders, his gaze far away.

But as Annette grew up she learned that being bound to Fate was not a kind destiny, nor was it particularly fun. By the time she reached her thirties she had seen more of the world and of humanity than most people ought to. She had fully stepped into her father’s footsteps by then, guiding and aiding heroes.

Very few ever survived the journey and those who did were scarred for the rest of their lives, inside and out. Those who survived retreated into themselves, shutting themselves away, their hearts and minds too wounded for the rest of the world.

She understood now why her father came home silent and grim, moving like he wanted to lie down and never get up again. She felt like that heaviness herself now, her childhood cheer faded and nearly gone.

Great evil came and great heroes rose to fight it, protecting all that was good and bright and they usually died in the process. She had lost far too many friends that way, having accompanied the Chosen Ones on their journeys whenever Fate required it.

It had been impossible not to grow fond of them, not to love them all in their own special ways. To not feel at home with them and their other friends, who had all considered her one of them sooner or later.

Annette wasn’t destined to die, because who would serve Fate if she did? As far as she knew her father’s bloodline was the only one who produced people like her and if they died, heroes would have a far harder time on their journeys.

So she would survive the confrontations with evil every time. But no matter how hard she fought, how good she became at the art of battle, somehow she was never there to actually protect the people she had grown to love.

In the end she was the only one left to carry remains back home or in some cases, carry nothing, because not even a shred of her precious friends had been left behind.

Worst of all were the times when she had accompanied young heroes, almost children still, who had been chosen for a cruel future.

A number of them had no families left so she was the only one who knew about the graveyard she had started to dig for her fallen heroes and their heroic friends. Her heroic friends, too.

She carefully took care of the graves near her isolated home, cleaning away dead leaves and planting new flowers. She didn’t want to forget them and she wished the world would do more to remember them.

There was a dedicated Heroes Day, where celebrations were held across the lands, but she couldn’t stomach to join those festivities. It felt as though her friends‘ deaths were lauded as something admirable and good.

She hated Fate, even though she knew it was useless to do so. The weave of the world was damaged and this was simply how things were meant to be, a constant reenactment of times past. She even suspected it was the only way magic could still reliably exist in this world, through meaningful sacrifice and grand, noble acts.

And no matter how hard she fought the pull of Fate, sooner or later she always stood in front of the next hero, wondering if she’d carry their lifeless body back home this time as well.

Fate had been tugging at her insistently for a time again now, guiding her down roads and to her next destination. Annette was resigned to her lot in life, feeling a mixture of listlessness and bitterness, her heart braced for yet more hurt. No matter how she tried to keep herself apart from the heroes and their groups, sooner or later she always ended up liking them anyway. She always ended up cheering for them.

When Fate stopped tugging she ended up at the side of the road, near a large boulder on the top of a hill. The perfect place for someone heroic to meet her, a companion for their quest. Her other duty was to provide for the heroes whatever they needed. Fate had given her a bit of magic for such an act, allowing her to conjure magical weaponry and items and healing tonics.

But no matter how much she gave the heroes, somehow in the last, grand battle, it was never enough to save them.

She settled down on the boulder, staring across a picturesque landscape, little farms and their fields dotting the surroundings and a pretty town rising in the distance.

The sound of huffing and puffing and something dragging along the ground made her pause and look up.

Her brows rose in surprise when she saw a little girl stomping up the road, full of determination as she dragged a far too big, sheathed sword behind her with one hand. With the other she pushed up the too big knight’s helmet she had put on, one clearly meant for an adult. From the looks of it, she barely managed to carry it on her head.

„What are you doing?“ Annette found herself asking, utterly baffled.

„I’m going to fight for my Pa,“ the girl declared proudly, a little lisp to her words. „Do you know in which direction the Lich King is? I gotta kill him so my Pa doesn’t have to.“

Annette stared at the child and with a sudden, awful feeling in her gut, she wondered if the girl was meant to be the hero. Usually Fate didn’t pick Chosen Ones that young and ten seemed to be the bottom line.

„No,“ Annette said, fingertips digging into the stone of the boulder. „You can’t go face the Lich King, absolutely not.“

The girl frowned at her, briefly losing her grip on the helmet, which swiftly slumped down over her head the way a thimble covered fingertips. Annette slipped off the boulder and helped the girl right the helmet again, only to be pouted at with puffed up cheeks.

„I can so fight,“ the girl declared. „Because if I dont, then my Pa gotta and he’s already fought. He still has nightmares, so I have to make sure that he doesn’t have to be a hero again.“

That was the ugly reality of the few Chosen Ones that survived the evil they were meant to vanquish. If they were lucky enough to make it out alive they were not only scarred for life but also considered game for any future foes.

Fate really was a bitch.

At least the girl clearly wasn’t meant to be the hero of the story, she was too young and couldn’t even lift the sword enough to swing it. Annette would have to wait for her father to arrive to take her place instead.

„Well, if you don’t wanna help me, then good day. I guess,“ the girl said and turned to march onward, dragging the sword behind her and struggling to hold the helmet up.

„Fate decides who is Chosen,“ Annette found herself saying and the girl stopped and turned to look back at her, the helmet wobbling precariously in her grip. „You can’t undo that.“

The girl frowned, then lifted her chin. „So what? If we kill the evil first, then what does that matter?“

Annette felt herself still while the girl turned again and kept walking. Killing evil first. Annette had never thought to do so, mostly because by the time Fate was done guiding her she usually met the heroes in question within a minute or two.

She never knew who they were destined to fight, not until the heroes either told her or, if they didn’t know the identity of the evil they chased, until they found out together. But now...now Annette knew who the Chosen One was destined to face in battle and there was no hero in sight.

Aside from a brave little girl with a heart the size of the sun.

„Alright,“ she said and hopped off the boulder, the girl stopping and looking up with a hopeful grin. „I have a proposal and I need your help if you want to keep your Pa safe.“

„What is it?“ the girl asked eagerly. „I promise I can do it.“

„I need you to keep him at your home,“ Annette said. „Protect him from Fate, make sure he doesn’t leave on his quest. In the meantime, I’ll go kill the Lich King.“

The girl eyed her, frowning thoughtfully. „Can you fight?“ she asked and when Annette nodded, the girl heaved the sword up enough to hold it out to Annette, though the tip still dragged through the dirt. „Then you take it. It has killed evil before.“

Grasping the sword, Annette felt the hum of magic within the blade. She had gifted plenty of enchanted items to heroes in the past, but this one was not from her. It must’ve been from her father then.

Most magical items didn’t survive the battle against evil, but the few that did were highly sought after by the rest of the world, for they tended to be rather powerful.

„I got it,“ Annette said and nodded down the path. „Now go, before Fate takes your father from you.“

The girl nodded and Annette bit back a laugh when she hurriedly walk-jogged down the path, the helmet clearly too heavy and unwieldy to allow the girl to actually run.

Hoisting the sheathed blade across her shoulder, Annette turned to walk away. The Lich King, she actually had heard about this particular character, a legend building over years through whispers and rumors. A legend of great evil.

„Well then, Fate,“ she muttered to herself as she quickened her steps. „Let’s see who arrives first, the hero or I.“

There was a stirring in the air but to her surprise, nothing tried to stop her. Usually, when Fate guided her somewhere, it did so with a feeling of great urgency that grew in intensity until she couldn’t stand to ignore it any longer.

This time there was only her own determination driving her onward.

Huh. How strange.

*.*.*

The Lich King lived in a castle that was so obviously evil looking it was almost comical. He was also very, very confused about her appearance.

„You are not the Chosen One,“ he said, eyeing her and Annette shrugged.

„No, but it was either me or a little girl who was going to try and take the place of her hero father,“ she said and the Lich King grew unnaturally still, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

„They would have me fight a child, if the father didn’t show up in time?“ he downright growled the words before he laughed, sharp and bitter. „Of course, I am not evil enough yet, is that it?“

He spoke upwards towards the sky and Annette got the feeling that he wasn’t actually talking to her. Then he sighed.

„If the choice is you or terrorizing children, then go ahead,“ he said and tipped his head back, baring his throat. „With you I do not have to keep up appearances, Fate’s grip has released me for the moment.“

„Wait.“ Annette let the sword in her hand lower, the tip touching the dark stone floor. „You didn’t want to be evil?“

„I wanted to be a mage,“ the Lich King answered and downright spat out, „Not a monstrosity.“

All at once Annette realized something she hadn’t considered before. Not when she had watched beloved friends die over and over again, when she hadn’t been able to save anyone. If the heroes were Chosen, then so were the villains.

The same coin, two sides. A story repeating it self through the centuries over and over again, all across the world. In big and small tales. Someone always died and something was always saved. Someone also always had to be the forsaken one.

As though the entire world was one big stage and the people living on it were puppets on a string for Fate to pull and pluck, making them dance and fight and bow and live and die at its whim. All because one idiotic, greedy moron had damaged the weave of the world all that time ago.

Sighing, Annette rubbed a hand over her lower face, thinking. Nothing here was fair and aside from Fate, there were no winners. Only dead losers.

„Then let’s go,“ she said. „If Fate is currently silent, then let’s try to break it’s hold on you.“

She had stopped believing such a thing was actually possible years ago. With each buried friend, with each wound on her heart and soul, her optimism had slowly withered and decayed away. Crushed under the weight of reality.

But what if...what if there was a chance after all. A chance for true change.

Sheathing the sword she held out her hand. „Let’s try, just one more time.“

The Lich King stared at her hand, undead eyes and gray skin and filled with magic that would make the priests and priestesses of the temples weep and moan. Maybe there was a way to keep Fate away from him, to ensure he never had to hurt anyone else ever again. To maybe even make up for some of the hurt he had been forced to cause.

His next inhale shuddered in his chest and slowly he stepped forward, reaching out. „One last time,“ he whispered.

When their eyes met, his were filled with the same grim, withered hope that Annette felt stirring in her chest. Withered but not dead. It seemed hope truly was the last thing to die, like a weed that kept growing out of the cracks in roads and walls.

Annette took the Lich King’s hand and pulled him out of his castle. Once they were far enough away, they looked back just in time to see a lone hero traveling up the road, heading for the empty castle. Heading for a fight that would not take place.

„Huh,“ Annette whispered. „It seems Fate isn’t so invincible after all.“

Beside her, the Lich King was starting to weep, still clutching onto her hand and she let him, almost tasting his relief on her tongue as he cried like a child that had finally gotten found and led out of the dark.

*.*.*

The Lich King stayed with Annette, even when she returned the sword along with a note saying that the deed was done. The girl was home when she showed up and she threw her arms around Annette in a big hug, thanking her.

„Your Pa will be back soon,“ Annette promised, ruffling her hair. „So be sure to greet him with something nice, alright?“

The girl nodded and grabbed the sword to drag it inside. Looking at her, Annette could see the hero the girl would grow into in a couple of years. Fate would love that for sure, but if she had any say in the matter, then the girl would choose her own future, her own destiny.

If Annette managed to do what she planned to do now, there would be no more Chosen Ones, neither for evil nor for good.

The Lich King remained at her side as she left and she didn’t chase him away. He probably had nowhere else to go anyway. So she took him home and together they started to figure out what he was going to do with his life from here on out. How he might make up for past misdeeds enough to no longer be a villain.

It was strange, though, to have a roommate who didn’t ask twice when she felt the pull of Fate once more and who just followed her out the door. It was strange to have help in her endeavors, in fighting Fate.

This time the hero she met was of the very stubborn and prideful kind. In the end, the Lich King and she simply tied the fellow up and the Lich King threw him into a pocket dimension he could conjure with a stolen magic ring, while Annette went and sought out the villain of this particular tale.

She returned with a sentient tree, which really hadn’t been anywhere near her top ten guesses. The tree followed her home too, the Lich King eyeing it with quiet bafflement.

So now Annette had an undead king as a roommate and a tree stomping around her big yard, the tree’s creaking and groaning voice whispering through the air as it spoke with other plants. It certainly ensured her graveyard of dead friends nearby was no longer troubled with plants that choked out her carefully planted flowers.

The flowers themselves multiplied practically over night until the entire graveyard was covered in them, thickly and colorful and sweet smelling. Only the headstones were left poking out of the earth, marking where people had been laid to rest.

Annette liked the view quite a bit, it made her feel like her friends might find a bit more peace in the afterlife too. Or maybe they felt nothing, for they were dead, and she was the only one feeling better about everything.

Either way, the company was rather nice and somehow it didn’t stop there as she kept tripping up Fate left and right. Not every villain followed her home like a lost duckling and not every villain wanted to be saved either. Of those who did come with her only a handful ended up actually staying, the rest moving on, but she still ended up with a rather lively home.

There was now a cursed spirit, a scarred elf and, perhaps strangest of all, a blubbering pot. She really had no idea how the latter had even become a villain, but she also had to admit that she really didn’t understand its blubbering language either. The tree and Lich King had no such trouble, however, and often the three of them sat outside in the sun together.

There was an almost wary hope to the former villains, as though they couldn’t quite believe that their grim journey was truly over. That they were truly safe, that they truly had made it out of the dark.

But as the days and weeks ran together and they kept accompanying her on her trips to intercept heroes, they started to settle more and more. They started to plan for a future they had once considered forfeit.

And then, one day, a knock at her door made everyone pause. Fate had been strange recently, the urge within her, the one that made her go seek out heroes, starting up only to fizzle out again.

Opening the door, feeling a little wary about who would visit her home so far from other towns and villages, Annette paused. That was, without doubt, a hero before her. Scarred and grim faced and tense, but she would recognize a hero anywhere. She had fought side by side with and buried enough of their lot, after all. Had loved and lost enough of their lot.

„I don’t want to fight,“ the hero whispered. „And I heard...I heard you can make villains go away.“

„Come in,“ Annette said, stepping aside to let them in. „And tell me everything.“

A day later she left to go hunt down an insane count, who actually wasn’t all that insane – though not quite sane either. With his destiny broken, they followed Annette home, chattering all the while.

To her surprise the hero was still there and the count kept chattering until the awkward air was wrestled to death and something more amused took its place.

„Is it alright for all of us to stay?“ the hero murmured that evening, after Annette had offered to make them a palette near the fire so they could stay the night. „That’s a lot of destiny in one place.“

„Fate can kiss my ass,“ Annette said and the hero blinked in surprise. „If it doesn’t like what I’m doing, maybe it should change up the script every once in a while.“

She still dreamed of it, of a world without heroes and villains, without death and Chosen Ones and her life belonging to herself. About not having to drag herself through the sea of grief and pain again and again, helpless to do anything but keep walking the path she was on. For she didn’t belong to herself, she belonged to Fate.

Though, she was willing to bet that Fate wasn’t particularly happy about that fact these days.

So the hero stayed and soon other heroes showed up, hesitant and then more determined, asking her for help. Asking her for the chance to live without dooming the world to ruin in the same breath.

„How do you do it?“ the Lich King asked one morning after Annette had come back from her most recent trip, dropping another magical weapon onto the pile she kept in the closet. There was no need for these things to circulate around the world and cause trouble later.

„Do what?“ she asked and he gestured at everything around them, the gathered villains and heroes, at people who dropped by during the day even if they didn’t stay the night.

People who had found healing in each other, talking about the things Fate had forced them to do and had forced them to be. They had found a home here, in her home and with each other and she wasn’t going to ruin that for them.

Besides, after so many years of loss and exhaustion and grimness, it felt good to have people who...stayed. To build something lasting.

„You have seen the gravestones outside, haven’t you,“ she asked and the Lich King nodded. „Those were all my friends, once.“ She was silent for a long moment, staring ahead. She took a deep breath before she could make herself say, „I know how to keep going.“

Her voice had shaken only a little bit as grief folded its arms around her. Losing people didn’t get easier, but it was...familiar, almost.

It was worth fighting Fate for that alone, to one day no longer feel like grief and loss were familiar to her.

„Then let us walk with you,“ the Lich King said softly. „So we can all keep going together.“

She smiled to try and hide the way her lip trembled as she started to tear up. „Yeah, alright,“ she whispered, her voice breaking and a gentle hand landed on her shoulder, the Lich King offering silent support.

Annette leaned into the touch and they stood in silence for a moment, watching as the tree chased giggling children around, the heroes‘ offspring brought along because, apparently, there was no safer place for them to leave their children during the day than a sanctuary for everyone fleeing from Fate.

„Thank you,“ Annette said quietly and the Lich King gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

„No, thank you,“ he said quietly. „You saved us, now let us do the same for you.“

For the first time since her childhood, when she had promised her father to keep hold of her good heart, a promise she had almost broken more than once, she offered her pinky.

„Let’s look after each other,“ she said and the Lich King hooked their pinkies together, both of them smiling.

*.*.*

Fate was most certainly out of sorts about her actions, to the point where Annette met her father again. Fate had a habit of dragging them all over the world until they had only rarely seen each other. It must’ve been over a year since they had last crossed paths. Fate clearly was hoping that he might bring her back in line.

„What are you doing?“ he asked as he sat down beside her and his tone was almost flat. He looked old, Annette thought, startled at the exhausted and worn appearance of her father.

But...ultimately it wasn’t surprising, because she knew his hurts just like he likely knew hers. They had both loved heroes and lost them, had done everything they could to try and protect the special people Fate had led them to. To hold onto laughter and good times and wonderful companionship with desperate, failing hands.

„I guess I’m in my rebellious phase,“ she answered and he just closed his eyes, as though he didn’t even have the strength left to argue.

Annette looked at her father and wondered if her mother was the only reason he still got up in the morning. That he only managed to keep going because he had found his true love outside of the destiny Fate had saddled him with.

„Get some rest, Papa,“ she told him quietly. „It’s going to be alright.“

He didn’t answer, but when he got up to leave, he pulled her into a hug, whispering into her ear that he was proud of her, as though he didn’t want Fate to know.

Annette watched her father walk away and then she turned to watch the villains and heroes around her home, happy children underfoot. Even some pets had been brought into her home by now, ragged and healing and in need of a second chance as much as everyone else. And she began to turn things over in her mind.

Fate needed to be stopped for good. This couldn’t keep going on and even if it cost her all her Fate-gifted magic, she wanted to try and find a way. She’d rather become the most ordinary person in history, no longer able to pull awesome, magical item out of thin air, if it meant people got to choose their own destiny.

„What are you thinking?“ the count asked, plopping down beside her on the bench outside her home. „You look like someone who is planning something big.“

„Have you ever killed a concept?“ she asked and they paused, bobbing their head back and forth in thought, brows furrowed.

„Like what?“ they asked at last and Annette looked up at the sky.

„Fate,“ she answered and after a beat of silence, the count leaned forward until their eyes met.

„Want company?“ they asked and there was some of their old darkness in their gaze, some of their old violence wrapped around their voice, dripping off the words like oil waiting to catch flame.

„I would also offer my services,“ a hero said, causing both of them to jump in surprise and to look to the open door where she had poked her head out. „So no more people have to grow up thinking sacrifice is the purpose of their life.“

„Then let’s do our research,“ Annette said, pushing to her feet. „To find out what we can about Fate.“

That was easier said than done, of course, and it took Annette nearly a year until she finally found answers. Ironically, she found what she was looking for when she stumbled upon a battle between a hero and villain, taking place on an ancient battleground.

It was a place where some of the first fights between good and evil had ever been fought and here Fate’s pull was strongest. So strong that Annette almost couldn’t overcome its script. A script of sacrifice and death for the greater good.

In the process of getting the hero and villain away from Fate, the ground gave out beneath them and they all tumbled into a deep chasm.

Down there, once Annette had conjured some healing tonics to take care of broken bones and life threatening concussions, she found a mage’s sanctum. It had been abandoned a long, long time ago, most of the scripts on the walls faded or overgrown, but the bits she could still make out were rudimentary.

„The very beginnings of magic,“ the hero whispered, their hand trailing over the script. „This must belong to one of the first mages in history.“

More than that, it belonged to the first mage who had been born after magic had first appeared in the world. It was here, in an enchanted book, so it would survive the tooth of time, half diary and half a notebook on spells and awful, world-rending possibilities, that Annette found the truth.

There had once truly been a terrible evil and there had been grand goodness and a long battle that would see the weave of the world damaged. But it wasn’t because evil had gotten defeated that day.

No, when good laid dying at it’s feet and evil was similarly, mortally wounded, it had tied the shredded weave to itself. To sustain itself, to survive and to grow in power.

To one day be healed and powerful enough to take everything for itself, because this part of the legend was true, too. The terrible, greedy evil did want all it could to itself.

And it’s name was Astonius, the grandest mage of all time. The man still alive to this day, because magic had made him immortal. The man who pretended to be the good that had survived, while in truth the hero had died.

And Fate had been under his control ever since, forcing good and evil to keep dancing that same dance over and over. For them to destroy each other, so their life essences and their magic got poured into the weave and, in turn, into Astonius. So he could heal and one day take everything for himself.

Annette brought that knowledge home, along with her two new companions and she told the gathered heroes and villains everything.

„No one has ever managed to defeat Astonius,“ the Lich King murmured after a hefty moment of heavy silence. „He is far too powerful for anyone alive to defeat.“

„And he is still bound to the weave,“ Annette said. „Which means he hasn’t yet recovered from his wounds. If he truly is that powerful, why hasn’t he already started to take over the world?“

She straightened, tapping the map where Astonius’s home was. „You don’t have to come with me, because if you do it will mean you’ll have to fight once more.“

„One last time,“ the Lich King whispered and looked up at her, before he took a bracing breath and held out his hand to her. „Let’s try.“

She found herself grinning and reached back, clasping his hand and then more and more hands landed on theirs, as heroes and villains, gathered and united, got ready for one more battle. One last fight.

*.*.*

Astonius was a monster barely disguised as a human, a disguise he dropped the moment he realized they knew the truth.

He was awful. Annette realized that for all her years as a hero’s companion, she met true, genuine, relentless evil like that only twice before.

Other people had been awful yes and horrible and after ruining Fate’s plans, instead of saving a villain she had to slay them for they had no desire to stop. They had liked the path Fate had given them and they were of the firm believe that they could defeat any hero thrown their way.

Astonius was the type of man so black-hearted and wretched-souled he would have made a mother wear the skin of her children to festivals, making her dance in shoes forged out of their dreams, her neck decorated in pearls made out of all the years they would never get to live.

He fought like a monster too and Annette was more glad than ever for all the magical artifacts everyone had, gathered through years of fighting back against Fate. She conjured healing tonics whenever there she got a moment to breathe, allowing her friends to keep surviving. Astonius couldn’t stop her and her Fate-granted powers, because he couldn’t cut himself off from the weave, from Fate. And therefore he could not rob her off her powers either.

It was a long, harrowing fight, blood soaking them all when for just a moment, a heartbeat, everything aligned. Magical blades cutting through the weave attached to Astonius, shields and magical wards raised to deflect his magic. Her blade found Astonius’s neck the same second that the last strand of the weave got cut.

Alone none of them could have won. Even half of them would not have been enough, or if they had only been heroes or villains. But together, united, they were just, barely, enough.

Astonius died shrieking and gurgling and the strands of the weave devoured him whole, using all the stolen lives and power to repair itself until everything smoothed out, hale and whole once more for the first time in centuries.

Annette felt it when the magic faded from her veins, when Fate returned to what it was meant to be, a gentle bit of help, not a forceful hand at someone’s neck, steering them onward.

It was over. Well and truly over.

Annette was only aware of her tears when she started to sob and laugh at the same time. Arms wound around her the next moment, her friends crushing her close, branches leaning over her and a little pot hopping around them, bubbling and burbling messily, a warm hand ruffling her hair.

„We did it,“ she sobbed. „We’re free!“

Everyone else was crying now as well. Sobbing and laughing and some wailing as they clung to each other, relief and old pain washing over and through them as they were finally released.

Finally, they could all choose their own lives, their own fates, their own destinies.

„Now we get to choose,“ Annette hiccuped, hands clutching onto robes and someone’s sooty armor. „No one else, just us.“

Later, after tears had gotten dried and the last of the injuries were treated, they all went back to Annette’s home, sleeping for long hours. In the morning she sat outside, watching children get chased around by a large tree, while the Lich King and the count argued over how to best extend her house and make it bigger.

Because they were going to stay. Because choosing their future meant her sanctuary could just be a home now, no more hiding from Fate required.

Annette smiled and leaned back and she couldn’t help but dream about what the rest of her life might look like, now that it was hers. Just hers, no one else’s.

She got the feeling that whatever she chose to do, it was going to be amazing.