As usual, the Prince didn't grasp what I was saying right away.
> "Why?" he asked, puzzled. "What could've been the mistake?"
I exhaled slowly and closed my eyes, letting the silence stretch. "Prince, you heard what Braska said. That stone is called the Stone of Truth. It only detects lies. But if I had given Braska the chance to question me, do you think he would've asked about betrayal?"
The boy was silent. I answered my own question.
"No. He would've asked things like:
'How did I know about the poisoning?'
'How did I find the exact plant needed for the cure—one so rare it borders on myth?'
'How do I know the identity of the mastermind behind the attack?'
And tell me, Prince… can I afford to answer those questions truthfully, with my hand on that stone?"
The chamber fell still. For once, even the Prince had nothing to say.
I continued, my tone sharper. "I don't intend to share my secrets. Not with Braska, not with anyone. But silence would only breed suspicion—he might imagine I'm hiding something worse. So I didn't give him the chance. I laid out all the acceptable truths myself. And since the Stone didn't kill me, he now believes me. In fact, he probably forgot the rest of the questions he had prepared."
Finally, the Prince let out a low whistle of awe.
> "Wow, Chris… I never thought of it like that. You're… more clever than I expected."
I allowed myself a small nod, though I didn't answer him. Clever wasn't the word. Necessary was.
---
The rest of the day passed in quiet tension. Though I had been granted freedom to move about the settlement, I chose seclusion. My identity remained veiled, my role undefined. Better they whisper than know too much. If the traitor within their tribe discovered too soon that I was dismantling his schemes, he might burrow deeper, hide his trail.
And I needed him exposed.
When dusk painted the skies crimson, a messenger came again.
"The Chief calls you to the vice leader's chambers," he said, bowing.
The request was odd. The vice leader had only just recovered—why summon me now?
I went regardless.
---
The quarters were smaller than I expected, more humble than my own lodging. A faint herbal fragrance filled the air—mint, sage, and something sharper beneath. Oil lamps flickered along the walls, shadows bending and straightening with the flames. The bed at the center was plain, draped in furs.
And upon it lay the vice leader.
I entered silently, but she turned her head the moment my foot crossed the threshold.
Her eyes opened—
—and I froze.
They were white. Pure, unbroken white. No pupils. No irises.
Blind.
Yet her gaze locked onto me unerringly. Not past me. Not vaguely near me. At me.
I felt my breath stall in my throat. Her stare didn't see me—it pierced me. Through my skin, into my thoughts, deeper still, down to the marrow of my soul.
She was blind. And yet she saw more than any sighted person ever could.
I stood rooted, unwilling to move, afraid of what shifting might reveal.
Even the Prince, whose chatter never ceased, had gone silent. When I called out to him mentally, there was no answer. It was as if her gaze had severed the connection, leaving me alone with myself.
And with her.
---
In desperation, I muttered verses from the Bible under my breath. Old habit. Old comfort. Maybe it would drive away whatever she was.
It didn't.
Her eyes stayed on me, relentless.
The thought slithered into my mind unbidden: What if God has no place in this world? What if Akrat is the only god here? Or worse—what if there are none at all?
I swallowed hard, pushing it down. But the unease grew.
Then, as if to crown the moment, the old woman lifted a frail hand and beckoned me closer.
My throat went dry.
I glanced at the attendants, expecting protest or warning. Instead, they smiled—reverent, expectant, as if witnessing a holy rite.
Someone shoved me from behind. Hard.
I stumbled forward and clenched my jaw, silently promising myself I would remember the feel of that push. Whoever had dared, I would repay them later.
Now, I had no choice but to stand before her.
Her white eyes drifted slowly from the top of my head to my boots, then back again. She studied me as though she could peel away each layer of my being.
Then she laughed.
Not gently. Not kindly. A rasping, twisted laugh that filled the chamber with unease.
> "Heheheh… what a twist of fate."
Her voice was low, cracked, yet strangely resonant.
> "Destiny begins a new game. You… you are the only one who can change everything. I see it clearly. But heed me well—if you abandon your past in pursuit of the future, you will lose yourself. Only those who carry their past, present, and future together can alter fate. That is the way to live forever."
The words struck like arrows, sinking deep though their meaning escaped me. I felt the air itself tighten, as though her prophecy had weight beyond sound.
Then her laughter rose again—louder, harsher, echoing along the walls until it felt less like mirth and more like a curse.
I understood nothing. Not one fragment.
But I nodded solemnly, bowed my head as though receiving divine wisdom, and turned to leave. Better to appear respectful than expose confusion.
As I crossed the threshold, I glanced behind me, eyes searching for the one who had shoved me forward.
It was Mia.
Of course.
Her lips curled into the faintest smirk, satisfaction glinting in her eyes.
I gritted my teeth. This battle maniac… popping out of nowhere, again, just to toy with me.
I added her name to my growing list of future revenges. But not today.
Today, I walked away, the echo of the vice leader's words still clinging to me like cobwebs I couldn't shake off.
"Eyes that see through fate…" I muttered under my breath.
And for the first time in a long while, I wondered if mine were truly my own.