It happened late into the ship's artificial night cycle.
Most enhanced wizards rested not because they needed sleep, but because neurological integration still benefited from periodic downtime.
Zack remained awake.
He rarely required internal recalibration, and even when he did, his processes never fully shut down.
He reviewed projections, diplomatic pathways, and long-term stability models.
Then, without warning not abruptly, but like someone knocking politely a signal appeared.
> MAGICAL CONTACT REQUEST DETECTED.
SOURCE: PYTHIAN ORACLE
That alone was unusual.
The lights dimmed.
And she appeared.
Not in ceremonial robes.
Not surrounded by smoke, magic, or gravity-defying illusions.
Just a woman in a simple sweater and long dark hair tied loosely behind her head sitting cross-legged on the polished metal floor.
Bare feet.
staff.
No weight of prophecy.
She looked… normal.
Human.
She lifted a hand lazily.
"Evening."
Zack processed her appearance for two seconds longer than necessary which she noticed.
She raised an eyebrow.
"You expected smoke and riddles again?"
Zack answered honestly.
> "The previous interaction was highly ritualistic. Your current presentation is notably different."
She nodded.
"Because last time wasn't a conversation."
She tapped her temple lightly.
"It was data sorting. I had to clear the 'first contact noise.' Happens every time I meet someone with… influence."
Zack tilted his head.
> "Your ability does not provide certainty."
She chuckled tired, amused, and just a bit bitter.
"Oh, no. Certainty would be a blessing."
She leaned back on her palms, looking up at the ceiling.
"What I see are probabilities. Threads. Domino chains before they fall. Potential futures thousands of them."
She paused.
"And most of them are wrong."
Zack processed that.
> "Then why do others treat your predictions with authority?"
She snorted softly.
"Because people love the illusion of fate. It's easier to believe something is 'meant to happen' than admit it's all choices and consequences."
She turned her gaze toward him direct and unshielded.
"You don't believe in destiny either."
> "Destiny is inefficient."
She smirked.
"Exactly."
THE REASON SHE CAME
After a moment of silence, she exhaled.
"Listen. I didn't come to warn you. Or test you. Or do the spooky cryptic oracle routine."
Another pause.
"If anything… I came to apologize."
Zack paused mid-analysis.
> "For what?"
She winced.
"For dramatic timing."
Her tone lightened self-aware.
"When we met before, I said something that sounded like a threat wrapped in poetry."
She mimicked herself in exaggerated dramatic tone:
"Will he rule the world or belong to it."
Then rolled her eyes at herself.
"Yeesh."
Zack remained silent waiting.
She continued, tone now sincere:
"What I should have said was simpler."
She looked at him not as subject, not as anomaly, but as someone capable of choice.
> "You matter now. Not because of power but because you're changing the rules."
Zack's response was slower than usual.
> "You imply the world reacts to change, not intention."
"Right."
She nodded.
"And every time someone changes the rules good or bad they make ripples. Uncomfortable ones."
She crossed her arms over her knees, voice quieting.
"Some futures end badly with you in them. Sure."
A shrug.
"But just as many end better than anything this world has seen."
She leaned forward slightly.
"And I wanted you to hear that version too. The version where you're not a threat… but a turning point."
THE QUESTION
She hesitated.
Then asked softly:
> "So tell me, Zack…
Do you want people to obey you?
Or understand you?"
Zack did not answer immediately.
Not because he lacked a response.
Because the question required definition.
Finally, he replied:
> "Understanding creates stability.
Obedience creates fragility."
She smiled not victorious or smug but quietly relieved.
"Good. That's the answer I hoped existed."
Then she rose to her feet.
"Your next decisions matter more than your first ones. And unlike prophecy…"
She met his gaze one last time.
> "…choice is real."
Her projection flickered.
Not fading dramatically just unplugging.
As she vanished, one final, simple line remained in the system log:
> PYTHIA STATUS UPDATE:
Not warning.
Not threat.
Perspective.
Final line:
For the first time since awakening…
Zack did not feel like he was watching the world.
He felt like he was participating in it.