The Seer

[Contains impaling by sword]

No one visited the island anymore. Not for a few centuries.

I’m not sure if I miss the social interaction, or if I miss being remembered. Part of me wants to be known, but then again, one way or another, I’ll end up being exploited.

People always begin with good intentions, but eventually they give way to darker motivations. Centuries ago, I would be approached by humble souls seeking knowledge, guidance, or assistance. Over time, well-meaning people gave way to malicious, scheming, and cold-hearted souls. It is an inevitable aspect of human nature.

Living for centuries has its downsides, but it also comes with unparalleled power. My power is what draws people to me, from across seas and from every corner of the world imaginable. I can see every visible and hidden depth of their person, every unvoiced thought and underlying motivation. Nothing is hidden from me the moment their wanting eyes search my depths for answers.

It’s a curse, but it’s one I deserve.

You see, there used to be an ancient seer, his powers far exceeding any mage before and after him. I was intrigued by this all-powerful being, back when I was an arrogant king. I was drunk on my near-godly power, absolutely certain of my rule and the glory of my future. Hungering for more power, I decided to seek him out, traversing hundreds of miles on horseback and a month at sea.

When the fog grew thick one morning, I knew we were close. The seer’s secret island was blanketed in clouds, part ominous, part majestic. Utterly magical.

Entering the crumbling castle was easy; finding the seer was not. There were hundreds upon thousands of tapestries, relics, and mirrors, but surprisingly lacking in old men. In frustration, I ordered my legion to split up. It was pointless for them to guard me if the castle was devoid of any soul except the seer.

Less than half an hour of wandering the halls alone, I heard ritualistic muttering. At first, I was utterly bewildered, but once I realized the voice could only be coming from the seer, my heart was pounding. I chased after the sound like a madman, racing down corridors and stumbling around corners in my haste.

The voice led me to a simple room, its large windows spilling dull light onto the sparse furniture. Kneeling on an ornately dyed rug, dressed in gray robes, was the famed seer. He looked old. Ancient. Elderly. I was surprised he wasn’t a mummy.

“Oh, great and powerful seer, I have journeyed here to seek your wisdom.”

No response. No acknowledgement. The old man just kept on rhythmically chanting, his head bowed in reverence.

What could possibly be more important than noticing this foreign man who just entered the room? I was appalled. Furious.

The seer ended his muttering and looked up, but not in my direction. His gaze was fixed on a large mirror. My brow furrowed. That was a strange mirror; it reflected a dark sheen rather than the bright light of the sun. It struck me that the seer was staring into the depths of a sheet of pure obsidian.

With the speed of a lethargic tortoise, the seer stood up. I grimaced in annoyance, both his lack of urgency and the harsh creaking of his joints infuriating me. After what seemed like centuries, the frail man finally acknowledged me.

A peculiar sensation washed over me. I felt like a bug being scrutinized by a young boy, somewhat in awe and somewhat disappointed. Everything that I am, was, and ever will be was laid out for the seer to examine at his leisure.

His eyes terrified me. They held such power in their blue depths that I felt as if I were staring down an inevitable downfall. While his outfit was drab to match his seemingly lifeless skin, his eyes blazed with power. He has seen millions of possibilities in his long life. Millions of worlds that could have become reality, but only one that did. His gaze witnessed the future of every individual he ever laid eyes on.

The minute his piercing gaze left me, the feeling vanished. All these terrible sensations of fear and scrutiny suddenly left, startling me with an abrupt void of any uncomfortable sensation. I shuddered, trying to chase away any echoes of his gaze.

“Hmm.” The old man pondered.

“Tell me, seer, what did you see?” I begged, startling myself. I was a powerful king, a man who had no need to grovel before another man of equal power.

When he remained staring blankly into space, lost in a reality only he can see, I interrupted. “Is my rule destined for greatness? Will I be the greatest King to ever live?”

The old man looked at me again, and that unsettling feeling returned. I wanted to look away, but I was desperate for these answers, desperate to confirm my glory. The anticipation built, and my heartbeat pounded in my ears with a roar.

Slowly, the seer answered me. “You are destined for great things.”

He was tentative with his information, cautious. Scared of giving away too much. I wanted more. I wanted to hear him paint glorious images of my battle conquests, my grand victories in the future. But he didn’t elaborate.

“Is that it?” I asked, incredulously. “Tell me what you saw! How long will I rule? Will my successor be greater than I? Will I be the greatest king for centuries? I order you to answer!”

“You have no authority here.” His voice is steady, calm like the fog enveloping this castle. “You are a mortal man. No titles. In this room, you mean no more than the mice in these walls.”

I was sputtering in indignation. I was far superior to a rat.

He continued, “But I will satisfy your thirst for knowledge.” He took a long breath as I held mine. “I saw many things in your future. Your rule will be brief, but you will live a long life. Your successor is among those here in the castle, and though he will never match your power, he will be a strong leader nonetheless. You may not be the greatest king, but you will hold immense power.”

I was speechless. How could I rule so briefly and yet live so long? Was I destined to be overthrown? If I were overthrown, why wouldn’t I be killed? I was spiraling, trapped in the dark clutches of my own paranoia. Hearing that one of my own trusted men would succeed me to the throne, I was furious. Who would dare betray me? I fumed, feeling positively murderous.

“Who will betray me?” I forced out through gritted teeth.

“No one.” The seer replied, shuffling away towards the door. Turning away from me.

“ANSWER ME!” I roared, drawing my sword. He stopped and turned to face me. The fear that washed over me from his gaze only heightened my anger and paranoia. I am great, I will be the greatest. This old man can’t stop me.

“What will happen is already set in motion, boy. You are powerless.”

I am not powerless, I thought, rage clouding all judgment. I will never be powerless. I am the greatest. I am the greatest. Nothing can hurt me. I am not powerless. With an animalistic scream of anger, I ran him through, impaling his frail body with my sword.

I finally realized what I’d done.

I killed the most powerful man in the world, the only one who knew my downfall. The only one who could help me prevent it.

His blood was seeping into the rug, darkening the colors with its dark crimson. I felt sick. I turned away from the body and found myself staring into the inky depths of the obsidian mirror.

I was looking at myself, I was certain. But my image was distorted, marred by the darkness. I looked haunted. You could see it clearly in my eyes.

A sudden pain struck me. I screamed in agony, falling to my knees. I was being torn open, ripped apart by unknown forces. If I pay close enough attention, I can detect the faint memory of this pain, echoes of the agony I experienced back then. It felt like hours, or mere seconds. I was too delirious to tell. Trivial things like time and murdering a powerful seer are forgotten when it felt as if my very essence was being violently ripped from my being.

When I regained the capability to think in more terms besides pain, pain, and agonizing pain, I couldn’t feel my body. I could tell I was of a sound mind, just as sane as before, but I had no sensation of touch. Everything surrounding me was just my mind.

I could see, but it was distorted. Like looking through a window, my vision was limited with boundaries, clear, square edges defining what I saw. I could tell I had a higher vantage point, but everything through the window was dark, like it was late at night, or there was a colored film.

When I thought to examine what I actually could see, I froze in shock. I forgot to breathe. Lying before me, strewn on the rug like an abandoned marionette, was my own body.

To say the least, I panicked. I was alive, as far as I could tell, but I was separated from my physical body, trapped somewhere on the other side of a window.

It could have been days or hours, but eventually I heard the telltale sounds of my soldiers in the hall. Something tingled in the back of my skull, but I suppressed it. When they entered, there was a great turmoil as they found the dead bodies of the seer and me. They alerted my second-in-command, my most trusted general. When he arrived, he brought order into the chaos, organizing my body to be carried back to the ship so I would be returned for a proper burial.

It was an odd experience, watching my soldiers move my corpse around, watching them execute orders without me. I was there, but they couldn’t see me. I didn’t exist anymore.

The room began to clear out, and as they milled about, I could catch some snippets of their conversations.

“The king looks like he just dropped dead—”

“—no fatal wounds.”

“He had to have been cursed.”

“—he killed the seer.”

“He was too arrogant, too greedy.”

“The general is our new king—”

An ugly, soul-devouring mix of emotions pooled in my gut. Was I really that arrogant? Did my soldiers not trust me? I wasn’t greedy, was I? My thoughts spiral, fear giving way to anger. How could I be replaced so easily? By my own general! A man with no royal blood! I have been betrayed!

And then it dawned on me that the only person who betrayed me was myself. I lost control and brought this curse upon myself. There is no one to blame but me.

A soldier looked at me, revealing my train of thought. Well, he wasn’t exactly looking at me; more likely, he was looking through me.

I wanted to say something, wanted to explain what happened. But I couldn’t find the words. I didn’t know what to say so he would understand. The tingle in my mind became sharper, more annoying.

“I—” My mouth opened, releasing one measly sound before being cut off.

“What is this mirror?” The soldier asked. He had just interrupted his king, I fumed before realizing he wouldn’t have interrupted me if he knew I was speaking.

That meant he couldn’t hear me.

“What do you mean?” A different voice asked.

“Well, it’s obsidian,” The soldier before me replied. “Does that mean it’s magic?”

“I don’t know, maybe it will tell you about your future. Maybe that’s how the seer was so powerful. He had a magic mirror.”

I was trapped inside the obsidian mirror. It makes sense, but I’m still shocked, regardless.

“Oh, okay.” The soldier took a breath before beginning, “Mirror, mirror—”

“What are you doing?” The other soldier laughed, doubling over.

“I don’t know,” He was beet red from embarrassment. “I just wanted to address it properly. The mirror might get mad and smite me or something.”

He resumed, “Mirror, mirror, with powers untold, tell me what my future holds.”

“You sound like a poet!” Howled the other soldier in laughter.

The weird sensation in my head exploded, filling my mind with visions of the man. Every possible aspect of his future filled my head. Gradually, the ideal reality began to form. I saw his life flashing by in snippets, smiles, laughter, and family. And the end: he would become a very decorated officer, but would be cut down in battle.

The visions ended abruptly.

I was compelled to speak. But I had to be mindful of how much information I shared. How I reply greatly influences future decisions. Slowly, and with great caution, I reply, “You are destined for great joy and great glory.”

The smile that erupted across his face was worth omitting his eventual death.

“See! Magic!”

The news spread, and it wasn’t long before I had foreseen the future of my entire legion. They sailed off later that day, leaving me trapped in a silent tomb of a castle.

The next few decades, I was busy. The notion of a magic mirror rekindled a frenzy of future-seekers, flocking to the castle with a mad fervor. I would have charged people for how many questions they asked, but I had no use for material wealth. If only I could have had a coin for every redundant question I answered with inhuman patience.

Over time, the visits became less frequent, gradually diminishing and fading. My popularity slowly faded like a dying star.

And now, I wait. Uncertain if I hope for a visit or if I am content in solitude. Sometimes the loneliness eats away at me, makes my mind spiral. I feel listless, and yet restless. Wanting to be known again, but not to be bombarded with pointless questions.

The base of my mind tingled with the familiar sensation. Someone had stepped on my island. Over the decades, no, centuries of this curse, I have become hyper-aware of my powers that heighten when a moral soul is near.

So I wait, patiently aching to be found. To know, once and for all, if I truly desire social contact. That is, if you consider looking into the future of the person in front of you to be “social contact.”

Small feet pad down the hall, beckoned towards me by a force unnamed. The figure steps into the room, her features sharpening the closer she gets. A thin girl, with sharp features and a cunning demeanor, stands before me with an angry fire burning in her eyes. She is beautiful, breathtaking, like an arrow before it pierces your heart.

“Mirror, mirror,” She begins, staring at me with a venomous intensity. “On the wall, who will make my father fall?”

A peculiar question. I mull it over as I search for the answer in her future. Ah, yes. “Little queen, fair princess. You will make your father fall.”

She smiles, a twisted beauty, a poisoned rose.

“Anything else?” Her question hangs in the air, delicately poised. Not a string of words, but a viper, waiting on my reply.

“Take me,” I reply, seizing my opportunity. I need a change in scenery, and I can see the evident potential in these girls. She is destined to be great and powerful. She only needs me to guide her. “Bring me to your castle. Let me guide you towards victory.” Her eyes glow with interest. I have opened a new world of possibilities that cannot be closed. To seal the deal, solidify the allure, I add, “I can see you as a great and renowned queen. Feared in your realm and those surrounding it. You will conquer and overcome. You will be powerful.”

Her eyes say yes.

She summons her own soldiers and orders them to remove me from the wall. I smile, knowing I don’t need my powers to envision my future. It is already clear. I will be restored to a position of glory. Once more, I’ll be powerful.

This girl, she’ll have everything she wants. The beautiful queen. Feared throughout the land. Powerful.

And her mirror. Me.

The mirror on the wall.