If Fate Will Allow

A single heartbeat echoes in my chest, a last reminder that I’m still alive though I know it won’t be for long. With a painfilled wheeze I draw what’s likely a final breath into my crushed lungs. And though destiny has brought me here; it would seem my fate is to die here today. The colossal titan still looms over me after delivering a final blow. He stands tall, surveying the action around him, likely choosing his next victim. His massive war hammer clutched to his bare chest.

The journey here appears to have been a lost cause; I was the first to fall but others aren’t far behind. We were a patched together group of warriors hoping to be called heroes one day for our deeds on this mountain. That title would have only come had we succeeded. As it looks now, the only and best option for those remaining would be to run.

While my vision fades, I look over the place where I now expect I’ll die. A burnt-out shell of an ancient castle perched on a mountaintop just beneath the dark cloudy skies. Rain pelts down on me, an unnatural rain called by the titan when he charmed the skies. Turning my head to the side as my world is swallowed away into darkness, I see a thick flow of blood trailing away from me-soon, it too will stop. Then a glint catches my eye, still clenched in my fist is the weapon I’ve carried for as long as my memory allows. Even at the edge of death, I’m unwilling to release my hold around the hilt of that magical sword, my namesake, my curse.

One additional heartbeat rattles beneath my ribs, it’s almost painful, but gives me life for a moment longer. And although my vision succumbs to darkness as I lay here waiting for death to take me, a series of images come to life inside my mind, memories of my past, visions of a life lost to me long ago. I’ve made many mistakes during my life, but one error was so enormous it shaped who I would become; it cemented my future and, at the same time, took from me everything I was.

A long-forgotten memory is awakened, I see my family for the first time in a dozen years or more. Two brothers, I now remember my two younger brothers, they were twins and my mother adored them. Her adoration toward them wasn’t something I regretted, not at all, my father spent all his spare time with me, I was his prince, the heir to his great kingdom, the future king of his vast lands.

My brothers and I were each taught separate arts, I was trained in combat, my brother Renick was trained in the art of healing and Trenor was taught the ancient ways of magic, though he secretly trained as a thief. We were inseparable as youths and deeply enjoyed all our time together. There was never any jealousy or a sour thought between us. We swore to always be there for one another, a promise that lasted for many years before being broken.

The pleasant dreams dissolve as a nightmare comes into focus to torture me, to accentuate my failure. I know the curse laid upon me was for my selfish deeds. The memory of my choice was emblazoned upon my mind like a new tattoo, crisp and permanent. It was everything leading up to it that was blocked. The man my father had trusted as an advisor was using his powerful magics to choke life from the land itself. Ending years of prosperous growth and leaving the citizens starving upon their diseased fields. Our father was too old to answer the call. He needed us, his sons, to rise up as heroes and end this man’s tyrannical hold on our lands.

With our youth-filled bravery we accepted, but father wouldn’t send us alone. He sent with us his last trusted friend, the warrior who trained me, Drax. He was unmatched with the sword, and the blade he carried was as marvelous as the man. We had only heard tales of Drax’s blade, its name was Brightblade. It was said to be more ancient than anyone knew, its origins completely lost in time. When I finally laid eyes upon its beauty, its pure perfection, there was a desire that grew, a jealousy that festered, I wanted it. I somehow knew one day it would be mine. Not by any nefarious means, but by fate.

Our battle with the wizard was not going well, my brothers still at the back of the wizard’s great hall, confronted by beasts unknown to man, conjurations of a powerful magic. Drax and I had advanced forward. I was lucky to stay close to him, his blade protected me and I cleaned up the scraps they left behind. When Drax finally reached the wizard, they both suffered at each other’s hands. Their battle swaying back and forth.

Behind me I heard the screams of my brothers, a sound that has haunted me for so many years. They both had been beaten to the ground and needed me to come protect them, to save them. Just then a massive fireball hit Drax and the blast sent him to the ground, and it tossed the sword from his dead hand. The sword lay free for the taking. In that split second I could let selfishness take me, running forward to get the sword and finish the wizard, or I could turn and run to my brothers, both clinging to life, and protect them. I couldn’t do both, I admit I knew that.

My fate was written in stone that day. A stone that would become tied around my neck with a noose. Though I achieved my father’s goal and freed the land, I also came home carrying the lifeless bodies of my brothers, his sons. “You aren’t fit to be a king. You should always choose friends, family, over glory. That is what we always instilled in you. It’s better to die a hero than to live in shame.” He couldn’t look at me, and even my mother turned away when I came into a room.

There were no words to express my sorrow, no way to give honor to my deeds. Instead, I spent days in my room holding that sword, training with it, learning its bulk and balance. For such a massive weapon Brightblade had very little weight. It was the marvel I hoped it would be. The sword was mine now, and I hope to one day use it as a king should. Then it hit me, the only way to get my father to understand.

It took a few days before I raised the nerve to talk to my parents, after gathering them in their lavish throne room I knelt on the stairs before them and said, “Mother, Father, I come to you a humble and broken son. I know my deeds have brought shame upon me. The weight of my disgrace is immense, immeasurable. I hope to earn back your love in time. If for a moment you could look at the treasure I achieved with the deed I performed. While carrying this mighty blade before me I destroyed your greatest threat. And one day I plan to rule these lands fairly and justly with this sword at my side.” As I spoke, I could see blood rising in his face and I knew he didn’t agree with much I said. He was kind and let me finish either because he’s a good king or because I’m his son.

“What lands will you rule? Certainly not ours. You think a sword makes you a good king? It makes you a coward, you hid behind it the day your brothers died, and you hide behind it now. Drax wasn’t a great warrior because of that sword.” He pauses and points to the weapon I carry at my side. “He was a great warrior that had a great sword. I have a different fate for you. A different plan for your future,” he said, his words felt more like a threat than a promise of anything good.

That day, there in their throne room, he laid the curse upon me. He pulled a dagger from alongside his thrown. Its tip glistened with the most unnatural shade of green. He held it out in front of my face and with a flourish, leaving me no time to react, he delivered a single gash to my cheek, a wound that bleeds to this day to remind me of my failure. Then he read from a scroll he had prepared and took from me all memories of my name, my past and my life. “Go out into some lands far from our own. Carry with you that sword, Brightblade, a sword which from now on will be your only family and with which you will share its name. If one day your deeds again deserve our love, this cut will close and you will remember who you are and will be welcomed home with open arms.” My mother watched from the tower above as I rode away from the castle. Even at a distance I could see her sadness.

A dozen years of deeds are behind me. My only memories are the faces of those who’ve thanked me. Princes and princesses saved, dragons destroyed, and towns protected from terrible threats, over and over I’ve put others ahead of myself. In all these years I’ve only taken what few coins I need to eat and have given anything above that to those in need. All the while, each day I’ve prayed that cut would heal over, dreaming the day would come when I would remember my name and my family. So it is, now at my time of death that it all comes back to me. King Aurion is my father, my mother is Wren, and my name is Gregor. What cruel timing.

My senses are all but gone, all that remains now is the silent realization I’m in my last few seconds of life. And enshrouding this singular moment is an unexpected feeling of joy, joy from finally recalling my family and remembering who I am no matter how brief it may last. I don’t blame my parents for what they did, it alone has made me the man I am today. If only there was a way to have one more minute so I could look upon myself and see if that cursed wound has ended its continuous seeping. That would finally let me know it’s time to go home.

Then I hear a voice echoing in my head, a voice that’s been with me the past many years. “Fate,” it says.

“I know my fate, my fate is to die here today,” I respond in thought.

“Your fate is yet to be presented to you. Death today is not your fate,” it says. The voice is always in my head. In the past I believed it to be my subconscious, my deeper thoughts. It has been there through battle, encouraging me, advising me. As long as I can remember it’s been with me. Yet now, with my added memories of my past, the first time it spoke to me was in the wizard’s hall. I first heard the voice immediately after grabbing the sword, my sword. It coached me to victory over the wizard.

“But I feel life fading. My body is all but dead,” I respond.

“Brightblade, speak the word heal and you shall be made whole.”

Then I ask something I could have asked long ago, a question that never dawned on me until now, “Who is this?”

“I am you, an extension of you. We are joined at your hand. I am Brightblade.”

The sword, my only friend, my partner in life, we are one. “Heal,” I cry out. It may have been in my mind, or I may have spoken it aloud. Either way, with a singular heartbeat my body is made whole, and all my strength is restored.

I leap to my feet, my sword already clenched in my fist. Then, without pause, I strike a most stunning blow to the titan as he walked away from what he believed was a vanquished foe. He never saw it coming, never had a chance to defend himself, and he didn’t survive the assault.

Once again, a healthy heart beats in my chest and with it the memories of my past fade away like a dream. I grasp for them, I try to hold just one, but they dissipate in seconds. Then I hear it, a singular drop of blood rings upon my breastplate, a sound I have long been used to, the sound of my weeping wound, the sign that my curse still stands. And sadly, there’s no need to check the wound.

I know now one place where I can find my home, at the edge of death. I had the chance to see all that had been lost even though I can’t remember it. All I can hope is that fate will return it to me one day. And if I’m lucky, if fate will allow, that day will come while my heart still beats strong in my chest.