Chapter Five: The Wizard

Snow, Carter, and I offered our thanks to the Oracle before mounting up once more. The road ahead led us toward the Castle Village — a sprawling settlement that, according to Snow, sat in the looming shadow of the Wicked’s fortress. Even from a distance, the air seemed heavier in that direction, like the land itself recoiled from the power that slept there.

“Won’t it be, you know… kinda suicidal to stroll up near the Wicked’s crib?” Carter asked, tugging on his reins as we wound our way through the twisting forest path.

Snow gave a low chuckle, shaking her head. “The Wicked is far too enamored with his own reflection to notice three specks of dust passing by his window. His vanity blinds him more than my age ever could.”

Carter and I shared a startled glance, halting our horses mid-step.

“Hold up—” I stammered. “Did you just say your age?”

Snow slowed Excalibur and turned in the saddle, her silver hair catching faint beams of light through the trees. “You didn’t think I was your age, did you?” she teased, a sly grin curling on her lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment. My tonics must be working wonders.”

With that, she clicked her tongue, urging Excalibur ahead again. Carter and I hurried to catch up.

“So… are you, like, a grandma or something?” Carter blurted.

I shot him a sharp look, but Snow only laughed, the sound soft and wistful.

“No,” she said at last, her gaze drifting to the horizon. “I’ve lived a century, but love never found me — and I never found the time to chase it.”

The silence that followed her words felt heavy, stretching between us like a veil. The rhythmic clop of hooves on dirt filled the void, echoing through the forest as shadows lengthened across the path. I didn’t know what to say — what could you possibly say to someone who had watched a hundred years pass like seasons through glass?

Carter glanced at her, brow furrowed. “So… you’ve really seen it all then, huh? Kingdoms rise, fall, curses, wars—”

Snow’s lips curved faintly, but her eyes — those ancient, knowing eyes — clouded with something deeper. “More than I care to remember. Power changes faces, but never hearts. The Wicked is proof enough of that.”

I shifted uneasily in my saddle, the image of the cauldron’s vision flashing in my mind — that crimson moon, those colliding figures. I couldn’t shake it. Couldn’t stop wondering which of us would fall into the shadows first.

Snow must’ve noticed, because she looked over her shoulder and said, “Fate doesn’t play fair, Charlie. But sometimes… it offers warnings disguised as choices.”

Her words lingered like smoke in the air, curling into my chest, settling there — a truth I didn’t yet understand but knew I’d come to face. The trees thinned as we approached the edge of the village, and the castle loomed beyond like a shadow carved from stone. Its spires scraped the sky, blackened with age, and the air grew heavy, thick with a chill that wasn’t entirely natural. Even the horses hesitated, nostrils flaring, ears pinned back as if sensing something malevolent waiting ahead.

Snow urged Excalibur forward, her calmness a stark contrast to the tension radiating from the castle. “This is where your patience will be tested,” she said, her voice low. “The First Wizard won’t reveal his secrets lightly, and the Wicked… he’s always watching, always waiting.”

Carter’s usual bravado faltered as he glanced at the looming fortress. “Great,” he muttered, gripping Wiz’s reins tighter. “So we walk into danger and ask for help? Sounds like my kind of vacation.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the prophecy pressing down on me. The vision in the Oracle’s cauldron replayed in my mind — the clash of light and dark, the inevitability in the collision of two destinies. My heart thudded painfully. I couldn’t imagine losing Carter to whatever darkness awaited. Couldn’t imagine a world where the boy with the emerald eyes turned one red, one black, his hair rimmed with fire, becoming someone unrecognizable… someone evil.

Snow’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Stay close. Trust each other, but be ready for what you cannot yet see. The path ahead is crooked, full of temptation and peril. One misstep, and even the strongest bond can fracture.”

I met Carter’s eyes, searching for the familiar green, the mischievous spark that had always anchored me. He gave a half-smile, unaware of the shadow looming over him in the vision. But I knew, somewhere deep in my chest, that things were already beginning to change. The village grew nearer, the streets eerily silent as we descended into its center. Lanterns flickered in the breeze, and the faint scent of smoke curled from chimneys, carrying with it the promise of secrets, power, and the beginning of a journey neither of us could turn away from. The clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestone should’ve been soothing, a steady rhythm to calm the nerves. But all it did was echo like a ticking clock, each strike marking the countdown to Carter’s and my fates, to the battles we didn’t yet understand but could already feel pressing in from every direction.

“His hut is just on the edge of the forest up ahead,” Snow murmured, urging Excalibur into a faster trot.

Carter and I pressed our legs against our horses, forcing them to follow, hearts hammering with the same nervous anticipation I could feel in my chest.

“So,” Carter said, falling into stride beside Snow, “what exactly are we asking this wizard for?”

“Something the Oracle couldn’t give,” Snow replied, her voice low and serious. “Answers.”

The stone hut emerged from the trees, small yet commanding, shrouded in the tension of something ancient and powerful. It wasn’t just a building—it was a warning, a threshold to truths that might break us before we even crossed it. We tied our horses as we had at the Oracle’s cottage, but this time, every movement felt heavier, loaded with the weight of inevitability. My stomach churned with dread and anticipation, a twisted mix of fear and curiosity. I didn’t know if I was ready to see what lay ahead—or if anyone could ever truly be ready. But Snow had made it clear: the First Wizard held the knowledge we desperately needed, and there was no turning back. The forest seemed to lean closer around us as we approached the door, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that the world itself was holding its breath. The answers waited inside, and with them, the shadow of a fate neither Carter nor I could escape. We exchanged a glance, Carter’s green eyes bright with that familiar spark of mischief, though I could see the shadow of uncertainty lurking behind them. His brown hair fell into his face, and for a moment I imagined the black-and-red vision from my dream—the twisted version of him, one I desperately hoped wasn’t inevitable.

Snow knocked on the wooden door, her knuckles rapping with a deliberate rhythm that seemed almost ceremonial. The sound echoed through the trees, bouncing back at us like a drumbeat of fate. The air was heavy with anticipation, and even the forest seemed to hold its breath. The door creaked open, revealing a figure hunched over a cluttered desk, ink-stained hands moving over a massive tome. Candlelight flickered across the room, casting long shadows that danced along the stone walls. He—or rather, the First Wizard—didn’t even look up at us at first, absorbed in the work before him. Finally, he lifted his head. Eyes like molten silver met ours, piercing through to our very souls. His voice was low and commanding, carrying the weight of centuries.

“You’ve come,” he said, and for the first time, I realized that the stories, the prophecies, the warnings—they had all been waiting for this moment. “I wondered how long it would take for the Chosen Ones to arrive.”

Carter shifted beside me, his hand brushing against mine briefly, a silent acknowledgment that whatever lay ahead, we would face it together—at least for now. The Wizard gestured to two chairs across from him, and as we approached, the air around us seemed to pulse with the gravity of unspoken truths. “Sit,” he commanded. “And prepare yourselves. The path you’ve stepped onto does not end in comfort.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, heart racing. There was no turning back now. Carter, Snow, and I stepped into the dimly lit hut, the scent of old parchment and smoke curling through the air like ghosts of forgotten spells.

Shadows stretched long across the stone floor as the firelight flickered, casting the Wizard’s silhouette against the far wall—tall, sharp, and ancient. We settled into the worn chairs that circled the crackling hearth, the warmth licking at our faces but doing little to chase the chill settling in my bones.

“You know us?” Carter asked, breaking the uneasy silence. His voice was steady, but I caught the tremor in his hands as he rubbed them together, as though trying to disguise the nerves brewing beneath his usual swagger. Ever since we’d heard the word Prophecy, something in him had changed.

The Wizard lifted his gaze, eyes gleaming like pools of molten silver. “I know and see everything, boy,” he said, his voice smooth but ancient, every word heavy with time. “Of course I know who you are. And I know why you’ve come.”

A shrill whistle cut through the tension. The Wizard rose, robes whispering against the stone as he crossed to the hearth and lifted a battered kettle from its hook. The steam coiled into the air, mingling with the scent of herbs and magic. Without a word, he poured the amber liquid into four delicate cups, the china etched with runes that shimmered faintly in the firelight.

“You seek answers,” he said, handing each of us a cup, his gnarled fingers brushing mine briefly—sending a shiver down my spine. “And I am the only one who can give them.”

He returned to his armchair, sinking into the crimson cushions like a king on a throne, and withdrew a long, slender pipe from the folds of his robe. A flick of his fingers summoned a tiny flame, and soon a curl of fragrant smoke spiraled toward the ceiling.

For a long moment, the only sound was the quiet crackle of firewood. Then Snow spoke, her voice firm, cutting through the silence like a blade. “We need to know, sir. Are the boys the Chosen Ones?”

“Of course they are,” the Wizard said without hesitation, smoke seeping from his lips in ghostly trails. “If you think the Gate hadn’t told me the moment they stepped into Dramador…” His eyes flicked toward Carter and me, sharp and knowing. “…then our land is in far greater peril than I imagined.”

A deep laugh rumbled from his chest at his own remark, low and unsettling. None of us joined in.

The Wizard leaned forward, the firelight casting his shadow long across the floorboards. “The prophecy is no bedtime tale meant to frighten children,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “It is a promise carved into the bones of this realm—one that cannot be broken, only fulfilled.”

I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of my chair. “A promise to who?”

“To the land itself,” the Wizard replied, eyes narrowing. “When the Gate opens, it chooses with purpose. One heart touched by light… and one by darkness.”

Carter shifted uncomfortably beside me, and I could see his fingers tightening around his cup. “We don’t want that,” he said. “We didn’t ask to be part of any of this.”

The Wizard’s lips curved into a grim smile. “Few ever do. But destiny doesn’t ask for permission, boy. It claims you.”

A hush settled over the room, thick enough to choke on. Even Snow looked uneasy, her gaze darting between the Wizard and us.

He turned to me, his gaze piercing. “You, Child of the Sun, are bound to a path of mercy. You will carry the burden of choice, though it will tear you apart.” Then his eyes slid toward Carter, their gleam hardening. “And you… Child of the Shadow, will walk the edge of temptation. Every step you take will whisper its name. Power. Control. Freedom.”

“Enough,” I snapped before I could stop myself. “You don’t know us. You don’t know what we’ll do.”

The Wizard’s expression softened—not with kindness, but with pity. “If only that were true.”

He leaned back in his chair, drawing another breath from his pipe. The smoke twisted upward again, forming shapes—two figures standing opposite one another beneath a blood-red moon. When they collided, the smoke burst apart, scattering into nothing. My stomach turned cold. It was the same vision from the Oracle’s cauldron.

Snow’s voice was quiet when she finally spoke. “What must they do, Master Wizard?”

He glanced at her, then back at us. “The path will reveal itself in time. But remember—” His eyes found mine, sharp as flint. “—sometimes the brightest light casts the darkest shadow.”

The Wizard’s hand disappeared into the folds of his robe, and when it reemerged, something shimmered in his palm—a small pendant, shaped like a half-moon with veins of gold and crimson running through it. It pulsed faintly, as if alive, echoing the rhythm of a heartbeat.

“This,” he said, voice deep and solemn, “is The Binding Sigil. It was forged at the dawn of our age, when prophecy and fate first became one. It will guide you—when one strays from their path, the other will feel it burn.”

I stared at the charm, its glow reflected in Carter’s eyes. “Guide us how?”

The Wizard extended his hand, motioning for me to take it. Hesitation gnawed at my gut, but I reached out. The moment my fingers brushed its surface, warmth flooded through my arm, seeping into my chest—then, in a flash, it turned searing hot. I gasped, clutching my wrist as the light shot from the pendant and wrapped around my forearm like a brand. Across from me, Carter cursed, gripping his own arm. I looked over to see a faint red glow under his sleeve. The realization struck hard and fast. We were marked.

“What the hell did you just do?” Carter barked, eyes wide.

“I did nothing but reveal what was already bound,” the Wizard replied, his tone even, ancient. “Your fates are intertwined—your bond, eternal. Should one fall, the other will feel the weight of that loss. Should one betray, the other will know the sting of that wound.”

Snow’s face paled. “You’ve Tethered them?”

“They were Tethered the moment they stepped through the Gate,” he said simply. “I have only unveiled the truth.”

Carter rubbed his wrist, muttering under his breath, “Great. Just great. A magical tattoo. Exactly what I wanted.”

I tried to speak, but the words caught in my throat. The warmth was fading now, replaced by a faint thrum—steady, constant. Like a heartbeat shared between two souls.

The Wizard’s gaze softened, though it held no comfort. “Do not mistake this bond for mercy. It will test you both. What binds can also break.”

Snow leaned forward, her voice a whisper. “And if one loses their way?”

He exhaled a slow plume of smoke, eyes hooded. “Then the other must decide if they can save them… or if they must be the one to end them.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. I felt Carter’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look back. The weight of the Wizard’s words pressed heavy on my chest, sinking into my bones. Because for the first time, I wasn’t sure which path would be mine—and which would be his.

“How do we stop one of us from being turned into the wicked wizard of the West?” Carter asked, ripping his eyes off of me and onto the Wizard. “There’s gotta be a way we can.”

The Wizard only shook his head and puffed his pipe. “I wish I knew the answer. But not a single man knows everything that this world has to offer.”

Carter shot up from his chair, the sudden scrape of wood against stone cutting through the heavy silence. He began pacing the room, the flicker of the hearth casting restless shadows across his face. The glow caught in his eyes—usually bright with mischief, now stormy and sharp.

“Well, I refuse to believe this is inevitable,” he said, voice tight with defiance. “There has to be a way to stop it. There has to be.”

No one answered. The only sounds were the pop of firewood and the faint clatter of the horses grazing outside, blissfully unaware of the weight pressing in on the walls around us. For the first time since this insane journey began, Carter wasn’t hiding behind sarcasm or swagger. His mask had slipped, and what I saw underneath terrified me. He was scared. And not the kind of scared you could laugh off. This was bone-deep, soul-sick fear—the kind that gnawed at the edges of hope. I rose quietly and joined him by the window. The night outside stretched endless and dark, the stars scattered like forgotten embers across an ink-stained sky.

“What’s running through your head?” I asked softly.

Carter let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping as though the prophecy itself were pressing down on him. When he turned to look at me, his eyes were heavy, glassy with something that wasn’t quite tears—but close.

“I’m thinking,” he said slowly, voice cracking just slightly, “that one of us might have to kill the other before this is all over.”

The words hung there, cold and cruel, echoing through the quiet hut. He tried to smirk after saying it—to throw up the wall he always did when things got too real—but it faltered. The grin didn’t reach his eyes. It just… fell flat. A chill rolled down my spine. I’d seen Carter angry, reckless, fearless—but never like this. Never hollow. Never broken.

I rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “Hey. We’re gonna figure this out,” I said, forcing conviction into every word. “Together. You hear me? No prophecies. No fate. Just us.”

He nodded faintly, lips curving into a fragile ghost of a smile. But his eyes—those bright, lively eyes that always burned with some joke or challenge—were dim now. Distant. And for the first time, I felt the prophecy’s weight settle into my bones. Because whatever future lay ahead, something between us had already begun to shift.

A sudden draft swept through the room, snuffing out half the candles in an instant. Shadows leapt across the walls, stretching long and twisted, as if something unseen had stirred awake. Carter and I both froze. The temperature dropped, and the fire in the hearth crackled—then flared, shifting from orange to a deep, unnatural blue. My hand fell instinctively to the charm at my neck, its metal warm—no, hot—against my skin. Carter’s gaze flicked to it, then to the fire, a look of realization flashing through his dim eyes.

“It’s starting, isn’t it?” he whispered, voice low, almost reverent.

I wanted to tell him no, that this was just another trick of fate meant to scare us—but the pulse beneath my fingertips said otherwise. The charm throbbed once, twice, before cooling back to normal. Outside, the wind howled like something alive, rattling the shutters. The horses whinnied in panic, their hooves scraping against the ground.

Carter turned to me, fear and determination warring in his expression. “If that prophecy’s real, we don’t have much time left.”

He was right. Whatever we were running from… or toward… it had just found us. A sudden, tangible hush fell over the hut. The air thickened—cold, heavy—like the moment before a storm breaks. Carter and I turned in unison, every hair on the back of my neck standing on end. A tall, dark figure stood in the center of the room, cloaked in shadow, its face hidden beneath a hood drawn low.

“So,” it said, voice smooth as silk and sharp as a blade. “You’re the Chosen Ones destined to stop me?”

My breath hitched. The Wicked.

The Wizard and Snow didn’t utter a word. Their faces drained of color, frozen like statues carved from fear itself. The Wicked began to circle us, slow and deliberate, like a predator studying its next meal. Then, with one fluid motion, he drew back his hood.

He wasn’t what I’d imagined. Not some ancient monster or gnarled sorcerer, but a young man—no, barely older than Carter or me. His skin was pale, luminous against the flickering firelight, his hair a deep, hellish red, and his eyes—those eyes—glowed crimson and black, like coals still burning in the aftermath of a fire. When he smiled, sharp fangs glinted. Not quite a vampire… something worse.

His gaze slid over us, cold and calculating, like he was marking every weakness, every hesitation. “I was expecting someone… older.”

Carter’s jaw tightened, his voice steady despite the tremor in his fists. “Our age doesn’t affect our fight.”

The Wicked’s grin widened, all cruel amusement. “Spirited. I like that.” His voice lowered, almost a purr. “You’d make a fine apprentice for me one day.”

“I’d never join you,” Carter shot back, eyes blazing. “I’ll fight to destroy you—and your Curse.”

A chuckle escaped the Wicked’s lips—dark, knowing. “We’ll see about that,” he murmured, lifting a hand. “I have a feeling our paths will cross again… soon.”

His crimson eyes lingered on Snow for a moment, who only clenched her jaw. “I’ll be seeing all of you soon.”

Before anyone could move, his form blurred into a swirl of smoke, crimson and black, vanishing into the cold air. The silence that followed was deafening—broken only by the pounding of our hearts and the dying hiss of the hearth.