Chapter Four: The Oracle

The world around me hummed like a heartbeat. I stood in the middle of a field — not the same one from earlier, but something warped and unfamiliar. The sky overhead bled shades of red and violet, colors bruising into one another like an open wound. The grass swayed though there was no wind, each blade whispering my name in a chorus of voices I didn’t recognize.

“Charlie…”

I turned, and Carter was there — standing at the edge of the field, just beyond a crooked fence that seemed to stretch into forever. He stared out at something I couldn’t see, his back to me. A faint light flickered before him, soft and pulsing, like a dying ember trying to stay alive.

“Carter?” I called, my voice smaller than I meant it to be, weak against the hush of the world. “Where are we?”

He didn’t turn, but his hand lifted slightly — slow, deliberate. Something glimmered between his fingers, sharp and dark, humming with quiet power. For a split second, the light caught his face, and I saw what the shadows had been hiding. His hair, once brown, was now black as coal with streaks of deep crimson at the edges. One of his eyes shone red — glowing faintly like a coal buried in ash — while the other was pitch black, swallowing the light entirely. His robe matched, black with red threading that seemed to shift, moving like veins pulsing with energy.

“You’ll see,” he said softly. “Everything’s clearer here.”

I took a hesitant step toward him, but the earth trembled beneath my feet. The grass curled and darkened, smoke rising from its edges, and the air thickened — heavy, hot, choking. When I blinked, shadows had gathered around him, faint figures rising from the ground, mirroring his stance but with faces I couldn’t make out. They leaned closer, their presence cold and suffocating.

“Carter,” I whispered, “what is this?”

He finally turned, just enough for me to see his expression. His mouth curved into a faint smile — not cruel, but distant, like he already knew something I didn’t. His mismatched eyes caught mine, and for a moment, it felt like looking into two storms — one of fire, one of endless night.

“Don’t follow me this time,” he said. His voice was calm, almost kind — but it carried a finality that made my stomach drop.

Before I could reach him, the ground split open between us, a jagged line glowing red-hot like a wound in the earth. A low sound — not thunder, not a roar, something older — rumbled up from below. The light poured out, swallowing the fence, the field, everything it touched. Carter didn’t move. He only watched me, eyes glowing in the light, as the shadows curled around him and pulled him into the fire.

“Carter!” I shouted, but my voice cracked, breaking apart like shattered glass.

And then the world went silent.

I jolted awake, my heart pounding like it was trying to break free from my chest. Sweat clung to my skin, sliding down my face and gathering along my hairline. My breath came fast, ragged, until my eyes found Carter. He was sprawled across the couch — one leg dangling off the edge, the other tangled in his robe — his mouth hanging open in his usual half-snore, half-sigh state. The sight pulled a shaky exhale from my lungs, the tension in my chest easing just enough to breathe again.

A soft knock broke the silence. Snow eased the door open, her voice low but firm. “It’s time. The horses are saddled.”

I nodded, dragging a hand down my face to wipe away the sweat. “Got it.” Stepping over to Carter, I gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “Carter. Wake up. Time to go.”

He stirred, eyelids fluttering open, and for the briefest moment my pulse stalled — until I saw them, clear and green, the same eyes I’d always known. Relief washed through me, slow and grounding.

Carter blinked, rubbing his face. “Aw, man,” he groaned, lips curving into a grin. “I was just about to get laid by Sarah Houston.”

I rolled my eyes, tension easing into a laugh I hadn’t realized I’d been holding back. “Figures your dreams are better than mine.”

He smirked, still half-asleep. “Always are.”

“Come on,” I said, grabbing my cloak and heading for the door. “Snow’s waiting outside. Let’s move before she decides to leave us behind.”

I stepped outside first, and the cool morning air hit me like a splash of ice. Mist curled over the rolling hills, drifting in waves through the grass and settling over the fenceposts. The horses stood patiently, their breath fogging in the crisp air, saddles gleaming despite the dim dawn light.

Carter followed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and grinning at the sight. “Not bad for a morning walk, huh?”

I shook my head, pulling my robe tighter around me. “This isn’t a walk, this is a full-on trek into the unknown.”

Snow stood beside the largest horse, black as night with faint red streaks in its mane, reins draped over her gloved hands. She tilted her head at us, expression unreadable, as though weighing our readiness. “Mount up,” she said softly, though the edge in her voice left no room for argument.

Carter swung onto the black and white horse with the grace of someone used to daring stunts, even half-awake, while I clumsily settled onto my gray, my robes tangling around the saddle. The horse snorted beneath me, shifting its weight. My fingers dug into the reins, heart racing in time with the mist-shrouded world around us.

“Stay close,” Snow instructed, her voice carrying over the fog. She mounted her own horse effortlessly, tall and commanding, like she belonged to this world more than we ever could. “The path is not safe, and the land does not forgive those who wander blindly.”

I swallowed hard, glancing at Carter. He caught my eye and gave me a brief nod — half reassurance, half dare — before nudging his horse forward. I followed, the soft sound of hooves thudding against dew-laden grass filling the quiet morning. As we moved deeper into the hills, the mist thickened, and shadows twisted along the edges of my vision. Something about this world felt alive, watching, waiting. My pulse thumped harder. Carter’s emerald eyes glinted in the dim light, a reminder of the dream I hadn’t wanted to admit was lingering in my mind. The journey had begun — and I knew, somewhere deep down, that nothing would ever be the same again.

I urged my horse closer to Snow’s, the morning mist curling around our legs. “So…how far away is this Oracle person?” I asked, my voice barely carrying over the soft thud of hooves on dew-soaked grass.

“A day’s ride,” she replied calmly, stroking her horse’s sleek neck as if the journey itself wasn’t anything to worry about.

I leaned forward, curiosity prying at me. “What’s its name?” I asked, gesturing toward her horse.

Snow shot me a look sharp enough to cut glass, one that clearly warned me calling her horse an “it” might be my last mistake. “His name’s Excalibur,” she said, voice clipped.

“Like…the sword in that one movie?” I ventured.

She tilted her head, expression blank. “What’s a movie?”

I waved my hands, giving up. “Never mind. Where’d you get the name from?”

“An old story my father read to me as a little girl,” she said, the faintest smile brushing her lips. “It stuck with me, so I made it part of my life.”

I reached down to stroke my own horse’s neck. “And this one’s name?”

“That’s Prince,” she replied. “He’s one of my best racers. The one your friend is riding is Wizard — I call him Wiz.” She paused, studying me for a moment, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “You woke up in a…concerned state this morning. Did you have a bad dream?”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah…a dream.”

“In this land,” she said softly, her gaze unwavering, “there are two kinds of messages a person can receive: Dreams… and Visions.” She looked me squarely in the eyes. “You had a Vision, didn’t you?”

I blinked. “What’s the difference?”

“A Dream is fleeting. Vague. You can see things, but you cannot hear them, touch them, feel them. A Vision — that touches everything your senses know. One is a story…one is a warning. A hint of the future.”

I swallowed again. “I…had a Vision.”

Her eyes darkened imperceptibly as I recounted it, every word drawing a shadow across her face.

“You had a Vision,” she murmured, her tone low, almost a growl. “Your Vision means…you and Carter are the Chosen Ones.”

I shook my head, disbelief rising. “Then the prophecy can’t be right. Neither of us would ever turn on the other. Not for a girl, not for a group, and definitely not for some curse.”

“The prophecy was spoken by the First Wizard,” she said quietly, though every syllable carried weight. “He is never wrong.”

“Well,” I said, defiance creeping into my voice, “there’s a first time for everything.”

Her eyes cut into mine, sharp and unyielding. “Your insolence will get you killed one day. Keep your tongue in check.”

I glanced back at Carter, completely oblivious, running his hand along Wiz’s mane, a carefree grin plastered on his face. My chest tightened — the weight of what I’d just heard pressing down on me like the mist settling over the hills. The morning stretched on as we rode in silence, the mist curling around the horses’ hooves and clinging to the edges of the hills. The sun, pale and low, cast long shadows over the grass, painting everything in gold and gray. Snow’s words weighed on me, pressing on my chest like a stone I couldn’t shift. Chosen Ones. The prophecy. My stomach twisted. Carter hummed softly, scanning the horizon with that familiar mischievous glint in his green eyes. His brown hair caught the light in messy streaks, golden at the edges. He nudged Wiz forward. I tried to relax, but a nagging unease lingered, a feeling that beneath the carefree exterior, things could change… dramatically.

“Charlie,” Snow said, her voice cutting through the quiet, calm yet firm, “stay alert. The Oracle does not give its truths lightly. Not all visions are gifts. Some are warnings.”

I swallowed hard. “Warnings… like the one I had?”

She nodded, her expression sharpening ever so slightly. “Exactly. And remember — some paths are easy to follow, and some friends…” Her gaze lingered on Carter for a heartbeat too long. “…may become the greatest dangers of all.”

I turned to glance at him. He was still the same Carter — green-eyed, brown-haired, teasing and familiar. But a chill ran down my spine, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this journey might pull out something in him we weren’t ready for. We reached the edge of a dark forest, the trees looming like sentinels with twisted branches clawing at the sky. Snow slowed her horse, gesturing for us to do the same.

“The Oracle waits just beyond these woods,” she said softly. “What you seek will not be easy. Neither of you will leave unchanged.”

Carter nudged Wiz forward, grinning. “Sounds like an adventure,” he said, his voice light, masking the unknown.

I nodded, though a knot had formed in my stomach. The forest loomed, thick with shadow and mystery. Every instinct screamed caution. Yet we rode in, the trees swallowing the last of the sunlight, and I realized — whatever waited ahead, it wouldn’t just test me. It would test Carter, too. And maybe, just maybe, it would test how far a friendship could stretch before something… else took root.

We urged our steeds onto the barely-visible trail, the path winding us deeper into the shadowed woods. The tension clung to the air like thick, crawling smoke, prickling against my skin. I could feel it in Carter, too—the subtle shiver that ran through his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly. Snow moved with practiced calm, but the slight purse of her lips betrayed the seriousness of what awaited us. Our horses were even more attuned to the unease, ears flicking, nostrils flaring, eyes wide as they hesitated over the twisted roots and uneven dirt path.

“The Oracle’s house is just ahead,” Snow murmured, her voice low, almost a warning.

Ahead, a cottage emerged, older than anything I’d imagined. Stones stacked unevenly, the wood warped and worn, giving the impression it had been leaning against time itself for centuries. We dismounted, tying our horses to a weathered hitching post, and followed Snow toward the doorway. She pulled her hood over her head, and almost instinctively, Carter and I did the same, letting the shadows of the hooded figures make us feel safer, though the chill crawling over my spine suggested otherwise. A clattering echoed from behind the door, then silence. Slowly, it creaked open, revealing an old woman whose presence felt like it commanded the very air around her. Her hair was streaked with gray, one eye milky white, the other a piercing, vivid green that seemed to look straight through us.

“Snow, dear,” she said, a crooked smile pulling at her lips, missing a few teeth, “come in, come in.”

She stepped aside, gesturing us forward, then closed the door behind us with a thud that resonated in my chest. The interior smelled of herbs, damp wood, and something faintly metallic. In the center of the room a cauldron bubbled, releasing a haze that made my skin tingle.

“Now,” she began, circling the table like a predator assessing prey, “you three have questions for me. Questions about the prophecy, am I correct?”

Carter and I exchanged a glance, unsure how to respond, while Snow nodded with quiet confidence. “Yes. These two are the Chosen Ones,” she said, voice calm, certain.

The witch’s gaze swept over us, slow and deliberate, eyes piercing in a way that made my stomach tighten. She stopped in front of us. “What are your names, boys?”

I cleared my throat, trying to steady myself. “I’m Charlie, this is Carter.”

Carter added quickly, “We’re not part of some prophecy. We’d never—”

“Ah, you never truly know anything in matters such as this,” the woman interrupted, wagging a finger so close to  Carter’s face that he leaned back. “No one does—not without a little… assistance.”

Without warning, she turned to the table, cluttered with jars of strange liquids, preserved eyes, and coils of string. A few of the bottles hissed as she poured their contents into the cauldron, steam curling upward like fingers reaching for the ceiling.

“I need a strand of each of your hairs,” she said sharply, her green eye gleaming.

Before I could protest, I felt a sharp tug at the back of my head. “Ow!” I exclaimed, and spun around to see Snow calmly plucking a hair from Carter’s scalp, her hands steady.

“Oi!” Carter protested, his green eyes flashing with irritation, but Snow didn’t even glance at him. She handed the strands to the old woman, who smiled knowingly before dropping them into the swirling, bubbling mixture.

The cauldron hissed, sparks of light flickering along the surface, and the room seemed to lean in closer, as if listening for what would come next. The Oracle’s hands swirled through the air, and with a sudden flare, a blast of white and red erupted from the cauldron, forcing Carter and me to leap back, hearts hammering.

“Come,” she said, her voice low but commanding, beckoning us forward. “See what is written for you.”

Cautiously, we stepped closer, drawn to the cauldron as if something unseen tugged at us. Steam curled upward, twisting like smoke caught in a storm, and the Oracle waved her hands again. The surface of the bubbling liquid shimmered, then rippled, and an image emerged. An orange sky burned overhead, a crimson moon hanging low, casting everything in a sickly glow. Flames licked the edges of the horizon, consuming everything in sight. In the heart of the inferno, two figures faced each other—one cloaked in darkness, the other bathed in a radiant light. When they collided, the cauldron trembled, and smoke billowed, the shapes dissolving into nothingness, leaving a lingering heat that seemed to seep into our bones. The Oracle hummed softly, as if savoring the vision, then lifted her gaze to us. Her milky white eye glimmered ominously, the green one burning with intensity. She pointed sharply at our robes.

“You claim you are not part of this prophecy,” she said, her voice slicing through the room like a blade, “but look what you wear.”

We glanced down. Carter’s robe was black, streaked with veins of crimson like molten fire coursing through the fabric. My own robes shimmered faintly in gold and pale white, delicate threads catching the dim lamplight.

“What…what about them?” I asked, unease crawling up my spine.

“The Gate you came through,” the Oracle whispered, eyes narrowing, “it knows who you are. It knows your Fates. And soon… so will you.”

The Oracle’s gaze lingered on Carter a moment too long, the green of her eye flashing brighter before dimming again. A smile tugged faintly at the corner of her lips — not warm, not cruel, just… knowing.

“Fate is not always kind,” she murmured. “And it never asks permission before setting its course.”

Carter crossed his arms, his usual confidence slipping into irritation. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m not big on being told what to do. I make my own choices.”

The Oracle tilted her head, the sound of the cauldron bubbling louder, like it agreed with her unspoken thoughts. “All men say that… until the world gives them something worth losing.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and cold. I glanced at Carter, trying to catch his expression, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. His jaw was set, his shoulders tense.

Snow cleared her throat softly. “Oracle, is there no other way to know if they are truly the ones?”

The old woman finally turned away from Carter, her gnarled hand hovering over the steam. “You’ll know soon enough. When the sky turns red, and the light battles the dark, the truth will reveal itself.”

“The sky turns red?” I echoed, a chill creeping down my spine.

The Oracle only nodded, her milky eye rolling toward the ceiling as if she saw something beyond our world.

“And when it does, one will rise… and the other will burn.”

Silence gripped the room. The cauldron’s glow faded, the air thick with smoke and dread.

Carter let out a forced laugh. “Well, that’s comforting.”

But his voice sounded different — lower, uncertain. And though he smirked, I could see something flicker in his eyes… something I’d never seen before.

“But I’m merely a half-blind witch,” the Oracle said with a sly, knowing grin, her single green eye glinting in the glow of the cauldron. “I can only stir the pot, whisper to the shadows, and glimpse fragments of what’s to come. But you…” Her gaze lingered on me, then Carter. “You’ll need guidance far greater than mine. Seek the First Wizard — the oldest of our kind. He dwells at the edge of the kingdom village, in a hut the wind itself dares not touch. He will not just show you the path… he will decide if you’re worthy to walk it.”

I wished I could scrub the image from my mind — the crimson sky, the clash of light and dark, the smoke swallowing everything whole. I never wanted to see that future, not for me, not for Carter. The thought of losing him — my brother in all but blood, my one constant in the chaos — to some twisted curse felt worse than death itself. It wasn’t just fear that clawed at me; it was the sharp, sinking ache of knowing that fate had already drawn its line… and we might be standing on opposite sides.