Flynn whirled around. “But those are senseless! Prophecies are senseless! Useless! Propaganda!” he blurted. “You’re not even supposed to know Alexis took the scroll!”

“I didn’t know she found the scroll,” Quintilian said calmly, fingering his staff. A milky orb sat at its top, glowing white. “She only said she knew the prophecy somehow. Interesting she chose the scroll route.” He stroked his beard. “I would’ve tried to use a spell on one of the ship masters, but youth always tend to surprise us, don’t they?”

Flynn groaned and smacked his head against the hourglass. Great, the one thing Alexis told them to keep a secret, and he’d already blown it.

“Ah, I’m sure she’ll forgive you,” Quintilian said with a wink, as if he could tell what Flynn was thinking. The Wizard tapped his staff on the ground, and the entire room lit up with a soft green glow from the orb. “Much better. Green is softer on the eyes than white, you know.”

Flynn watched as Quintilian approached the hourglass and knocked his knuckles against it. Knock knock. “Hmm. Quite solid. I’d say... about a two percent change of breaking it with the kind of magic you can perform.”

“Alexis said three,” Flynn grumbled, now thoroughly hoping the old Wizard would leave him to think in peace. He tapped his foot impatiently, hoping Quintilian would get the message.

But it was Quintilian, so of course he didn’t go.

“Never fear, my dear boy, a Star Wizard never comes without a purpose,” he proclaimed, snapping his fingers to turn the green glow to purple. “Purple’s better for thinking. Now where were we? Ah yes, Esmerelda. I hope you know I am technically not permitted by the Council to give the prophecy to you.”

“Uh huh,” Flynn mumbled, not entirely caring about the prophecy when it was the hourglass he needed to be thinking about.

“I could go to jail, in fact,” Quintilian continued, “For even uttering it.”

“Right.”

“It’s forbidden to even the most sacred council members, you know.”

“Mhm.”

“And,” he added, “It contains very CLASSIFIED information.”

Flynn didn’t look up, agitated.

“Also,” the Wizard continued loudly. “A certain SOMEONE seems to have already wheedled it out of me.”

Flynn went ghost white and snapped to attention. “She didn’t.”

“Indeed she did,” Quintilian’s eyes twinkled. “And as soon as I mention the girl, he perks up. A young man in love, indeed.”

“Just tell me the prophecy,” Flynn snapped, burning red.

Quintilian smiled. “It involves a valiant Hero.”

“It always involves a valiant Hero,” Flynn said impatiently, “And an evil villain and a daring Quest, blah blah blah. I mean tell me the part about Esmerelda. Tell me what she knows.”

The Wizard nodded sagely. He snapped his fingers, and the purple glow turned to a hazy red. Quintilian touched the glass orb atop his staff, a milky gas swirling around inside.

“As you wish,” Quintilian said. “But I don’t think the Hero is who you might expect it to be.”

“And why’s that?” Flynn said, already thinking of the answer—

“The Hero,” the Wizard said darkly, “Is... not you.”

Flynn backed up in surprise. “What?” he said. “Then who...” His voice caught as his eyes settled on the blurry face appearing in Quintilian’s staff. “Oh my God. It’s her, isn’t it?”

Quintilian nodded, his eyes aflame in the red glow of the orb. “Yes.”

“Okay... so.... but that makes me...”

The Wizard glanced at the hourglass, the sand falling through it looking much more ominous. His face suddenly seemed... apologetic.

Quintilian met Flynn’s eyes. “The villian, my boy.”

And suddenly the red glow faltered, and the entire room went dark.