Henry stared at the blade poking his throat, eyes blown wide in confusion. The tip danced over his Adam's Apple as he swallowed. "I don't...I don't understand," he murmured. His gaze drifted up to the man standing before him. "How did you beat me?"

His opponent's lips curled up into a sneer. "Kid, you weren't anywhere near my level."

Henry licked his lips, the taste of iron coating his tongue. "But it was foretold in the scrolls. There was a prophecy-"

"Which was not about you," the older man interrupted. "Your so-called friends fed you a pack of lies."

"But..." Henry's bottom lip trembled, fear taking hold as he began to realize the truth. "But I was the Chosen One." It came out as no more than a breathy whisper.

The sword slid up his throat until it rested under his chin, the cold metal forcing his face up. "You were used, boy."

He was right. Henry knew it, too. Everything he had ever worked for...it was all a lie. He was not destined to save the world. He was not destined to defeat the bad guy.

And he certainly was not destined to be a hero.

His lips pressed into a grim line, as the reality of his fate became clear. His eyes began to burn as they filled with tears. "Please," he begged. "You don't have to do this."

For the first time, the villain's face softened, until it portrayed something akin to sympathy. "I'm sorry," was all he said.

Henry nodded, bowing his head in acceptance.

If he was meant to die, then at least he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

At least mercy was shown; a quick slice along the throat and it was all over.