His childhood was turned to dust the second those words poured out of the old crone’s mouth; “There will be a child born at the last moment of sunlight on the year's shortest day. They will take up a sword and finally be the one to kill the king of the North.”

Sixteen years later, Jex holds the regions of his horse as he approaches the gates of Aro. The King of the North’s, Esther’s city. The guards eye him as he gets close, and he readies for a fight. One steps forward, “Are you prince Jex?” she asks.

Forcing his voice, even he answers, “I am.”

She nods, “King Esther welcomes you; I shall bring you to his throne room.”

Jex freezes for a moment; this couldn’t be so easy. Then, as the guard turnsand begins walking, he hurries after her. A young boy steps forward, a stable hand, and in Jex’s jumbled up thoughts, he doesn't think as he hands his horse’s reins to the boy.

Aro was far more considerable than the small town his father sent him to. Riverway wasn’t even a town but a military camp, and he had stayed there all his life. There were no stores; if you needed something, you saw the inventory officer—a grumpy older man Jex never wanted to look at and think about speaking to. This city was utterly foreign to him.

They reach the castle. A looming building that matched his father’s home’s extraness. An older woman holds a notebook and talks to the king when Jex and the guard enter. The woman immediately turns to them, and Jex recognizes her. “Oracle?” he says breathlessly. “Why?” he asks hopelessly.

The women’s eyes suddenly look tired, and she hands her book to the king who stands. She steps down from the throne and approaches Jex. “My prince, how you have grown,” she says softly.

She reaches to hold his face but Jex flitches away. “Oracle,” he takes a deep breath, steadying himself, “they must know why I am here; why do they not kill me?” he asks.

It was childish, begging for answers from a traitor he should kill. She smiles sadly, “Jex, before we do anything, I need you to listen to me. Alright? And I swear this will be one of the first honest things you will hear.” she says. Jex hesitates but nods, so she continues, “There was never a prophecy; it was all a lie.”

All his energy drains from his body, and he suddenly wishes he was sitting. Then, suddenly, hands were on his back, leading him into a chair. Jex is sitting when he realizes the hands helping him belong to the king. Yet he didn't have the energy to do anything about that fact. “What?” he asks.

“What she says is true, young one,” Esther says. “Your father has long wished for my lands and mines, but I never thought he would go this far.”

His whole life was a lie because his father couldn’t put his money before his family. Everything, the training, growing up too fast, the high consent standard for nothing. Prince Jex was no hero; he was a pawn in a war that never existed. Esther and the Oracle promised him a home and a life of comfort where he was free to do anything he wished within reason. Jex listened, shivering with the thought of not being under anyone’s or any prophesy’s control. He knows better, though; sooner or later, war will find him, and maybe, he will welcome it.