Chapter 1: The Chosen One
My name is Avaris.
This name was given to me by my father.
It's a name that slips smoothly off the tongue, reminiscent of the delicate chime of bells swaying gently in the wind.
It sounds extremely pleasant and elegant, doesn't it?
As if it were chosen not for an ordinary person, but for someone destined for something greater from birth.
Still, within the warm, wooden scented walls of our home, my little sister Anna and my mother usually just call me "Ava."
To be honest, I like the name Ava much more than Avaris.
It feels cuter, more intimate, and carries a warmth that reminds me I'm simply the beloved daughter of a loving family.
But the moment I step beyond the threshold of our home, it no longer matters whether my name is Ava or Avaris.
Because there is another name that everyone in the village, young or old, familiar or stranger, calls me, their voices trembling as they speak:
"The Chosen One."
From the moment I was born, in this isolated village surrounded by dense forests, I have always held a place far different, far more special, than everyone else.
This isn't just childish imagination or spoiled thinking.
It's my reality.
As I walk through the streets, everyone smiles at me, bows respectfully before me, and the sweetest fruits in the market always find their way into my basket.
I could see the deep, almost worship like admiration in their eyes.
Just passing by, even simply waving at them, was enough to lighten the burdens on their shoulders, fill their hearts with peace, and bring wide smiles to their faces.
Because I am special.
I am flawless.
I am perfect.
I am the Chosen One.
But why?
Why does everyone treat me like a miracle?
Honestly, I don't know the answer to that either.
Whenever curiosity gets the better of me and I ask my mother or father, they look at me with a strange glimmer in their eyes and tell me the same story:
That I am the sacred "bridge" between our great god, who blesses these lands and grants us prosperity, and the mortal world.
To be honest, I have never fully understood what they meant by those fancy words.
I cannot even properly imagine what a "god" looks like or what kind of being it is.
But my logic tells me this:
If it is something that all these grown adults, strong men and elderly women, respect and lower their voices when speaking its name, then this god must be someone incredible, fun, and amazing.
And in this entire village, I am the only one closest to it, the only one with the privilege to speak to it.
That thought alone was enough to fill my chest with pride.
One day, wanting to understand this better, I went to Old Chief Marc, whose face was wrinkled with the fatigue of many years.
He looked at me for a long time with those deep, all knowing eyes, then gently patted my head with his calloused hands and spoke of the prophecy:
One day, when that special day meant only for me arrives, I would meet the god in person. And just like the chosen ones before me, I would bring this village into a brand new era of prosperity and peace.
That day, I learned something new and a bit disappointing from his words:
I was not the only chosen one.
There had been others before me.
To be honest, that knowledge left a small crack of disappointment in my heart.
Yes, I was special. Yes, I was cherished.
But it seemed I was not a unique piece in the universe.
Others had walked this path before me.
When I asked Old Marc what happened to them, where they went after meeting the god, and what kind of prosperity they brought to the village, he simply fell silent.
A strange smile spread across his face, one that should have warmed me, yet somehow sent a chill down my spine.
"When the time comes, my little bird," he said. "When the time comes, you will see and learn everything yourself."
∆∆∆
And now, that long awaited day had finally arrived.
The golden rays of the morning sun slipped through my wooden window, leaving a cheerful warmth on my face as they woke me from my restless, excited sleep.
Unable to contain the butterflies in my stomach, I jumped out of bed and ran to the living room, my bare feet pattering loudly against the wooden floor.
My parents were already awake.
The air felt different than usual, not just filled with the smell of toasted bread, but with a heavy, indescribable sense of anticipation.
My little sister Anna sat quietly in the corner of the table.
Her legs swung rhythmically as she played with her food without lifting her head.
Our home, usually lively in the mornings, felt strangely still today.
Not wanting to ruin my mood, I chirped energetically:
"Good morning, Mom! Good morning, Dad! Good morning, Anna!"
My mother turned to me, setting down the cloth in her hand. There was a slightly tense but still loving expression on her face.
"Good morning, Ava," she said softly. Then, with a small laugh, she placed a plate of fresh cheese and black olives on the table. "You seem quite excited, don't you, our little Chosen One?"
I quickly sat down and began eating with great appetite.
"How could I not be! I tossed and turned all night. I kept thinking about what I will say to the god, how I will greet them. I barely slept at all!"
My father cleared his throat and smiled, though his eyes were not looking at me.
"Ah… I understand, my dear," he said.
Then he hurriedly ate the last bite and left the house without saying another word, without even hugging me.
It was strange, but I did not dwell on it. Everyone was probably busy today. After all, it was an important day.
Anna, on the other hand, looked much more upset than usual, almost pale.
Were her eyes red?
Maybe she was jealous of all the attention I was getting.
Either way, I was not going to let my little sister's mood ruin my day.
Today was important.
Today had to be perfect.
I had to stay cheerful.
Hours passed, and the sun completed its journey across the sky, turning crimson.
It was evening.
I was waiting in a dim, enclosed room overlooking the large gathering area just outside the village.
I was wearing a pure white outfit, specially made for today with months of effort.
The fabric felt like silk against my skin, as if I were wrapped in a cloud.
I was spotless. Radiant.
The sounds from outside were clearly audible even through the walls.
Footsteps, whispers, the crackling of wood.
It was obvious the entire village was busy preparing for my moment.
Each passing second behind those closed doors made my impatience grow like a massive wave.
I paced around, fidgeting with my hands.
What did the god look like?
I always imagined a giant man, but what if they were just a child like me?
Maybe that was why they chose me as their bridge.
If so, we could become great friends.
We could play hide and seek, skip stones in the stream behind the village.
Hehe, that would be so much fun.
Just as I giggled at the thought, the heavy wooden door burst open with a loud noise, snapping me out of my imagination.
It was Old Marc.
His face was expressionless, hard as stone.
Behind him stood two of the largest, strongest men in the village.
The dim light made the empty shadows on their faces even more unsettling.
"The preparations are complete," Marc said in a deep, echoing voice. "Chosen One… you may step outside now."
My eyes lit up.
"Really?! Yay!"
Without waiting, I rushed past them toward the door.
I was the most important person in the world, and my people were waiting for me.
But the moment I stepped outside, I froze.
The sight before me was breathtaking.
Almost the entire village was there.
More than a hundred people filled the massive square.
I scanned the crowd.
Uncle Edward who gave me sweets, Baker Franc, the strong blacksmith Oleson, old Aunt Julia.
Martha the tailor, Liam the shepherd, even my closest friend Elara.
My mother. My father.
And my little sister Anna, staring at the ground.
Everyone was there.
But something was strange.
Every single person was dressed in pure white, just like me.
A sea of white illuminated the dark night.
And all of them wore the same wide, familiar smiles.
The admiration in their eyes made my heart swell with happiness.
At the center of the crowd, at the end of a parted path, stood a single object.
A chair.
But not an ordinary one. It looked more like a throne.
It must have been made just for me.
Yet behind it, a massive fire burned, crackling and roaring, sending red sparks into the sky.
Ignoring everything else, I walked forward.
The crowd parted respectfully as I passed.
When I reached my parents, I spun around proudly.
"Mom, look!" I called out. "How do I look?! Do you think the god will like it?"
I smiled, waiting for her usual warm praise.
But she said nothing.
She did not even blink.
She just kept staring at me with that frozen smile.
Not just her.
My father. The neighbors. Aunt Julia.
Even Anna.
All staring the same way.
Something was wrong.
It felt like they were looking at me, but not really seeing me.
Their eyes were empty. Lifeless.
Like glass.
And despite the crowd, there was no sound.
Not even breathing.
Only the roaring fire behind me.
A cold, sharp feeling crept into my chest.
My throat went dry.
I wanted to speak, to ask what was wrong.
Then suddenly, a heavy hand gripped my shoulder.
Marc's icy voice spoke behind me:
"Everyone is waiting for the Chosen One to take their place."
He pointed toward the chair.
Though my gaze lingered on my family, I slowly moved forward under the pressure of his hand.
As I approached, the illusion shattered.
Up close, it was not a throne.
Just a crude wooden chair.
Too close to the fire.
Far too close.
Despite the scorching heat, the cold inside me only grew stronger.
I took a trembling breath.
And under the silent, empty gazes of everyone, I slowly sat down.