THE FRAUD OF FATE

Chapter 8: The Portent Prodigy

The carriage hadn’t even fully groaned to a halt at the edge of the Whispering Ravine before the door was practically ripped off its hinges. Cassian, still basking in the lingering, awkward warmth of Saphielle’s hand, nearly tumbled onto the gravel.

“Master Divinor! Oh, stars above, it really is you! The man who saw the sky fall and lived to tell the tale!”

A young man, barely twenty and dressed in robes three sizes too large for his lanky frame, was vibrating with such intensity he looked like he might actually undergo spontaneous combustion. His hair was a frantic nest of blonde curls, and his eyes were wide, unblinking, and terrifyingly earnest.

Cassian blinked, smoothing his rumpled blue suit. “Uh, yeah. I’m the guy. Do I know you? Are you here to serve me with another audit, or do you have a sandwich? I’d prefer the sandwich.”

“I’m Elsinore! Elsinore Portent!” the boy squeaked, dropping into a bow so deep his forehead hit the carriage step with a resonant thwack. “The Guild sent me! I’m your new intern! Mistress Rosella said I was to provide ‘logistical support and spiritual purity’ for the kingdom’s most… unconventional power couple!”

Saphielle stepped out of the carriage, her face immediately resetting into a mask of cold, professional exhaustion. “An intern, Elsinore? We’re heading into a death trap, not opening a boutique.”

“Mistress Saphielle! A pleasure! A literal, cosmic pleasure!” Elsinore scrambled to his feet, pulling a stack of leather-bound journals from a satchel. “The Guild felt that since your… uh… domestic entanglement is so new, you might need a third party to handle the resonance mapping. To keep the ‘Bond of Fate’ stable, you see!”

Cassian leaned toward Saphielle, whispering out of the corner of his mouth. “Is he for real? He looks like he’s one excitement-leak away from a stroke.”

“He’s a Portent, Cassian,” Saphielle sighed, rubbing her temples. “The Portent family has ‘pure’ sight. They don’t interpret signs; they just see them. They’re also notoriously high-strung because their brains are basically open windows to the universe.”

“Master Divinor, may I?” Elsinore asked, his hand trembling as he reached toward Cassian’s sleeve. “I’ve never touched a void-resonant soul before. Is it cold? Does it feel like the end of a song?”

“It feels like a guy who really needs a bath and a nap, kid,” Cassian said, stepping back and patting the boy on the shoulder. “Look, Elsinore, if you’re coming with us, the first rule is: don’t touch the merchandise. The second rule: if you see a shadow, run faster than me. Got it?”

“I shall document every step!” Elsinore cried, already scribbling furiously. “The hero and the analyst, braving the dark for love and country! It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!”

“It’s a mission,” Saphielle corrected sharply. “Not a poem. Get the gear. We’re moving into the Ravine before the light fails.”

As the trio began the descent into the jagged, mist-shrouded maw of the Whispering Ravine, the air changed. The wind didn't just blow; it sighed, carrying fragments of voices that didn't exist. The purple moss on the rocks glowed with a faint, sickly luminescence.

“So, Master Divinor,” Elsinore chirped, skipping over a puddle of glowing sludge. “How did you and Mistress Saphielle first realize your souls were entwined? Was it during the chandelier incident? Did the falling glass sparkle like the stars in her eyes?”

“Oh, definitely,” Cassian lied, catching Saphielle’s murderous glare. “I looked at her, she looked at the three tons of crystal about to crush us, and I thought, ‘Hey, if I’m going to die, I might as well do it next to someone with such a great dental plan.’”

“Romantic!” Elsinore gasped.

“It was terrifying,” Saphielle snapped. “Cassian, stop encouraging him. Elsinore, focus on the resonance. Are you sensing any fluctuations?”

The boy stopped. His playful demeanor vanished in a heartbeat. His eyes rolled back, showing only the whites, and his skin turned a translucent, ghostly pale.

“Elsinore?” Cassian asked, his hand going to the bronze cylinder at his belt. “Hey, kid, you okay? You’re doing that creepy thing with your eyes again.”

“The weight…” Elsinore whispered, his voice suddenly sounding like two stones grinding together. “The weight of the crown is too heavy for a head made of glass.”

“What is he talking about?” Cassian asked, looking at Saphielle.

She didn't answer. She was watching Elsinore with a look of dawning horror.

“The lineage of the fallen,” Elsinore continued, his body beginning to shake. “A throne of ash. A scepter of lies. The boy who hides in the gutter wears a crown of thorns, dripping with the blood of stars. He is not the shield. He is the wound.”

A sudden, violent jerk threw Elsinore to his knees. He gasped, his eyes snapping back to normal as he vomited a small amount of silver bile onto the rocks.

“Whoa!” Cassian jumped back. “Okay, no more prophecies for the intern. That’s a health and safety violation.”

“Cassian…” Saphielle’s voice was barely a whisper. She was staring at him—not with her usual annoyance, but with a clinical, terrifying curiosity. “What did he just say? A crown of thorns? A throne of ash?”

“He’s high on ravine gas, Saph! Don’t look at me like that,” Cassian said, his heart hammering against his ribs. “I told you, my family was just a bunch of pickpockets and failed stage magicians. There are no thrones in my basement, just a lot of damp laundry.”

“A Portent doesn’t hallucinate, Cassian,” she said, stepping toward him. “They see the truth before it happens. Or the truth that’s been hidden.”

“Well, his truth is broken!” Cassian shouted. “I’m a fraud, remember? That’s my whole brand! If I’m some secret prince of thorns, then I’m doing a really bad job at the lifestyle part of it!”

“Master Divinor… I saw it,” Elsinore whimpered, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Behind your eyes. There’s a shadow shaped like a king. It’s waiting for you to find the Aegis. It’s hungry.”

“Great. Another thing that wants to eat me,” Cassian groaned. “Can we please just find the shiny shield so I can get my gold and go home? I’m starting to hate the outdoors.”

“I’m afraid your itinerary has been canceled, Mr. Divinor.”

The voice was like a blade of ice cutting through the mist.

From the shadows of a massive, overhanging cliff, a figure emerged. Dorian Augur didn't look like he’d just spent the night chasing them through sewers and ravines. His grey uniform was pristine, and the silver rod in his hand hummed with a low, lethal blue light. Behind him, four Inquisitors in heavy plate armor fanned out, their hands glowing with containment magic.

“Dorian,” Saphielle said, stepping in front of Cassian. “You’re outside your jurisdiction. The Guild sanctioned this mission. Mistress Rosella gave us her seal.”

“Rosella is an old woman who has grown soft on sentiment,” Dorian said, his eyes fixed on Cassian. “I, however, am not. I’ve spent the last six hours reviewing the records of one 'Cassian of the Low Quarters.' It turns out, Cassian, you’ve died four times in three different provinces. You’ve been a priest, a tax collector, and a decorated war hero—all of whom suspiciously lacked a pulse once the gold went missing.”

“I’m a versatile actor!” Cassian shouted from behind Saphielle. “It’s called a range, Dorian! You should try it sometime, maybe start with ‘not a total jerk’!”

“The fraud ends here,” Dorian said, raising his rod. “I have a warrant for the immediate arrest of the civilian known as Cassian Divinor on charges of grand heresy, relic theft, and the magical manipulation of a Senior Bureau Analyst.”

“Manipulation?” Saphielle’s voice went dangerously low. “You think he’s manipulating me?”

“It’s the only logical explanation, Saphielle,” Dorian said, his tone softening just a fraction. “You’re a brilliant mind. You wouldn't throw your life away for a gutter-rat unless your resonance had been tampered with. Step aside. We’ll take him to the Spire, scrub his influence from your mind, and you can return to your post with a full pardon.”

“And what happens to him?” Saphielle asked.

“He will be decommissioned,” Dorian said flatly. “The Void-reactive signature he manifested is too dangerous to be left in the hands of a criminal. He will be… neutralized.”

“Neutralized? Is that the fancy word for ‘killed’?” Cassian asked, his grip tightening on the bronze cylinder. “Because I’m really not a fan of that one.”

“Saphielle, move,” Dorian commanded. “This is your last chance to remain a member of the Academy.”

Saphielle looked at the silver-clad Inquisitors. She looked at the yawning darkness of the Ravine behind her. Then, she looked at Cassian. He looked terrified, dusty, and completely out of his league. But he was also the only person who had ever looked at her and seen a person instead of a ledger.

Saphielle raised her staff. The crystal at the tip flared with a blinding, defiant white light—not the soft glow of an analyst, but the harsh, jagged energy of a combatant.

“He’s a fraud, Dorian,” Saphielle said, her voice echoing through the Ravine like thunder. “He’s a liar, a thief, and a coward. He’s the most annoying man I’ve ever met.”

“Then step aside!” Dorian yelled.

“No,” Saphielle said, a small, cold smile touching her lips. “Because he’s my fraud. And if the Academy wants him, they’ll have to go through the most talented Analyst they ever produced.”

Cassian’s jaw dropped. “Saph? Did you just… did you just pick the gutter-rat over the pension plan?”

“Shut up, Cassian,” she hissed, her eyes never leaving Dorian. “If we survive this, you’re paying for my retirement.”

“I’ll buy you the whole damn beach!” Cassian yelled, his heart swelling with a sudden, reckless bravado.

Dorian’s face contorted with rage. “So be it. Kill the fraud. Subdue the girl. Secure the Eye!”

“Elsinore! Get down!” Cassian screamed as the first bolt of blue lightning tore through the mist.

The intern didn’t move. He was staring at the space just above Cassian’s head, his voice a haunting trill amidst the chaos.

“The thorns,” Elsinore whispered as the world exploded into magical fire. “They’re beginning to grow.”