Voice of Omens

By Vern Carson

“Vox!”I am lying in a pool of blood, my own and many others’. I gaze longingly into its churning depths, murky, yet filled with an almost supernatural clarity. Flecks of dust swirl within, whisking me on a journey through the stars. My eyes track one, reveling in its carefree dance. Orange reflections flicker over the surface, casting a stage for the star’s show.I am staring into hell.

“Vox.”I turn away from the slumbering village hiding along the mountain ridge below, meeting familiar eyes peering at me against the backdrop of the twin moons. His weathered robe covers all else. “You should not be here,” I say. I’ve never asked his name, nor has he ever offered it. “Luck was on your side, many seasons ago. She may not favor you now.”I sense he is not here for the village and its impending fate. His gaze remains steadfast on me. “You mustn't.” He was but a boy the last time he spoke to me; his voice now carries the wear of old age. “You needn’t.”A tug in the back of my mind forces my attention back to the village. It is near. Perhaps too near. “It is my purpose,” I mumble, to nobody in particular.“Your burden is beyond what humans can bear,” he says. I’m unsure if he heard me. “Save yourself, if only once.”

Somewhere behind me, something explodes, pulling me from my reverie. I don’t hear it so much as feel the shock course through my body. My ears have yet to heal, but the biggest wound is already closing, expelling the shrapnel. If I stay here, I’ll only encounter more.Screams and flames fill my ears as I drag myself to my feet. Nearby lies the sword the townspeople attempted to execute me with. The guardsman had gone missing a week ago, leaving his equipment behind. I pick it up. It will serve me well.My vision flickers. “Damn,” I mutter as a prophecy screams through my mind, the events of the next fifteen seconds embedding themselves in my head.The moment I recover, an atroglyph finds me. I hear it round a corner ahead of me, the chattering of its joints revealing its position. Then the noise stops. I can tell it’s evaluating me. A chill goes down my spine. Something invisible shouldn’t be this intelligent.Then it charges. I don’t stand a chance in normal circumstances. Atroglyphs are beyond fast. But these circumstances are anything but normal.I take a single step back when it swings its blade, the wind biting at my throat. Before it can register what happened, my blade takes its head off. The moment it dies, it becomes visible, the glowing green runes carved into its stone skin fading as it collapses.I stare at the body for a moment, an unsettling emotion coursing through my body, though not for the first time. If I can change my own prophecies, why not those of others?

“Vox.”It’s too early for other patrons in the tavern, but the tender is behind the counter anyway as I walk in. She doesn’t sound happy to see me. Few are. I hold her gaze, saying nothing, neither with my words, nor my face.Her jaw tightens, and a burn scar briefly reflects the meager light in the building. “You should not be here.” Her voice shakes the tiniest amount. For what reason, I do not know.“I came to deliver a prophecy,” I respond.BANG. Her fist slams down on the bar, rattling the bottles underneath. “I don’t want to hear it,” she hisses. “I don’t need to know how we’re going to die.”My brow furrows. “Please…let me try to stop it,” I beg. “We –”“Vox,” she interjects, with enough venom to freeze me in my tracks. “Have you ever prevented a prophecy?”My gaze drops to the floor. “None that matter.”

Catching atroglyphs alone and off-guard is no easy feat, even for seasoned warriors, but has for me become second nature. Without fail, Vox Ominum activates for each encounter with one, and I’ve abused this for centuries to close the gap in ability. Tonight is no different, dispatching one after another. Yet I am unable to make a proper dent in their numbers, creeping between burning buildings at a painstaking pace.I have yet to find anyone alive. Too many bloodstains dot the village for the number of corpses strewn about. The bodies I do find are mangled beyond recognition, many missing pieces their killers wanted for upgrades.I try not to let yet another failure get to me. Emotionally, not difficult. I’m used to it. Hundreds, possibly thousands of tries before have ended just like this. An uncountable number of seasons of suffering. Lately, I’ve begun to wonder what kind of person this is turning me into. I’m not sure if I want to know the answer.My vision flickers, and my blood runs cold. I see a boy and a girl, huddled in a wardrobe, moments before being torn apart by a patrol squad. When my vision returns, I find myself in front of the house in the prophecy, mercifully untouched by the flames.I’m uncertain where the atrogylph patrol is. Fighting multiple at a time is a death sentence, but I likely have no choice.I’m no stranger to death, anyway.

“Vox!”A voice calls from the depths. It’s familiar, yet I’m certain I’ve never heard it before.“Vox.”A comforting warmth rolls through my body. I don’t know where it is, but I can feel it.“Vox?”Don’t look at me. Please.“Have you forgotten?”No. Never.“Will you cease?”I’m powerless.“Will you cease?”Something has to give. I’ll break fate itself if I have to.“Will you cease?”I turn. A pinprick of light greets me in the distance. I grin.“Will you cease?”Never.

I’m hoping they haven’t learned to like mountains. I no longer have a sword to fight them off if they chase us, or an arm to swing it with.I can tell the kids are at their wits’ end listening to my wheezes echo through the cave. They’re soaked in my blood, but otherwise relatively unharmed. I breathe a sigh of relief. It comes out as a croak.They don’t make a sound, instead huddling together more tightly. The shine a child’s eyes should have is present in neither, each staring somewhere beyond me.It doesn’t take long to consider our options. We have no supplies, and I’m in no position to take care of anybody. Rather, I need the opposite. The holes through my torso are thoroughly incompatible with any form of life I know of.“Leave me,” I grunt. “Get to safety. I’ll catch up.”I have to reaffirm twice before they listen.They barely spare me a glance as they bolt, survival instincts winning over, eager to get as far as possible from the hell that erupted in their home.That’s fine.I grunt as I lean back against the wall, surely leaving deep red stains. Like dust, this moment will be swept away, forgotten as I carry on, one death amongst countless. Even the pain scatters with every breath, as though washed away by the blood streaming from my wounds.For now, I close my eyes and get some sleep.