The Chosen One

You, boy. Yes, you. My Gods, have I found you? Are you he? Are you... the chosen one?

Speak not, young one, for I know that you are from the scar across your scalp. You are he who was prophesied, who will lead our people out from under the yoke of the Sorcerer King and into a new golden age. You will continue, will lead the rebellion as your parents did before you.

But you already have parents, you say? Waiting for you back at home? Please, child, you jest. Surely you can't possibly believe that those drab, dreary creatures you grew up with could have birthed one such as you? You must have known from an early age that you were meant for more than the gray little lives they led, that you were too special for their world to contain or constrain you. They are good people, to be sure, and they have done their best to raise you, protect you, and to keep you from knowing your destiny until you were old enough to understand it's responsibility, but they are ordinary. And you, young boy-king, are anything but that.

Your true father was a great warrior, perhaps the greatest who ever lived, and he led the rebellion's forces against the Sorcerer King, winning battle after glorious battle in spite of his enemy's superior numbers and dark majiks. Your mother was an elvish queen.

You, of course, know none of this. When they sent you, at birth, to be raised by your “parents” here, on this world, they knew that any knowledge of your true identity before the time was right would only endanger you needlessly. So it was kept from you, until you came of age, and now the time has come to seize the sword and lead the rebellion your true parents began. To lead, and to avenge them.

Avenge? Yes, I'm sorry to say it, but your parents both were slain by the Sorcerer King's assassins. For great men and women make great enemies, and no enemy's greater than the Sorcerer King. Your road will not be an easy one, you must learn your mothers elvish majiks, and learn too to wield the blade your father forged. Many will resent you for arising from nowhere to claim leadership, and it will be a struggle to win their trust. But I have faith in you, child, for I know who you truly are, and what you are truly capable of. For you see, it was I who delivered you to this world to be protected, and it was I charged with the task, when the time was right, of retrieving and training you to take your rightful place as the warrior king you were meant to be.

You cannot, I'm sorry to say, go back to say goodbye to the two who raised you, but fear not, they'll understand. They've known how special you were this whole time, and will be overjoyed to learn that you've been called home. And time is most certainly if the essence. The Sorcerer King's armies are on the move, and we must move to meet them. We must away, and away with the greatest of haste.

Away, to meet your fate.

...in other news, another dead child has been found in the forests just outside of town. The boy, one Antony Johansburg, aged twelve, is the fourth to turn up dead in the first half of this year, and authorities report they're no closer to the killer's identity, nor to determining how the killer is luring these poor children away with him. We'll be back for an interview with little Antony's bereaved parents after these words from our sponsors.