The sweet taste of caramel and apple melts in my mouth. This is heaven, or at least one of them. As I take another bite, I look over at Penelope, who’s paying for the caramel apples. She insisted that since it’s my first festival, she should pay for at least the caramel apples. Which I graciously accepted. No way I’m turning down free food.

  As my attention turns to my surroundings, I’m stunned. The rows of stalls selling delicious food, the merriment of the children playing some games, and the beautiful snow that falls. Festivals are interesting to say the very least.

  Penelope walks up to me as she takes a bite out of her caramel apple. “Having fun?” she asks.

  “I’ll be honest with you. It’s not bad. Not as good I expected, but not bad,” I say as I finish off my apple.

  She rolls her eyes. “Not bad? Your ears wiggled when I gave you that caramel apple,” she accuses.

  Carefully, I touch the tip of my pointy ears. “They did not,” I [Lie].

  As her eyes wander, she finds something interesting. “Follow me. I’ll show you what the Winter Festival is all about,” she says, walking towards the city square.

  With a groan, I follow. Whatever she’s planning on showing me has to be interesting at the very minimum.

  As I enter the square, I’m graced with the sight of a white dragon. My immediate fear response kicks in, and I just about book it as far as I can, but then I take a closer look. The dragon shimmers as a human walks through it. Not too far away, children gather snow as they pelt the illusion with snowballs.

  “What in the hells?” I ask, still a bit wary.

  “It’s illusion magic. The Winter Festival always hires people who have access to [Illusion] magic. They whip together beautiful illusions to get into the winter spirit,” she explains as she points to other illusions.

  Other than the white dragon, there’s also a beautiful rose, some large animals I don’t recognize, and an illusion of a mountain. Interesting, to think that you could use magic in this way. The children laugh as they continue to pelt the illusion with snowballs. The magician who created the dragon also makes it bring forth an icy breath.

  “That is cool,” I say as my eyes land on another illusion.

  The illusion is of a human woman with red flowing hair, brown eyes, and a suit of armor. The suit of armor also bears the crest of a deer and the colors of the imperial family. I know it’s just an illusion, but she looks so real. Alive.

  Penelope catches me as I stare at the woman. “You okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah… Who is that?” I say, gesturing at the woman.

  Penelope smiles. “That’s Amara Sylvian, The First Chosen One.”

  “Sylvian? Guessing you’re related?” I ask as I turn my attention away from her.

  “You really don't pay attention when we’re in history class, do you?” she asks.

  “I would if it were more interesting.”

  “Yes, she’s my ancestor. She’s also the founder of my family,” she says, pulling herself away from Amara’s visage.

  “Coolio. Anything else you want to show me?”

  Penelope takes a long blink. “Aren’t you going to ask about my family or our history?” she asks, confused.

  “Do you want to ask those things?”

  “No, it’s… just… uh, nothing. Let’s go check out some of the games they have,” she says, leading me to some of the stalls.

  That was weird. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so… stunned for words? I thought it was impossible. What did I do? It has to be something I did. After all, I am The Chosen One.

  Penelope stops in front of a stall and stands there triumphantly. The stall consists of a single Dwarven man, a big block of ice, and an oversized hammer.

  “This is one of my favorite games to play at the festival. It’s called ‘Break The Ice’. It’s a simple game of strength. You just take the hammer and swing as hard as you can,” she explains with glee.

  “Seems like a very you game,” I say as I hand the Dwarf a copper coin. “Why don’t you give it a shot?”

  Penelope grabs the oversized hammer and readies herself. Her feet and hands shift into a more favorable position. Then, in one fell swoop, she swings the hammer straight into the ice. The ice cracks in multiple places, leaving a spider-like pattern across. The Dwarf gives her a proud nod.

  With a smug grin, she turns to me. “Soon, I’ll be able to shatter that block of ice like an egg. Why don’t you give it a shot?” she asks.

  “Oh, no thanks. Doesn’t seem like my type of game,” I say, trying to avoid embarrassment.

  “I thought I would never see the day, but I understand. You’re just scared to lose against me,” she says with a knowing smile.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Ok. Listen here, I’m not scared of losing. I just don’t want to ruin your fun,” I [Lie].

  “I bet you wouldn’t be able to leave even a crack in that block of ice.”

  “You’re on,” I say, handing the Dwarf another copper coin.

  With confidence, I grab the hammer and swing it hard. As I do, I lose my balance and miss the block entirely. I instead hit the cold, hard ground. A tang of pain reverberates up my arms as I stand back up. The Dwarf gives me a disappointed look, and Penelope tries to fight back laughter.

  “Are you okay?” she asks between snickers.

  “Yup, nothing hurt. Other than my pride,” I whisper the last part to myself.

  Penelope then gives me a wide smile as she realizes she’s won the bet. “I guess this means you owe me something.”

  Rolling my eyes, I respond, “Technically, it does. What would you like?”

  Penelope stands there for a second as she rubs her chin. She’s going to ask me to leave the school or tell her the truth on whether or not I am The Chosen One. I can just feel it.

  “Tell me something true about myself. You can choose what? I just want to hear something true,” she says seriously.

  Caught off guard, I don’t immediately answer. “... Uh, well…” I say as her green eyes pierce through me.

  Something true? What is the truth? Yeah, now seems like the time to get philosophical. I could tell her my name, but I could see her getting mad about that. From that same vein, my age, [Level], race, and hair color are out of the question. What exactly can I tell her without giving away that I’m not The Chosen One?

  “I used to live in the nation of the sands,” I say nonchalantly.

  Her eyes go wide. “Wait, I knew you descended from the east, but you actually lived there?” she asks.

  “I would answer that, but I’m no longer obligated to.”

  “You can’t just tell me something important like that and not follow up on it,” she says, incredulously.

  “I can and I will,” I say as I walk away.

  “Wait a minute,” she persists.

  Walking, I notice a human man calling out to people to play his game. It’s a simple ‘Find The Ball’ scam. This could be an opportunity.

  Stopping abruptly, I turn to her. “Ok. I’ll tell you what. If you can find the ball three times, I’ll answer another question of yours. If you can’t, you drop this. Deal?” I ask.

  Penelope's eyes narrow. “Deal.”

  Turning to the man, I toss him a copper coin. “Give her the ‘Dwarfs Beard’,” I say with a devilish grin.

  The man gives me a knowing look. “Are ya sure? She a bit uptight for the ‘Dwarfs Beard’ ain’t she?” he asks.

  “Just do it.”

  “What’s the ‘Dwarfs Beard’?” Penelope asks.

  “I’d be less worried about that and more on where the ball is,” I say as I gesture to the cups.

  With fluid motion, the ball disappears and reappears under the cups. Left. Right. Center. Right. Left. Center. The ball bounces between cups before finally settling. With a grin, Penelope points to the center cup. The man lifts it to reveal the ball.

  “This is easy,” she says.

  Starting the second round, the man goes faster as the ball can barely be seen as it flies between the cups. Penelope's eyes dart between the cups until they finally settle. With a bit more hesitation this time, she nods to the right cup. The man lifts it to reveal the ball.

  “Get ready to answer my question,” she says as she lets out a sigh of relief.

  The third round begins as soon as she finishes talking. At a speed that is truly impressive, the ball disappears from sight under the cups. Not settling for even a second, the cups slam onto the wooden board, creating a rhythm that’s reminiscent of the clopping of horses. Penelope's eyes dart from cup to cup, trying to keep track of the ball. With one final slam, the cups settle, leaving her to find the ball. She swallows hard as she looks between the center and right cups. Seemingly guessing she nods towards the right cup. The man lifts it to reveal not a single ball.

  Penelope stands in disappointment with a dejected look. “I’ll drop it, but what’s a ‘Dwarfs Beard’?” she asks.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say as I give the man a wink.

  “I’m going to choose to ignore that. Well, let’s get going, or we’re going to miss the show,” she says, suddenly gaining back her usual self.

  “What show?” I ask, genuinely confused.

  “Did I not tell you about the show? It’ll be easier to show you,” she says, leading the way.

  Following her further into the city, I get a good look at the capital. It’s not much different from back ‘home’. Same streets, same dark alleys, same people. The only difference? It’s much bigger. One could live in a different alley every night and not repeat any of them before the year's end. Not that bad, but with more space comes more people. I can just imagine how many people are crammed in here.

  Penelope stops as we reach a full city square with a large wooden platform on it. “Watch and learn. This is what the Winter Festival is all about,” she says proudly.

  The curtains on the stage pull back to reveal a woman in a red wig and fake armour.

  “This is the story of how The First Chosen One defeated The Great Evil,” the narrator says. “A long, long time ago, the world was in chaos. The Gods had left the mortal plane, and without their guidance, we faltered against the force of evil. Many a tribe was wiped out, and some even defected. Things seemed dire as The Great Evil marched its way across the continent, but one woman chose to stand between the forces of evil and the innocents of this world.”

  “I am Amara Sylvian. In the face of evil, I will not falter, I will not bend, and I will not break. So, I beseech you, Gods of the realms above. Answer my prayer and give me the strength to choose how I die today,” the actress says as she takes a knee.

  A small orb of light descends from the ceiling of the stage. “We, your Gods, have heard your prayer and give unto you our [Blessing]. Go forth, our Chosen One, and choose where your story ends,” the floating orb says.

  The actress then stands with a glowing sword and sends forth an attack of light. As she does, I feel a tug at my belt and turn to see mine and Penelope's coin pouches gone. In the distance, I catch sight of a foot as someone runs around the corner into an alley.

  Great. Now I have to go and deal with that. Damned amateurs. Can’t even pick a pocket.