The jewel-studded door into the throne room loomed before me, as imposing as it was gaudy. I drew the Blade of Light, shielded my eyes with my free hand, and stabbed forward. There was a cascade of sparks that indicated failing wards. Probably something nasty; the owner of the castle wasn't called the Dread Lord for nothing.

I sheathed the blade—didn't know a lick of swordsmanship, but it was dead-useful in disabling magic—and carefully nudged the door open with my foot. Honestly, I would have preferred to storm this place at the back of an army, but my party had different ideas. Something about a Prophecy and me being the only one able to defeat the evil. What nonsense. The strongest opponent I'd defeated with my own power was that hellhound I accidentally stabbed in the eye five years ago. Saved a princess, too, and got to freeload in her palace for half a year before my party caught up with me to drag me back into the fray. Good times.

The door swung inward silently, revealing a dark, high-ceilinged hall beyond. Of course it was dark. I had long since found that most people had no common sense—not that I minded. That's what allowed me to cheat, lie, and swindle my way through for so long. Although with this final showdown, the jig just might be up.

Sighing, I checked the potions and wands I had stashed in my jacket and tiptoed inside. Black columns decorated with stone gargoyles stretched toward a vaulted ceiling. The shadows between them were dark and thick, yet no monster jumped out to ambush me. That was a relief. It would be an embarrassment for everyone involved if I got shanked by a goblin before facing my nemesis.

The Dread Lord lounged upon his throne of bones, looking properly evil in his spiky black armor. I came closer on shaky legs, drew my sword, and tossed back my cloak in that way that made ladies swoon.

"Y-your reign of evil ends now, Dread Lord." Damn stutter. Now I had to kill this guy lest it ruin my reputation.

"Chosen One." The Dread Lord rose slowly to his feet. "We meet at last. You've been a constant thorn in my side, but that ends today."

I swallowed and tilted back my head. No one had told me he would be like nine feet tall. "Give it up, Dread Lord. Your armies lay defeated; your lieutenants vanquished to the last." I cleared my throat. "Seriously, give up. I promise you a fair trial and a cozy cell. The dungeon's not much worse than this place, honestly."

The Dread Lord tilted his helmet. "Showing mercy to your worst enemy... You are a hero indeed. Alas, we both know that only one of us will walk out of here alive."

He drew his sword, which was about as tall as me—how was that fair? I backpedaled, holding up the Blade of Light. That black armor was known to be impervious to spells; none of my wands or potions would so much as dent it. The Blade might, but the less said about my swordsmanship, the better. No, the only way I would get out of this mess is the same way I got into it.

I tossed the Blade of Light aside, and it landed on the stone floor with a clatter. The Dread Lord paused in his advance and stared at me. I swallowed under his burning gaze.

"I don't need to fight you," I said with all the confidence I could muster, "because I've already won."

The Dread Lord didn't immediately laugh, so that was good. He studied me for a time, then lowered his sword, which was even better. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked in a low voice.

I squared my shoulders and tried to look as sure of myself as back when I scammed Duke Poppington out of his life savings. "Exactly as you heard. Just as I foiled all your other plans, I foiled you one last time. You're already as good as dead; you just don't know it."

"Impossible! You couldn't have..." The eyeholes in Dread Lord's helmet burned red, and he turned swiftly toward a gargoyle. "Where's my phylactery?"

The gargoyle contorted as something enormous bulged in its stomach, and opened wide its grotesque maw. Inside lay a red jewel the size of a baby's head, pulsing eerily as if it were alive. Gotcha.

The Dread Lord raised his sword and lunged at me with a roar, but I was already drawing my most powerful wand, my heart racing like never before. Even as the gargoyle started closing its maw, I thrust out the wand. A lance of blinding light erupted, taking with it the gargoyle's head, the column, and a stretch of the wall behind it as the wand exploded in my hand.

There was a strange gurgle, and a thud that shook the floor, but I was too busy flailing around blindly to pay attention. Once I finally blinked the red afterimages from my vision, the Dread Lord lay still before me.

I crept closer and poked the helmet with my foot. Nothing. Kicked it. Still nothing; nice ring though. That's when I threw my hands up in the air and cheered.

"Take that! Oh yeah! Another victory for the Chosen One! Ow, ow." Wincing, I pulled a splinter from my bleeding hand. Phew. Pestering that doddering archmage to charge a wand with his most powerful spell had been worth it in the end.

Sunlight spilled through the gap I'd made in the wall, and voices filtered in. Right; my party was waiting for the outcome of the battle outside, useless tag-alongs that they were. I hurriedly picked up the Blade of Light, set my foot on the Dread Lord's chest, and shoved the sword through the breastplate. Just as the first face appeared in the gap in the wall, I plastered a properly heroic expression on my face and tossed back my cloak. Nailed it.

Hey, you! I wanna tell you something before this all gets real ugly. The name's Viper. I'm the one on the left with the glowing sword and very uncomfortable ancient armor. You're probably wondering how I got myself into this mess, and I promise you it was not at all my fault!

Ok, it may have been a little my fault, but on my father's grave it wasn't all me.

See, no one would ever have expected me to end up here; I was a theif, a conwoman, a risk taker, and a flirt. People...tolerated me, but it was only because I was a master of poisons, and they knew I'd be happy to slip a little something in their drinks whenever I worked as a bargirl.

So, obviously, when the sword lit up after aeons and millennia and blah blah blah mystic fate stuff, I decided it'd be fun to pretend I was the chosen one.

Unfortunately for me, the people in this town were far more stupid than I'd anticipated and accepted me as their heroine without question.

Of course, I formed a ragtag group of party members; Rachet the inventor, Aaron the sorcerer, and Katrina the warrior, and they all had their backstories and reasons to join me on this stupid, stupid quest I was now obliged to partake in.

Nobody ever stopped to think that maybe, just maybe the village theif who prefers nightime wasn't the best choice of knight for THE ENTIRE GODFORSAKEN WORLD.

Because, say it with me, people are stupid.

So that's how I ended up in a death match against the very embodiment of death and destruction. It's also why I telling you this now, before I strike, because I genuinely have no bloody clue if I'm going to win this one. But hey, look on the bright side, if I lose he's gonna consume everything and everyone in a neverending blackeness anyway so I'll never have to come clean about all this!

Silver linings, ey?

"Are you seriously kidding me right now? You agreed to 15 points when we started this whole thing. We're a little far down this road to have second thoughts." The Chosen One jabbed his finger into his hand to emphasize the point.

The Dark Lord shrugged, "I'm the one taking on the most risk here. Isn't that obvious? It's not like I'm asking for a lot here, me taking 30 still leaves you with 70."

The Chosen one put his face into both hands and ran his hands through his hair, finally looking up, red-faced, "Why in the hell would you think I'm left with 70 points? Do you honestly think it's only the two of us in on this? Do you know how high this goes!?" He sighed, "Of course you don't, and that's on purpose. Listen, stop being a dumbass. Take your 15 points and retire somewhere nice."

The Dark Lord crossed his arms, "I'm not as dumb as you think I am. I've got you over the barrel. At this moment your guys are out there thinking we're having the greatest duel in history in here. This castle is full of my people. I'm holding the cards. I've got the leverage."

The Chosen one shook his head and sighed, "You have no idea how dumb I think you are. This is your last chance to take 15. That's the easy way. Believe me when I tell you this, take the 15 and be happy with that, or you get nothing and you're going to owe us a lot more than what you'd be getting. I know that you know you're small time, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation."

The Dark Lord stated plainly, "30 or nothing."

The Chosen One shrugged, "You know what? Fine. I've given you every opportunity not to dig your own grave over this shit. All this is costing me is a few more months, and I'm going to end up with what could have been your share. I'm outta here." The Chosen one turned to leave, pushing open the castle doors.

The Dark Lord hadn't anticipated this and reached out, shouting "Wait!"

The Chosen One looked over his shoulder at the Dark Lord, "For what? Enjoy the next couple days as best you can." With that, he walked out.

The Dark Lord raced after him but stopped short. There was a real entire army at his gate. He pulled the doors shut and watched what was happening through the window. The Chosen one walked directly to the General, who dismounted. They had a brief conversation. The General got back on his horse and blew a horn. The army began packing up to leave. The Chosen one looked back and saw the Dark Lord was watching, and held up his middle finger.

Fighting wasn’t my forte. Until I was eighteen, I’d never even had to lift a sword. After all, before all the Chosen One business, I was simply a shop assistant at a rather small bookstore in town. Then, I happened to open the wrong book, and the next second some shady folk in velvet robes were inviting me into their cult dedicated to destroying the “Dark Lord.” Yet, despite appearing wise, they weren’t particularly bright, and my deceptions always fooled them. Whether I pretended to have learnt some ancient magical technique through acting and practical effects; bribed the local bandits to leave; or simply lied that the “ancient evil monster” had died, they never doubted my word. In fact, they even thought I was a prodigy, and there was no doubt I was the chosen one. And, because they didn’t doubt it, nobody doubted it. Like wildfire, news of my exploits crossed the land and soon everyone from the far south to the far north knew my name. By spreading a few lies, I was welcomed to every inn, restaurant, castle, and exclusive club. However, it wasn’t easy: Everyone wanted me to do this and that for them and not doing such things would put my reputation at stake. Therefore, I had to lie some more. I mean, some of my actions were strokes of genius: For example, I managed to remove a troll from one man’s land by using a lure to relocate it to another man's land. The farmer who now had to deal with the troll was so poor he wouldn’t even think of hiring me, so the problem was solved.

Yet, the Dark Lord's power was growing and, much to my dismay, it was decided I would be sent to fight him earlier than expected in order to thwart his plans before he started them. So, within two years of opening that blasted book, I was knocking on the daunting doors of Castle Doom, clutching the “Sword of Destiny” (which I had never used) in my sweaty hands. Then, I was being led through weaving corridors and up spiralling gothic staircases by a grand escort of goblins, trolls and orcs before arriving in the infamous “Egregious Hall.” There, it was extraordinarily spooky, as if I was walking into a living horror trope: The architecture was all built from some sort of black stone, the ceiling was vaulted with pointed arches, golden chandeliers emphasized the creature’s wealth, great cobwebs stretched from the floor to the highest points of the ceiling and malnourished prisoners hung in cages attached to chains coming from the mouths of gargoyles lining the upper perimeter of the hall. Finally, on a throne built from bones was the man himself: The Dark Lord. He stood, revealing his seven-foot figure which, even when covered by a black monk-Esque, robes, still appeared broad and strong. In his hand, he wielded his great blade (“Bone Saw”) , with its serrated blade and strange black metal that sent shivers up my spine. It was then that I realised the dire predicament I was in: I was going to die, or, at best, become the latest edition to the creature's decorations.

He walked towards me, the shadow of his figure ominously tall due to the arrangement of candles in the hall. I stepped back, holding my sword a little higher. Yet, I knew it was hopeless. And then it struck me: It was supposed to be hopeless. I had been sent here to die. That was the only possible explanation. The velvet-cloaked cult must have realised I was a con, sent me to my death, and were probably trying to find a new Chosen One once I died. It was no wonder they sent me here early; They needed more time. I dropped my sword.

“I surrender,” I whimpered, and the Dark Lord stopped dead in his tracks.

“You surrender?” He asked in his hoard, creepy voice.

“Yep, you’re going to kill me anyway, but I’d rather die quickly than in some drawn-out battle.”

The creature scoffed and approached me, looping around me slowly.

“You think I will kill you quickly, Chosen One,” he whispered in my ear.

“Yes, I’ll even pay you,” I responded rather bluntly, as I fumbled in the pocket of my robe, reaching for “coins.”

He paused and that was enough, for I was not reaching for coins.

After all, since the beginning, I was a coward, and cowards don’t fight fairly, put themself in danger, or care about honour. No, since the beginning, I had lied, cheated, and never once fought, so why would I do such a thing with the big man himself?

From my pocket, I drew a poisoned dagger, a blade which swiftly pierced the “Dark Lord’s” robes and dug into his pale, sickly flesh. Suddenly, he lurched backwards and crumpled to the ground. The monsters in the hall surrounding us began to hollow and curse, yet that did not stop their master’s body from turning purple as his skin flaked away in a gust of grey flecks.

I stood back and smiled at my work.

“Maybe I am the Chosen One.”

"Congratulations" said a voice from the shadows."you are the first chosen one who willingly chose to exist as one."

"But I didn't actually do anything I just helped people believe so they wouldn't be stressed out." I said my voice trembling but still confident.

"Don't worry my dude that's not fear you are feeling its excitement for finally knowing who you are. You will get used to it but it will scare others who don't know themselves. Here come have a seat." With that all the shadows vanished, curtains swept away from the windows and the purest light of day flooded the chamber.

"Now to get straight to the point. The chosen one is just a concept, an ideal to live up to. It comes with the benefit that if people even know there is a chosen one they can live their lives free of stress from the.... what do people call them? Boogeymen?" He said while escorting me to a seat at a table that suddenly appeared.

"Okay now down to business. I need to train you to be my replacement. " he said beaming with pride.

"But I don't want to be evil!!!!" I cried.

"No no no, I want to teach you how to be the perfect guiding light for others nothing more. I had to walk the dark path to put warnings for others."

"A guide? Everyone said I needed to be a leader." I said quizzical.

"Leaders don't declare themselves they are chosen by the free will of the people." He said putting a hand on my shoulder. "To be selected you must show them they can walk the path just by the light you shine to clear the shadows from where they don't need to be."

" I think I understand but I don't feel I understand." I said taking a seat at the table.

As I sat down I saw all the villains "defeated" by past heros. Before my eyes they all changed into all the heros from my childhood.

"Sometimes to find themselves people need to have something to fight against when they only needed to believe in themselves." He said with a sad sigh. "The negative energy they create causes us to be corrupted and perverted. Luckily those that give off positive energy don't see us as anything but ourselves. We try to protect them but we are limited in only small changes."

"Like the butterfly effect?"I asked, becoming intrigued.

"Exactly that. If we used full power it would risk breaking the mind of those not accustomed to thinking eons into the future."

"The good news is that no one needs to anymore. We have created a spirit that can locate the negative energy and if not invert it they can at least balance it so people can find balance in life."

With a wave of his hand books appeared in front of everyone seated at the table, except for me. I was given a notebook and quill.

"Welcome to your first day of school. Let me introduce your teachers." With a smile he lifted one hand and the purest sweetest ringing of a bell was heard all across the land. With it peace and harmony spread and the stress of existing faded into happiness.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

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