The Boundless Prophecy

Accident was fate misnamed

As she sat in the sea caves, a faint smile graced her lips—a barely noticeable curve that reflected her contemplative mood. Time seemed to lose its meaning amidst the serene atmosphere of the caves, where she often sought solace on a large, smooth stone crafted specifically for her moments of reflection.

The day had begun under the canopy of a stunning plasma-blue sky, but as her thoughts delved deeper, the sky outside mirrored her emotions, growing sombre and overcast.

The first droplets of rain pattered against the leaves, gradually intensifying into a steady downpour.

The rhythm of the falling rain matched the cadence of her ruminations.

She closed her eyes, enveloped in the symphony of raindrops, wind gusts, and the whirlwind of thoughts swirling within her mind. Rainy weather wasn't particularly her preference, yet she endured the elements, finding a sort of solace in the tumultuous sounds around her.

Time seemed to stretch on as the rain persisted, its intensity gradually subsiding. With a slow, deliberate movement, she opened her eyes, revealing their deep black hue. Her gaze fixated on the rain's droplets, observing as they merged into puddles outside the caves, their soft chimes creating a serene, melodic ambiance amidst the fading storm.

She had taken refuge within the sea caves for what felt like an eternity. The way she transformed the caves into her sanctuary was a testament to the years she spent there, reluctantly unraveling memories she had tucked away deep in her mind. It all began with a single piece of rock, polished meticulously until it became a smooth, cold orb—the very stone she now called her own.

The small crater just outside the caves might have been an unconscious creation, formed by her countless footsteps that echoed too often against the earth. The familiar, post-rain chimes served as both a comforting and unsettling reminder of her past.

It was a paradox.

Her feelings toward the old man were complex and conflicted. He had provided for her, yet he limited her knowledge and stunted her potential for greater achievements. Undoubtedly, he was the most powerful of mages, exploring the mysteries of life itself and even altering its course. He recognized her capabilities from the start, and she was certain—perhaps he feared her ascent, dreaded the possibility that she might one day surpass him. She despised him fiercely, even now.

Yet, these sea caves held the memories of their time together, as if she had trapped herself in a place that bore the weight of their shared history.

The sea cave's entrance stood as a silent witness to her past, a symbol of her solitary existence. The kitchen, the rooms nestled behind it, the sanctuaries, and the space where she spent her hours absorbed in reading and writing—all held traces of her life.

The sound of the raindrops transported her back to the painful loss of her parents. Both her parents were scribblers, crafting words for any task hired by the townsfolk. Their work provided her access to a wealth of books and diverse knowledge, sparking her passion for medicine, the evolution of native creatures, the history of the Boundless World, and its mysterious origins.

The crumpled papers strewn carelessly about the floor barely sated her thirst for knowledge. Her parents guarded their precious old books closely, denying her access. Tragically, she lost them in a devastating accident when she was just eight years old.

A landslide claimed their lives. They had promised a celebratory dinner upon completing a months-long project. Laden with bags of food from the market, they walked past the foot of the mountain they traversed daily.

The landslide took them away, burying them under the debris. She learned of their fate only after several days had passed, their absence becoming increasingly worrisome.

The locals murmured quietly—accident was fate misnamed.

With her parents gone, she was left orphaned. As time passed, she realized the need to fend for herself. The sympathy of her neighbours would only stretch so far; she couldn't rely on their kindness forever.

In her desperation, she realized that her knowledge could serve as her means of survival.

Visiting the bustling marketplace, she observed the vendors and traders closely. Finding herself nestled in a deserted alley, surrounded by cockroaches and litter, her sharp black eyes scanned the crowds in the market.

Among the commodities being traded, medicinal plants seemed to fetch the most profit. Some of the herbs and plants being sold caught her eye; she recognized them from the books her parents had carelessly left behind. To her surprise, these plants, worth no more than a single honour gold, were being sold at prices that astonished her.

Determined to uncover the source of these plants, she trailed the vendors. Her investigation led her to a small forest behind her hut, where most vendors procured their medicinal plants and herbs. Armed with illustrations from books, they sought specific plants or settled for lookalikes. Oblivious to the subtle mockery in the smile of the young observer, the vendors paid little attention to her presence.

This discovery proved to be a boon for her. She remembered the values of various medicinal plants and began gathering them. She sold these herbs to mages and vendors, albeit indirectly—few were willing to trust a young child selling directly.

As she earned more from gathering valuable plants, she set her sights on more profitable ventures, even if they carried greater risks and dangers.

One such plant was Fluxwood—a jelly-like purple moss found near the sea cliff in the forest.

Aware of the perils of working with Fluxwood, she had extensively researched its effects before venturing into the forest.

The moss had potent pain-relieving properties but prolonged exposure to its invisible gas could induce hallucinations.

She calculated that she needed just a handful of Fluxwood to sustain herself for a month, providing ample time to read her favourite books at home.

Determining the nearest Fluxwood spot reachable by descending along the rocky path with the aid of a sturdy vine.

She estimated it would take at least thirty minutes to reach.

However, as she descended, relying on the vine and trying to maintain her balance on the slippery rocks, a sense of dread crept over her. Progress was slow, and she realized she might have already inhaled the Fluxwood gas for fifteen minutes. Despite her efforts, she was nowhere near the purple plants, and the clock was ticking.

She glanced up toward the top, pondering whether to change her mind before the hallucinations took hold, potentially endangering her life. Indecision clouded her mind, time slipping by faster than she had anticipated in this crucial moment.

Despite the uncertainty, an inexplicable resolve urged her forward. Steeling herself with a few deep breaths, she resumed navigating the treacherous path, placing her feet on the slippery rocks. After struggling for a few moments, she spotted something...

The purple moss appeared to float in the air right before her eyes. Tentatively, she reached out her free hand to touch it, only to find her hand passing through the floating Fluxwood, the elusive plant slipping further away. Determined, she lunged again, finally making contact with the ethereal substance.

As she revelled in the triumph of obtaining the valuable plant, a sudden jolt at the back of her neck startled her. Dazed from the encounter with the mysterious plant, she refocused her gaze and found an old man with silver-grey hair glaring at her with fiery anger, his hand gripping the collar of her shirt.

"Have you lost your mind? You could have been dead," he hissed, his enraged visage etching itself into her memory.

That was their first meeting, marking the onset of her hardships—days devoid of books, knowledge, excitement, or adventure. A life stripped of everything she held dear, plunging her into misery.