The price of the destination

Fate is a strange thing. Some see it as an invisible force guiding our lives, while others believe we shape it with every decision we make. If you confess to someone you know doesn't reciprocate your feelings, your fate will be rejection. But sometimes, fate mocks us, bringing public humiliation or consequences we never could have imagined. As you grow older, the control you have over your destiny seems to shrink, though it never disappears entirely.

And when you least expect it, your life can take a turn in a direction you never would have chosen.

"Alejandro, in all my years as a fortune teller, I have never seen anything like this."

The fortune teller's voice was deep, almost trembling, as she stared into the bottom of the teacup she held in her hands. In her visible elven ears, faint particles of magic shimmered, the remnants of her prediction. Her barely visible face reflected a mix of surprise and fear.

"You have only one destiny," she continued, slowly raising her gaze to Alejandro, who watched her in silence. "No matter what you do, your fate is to meet Elsa Santillan III."

The air in the small room suddenly grew heavy, as if every molecule understood the gravity of what had just been revealed. Alejandro felt a chill crawl down his spine. Having only one destiny… it was almost a sentence, especially with Elsa, the heir to the throne, who was said to have been responsible for the murder of her siblings in that tragic event where only she had survived.

"What does that mean?" he murmured, though he already had an idea.

"It means that even if you try to stay as far away from Elsa as possible, sooner or later, you will meet her. It is inevitable."

The silence that followed was unbearable. Alejandro searched the elf's eyes for any trace of doubt, something that might suggest she had made a mistake. But he found nothing.

"This is incredible," she said, more to herself than to him.

"What do you mean?" the young man asked, narrowing his eyes.

"You don't seem to understand." She paused briefly and stood up to pour another cup of tea. "No matter what happens to you, if she perishes, you will as well. If you suffer, she will be happy."

The old woman watched him in silence, letting the words hang heavily in the air. Anguish gripped Alejandro. If I suffer, she will be happy? And if she dies, am I also destined to die?

This must be a joke. It can't be this cruel. Alejandro took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of thoughts threatening to consume him. But no matter how much he tried to rationalize it, the fortune teller's words etched themselves into his mind with an unsettling certainty.

Fate was not something one could escape.

"Do you want to know more about your future?" The fortune teller's voice broke the silence with an eerie coldness, as if she did not share the weight of the revelation she had just made.

Alejandro looked up. For a brief moment, a spark of hope shone in his eyes. Perhaps not everything was lost. Maybe, somewhere in this cursed destiny, something good awaited him. Maybe he would even end up marrying Elsa, as absurd as it seemed.

"Can you see more?" he asked, almost in a whisper, as if fearing the answer would shatter that small glimmer of hope.

The old woman did not respond immediately. She simply nodded and leaned forward, searching his gaze for any trace of despair.

What a shame, boy. The fate you carry is undoubtedly cruel, she thought.

A small tea leaf floated in front of Alejandro. As the seconds passed, his eyes began to feel heavy, and exhaustion slowly overtook him. Darkness surrounded him, and as if awakening from a dream, he found himself there—just a mere spectator in a body where he could do nothing but observe.

Footsteps.

Rain poured heavily onto the cobbled streets, joining the crowd that had gathered in the town square. The droplets bounced off the cold stones, forming small puddles that reflected the shadowy silhouettes of the people eagerly awaiting the event of the day. Today, it would all come to an end.

The sound of the crowd's footsteps, mixed with the relentless patter of the rain, filled the air with a sense of anticipation. The faces of those present were illuminated by a mix of satisfaction and hatred, each one eager to witness the conclusion of the long-awaited story.

Before them, in the center of the square, stood the execution platform—an imposing reminder of the days of terror that would soon become just a bad memory. Everyone knew what was about to happen.

"The day has come." A voice rang out among the crowd, strong and resolute. "After all this time, we have emerged victorious. And here is our reward."

"Long live!" someone shouted, followed by more voices rising in fervor.

"The tyrant has fallen, thanks to the hero. It is time for her judgment."

The cries of approval intensified as the crowd pressed forward, filling every corner of the square. On the platform, the woman who had once ruled with an iron fist stood tall, her silhouette barely visible through the rain. Her hair, soaked and clinging to her skin, had lost its former luster. Her once-beautiful face, immortalized in paintings, now meant nothing.

Elsa Santillan III, the woman who had been feared and hated by so many, was about to face her fate.

The so-called "National Blade" loomed over her, waiting for the moment when the rope would be released. It had been created specifically for this occasion—a symbol of justice and liberation for those who had suffered under her tyranny.

The crowd's eyes were locked onto her. The tension grew. The moment was near.

Elsa, with a calmness that unsettled the onlookers, lifted her gaze to the gray sky, allowing the raindrops to fall onto her face. Her expression showed no fear, no regret. Only serene acceptance.

The hero who had defeated her stood at the front of the crowd, his sword still hanging at his side, though he no longer needed it.

"It's over," someone murmured among the crowd, and those words seemed to echo in every mind.

The executioner stepped onto the platform, his figure shrouded in a dark cloak that shielded him from the rain. He approached Elsa slowly, but she did not look away from the sky, as if she had already transcended the earthly realm.

And then, without further preamble, the blade fell.

Moments later, as if by coincidence, a rock fell from the sky, striking Alejandro and ending his life. But without a doubt, it was no coincidence. It was the inevitable fate.