Bearer of the sword

The relentless roar of the waves threatened to engulf the entire kingdom and every village. Darkness was looming, and you were the sole hope to avert it. Fate would propel you toward your true purpose. You would not lead an ordinary life, but instead bring a profound peace to all. "Johnstone, you are... chosen to usher in peace and prosperity. The entire kingdom rests upon your shoulders. Awaken... awaken... unlock your gift!" Johnstone jolted awake from his bed, as if propelled by a powerful force, trembling and shaking like a chameleon on a fragile twig. This vivid vision, more than a mere dream, had recurred several times. Its significance remained elusive, and he possessed little information about who could help him unravel its meaning. He was truly at a crossroads. In the Endo Kingdom, magic was dismissed as mere folklore; no one believed in its existence. The age of magic was considered long past, never to be resurrected. Yet, whispers had spread that magic still thrived in the Xaxa Kingdom. He struggled to connect these disparate ideas, often simply dismissing them. His life had been that of a simple farm boy, guarding and toiling the land. He felt shrouded in the darkness of his own unknown destiny. He moved wearily to the table for breakfast. His mother had been gone since he was five, yet he still vividly recalled her face and the time they'd spent together. Her death was tragic; her body was never recovered. His mother, Juliet, had been a warrior, a sworn protector of King Edward. She fought valiantly during the time of darkness against the Xaxa Kingdom, perishing in the conflict. Even her ultimate sacrifice remained unclear, obscured by countless tales and numerous explanations. Her body was a mystery, nowhere to be found. Johnstone ate his breakfast, never mentioning the visions. He feared his father's reaction, despite the unwavering care his father had shown him since his mother's disappearance. They lived together in a small village near Endo Palace, keeping horses for transport and other animals. They were farmers, working their land for sustenance and a modest income. After a long day of arduous labor at the summit of Mount Hero, peace finally found him. He often ascended there to admire the breathtaking scenery. As the sun descended in the far west, its golden rays bathed the mountaintop, transforming it into a sight of resplendent beauty. He would also go there to watch Princess Emily as she tended to the flowers. He had developed a fondness for her, and he was content with this secret admiration. One day, at the mountain's peak, something shattering occurred. "Holy heavens! What in the blazes is happening?!" Darkness engulfed the peak, and a cold chill ran down his spine. Fear and shock overwhelmed him. A vivid account of an incident his grandmother had narrated suddenly flooded his mind. At the time, he hadn't understood the story, dismissing it as a fairy tale. Now, it was crystal clear, as if it had happened yesterday. "Once upon a time, many decades ago, magic was commonplace. It was used to heal wounds and to sow chaos, for everything, in the end, has its price. Most people possessed and utilized magic. A king decided to eliminate all magic users throughout the kingdoms. The king, wise and cunning, used a trick: he gathered all magic users into a party room that was magically inert." In a collective gasp, all the children, including Johnstone, exclaimed in unison, "Then what happened, Grandma?" His grandmother paused for a moment and continued, "The king closed all the doors and burned them alive." "What?!" one of the children cried. "Yes," Grandma affirmed. She sighed, cleared her throat, and continued, "The ash formed a sword, and that sword was highly guarded to prevent it from falling into wicked hands." "The sword was kept in a secure room, but as time went by, it vanished, never to be found. Only one person can locate that sword and wield it to fight the coming wars. Perhaps the Bearer of the Sword is among you, for prophecy states he would be born in this very village." All the children were left wide-mouthed, a fly could easily enter and exit. He shot up from his dream-like state, filled with fear and shock, drenched in sweat. "Oh, this is just a dream!" he exclaimed. "What on earth is Grandma's 'pep talk' doing in my mind? A fairy tale in my dream realm!" He sighed deeply. "What am I even doing?" he added. The wind whistled, and the mountain grew colder. Confused by the unfolding events, dreams that seemed so real, he decided to push all these ideas aside and simply admire the beauty of creation. Princess Emily was watering flowers in the Endo Palace. She was as radiant as the morning sun, and as industrious as termites despite her royal privileges. She worked tirelessly in the flower garden. The glowing face adorned with gold jewelry and a necklace made her even more beautiful. This sight charmed Johnstone, momentarily relieving him from his terror and agony. Princess Emily was born into a noble family, raised in the palace where she received every support. She was as wise as the tide, with a brown complexion and a graceful figure. Her outfits were always exquisite. He had fallen in love with the princess, knowing it was a hopeless endeavor, but he simply didn't care. He always told himself that good things don't come on a silver platter; they demand sacrifice, toil, and unwavering effort. As he headed down to his residence, numerous thoughts swirled in his mind. The idea of telling his father about the perplexing visions surfaced. Countless strange events had lately occurred in his life. As a strong Christian, he wondered if an angel was speaking to him. The sun was setting in the far west. Darkness was slowly creeping in to engulf the entire land. Owls hooted from the great Endo Forest. He dashed home at breakneck speed. He saddled and fed the horses. "Son, where have you been all this time? I've been waiting for you," his father said. "I know, Father, I'm an adult; I'm turning twenty-one," Johnstone replied. "Okay, go and serve food so we can eat." He went, and the revelation of his destiny was coming. He knew it; he was no simple farm boy but the chosen one. A chill wind snaked through the open door, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and something else... something ancient and powerful. As Johnstone sat across from his father, the flickering lamplight danced across the worn wooden table, but it was the glow in his own mind that truly illuminated the path ahead. The time for dreams was over. The whispers of prophecy, once dismissed as childhood tales, now resonated with undeniable truth. He was no longer just Johnstone, the farm boy. He was the chosen one, the bearer of a destiny forged in ash and fire, and the darkness now encroaching upon the kingdom would soon learn his name. The weight of an entire world, and the promise of a gleaming, magical sword, settled upon his shoulders, ready to propel him into a future far grander and more perilous than he could ever have imagined.