ORACLE [BNHA fantasy au]

Chapter 8 - Oracle

☆

Wildwood sat, unassuming, at the edge of everything.

The edge of the mountains to the north, the edge of the haunted forest to the south, the edge of the crystalline coast to the west, and the edge of the endless desert to the east... all pressed up against Wildwood, boxing it in neatly.

And if it weren't for their local cryptid, The Oracle, Wildwood probably would've just been another, likely unlabeled, dot on a map. A sleepy town full of sleepy people, existing only for the handful of lost souls who moored there and for the random bystander who wandered through on their way somewhere else.

But The Oracle of Wildwood drew in people from all over The Land of the Rising Sun: fairies, dragonkin, bards, necromancers, wildlings, merfolk, druids... the list was endless. The Oracle turned Wildwood into a veritable tourist destination. Wildwood changed from a no-name village to a hub of culture, business, and rumors.

So when The Oracle stopped taking clients, even for a few days, the town grew overrun by visitors. The inns booked full up, no vacancies. The taverns ran dry of mead and wine and ale. The markets sold out of trinkets and baubles, mostly those decorated with dried flowers, the local specialty of Wildwood's fertile fields.

When the original Oracle died a year earlier, the town nearly revolted.

Now, Wildwood had a new Oracle...

But she didn't want to see anyone. Not when the end of the world weighed so heavily on her shoulders. Certainly not when she'd been wallowing in preemptive grief for the deaths of her friends, what little family she had left, and for all of the strangers she'd never met. And especially not when she smelled worse than her measly attempts at cooking (think outhouse and veer slightly more palatable than that).

"...Miss Sasaki?"

Satomi looked up from the book she'd been idly staring at - attempting to take her mind off of anxiously planning how to circumvent, you know, the end of the world - only to find her loyal guard, Mirio Togata, standing in the doorway of her office. She forced a smile, and used her finger to keep her place in the novel before folding it closed. "Mirio, I've told you a million times to call me Satomi," she said, noticing the steamy mug of something in his hands, "How many more times do I need to insist?"

"At least once more, milady," he beamed. Stepping inside, he held up the cup, and said, "I made you a hot chocolate. Your favorite! Can I come in?"

"Of course. This is your home too," she said. Satomi shifted in her chair, bringing her blanket-covered knees to her chest and finding a scrap of paper to use as a makeshift bookmark. She'd been wearing the same nightgown and emerald cardigan combination for days, but exactly how many, she couldn't remember.

Don't even think about asking when the last time she ate was...

Because she couldn't remember that either.

Mirio handed her the mug once she settled, and stood nearby as she took a happy sip, humming happily and wiggling her cold toes as the warmth spread through her veins. "Is it okay?" he asked. He was glad to see her at least drinking something. She hadn't eaten anything all day - he knew that much. Hot chocolate usually did the trick though.

"It's great, Mirio. Thank you. You're the best."

With her sea-blue eyes trained on him, Mirio knew his cheeks warmed in response. He shuffled, rubbing the back of his neck, something else bothering him too besides the attention. He'd never seen her so... distraught. Distracted. Disjointed. At least, not since her father's death nearly a year ago. She hadn't even done her hair - usually her only pride in her appearance - and just let her long, verdant locks hang loose around her shoulders. Not that he minded. Not at all. In fact, he preferred her hair down. It reminded him of when he'd first moved to the house, back when Sir Nighteye was still alive, back when they were young, back when things were easy...

Clearing her throat, Satomi nodded to the mustard-colored armchair beside her, once her father's, and said, "You can sit, you know."

The idea of sitting beside her like they were equals only made Mirio's cheeks flush deeper and his heart race harder. "I'll stand, thanks," he muttered, stretching his arms up over his head and rubbing his tense face with his fingers.

Think, Mirio! Cheering up Satomi is like breathing to you!

You gotta do something, man!

But instead, he blurted, "Okay! I'll just say it! I think we need to do something about your vision. We can't just sit around with the mopes and hope that the end of the world won't happen, Miss Sasaki. We've-"

"I know."

Nearly a whisper, her soft voice cut him off and derailed his entire train of thought. Mirio glanced down at her as she stared into her hot chocolate, and he sighed, annoyed with himself for not making this easier for her. In a few steps, Mirio knelt in front of Satomi, his hand resting on top of hers. "I know you have a great burden, Miss Sasaki. The gods have blessed you with the ability to see the future. Time alignments are rare... But they aren't always a gift," he said gently, remembering Sir Nighteye's struggles with the power too, "And, unfortunately, you've got a responsibility to the people to warn somebody about what you saw. But I won't let you go alone. We're..." Mirio paused, gathering courage. "We're in this together... right?"

At that, Satomi's head tilted up, her eyes shining with tears. "You mean it, Mirio? You'll come with me?"

"Well, yeah! No offense, Miss Sasaki, but Sir Nighteye basically raised you in a box. You have no gut feeling, no sense of self-preservation, and you have terrible people skills," he pointed out with a teasing smile. "You might be able to swing a sword and fire an arrow, but you'd still be dead in a day. You need me to keep you alive at the very least."

That made her laugh. "No offense taken. You're absolutely right."

He nodded, stomach fluttering with some kind of light at the sight of her smile. "Glad that we're on the same page. Now," he said, standing up with renewed purpose and determination, "What do we need to do to prepare? Where should we head first?"

Satomi's smile faltered, and she looked out the misty window. "I owe it to Wildwood to take care of the customers who've come to see me. After that, we can leave. Between now and then, we'll need to inform the boys up the mountain and Sir Eraserhead of our impending travel plans. Maybe my father's old guards too, and perhaps the innkeepers," she rattled off, watching the spring rain pelt the mud outside. "When we're ready, we'll head straight for Uncle Toshi. He'll know what to do. My father trusted him, and so do I, even if I haven't seen him since I was like, thirteen."

"He is your godfather... and the king," Mirio added, "So, I think that's a wise choice, milady."

A flicker of her smile came back, just briefly. Satomi reached up and traced a looping sigil akin to a dandelion puff in the condensation on the glass of the window, pressing her cool finger to her lips before touching it once more to the icy glass. The pane shivered in its frame, lighting up iridescent for a moment. It settled back into place with a sound like a cough. "Let's plan to leave three days from now, Mirio," she whispered. Her gaze flicked from the sigil to Mirio's deep blue eyes, locking there as she finished the conversation.

"Prepare to never return."