The Legend goes like this:

A Dark Lord will rise.

A Chosen One will rise in turn to defeat them.

And the cycle will continue.

Simple.

--

What happens goes like this:

Soe and Airin arrive at the Lunaris Stadium, early to not get caught up in the crowds.

“...And so they used to be called ‘Dark Lords,’ but now we typically call them ‘Dark Emperors’ even though not a single one has conquered much before a Chosen One has taken them down!“ Airin informs her.

Soe hums in understanding, eyes never leaving Airin’s face. A warm smile graces Soe’s features.

Airin continues telling Soe little facts about The Legend as they wait in their seats.

“I was looking more into the Legend and the original is pretty short and simple, but there have been many accounts from witnesses over the centuries, “Airin pauses for breath and Soe’s smile widens, “Some historians claim that there’s evidence to show that the first Chosen One and Dark Lord had their duel except- something possibly went wrong?”

Airin shrugs.

“No clue what exactly, but apparently it results in a Dark Emperor - or Dark Lord, whatever - rising every century or so.”

Soe frowns.

“That’s fucked up, “she says. And it is. It more than a little fucked up.

It’s one thing to hear the stories of what Dark Emperors of the past have done, but “Two Hundred Thousand Casualties” doesn’t quite seep into your brain juices quite like hey you remember that town right next to yours? yeah well it doesn’t EXIST anymore.

A gaggle of children scamper to the seats next to theirs. A girl kneels on the seat next to Soe’s and glances at Soe curiously.

“Oh!” the girl murmurs and Soe follows the girl’s gaze down to Soe’s hand, twirling the knife with her fingers. Soe hadn’t noticed she was doing that.

Soe gives her an awkward smile. Over the girl’s shoulder, Soe can see three, weary adults follow the line of children. Their parents, probably.

“Your parents let you have a knife?”

Bright, curious eyes blink up at her. Soe’s hand stills.

“Uh,” Soe stares at the girl, “Yeah.” She looks back at Airin - her better half, really - but Airin only watches the interaction with amusement. Obviously no intent in helping Soe out in this.

Well, fuck you too, Soe thinks halfheartedly. Tension vibrates under her skin.

“...It’s not magical, “Soe tells the girl, bringing the knife up to better show the lack of enhancement runes. Then she tilts the knife and trails a finger along the edge. “And it’s not sharp at all. Can’t even get a paper cut from it.”

“Huh, “the girl says intelligently, “Then why do you have it?”

Soe blinks, both at the question and the comforting hand that Airin places onto Soe’s back. She straightens her back.

She begins twirling the knife again, this time faster and more elaborate in her motions. Soe tosses it in the air and catches it again, in a different grip.

The girl - two of them now actually - ‘ooh’ at the little trick.

Then the adults of the group join them and the girls bolt away.

“Mom! Mom!” they call out, excitedly. The three adults - two women and one man - shush them to a lower volume. Soe can’t hear the conversation, but it involved a lot of exaggerated gestures and pointing at Soe.

Soe smiles awkwardly as the adults send her polite and apologetic smiles.

She turns away from the group to stare down at the stadium. Soe wonders if she should apologize for encouraging an interest in knives. The ones the children might ask for might not be nearly as harmless.

“Can’t even get a papercut from it?” Airin teases. It’s not a question.

Soe looks at her and shrugs.

If they were going by how dangerous it could be in a fight, then anything could be dangerous.

But Soe’s knife was dull and magic-less. Probably the thing least likely to kill you here.

The fight that would happen in the stadium below would have weapons a thousand times more dangerous than that.

Soe starts twirling the knife between her fingers.

Peace is near, she reminds herself.