The sun was already high when Ash woke up. The servants told her that the queen and the princess were out for the day. 

Ash wandered into the palace and found the library. 

The first thing that struck her was the large map hanging on the wall. It showed a large elliptic land with a peninsula protruding from its north-western edge. 

This must be Joyia. And this town on the far western corner should be Atinama, where we are now, she thought. 

She spotted the mountain chain and the thick forest they had flown over the day before. On the southeastern end of the mainland was a large city that sprawled around a wide bay. She ran her finger along the canvas. 

“So this is Xantax, home of the bad guy,” she mumbled to herself. 

Below the framed map was a half-meter-wide rectangular table made of pink marble. On top of it was a book with a thick brown leather cover and golden writings carved on it. 

She cautiously flipped through the pages. She couldn't read the language so she focused on the illustrations. 

One of them portrayed a woman who resembled Teshbi, the goddess. She recognized her light purple hair. She was speaking to a scowling man with long silver hair and angry ruby eyes. Her hands were joined in a pleading pose. Below them were dozens of corpses floating in the water. In the background was another brown-haired man standing on a cloud in the sky, his topaz eyes filled with shock. 

“This is Hamun, the god of discord and war.”

Ash jumped and turned around. A small old servant stood behind her, hands clasped behind her back. She walked to her side and pointed at the fierce-looking man with silver hair. 

“He was once given the powers of Asman, the king of the deities and god of the sky.” She slid her wrinkly finger to the brown-haired man on the cloud. “For seven days, Hamun plagued the land with droughts, floods, thunderstorms, blizzards, and cyclones.”

“Why did he do that?” Ash asked candidly. 

The old woman laughed and wheezed. “For his own amusement. Hamun gets bored easily. That’s why this god likes to create dissent. He finds it entertaining.”

“And I guess this is where Teshbi begged him to stop?” She pointed at the imploring deity. 

“She did. But by doing so, Hamun’s anger only grew bigger.” She flipped the pages to the next illustration. “That’s when he descended to Kengir to poison the hearts and minds of humans.”

A handful of men were gathered around the god of discord disguised as a vagabond. He was shown whispering in some of the men’s ears. Empty cups were lying on the ground. A dark mist was surrounding them. Black clouds were gathering in the background. 

“Hamun told them to forsake their faith in magic and in the deities and claim the power that was rightfully theirs,” the servant explained. “A few years later, these men founded Melancholia. They massacred anyone who disagreed with their views.”

She turned to the following illustration that showed people being slaughtered by the hundreds. Ash recalled the vivid scenes from her dream. She could almost taste the blood that covered the battlefield just by looking at the picture. She gulped. 

They spent the rest of the day talking about the battle, and how Teshbi and her nymphs helped thousands escape to this peninsula. 

Ash listened eagerly throughout and asked many questions. 

That night, Ash was sitting by the fire in her chambers, marveling at one of the books she had brought back from the library. The air grew cold. She shivered and huddled under the pelts. 

The flames flickered. 

Suddenly, she felt a gloved hand cover her mouth. 

Adrenaline surged through her body. She instinctively screamed and flailed. The book slid from her lap and fell loudly on the floor. 

Then, she caught a glimpse of a masked man looming over her, knife in hand. 

She jumped off her armchair in a flash. As she did, her foot got caught in the thick carpet. 

She stretched her hand and grabbed the first thing she could catch. It was the tapestry hanging above the fireplace. 

She dragged the fabric with her as she fell, and with it, the heavy bronze mace that was fixed next to it on the wall. 

She heard a loud thud following the sound of her own fall. 

She slowly rose to her feet, her eyes locked on the silhouette of the unconscious man lying next to her. His imposing body was entangled in the tapestry. His mask had fallen off, revealing an unshaven face with a long pink scar that ran between the corner of his eye and his upper lip. 

Ash skidded away from him, panting. She picked up the mace and kicked his knife away. Hesitantly, she nudged him with the tip of her foot and readied her weapon. She waited but he didn't wake up. 

She tied up his wrists and ankles. Then, she grabbed him by the collar, shook him, and slapped him in the face. No reactions either. 

What kind of an assassin is that? she thought.

She went to fetch the pitcher and splashed water on his face. The man gasped and cowered. 

Ash was holding the mace above his head. “You have five seconds to tell me who sent you before I crack your skull open.”

“The queen! The queen sent me! Please, have mercy!”

She cocked her head and frowned. That was easy.

The man revealed everything with a whiny voice that didn't match his menacing looks. His name was Ushar. He was a farmer. He had been hired by the queen and her advisors the day before. He never thought that the injury he got while laboring the fields would’ve gotten him such a well-paid job. 

He was to pretend to try and murder her to assess if she really was the Chosen One. 

“This isn’t even a real knife!” 

Ash picked it up. It was a retractable blade. She snickered and shook her head. She untied him. 

Ushar thanked her several times for her mercy and bowed low before leaving her chambers. 

Queen Gidri and her advisors had been waiting by the end of the hallway. They saw the towering farmer disguised as an assassin limping away, rubbing the back of his head. 

They looked at each other in approval. Ash had passed the trials. 

She was indeed the Chosen One.