"You knew!" Nedrick snapped, jabbing an accusatory finger at Prince Alistair. "You tricked us!"

Alistair shrugged, barely looking up. "Tricked? Please. I'm far too elegant to trick. I merely... didn't clarify."

"You said there was a dragon, and a prisoner, and—!"

"And was there a dragon?" Alistair gestured vaguely. "Yes. Was there a person in a tower? Also yes. I didn't say anything about princesses, beanbag chairs, or eligible romantic subplots. I don't discriminate. Rescue is rescue."

"But there is no rescue!"

Alistair shrugged again. "That remains to be seen."

Nedrick made a sound like a kettle beginning to boil. Lucian, meanwhile, was staring at the princess with his mouth slightly open.

"So, uh," he asked, cautiously, "what's your name?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just Nell is fine. Princess, adventurer, trapsetter, crossbow hobbyist, and—until very recently—bard-stabber."

Nedrick blinked. "Sorry—bard what?"

"Long story," she said. "Short version: never let someone rhyme 'moonlight' with 'wombat.'"

Nell strode over to the closet door (which, up until now, had been quietly rattling) and yanked it open.

Thunk.

Out rolled... a man.

Or something man-shaped, at least.

He was rather short, wearing an eggplant-coloured pointy hat with a wide brim and floppy little yellow ears sewn on, his entire torso bound tightly with rope in an impressive knot. His wide, luminous eyes were lilac-purple, staring out from above a mulberry-coloured veil that covered the lower half of his face.

"Behold," Nell announced, "the Nymbricae I kidnapped using thirteen bear traps, two riddles, and a cursed sandwich."

Lucian and Nedrick gasped, horrified. As one, they exclaimed, "You captured a Nymbricae!?!"

Alistair, on the other hand, examined the man like he was trying to remember which wine paired best with divine mystery. "Ah. It is you."

The Nymbricae just smiled sweetly. "Hello again, Al!" he said good-naturedly behind the veil. "You look healthy."

"I knew it was you," Alistair said, preening. "Even bound and dusty, you're unmistakable."

Nedrick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can someone please explain? Why there is a cosmic being in a closet, why does he look like a regular schmuck, and how does Alistair know him?"

"I've been tracking his trail for a while," Alistair admitted. "I followed signs of his travel, which all abruptly ended at the border of Princess Nell's land," Alistair continued. "You see, a local bard was singing a ballad about the local royal bloodline, and the family's recent prophetic tensions. I prayed for an answer, and that night I received a dream, showing the one I was searching for all tied up, guarded by Nell. An old seer confirmed that the vision pointed to these old ruins in a neighbouring realm."

Nedrick redirected his bewildered stare toward Nell. "And why did you take a Nymbricae hostage?"

Nell held up the glowing scroll, practically vibrating with magical authority. "Because of this. My family's prophecy. And it sucks."

Everyone leaned in.

The scroll unraveled dramatically, revealing golden text written in celestial script that shimmered like starlight.

Nell translated aloud:

In the time before time, when the sun neither sets nor rises,

The one who is many shall awaken by falling asleep.

Beware the silence that sings,

For it shall speak truths cloaked in lies and lies veiled in honesty.

Only the chosen unchosen shall wield the sword that is not a sword,

To open the door that must remain closed,

Lest the world forget what it never knew.

And lo, in the end, which is the beginning that already happened,

The great stillness shall march forward—

Sideways.

"See?" Nell scowled. "And it goes on and on for, like, a hundred paragraphs! It's super vague, it's grandiose, and very unhelpful." 

Lucian tapped his chin in thought. "What does it mean?"

"You think I know? Nobody knows! Especially not the prophet who wrote it!" Nell ranted, flapping the darned thing in the air. "It doesn't say where to go, or what sword-not-sword we're supposed to be wielding, what my family is even supposed to do, or what we get in return!"

The Nymbricae, still tied up, wiggled slightly. "And I'd like to go on record saying I have no idea, either."

Nell continued, pacing. "So I thought: fine. If prophecies are gifted to prophets, elders, and oracles by the Nymbricae, then I'll make this Nymbricae change it. Get him to rewrite it. Specify me. Make me the chosen one or something. If fate is a suggestion, I'm gonna edit the footnotes."

Alistair looked impressed. "That's the most aggressively ambitious thing I've heard since I tried to annex an opera house with charm alone."

Nedrick scratched his head. "Wait. How's he supposed to change your prophecy if he's tied up? Is it that he doesn't want to help? Are you going to torture him into submission?"

"It's not a matter of want, or torture," Nell snapped. "Just my luck, actually; he doesn't have any powers!"

Lucian frowned. "Uh... Then, how do you know this guy even is a Nymbricae?"

"Because he affects the world differently than mortals do!" Nell exclaimed, annoyed. "Ugh, it's hard to explain."

"It's really not," Alistair butted in. "I was on his trail for three days. He leaves silver coins with no kingdom's stamp on windowsills or fences—I suppose as payment or thanks—and the coins will vanish if not spent quickly. Also, along the paths he takes, the whistling wind mimics laughter. Like the wind in the trees are chuckling mysteriously after he passes." Alistair began to pace as he went on. "Even certain wild animals were acting oddly tame as they briefly guided me in his direction, before vanishing. Birds perched fearlessly on shoulders, foxes followed me briefly, dogs refused to bark at strangers. Farmers reported bumper crops and sick animals suddenly healing the day after 'a strange little man' passed by, as well. He may not have any powers, but he is not ordinary. So yes, I can vouch for him. He's the real deal."

The Nymbricae smiled again. "Thanks, Al!"

"So, then," Nedrick said slowly, "was your whole plan to lock a powerless immortal in a closet until he had a change of heart, or something?"

Nell crossed her arms. "It worked on my brother and his dumb lute obsession."

The Nymbricae frowned and cleared his throat. "I am not a lute."

Lucian stepped forward with the most princely expression he could muster.

"Nell," he said, "I respect your hustle. But you can't force magic. It's like forcing a squirrel into diplomacy. Even if it works, it's going to bite everyone."

Alistair nodded. "Well-put."

Nedrick added, "Also, keeping Nymbricaes hostage in closets might violate cosmic housing codes."

Nell wavered slightly at that. "...Dang, really?"

"Look," Alistair said, placing a hand over his heart and looking very sincere. "Give him to me. No offence, but you obviously don't know what you're doing, so I'll take responsibility. I'll make sure he's restored to full power, changes your prophecy, fulfills his destiny, whatever it is. And if not... I'll at least keep him somewhere with better airflow."

Nell hesitated, then looked at the Nymbricae.

He shrugged. "Fine by me. I like Al better than the closet; he has candy."

Lucian intersected with a glittery smile. "I'd like to offer myself up as the superior choice of Nymbricae carer. I mean, look at me; do these sweet gains not speak for themselves?"

Nell muttered a few choice curses, shoved the scroll into her satchel, and handed the rope over to Nedrick.

"Fine," she snapped. "You figure out how to power him up. But if he explodes into stardust and starts raining fire, I'm not cleaning it up."

Nedrick examined the rope. "Neat. We now own a cosmic liability. Add that to the checklist."

The Nymbricae stood up awkwardly, as he was still bound in rope. "So. Where are we going?"

Alistair stepped forward to untie him. "Far away from here, at least."

Lucian smiled, heroic once more. "We're going to forge destiny. Possibly on a beach. Or a castle. Or a beach castle. We're still working out the details. Now... what shall we call our mysterious friend?"