The man was tall and strongly built, but old. He carried a heavy, beautifully carved staff and wore a jaunty cap. Charms jungled at his belt.
“No,” Jason said, pointing a finger at him warningly before the man could open his mouth. “I am not The Chosen One, the Holy Warrior, the Bringer of Light, or whatever else you’re trying to sell!”
The man paused, staring. He seemed taken aback.
“I- ah,” he hummed, eyeing the heavy blacksmith’s hammer in Jason’s hand with new caution. Jason stared at him for another minute and went back to his task- making nails for the Gora’s new barn. “It was to be the Hammer of the Sun, actually.”
“I’m not that either,” Jason said pointedly and threw his next nail into the bucket of water a little harder than he really had to. The hiss startled the old man.
He was probably a wizard. Jason didn't care. The last one was a prophet.
“But it’s your-“
“If you say destiny, you’re going in the forge,” Jason pointed at the huge, blazing forge that served him and five other smiths. “I like my life. I love my wife, who will definitely kill you if she catches you here- she crucified the last one- and I am not going to help you ’restore justice’ or whatever you think I ought to do.”
“You are the Chosen One!” The wizard protested. He was beginning to sound whiny and Jason pondered the difficulty of actually pushing him into the forge. “You can't refuse!”
“Sure I can,” Jason told him bluntly. “Wife. Home. Not betraying them.”
The wizard raised his staff- now glowing, Jason noted absently. That was a bad idea, and the pendant around his own neck shimmered brightly with black fire as a shield erupted around him.
“Don't say I didn't warn you,” he sighed, and snapped off another nail with a sharp tap of his hammer. The other smiths- all too used to this sort of thing- ignored the drama. “You’re the fifth one in as many years, and she’s starting to get annoyed about it.”
The wizard stared at him as the air around them suddenly became charged with magic. Black lightning cracked down out of the cloudless sky, leaving a purple-gowned woman in its place. Her black hair was so long it trailed behind her when she walked, and her lovely face was twisted with rage.
Jason smiled at her, and then at the wizard, who was growing pale very quickly as the furious sorceress advanced on him. “Wizard- I never did catch your name did I?- be known to Darameithe, The Lightning Witch. My wife.”
Crossposted from www.reddit.com/u/leehadan