A lone Ampeiral lay in the desolate plateaus of the mountains. As a member of the Zeltiri tribe, I haven’t a reason to meddle- I haven’t even a reason to be in the mountains in the first place- yet I approach anyway. Now only a few footsteps away, I can see the iridescent, ever flashy red orange of his scales have been muddied by the deep burgundy of blood. The characteristic rows of protective spines that protrude from the back of any typical Ampeiral were vacant- all that was left were raw, bloody lines of exposed flesh. His talons were savagely torn off from all six pairs of his seemingly soot-stained limbs. His face was contorted into an expression of excruciating pain, but the fire in his eyes had long been smothered. 

***

    I shuffle out from my quilted covers- fantastic workmanship, Zeltiri textile artists- as I swallow back a wave of nausea. With swift glances, I confirm that yes, these are the Elmehar sleeping quarters that I have been assigned to since birth, and no, I’m not in some nameless mountain range staring at some nameless Ampeiral’s corpse. However, this wasn’t the first time I’d experienced this sort of...premonition, for lack of better words. Three seasons ago, a Zeltiri hunter brought back a fish that carried a rare disease that caused a horrid bout of gastrointestinal issues in our tribe. Only a few days prior, I dreamt of such a catastrophe, although I found it easy to write it off as a nightmare. The second notable time was a bit harder to dismiss- I saw very clearly that the king, Isalta, had announced the name of his newborn kit, Selto, and that Selto would be a part of House Rasta, the house in charge of our army. I asked around, but no one could corroborate this information that I somehow acquired. I nearly fainted when, the following day, the king announced his triumphant news word for word of what I experienced. 

    I knew that as I got older, things would change, but I’ve never heard of someone receiving clairvoyant abilities alongside a deepening voice and sweaty palms. Life was awkward enough without being considered a madman. 

    At least age brought one good thing- the ability to finally become a true Elmehar scribe. I’ve always admired the skillful compilations of texts from all three tribes- the art of smithing and sword fighting from the Ampeiral (despite the fact that that knowledge is useless without the ability to wield fire), the hundreds and hundreds of medicinal herbs discovered by the Laithera, the legend of the Sea Walker- a Zeltiri with the power to bend ice (an ability the minority of the Zeltiri have) who traveled to the ends of the vast seas, trekking all on foot… and I would be a part of the team transcribing them. My heart fluttered with so much excitement that I could almost forgot about the throbbing headache that plagued me ever since I started getting those awful dreams. 

    Almost, but not quite. I found my severe head pain to be quite distracting when my fellow to-be scribes and I were called for instruction. Unlike many of my peers, I found the art of effective citation to be quite intriguing, but the edges of my vision becoming distorted weighed heavily on my ability to focus. I struggled for a while longer, slogging through class- I wanted so badly to learn- to be useful for my tribe. Then I noticed something a tad bit concerning about myself- the veins in my hands seem to have darkened to a thick blue-black. At that point, I was convinced that I must have some sort of chronic disease, and I stammered, “I’m sorry- I have to excuse myself,” and bolted out of the instructor’s chambers, medicinal notes in hand. I reached a far part of the tribe’s camp before I collapsed, gasping for breath and nearly vomiting. I fumbled through the notes and sliced my thumb open across the edge of the paper. Now, a person in their right mind would bandage the wound or even leave it be, considering that it was merely a paper cut. But something drew me to grab my pen and write on my arm all wounds will be healed, as if that would magically work. To my surprise- and to my horror- I watched as the would closed up right before my eyes. Funnily enough, the crushing weight of my migraine and the odd, dark veins seem to have disappeared in that moment, too. 

    An odd sensation now raged throughout my hands, as if a fire had been lit in my fingertips. I felt like a new person. I felt powerful. 

***

    “Matelir Elmehar, have you gone mad?”

    Names are seldom addressed among Zeltiri, as we are often absorbed solely in our work, and it was even stranger to hear it from the king himself. 

    “Sir- your Majesty- I can explain-“ Can I?

    “According to the testimony of some Elmehar students, you abandoned class in a sort of frenzy, akin to a maniac.” Isalta grimaced. “Also, do not think I’ve forgotten your outrageous claims of being some sort of prophet. No Zeltiri-no person from any tribe- could possibly see the future, or write spells.”

    “Then allow me to prove myself.”

    “Prove yourself?” Isalta scoffed, and then paused for a moment. “Alright, humor me. I have here a sword- a rarity among Zeltiri, an Ampeiral creation. Make it so that, when I will it to, the sword will catch on fire.”

    “As you desire, your Majesty.” I grab the hilt of the sword in one hand, and my pen in the other, and write on the blade the blade of this sword will catch fire on command from the wielder.  

    With a mocking grin on his face, the king took the blade from me, and held it promptly in front of him. I felt a twinge of guilty satisfaction when fire spat from the metal, and the king’s grin morphed to awestruck shock. He quickly released the sword from his grip, and the flames dissipated.

    “I-impossible…” Isalta stumbled backwards, likely trying to create space between us. “You-“ he stammered, “You are far too dangerous to be left to yourself.”

    “Isn’t that a little over cautious-“

    “Over cautious? When you could come up with a million different ways to kill someone with powers like that?”

    “Then let me propose this: Let me be your right hand man. I can write spells for you- see the future for you. We could do so much good for our tribe together!”

    “So your response to my concern is… a position of power? A bit of an ambitious request, isn’t it?” Isalta let out an exasperated sigh. “Regardless, I want you to accompany the Zeltiri during the Three Tribes Convention-”

    I let out a gasp. 

    “Do not misunderstand me- you will not represent the Zeltiri. I want you there simply so I can keep my eye on you until I decide what to do with you,” Isalta spat. 

   “Understood, your Majesty. It is my pleasure.” 

***

    The Crossroads, the city that lies in between all three of the tribes’ territories and the site of the Convention, took far longer than I expected to reach. The thick, dense trees and rich, earthy soil sharply contrast the freezing sand and great seas that I’m used to, and make flying to the site next to impossible. Even though we’re in the midst of one of the colder seasons, I can’t help but feel clammy and a bit claustrophobic. 

    A pseudo-prisoner or not, attending a Convention was a high honor. Political (at least what concerns the other tribes) and economic matters are discussed between all three tribes, making Conventions integral for peaceful living.         

    I hear a rustle from the plants to the east, and out emerge enormous beings in varying shades of brown and gray that I assume to be the Laithera. From tribe rumors and texts, I knew that the Laithera were quadrupedal beings that had mighty tusks, sizable manes, and housed a deadly venom in their front claws. Seeing them in person, however, I never realized how big they were. With each thunderous step, every muscle throughout their bodies seemed to ripple- I’d bet that they wouldn’t even need venom to crush someone like me. Even though a meeting like this was supposed to be friendly, the intense glare from the Laithera queen could have fooled me. 

    Last, from the west, were the Ampeiral. They somehow seemed more on edge than the Laithera, but more so towards each other. They flaunted their flashy scales- not all red, I noted, but a rainbow of variety. Then I spotted him- the dead Ampeiral. Well, he was very much alive at this moment, but I could recognize that red-to-black ombré anywhere. In fact, he seemed to be the only Ampeiral with that type of coloration. I did a double take and rubbed my eyes vigorously, but that changed nothing. Compared to the other Ampeiral, he was much larger and more well-built, nearly the size of a sizable Laithera- he would not go down easily. If my vision is true, the only possible cause of his future death is murder, but can anyone even hurt him? Perhaps a Laithera’s venom could subdue him, but I don’t recall any wounds besides the missing talons and spines. I have to know more. 

    I quickly checked my surroundings, and deduced that King Isalta was far more concerned with paying attention to the hostile-looking Laithera than myself, so I decided to take my chance to speak with the mystery individual. “Excuse me, sir,” I started. “Mind if I have a word with you?”

    “Do you have business with me?” Answered a deep, husky voice, almost a growl. 

    “In the present, no, but if nothing is done, then quite possibly business that no one wants to be involved in.”

    “Is...that some sort of convoluted threat?”

    “No, I mean-look, can you give me a chance to explain?”

    “Fine.”

    “This is going to paint me as a madman, but, how do I put this? I saw your dead body.” The color from the Ampeiral’s face drained more than I had calculated, as if he actually considered my words. I know the point of me even talking to him was to warn him, but did he have a reason at this point to believe me? If he did, why would he?

    “You saw my dead body? When I’m standing here, clearly alive, and when you’re a Zeltiri that has no business with an Ampeiral?”

    “You see, I can see the future. And I also I can write spells. I can prove the sp-“

    “Meet me at my cave at dusk tomorrow, alone. It is located just west of the Crossroads, the easternmost portion of Ampeiral territory.” He pleaded, still obviously shaken. 

    I can’t help but have a bad feeling for what’s to come. 

***

    “What is your name, by the way?” I somehow found my way to this fabled cave Mystery Ampeiral mentioned, though I’d appreciate not having to refer to him as Mystery Ampeiral. 

    “Eltezar.”

    “To the point, alright,” I chuckled nervously, “Personally, I’m Matelir Elme- actually, it’s easier if you know me as just Matelir. I somewhat recently found out that I can see the future. I had this vision where you were alone on this plateau, with all of your spines and talons viciously torn out-“

    “Eltezar, I’m back-“ A new voice called, and considering the pitch and tone, it probably belonged to a female. I was right in that regard, but she was not an Ampeiral in the slightest. I locked onto her striking eyes- a light blue that resembled the sea’s reflection on a bright day. She had a set of tusks, a mane of thick, brown fur, and fur muscled legs, but it felt almost wrong to call her a Laithera. Her shoulder blades were well defined- too well defined, as if something that was originally there was missing. That notion was supported by the thinner, lighter coverage of fur in that area. She also had these flecks of silver running down her back and under her eyes. She was...odd. 

    “Eltezar, who is this? A Zeltiri?” she scoffed. 

     Eltezar’s face flashed with an emotion that I didn’t quite understand- guilt, perhaps?

    “Sailif, I invited this Zeltiri, Matelir, here because he had something... interesting to tell me. He means no harm.”

    “Ah yes, a Zeltiri who I’m sure is a stranger to you couldn’t possibly do any harm! What a buffoon I am!” she glared. “Now, just what could be so interesting that Eltezar had to bring you so far from home?”

    Eltezar eyed me a warning, but I saw no reason to hide anything from her- she already didn’t trust me, and withholding information might just upset her more.                      

    “Well… as I was saying, my vision was rather… horrific. Your body was mutilated beyond belief, it couldn’t have been natural-“

    “Wait, vision? are you claiming that you can see the future? How utterly ridiculous!” Sailif glanced at Eltezar. “How could you even consider believing him? He’s obviously mad!”

    “Well...is there a way you can prove yourself?” Eltezar asked calmly. 

    “Unfortunately, no, there’s no good way to prove these types of premonitions- only with time, and I’m sure I want to change the outcome of this one. However, I can prove another ability I have-“

    “You mentioned, ah, magic spells?”

    “Magic spells?” Sailif, at this point, was fuming. 

    “Yes.” I took a deep breath. “If you would give me a chance, what do you wish for me to enchant and what do you want the enchantment to be?”

    I was a little surprised to see Sailif search through a bag of hers. She pulled out a woven bracelet that seemed remarkably similar to a Zeltiri’s handiwork. 

    “Make this bracelet able to detect when someone lies, and make it obvious when someone does.” She sounded desperate. 

    “I can do that, though your request is a little vague. Would a change in the color of the bracelet be obvious enough?”

    “Fine. Whatever. As long as I can tell.”

    I did just as she requested. I gently took the bracelet from her hand and flipped it inside out. I wrote on the inner part whenever the wearer of this bracelet lies, the bracelet will change its color to white. “Now, if you want to test if the spell works, I guess the most effective way would be for you to wear the bracelet and say something that you know is a lie.”

    She snatched the bracelet back from me and fastened it on herself. She glared right at me. “I‘m quite fond of you.” And before our eyes, the bracelet faded to white. 

***

    King Isalta hardly noticed that I was gone, but when he noticed that I was now present, he made it a point to keep his eyes on me. My new attention from that king sparked many rumors, some of the worst being that I was now his personal servant as a prisoner. I mean, I essentially am, but without the stigma. He did eventually agree to my proposal, and he had me enchant a variety of things very quickly. It started with more simple requests, like enchanting his goblets to heal wounds when he drank from them. Then he had me enchant his armor to protect him indefinitely. Then, he finally opened himself to more selfless ideas and had me enchant the tools of the workers: metal talon extensions that attracted fish to it like a magnet, needles that wove at quadruple that rate a Zeltiri physically could, books that self wrote the authors thoughts when the author simply held the book, and countless other conveniences. Of course, the general public noticed these deeds I performed. Many were awestruck, many gave high praise, and many were struck with profound fear. It felt good, being relevant- being important. 

***

    “Did you hear? The Ampeiral lords declared war on each other.”

    “I guess they couldn’t decide who would succeed as the next king.”

    The situation must be serious if Ampeiral news has become the topic of Zeltiri gossip. It had been several seasons since my visit to Eltezar’s cave, and several seasons since I thought about that vision. Would an Ampeiral really do something so brutal to another Ampeiral? Is that a part of their culture, or their morality? Even so, war is war, regardless of who’s fighting it, and I have the power to stop such a war. 

    I followed the path through the Crossroads to the plateau, then to Eltezar’s cave. Fiery orange eyes greeted me, which told me that I was just on time. 

    “What are you doing here? Are you daft? Do you not know that this is a war zone?” Eltezar growled. 

    “I’m here precisely because it’s a war zone. If the lords are so indecisive, then someone better make a decision.”

    “Are you suggesting that you make a decision?”

    I sift through my bag, which I enchanted to expand, and unsheathe a sword kept within it, and present it to Eltezar. “This sword here has the power to end the war. It is enchanted to be unbreakable by any means, and to provide indefinite protection to its wielder- no sword, nor spines, nor talons could pierce you!”

    “You’re a Zeltiri- a member of a different tribe. You can’t solve something as socially complex as a civil war with a bit of magic. The Ampeiral would never accept that!”

    “But I wouldn’t be fighting myself, you would!”

    I was certain that Eltezar and I were at an impasse, but he reluctantly accepted my gift. He slowly inspected the sword, and then positioned one hand on the blade and the other on the hilt. 

    “I’m sorry, Matelir, that it has to come to this.” Eltezar chuffed, soaked with sadness. 

    I then saw something unbelievable- Eltezar’s eyes turned a blazing white, as did his spines and talons, and with a swift movement he snapped the blade in two. The unbreakable was broken. I started trembling- I was overtaken with fear. This man was truly my match, and I had no choice but to flee. I heard one last sentiment from Eltezar, “Let the Ampeiral fight their own battle- I hope that, one day, after this war, we overcome ours as friends.”

***

    I honored Eltezar’s request. Three seasons passed, as did the bloody war, and I decided it was finally time to pay Eltezar another visit. I at least owe him some sort of compensation, an apology, for being an arrogant jerk catering to his own ego. I reached the plateau again, and then a chill ran through my very soul. I saw a single Ampeiral’s body- Eltezar. My mind was racing- where did I go wrong? He was a strong, capable man with the power to best me, and I warned him of his fate, so how could this have happened? I leaned in closer, my heart not believing my eyes, and then I noticed something peculiar- a white, woven bracelet facened to one of his arms.