Alexander frowned. "Why would I be part of a prophecy?! I mean, there's really nothing special about me that would put me into a prophecy… Kind of self-deprecating, but it's the plain trut—"
Evandro spoke at the same time, gesturing exasperatedly. "Hold on a second, Sir Kápoios, I think you're mistaken… You know… I'm a nobody. If you told me it was Alexander, I'd believe it… But me?! There must be some—"
The old Kápoios interrupted them both with a shout, unlike any sound they had ever heard in their lives.
Alexander and Evandro were stunned and speechless, feeling as if they were naked, exposed by some force — not hidden, but mysterious — and somehow pleasant despite everything.
Sir Kápoios took a deep breath, slightly impatient, and calmly began to speak. "Now! Listen to me! Truly, I foresee that you do not wish to know my wrath — and one does not need to be a seer to know such a thing."
He paused for a few moments and continued.
"Well… Sir Evandro, I must say, it's really hard to deny the fact that I know about growing up without parents and living with uncles; living in a village that once belonged to your uncles…
"And Sir Alexander, I believe you are part of what fate did not prepare, but you are welcome to this hard journey that Evandro must prepare for."
Alexander clenched his fists, showing growing irritation, and responded to the old man in a not-so-friendly tone. "Listen here, old man! I have my own problems… My father instructed me, and I'm going to follow through with what he never had the chance to do!"
The old man lifted the corners of his mouth, showing a gentle and calm smile as he massaged his short white beard.
"Well then, tell me, what did your father instruct you to do?"
Alexander frowned. "You're very nosy, aren't you… Why should I tell you?!" Actually, I just want to get out of here, so if it satisfies your senile curiosity, I'll say it.
"My father discovered things about the king and was killed for it; he wants me to somehow take Tarquinus off the throne or avenge him..." he concluded with a clear scowl, acting a bit childishly.
The old man, however, laughed. "Well! It's no surprise that the hero of the prophecy would set himself a goal similar to the one foretold.
"Well, look at that: you should accompany him! For the truth is that your goals are similar, and by some irony or coincidence, your paths have crossed."
They remained silent; both Evandro and Alexander fell into deep thought because, of course, it was something to think about.
The old man then continued. "Listen, boys. You should use this. The king knows about the prophecy and expects one man, but he does not expect two, and surely, he will be surprised."
Evandro snapped out of his daydreams and asked, "Then tell me, if he knows about the prophecy, why did he try to kill me?"
"Well now! It's because the prophecy known by everyone says that someone of another name will come."
Evandro frowned, confused.
"Then that settles it! It's not me…" He said, already pushing back the chair.
"Wait! Hold on! The prophecy known by the wise says that a name that means 'good,' and only that, would come. And truth be told, Evandro literally means 'good man.'
"You will, in fact, take on another name, but that will be in the future, when you take the role of leader of the Greco-Earth nation."
Evandro remained quiet in response, stunned. But he thought of a question.
"What is the name?"
The old man smiled again. "Well… You'll know."
Sir Kápoios laughed heartily, with an expression of pure and unshakable happiness.
"Well, now it's time to sing songs, my young guests."
He quickly got up from the chair and dragged it closer to the fireplace, and without questioning, Alexander and Evandro stood up in response, a bit clumsily due to the size of the chair, and carried it closer to the fire, standing close to each other in front of the cozy warmth and the crackling sound of the fire burning the wood.
Old Kápoios began to sing a melodic and simple song about the times when he was younger and still lived with his beloved.
His voice slowly became gentle and pleasant; little by little, Alexander and Evandro began falling into an uncontrollable sleep at the sound of Sir Kápoios, eventually dozing off right there.
…
It was morning, and the rain was relentless outside.
Alexander and Evandro were sleeping, each in a bed, apparently in a place different from where they had fallen asleep.
Voices and murmurs floated over Evandro's already overloaded mind, leaking through the confines of his brain.
Suddenly, he found himself in a desert of sand, wide and empty, absent of structures, dunes, or even any presence. Yet, he ran incessantly from an invisible force.
Evandro stopped and looked at his hands, seeing them covered in blood; slowly, the sand around him transformed, like water mixed with dye, into green grass, fresh and fragrant.
He heard a scream ahead and lifted his head, but then looked back at his hands, still bloodied, but now holding a long xiphos (a common Greek sword) drenched in blood. Evandro began to hear murmurs growing louder and louder, soon turning into screams of pain and despair. A guilt, a pain, struck him in a way that felt like he was bearing the greatest weight in the world. He felt pain in his body as if he were carrying an abyssal weight on his back, pressing his body and organs to the point of almost becoming paste.
Yet, it was possible to hear rain in the distance, like natural, clear, and pleasant background music.
Whoosh!
A cold wind blew against his frozen face, making him wake up from his nightmare suddenly.
He was sitting on a chair under a strong and merciless rain in the field where old Kápoios's house once stood. Exasperated and confused, he began mumbling nonsense until a coherent sentence came out. "What? What is this?! Where am I?!"
He looked back and saw that Alexander was sleeping like a rock in a chair identical to his. Quickly getting his bearings, he rushed to Alexander, desperate, for, like anyone, he was confused, stunned, and scared.
They were in the field where old Kápoios's house had been, but now there was no house… It had mysteriously — or magically — vanished.