Knowing how you’re supposed to die sounds like a relief. Say, for example, you’re meant to drown. You think, “I’ll just avoid water, easy enough.” Right? That works until you are forced to live on an island. Surrounded by the crashing waves of your fate, you can stay away, but for how long? That is similar to my story, and, not to discount your hypothetical water death, but mine was far worse.  

I lived a drudgingly boring life up until age twelve. That is, if you consider hours of mental conditioning and dusk ‘til dawn physical training boring.  I grew up in the house of Amakier, the most well-known mixed-martial artist in the town of Galeden. I wasn’t born into this family but relocated there. At five years old, I was removed from school and placed in an “intensive training program.” I do not know why, all I know now is the way of the Amakier. Because I started so late, I had to train more vigorously than the sons of Master Amakier; I needed to catch up. So, I did. I have no memory of my family before, nor do I care to know. Apparently, they were untouchables, and I showed promise that they never exhibited. Untouchables in the land of Galeden was not the classist label that existed in other places. My parents were not shunned for being poor; they were shunned for being criminals. The crimes they committed? I was never allowed to know. All I know is that one day, the headmaster of my school pulled me to his office and said that I was to go train at the house of Amakier and become one of them. So, my name was changed. I am Noble Amakier.  

At twelve years old, I went through the same process that all of Master Amakier’s children went through: the Ceremony of Fate. This ceremony was one where everyone would learn how they were going to die one day. Usually, it ranged from death by sword to random beast attack. And for the other young men, this held to be true. Amakier’s oldest was fated to die in battle by enemy strike. His youngest son was to die of old age, probably a disease or illness. This fits both of them quite perfectly. His oldest son, Akbar, was incredibly strong. By age seven, he was a master swordsman and soon after became a master archer as well. However, he is incredibly reckless, often sacrificing technique for “skill points,” as he called them. His younger brother, Baren, would not take a risk if you paid him. I know this because I often tried to pay him to stir up mischief, but it never worked. I stepped up to the Rock of Destiny, and with the confidence of a mouse, I placed my hand on it, trying to hide the tremor from the Master. He closed his eyes, placed his hand on the stone, and hesitated. Minutes, which felt like hours, later, he opened his eyes and announced to the whole family, “Noble will die-” he hesitated again. I held on to every pause as if it would be the final one I heard. He continued, “Noble will die, of a broken heart.”  

You know how my story started, the middle is quite boring, though. After I finished my training, I roamed the world as a mercenary. Taking on small jobs, helping villages. The last time I returned to Galeden, I was informed that Akbar was murdered, his fate was completed. He fought until the end and died a hero’s death, defending his family from vagrants who ambushed his village. Baren was wed with many children. I, however, had yet to find love. I avoided death by avoiding connection. After learning of Akbar’s death, I decided to stop hiding my heart. I became a musician. Weirdly, the Master of the house of Amakier was content with this. Once trained, we were free to do as we wished. As long as we returned to fight if needed. Fortunately for me, it was never needed. I learned the lute, and I played it with the ferocity of a swordsman and made music that was gentle. I loved, and I lost many times. I traveled around the world, keeping my identity secret so as not to allow people to fear or respect me. I wanted to be normal, so that’s just what I was. I lived in the streets of impoverished villages and brought joy to them with my music. The people I loved and lost? There was Elise, a beautiful Elvin woman who treated me kindly and wanted to spend the rest of her life with me, but she despised royalty. Rightfully so, the Amakiers did live far above their means for no real reason other than they could. I lived like that, too, for many years. I told her who I was, and our love disappeared as effortlessly as it came. I moved on. I met many others, but none like Elise. Somehow, she wasn’t the cause of my death.  

I imagine that you are wondering how I died, who broke my heart and sealed my fate. One day, the call from Master Amakier came. Well, the messenger hawk, but I digress. War was upon Galeden. I didn’t know why or how, but I returned home. Baren had finally passed. He wasn’t what I would consider old, but he had an old soul, I presume. I was the final son. So, I charged into battle alongside the man who was supposed to be like a father to me. We fought strong, and we fought for a long time. After the war was finally over, he asked me to stay in Galeden. He wanted me to take the thrown from him so he could fulfill his death. He was supposed to die of his own hand, so he was immortal until he did so. He felt as if his time was up, and he was ready to pass the throne. I, to his disappointment, declined. I guess Elise had gotten through to me. I didn’t want to live rich and powerful; I wanted to exist outside the realm of the public eye. Master Amakier did not take this well. After days and months of arguing, he was enraged. He said that I was to duel him, a battle of the blade. If he wins, I take over as heir to the thrown. If I win, I am banished from Galeden and am to never refer to myself as an Amakier past that day. Little did I know, it was hopeless. I won the battle. But he fought ruthlessly, so I was to fight even harder. We were fresh off of war, so I assume my instincts got the best of me. I ended up driving his sword into his own chest, as far as his body knew, he had done it to himself. He had died by his own sword, but I am the one who put it there. As with every royal affair, everyone in the family was there to see it. They cried out furiously as tears streamed down their face. In the moment that I saw what I had done, I fell to the ground, dead. Killing my only father broke my heart. I was likely thrown into a river, discarded like the traitor I unintentionally became. But it was my fate. Now I am here, telling my story to you. There is no moral, no happy ending, just the nothingness of the afterlife.