Thou knowest not of thy fate? Of thy place in this world? The question from the Tattooed Man, Thrall. What was my place? Why was I special? Why had he vowed to kill me?

The memory of Lord Machado, enraged, dying, body wracked by wound and fever, attacking the black obelisk, destroying the lines of the prophecy with his fearsome ax. Each glowing line appearing, only to be swept away in a crash of ax blade against obsidian.

He will come

Son of a great warrior

Auhangamea Pitt. The Green Beret legend. To his children he was just a normal man. A stern and distant father. Yet a display case over the family hearth held his Congressional Medal of Honor.

Taught in the skills of the world

The very first time I had met Julie, she had read from my file. Top of your class, passed the CPA exam the first time. I was an accountant. A man of numbers and spreadsheets. Facts and figures. Audits and accruals.

Yet drawn to the sword

But I was far more comfortable with a gun in my hand than a calculator. I would rather be in a brutal full-contact fight than fill out a 1040. The glowing line of the prophecy exploded as the ax hammered home.

His very name taken from

The weapon of his fathers

Owen. An obsolete piece of Australian scrap. A cheap stamped sheet-metal 9mm bullet hose. But it had kept my father alive while he had stayed one step ahead of the communist patrols.

Given a quest by the crown

To defeat an impossible foe

The Elf Queen had spoken to me. Dreamer. One last thing. Ya'll got a mission. Don't screw up. Or we all git dead. This here is serious, and I ain't just funnin’ ya… As Queen of the Enchanted Forest, I order ya'll not to fail. Kill the bad 'un, or it's all over. I had accepted her quest. It was my quest to stop the Cursed One that had landed me half-dead on this altar.

Possessor of visions

My brave friend Trip, now probably dead. You talk with ghosts. You see visions. You even managed to turn back the clock. Explain that if it isn't a miracle.

Leader of men

Earl Harbinger, smoking, trying to hide a slight smile, confident in his wisdom as the most experienced Monster Hunter in the world. I’ve got three Newbies that seem to think you're their leader. Trip, Holly and Albert would follow you anywhere. Whether you know it or not, you're a leader. That's good enough for me.

Ally of dark forces

The Wendigo loomed in my mind. Billowing skins under an antlered skull. Special Agent Franks, still in mud-covered armor, snapping his hand to his forehead in a salute of honor.

Friend of monsters

Skippy and his tribe dancing and rejoicing. A mighty werewolf tearing with fang and claw as he battled the undead.

The line of text shattered in the darkness.

I knew now.