Syd coughed up the black air in his lungs. Nursing the burn around his arm, he could see it clearer than in the flying lights. It was ruby red, glistening in the orange light. Otto cursed under his breath, noting a jade necklace at the floor, with a note.

"Meet me in a day," He read, "on this very space. Bowie."

"What the hell?" Chromia staired at the small note, as Syd was handed the necklace, as Otto muttered something under his breath, which not even the birds could understand.

As a bird swept to the group, they all felt their bodies freeze up. The same thought seemed to race through their minds. The wind fluttered through Syd's hair as a feeling of fear and silence rushed through his head. The knowledge that something wasn't right. The knowledge that it involved them. The knowledge that Syd, Chromia and Otto were chosen. The panic-esque feeling, knowing that they were all in danger.

"Should we?" Syd asked, his eyes shaking as he tried to rationalise,
"Hell no," Chromia sighed, "at least not without us."
Otto smiled, "I'll come with you. Chromia, you come and back us up-"
"Hell no! I'm gonna fight as long as breath is escaping my body!"

Syd smiled, finally she wasn't taking it lying down. She was fighting. Not just helping. She was rebelling against the norm.

                       ---------------------

Bowie ran as fast as they could, from the forest to the the bridge, from the river to the grasslands, from trees to stones on beaches, from stepping stones to barren spaces of wasteland. They ran across the pathways to a long forgot castle, that time let become decrepit, forgotten to time as a footnote in the world's history. Bowie stepped across roots of umber and threw themselves at the dark stones. The bleak stones vibrated as they slammed themselves against the wall.  As the bricks opened, Bowie stepped through the wall and tapped a brick. The wall closed as a lamp flickered.

"Oscar." Bowie turned to the figure against the lights,
"Bo." Oscar reached out to shake their hand.

Oscar had long hairs of flame red, tamed only by strings of pearl coloured flowers, that fluttered through the wind and shook him to the core. He was built like an oak tree. His left eye was the colour of emerald, and his right was the colour of dark skies.

"So, the prophecy." Bowie waved their hand,
"Never gonna come true," Oscar dismissed,
"And the transition?"
Oscar sighed, "I'm getting used to the flat chest, but otherwise, it's fine."

Oscar had recently learned how to use his magic to transition from female to male. He had occupied his time trying to find a way to help Bowie transition, but altogether, they ended up with phoenixes fluttering and centaurs racing out.

"Why's the prophecy not coming true?"
"It's only one person according to the 'prophecy'."
"... They don't know that, Osc."
"What," He asked flatly,
"I-I kinda lied. To them. We'll need to get the others stopped, somehow."
"Get there right now, and tell them that it's all fake," He trailed off, but Bowie could hear swears being dropped like nothing,
"No!"

They left a second later.

There were still phoenixes fluttering through the cave when Bowie left. Worming in and out of each other.

There were still phoenixes leaving from the holes that Oscar called windows.

There were still phoenixes. Phoenixes that were flying to a large hill.

                       --------------

On the hill, called Shethla, there stood a tree-like man. He had a flame against his hand. Gold gloves and blood fluttered from his hands. Standing over animal corpses gave him the panic and hateful feeling. How could he have done all this? He was the chosen one.

The key word, 'was'.