The wind picked up the sand and hit his body, but he didn't care.
Its wings lay open as the creature just concentrated on staring into nothingness. His eyes blazed, one with the fury of fire and the other with the coldness of ice. The creature hummed, looking at a story that was not written on paper but written in destiny, and then began to speak...
“The Chosen One decided to cross the Forest.
With his two old friends.
Ignoring his mother in tears, he decided to cross the forest.
Despite the Beast, he decided to cross the forest...
…and I cross it.”

The demon's red tail wiggled and it continued.

“The Chosen One decided to cross the Bridge.
With three brave friends, mounted on the Beast.
Ignoring troubadours, he decided to cross the bridge.
Even despite the Ice Gork, he decided to cross the Bridge...
…and it passed.”
The creature rose from the stone floor of the great lonely platform in the middle of the desert and continued speaking.

“The Chosen One decided to take over the Kingdom.
With friends, the Beast, and the sword that once belonged to the Ice Gork.
Ignoring merchants, he decided to take the Kingdom.
Despite the army of shadows, he decided to take the Kingdom...
…and took it.”
The creature walked calmly from the altar to the sands and continued speaking.
“The Chosen King decided to enter the desert. At the head of his army of allies.
Ignoring the cries of his beloved Queen.
To face the Son of the Light of the Shadows, he decided to enter the desert.
His name in the prayers of villagers, merchants.
His deed in the songs of troubadours, bandits.
Back, so far back, the Forest, the Bridge, the Kingdom.
To face the Son of Light and Shadows, he decided to enter the desert.
To face the Son of Light and Shadows, he decided to enter the desert...
…only he got through.

Saulus saw it in front of him now. The hero had arrived, His gaze determined and fearless. The will not to back down emanated from each of his inevitable scars. From the height of his unusual height he radiates the certainty of someone who, since he became aware, knows that he is different. The one who is known to be predestined to fulfill, once and for all, that Prophecy that everyone knows by heart.
That prophecy that, however, nobody talks about...
Saulus looks at the hero and just says.
- Go back where you sold, stranger. You are not the chosen one.
- To return? Of course not- Calmly answers the one who carries the sword. – I still haven't gotten rid of you.
The demon watches him carefully. And he says again.
- You can still be the Chosen One. If you retrace your steps and return with yours. If you live your life with your people. If you understand what it really is to be the Chosen One.

The hero is silent, and tightly grasps the sword, with the cunning of one who has survived a thousand and one stratagems, and the suspicion of one who knows that a thousand and one more still await him. He picks it up, safely and skillfully. He holds it high, in that powerful poise before attacking the demon who didn't move and just said...
- Being the Chosen One is only being the Slave of Destiny.
The sword came down with its deadly tune hissing through the air. He approaches at a steady pace…and then stops. The one who supported her was now nothing more than a stone statue. One of many
Sighing, the demon climbs his altar once more and sits on the ground and looks up at the sky.