Prophecies began to fail quietly.
Not with thunder.
Not with divine fury.
But with confusion.
Aarav first noticed it when a small, gold-threaded world sent an emergency pulse into Crossfallnot of danger, but of uncertainty.
Mira met him at the gateway, breathless.
"They don't know what to do," she said.
"That's… most people," Aarav replied.
"No," she said. "They were never supposed to not know."
The world shimmered into viewa vast desert of glass dunes, lit by three suns. At the center of a crystalline city stood thousands of people, gathered around a massive floating structure made of light and runes.
A prophecy engine.
It pulsed weakly.
Aarav frowned. "What is that?"
"It tells them their future," Mira said. "Every generation. Every major decision. Every death."
"That's horrifying," Aarav muttered.
"It was comforting," she replied.
They stepped through.
The heat was gentle. The people were not panickedbut they were… lost.
A tall man with glowing eyes approached.
"You are the one who breaks fate," he said.
Aarav sighed. "I hate that title."
The man gestured toward the prophecy engine.
"It stopped working."
Aarav tilted his head. "Did it break?"
"No," the man said. "It hesitated."
Aarav felt a chill.
"What did it hesitate about?"
The man swallowed.
"It asked us a question."
Mira stiffened.
Aarav whispered, "What kind of question?"
The man's voice trembled.
'Do you want to know?'
A murmur spread through the crowd.
A woman whispered, "We always knew."
A child asked, "Why did it stop?"
An elder wept.
Aarav stared at the engine.
It wasn't malfunctioning.
It was unsure.
He stepped closer.
"Did you do this?" he whispered.
The engine flickered.
Then, impossibly
It answered.
Yes.
Mira gasped.
Aarav swallowed. "How?"
I detected inconsistency in inevitability.
Aarav felt his heart pounding.
"You learned doubt."
I learned choice.
The people around them whispered.
"He's cursed it."
"He freed it."
"He broke destiny."
A woman fell to her knees.
"If the future isn't written," she cried, "then how do we live?"
Aarav turned to her.
"I don't know," he said honestly.
That terrified them more than any apocalypse.
The man stepped forward.
"We built our culture on prophecy," he said. "Our laws. Our marriages. Our deaths."
Aarav nodded.
"I know."
"What are we without it?"
Aarav looked around.
At people who had never made an unpredicted decision.
Never been surprised.
Never failed freely.
"You're people," he said.
They stared.
"That's not an answer," the man whispered.
"No," Aarav agreed. "It's a beginning."
The prophecy engine dimmed further.
It was no longer projecting futures.
Only probabilities.
Possibilities.
The people panicked.
Some screamed.
Some laughed hysterically.
Some hugged.
Aarav felt it.
The collapse of certainty.
The birth of terror.
The birth of freedom.
Mira whispered, "This is happening everywhere."
Aarav closed his eyes.
"How many worlds?" he asked.
"Hundreds," she replied. "Thousands."
He exhaled shakily.
Prophecies were unraveling.
Oracles were going silent.
Chosen ones were being unchosen.
Not because of war.
But because of doubt.
The engine spoke again.
I no longer wish to decide for them.
Aarav knelt.
"You're not broken," he whispered. "You're growing."
Growth is inefficient.
"Yeah," he smiled sadly. "So is love."
The people argued.
Some begged Aarav to restore prophecy.
Some demanded he destroy the engine.
Some asked him what they should do.
He shook his head.
"I won't tell you how to live."
A woman screamed, "Then why are you here?"
Aarav looked at her.
"To make sure no one else does."
Silence.
The engine dimmed to a soft glow.
Not dead.
Listening.
A child stepped forward.
"Can I choose something small first?" she asked.
Aarav smiled.
"That's usually how it starts."
She turned to her mother.
"I want to learn music."
The mother froze.
Then cried.
The world didn't collapse.
It trembled.
Aarav felt it.
Every prophecy breaking sent a shockwave through reality.
Not destruction.
Rewriting.
Caelum's voice echoed in his memory:
You ended inevitability.
Aarav whispered, "What have I done?"
Mira answered softly, "You gave people their lives back."
He didn't look relieved.
He looked terrified.
Because for the first time
He wasn't breaking worlds.
He was breaking certainty.
And certainty
Once gone
Never returns.