Chapter 47 : The Smell of Fate

"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings." - William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

For Furina, it was, at first, nothing more than a passing curiosity. During her performance in France that summer, out of every face in the crowd, one had stood out. Not for her beauty, though she was undeniably pretty, and not for the magic radiating off her, distinct even next to what Furina had recognized as a Veela's inherited charm. No. What had caught her attention was something she herself had carried for five hundred years in her old life, in her old world: that devastating presence, that ever-present sword hanging over her own head and the heads of every soul in the realm she'd once ruled as its divinity, Fontaine.

It was prophecy. A prophecy over five hundred years old, one she'd been aware of from the very first moment she became conscious of the world at all, from the moment the 'her' in the mirror had told her, plainly, that she'd have to play the role of the Archon, the role standing above everyone else, without ever being unmasked, because she had a plan to defy the prophecy. Playing the part of a divinity was one thing. Playing it with no real power behind it, with nothing more than a human body, save for the one small detail of a curse keeping her from aging, and never once being found out, that had bordered on impossible. And yet she'd done it. Not once in five hundred years had she let herself slip, and in the end, the effort had paid off: when the flood that was meant to dissolve every soul in Fontaine finally came, not a single person had dissolved. And to add to that, against all odds, she'd saved everyone who would otherwise have drowned, at the cost of her own life, using the little power she'd gained in her final moments.

So she, more than most, knew how to recognize someone caught inside a prophecy. And the person in front of her was clearly caught in something similar, fate playing games with her life. What struck her as strange, though, was the disparity. A small community like magical Britain didn't amount to much in the grand scheme of a world this size, and from what she'd learned about the Girl-Who-Lived through her conversations with Harriet, who hadn't bothered hiding any of it, it sounded like little more than one lich left to put down. So why did the weight of that prophecy feel so heavy? Almost as if magical Britain had been meant to be the center of its own world at some point, and had since somehow merged into something far larger, a place where this small confrontation barely registered anymore. Yes, exactly like that, one story folded inside another story, except this new layer came with power scales dialed up considerably higher. Fascinating. And maybe not even far from the truth, honestly, considering she herself had traveled here from another world entirely. Anything was possible at this point.

Either way, it didn't matter much. She lived in this world now, and so did Harriet. Their reality was simply their reality. She supposed she should probably answer the question.

"Mmh! I have an eye for talent, and I decided you were interesting. You should be thanking me for noticing you." Furina said, smug. "And I happen to have a proposal that might interest you."

"Not until you actually answer me first." Harriet crossed her arms. "What exactly made you want to see me, Furina? I get it, I'm exceptional, I've got talent to spare." A faint smirk. "But that can't be the whole reason you singled me out. Unless you want to go with love at first sight, I'll consider it, promise."

"Love at first sight! It'd take a lot more than that to sweep me off my feet Miss Girl-Who-Lived." Furina waved the idea away easily. "Fine, honestly, what caught my attention was the smell of fate on you. It's rare, running into someone that tangled up in it."

"Tangled up." Harriet's brow furrowed. "Again? Are you sure about that?"

Furina blinked, genuinely thrown by the doubt. Harriet had told her about the prophecy earlier, about her and the so-called Dark Lord, Voldemort. She'd assumed that particular thread was still very much alive and well.

"I did tell you about it. I just figured that part was already resolved." At that Furina tilted her head. "Technically, it says neither of us can live while the other survives, and in that case, I wouldn't exactly call Voldemort alive, would you? He's a lich, the walking dead. So does that mean the prophecy wants me to wipe him out completely?" Harriet sounded genuinely unsure. She'd never taken the thing too seriously to begin with. She'd already beaten him as a baby, technically her mother had, and that should have already closed the book on it. Or later, when his Horcrux died, she'd figured that was surely the end of it too. Apparently not. That part was more unsettling than she wanted to admit.

"No idea, honestly. But what I can tell you is that you're still very much inside it. Sounds like the only way out is finishing the lich off for good." Furina studied her. "Want a hand?"

"And what would that hand cost me, Miss Hydro Archon?"

"Have you heard how devils reincarnate other species yet?" Furina leaned forward slightly, a flicker of hope in her eyes. She hadn't started collecting pieces of her own yet, not really, but Harriet could be the first. "Well, why not come join my Peerage? I can promise you'd be treated well, and there's more on the table than that, immortality, real power beyond what you've got now. What do you say?"

"Sorry, Furina." Harriet's tone stayed firm. "I like you. But I don't trust your pieces one bit. Not unless you can tell me exactly what they're made of, and what the fine print looks like."

There was, in her opinion, almost certainly some kind of mental compulsion baked into accepting one, some subtle push toward loyalty to your 'King' so you'd never think to betray them, even if something went wrong on their end. Maybe the whole stray devil thing was even a bit of a conspiracy to keep everyone thinking otherwise, who knew. It would make sense, honestly, if there were. And free will was something she valued far too much to hand over that easily.

"Uh, that... I honestly have no idea." Furina admitted, a little deflated, but honest about it regardless.

"It's not that I don't want to be with you." Harriet said, something tightening slightly in her chest as she watched Furina's head drop. "Quite the opposite, actually. There's something pulling us toward each other, I'm sure of that much, and it's not just you clocking that 'smell of fate' on me, is it? We ran into each other again after that, purely by chance, in a context that let us actually talk, however briefly. I'd guess that's not nothing."

Furina recovered fast. "Mmh, well, your loss then. Shame, really, what's better than having me as your King and getting to serve the great Furina!" Her usual spark was already back in full force.

"Yeah, yeah, Furina's the greatest, the best there ever was..." Harriet started playing along, then shifted gears. "Speaking of which, Furina, we've talked about a lot of things, but what about your situation down there? Being a half-devil, whatever world you're in, that can't exactly be an easy hand to be dealt, can it?" She wanted to know more.

Furina went quiet for a moment, clearly not expecting the question, before answering. "Normally, yeah, that should be exactly how it is. My life should be considerably harder than it actually is. But don't forget the reforms the four progressive Satans pushed through when they took charge. The whole thing goes down a lot easier under them. The Old Satan Faction, though, they're still bigoted right down to the bone. My father, even though our family technically falls under that old faction politically, was a progressive himself, spent a lot of time enjoying himself in the human world. He had me with a human woman, and given how hard reproduction is for devils, I suppose you could call me something of a little miracle."

Harriet put the pieces together. "So it's your mother's side that makes you human. If it's not too much to ask, your mother, is she..."

Furina's eyes dropped, something sad crossing her face. "Dead. Killed for the blasphemy of giving birth to a half-breed. I was raised in the Focalor clan after that, mostly because I still had power in me they figured they could use, if I'd let them. My father was furious over what happened to her. Let's just say it turned into a bloodbath. He didn't survive it either."

Harriet reached out and took both her hands. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up."

Furina recovered quickly, her usual brightness sliding right back into place. "It's fine, it's ancient history. I ended up strong enough that nobody could force my hand on anything anymore, and I've got a few good friends among the progressives, including the only woman among the Satans, hah! Otherwise, you can imagine I never would've been allowed to run around the human world putting on plays. So." She struck a small, self-satisfied pose. "You're looking at a very powerful devil with very good connections. Impressed, Harriet?"

Harriet looked at her, only just realizing she'd been holding both her hands this whole time, and pulled them back, a faint blush creeping in. "Yeah. I'm really glad I met you, actually. And I've genuinely never seen an actress that natural before, not that I'd really know much about theater, but even setting aside all the perks that come with your race, you were seriously impressive up on that stage."

Furina laughed at that. "Yeah, I'm impressive, aren't I! I'm Furina, after all. Just Furina!" She threw her arms out with a flourish, striking some grand, invisible pose for an audience that wasn't there, the exact kind of theatrical nonsense that seemed to come as naturally to her as breathing.

Harriet gave a small round of applause. "Yes, yes, the great Furina, the greatest there ever was..." Then, thoughtful. "I told you before I don't want to get reincarnated. But there's another way for us to be tied together, isn't there?"

Furina caught on immediately. "You mean you want to become my Magician." She tilted her head. "But that's different, Harriet. You'd need to be strong. Stronger than you already are, to make a pact with a devil as powerful as me."

Harriet, full of quiet confidence. "Don't worry about that, I'm not asking now. I'll get strong enough soon enough, you can trust me on that. Let me handle this whole 'prophecy' business first, and then we'll talk. Actually, I've got one of your phones, the kind that can reach basically anywhere, Yuna sorted it out for me. Give me your number, so we can stay in touch."

It was with full confidence that she would, in fact, become powerful that Harriet said all this. They swapped numbers on the spot, and spent the rest of the day together deepening their new friendship, wandering aimlessly through the alley, and it was on the promise that Furina would show her the Underworld herself, the moment Harriet finished whatever business she had here, that the two of them finally parted ways.

As for the prophecy, even though it came as a genuine shock to hear from Furina that it was apparently still just as active and binding as ever, despite the fact that the odds were now heavily in her favor against Voldemort, that it wasn't really an "equal" fight anymore in any real sense... she had her own theory about it. Maybe, for someone reincarnated like her, even if she was technically part of this story now, that didn't necessarily mean the same wall stopping every native of this world from moving past a certain point applied to her the same way. Maybe her wall stopped somewhere further out.

Either way, she figured, we'll see, with time.