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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Sci-fi · #2334165
What if there was a reason nobody got born on February 3rd.
Since ancient times in Antiquita, there had been a prophecy that the world would end when a child born on the third day of February had their sixteenth birthday. Without exception anyone who gave birth on the Ominous Day would be snatched from its mother's arms and killed. All so that the world would continue.

Nobody even questioned the prophecy. It had been made by the Robot Elders in the Dawn of Civilization. The Robot Elders were the wisest entities in existence and their prophecies always came to pass.

My mother managed to hide in a cave. She and the shepherds that helped deliver me. They went over forty miles to find a safe place when mom suddenly went into labor. So despite my being born in the early hours of Ominous Day, I became Antiquia's only living thirdite. The City's Ordained didn't track me down. The place I was born was out of range for the Eyes of Oracle to follow.

It was with pain and sacrifice I was brought into this world. Even though they knew the Robot Prophets would try to kill me, they chose to leave Antiqua. To avoid the rule that no child should be born of February third. My Father, Shiloh, gave his life to cover our escape. The shepherds kept watch for any pursuit from the Ordained. They kept us safe, gave us wool for my bed and helped plan for our safe return to the City.

My mother registered my birth with the Ordained but put my birth date as February 4th. She gave me the name Mossea, after Antiqua's first Advocate to the Robots.

On my fifth birthday, right before I entered the School of Advocates she gave me a printed book with the truth about myself. It was written in the language of my father Shiloh's tribe's language instead of Common. "You're the only one who can read this," she told me. "Keep it safe, read it. You are meant for great things, Mossea, my child."

It's been a little over eleven years since I entered the School of Advocates. Since then, I've learned how to read and write the Holy Code. I have memorized the Ritual Prompts. Even learned The Forbidden Commands. We're required to just in case things go wrong in the Chamber of Prophecy. Personally, the idea that we'd ever need them is kind of disturbing.

I stood before Holy Oracle Nova waiting to enter the Chamber. "Are you ready to commune with the prophets? They are waiting for you."

I nodded and stepped through the steel doors.

I didn't even have a chance to utter the first Prompt before a harsh siren and automated message began blaring. "Warning! Deleterious Prophecy catalyst detected! Seal chamber and eliminate catalyst immediately."

As the message repeated and the deafening wails broadcast through the Chamber's Speakers, I panicked. How had it known I was a thirdite?! I didn't want to die. Before Nova could stop me, I uttered every Forbidden Command I knew.

Sparks and flames began shooting from the Chamber's monitors and communing devices. A thick, pungent smoke filled the entire space. The automated message and sirens warbled and fell silent.

"What have you done?" Holy Oracle Nova asked. "The Robot Prophets...this was the only terminal. You've destroyed the only hope for our world!"

Word count: 399
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