A/N: Please bear with me while I keep changing my mind and cycling through various potential prologues. I'm still trying to figure out which is the best opener for the story.

~HS dimension~

Arnica's head swam as his chin hit the dirt.

"Ow," he wheezed, feeling a dozen aches add themselves to the dozens he'd already acquired. If he got any more aches, they would have to start negotiating for space.

"What was that, freak?" a voice sneered from somewhere above him.

Gritting his teeth, Arnica pressed his palm into the rough dirt, rolling himself over. He squinted against the evening sun, found Spring's face, and decided blindness by sunlight was a kinder fate for his eyes. "I said, 'Ow,'" he repeated.

Spring frowned. Apparently, he'd expected 'I yield' or something.

"So if you'd just help me u-"

A heel landed in his gut, and the rest of his sentence came out as a gasp.

"Do you yield?" Spring demanded.

Arnica closed his eyes, and would have taken a deep breath had he actually been able to breathe. After a long second, he lifted his arm and tapped the ground twice.

"Match to Spring," someone droned.

Arnica sucked in a shuddering breath and struggled to his hands and knees. The hard packed earth pushed against his battered palms with painful pressure. He was tired. Tired of losing round after round, tournament after tournament. Tired of being looked down on by the group he fought for as much as the one he fought against.

And I was tired of watching it happen.

I closed my eyes, forcing my consciousness out of Arnica's, and stood upright. Despite the oppressive heat, a slight breeze carried prickling particles of dust through my body. The ground that had pressed so painfully into Arnica's bruises was no more than a reminder of where my feet ought to be. The confines of a physical form were exhausting—even more so when said physical person was getting his brains beaten out—and I'd endured that as much as I thought I ought to in one sitting.

My eyes opened to the back of Arnica's matted black hair, rather than the ground in front of him. As I circled around to face him, footsteps impossibly silent, I re-counted the pennies in my pocket. Two unmarked copper disks. Today's work was supposed to be easy.

I pulled one penny out and flicked it into the air. It flashed in the sunlight and then dropped, bouncing to a stop in front of Arnica, who scrunched his nose at it.

"Penny?" he muttered.

"Yes, that's me!" I told him loudly, bowing with one hand behind my back like the nobility liked to do in this region.

He snatched the penny from the dirt, then struggled to his feet, staggering straight through me and across the stones that marked the edge of the arena.

"It must be terribly frustrating to lose so badly in the first round," I mumbled. "Better luck next time."

The spectators roared in enthusiasm as two new combatants entered the ring—a woman who needed the winnings to replace broken farm equipment, and a younger man who wanted to show his friends how tough he was. Today's crowd was bigger than usual, both because tensions with a neighboring kingdom had fostered a renewed appreciation for violence in the populace, and because the laws against betting on the tournament's outcome had recently been overturned. Even Spring, who took the event more seriously than just about anyone and was determined to stay focused, had bet a few coins on the outcomes of other matches.

If I'd had any extra pennies, I might have helped him win something. But I was only here for Arnica, who by now had made his way over to where the rest of the contestants had gathered.

I stepped forward.

I stepped back.

I hated doubting myself, and the penny had already left my hand. But that didn't stop me from jumping forward into Arnica's consciousness again.

"Do you need water?" Fern asked, hurrying over with a flask.

"Thank you," Arnica gasped, taking the flask from her hands and pouring the warm, gritty liquid into his mouth. 'Water' was a generous term for this particular beverage—'dirt tea' may have been more accurate—but after a few hours in the arena under the hot sun, it was what everyone was drinking. It hadn't stopped Spring from fighting well.

"You have ten minutes before your next match," Fern informed him, her bland tone telling him more than any sort of anxiety could.

His eyes turned to hers, and he found himself smiling despite his aches. He knew Fern worried for his safety, but she also understood that he wasn't going to stop, and that was what he appreciated more than anything.

His fingers slipped the penny he'd found into his pocket. The universe could give him all the meaningless tokens it wanted, and he would take them. He was going to show her that this was worth something. That he was worth something. Yes, he knew a penny couldn't win a match for him, but by the Gods, he would use every ounce of luck afforded to him.

"What?" Fern asked.

"I just...thanks for supporting me, is all," he said quickly.

"Of course. I'm your friend." She shrugged. "And I admire how you keep going even when you're not the best."

"I'll be the best one day."

She let out a small laugh. "I believe that, but you have to earn it first."

They spent the next ten minutes talking, and Arnica felt his pain softening despite the injuries lingering. Fern looked him in the eyes when he spoke, even though his right one was icy white like the Demons in old myths. In a world full of superstitions, he would always treasure these straightforward conversations, moments of genuine peace both outside and inside his head.

"From the losers' bracket, Arnica will be fighting Lydian. Contestants, please come forward."

Arnica's heart jumped up his throat, and he had to swallow it back down. Sound roared in a blur around him as he made his way back to the ring and stepped in. Across from him, a woman who looked to be around his age waved to the cheering crowd. Her charisma certainly wouldn't help him gain the crowd's favor—not that he would have gained it anyway. He was fairly convinced that, should he be fighting a soldier from the enemy's army itself, the crowd would still root against him. At least the constant pain that ensnared his limbs had dulled to a still-constant-but-slightly-more-ignorable distraction.

"Come on, lucky penny, we've got this," he said to himself. He shook out his arms and raised them in front of his face.

Not particularly in the mood to experience another beating, I stepped back, crossing my arms and leaning against the air behind me. "Yeah, we do," I answered him. "You're welcome."

Lydian's feet scuffed up a cloud of dust as she shot forward. Arnica quickly raised his arms, dancing to the side so the woman lost some momentum before her fist could come flying at his face. Her knuckles impacted the bone of his forearm, right on top of a bruise, and I saw his eyes water.

By then, her other fist was swinging around. He moved at the last second, ducking down and jabbing toward her stomach. She neatly stepped back, and Arnica grunted in frustration, pursuing and swinging again.

Lydian jumped back, but her heel caught on a rough patch of dirt and she went sprawling, back hitting the ground hard enough that I heard the gust of air leave her lungs.

Arnica stood still for a long second, eyes wide. I'd seen that reaction enough to not get impatient. And in that time, Lydian rolled back to her feet. "By the Gods," she puffed.

I snorted. "Like the Gods do anything besides mope around and cause trouble."

Shaking his head, Arnica rushed forward. His fist was swept aside by Lydian's arm, but he remembered to keep his other arm up for her retaliation, earning another smack to the bone.

The contestants stayed in close, arms meeting arms, knees meeting palms, feet refusing to take more than a single step back. But slowly, Lydian pushed forward, and Arnica lost inch after inch of dirt to her relentless attacks.

His fist flew toward her ear. She twisted, pivoted back...and her foot caught on a pebble in just the wrong way, causing her planted ankle to twist. With a shriek, she stumbled back.

Arnica was again stunned for a second, but this time recovered in time to land a kick in Lydian's stomach. One foot caught on the other and she collapsed backward, her back impacting the ground just before Arnica's heel settled on her chest.

She let out a huff of frustration.

Arnica narrowed his eyes. "What was that, freak?"

The chatter quieted.

Lydian stayed still for a second, then tapped the ground twice.

Sound crashed down in waves. Angry contestants and spectators called for a rematch, for the rules to be reviewed, anything that might change the outcome so a Demon hadn't won. Beneath it all, I could just make out the announcer as they intoned, "Match to Arnica." They seemed to be the only unsurprised party present, and that was only because they were never surprised by anything.

Arnica took a slow step back, forgetting to help his opponent up as his hand moved toward the pocket where the penny was stored.

Lydian stood, narrowing her eyes at him. "What's your name again?" she demanded.

"Why, it's Penny, thank you for asking. Although most people call me Luck, along with a subjective label of 'good' or 'bad'."

"It's Arnica."

"And you think you're better just because I tripped a few times? We both know I had that won."

He shrugged. "Watch your feet next time."

Lydian rolled her eyes and stomped away.

Arnica mimicked the motion and strode to where Fern was waiting.

"She's sort of right, you know," I heard Fern say softly.

Arnica's brow furrowed. "You don't think I should have won?"

"No, you won, but that was Lydian's worst match by far. It really looked like she got unlucky." Fern had a way with brutal honesty—I'd seen it countless times throughout her life so far. I liked having pretend conversations with her. When I had too many choices, I could try to guess what she would do in my place.

Right now, though, Arnica wasn't in the mood for it. "Can I not take a second to bask in my victory?" he accused.

"Of course you can, but you can also learn something from that match."

He huffed in annoyance. "Just leave me alone for a second."

"Okay, okay," Fern snapped, spinning around.

I found my jaw clenching. I wanted to breathe air.

This particular interaction wasn't my fault—well, unless you added up all previous impacts I may have had on the personalities of the parties involved, and by extension their reactions—okay, maybe it was my fault. Or maybe I could blame Destiny, I didn't know.

Between the two of us, I was supposed to be the least important, but looking through a lens any smaller than 'all of eternity', it felt like I was the only one who did anything at all.

"Not that it matters," I mumbled, "because there's nothing anybody can do about it."

For ten minutes of uncomfortable silence, I watched the sun move in the sky. That wasn't something Arnica could do without damaging his eyes, so I took the time to do it for him. He had so many memories of enjoying sunrises, all the way up until the day his mother had been discovered as an enemy spy, and feeling betrayed, he'd moved as far away from the kingdom's farming province as he could. I'd been there that day—I'd placed the penny the inspecting officer found that morning—but it was so long ago that I'd more or less forgotten why.

Destiny had one goal for this tournament: to make sure there was an unlikely winner. When the war between kingdoms finally came, the people would need an inspiration to look to. I hadn't dared wonder why there needed to be a war in the first place.

I reckoned some explanation for why we wrote history the way we did might make my job a lot easier.

"From the losers' bracket, Haron will be fighting Arnica. Contestants, please come forward."

Arnica stepped forward. No one else did.

"Haron." The name was repeated.

Confused glances.

"If the contestant will not step forward, then would someone else volunteer to take this match?"

Spring cracked his knuckles. "I'll take it."

Fern's eyes went wide.

Arnica's eyes went narrow.

My eyes closed.

"I accept," Arnica said.

I'd made another wrong choice. I crouched down. I pressed my palms into the dirt. I focused on the gentle breeze. I was acting like a Human, but where was the shame in that? Humans didn't carry the weight of the lives of people they'd never really met. But now the air felt as solid as the dirt, and it was all pressing in.

Spring had worked for years leading up to this tournament—I'd been there for all of it. But his work would be ignored, because Arnica was going to win this round and all the others. Maybe I was making entirely the wrong message. Maybe it shouldn't be that the underdog could win, but that anyone could win if they worked for it.

The penny had already left my hand. But I had one more for fine-tuning.

Who was I to question the lessons Destiny wanted to teach?

"Begin!"

I leapt forward in time to feel the first impact.

Arnica's forearms were really starting to hate him, but right now, he didn't care. He'd never felt so alive, so ready to take someone on. He intercepted each of Spring's lousy attempts at blows, watching his reactions. There was really no pattern, but on gut instinct, he held up a hand, and Spring's next strike smacked into his palm.

"Ha!" Arnica shouted, twisting Spring's arm to the side. Spring moved to protect his arm, and by then Arnica's knee had landed in his side.

Spring pushed him off, then tripped and stumbled.

Arnica's elbow hit Spring's nose, setting it at a satisfyingly crooked angle.

People were shouting. One of them sounded like Fern, but it blurred into the rest, and he was too busy moving.

Spring moved to block again. His thumb caught in the pocket of his trousers. Arnica shoved him backward, rammed a knee into his chest, and pinned him to the ground, fist hovering over his face.

Spring's sneer bent around his knuckles.

The man coughed, eyes watering. Arnica repositioned his fist, and with a look of pure loathing that was very much mutual, Spring tapped the ground.

"Match to Arnica."

"Get off," Spring heaved, tears in his eyes.

Arnica grinned in his face before standing. It felt so good to get him back like this. It almost felt better than it would have to win the first bout outright. "Who's the freak now?"

I retreated, trying not to cringe, or scream, or just leave. I knew them well enough to guess where this was going. And so did Fern.

"Don't you have any decency?" Spring spat, climbing to his feet and wiping his face.

"Don't I have decency? Aren't I the one you were humiliating not thirty minutes ago?"

"It's not my fault you can't take a loss like a Human."

Arnica stepped forward, fists clenching.

No.

They'd both been through so much, I didn't want either of them to go down here.

It didn't matter.

Eventually, memories of Arnica would fade, including my own. It would take a long time, because there were more events in his life I would influence, more plot points in his story I would direct. But even on my long, roundabout path, twisting and turning through time while everyone else walked straight ahead, all these people would eventually be lost, and in the eyes of those who had written their stories, they would never have existed at all.

So why did I want to stop this?

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter.

Spring stepped forward, and the sun flashed in his eyes. As he flinched back, Arnica's knee slammed into his ribs with a loud crack.

"Stop," I pleaded. It was so tiny, so timid, so useless that even if Humans could hear me, they wouldn't have heard that.

"Stop it!" someone cried. It wasn't Fern. Fern was looking away.

I walked over to her and looked away too.

Maybe I'd gone too far, maybe I hadn't gone far enough. Maybe nobody cared, because as far as they knew, they would keep on living anyway, and maybe leave some sort of legacy through their actions. They didn't know that Destiny didn't give a shit about their legacy, because it had already written pages far beyond their death, and the death of any impact they had.

It didn't matter whether Arnica or Spring won. The whole tournament needed to stop. The whole war needed to stop.

Who was I, making Destiny's decisions for it?

"Besides," I told Fern aloud. "If I did make my own decision, I wouldn't waste it on a Human war. I'd change the way reality works in the first place."

After that, I half expected to cease existing on the spot. I felt a foreign nag of disappointment when nothing changed.

Maybe Destiny wasn't even watching.

I turned back around. Someone had broken up the impromptu fight, and Arnica and Spring were back on the sidelines. Neither of them were in any condition to fight any more—I'd experienced enough physical bodies to know that—but it didn't look like anyone was paying attention enough to call a doctor.

I pulled the penny out of my pocket and glanced between them.

We write so many stories, teach so many lessons, and for what? When the game fades and is replaced by another, it won't matter who you beat or where you placed. All that matters is the way you were ignored.

I took a breath. I let the world slow down.

I tossed the penny into the air.

It spun, flashing red in the light of the setting sun, then dropped into my waiting hand.