Raven's head swam as his chin impacted the dirt.

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

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

Gritting his teeth, Raven 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 up-"

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

"Match to Spring," someone droned.

Raven closed his eyes, and would have taken a deep breath had he actually been able to breathe. He hadn't yielded, but had to admit that he wouldn't have been able to continue.

I withdrew my conscious from his, hopping to my feet and taking a few steps back. The confines of a human form were exhausting — even more so when said human was getting his brains beaten out — and I'd endured that as much as I thought I ought to in one sitting.

Raven slowly drew in a breath, opening his eyes. His jaw clenched again — this time I saw it rather than felt it — and he rolled himself back onto his stomach, grunting in pain.

My turn.

Stepping forward, I waved my hand with a flourish and let a single copper penny slip from my fingers. It glinted in the sunlight before bouncing to a stop in front of Raven's nose.

He blinked, going cross-eyed for a second in an attempt to investigate without lifting his ~aching~ head. "Penny?" he muttered.

Yes, that's me! And a good day to you as well.

"Huh."

No, I didn't know you'd trained for five years for this tournament, only to get your ass handed to you. That must be terribly frustrating.

Slowly, he drew his arm forward.

Really, you don't like dogs? I've always wanted a dog, but it'd have to know I was there.

His fingers closed around the bit of metal. "Lucky penny, I guess. Fitting that the universe gives me meaningless tokens while neglecting to save my face from a beating."

I let out a silent sigh, even though he'd done what I wanted. There's no such thing as luck, dimwit. It's just me.

Well, technically, me or one of the other Gatekeepers, but it's not like they're any more helpful. Destiny is too bothered by the big picture to think about individual fates. The Author is a stuck-up ass who thinks he's a genius, if you don't mind me saying. And the Fourth Wall... don't even get me started.

Raven climbed to his feet, sliding his 'lucky penny' into the pocket of his trousers before limping out of the ring. I trailed behind, and then, out of curiosity, I slipped forward and popped into his consciousness again.

The losers' bracket it was, then. Five years of training had earned him the chance to valiantly prove himself among a collection of idiots. If he made it any further in life, he might as well declare eternal victory.

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

"Thank you," Raven 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 by the ring 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," she informed him.

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

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 admire how you always fight fairly, and how you keep going even though you're not the best."

"I'll be the best one day."

She laughed. "I believe that, but you have to earn it first. And that's exactly what you're doing."

They spent the next ten minutes talking, and Raven felt his pain disappearing despite the injuries lingering. He would always treasure these conversations, moments of genuine peace both outside and inside his head.

"From the losers' bracket, Raven will be fighting Aspen. Contestants, please come forward."

Not particularly in the mood to experience another beating, I stepped back, crossing my arms and leaning against the air behind me.

The two humans moved forward, sizing each other up as they stepped into the dirt ring.

"Come on, lucky penny, we've got this," Raven said to himself.

Yeah, we do, you're welcome.

"Sit back and watch the tables turn."

Shrugging, I sat back, folding my feet up into the air.

"Begin!"

Aspen's feet scuffed up a cloud of dust as she shot forward. Raven quickly raised his arms, dancing to the side so the girl 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, and he saw it at the last second, ducking down and jabbing toward her stomach. She neatly stepped back, and Raven grunted in frustration, pursuing and swinging again.

Aspen 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.

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

Pfft. Like the Gods do anything besides mope around and cause trouble.

Shaking his head, Raven rushed forward. His fist was swept aside by Aspen's arm, but he remembered to keep his other arm up, earning another painful smack to his bone.

The contestants stayed in close, arms meeting arms, knees meeting palms, feet refusing to take more than a single step back. But slowly, Aspen pushed forward, and Raven 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 collapsed to the ground.

Raven was again stunned for a second, but this time recovered in time to pin his opponent on the ground with his foot.

"Match to Raven," the announcer intoned. They seemed to be the only unsurprised party present, and that was only because they were never surprised by anything, as far as I'd seen.

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

Aspen stood, and her eyes narrowed as she looked at Raven. "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 Raven."

"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."

Aspen rolled her eyes and stomped away.

"She's sort of right, you know," Fern said softly, walking up behind Raven.

His brow furrowed. "You're saying you don't think I should have won?"

"Come on, just look at it objectively," she insisted. She had a way with brutal honesty — I'd seen it countless times throughout her life so far. I liked having pretend conversations with her.

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

"Of course you can, I just want you to remember that you could still learn something from that match."

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

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

And this is why I hate my job sometimes.

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.

I was supposed to be the least important of the Gatekeepers, 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, 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 Raven 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 parents were taken by the kingdom's guard for failure to pay taxes. I'd been there then, too, but it had been so long that I'd more or less forgotten.

As hard as I tried to remember what the other Gatekeepers let go, there were just too many different stories in between. And as I'd finally come to admit, forgetting was better than remembering wrong.

"From the losers' bracket, Sky will be fighting Raven. Contestants, please come forward."

Raven stepped forward. No one else did.

"Sky." 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.

Raven's eyes went narrow.

My eyes closed.

"I accept," Raven announced.

Fern stepped back.

It was happening again. 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 every good or bad moment in 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.

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 living on anyway, and maybe leave some sort of legacy on the world 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 the death of their memory.

I had the greatest legacy of all, but what did it matter if I was the only one to acknowledge it?

"Begin!"

I sprung forward in time to feel the first impact.

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

Spring pushed him off, then tripped and stumbled back.

Raven's heel hit Spring's nose.

"Stop!" Fern shouted.

Spring moved to block again. His thumb caught in the pocket of his trousers, and he cried out in pain.

Raven shoved him backward, and when he fell to the ground, rammed a knee into his chest.

"Match to Raven."

"Get off," Spring heaved.

Raven 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.

"Don't you have any decency?" Spring spat at him.

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

"What, was I supposed to lose on purpose because you felt it was unfair?"

"No," Spring snarled. "But you didn't have to take every inch of pride I have."

"You know what?" Raven shouted. "I don't care! I don't care that you're all sore losers and you have to blame your loss on bad luck. Why is it okay if I'm the best later, but not if I'm the best now?"

"How about you reign in your insecurity enough to talk like a civilized human?" Spring countered, but his voice was rising too.

Raven stepped forward, fists clenching.

No.

I wanted to stop it. I wanted to explain that this was all a terrible mistake, and that Raven was only supposed to win here because Destiny wanted to write a lesson about pride. But the penny was in his pocket, and I wasn't about to fish it out.

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

Spring stepped forward, and the sun flashed in his eyes. As he flinched back, Raven's foot flew into his gut.

Stop. It was so tiny, so timid, so useless that even if people 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.

Just like I had 'won' in the game of sentience and reality by being an entity that could neither live nor die, Raven had 'won' here. He'd won so thoroughly that no one would even be bothered to acknowledge his existence, because why take inspiration from someone who did nothing inspiring?

Eventually, memories of Raven 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.

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 where you placed. All that matters is the way you were ignored.

A piece of copper bounced into my vision.

I slowly bent down, lifting the penny from the ground. It flashed between my fingers before disappearing.

I turned toward the setting sun.

It didn't believe in luck, and neither did I, and neither should anyone, because all they'll find is me, over and over, until the universe has no more pennies to give.

If all your life is a game of chance, and Destiny skipped your turn, find a penny, pick it up... and watch the tables burn.