The Curse of the Forever Pendant

The nymphs locked the image of it from their memory. The wisest oaks swore it was a myth. The warlocks used it as a running joke. But after seventeen months, thirty-six scars, and more betrayals than the dents in his armor, the knight found it: the Forever Pendant.

Sir Calvert the Fearless inspected a tiny, wooden chest between his chain mail gloves, skeptical that the container could hold what he had been pursuing for perilous months. But after the cavern maze and weeklong journey below ground, he finally convinced himself to hold his breath and unlatch the reward. The sparkling light from within, far more brilliant than the torch light Sir Calvert had traveled by that week, impelled him to thrust the box open.

Though his petrified gaze took a few minutes or so to breathe in the full glory, he appreciated the once-in-a-century sight nonetheless. The shabby container paled in comparison to the thin, silver chain it protected. Upon the chain was a tanzanite-blue orb within a silver frame, both of which the knight’s imagination had not before had the blessing to dream. After his knees started drooping with exhaustion, the knight retrieved the necklace and carefully settled it around his neck as if one wrong move would destroy its power.

“What magic havest thou?” he bellowed to his new accessory. “Th’ treasure of invisibility? Th’ key of immortality? Th’ blessing of eternal vengeance to him I choose?”

“Far greater,” the pendant whispered in the flitter of a pixie. “Th’ gift of knowledge. To see forever ahead of what is to come. Ask of me an event to see, and we shall see if it’s to be.” The knight stroked his chin with metal thumb and pondered the offer. Though he briefly considered the treasure as a trick from the dwarf he had wronged a month prior, his starvation for knowledge would take the reins today.

“I shall accept thy wager,” the adventurer agreed, surveying the cave. “Two tunnels I see. Th’ left is rumored to conceal a dragon guarding immeasurable riches while th’ tunnel to th’ right releases back to th’ forest. I desire th’ treasure, but I have no inkling of th’ dragon’s size nor magic. Answer me, oh wise Forever Pendant: If thou seest th’ future, will I slay th’ dragon?

“No,” twittered the pendant. “I sense ‘twill not be so.” And with that, the knight obeyed. Though he desired every last pearl and copper coin in the tunnel, the jewel’s forever knowledge revealed the adventurer’s bravery would get himself killed. He traveled right without missing a beat, indebted to the pendant for saving him today. Just for today.

A fortnight of not much use for the necklace had passed, but the prophetic glow finally had another chance to shine. After a long journey home, a reuniting with the town, and a realization of his dwindling money pouch, the knight saw it: a swordplay competition.

“I have fought elves larger than th’ biggest competitor!” Sir Calvert the Fearless laughed as he walked to a sign displaying, Winner Gets Two Hundred Gold Pieces. “This shall be but an exercise!” It would have been, until he saw the fine print: Participants must pay ten gold pieces to enter. Checking his wallet brought a scowl across the knight’s face, for only twelve coins graced the potential challenger’s palm. “If I lose these,” he muttered to himself, “I shall not survive th’ coming weeks.” He looked down to the eager necklace for its visionary wisdom. “Answer me, oh brave Forever Pendant: Will I win this competition?”

“No,” twittered the pendant. “I sense ‘twill not be so.”

“Art thou certain? ‘Twould be but a squabble. I ask thee again: Will I win this competition?”

“No,” twittered the pendant. “I sense ‘twill not be so.” And with that, the knight obeyed.

Though he knew two hundred gold pieces would set him for a new house and a wealth of food, he couldn’t bear parting with his only coins in pursuit of a prize he was predefined by the gods to lose.

Although Sir Calvert thought he could beat the challengers, and though he even thought about arguing with the pendant’s wisdom, he realized he was doomed to fail. A last-minute challenger would beat him, or an illegal move from an opponent would cause Sir Calvert to lose his footing, or the knight’s back would break at a critical moment, or a myriad of other occurrences could have easily cheated him out of the riches he would have otherwise deserved. And so, trusting in the Forever Pendant’s infinite wisdom, Sir Calvert carried on the life of a poor adventurer.

Months of exploration continued in a similar manner. The knight would ask his jewelry if he would win a challenge—whether that be a street fight, monster pillage, or quest for a stolen satchel—but the jewel would always reply with, “No. I sense ‘twill not be so.” He believed it every time, and with these words, the knight always obeyed. After all, why think for yourself when an enchanted necklace can do it for you?

In fact, Sir Calvert had become so reliant on the pendant’s understanding and inevitable choice discouragement that those in the village started to call him “Sir Calvert th’ Mindless.” (Just don’t tell him that. The pendant knew, though, and it kept this information concealed alongside other destiny-shattering knowledge Sir Calvert had yet to comprehend.)

After an unfruitful few months of journeying in the wilderness, a frustrating evasion of missed opportunities, and a grueling journey back to the busy part of town, he found her: a red-caped young woman with piercing, hazel eyes and matching brown hair that shimmered in the dusk.

“She hath stolen my heart,” the knight sighed. “Never have I seen such grace, such beauty! Forever Pendant, will I get to talk with her before she leaves th’ courtyard?”

“No,” twittered the pendant. “I sense ‘twill not be so.”

“But . . . I must—”

“No. I sense ‘twill not be so.”

And with that, the knight obeyed and watched her go. She smiled his direction, but the smile soon faded as she turned away and carried through the square. Each step she took across cobblestone pounded the knight’s chest with agony, almost rubbing it in that he would never be given the delight of courting one so lovely. Before Sir Calvert could send so much as a smile her way, the one he admired was gone. He fell to the ground in defeat, knowing his fate had been sealed long before destiny had existed.

“Enough,” the feeble adventurer demanded, gripping the pendant as if to wring its neck. “How is it that I, bold Sir Calvert th’ Fearless, am not enough for th’ siren of my visions? I, Sir Calvert th’ Fearless! Must thy knowledge seek still to torture me so?”

“‘Tis not my command nor my desire,” the pendant twittered. “‘Tis th’ truth.”

“Is truth but a travesty?” the knight countered, pitching the jewel to the earth. “Is honesty but a horror? How is it that knowledge has th’ power to crumble my tower of reality to bits? Thou liest.”

“I tell naught but th’ truth forever,” the scratched-up silver declared. “When thou found me in th’ cave, thou asked me if thou could slay th’ dragon, and thou would have, but turning to me for thine answer deteriorated thine confidence. I was left with no choice but to tell thee that thou would not have overwhelmed th’ dragon. ‘Twould have been possible, but thou believed it not, so slaying th’ beast was not in th’ path for thee.”

“So, th’ competition—”

“‘Twould have been an effortless way to win two hundred gold coins, for thy strength would have been sufficient to triumph. But thou became so caught up in th’ what-ifs of th’ challenge, and simply asking me for thy future presented th’ possibility of failure, though not yet certain. I was left with no choice but to tell thee thou would not have won th’ battle. Thou canst not win a competition thou hast not entered!”

“And then th’ charming woman,” Sir Calvert put together. “‘Twas also my fault thou hast answered negatively?”

“‘Twould have been a possibility to talk to her. But thou feared th’ rejection so profoundly that thou came to me in utter desperation, proving to thy subconscious that thou never truly thought ‘twas meant to be in th’ first place. Had thou not known th’ future, thou would have introduced thyself. But th’ second thou asked me for a prediction, thou lost all faith in a positive encounter, and thy brain was doomed to loneliness.”

“A paradox?” the knight roared. “I toiled seventeen months to find a paradox?”

“Perhaps, but I have not once lied to thee. Thou didst not slay th’ dragon. Thou didst not win th’ swordfight. And thou didst not talk with th’ woman before she left the courtyard. My facts ring true and are not to blame for thy dissatisfaction. ‘Tis not my flaw that thou lackest bravery.”

“Enough. I will not hear this further, for I am Sir Calvert th’ Fearless! Not a soul dares be braver than I.”

“True, thy bravery hath extended for years, but desiring to see th’ future of thine actions these months previous hath made thee cowardly. One cannot both be brave and be confident in an unchangeable future—it cannot happen. Bravery is pushing forward even when thou knowest th’ answer may not be in thy favor. Bravery is shaping thy destiny without cowering from every element that could throw amiss thy life and spoil thy future.”

The knight had a moment to drink in the critique and consider the proverbs. Then, he got up and did the bravest thing he had in months—shattering the jewel with his metal boot and pitching it into the bushes. The cursed accessory’s blue light extinguished in defeat, but it saw this coming.

“I am late for my future,” Sir Calvert the Fearless announced as he sprinted through the courtyard to find the fair maiden. Luckily for him, she had stopped at a fruit stand and had not yet left the marketplace. Though out of breath, he spoke direct enough that even creatures of another tongue could comprehend his message. “I love thee.”

“It cannot be so,” retorted the flattered yet surprised girl. “I know not who thou art, knight. Canst thou truly be sure we are meant to be united?”

“I sense ‘twill be so,” he replied, but after a second in thought, he reevaluated his answer. “In honest consideration, I know not. It may be so, it may not be so. But are we not more than actors on th’ stage of eternity? Are we not th’ playwrights of our destiny?”

The couple set off through the street and into the evening together, not sure if their romance would blossom yet bravely facing the uncertainty of the future. Will it work out for them? Maybe, maybe not; who knows? Just don’t ask the cursed Forever Pendant, for you may not like what you hear.