Darin sat on a rickety wooden stool in the center of the village square, massaging his temples as he tried to understand how his life had gone so horribly wrong.

Around him, villagers bustled about in excitement, preparing the so-called Trial of Shadows, which, as far as he could tell, was just them making up nonsense as they went along.

"I cannot believe you people are still doing this," Darin muttered.

The stranger, who still hadn't given his name, by the way—knelt beside him with unwavering devotion. "My lord, you need not feign ignorance any longer. The trial is merely a formality. Your power shall reveal itself in due time."

Darin shot him a glare. "My power is the ability to forge subpar horseshoes and occasionally go a full day without making an idiot of myself."

"Truly, you possess great humility."

Darin ground his teeth.

Greta, the so-called authority on the trial, hobbled up with her walking stick. "Alright, young'un. The trial is simple."

Darin folded his arms. "Let me guess. I have to battle a demon? Drink the blood of my enemies? Raise an undead army with my 'dark power'?"

Greta squinted at him. "What? No, that'd be ridiculous. You just have to sit there while we light some candles."

Darin blinked. "That's it?"

Greta nodded. "If the flames flicker, it means you're infused with shadow magic."

"…What if it's windy?"

She ignored that completely.

The villagers placed four candles around him, each one barely managing to stay upright in the dirt. Darin sighed. Fine. If sitting quietly for five minutes would end this nonsense, he'd do it.

The candles were lit.

The crowd fell into a tense silence.

Darin sat perfectly still, mentally counting down the seconds until this farce was over.

And then, as if the universe itself was laughing at him, a sudden gust of wind blew through the village.

The flames danced wildly, some even snuffing out entirely.

The crowd gasped in pure horror.

Darin, eyes wide, let out a string of curses. "Oh, come on! Wind is not dark magic!"

But it was too late.

"The flames…" Greta whispered.

"They obey him," someone murmured.

"The prophecy…"

"The Overlord has truly returned!"

Darin looked at the extinguished flames, then at the crowd, then at the sky as if hoping the gods would smite him on the spot.

Instead, the stranger dropped to his knees, eyes brimming with tears.

"I knew it," he breathed. "All hail the Dark Lord!"

The villagers fell into a frenzy.

Darin screamed internally.

The villagers were in an uproar. Some were cheering, others were cowering, but all of them were now convinced that Darin was some kind of ancient, all-powerful overlord.

Darin, meanwhile, was rapidly losing his grip on reality.

"It was wind," he said, speaking slowly, as if to a group of particularly dense chickens.

"Just wind. A completely normal, natural phenomenon that happens when air moves."

Greta narrowed her eyes. "And who commands the wind?"

Darin threw up his hands. "Not me!"

The villagers ignored this completely.

"The prophecy did say his return would be marked by an omen," someone whispered.

"Yes! The flames bowed before him!"

"They didn't bow, they went out! That's what happens when you put fire near a breeze!"

"Such humility," the stranger murmured in awe.

Darin whirled on him. "Stop saying that!"

The stranger—who, at this point, Darin was beginning to suspect had been dropped on his head as a child, simply bowed.

"My lord, your power reveals itself even in your denials."

Darin clutched his head. "I hate everything about this."

Greta cleared her throat. "As per the ancient laws, now that the trial is complete, the Overlord must make a declaration of his will."

Darin froze. "I must what?"

The old woman gestured to the gathered crowd. "A ruler must speak his first command upon his return."

Darin stared at them. The crowd stared back, waiting.

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. His first command? Oh, that was easy.

"Everyone shut up and go home."

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Then, in perfect unison, the villagers dropped to their knees.

"He commands silence!"

"He dismisses us with his words alone!"

"Truly, he is the one foretold!"

Darin let out the longest, most defeated sigh of his life.

*****

Darin lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling of his small forge, listening to the very concerning sounds of villagers outside his window.

They had been chanting.

For hours.

"Glory to the Dark Lord."

"The Overlord has returned."

"May his reign be terrible and mighty."

Darin rolled over and shoved a pillow over his face. "I hate it here."

This was not sustainable. He needed a plan. A good plan. A smart plan.

Or failing that, a plan that involved running very fast in the opposite direction.

He sat up. Right. I just need to sneak out before sunrise. Easy. Simple. No problem.

*Ten Minutes Later*

Darin crouched by the back door of his forge, dressed in his travel cloak, a small sack of supplies slung over his shoulder. He peeked outside. No one in sight. Perfect.

Silently, he slipped out and crept toward the village outskirts. Step by step, he made his way past the houses, past the well, past—

"My lord, where are you going?"

Darin screamed internally.

He turned, very slowly, to see the stranger, his biggest problem in life, standing directly behind him, hands clasped, looking delighted.

Darin forced a smile. "Ah. You. Hi. So. Funny thing—I was just, uh…going for a walk."

The stranger blinked. "With a packed bag?"

"…I walk prepared."

"At four in the morning?"

"Very prepared."

The stranger's face lit up. "Of course! A ruler must always be ready for anything! How wise of you, my lord."

Darin wanted to throw himself into the nearest ditch.

Instead, he exhaled through his nose. "Okay. Let's try this again. I am not a dark overlord. I am not destined for anything. I am a blacksmith, and I am leaving this ridiculous town before one of you sacrifices a goat in my name."

The stranger nodded solemnly. "Understood, my lord."

"…Really?"

"Yes. You wish to embark on your journey alone. A test of self-discovery, no doubt."

"No, I—"

The stranger beamed. "Worry not! I shall ensure your loyal followers do not disturb your sacred pilgrimage."

Darin grabbed his own face. "Oh my gods, stop making it sound like I'm doing something mystical!"

But the man wasn't listening anymore. He turned toward the village and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"THE OVERLORD EMBARKS ON HIS FIRST GREAT JOURNEY!"

From across the village, a chorus of excited cheers rang out.

Darin immediately turned and ran.