“You have been chosen, young one.” The mentor said, eyebrows drawn down somberly.
“I’m the chosen one? Wow!” The child’s eyes lit up. “I’m gonna be everyone’s savior? I’ll be the one to destroy the evil monster? People will write songs about me. Name their children after me… This is awesome!”
“Slow down, kid. What, do you think you have some magical destiny that absolves you of effort? Of course not! You have to earn all of that.”
“But you said I was the chosen one.”
“You are a chosen one, not the chosen one.”
“Ah.”
“To be chosen just means that you have the innate genetic potential, the fortunate social status, and correct geographic location to perhaps eventually defeat the great enemy.”
“So… You’re saying there’s lots of hard work in my future.”
“Oh yes.”
“And no guarantees.”
“That’s correct.”
The youth looked down and, after a moment, locked eyes with the old man and said with resolve, “Hard pass.”