Prompt: You are tasked to find the only person who can defeat the malevolent spirits tormenting your realm and end the gruesome war. What happens when you find out they are a temperamental toddler?

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Strange things have been happening in the empire lately because ghosts have appeared. It was as if they had been unleashed from somewhere, and everyone began to watch impatiently to see when something would be done to send them back to their proper place.

When the wizard summoned me, I already suspected that I would be the one to deliver a message to some hero or savior they could find. Or to multiple ones simultaneously, and then we'd wait to see which one would be faster or more successful.

I've often thought that the wizard's missions are the strangest because he always sends me to impossible places, and I don't always understand the messages. I've often told him not to send me to the past, especially not to the future, yet I always agree to the task when he explains it. Because my curiosity is always greater than my common sense, the wizard knows this about me and exploits this weakness. There's a contradiction here because I love challenges and testing myself, but I immediately vow never to do it again when I'm there. I'd rather walk to the ends of the earth on an utterly boring mission than deal with the wizard's hocus-pocus. But then I find myself here again, with the wizard repeating the message for the second time. No matter how many times I tell him I've got it.

Now he's furrowing his brow and worrying. "Are you sure you've got it? Make sure you deliver it word for word! This isn't just any legendary hero; he can only banish the malevolent spirits and end the war ravaging the empire."

He can see that if he says one more word about whether I've memorized it, I'll recite it. So he continues, "Alright, I know you're my best messenger! Forgive me, I'm just worried because if Nib doesn't help, all our hope is lost..."

"I understand. You don't need to worry. I've memorized your message, and everything will be fine," I replied. I was about to leave when the wizard pressed a rag doll into my hand, pulling it out of his pocket. I didn't know what to make of it.

"It might come in handy," he said urgently, so I impatiently shoved it into my backpack and headed out.

Did I mention that I didn't like the wizard's quarters? They were filled with stuffed animals, and I couldn't stand the glassy eyes of the dead creatures.

Thinking about it, I realized the place I was headed wasn't one of my favorite places either. This legendary hero, on whom our salvation depended, didn't live far from us, but still, the place gave me the creeps. I had never been there before; I had only heard all sorts of things about it.

In the past, if someone was to be executed for severe crimes, they were taken to this place, known as the Plateau of the Condemned, or was it the Plateau of Screams? On this plateau stood a castle-like building, which was said to be inhabited by evil spirits. Where else would a hero capable of dealing with ghosts live if not in a haunted castle?

I had no problem with spirits as long as they weren't malevolent. I wore an amulet around my neck that supposedly protected me from evil spirits, and now I made sure it was visible over my clothes. I did everything to defend myself because I knew the explosive device in my backpack was useless against spirits. But honestly, I wasn't terrified of them because I had never personally encountered a real malevolent spirit. It was just the stories that were terrifying, about how they scared the life out of gentle souls, sneaked up behind you, and whispered things in your ear that drove you mad, or simply emerged from the darkest places, terrifying you with their horrible appearance. No wonder the empire declared war against them, with little success, as swords were of no use against them.

I immediately understood its reputation as I approached the Plateau of the Condemned and the crooked-towered castle that stood at its center. The whole plateau was dotted with barren trees, and from a distance, it seemed like hanged men were dangling from them. Only upon closer inspection did it become clear that the branches' shapes were creating an illusion.

This was a very successful trick if someone wanted to deter uninvited visitors. If the mission was this amusing, it wouldn't be so bad.

However, I hesitated upon opening the heavy castle door. Inside, the typical abandoned castle look prevailed—cobwebs, grimy walls, furniture covered with white sheets, and shadows that sometimes moved, leaving me unsure if they were real. But I reassured myself that this was all part of the show.

Standing there uncertainly for several minutes without anything happening, I decided to climb the stairs to the next level. The paintings on the walls seemed to be watching me. I reassured myself that everything was fine as long as there was no real danger.

On the upper floor, along the walls, stood heavy suits of armor with helmets that seemed to watch me. I told myself it was just my imagination, and I opened the first door, hoping to find my target, the great hero. Indeed, he couldn't live here alone in this huge castle. Weren't there any servants or aides? Should I have called out? It occurred to me, but I was so preoccupied with the moving shadows that I remained silent.

And I was lucky because the room I entered had someone in it, though not who I expected. A small child sat on the floor, surrounded by toy blocks. He looked about 4 or 5 years old, and as I entered, he stared at me with big brown eyes and stood up.

The room was filled with toys—wooden cars, dolls, and blocks scattered everywhere on the floor. I wondered how anyone could move around in here.

Before I could say anything, the child stepped toward me with surprising friendliness and skillful steps, avoiding the toy piles, and grabbed my hand. "Come on, I want to play hide and seek!"

I had no idea what to say, so I followed the little person who pulled me further into the room. When I accidentally stepped on something, he looked at me nervously, and something was condescending and scolding in his gaze, which made me feel awkward because it was such a mature, commanding look. But perhaps this commanding behavior brought me back to reality, and I suddenly remembered that I wasn't here to entertain the hero's child.

"Where is your daddy? Could you call him here or tell me where I can find him?" The fact that I stopped and didn't follow him made him even more agitated. He stopped, turned toward me, let go of my hand, and started screaming.

I didn't know what scared me more—having no idea what to do in such a situation since I didn't know how to calm a child or the thought that I might have to explain why the child started screaming. His voice was terrifying and ear-piercing, and when he squinted and saw that I was just standing there clueless and not trying to resolve the situation, to my surprise, he calmed down and started to sob quietly.

"If you tell me where your parents are, I'll play hide and seek with you!" I said, and without knowing how or why, my voice turned sweet and high-pitched as if I was trying to flatter him. Dealing with children is something ingrained in us.

But the child wasn't impressed. He stomped his foot and looked at me angrily: "No, I want to play hide-and-seek now, understand? Right now!" His voice was firm, but I couldn't take him seriously. I almost laughed, thinking, what if I don't? Will he start crying? But fortunately, I didn't say it out loud because I sensed that wouldn't be right.

"Stand here in the middle! You're going to count, and I'll hide! And no peeking!" He pointed to a spot in front of him where I was supposed to stand.

This is ridiculous. I won't play hide and seek with a child when I have important matters. Seeing that I wasn't moving, his lips began to curl again, and he threw himself on the ground, screaming even louder. He was almost entirely obscured by the piles of toys, and I had to stand on tiptoe to see him lying there, kicking and screaming.

Just then, from behind me—though I hadn't heard anyone enter—a maid swept in, heading straight for the crying child. She scooped him up from the floor, soothing and rocking him while cooing for him to calm down and asking what had happened. The child pointed his chubby finger at me, indicating that I was the cause of his tears. It dawned on me that I was the bad guy here, and I began to worry that I wouldn't be able to deliver the message because I'd be thrown out of the castle.

"Look," I started explaining to the maid, "I'm a messenger from the royal court, sent to deliver an important message to the hero who lives here, Nib."

The child stopped crying and slid down from the maid's arms while she looked at me in confusion. When the child stood on the ground, he turned his head and sized me up. "You're a pretty ugly messenger!" he said in a lisping voice. I wasn't offended; I wanted to leave this awkward situation as quickly as possible.

"Well, I'm in a hurry. Could you lead me to him?" I urged the maid, who gestured toward the child with both hands as if fanning him or trying to steer him toward me. The child put his hands on his hips and furrowed his brow.

We stood there for what felt like a long time, with the maid making a few gestures toward the child and whispering something that seemed so absurd I didn't want to believe it. I realized I was in big trouble when I saw the maid's pleading look. The child—Nib—raised his hand, and suddenly, I was lifted to the ceiling.

Yes, he must be the legendary hero to whom I was supposed to deliver the wizard's message, the one who could save us from the war. Now I understood why I had received a rag doll in my backpack.

The child—or rather, our savior—looked up at me grumpily and shouted, "I want to play hide and seek with you, and I want to play now!" His voice was so commanding that, floating up there, I spread my hands to show I could do nothing from up high.

He seemed to understand because he let me down, but not gently. He dropped me, and luckily, I didn't land on the wooden blocks, though I still hit my side hard.

I got up, opened my backpack, and took out the rag doll, holding it out to him nervously while I began to babble: "Great lord, who stands above all, and we know that only in your power lies the ability to save us mere mortals from certain destruction, we humbly beseech you to deliver us from the spirits who are preparing for war against us."

While he liked the content of the message, my delivery didn't please him. He grimaced and replied, "Do it again but with more feeling!"

At least he had forgotten about hide and seek, I thought. I repeated the message repeatedly until I was kneeling and reciting it like an ode in a tearful voice, which finally pleased him. He gestured to the maid to pick him up, and they left the room without a word.

I was left there, feeling a bit humiliated, holding the rag doll. I had completed the task, but my ego was bruised by a child bossing me around.