The Butterfly Effect

It happened again; his mind went blank and he did something he didn’t mean to. Except this was worse. Way, way worse. He nearly killed her. The only reason she was still alive at all was because of magic.

All he could think about was what they must’ve been thinking behind their cool exteriors. They must’ve hated him—wanted nothing to do with them. They had to. Why else would they make him stay for dinner, make it sound like nothing major happened at all? He’d screwed up and nearly destroyed everything they’d worked towards for longer than he’d been alive. There was no coming back from this.

“Any news from Qizar?” Samone prompted. She didn’t sound like she cared, but the smell of smoke was impossible to hide at this point.

“She’s awake now, at least,” Imre sighed. “Tavin was able to talk with her before he had to go and it sounds like she’s doing fine. Maybe he won’t be so worried when he comes back…”

“The Andreas are a lot tougher than they look,” Kiah remarked, “she’ll be fine.”

It was at that point something else became the center of attention. Imre’s frown deepened. “Natheniel, you haven’t eaten anything.”

Under the table, Natheniel was picking at a scab on his hand. He didn’t care if it hurt or bled again. It was nothing compared to what he did to her. “I’m not hungry.”

“At least try,” Imre urged. His concern was lost in the boy, however—it warped into mocking, a sign of their hidden hatred. “You’ve hardly eaten since you came back from Qizar…”

Natheniel’s response was mumbles. He felt sick looking at it. He must’ve gotten paler, too, because Samone reached across to put a hand on his shoulder; he flinched at the contact.

She looked between him and Imre when she pulled her hand away again. “I think it’s time you tell him, Nokae.”

“I’d really rather have Dimas here…” Imre mumbled.

“Better now than never,” Kiah pointed out. “I mean, this really should’ve been done already.”

“You don’t need to tell me.” Natheniel abruptly got up. “You don’t have to tell me to leave. I’ll do it myself.”

“That’s not what I—“

But he was already gone, marching up to his room with a solemn kind of finality. He wouldn’t let himself believe that they wanted him. There was no way they did. His mind had turned against him and made sure everything else seemed to, too.

No one would notice if he left. They never cared from the start and they definitely weren’t going to start now. He went to his room and waited for the moment he was told to leave; the knocking made him work faster, the desperate calls became jeers and threats, and the attempt of entry was greeted with a small spell.

The brief silence pressured him even more. He gathered a change of clothes and some snacks lying around his room. It didn’t need to get him far. It just needed to get him far enough away that they couldn't find him… assuming they tried searching at all.

Only for a moment was his resolve broken when he heard Ihu’s confused chirp.

Natheniel managed a small smile and patted them on the head. “You’ve got to stay here, buddy. They may hate me but they don’t hate you. They’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” With the way they rubbed their head against his hand, he had to wonder if they actually understood what he was saying and what he was about to do. Another familiar voice—one he hadn’t heard in a long time—called out at that moment, begging him to stay, but they’d abandoned him before and he had no intentions of trusting them again.

He couldn’t leave through the door, someone was still banging against it; waiting for it to stop would mean risking not being able to leave. At this point, he’d gone too far to back out. He slid the window open and, with the careful use of magic, got himself out of the castle and into the streets of Lelishara. He didn’t look back when he heard his name. It was only a trick to get him to continue being in that living hell, torturing him by acting like nothing had ever changed.

Things would never truly get back to normal, he thought, until he was gone completely.

So he kept running, no matter what he heard behind him or what the familiar voice warned him of. He soon followed a new voice, one that got louder as the rest of the world faded away.

“So our story starts with Ekambar,

A curious boy who sought to know the world

Who soon, in the sky, whirled;

Took up his father’s wax and feather wings

Without thinking of the trouble it brings

Challenging himself to fly afar!”

He slowed down when he reached the forest, no longer able to hear his pursuers.

“Disaster struck on the morrow;

For his travels took him many places

And, caught up in imaginary races,

Failed to recognize the stranger

That would soon, his family, endanger

Oh! The coming sorrow!”

A sense of serenity washed over him as he weaved through the trees.

“The days turned desperate—

For around him they fell,

Finding their way to where Vriuh does dwell.

He sought the world for a cure,

Yet looked to find no more.

Gave himself to the search with no respite.”

The world went completely silent. His head was devoid of all thoughts beyond the call to find the voice.

“Soon he had little remaining,

So again he went to seek

What could change what turned so bleak.

Faster! Faster, he flew,

Up into the sky then into the ocean blue

For his feathers gone and wax draining.”

There was a patch of moonlight, now, by the river. He kept getting closer.

“Vriuh looked upon him, welcoming

Until a messenger came from the Creator

To Him, this boy was a traitor—

Betrayer of design, so he shall return;

His soul, one that none shall mourn—

Eternal life and death was his sentencing.”

A woman was sitting by the riverbed. She’d been the source of the voice. She smiled at him, but the gesture held no comfort or warmth. “What’s a boy like you doing out here alone, I wonder?”

“I ran away. They didn’t want me.” A part of him wondered what he was doing here. Still, he sat beside her. “That song was about Ekambar, wasn’t it? I haven’t heard anything like that sung in Qizar, where’d you learn it?”

“The phoenixes themselves taught it to me when I followed their migration after the death of my love,” she responded wistfully. To hear her have such an emotion… he eased, figuring he shouldn’t judge on appearances. Little did he know that he was doing exactly what she wanted him to: let his guard down. “I believe it helps showcase Orestis’s judgment, don’t you think? The things He’ll do for His plan and no one will ever question Him.”

“I wish anyone would listen to me like that,” he remarked with a laugh.

“What would you do if someone did?”

“I’d get my guardians to tell me what they’re hiding. I mean, I used to listen to them. Now I figure if they don’t trust me then I shouldn’t trust them… I just wish I knew why.”

“Are you sure? Some secrets are kept for good reasons, you know. The truth is often the hardest thing.”

“You sound like them. They used to make promises, saying we’ll all go out into Lelishara or even just that we’d all be there for dinner. I guess they finally realized there was no use in making them if they were never going to be kept.”

She leaned forward to dip her fingers into the water. “Nothing hurts more than an unfulfilled promise. I’ve had more than a few myself, if I’m being honest. I’m sure you do, too, if you take the time to think about it.” She smiled, pulling her hand out and flicking the water in Natheniel’s direction. “What if I told you that I could make your wish come true?”

His senses came back to him at that moment and he stood up and backed away. “I’d ask who you are.”

She laughed. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want an honest answer to, prince.”

There were other noises in the distance again. She looked in the direction of the noise for a moment before turning her attention back to him. “This only holds up as long as we’re both willing to keep it that way. Do you think you can leave? That everything will be fine just because someone else gets to come between us? Remember what they’re going to do to you. They aren’t following you to help you. They want you dead.”

“How do you know that?” Conflicting thoughts kept running through his head; one voice assured him that she was right, while the other was desperately calling for him to get as far away from her as he could.

“Do you think I wouldn’t recognize a fragment of my own creation?” Even as he got further away she followed, taking a step forward at every step he took back.

“What?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to kill you. You’re far too valuable for that. No, instead you’ll simply be keeping her company… in a place where neither Orestis’s light nor Vriuh’s glow dare to shine.”

The noises were getting louder, more recognizable voices now; Natheniel had the thought to call out to them, but it was already too late.

The woman forced him against a tree and with a devilish grin asked, “Eísai étoimos na fygeis?”

Are you ready to depart?