The Butterfly Effect

They stayed at Ilystalos (being closer to their destination than the camp) for the rest of the night. It was early morning by the time they got started, even if it had only given room for a couple of hours of sleep. She presumed the only thing that really mattered was that Kiah was alert, being the only one that could really do anything; not only was she alert, but surprisingly so compared to the rest of them.

There wasn’t much for them to talk about. Lydia tried, though they were either short-lived conversations or no one particularly seemed interested in them. What it came down to was a few repeats of information they already knew and a reinstated sense of dread each time. The facts seemed to be right in front of them: judging by everything they knew, they could very well die here.

Samone had started to feel uneasy just as they were about to make camp for the night. It wasn’t inherently unlike what could normally be sensed during nights outside; a sense of being watched, of something right behind you that might very well drag you into the darkness with it. But those had all been weaker, something that might be ignored if there was something else to do. This couldn’t be ignored so simply. It wasn’t supposed to be ignored, because to be ignored meant something much, much worse than just that feeling.

Someone must’ve said something because they immediately all became more aware of it. Who that person was, though, was something she didn’t know—or rather, didn’t remember. None of the five had said anything, yet their shared reaction meant that someone had.

The shadows were twisting around them, breaking away from the objects they once belonged to. They gained their own form—almost humanlike—and came together as a hive mind. Their eyes served like something of a beacon, warning of a fate that was already too late to prevent. They were surrounded by Skiá.

Kiah drew her sword as soon as she noticed it, though she slowly began to realize what they were actually doing. “They’re… completely ignoring us?” She wasn’t disappointed when she said it; after all, if the Skiá weren’t going to trouble them, then there was a good chance that they were safe.

“You act surprised.” It was a voice only familiar to Samone. One that she, admittedly, wanted to sigh as soon as she heard it. “Don’t you know who you’re traveling with?”

“Who the hell are you?” Kiah turned to face Zokel, in no way more at ease by being in his presence.

“That’s Zokel,” Samone rushed, knowing exactly what the older would do if another second was spent without an answer. “He’s the Fos. You can’t stab him.” She bit back the ‘unfortunately’ that threatened to escape her lips.

“Well, you could,” Zokel remarked casually. “But I’d highly advise against it unless you want much bigger problems.” He acted like any of them understood what he was talking about. “Though whether or not I can die is another matter completely. That’s not what I’m here for. Are you even trying to follow my instructions?”

“I thought of a story Dad told me once!” Lydia defended. “We’re following that path to an entrance of the Caverns! Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Not when it’s not related to anything I thought was obvious,” Zokel responded. “Your job wasn’t to think of things that happened in your lifetime. Doing that doesn’t solve anything. You’ll only really know what you’re supposed to be doing if you’ve seen it through the eyes of someone who did.” He sighed. “How about this: since none of you are getting it, I’ll help you out. Just make your camp and go to sleep. I’ll handle the rest from there.”

Samone hoped she wasn’t the only one who felt uneasy being watched. She knew he probably didn’t mean any harm in it. There was no reason why he would. In fact, she had a good understanding of what he might end up doing… Maybe that was why she found it so hard to sleep before dreariness forced itself upon her.

…

It felt like an incredibly large family for most of them being average, lower-class nobles. There was Kesem, Parpar (Iris’s mother), their three brothers, their parents, not to mention their aunts and uncles and cousins. It never made sense to her why Kesem, having lost his one true love before then and never marrying since, was the person chosen to take up Jaden’s spot in the court. The only thing he had in his favor was that he was the eldest son and knew enough about magic to count as the court’s magister at the time. But there was more against him: he was already verging on thirty at that point, with no children, and even then he wasn’t in the best of health. He then defeated the whole purpose of it by adopting a daughter; someone to succeed him in everything, even though she held no relation at all to any Jaden.

He’d, surprisingly, been very honest with the five-year-old Samone when he explained it to her. Not like she would’ve taken anything except for the truth for an answer. She was a pretty bright kid and knew that a family of black-haired, brown-eyed people didn’t create someone like her. He told her that she was likely more closely related to the royal family by Queen Clarimonda’s side than any Jaden. Tyche, when they met nearly seven years later, confirmed it.

That was around the time the dream was set in. Tyche had taken Samone away from their magic practice for a walk through the Northern Gardens. They’d ended up finding a spot on the brick fence to sit, and Tyche quickly abandoned her to get something from the nearby market. When she returned, she had two cream puffs and handed one to Samone.

“I know we’ve been practicing, but that’s no reason to not tell me about it,” the older remarked as she sat on the fence. “It feels like everyone in Levi Asari is talking about it… except for you.”

“I don’t see a reason to,” Samone mumbled. “I think she’s finally gone nuts.”

“Come on, don’t say it like that. I think Lady Ornetta chose a beautiful girl to replace her.”

“At this point the qualification for the Red Rose should just be ‘lives in Levi Asari.’ Everyone seems to be congratulating me on something I shouldn’t have.”

“You should be happy. This means they consider you just as much as family as anyone else.”

“At the expense of ruining whatever meaning the title was supposed to have.”

“I’m not going to be able to convince you to think positively about this, am I?”

“Probably not, no.”

“Well, either way, I hope you start to like it. I think it’s perfect for you.”

All of it began to fade into something… blurrier. She was no longer with Tyche, nor was she in any place she knew she should recognize. That didn’t keep her from the sense that she’d seen these faded surroundings before, even if she didn’t know where.

She was bowing to someone. She’d never bowed to anyone before, not even Casper, yet… it still felt like something she did. When she thought about it, the only answer she could think of was “you’ve done this before.” It didn’t make sense, but it was the only kind of explanation she had.

“I’m forever in your command.” That wasn’t her voice. It still sounded familiar, but she kept telling herself it was because it was hers. It was completely contradictory yet she paid no greater mind to it. None of it made sense but that didn’t seem to matter.

“Well, you’ve got no choice by now.” It was another voice she knew she recognized, though she couldn’t put a name to this one either. “This isn’t something you just stop whenever you want to. You’re my little doll until the end of time itself… or until I get bored of you, whichever one comes first.”

“Just get to the point. I’m not here for idle chatter and you know that.”

“You hurt my feelings. Look at Talia, she never talks back to me.” It was obviously said teasingly, complete with a fake pout. “But I won’t waste your time any longer. Now listen very carefully, I despise repeating myself…”