The Butterfly Effect

They headed back to the Stone Estate, by Lydia’s suggestion all waiting to go about their separate ways.

“Dad! We got a bunch of stuff while we were out,” she called as soon as Andrew walked inside. She pulled out the few that were in her satchel, letting Tim and Henry take out the ones they’d carried.

His attention, despite being set on his conversation with Lustris before, was now completely on the four of them. He quietly excused her and she just stood there while he looked over all of the artifacts they’d brought back. He rattled names off when he saw them, growing more impressed and amazed with each one done. “This is all amazing—so many hidden treasures, all right here! Where did you find all of them?”

“They were all in the archives we went to,” Lydia explained with a puff of pride. “There’s a bunch more, too, that we weren’t able to bring back with us. We took the ones I knew you’d like to see the most.”

“You’ve outdone yourselves,” he remarked. “I never would have expected you to find all these, let alone in one place.” That and his nod brought all four of them a rush of satisfaction to know that they, for three the first and for all perhaps the last time, got a compliment from Andrew Stone.

The otherwise sobering atmosphere of the moment was broken when he snatched one of them. “Mylian’s Dagger? Said to be made of ichor and absorbing some of his golden touch, anything that the blade comes in contact with turns to gold!” With clear excitement, he tapped it on a nearby vase and gained a childish smile when it turned to gold.

“With all due respect, Andrew,” Lustris interjected from where she stood, “is that really wise? All the gold in the world can’t buy love. Mylian learned that when Ilara wasn’t reverted like all the other things that turned into gold. You’d realize that, too, if you ever cared to read the legend.”

“She’s right,” he said after a pause. “Tim, you can’t have this. It’s too dangerous.” Then it seemed he didn’t hear Lustris at all, walking away and mumbling, “Now, I wonder what would happen if I stuck it into the earth..?”

“Wait, Andrew! That definitely can’t be a good idea!” Lustris rushed after him.

“I can get it for you later, as long as you promise not to turn either of your brothers or any of your cousins into gold,” Lydia said casually, glancing at Tim. His face lit up and he nodded ecstatically.

Elena and Lewis replaced them, deciding not to question the fragments of what they saw. Lewis naturally wandered over to look at what they had out as well, though Elena stayed further away.

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” she mumbled, her small smile making all the difference in distinguishing it from the contempt Diana often used. “It feels like you guys left yesterday…”

“Time flies when you’re chasing half a dozen kids around the house and can’t find the rest,” Lewis agreed. He gestured to the gathered artifacts and asked, “So which one of these are a part of your adventure?”

Lydia took it out of the special spot in her satchel, along with the ring. “The ring’s reflection changed when it was close to this, but we haven’t been able to figure out what it’s supposed to lead us to.”

Elena slowly moved a little closer. “No wonder. A man’s face is hardly anything to go off of.”

“Was there anything else with it?” Lewis offered.

“If there was, Witless, I would’ve mentioned that already,” Lydia pointed out. “It was just with most of this other stuff.”

“It won’t hurt to take some time off of it and see if anything comes back later,” Elena remarked. “I’m sure you’ll probably come up with something after a while.”

“Why not a trip to town?” Lewis suggested. “The Lantern Festival’s tonight, so maybe we can get our lanterns before they’re out.”

Lydia smirked. “For once you’ve got a good idea! Come on. Imre’s probably waiting for us anyway.”

What exactly happened after that turned into a blur. It wasn’t important; they got their lanterns and met with the others closer to dawn. She didn’t remember what she said to them if she said anything to them at all. For a minute she wondered why she had two lanterns and Tavin, much closer to Imre and Dimas than before, held three. But it didn’t matter.

They sent out the lanterns with the solemn words, “Boreí to fos na se vrei.”

There was a break in the fantasy at that moment. It was a mix of memories, though they were real this time. She felt like she was on the verge of waking up from a dream but she just kept praying that this wasn’t going to be the end.

She hated to admit she recognized the scene immediately. Before her was a group of eager listeners, and the tale she told was the recently-concluded trip to the Caverns.

“Then just like that! The horn was set ablaze and the Minotaur was defeated with a loud, sickening roar!”

The crowd erupted into cheering, followed by several series of questions. And, of course, one of the questions came from Kiah. “Did you dream that part? It didn’t do anything.”

“Can’t a girl tell a fun story?” Lydia returned, hopping down from the fountain edge she’d found herself on. “So it may be a little dramatic. Do you think they know the difference?” She gestured to the crowd, who were still reeling over the ending.

Kiah grumbled something and, with a wave of her hand, wandered to where Imre disappeared to.

Lydia jumped when she heard someone else’s voice. “That was an interesting story there. Amazing the kind of stuff that’s just waiting to be discovered.”

She beamed. “I know, right?” She held out her hand. “I’m Lydia, by the way.”

There was a moment of hesitance before he shook her hand. “Reineke.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. Where are you from?”

“Pagetri, near Arathas.”

“Fancy. So what brings a rich guy like you to a place like this?”

“My father asked that I oversee some business here in Mikkel territory. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d find anything aside from a bunch of old men.”

She laughed. “Well, I bet you’re pleasantly surprised!”

He smiled. “I am. Say, do you have some spare time? I’d love to get to know you better.”

Her biggest mistake was ever listening to him. Everyone had something to say; Diana pointed out his family history (apparently they’d been involved in a relatively large scandal a couple of decades ago), Andrew wouldn’t let him in but never said why, and nearly everyone else that saw them together commented how wrong it felt to be around him. So, perhaps, instead of listening to him, her mistake was not listening to everyone else… to think that she could prove them all wrong.

To show that she was capable of moving on too.

It was obvious that their time together as a group of adventurers was at its end. No one wanted to go out anymore—what little enthusiasm they had was gone now. Somehow she just knew that the Minotaur was the last beast they would tame. They were already growing further apart and this was just the beginning.

Then he made the suggestion.

He didn’t like the result and she needed to learn the hard way just how right everyone else was. That was the last time she ever saw him, though honestly she was glad after a little while.

Lydia had assured herself that it was going to be okay—that this wasn’t all bad. It was going to get better. That is, until it definitely wasn’t. She never knew one of them; the other died after two days.

Then came the first Lantern Festival after it happened.

Elena slowly opened the door. “Lydia..? Dad says it’s time to go…”

“Just admit it,” Lydia mumbled, tugging the blankets closer, “you’ll be happy if I don’t show up.”

“No one said that.”

“They’re sure as hell thinking it. I’m not stupid, Ellie.”

“I think… it might help. Maybe it’ll bring a sense of closure.”

“Or I become the model of everything everyone shouldn’t be.”

She tried and failed to keep the blankets as Elena gently pulled them away. “You’ll never know unless you try.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

“It does you no good to be cooped up in here all by yourself.”

Lydia begrudgingly got out of bed and went with the rest of them. It didn’t make her feel any better; Imre was the only one to acknowledge her, though he kept his distance. No one knew what to say—or, at the very least, whatever they wanted to say was best left in private.

She wrote the names on the two little lanterns herself. When they all gathered to the river, she slipped them in, staring at the names Timothy and Henry. She was unable to muster any words while the rest of the crowd said, “Boreí to fos na se vrei.”