Moohaine was the world upon which Thierry and Prudence lived. But what Prudence and most others did not know, was that the sea of this world was also the sea of another world that existed in the same place, but a different time. And these worlds were exactly the same but for one difference; a boy who existed in Thierry’s world who did not exist in Prudence’s world.
And this boy was Prudence’s son, Helvius, a boy who lived to be about twelve-years-old, and was then drowned in the sea because he had obliterated half of that parallel world. The existence of this boy changed everything about this parallel Moohaine from which Thierry was from. He seemed to have been dropped from the heaven’s into the parallel Prudence’s arms, and she thanked god everyday for the wonderful gift he had bestowed upon her.
When this boy appeared, strange things began happening all across Moohaine. People began to feel disoriented, and some of them began straight up disappearing. Thierry, being the king’s first-in-command in this world, was charged with investigating this bizarre phenomenon.
The first ones he consulted were the priests. The priests had no answer for him other than that it looked like the work of fell magic that should be condemned. At the suggestion of fell magic, Thierry knew he had to turn to the witches. He found three of them, doing evil magic in a cave near the castle. They didn’t see him when he approached, and had no time to make themselves alluring and attractive as they liked to. Instead, they were eyeless, ugly, beings—with sheaths of fat dangling from their stomachs and chins. Thierry asked when he was inside of their cave, “Witches. Do you know what is causing the unraveling of this world?”
The witches cackled hideously, and then they hissed, “We do. A mother’s love is causing it.”
“A mother’s love?” Thierry repeated incredulously. “You lie. A mother’s love could do no such thing.”
The witches looked at each other knowingly—as if they were the only ones in on a cruel joke. “Well, if you are unbelieving, then leave. We will not share our secret with you, anyway.”
Thierry stepped into the filthy cave. “We must exhaust all possibilities. Tell me what you mean when you say a mother’s love?”
The witches cackled as they stirred a pot that smelled suspiciously like blood. “We mean exactly as we say. A mother has wished for a child that should not exist, and we have given it to her.”
Thierry shook his head. “Who is this woman? When I have exhausted all possibilities, I will pay her a visit.
The witches grinned. “The woman is your true love. You’ll make her way to her—you’ll see.”
Thierry wasn’t so sure. He wanted to know who she was now. He grabbed one of the witch’s by her collar threateningly. “Tell me where she is now! This is a crisis that must be averted!”
But the witches just cackled—refusing to tell him. He released the witch and left their cave. After that, he returned to his kingdom—asking his king what they should do next. The king told him to speak to any mages who might have an idea of what was happening, and Thierry obliged. After speaking with what felt like one-hundred of them, he could find no information on why people seemed to be disappearing. But, when he asked the hundredth mage—a wizened old mage—she told him her theory.
“There is a book I have read several times in the past. It is a book that details an event similar to this. Previously, I thought it must be a fantasy, but now, I’m beginning to think it was historical in nature. In the book, a child who was not meant to be born was willed into existence by a mother who was unable to have her own children. This caused a wound in time, and people began disappearing.” The woman said unsteadily. “If this doesn’t get solved, I wouldn’t be surprised if we were all eventually obliterated from existence.”
Thierry couldn’t stand the thought of having his existence ripped from him—having no one remember him—because that was what happened when people disappeared. Everyone who knew them forgot their names, who they were, and what they did. The only thing they remembered about them was that they were gone.
Thierry refused to let that happen to himself.
He decided to pay a visit to the witches again. “Tell me where this hiccup in time is right now!” he yelled.
The witches merely cackled. “Never. If you want to find it, go search for it. Hopefully you’ll repair time before we are all swallowed by it.”
Thierry unsheathed his blade, pressing it against the woman’s throat. “Do you find it amusing how we’re all going to die? Why won’t you do anything to stop this?”
The witch grinned under her black hood—her pale skin looked almost translucent beneath it. “Because it is the desire of all witches to have this world return to dust. None of us are worthy of being human.”
Thierry couldn’t comprehend the woman’s slithery words. He couldn’t understand this perverse, wicked desire to wish humanity out of existence. He only knew it made his blood boil, and it made him want to choke the witch to death. He seized her neck, intending to do so. Seeing the life being squeezed out of her brought him great catharsis.
He squeezed harder.
Her skin became red, her eyes became wide, and yet she still cackled. In a fit of rage, Thierry tossed the woman to the floor. “Why do you wish to be nothing?”
The other witches—apparently unperturbed by the treatment of their friend—cackled as well. “Because if we don’t exist, we will no longer torture one another. We will no long stain the earth with our blood, and we will no longer feel pain. We will be given something marvelous in exchange for trading away our pain.”
Thierry retorted, “You will be given nothing! When you are gone, it will be as if you never existed! No one will remember our pains or our loves! Even if our race is nothing but a blight upon this world—and I don’t think we are—we deserve the right to grow and leave a mark to prove we were here!”
The witches had nothing else to say. They merely helped their choking sister to her feet and returned to making their foul cocktails and stirring their hideous pots. Thierry left, then, and decided to commit himself to trying to find this person who should not exist.
One year passed, and then two, and then three and it seemed as if half of the world had been wiped from existence. Thierry had no idea why he still lived, other than that it was some divine will from god that he save his species.
And eventually, he heard a tale originating from his rival kingdom of Ariskran. A tale of a young boy who had leveled an entire city with a single tantrum. The rumor sounded promising, so he traveled to the city that was destroyed, and was awed by the state of it. It was nothing but rubble, smoke, and lifeless bodies. Thierry heard the sound of gentle weeping nearby, and found a man crying behind a fallen pillar.
Thierry knelt beside him. “Who did this?” he asked.
“A boy.” The man trembled. “A boy with no eyes. I think his name was Helvius.”
And Thierry rose to his feet. “Do you know where he went to?”
“He and his mother went east.” The man broke into a hideous sob. Thierry, having compassion in his heart for the man, asked him if he could guide him to the nearest town, but the man refused. He was content to die there, among the corpses of the people he loved.
Thierry could never understand this complacency, but he let the man be. He had no time to lose. In any moment, he could be blinked out of existence. He traveled eastward on his steed until he arrived at the next town. It was here that he learned that the woman and her son had gone south. Thierry followed them south, hoping against hope that killing the boy would heal this wound in time.
Finally, when he arrived at the next town, he caught up to the woman and her son. He saw them playing on a beach. The boy—who looked to be about twelve—was running around, being chased by his mother.
Thierry had no qualms about killing the boy. He needed to act quickly, as each moment might be his last. He nocked an arrow to his bow and trained it on the boy. But suddenly… he had a feeling in his heart that he knew that boy—that he was very fond of him—and he felt his heart skip a beat when he looked at the boy’s mother. A woman who was plain by any standards, but there was a certain specialness about her that held Thierry’s eyes captive. He lowered his bow for a moment, cursing. It wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be.
He swallowed. This boy’s blood will be on my hands…
He knew it was a small price to play for saving the world, but if he were wrong, he would be killing someone who wasn’t the cause of the wound in time. At the same time, the boy had leveled an entire city. Perhaps he did deserve to die.
He shook his head, shaking his doubts away with it. I have no time to debate this.
Thierry focused his bow on the boy again. He took a sharp breath. He fired the arrow. It whizzed through the air and missed boy by an inch.
“Mom, what was that?” The boy asked.
The boy’s mother looked around, her eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. “I don’t know, but we should go immediately.”
The woman took her son by the shoulders, shielding him with her own body. Thierry cursed. If I have to take this woman down, too, then so be it. If I have to lose my own humanity to save humanity, then so be it!
He launched another arrow. It pierced the woman’s head. She collapsed with a grunt. The boy knelt by his mother. If he had had eyes, Thierry was sure he would have been crying. Thierry’s own hands were shaking. He could hardly believe what he had done. He wept for the poor woman, and knew he had better finish the job if he had come this far.
As Thierry watched the boy sniffle over his mother’s deceased body, cradling it in his arms, Thierry felt the need to pray—pray to god to forgive him for his egregious sins.
He could hear seagulls chirping and the gentle waves lapping the sandy shore. He gazed at the vibrant, orange sunset, and wondered if, in another life, he could have been this woman’s husband, and this boy’s father, because they seemed like such a loving, caring family. Once he had had his moment of prayer, he stepped out from the shadows and approached the boy. He was out of arrows. He had to kill the boy with his own hands.
He approached the boy with his fists clenched. The boy found himself retreating toward the sea. Thierry sped after him, but the boy kept retreating further and further until the sea had swallowed him. Thierry checked for the boy’s body, but it was nowhere to be found. He assumed the boy had died, however, because later on, the scar in time had been healed.
Nonetheless, it didn’t make his world look any prettier. Most people were blipped out of existence, and Thierry couldn’t live with what he had done. He asked mages and witches alike what he could possibly do to make himself feel better. The mages suggested a life of repentance, the witches suggested something entirely different.
“The sea you drowned the boy in…” the witches said. “It will take you to another world. A world that is unaffected by what this one suffered. In that land, you will find all the people you loved here are there, and the ones who disappeared will be there, too. The only problem is, it is up to fate whether you make it there. You may die, or you may live. Be aware, too, that when you do this, the you of that world will change places with the you of this world.”
"If I go there... will I cause a wound in time?" Thierry asked.
"No. You were meant to exist. Even if you die and the you of this other world lives, a wound in time will not be caused."
Because he couldn’t live with himself in this world, he decided to try the adjacent world. He drowned himself, and when he awoke, he was lying on the shores of another world. He was brought before the king, and recognized. In this world, he was still an up and coming soldier in the king’s army, and from there, he lived a slightly more peaceful life, until he met the woman who he had killed in his original world, and fell deeply in love with her.
Neither did he expect to see the boy he had killed again in that world—and expect to love him even deeper than he did Prudence.
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