FATELESS: A Boy’s Bonds

Forsaken Future

 

The effect was instantaneous. As soon as I felt the spirit’s unnaturally cool touch upon my brow, everything was washed away.

For a moment, I was floating in a stark void. When the world finally returned to how it was, I was standing in my familiar bedroom.

Wait…

I was looking down at my legs, standing as if I hadn’t just fallen from a cliff two days prior. All of the bandages were gone, too, replaced by everyday clothes probably taken from my drawers.

I looked around the room for Zakarot, finding that I was alone. The soft light flitting through my window had also vanished, replaced by the inky darkness of night-time.

Did I fall asleep? What did he do to me?

My next instinct was to call his name, demanding answers. That was when I noticed my mouth wouldn’t open. In-fact, my entire body felt numb. There was a surreal disconnect between my thoughts and actions, as body was rebelling against mind.

Even my eyes, glued to the dark window, would not move.

The strange feeling may have made me nauseous if I’d been in control of my stomach. Just as that thought came to me, my body moved of its own volition.

I couldn’t do anything but stare wherever my eyes were pointed, as my body strode out of the bedroom. Our house was dark, the hall-way unusually quiet. You can usually hear either Father’s or Abel’s boisterous voices, no matter where you are in the house.

Now, the silence was enough to make my ears ring.

Footsteps and creaking wood echoed loudly through that silence, and there was something else on the edge of my perception. It sounded like wind lashing against the walls, a fierce storm raging outside.

That was doubly strange, because no-one leaves the house when the weather gets bad.

A strange stench wafted from somewhere deeper into the house, and I felt the need to investigate.

Fortunately, my body seemed to have the same idea.

Body and mind traveled through an empty living room and past the kitchen, making their way to the front door. Aside from being so dark, everything looked the same as it ever did. The same home I’d known all my life.

Except for the door being wide open.

Nobody in Geimhread leaves their doors open. This would be akin to inviting the harsh elements and hungry wildlife into your home. Our parents aren’t so careless, particularly Mother.

My body stopped moving for a moment, as if listening to the storm raging beyond the threshold, before continuing its advance.

Upon leaving our home, my thoughts became a spiraling mess. My eyes briefly scanned the surrounding village, but it took me a while to realize that what I’d been hearing was no storm at all.

All of the buildings surrounding me were aflame. The stench of burning wood was pushed into my nostrils, as well as something sweet and acrid.

Is someone roasting meat?

Amidst the cacophony of roaring flames, I could hear something more. Some kind of music—a song, perhaps. It was loud and falsetto, a chorus that rang throughout the entire village from every conceivable direction.

Though I couldn't identify the sources, it sounded like the music was coming from within burning homes and strange lumps sprawled across the ground.

Though my instincts told me to move closer, to investigate, my body was no longer moving. My gaze shifted up toward the clouds of ash blanketing Flykra Village, and I noted that little white flakes were falling.

Snow…?

The sight of the soft flakes was in stark contrast to the burning village, the dichotomy serving to confuse me further.

BOOM!

My body shook as a tremor tore through the village, reaching for the side of our house for stability. Eyes rushing toward the village’s center, I noticed a ring of orange flames obscuring my vision. My body must have seen the same sight, but had the opposite reaction.

I felt myself being pulled toward the ring of destruction, legs entering a dead sprint.

What are you doing…? Run away!

My protests fell on deaf ears; I couldn’t do anything as my body refused to obey me. It sprinted toward the flames, huffing and covering its nose while tearing through walls of black ash.

It stopped abruptly.

My eyes shifted down toward the scorched ground. It took me a very long time to process what I saw. My mind could not comprehend the absurdity of seeing him there, amidst the chaos. As I struggled to connect the dots, my body had already fallen to its knees.

It heaved, the contents of my stomach spewing forth onto the ashen ground. And the kneeling position brought me face-to-face with the source of my utter confusion.

On the charred stone tiles that made up Flykra’s center square, I stared into a pair of dark eyes. Abel was lying on the ground, eyes wide as he looked up at the sky. A thin stream of red liquid spilled from both his mouth and nose, and I wondered what it was.

Knowing Abel, it was probably wine.

Leftover from the spring festival, no doubt. Abel had gotten too drunk and passed out. I’d seen it happen many times before, and knew that my brother would get off without so much of a slap on the wrist.

Though, why was my body reacting this way? I never enjoyed seeing Abel, but this seemed a bit dramatic. I was trembling fiercely, tears streaming down my face as a hoarse scream escaped from within my lips.

Why?

My body continued to scream, the sound echoing into the night as my mind struggled to ascertain what was happening. That was when my gaze moved down the length of Abel’s torso, and to his waist.

Huh?

Abel’s legs were missing.

To be more apt, everything below his navel had been reduced into a repulsive black mush that soiled the ground around him. His clothes—always so much nicer than mine or Lara’s—had been burned to a crisp. His face was the only part of his body left untouched.

I didn’t understand, unable to keep up. This was just a dream. I assured myself that I was dreaming, this was nothing more than a simple nightmare. Yes, a nightmare borne from reading too many stories before bed. Everything since the festival was a dream.

Anika Beckett, Zakarot, and…this.

Father’s thunderous knocks would wake me from my slumber, and for once, I would thank him. This was a dream I never wanted to visit again.

KWA-KOOM!

Another tremor shook the village, and my blood ran cold. Soot covered hands rubbing at my eyes, I looked past Abel and through the ring of flames. There, two figures were dancing in-front of the village chief’s house.

One was sheathed in a glimmering blue aura, while the other was covered in orange flames. I didn’t know why anyone would be dancing at a time like this, but one of the dancers seemed familiar.

My heart dropped through my stomach, but I couldn’t figure out why.

A roaring inferno spewed from the larger of the dancers, obliterating the chief’s already ruined house. The smaller of the dancers swiftly evaded the cascading sea of flames and hastily sent several projectiles toward their orange counterpart.

The flying crystals shone brightly in the flames’ angry light, before being swallowed by another wave of fire.

But the blue dancer seemed to have expected that.

They used the projectiles as a distraction, rushing toward the flaming dancer. A deluge of white mist surged forward, enveloping flames and foe alike. Everything around them turned to glimmering crystal, a sight that invoked a strange familiarity in my heart.

Something was crawling up the surface of my forearms, but my attention was solely focused on the dancers’ performance.

From the white mist, came the silhouette of the larger dancer. His flames having been rendered useless, a furious roar echoed through the village. Then, another aura of flame was born anew.

This one was different.

Black flames lashed wildly, blasting toward the other dancer. These flames radiated no heat, instead causing everything in their vicinity to simply fall apart.

Even the icy mist conjured by the blue dancer was taken by the flames, leaving them defenseless. Again, something stabbed at my chest. It felt like a part of me, buried deep, wished to move closer toward the unnatural inferno.

But both body and mind fought against the urge, working in tandem to remain on the sidelines.

Both knew that approaching them tantamount to suicide.

The flame-wreathed dancer charged at the faltering blue dancer, a downpour of black flames removing the latter from my sight. And when the flames cleared, there was no sign of the blue dancer.

The snow ceased its fall, and somehow, I understood that I’d just lost something irreplaceable.

But no further cries escaped from my lips. Instead, my body fell forward. My limp torso resting against what was left of my elder brother, I listened to the sound of approaching footsteps.

“That bitch put up quite a fight, huh?”

A voice like a knife grating against glass rang out amidst the raging flames. Someone came and stood in-front of me, their shadow casting me into darkness.

I didn’t look up, couldn’t. Neither body nor mind had the motivation to get back up.

“I wasn’t expecting this trip to be so much fun. Shame it’s gotta come to an end.”

The stranger reached down, grabbing a hold of my hair; it was longer than I remembered. “You ain’t putting up much of a fight, though,” he said. “To think that those guys were scared of a little baby.”

I felt black flames nipping at my body like thousands of bee stings. The stranger spit, and something wet landed on my cheek. I was lifted from the ground by my hair, and finally met his eyes.

There was something very familiar about them. I was staring into two black voids, the darkness held within so thick that it trailed down both cheeks.

Beyond the dark gaze, half of the man’s face was pale and blistered. His hair had been removed from his head, leaving only ginger tufts on the opposite side.

He sneered, regarding me as if I was nothing more than a piece of trash.

“What a fuckin’ disappointment.” The flames continued to creep up my body, eating away at my frozen body. “Give your mama a kiss on the cheek for me, will ya?”

And with those final words barely registered in my addled brain, I was engulfed in shadows.

Black flames.

Abel’s vacant gaze, his missing lower half, both burned into my memory.

The blue dancer falling behind the curtain of flame, never to be return.

I could hear that black-eyed man laughing, an awful noise. My body screamed, but I was left trapped inside without relief.

Trapped.

Burning.

Dying.

‘I think that’s enough.’

A second voice echoed through my mind. It was distant, this one also irritating, but strangely comforting. Familiar.

And there was a note of sympathy in it.

That awful world of fire and ash was erased, replaced by the inside of my bedroom once again.

I sat in my bed, staring vacantly ahead.

What…was that?

Day turned to night. A village on fire. Abel. That blue dancer.

Those black flames. A man with black eyes.

An intense hatred burned within me, unlike anything I’d felt prior. “Zakarot…” I said through gritted teeth, noticing that the night beyond my window had turned back to day. “What did you do to me?”

The spirit had reached out, bandaged fingers brushing against my forehead. Giving way to that awful, terrible scene…

My body trembled beneath my blankets, and I bent over the side of the bed. The contents of my stomach poured onto the floor. Abel’s corpse, half-melted, flashed before my eyes.

Zakarot remained silent as I wretched and gagged, tears streaking down my cheeks. I’d watched the events unfold as an observer, barely feeling any physical sensations. Now, everything came rushing out of me.

Terror, disgust, and grief for the brother I'd scorned for years.

There were times when I’d wished Abel was dead. I always thought that our lives would be easier without him, and perhaps that was true. However, actually seeing the final result was another story.

Then, I recalled those two dancers.

One of flame and one of snow, twirling and leaping around the village like faeries amidst smoke and ash. No, I knew better than that. It was no dance routine I’d seen.

That was a desperate struggle, a battle that ended with someone’s life being snuffed out.

Deep down, I understood who that person was.

But I couldn’t think about that.

Not now.

Forcefully tearing my thoughts away from the painful memories, I wiped my mouth and turned back to Zakarot. The hooded spirit let out a sigh, a tense silence falling upon us. It remained this way for many breaths, before ending with another sigh.

“That was the future.”

My heart sank. The future? Ignoring the fact that peering into the future seemed completely absurd, I just couldn’t accept that what I’d seen was real. I couldn’t accept the sight of Flykra Village in flames, of Abel, and…

“W-Why?” I asked, voice cracking slightly.

“Sorry, but I spared you the most gruesome parts. Trust me.”

I couldn’t imagine how. Then again, Father and Lara had been missing from that vision. Maybe it could have been worse.

“Why would you show me that?” I repeated.

“You were going to revoke the contract, so I showed you the consequences of doing so.”

“Are you telling me…” Fists clenched, I glared up at Zakarot. “You’re going to kill them?”

“No,” Zakarot replied, wagging a finger back-and-forth. “You will.”

I blinked. Once, twice.

My exhausted mind grappled with Zakarot’s words, unable to understand their meaning. The robes spirit raised a bandaged hand to his head, as if trying to run it through his hair, before remembering he was wearing a hood. The hand fell back into his lap with a sigh.

“Do you remember what I told you the other night?” Zakarot asked. “About being a curse upon those around you?”

Wincing, I thought back to our first interaction. Though much of that night was still hazy, those words still rung with vivid clarity.

‘Your existence is a curse upon those around you. They would all lead much happier lives without you.’

My pained reaction did not go unnoticed, as Zakarot nodded before continuing. “I’m sorry to say this, but I wasn’t lying. Your existence is a curse. The future I’ve shown you happens not of any fault of your own, but because of you nonetheless.”

“I don’t understand,” I replied. “T-There was a man. He was on fire, and he had these…these dark eyes.”

“Yes, I’m aware. But he was only here because of you. After all, that wasn’t the first time you’ve seen those eyes.”

“Huh?”

For some reason, upon hearing those words, the image of a young woman flashed into memory. Dark hair, pale skin, and a pair of wild, colorless eyes. Tears of ink running down both cheeks. A chill ran down my spine. I had seen those eyes before.

Recently, in-fact.

“Anika Beckett…” I said, trailing off.

The woman who’d chased me through the woods, displaying abnormal physical strength. She’d looked like a wild animal, tearing herself apart in her attempt to reach me. Going as far as throwing both of us from a cliff, leading to her own demise.

This memory invoked a similar feeling to when I’d seen the flaming dancer’s frostbitten face.

“That’s right,” Zakarot replied. “Anika wasn’t nearly as powerful, but both of them were cursed by the same being.”

I looked up, still somewhat dazed. “Cursed?”

“Well, from a certain point of view. It can make them stronger, both physically and magically, but it comes with the cost of their sanity. Weaker-willed victims like Anika will be eaten away until there’s nothing left but a husk.”

I swallowed hard. His explanation made sense; images of trees being halved by a housewife holding a kitchen knife came to mind. As well as those terrifying black flames, eating away at everything around them. Something deep inside of me knew that neither of which were natural feats.

Which begged the question…

“Where does this curse come from?” I asked. “And what does it have to do with me?”

“That’s a long story.”

“I have time.”

“Not as much as you think.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but then realization struck. Eyes widening, my jaw clamped tightly shut as I stared at the spirit. My understanding of Zakarot’s meaning seemed to weigh down on my very soul, chilling me to the core.

Drawing a shaky breath, I asked a question that dawned on me.

“How far into the future was that vision?”

Zakarot sighed. “...Within the next moon cycle."

At this, I felt my jaw fully drop. “The next-?!”

“At most.”

Shaking my head in disbelief, I leapt from bed. The wooden floor was freezing beneath my bare feet, and pain shot through my aching body, nearly sending me sprawling to the floor.

“What are you doing?" Zakarot asked calmly.

I glared over at him, more frustrated with my own feeble body than the spirit. “I have to warn them! That man could show up any day now-!”

“Then what?” The spirit interjected. “They check you for a head injury and send you back to bed? Even if they do believe you, there’s nothing anyone here can do.”

“We can leave!”

Zakarot scoffed, shaking his head. “They’ll always find you, Zavis.”

“Why? What does this have to do with me?!” My voice had gotten loud, and I nervously glanced at the door.

“Calm down. I’ll explain everything if you’d just shut up and listen to me.”

Body trembling, breaths ragged, I stared at him for a short moment before falling back to my bed.

Zakarot slinked back to the far wall and crossed his arms. “In most cases, what’s going to happen will happen. Call it fate, destiny, providence—what have you. No matter how powerful someone is, they cannot change their future. The end of their story was written when they were first conceived. Without the ability to change their fate, they’re just a character sentenced to walk upon an assigned path.”

I swallowed.

The people of Flykra Village often prayed for the gods to change their fortunes. Still, the thought of one’s life being assigned to them was…disconcerting. If that was the case, was every choice not irrelevant? If everything will bring you to the same outcome, regardless of your own actions, what is the point of living?

It meant that agency, free will, was a lie.

Possibly sensing my trepidation, or perhaps reading my mind, Zakarot continued in a softer tone. “In most cases, this is the absolute truth. You’re different.”

“How so?”

“Everyone who is born into this world is subjected to the whims of fate, unable to deviate from the preordained course.” Zakarot said, rolling his thumbs. “However, for a reason that yet evades us, there are certain times during each era in which individuals are born under a complex series of phenomena—a perfect alignment. The odds of being born under such circumstances are infinitesimally small, and those who are always end up as catalysts for great change.”

“And you’re saying that…”

Zakarot’s hood shifted, indicating a nod.

“Just as I was born disconnected from fate, as were you. That’s another reason why I’ve chosen you. Finding an animancer is difficult, but finding an animancer who happens to be Fateless? Next to impossible.”

“But you did.”

“I did.”

“Because you knew where to look,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

Zakarot didn’t reply, instead continuing his earlier explanation. “The existence of the Fateless has been speculated throughout history, the subject of many myths and legends. Most assume that they’re just that—myths. Probably because no-one wants to admit that their choices aren’t really their own. They would rather live in ignorance than accept the truth…”

Though the spirit’s story was fascinating, and I would ordinarily be listening with rapt attention, my thoughts were elsewhere. Finding it difficult to focus on anything except what I’d seen in that future.

Black eyes.

The anger I’d felt earlier returned, Zakarot’s words fading into the background behind the flaming man’s cackles. “That curse,” I interrupted, causing Zakarot to go silent. “Anika, and that magic-user. I want to know about them.”

Zakarot hummed to himself, regarding me silently for a time. “That brings us back to my mission. My reason for coming here, and appearing before you.”

I leaned forward, waiting for him to continue.

“I’ve come to change the future.”