Dimensions Collide: Destiny Bond

“...you want me to do what?”

“Help me… save my sister!”

Prota had her fists clenched so hard her hands were shaking. She was looking down, her eyes squeezed shut, but despite all that, the strongest indicator of her desperation was the slight inwards tilt of her eyebrows. John’s eyes shot open in surprise. It was the first time he’d seen Prota’s facial expression change. Even though it was barely anything, it was more expressive than she’d ever been before.

“Please… please…” No tears fell, but it felt as if she wanted to cry.

“Your sister. Um… ok, hold on. You’re gonna need to tell me a little bit more than just “help me save my sister.” That’s just not enough information.”

Prota looked away, clearly troubled. She was extremely reluctant to say anything at all. What a predicament. In order to get what she wanted, she needed to speak up, but at the same time, her reluctance to speak was just as strong as her desire to get what she needed.

Fortunately for her, there was a convenient solution nearby.

Zero appeared, a neutral look on his face. It was as if he were a robot. “Prota. Do you want me to tell your story for you?”

“...?”

“Your story,” Zero said. “I can tell it for you. The story you would tell John. The story of your village. Your past. Do you want to tell him? Or should I?”

Prota pointed to Zero hesitantly.

“Very well.”

He turned to John. His tone was unusually serious. His speech was unusually stiff, as if he were reading a script rather than communicating as a person. He seemed like a pre-recorded hologram that was meant to deliver a message and nothing more.

“John. I am going to tell you Prota’s story. This is a story she would have told you eventually, but I’ve gone and taken the liberty of telling it for her. This is very important, so listen carefully.”

Zero stared into John’s eyes.

“This story is exactly as Prota would have told it. This is not the [Plot]. This is Prota’s story and nothing else. I am just a mouthpiece. Keep that in mind.”

John nodded. “So you’re telling me-”

“I’m not telling you anything. The rest is up to you.”

~~~

“Fire! Fire!”

The villagers ran out of their homes, still sleepy but now waking up as a blazing bonfire burned near the outskirts of the village, near the entrance to the forest, the smoke rising up into the clear starry sky. The scene starkly contrasted with the calm wind and pleasant smell of grass emanating from the night spring air. The trees nearby waved in the wind, their budding branches unconcerned with the affair of humans.

“What’s going on?”

“Did monsters attack again?”

“Aren’t there guards at the entrance? Why aren’t they doing their job?”

“The adventurer’s guild had some assigned since the area is highly populated with dangerous mana beasts…”

A few water mages began carrying water from the wells to put out the flames, but by the time they got there, what hadn’t already been knocked down by the explosion had been razed to the ground, leaving nothing but black ash and soot. The fire still blazed on, but soon enough, it would die out on its own with nothing left to burn.

“This… this is the Char household!” someone exclaimed, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Has anyone seen them?””

“Tch… why this house?”

“Has anyone seen them?”

A few brave mages ran into the flames, untouched by the heat as they looked for anyone they could rescue. One threw up as he saw the charred remains of the adults, or rather what was left of their bodies scattered by the explosion, but the other two pressed onwards.

“There! Over there!” they waved the others over as the fire was put out, slowly but surely.

A small child, maybe only five years old, was sitting on the floor terrified, her blue eyes and snow-white hair glowing brighter than the burning flames around her. Somehow, the flames were not touching her.

“Quick! Is she ok? Someone call a healer!”

There was further pandemonium as some of the villagers noticed the walls had been damaged in the explosion and quickly ran over to fend off the monsters that the noise and light had drawn. In the confusion that followed, no one noticed that all the guards the adventurer’s guild had sent were dead, with no apparent cause of death written on their bodies. They would’ve been highly suspicious if someone had found them, but the guards were left unfound.

At the same time, a villager walked carefully over the ashes to pick the small girl up, the fire now put out. The dust beneath her feet scattered as she got closer, and she spoke softly.

“Hey, it’s fine now, everything’s ok. We’re going to help you, o-”

A bright flash blinded everyone nearby as soon as her hand made contact with her skin. As the people blinked to regain their vision, there was a collective gasp as the woman who had made her way over was dead on the ground.

“Wha- what the hell?!”

The villagers began to mutter. Something strange was happening. No one wanted to approach anymore.

“...did she do that?”

“What just happened?”

The night was quiet now as the villagers formed a crowd around the now burnt down home, the small girl sitting in the middle of the ashes that once used to be a building.

“Did she just kill her?”

“She’s just a kid…”

“That doesn’t change anything!”

“Someone get the tools! Quick!”

“Maybe it was something else?”

“Like what, genius?”

The hum of the crowd died down, with the only sound left being the soft sobs of the child. No one dared to move. No one wanted to get any closer. A small shuffling sound drew the attention of everyone nearby as the village elder drew closer. The ring surrounding the child opened up to accept their leader, who sighed and leaned on his cane.

“Prota, child,” he said gently, but his eyes were shiting and alert. He stood at least six feet from the child, leaning on his cane but muscles tense, waiting for something to happen. “What happened?”

“Mommy… Daddy… demon…” was all she could manage between sobs.

Demon. The mere word evoked yet another round of chatter, which was instantly silenced by the chief, who pounded his cane into the ground.

“Silence! Everyone, peace, please! I will deal with this.”

The crowd slowly dispersed but talked among themselves as they left, but their words were not unheard by the girl at the center of this tragedy.

“Demon?”

“Did she just say demon? Not demonic?”

“I read that long ago, there was a demonic rune some used to take other’s mana…”

“Demonic?”

“Didn’t she say something about a demon?

“Did she kill her mother and father?”

“Demonic?”

“Demon.”

“Demon.”

“Demon.”

The voices left, but that word had been imprinted onto Prota’s soul. Was she a demon? Had she killed her parents? She didn’t know. The villagers began to leave one by one, no longer interested in a potential monster. Soon, it was just her and the chief. Despite his kind face, there was a sharp look in his eyes.

“...I need to ask you. Are you a demon?” he asked quietly. The child didn’t look at him.

“I don’t know what to take that as.” He looked very old, then. His voice was frail as he continued. “I… no, we can’t keep you here anymore. It’s too dangerous. For both the village and you. We will keep this incident a secret. I will help you go to the nearest large city. There, maybe, you can survive… I truly do wish you the best of luck, Prota Char.”

Prota watched as her parents’ remains were taken and the chief was now walking away. Her family was gone. Her village was gone. What about-

“Anta…” she whispered. What had happened to her twin sister? Where was she? Her sister’s corpse had never been found. It was missing.

Missing?

Her eyes flashed up as movement drew her attention. In the forest's shadows, a figure stood, holding a girl that looked much like Prota. It smiled, beckoning Prota with a draw of the fingers, then melted into the shadows. What was that? Was that the demon? What if that was what the demon had been after? Her sister? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that her family was gone. Her village was gone.

As the moon began to rise, Prota thought back. They’d been celebrating her birthday. There had been a cake, and candles. Was that it? Had the candles set the house on fire?

That was it. That had to have been it.

~~~

The past year had been rough for Prota. The chief had snuck her onto a carriage headed for Vulcan, the capital city of Solaris, the land of the sun. A city full of people, full of noise and stores and stalls.

And Prota was completely lost.

The vast city was something completely different from the small village Prota had grown up in. Magical technology, businesses, rows and rows of stores, streets full of stalls, people milling about and going through the streets, greeting strangers they might never meet again.

She had no idea what to do. As a child, she didn’t even have a clue as to what survival meant, but eventually, she found that she was hungry. Even someone as young as her would realize that she needed to eat, so she went to a stall to ask for food. Thankfully, the owner was kind and found Prota cute, so food was handed out quite easily.

For a month, this was how she went about. Finding places to sleep out in the open, asking around for food, wandering aimlessly. She was just a nameless child in a vast world.

That life was completely shattered after her first month. A few of the villagers had come to Vulcan and recognized her. At this point, her snow white hair was streaked with dirt and grease, her face rough and black with who knew what, but she’d been recognized. Prota wasn’t actually sure if they’d been villagers, but something had changed after she’d met those familiar people because the once friendly people turned hostile. No more food. No more wandering about.

For a few days, Prota went hungry, unsure of what was going on. Her childlike mind couldn’t comprehend what was going on. Eventually, though, desperate times forced people into action, and Prota began digging through dumpsters and garbage piles. Despite spending all of her time searching, there was relatively little that was safe enough to eat, and her body started thinning out.

The nightmare wasn’t over, though.

~~~

“Hey, is that right, a kid like that on the streets…?” an adventurer whispered to his companion. “I thought there were orphanages in this city.”

By this point, Prota had learned that if she begged on the streets, occasionally, people would toss her a coin or a piece of bread. She stared pleadingly at the two strangers. Her white hair was black with dirt and soot, and her small arms and legs were similarly covered with the same kind of mess. Perhaps it was for that reason that people had begun avoiding her more and more. That was a belief that was soon dispelled.

“Didn’t you hear?” his companion whispered. “She’s a demon child.”

Demon child. A demon was the most feared of all the monsters that roamed in this world. It would go on a rampage with god-like abilities, slaughtering everyone, razing towns to ashes, and causing as much chaos as possible. Only the rise of a hero, blessed by the goddess, could stop it. The world hadn’t seen a demon for a long, long time…

“...demon?” the boy whispered with fear.

“Yes,” his companion said. “Most people avoid her. Some give her a bit of bread out of pity, but…”

Prota hung her head, tucking it between her legs and she rocked back and forth. Demon. That word, that label, it continued to plague her. Why was this happening? She wasn’t a demon. It’d been a demon that’d taken everything from her. Why did everyone think she was a monster?

“Hey,” the boy said quietly, pulling a piece of bread out. Prota’s head snapped up at his voice. “Here you-”

The boy wasn’t able to finish his sentence. Something happened. Prota didn’t know what, but he recoiled in fear, dropping the food he’d been about to offer.

“What? Are you ok?” his companion said, running over. Sweat poured down his face as he recovered from the sudden shock. “Did she do something to you?” she persisted.

“No… no, I don’t think so. I don’t know what happened, I-

His companion ignored him. “You! Don’t touch him!” she yelled, whipping her blade out and pointing it at the child threateningly.

Prota’s eyes shot wide open in shock but nodded submissively and shrunk back into the alleyway she had learned to call home. Sitting in the dark, away from the eyes of the public. Curling up in a corner, she hugged her legs and cried. She didn’t know what to do. A feeling of helplessness washed over her, rendering her mind blank. What had she done to deserve this? Why was she being treated like this? If only whatever had happened that night hadn’t happened. If only she’d been somewhere else. If only… if only…

Her mind started to go wild at the possibilities of “what could have been.” The load of it was so heavy, too much for a mere child. Prota had once been a joyful child. That joy was gone now. Her mind began to collapse under the weight of her thoughts, and, in a sort of self defense, it shut itself down. She had learned to stop herself from feeling.

Her tear-stained face rose from her knees, revealing a blank look. There was nothing on her face. No pain. No fear. No depression.

Nothing.

~~~

Months passed. After that first day, her emotions returned, but they got more and more distant. Each and every time, she would learn to block her emotions off more and more, slowly forgetting what joy felt like. Her memories of the village, the few she hadn’t blocked off, were like a distant dream. A distant memory, always out of reach. And the abuse didn’t stop. If anything, it got worse.

Adventurers, usually drunk, would spot her and approach her. Sometimes, they’d just hit her. Other times, they’d chase her down, and she’d be forced to weave through the alleys to get away. There was nothing she could do to stop it.

They saw her as the “demon child,” a monster, not a human, so it wasn’t as if she could ask someone for help. The beatings kept coming. The attacks persisted. And Prota was getting hit in some way or another nearly every day. Eventually, she just stopped feeling the pain. Bruises began to mark her skin to the point where she could no longer tell what was dirt and what was a bruise, but that didn’t matter because she had forgotten what feeling clean was like.

She was wearing rags. In her little alleyway were scraps of cloth she used to keep herself warm, but everything she had was used and ripped. Nothing fit properly. It didn’t really matter, though. All that mattered was that she wasn’t dying of cold.

Prota thought she’d hit rock bottom. Someone would come and save her. Someone. Anyone.

She was wrong, though. It could still get worse. And instead of someone coming to save her, it would be the opposite. The others would need saving from her.

It had begun like any other beating. A drunk adventurer approached her, but this one was different. There was no weapon in his hand. He didn’t look particularly strong or anything. He just seemed incredibly intoxicated.

“You! Demon child! For the sake of Celeste, I will slay you!” the man roared drunkenly, charging in with nothing but his fists. Panicked, she jumped out of the way. Her passive face must’ve made the man think she was mocking him, because his rage only increased.

“Come back here! You’re only delaying the inevitable!”

Prota ran. She ran and ran and ran, but her malnutrition and the constant beatings were catching up. She couldn’t escape the way she used to. She quickly ran out of breath and stumbled, falling to the ground.

“Monster! You’ll die, here and now!”

Squinting her eyes, Prota lunged forward in a desperate attempt to dodge the knife and slammed into the man instead. There was a bright flash, blinding Prota. Her heart rose. Had someone come to help her?

As the light faded, Prota stared and found… no one. The man was on the ground, lying very still. Trembling, she inched closer and closer only to realize something. The man was dead. There were no signs of wounds or anything like that. In horror, Prota stumbled backwards, panting heavily. Her eyes bulging, she poked the man, but he wouldn’t wake up.

“I… I…” tears began forming in her eyes, and she blinked in surprise. She’d almost forgotten what tears were. However, she was smart enough to understand that a dead man next to her wasn’t a good thing. Regaining her breath, she ran away from what had just happened.

That wasn’t the only incident. Every single time she was cornered, she’d make a desperate attempt to escape, and somehow, her pursuer would end up dead. The same thing happened every time. She’d make contact, there’d be a bright light, and she’d recover her vision only to find them dead on the ground. She didn’t know what was happening. She wasn’t trying to do it.

It was just something that had happened.

From that point on, Prota wouldn’t touch anyone. Even those who got remotely close with no intentions were warded off, not for fear of being beaten, but out of fear that she would kill them as she had done to the others. She was no longer being cast away. She was the one isolating herself.

With that, Prota had fully enclosed herself into a shell of her own. A shell to block everyone else out. A blank face hid what she felt. A numb body blocked out the pain. A frail and thin body hid well in the shadows, barely going out, hoping to be unseen. The only indication people knew her by was that she had white hair.

Time flew by. Summer, fall, winter, then spring.

Exactly one year since the incident.

Exactly one year since her birthday.

The spring wasn’t starting off well; two drunken men were approaching her threateningly. She wasn’t sure how they’d found her, but she was tired. It was raining. It was cold. She didn’t want to run. All she could do was cower and tremble at their feet.

It was then that a third voice rang out. A voice very different from that of the drunken nobles in front of her.

“Oi! What’s going on?”

She turned away, afraid to see what would come next, but nothing happened to her. There were the sounds of arguing, followed by the wet slap of flesh meeting flesh in the rain, a few grunts, and then the sound of pebbles grinding against the road, as if something were being dragged. She slowly opened her eyes to see a figure standing at the front of the alleyway, hands raised above his head.

As her eyes adjusted to the light level, she saw the man’s features. His body was entirely average, slim and built like a runner. A hood covered his head, a red scarf covering his mouth and nose, but his raven black hair jutted out messily, lightly covering his eyes. His shirt was like a short black cloak, and he wore a red shirt underneath, with loose black pants and red shoes, unlike anything she’d ever seen.

“Hey, hey, I’m harmless. I… uh… I’m not gonna hurt you, ok?”

As the man continued to mumble to himself, Prota immediately let her guard down. Someone with the intention to hurt her wouldn’t have come in like this.

“Are you ok?” he asked, pulling down his scarf to reveal his face. “Do you have someone to take care of you?”

Prota’s mind flashed back to the village, but that thought vanished quickly enough as if the rain had washed it out of her mind. There was an awkward silence before the man slung a sack off his back, pulled out a large white cloak and tossed it to the girl.

“Bit chilly with the rain, isn’t it? Wrap yourself with that. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s apparently imbued with magic, so it should keep you warm. Not sure why I bought this, actually. Well, it’s coming in handy now, isn’t it?”

Prota hesitantly put the cloak on, and while it was a bit big for her, the man was right. A warmth she hadn’t felt in months began to envelop her, sending some of the chills away.

“Uh… do you have a name? Something like that? Anything I can call you?”

There was a brief pause. Prota didn’t know why, but she was drawn toward this man. Something about him was familiar. Something about him seemed like home. She didn’t know what it was. But she was somehow drawn to him in a way she couldn’t explain.

After an awkward silence of John standing in the rain, she opened her mouth.

“I… I’m Prota.”

The man cocked his head to the side before letting out a laugh. Prota wasn’t sure what was so funny, but he seemed rather amused. She found him strange. He was unlike anyone she’d ever met. She didn’t know what it was, but there was something different about him.

The man muttered something to himself that she couldn’t hear, but then he knelt down and smiled warmly.

“Nice to meet you, Prota. You can call me John.”