The Butterfly Effect

She poured herself into her research, reliving the days that had preceded Astyu’s birth; there were long hours spent buried under books in her study, then a few sleepless nights either piecing it together or fearing what it might lead to. The only difference between those days and now was that she had Astyu—and she certainly wasn’t going to abandon him now. She made sure to spend time with him, at least a few hours every day; enough for him to know that she still cared and that she wasn’t going to leave him alone. At least, she was going to do everything in her power to try to prevent it.

Every time they were together, she reminded him not to bother her while she researched, and that he mustn’t try to learn what she was doing on his own. She stressed, though kept it vague, the kinds of things it would lead to if he tried to follow her down this path. She knew that it scared him, but a part of her thought that might’ve been a good thing—if he was scared, then he’d stay with the things he was familiar with.

As curious as he might be, his fear about uncertainty or unfamiliar situations always kept him from doing more. Usually, she’d be pushing him to brave the fears and do it anyway but, right now… she was glad he never seemed to completely listen to those lectures.

It meant she didn’t have to worry about him.

Then, one day, right before she was about to try it—knowing she’d soon run out of time if she didn’t—she realized Jasmin and Kiara were at the door. Eme opened it for them, but didn’t immediately let them in.

“What brings you two here today?” she asked. “I thought I’d told you I’d be busy. Or did something serious come up..?”

“We know what you’re doing,” Jasmin replied. “We can’t, in good conscience, let you keep doing this to yourself. You need to step away from this.”

Kiara nodded, though she was quieter when she added, “You’re too close to the problem. You’re only going to get yourself hurt if you don’t step back now.”

“So neither of you will admit it, even after all of this? We’ve already decided there was no going back,” Eme pointed out. “And if there’s no going back, then there’s no reason why I shouldn’t just keep testing the limit. The line’s already been crossed, and I can’t return—might as well see what’s in all of that unmarked territory.”

“You’re just going to leave him alone, then?”

“He’d be alone no matter what—from the very beginning of this, that much was probably certain. The least I can do is do whatever I can to ensure that someone will be there for him. I know that, as long as he has a steady hand to guide him, he’ll be alright without me.”

Jasmin hesitated for a moment, though her tone was entirely confident when she said, “If you were hoping we’d help you in this, then you’re wrong. You will fail on your own.”

“I’d fail even if the entirety of Yllvamel contributed their magic to help make it happen. This distribution of magic? It doesn’t solve anything. It just delays the inevitable, leads people into a false sense of security until they build up enough reasons for the gods to smite them. I don’t care if you help or not, I’m going to do what I can. And you’re not going to stop me.” Eme stepped back and made a clear motion of getting ready to shut the door. “Now, if that’s all, I’ve got important things to take care of.”

It was obvious that Jasmin had intended on arguing more—even trying to keep the door from closing—but it was already too late. She had to have known that because, as soon as Eme shut the door, she didn’t hear anything else from either of them.

Still, Eme let out a shaky sigh to acknowledge that it was over. This was the finale, though it wasn’t the grand one that Brynn always talked about… It was certainly going to end up a tragedy.

But trying was the only thing she could do at this point. So, Eme went up to the room where the four of them used to practice magic, and laid out everything she’d need for one final show…

…

“This is the third this month,” she remarked with a frown. She pulled the handkerchief back, to see if her Life magic was helping him at all. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Leander shrugged, though she could tell he wasn’t nearly as confident as he made himself sound. “I’m certain. Trust me, I’m not dumb enough to try if I didn’t know that for sure.”

She should’ve stopped him then and there, but she didn’t. She believed what he was telling her, was confident enough in his words not to second guess them.

Maybe that was the first mistake she made that led to his death. Or, perhaps by that point, he’d been as long gone as she was now, with no amount of words able to reverse it…

.

“The brave knight traveled all across the land, finding the pieces that would help him on his journey…”

Eme told the story from Astyu’s bedside as he drifted to sleep. She could tell that he was tired, but that he still wanted to hear the end of the story. Perhaps he even thought of reading alongside her… were it not for the fact that she wasn’t reading from any book.

There were some stories that should never be committed to paper, and Leander’s was one of them, however much she hated to admit it. His was a story that tended towards the darker side of things, and she didn’t want anyone else to make the same mistakes he did by trying to follow him… because even if they thought they were better—wiser—every mortal would make the same shortcomings on their path of defying the very gods themselves.

“Then, finally, he found a home—a place to rest from all the years of his travels. He settled down and founded a family, one that neither mortals nor gods could break apart. And finally, they were all able to live happily ever after…”

Except, reality was hardly as much of a fairytale as those stories, and there were rarely any happy endings…

.

“I believe it might be best to prepare for some possible setbacks,” Jasmin remarked before taking a sip of her tea. It was one of the first meetings they had since Eme joined them, while Jasmin was still trying to reassure her that everything was going to turn out fine.

Oddly enough, they talked more about failed plans when they seemingly had nothing to fear than they did when the threat was right in front of them.

After no other comments, Jasmin continued, “There’s a chance that the magic might not be evenly distributed between us. Now, we’ve done everything in our power to ensure that, if it does happen, it’s nothing drastic. But there’s always an element of uncertainty with these kinds of things, and that’s something we’ve got to approach carefully. And these are the kinds of things we should do if something like that were to happen…

…

Eme had failed, and now she was reaping the consequences of having her body ravaged by the influence of the wild magic she tried to tame.

She knew what she must’ve looked like—she felt the blood drip from her, saw the new stains on her clothes from it—but she also knew she couldn’t stay here. So she said goodbye to Astyu, wishing that his last time seeing her wouldn’t have been like thia, and hoping that he would fear the path she’d gone down… then she staggered into the forest, to where Jasmin and Kiara were staying.

After all, at this point, she could feel it surging through her—a volatile host of uncontrollable magic, ready to burst at any moment.

Jasmin needed to kill her, before that magic overtook her completely and she couldn’t stop herself from letting it kill even more. But even if Jasmin couldn’t do anything, the further Eme was from Yllvamel, the better; at least, according to the research Jasmin had done prior, which she’d trained them all on beforehand.

Eme barely had the strength to walk all the way there and, luckily, she didn’t have to. Jasmin rushed out to talk to her, though every word spoken between them—if any words were spoken at all—were left unregistered.

And before she could do anyone any harm, Eme was killed, swallowed up by the same magic that had resulted in the death of Leander and so, so many others…

Why did mortals always think they could break the rules of the very gods themselves?