The Butterfly Effect

{-Ouka-}

She’d like to say she remembered something more substantial; a laugh, a smile. But there was nothing, aside from a couple of blurry memories and two figures she just assumed had been her parents. She couldn’t be too sure, because soon enough all of her memories of them faded—nearly to the point of wondering if they’d ever really existed in the first place.

She always assumed that it was real, though, because she didn’t quite understand why she’d make something like this up.

“You said we were going out to town,” Ouka pointed out, confused. “This isn’t town…”

Her mother completely ignored her. “You’re going to be staying here for a while. See, Lord Hiero will be taking care of you.”

Her father nodded. “You’re going to be what we call a vassal. As long as you listen to what he has to tell you, then you’re going to do just fine.”

Ouka looked between both of them, but she found no answers in their expressions. “You’re going to come back, right?”

The door of the estate swung open, revealing a grin she thought menacing even then.

“Hello, there!” The man swept down and was already trying to usher her inside. She was able to spare one last glance at her parents before he said, “I’m Lord Hiero. I assure you, I have quite a few plans for someone like you… You needn’t worry about a thing, if you just do everything I say.”

Then the door closed. Ouka couldn’t remember if her parents were smiling or frowning—if, once they no longer saw her, they laughed or cried.

She was just sure that they never looked back.

…

She was not the first of Hiero’s “vassals,” nor was she the last. She didn’t know who truly held both of those titles and, frankly, she didn’t think she wanted to. Something told her that both were long gone, whether damned in hell or having lost all sense of morality.

Which she always thought was kind of funny, coming from her—the one who’d be more than willing to kill a man if it meant a week’s worth of food.

Then again, perhaps she could claim that it was something Hiero taught her.

“I’d like you to deliver this to a friend of mine,” he said. He didn’t kneel to be at eye level; no, he towered over her, and seemed to enjoy every moment of it. He handed her a little envelope, one she was certain she didn’t want to open. “But that’s all you should do. Get it where it needs to be and come right back, do you understand me? I believe you know what will happen if you go too slow.”

Ouka nodded, but didn’t dare to say a word. She didn’t think she could—all possible protests or arguments, the same ones she’d spent the rest of the day forming, were gone at the sight of him. Hiero was not a man of empty threats.

If anything, he was more likely to see one through even if the job was completed.

“It’s a simple trip,” he continued as he started to walk away. “I expect you back by tonight. Don’t keep me waiting.”

…

Ouka knew these letters weren’t simple greetings or well wishes; she understood exactly what kinds of things—evidence—she was told to get rid of; she acknowledged what she was doing with every drop of poison she administered in Hiero’s orders. And he must’ve known that she knew, too, because he made it clearer and clearer what would happen if she shared that information.

All she had to go off of—and all that she dared to learn—was that it was somehow worse than what happened when she made a mistake. It felt like a death wish even to risk an incomplete or failed mission. She couldn’t, and didn’t want to, imagine what could’ve been worse than that.

But at least there was something good that came out of it… if “good” was really the way to describe it, with how it all ended.

Because, the fact of the matter was, there were other kids like her—other “vassals” of Hiero. And one of them was a boy around her age named Aravind.

He had missions like her; delivering “letters,” setting up “snacks,” or preparing “gifts” for Hiero. She never asked him if it bothered him like it bothered her; she didn’t want to know the answer. It didn’t seem right to ever bring it up, either. Spending time together meant acting like they were only kids, and to say anything to the contrary would be to break some unspoken rule between the two of them.

Everything has to change eventually, though, and that’s what happened.

“What’s that face for?” Aravind snuck up behind her, looking over her shoulder to see the letter she was holding. There was an obvious shift in his tone when he remarked, “You know, leaving now’s gonna be a lot better than waiting. Hiero won’t be happy to know you’re still just sitting here.”

“I don’t want to do this,” was Ouka’s mumbled response.

“You know you can’t tell Hiero that,” he pointed out. “So, really, I don’t think that’s much of an excuse. Just go on and get it over with…”

“I’m hurting someone with this. Doesn’t that bother you? That everything he’s making us do—it’s just his way of doing whatever the hell he wants. We’re just doing his dirty work.”

“Of course it bothers me. This isn’t what the Ravens are supposed to be. But the thought of what happens to them doesn’t bother me as much as the thought of what will happen to you.”

Ouka considered whether she wanted to bring it up, then slowly asked, “You really don’t think the Ravens have anything to do with this?”

“They definitely don’t,” he said confidently. “All of this is just because of Hiero—Boss would never agree to something like this. I’m sure he wouldn’t.”

“It’s been over thirteen years at this point—probably longer, because we definitely aren’t the first. If no one’s said anything now, is anyone really going to?”

Aravind didn’t say anything; he just shook his head and walked away.

…

“I’m telling Boss about all of this,” she said confidently. To the kids she was talking to, it was a promise; to Hiero, who she knew had to be listening somewhere, it was a threat. And she was okay with that. He’d made enough threats to all of them; it was about time he learned what it felt like to be threatened.

The others didn’t seem to believe her. “Like someone that important is going to give a second thought to kids like us…”

Aravind was listening, though, and his frown deepened when he heard her. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea…”

“You were the one who told me about it!” Ouka pointed out. “You said that he wouldn’t like what’s going on, and you’re the one who mentioned that he was coming here. This is our chance to end this, or at least find somewhere better. Don’t you want that?”

“I want you to stay safe.”

“And you don’t think trying to stop this will do that? I thought you were the one that wanted to prove that the Ravens aren’t all as bad as Hiero. This is my chance to do that. Then we’ll learn exactly who’s right.”

“This is a stupid idea.”

“But it’s the only one I’ve got.”

…

She should’ve known that bravery—no, naïveté—was punished the moment Hiero heard about it. And she should’ve known the kind of fate she’d have by trying to threaten him.

After all, she’d been the one to punish some of Hiero’s enemies. She knew that, once she was a threat to him, he was going to treat her the same way. Yet still she struggled, continuing to throw around false claims as if that was going to be able to save her.

Even fading in and out of consciousness—the consequences of a child of Fleyw Bresh being forced to cut ties with their magic—she was sure that the only reason they were going out this far was because it made her death less suspicious. After all, who’d notice if an orphan had died by the border? It wasn’t like anyone who knew her, if they weren’t part of the Ravens, would be by the border to say it.

“A stab wound would look too obvious.” Amidst one of her moments of half-awareness, she heard it—what sounded like Aravind’s voice. She didn’t think he’d come along on this trip. Or maybe he’d been tricked like she had to come along, as someone who was close to her, to share a similar fate.

“That’s what magic’s for,” one of the older kids, who’d been the leader of the trip, remarked. “Unless you’re telling me you’ve gone soft for this kid? Because I’d think you’d know better than that.”

“Of course I don’t like her! I just—we’re here for another mission. We don’t want to jeopardize that one by having a dead person showing up and ruining our plans. What if we just leave her? Then it’ll just look like she ran away, overestimated how prepared she was, and ended up dead before she could get to the next town. And don’t worry about if she’ll survive it. Even if she did, I don’t think she’s dumb enough to try to come back…”