Do you believe in fate? That the world bends itself, inch by inch, to shove you toward one inevitable moment? I always knew mine would come. This fight, this loss. It was never a question of if, only when. But I never imagined the cost. My story began long before anyone thinks. Started with pain, on what should have been a day of joy. A birthday. A celebration. The day everything I knew was shattered.
Back in my hometown, my mother, father, and I were walking home from the festival. Friends had gathered, laughter filled the air, and it was all for my fifth birthday. We took the same dirt path we always used to return from the town square. I don't remember its name anymore. Maybe it doesn't even exist now. But I remember the warmth of that night.
My parents were admired by everyone. My mother, a prodigy of the magical arts, her talent for water magic rivalled mages twice her age. My father, a swordsman who carved his name into the adventurers' guild, took jobs others feared to touch.
"You know, I was about your age when I first discovered my affinity for water magic," my mother said, smiling down at me.
I always wanted to be like her. A mage, powerful and graceful. But my parents loved to tease, loved to compete for my admiration.
"That's only if Matt doesn't take after me," my father cut in, puffing out his chest. "He might just be a natural with the sword, just like his old man!"
My mother smirked, feigning offence. "You have to choose, Matt. Be my brilliant apprentice… or a lame swordsman like your numbskull of a father." Her tone was playful, joyous.
At that age, I didn't know what to say. I wanted to make them both happy, so I said nothing. Just kept walking.
Then, it came. A sound that froze the blood in my veins. A howl. Deep, guttural, unnatural. I had never heard anything like it.
I looked up at my parents. Their faces had gone pale, terror etched across their features. That look burned itself into me.
"We need to run. Now!" my father barked.
We bolted back toward town, but I was small, too small. I couldn't keep pace with them. My legs stumbled, desperate to match their stride.
That's when it happened. A rock. Barely visible in the dim light. My foot caught it before I even realised. I fell hard, pain flaring as my knee and palms scraped raw against the dirt.
I turned slowly, fear locking my body in place. At first, the world was nothing but a blur. Then, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw them, a pack of horned wolves, charging with heads low and horns gleaming. My heart pounded. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable. Seconds crawled by.
Instead of tearing jaws and piercing horns, I heard my mother's voice. "I will not let my child die!"
I opened my eyes to see my parents holding their ground. My mother unleashed waves of water magic, forcing the wolves back, while my father struck them down with his sword. For a moment, I thought they might actually win.
But then, one wolf lunged from the side. Its jagged horn pierced both of them at once, tearing through vital organs in a single brutal motion. I froze, horrified, as they collapsed in the dirt, blood spilling across the earth. I wanted to scream, but nothing came out.
At the last moment, a figure appeared. A girl no older than fifteen, cloaked in black. She raised her palm, light flaring from her fingertips. The wolves recoiled and vanished into the shadows. But it was already too late.
My parents lay broken on the ground, blood soaking the soil, breaths shallow. The girl crouched beside me and pulled back her hood, silver hair shimmering in the moonlight.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
I couldn't answer. I just stared at my hands, slick with my parents' blood.
With her final breath, my mother turned to the girl. "Look after him, please. He still needs to, "
Darkness swallowed me before I could hear the rest. That's all I remember. Except for the dream.
The dream is always the same. A flawless replay of the festival, of my birthday celebrations, looping endlessly. I try to warn them, try to stop them from taking that road home. But they never listen. No matter how many times I try, it always ends the same, on that dirt path, with their blood on my hands.
Seven years have passed. I'm twelve now. The festival only comes once every five years, but I don't want to go back. I don't need the reminder. Yet the dream finds me anyway. Every time I wake, I'm in tears. The joy I once had is gone.
I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, forcing the memories down.
"What should I work on today? Maybe a trap for horned wolves." Even saying the name stings.
Knock-knock.
"Hey, Matt, get your butt downstairs, or I'm gonna eat the very special breakfast I so graciously made for you!"
That voice belongs to Ella, the girl who saved me that night. She's been my guardian ever since. Now twenty-two, she masks her strength behind a carefree, sarcastic exterior, but she's tougher than most adults I've met.
I sigh. "Fine."
I don't like getting close to people. I can't risk losing anyone again. Especially not her.
I sit up and take in the chaos of my room, piles of failed inventions clutter every corner. I've made a habit of tinkering since I rarely go outside. Technology is the only subject we have books on, aside from the odd storybook. I'd like to learn something else, but the effort of venturing into town never feels worth it.
Dragging myself out of bed, I brace for another day cooped up in the cabin. Still, I can't complain. Our home sits on the town's edge, practically an introvert's paradise. Supplies are handled by others, so I never have to leave.
I shuffle through the corridor and down the stairs into the kitchen.
"Finally! Took you long enough. Your breakfast was starting to go cold. Go on, try it, tell me what you think," Ella says, eager for my reaction.
On my plate: bacon, eggs, and toast. Ordinary, but harder to come by lately with prices rising. I take a bite. It's delicious, but I don't let it show.
"It's good," I say flatly.
Ella frowns. "Look, Matt, why are you always like this? You've been like this for a long time, and it worries me."
I know she means well, but I can't let anyone else carry my burdens. Especially not her, not after everything she's done for me.
"It's nothing," I reply, tone clipped.
Her expression softens, but she presses on. "It's because of your parents, isn't it? Matt, that was seven years ago. You need to let go. It wasn't your fault. You were just a child."
Anger flares before I can stop it. "Yes, it was! If I hadn't tripped on that stone, they'd still be here! I'm the one to blame for it all!"
Ella stares at me quietly, then asks, "You had the nightmare again, didn't you?"
I don't want to admit it, but the truth slips out anyway. "Yes," I whisper, voice trembling.
Her concern softens into compassion. She crosses the room and pulls me into a hug. "It's okay to remember them," she murmurs. "Just remember the good things too."
And somehow… it helps. Just enough to get me through the day.
"Oh, and I don't have any plans until around five," Ella adds. "So keep yourself busy doing… whatever it is you do until then, okay?"
I nod absently. Five p.m. is a while away. Maybe I'll make another device.
The basement is where I do all my tinkering. It isn't large, but it has enough space for what I need. I approach the worktable, brushing aside scattered tools and scraps, and dive into brainstorming. A mind like mine has to stay busy.
I sketch draft after draft, each with different functions and purposes, yet none spark the thrill I'm chasing. Then, finally, I land on something, a design that sends a jolt of excitement through me. I don't know what it will do or how it will work. I only know it will do something.
"Well," I mutter, "guess I'd better take this outside. Just in case it blows up… again."
Hauling my newest creation through the cellar door is exhausting; it's the only exit wide enough to fit it. After a struggle, I finally drag it into the sunlight. The sight makes me pause. It's magnificent: a mid-sized hollow wooden frame reinforced with metal plating, built around a small pedestal designed to hold a magic circle. Now all I need is Ella to activate it.
I search the cabin, but every room is empty, lit only by sunlight streaming through the curtains. At last, I find her outside, tending to the garden. She spends hours out there; it must be her favourite pastime.
"Miss Ella, can you install another magic circle on my new machine?" I call.
She sighs. "Alright, but this better not end in disaster. I'm tired of patching up craters. And drop the 'Miss', you've lived with me for seven years."
We circle back to the contraption. Ella barely reacts; it resembles many of my past designs. She rests her hand on the pedestal and begins to chant.
"Ent, a, tra, tull."
Light blossoms beneath her palm, spreading outward until it fills the pedestal. The glow forms a ring inscribed with intricate patterns only mages can decipher. My chest tightens with awe as the metal plating hums and begins to glow. That's new. That's amazing.
But it isn't over.
The machine shudders, rises a few inches into the air, then unleashes a piercing, high-pitched screech.
I slap my hands over my ears and crouch, desperate for it to stop. Through the agony, I glimpse Ella raising her hand to cast another spell. But the noise only intensifies, strangling her magic before it can form. I've never seen anything like it.
Ella scans the room, panic flashing in her eyes. If this continues, it could seriously harm our bodies and drain our abilities. Her gaze fixes on one of my wrenches. Struggling to keep her balance, she staggers toward it, finally seizing it in her grip. With a sharp strike, she smashes the pedestal. The magic circle shatters, the machine powers down, and the screeching halts.
The noise has drained me completely, as though it siphoned every drop of energy from my body. Ella looks just as exhausted. We stumble inside and collapse onto the couches.
"For the love of God," Ella groans, "please don't build things like that just because you're bored. At least make sure you know what they do next time."
I respond carelessly, but I acknowledge her effort to protect me. Exhaustion consumes me. I need to sleep, but I don't want to. Sleep means dreaming.
Don't fall asleep.
But my body doesn't listen. My eyelids grow heavy, and soon I drift away, dreading what's to come.
I wake inside the dream. It begins the same as always, yet something feels… wrong. The air is heavier, different somehow. The festival bustles as usual, the people, the music, the laughter, but beneath it all lingers a presence. Something is following me. The unease gnaws at me.
I go through the motions: playing games, watching performers, just as I always do. Then, from the corner of my eye, I glimpse a tall, hooded figure. Every time I turn to see it clearly, it vanishes. I keep walking, pretending to ignore it, though my curiosity won't let me forget.
And then I'm back on the dirt road, where they died. My body trembles uncontrollably, as it always does. This is where the dream should end. Blood seeps from the cracks in the ground, drips from the sky, staining everything. My parents' voices usually echo here: "It's your fault. You weren't good enough."
But not this time.
The horror is still there, yet their voices are gone. Instead, we keep walking, further than I've ever gone in this dream. And then, the hooded figure appears directly ahead.
I try to glimpse its face, but beneath the hood is only a void.
My father speaks first. "Who are you? What do you want with us?"
The figure replies, voice calm yet unwavering. "I do not want you two. I am here for the child."
My mother immediately steps forward. "Take us. Just leave Matt alone!"
"I do not wish to take the child. I only wish to warn him."
Confusion swirls inside me.
"Fine," my father says. "Then don't move. What do you need to say so desperately?"
In the blink of an eye, my parents dissolve into black mist, leaving only the hooded figure. It steps closer.
"A great danger is coming," it says. "And you will be the factor that tips the scales of fate in either direction."
My heart pounds.
What danger? Why me? Of all people, why me? Fear claws at me, yet part of me dismisses it. It's only a dream… right?
"What danger? What's going to happen?" I ask, my voice steadier than I expect.
"I will tell you the next time we meet," the figure replies before dissolving like smoke on the wind.
I wake on the couch, breath uneven. A blanket covers me; Ella must have placed it there while I slept. The dream… I remember it. But why was it different this time? Who was the man in the cloak? I have no answers, and for now, I don't want to think about it.
Pushing myself up, I glance outside. The sun dips low on the horizon. Time to head into town. How I despise these parts of the day.
"Matt, are ya awake? It's nearly time to go!" Ella calls from the other room.
"I'm awake," I mumble, just loud enough for her to hear. I throw on casual clothes and, as a final touch, drape her old black cloak across my shoulders. Then I step outside, where she's waiting.
To my surprise, she's arranged a carriage for the evening. Great. More attention. I climb in reluctantly, and Ella takes the reins, steering us toward town. The path is all too familiar, the same dirt road, the same looming trees, the same suffocating weight in my chest. I hate every second of it.
The ride is short, ten minutes at most, but it feels like an eternity. At last, Eldridge Falls spreads before us, rustic and nestled between thick forests and rolling hills. The kind of town where everyone knows everyone, which makes it impossible for me to disappear into the crowd.
Our first stop is the town square. At its centre stands a circular park with a statue of the town's founder, ringed by market stalls selling food, crafts, and trinkets. The carriage halts in front of a jeweller's shop.
Ella steps inside first, and I follow, still unsure why we're here. Behind the counter, the jeweller, Julius, greets us with a warm smile.
"Ah, Ella. How are you today? I assume you're here to pick up the special order you requested?"
"I'm fine, Julius. And that's a lucky guess," Ella replies, approaching the counter. Julius places a small box on top. It isn't cheap, though not overly extravagant either. Still, unease coils in my chest. Ella picks up the box and turns to me, crouching slightly to meet my eyes.
"Here you go, Matt. It's not much, but it's something."
She opens the box, revealing a silver-and-black pendant with a blue gemstone set in the centre. I don't recognise the stone, but it looks expensive, far too expensive for me.
Before I can react, Ella lifts the pendant and slips it around my neck. I stare at it, unsure what to feel. Is she really willing to spend this much on me? I keep my face blank, offering no reaction.
"Hey, kid, you should show some appreciation. That charm cost a lot of money," Julius remarks.
Before I can respond, Ella waves him off. "It's fine, Julius. Matt's usually this blank. He didn't have a very… happy past."
Something stirs inside me. She's done so much, even when I've given nothing in return.
"Thanks, I guess," I mutter.
Both of them look at me in surprise. It's only then that I realise, I've never thanked her before. Not once.
After leaving Julius's shop, I assume we're heading home. But instead of leading me back to the carriage, Ella turns toward the park. And today, of all days, it has to be crowded.
I pull up my hood, avoiding eye contact. I hate crowds, too many eyes, too much attention. Ella doesn't seem bothered. She finds a quiet spot, spreads out a cloth, and sets down a basket. We sit.
By now, the sun hangs low, bathing the town in golden light. Some might call it the perfect moment for a picnic. They'd say I was lucky. But they don't know me. They don't know what I've lost.
Ella unpacks the food: sandwiches, fruit, and a mix of sweet and savoury snacks. I eat slowly, and to my surprise…It's good. She tries to start a few conversations, but I don't have much to say. I never do.
Time passes. The food is gone. Finally, Ella decides it's time to head back. Relief washes over me.
As we leave town and return to the forest path, a heaviness settles in my chest. Something feels wrong. I don't trust anyone, not even my own instincts, but this unease won't fade. The road is too quiet.
Then it happens.
A faint tremor. A sudden, violent shake. The horses panic, rearing wildly, and the carriage lurches off course. In seconds, we slam into the trees at the forest's edge.
Pain rips through me. My vision blurs. The world tilts, spins, then fades to black.
I hope I'm still alive. I hope she's still alive.