A figure darted through the busy streets, coming to a rest in an alley. An interesting person indeed, not quite a goblin and not quite a gnome, perhaps the last of their kind in this world, whatever they were, they were quite obviously down on their luck to be stuck here. They had, however, settled on the name ‘Tim’, as some called them that. As they stopped to catch their breath, they shrieked as wind twirled in a vortex behind them.
“I trust, my pet, that you’ve collected information?” a muffled voice asked as its owner stepped out of the vortex, cloaked by a long robe.
“Yes, master,” Tim stammered, “the old woman and the girl entered the temple but did not exit. They must have teleported out.”
“Then my dream was true,” the voice said, “and I will not have it come to fruition.”
With that, the cloaked entity began to chant. The sky darkened, and a monstrous whoosh started to sound throughout the whole alley. Any sounds of the market quickly died down, replaced by murmurs of wonder.
“We cannot have any witnesses of what occurred here, nor chance that anyone who has seen them should live,” it explained.
“Yes, of course, master,” Tim replied, “we will depart and live on.”
“Oh, my silly little pet,” the voice said, tinged with sorrow, “for something this important, that includes you.”
“M…master?” Tim said, trembling with a simultaneous air of betrayal, of disgust, of anger.
“Dearest Tim, you’ve been so ever helpful, and if it makes you feel better, you will be getting off this rock, isn’t that what I promised you?” it replied.
Tim looked down at their hands, clenched them, and in that moment, did a very small and very brave thing that might have gone unnoticed had the cloak not covered the figure’s eyes a bit too well. Tim reached into their little pouch, and grabbed out a knife, and in one motion used their speed to stab through the cloak, and into the figure.
An unearthly shriek arose, and Tim found themself thrown down against the ground by the being’s hand.
“All I do for you, and this is how you repay me?” it roared.
“You do nothing for me. Get out of my sight. Kill me if you must, but I serve you no longer after the insult you’ve caused me,” Tim spat in response, “I don’t give a damn about your word games anymore.”
“Your wish is my command,” it said, the figure magically disappearing into the now-screeching winds. Tim huddled there for a while, clutching their chest and closing their eyes, waiting for the throbbing pain to be reduced, hearing the howls of the winds above. As they sat, they noticed a damp sensation on their shirt.
Jumping up startledly, they looked around for blood, to find none other than the little spilt earlier when they had stabbed the master. Turning around, they saw the source, a trickle of red water traveling down from another street off in the distance. They stared, puzzled, then their eyes widened.
Tsunamis were not known to occur in this land, but any strong enough wind could certainly cause one. And with the water as it was, Tim didn’t want to wait around to find out more. Already, their back began to sting around the part where the shirt had gotten damp. Frantically, they tore off their shirt, stepping away from the edge of the wall where the stream of water had been.
As soon as the shirt was off, they did the best they could with a little canteen they had to wash it off their skin further, looking up once they were satisfied they had done it successfully to see a wave of water slowly creeping down the street. Looking frantically about, they scrambled up a ladder nearby, finding themself on top of the nearest building.
Hopping from roof to roof strategically as they made it up the slight incline towards the top of the island, they soon discovered the horrible truth: even the peak of the mountain was covered in the crimson fluid, its peak being swallowed up just as they reached the last building on the road.
Powerless to do anything, they decided to bide their time playing a lute they had been practicing in their downtime while not doing their master’s bidding. All things considered, it was a good run. They had survived a few more hours toying with a supernatural being than any mortal normally did. Though they knew what the consequences of dying here would be, in the end, having been quick enough to survive until the last possible moment was not bad, all things considered.
Just as they thought all these things, and some more dreadful still, a portal appeared next to them, just as water started to lap up onto the roof. The portal was crude, barely kept open by anything at all. It had obviously been crafted by a novice, not that someone as unskilled with magic as they were in any position to judge. Supposing there was nothing to be lost, they jumped through, just as it started to spark and close, the lapping water missing their sandals by mere inches.
~~~~~
“I told you, just thinking about how we need help won’t do a damn thing!” Lachesis complained, crossing her arms for the effect.
“Now, dear, Martha is still a novice, she’ll get there when she needs to,” Atropos replied, “besides, sister, you are made of knowledge, not willpower, and yet it’s shocking how little you know about her potential or how her training is done.”
Just as Atropos finished speaking, a portal appeared. She bolted up, careful not to startle Martha, who was still in the depths of meditation, praying for a miracle. It appeared as if the miracle had arrived, a display of the pure willpower needed to conjure up a solution to the trap they were in. While foretelling the future was almost impossible when it came to dealings with deities, Atropos had explained, enough concentration could bring about the thing needed to solve an especially tricky situation, though the results were often wildly random and hard to decipher.
And a small person fell through, the very same person, dear reader, as just escaped the torrential floods in a realm just recently visited by the same heroes before you now. Tim looked around the room, dusting themself off and squinting at the old woman in the corner. Something looked rather off about her, as if they’d seen her before.
As they got up to speak, they turned around and held their breath once they saw Martha looking at them very studiously. Of course, to them, this was the woman they had stalked for half of the past day, and they were in what appeared to be her living room, or that of one of her grandmothers, so it was not entirely unjustified to feel a bit perturbed.
“Hi,” she spoke, “this might sound strange, but, has anything weird happened to you in the last few hours?”
“Oh,” they said tiredly, falling over dramatically, “you have no fucking idea.”
~~~~
It had taken a few minutes to catch the four sisters up to speed on the exact details of the situation. Of course, they had left things out here and there, noting that the three did seem to be more menacing than they first appeared. Lachesis was taking notes, Atropos and Martha looking intently, and Clotho was mostly munching on some of the biscuits Atropos had made in the meantime. Eventually, they did decide to reveal a rather important detail.
“So you stalked us for the whole time, and you’re just telling us this now, after you’ve told us everything else about what happened?” Martha asked, unamused.
“Well, to be fair,” they replied, “I did half expect you to kill me after I fell out of the portal, so you can’t entirely blame me. I’m in a world I’ve never been to before, and I don’t know how things work here. So do forgive me for not trusting four…what are you, anyways? Some sort of witches?”
“You need not concern yourself with that,” Lachesis replied, “you have given us the information we need.”
“No, I will concern myself with it,” they replied, “I don’t know who you are, but whatever you can do to me can’t be worse than what nearly just happened.”
“What is so bad about that water anyways?” Martha asked, trying to change the subject.
Lachesis sighed as she prepared a lecture. “The world which, er, Tim, escaped from is called the Ocean of Blood. The ocean covers the entire world, and so until some time ago, no other name was needed for it. Then, an impossible island rose from its depths an eon ago. People began to flock to the world, but its waters had a universal effect: for mortals, death without afterlife, for immortals, madness. Some say even breathing in the air near the sea has these effects, the vapors coming from the waters tainted with the souls of–”
Tim slurping some tea Atropos had given them interrupted Lachesis, as she glared at them and continued, “--and so oracles flocked to the site, hoping its vapors would give them insight into the afterlife.”
“So,” Martha said, “we’ve rescued someone from that fate, and your response is to discard them?”
“They spied on us, Martha,” Atropos replied, “I’m not normally one to agree with my sister, but she’s right. Them telling us was noble, but they really must leave, we can’t know if they’re being tracked.”
“No,” Martha said, her voice taking on a deeper tone, craggly and unnerving, “I will not let you take them. Not after they’ve just helped us, and when they have nowhere else to go.”
Atropos sighed and smiled, “It’s nearly time your training is complete, that’s the ‘scary witch voice’ that we’re known for, unlocked only by an authentic display of your powers.”
“That might be the best performance of the voice I’ve ever heard,” Clotho said, “for a beginner, that is.”
“We’ve still not solved the issue of Tim,” Lachesis bluntly stated.
“Well, guess they’ll just have to come along, won’t they?” Atropos said, “nothing else to be done about it.”
“If Martha won’t let them go, then I suppose that is so,” Clotho replied, “no matter how much we may have our reservations.”
You may call them... Tim.
At least Tim wasn't attacked by a killer rabbit. You don't want one of those jumping into your living room during tea.
I hear Tim can be quite enchanting, given the opportunity.