The Traveler

I spin around, desperately searching the packed sea of faces for any sympathetic expressions. “That’s what she said.” I insist, disliking how my voice rose higher and higher in pitch, as if whining at a room of figurehead royals and politicians was going to win me any favors.

One, a king from one of the southern realms, drapes his arm around his young son beside him, sheltering the child from the accusations being hurled at me, speaks up above the din. “How sure are you really, though? I mean, there was a lot going on, right?” I look at him, surprised to hear him speak so informally, so I nod in reply before thinking it through as carefully as I should have.

“Yes, there was…but I remain sure!” I can hear the plaintive tone in my voice and wince. He shakes his head, looking back down at the table. He pulls his son towards him and stands, shoving his way through the crowd to the door, surrounded by attendants, then by his guards.

“I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor…but I will take no part in it.” Is the last thing he says before the ornate double doors close behind him. If the room could get any more chaotic, it did then. I let the slurs blend into a wordless cacophony of noise in my head, focusing on my memory of the event in question.

As a child, I had a penchant for…the unofficial term was ‘spirit-wandering’. I came across many different worlds, with different cultures and people and creatures. I brought back stories of those times, and back then, the adults around me thought it cute, harmless, fun.

Until I had wandered into our own past by accident, as a teen. I had met the Founding Queens, fought with and for them, spoken with them, played with them. Loved them. I brought back their words, thinking it harmless fun. I didn’t realize I had unearthed a centuries-long conspiracy to hide our past. Our mistakes. And the reckoning coming towards us in the near future for it.

We had to tell people. We had to give the people the choice of what to do next. To atone for the crimes committed by our ancestors.

It would be funny, if we weren’t facing certain doom. One auto-’correct’ed name. That was all it took to unravel society hundreds of years into the future. One order given to tell a trusted friend about an arranged visit, a guest from a foreign land, welcomed and invited. One order relayed to a hateful puritanist, nationalist, power-hungry aristocrat. And it all fell apart from there.

I wracked my brain, trying to come up with a better explanation, but I didn’t have one. That was the only way things could have played out that still made sense. But what had Maive said to me, in those last seconds? I was fairly certain she’d said ‘Warn the future, warn your world. They are coming.’ But…the words gave me pause. Why would she say both ‘warn the future’ and ‘warn your world’? If my world was her future? If we only had a few seconds left?

I felt a weight like a stone settle in my stomach. She hadn’t. She had said ‘warn the future’ and ‘then return to your world.’ The shape of her mouth, her tongue, her teeth, that made more sense. But I had been so overwhelmed, trying so desperately to commit her words to memory, that I had overwritten the second part of her plea with the first part.

What if my world was not her future? What if I had warned the wrong timeline? I knew there were divergent worlds. This was why I only told my stories as just that, stories. I had never before tried to take anything from one visit to another, in case I messed things up. Like I probably just had here. I had to go. I had to apologize, convince everyone, and run. Maybe I could slip dimensions and return at the right point in time, but I could never guarantee anything with this gift of mine.

I stood. “I’m sorry. I have to go. I think I have the wrong…” Wrong what? Did it even matter? “Be careful. I am begging you, be careful. But I think there are other people in danger, and they have to be warned.”

At least I could try to warn both of them. And hopefully whoever really was in danger, heeded the message.