Timepyre

The river ran backwards on the day the Queen vanished.

But then, everything ran backwards on that day.

It was by design.

I was proud of my work. I knew how to craft a pyre, you see. I was less proud of my Queen’s manipulative tactics and my forced role in such a scheme. I felt guilty for participating in such a thing, but … I, unfortunately, had no other option.

Without Queen Estrelle in power, I would lose my monthly wages. And without coin, well … Mother….

“This will show them,” she had said the night prior. “This will teach the people why they need me. Do your work, Garadel. Succeed in this, and I will personally see to your family’s health. And pay any outstanding debts you may owe. You will never have to worry for their well-being again!”

The autumn rain un-splashed upon the cold, crispy ground, reforming into drops and rising to rejoin the overcast sky. The yellow, orange, and red leaves un-tangled as they abandoned the forest floor to reaffix themselves to their branches. Flowers stretched and perked up, un-wilting as if high summer had crept back into season. The steamy puffs of breath that mingled with the frosty air were stolen back and inhaled by the fox or deer who had exhaled it.

To me, it looked like the smaller animals were foraging the paw prints that had marked their passage, like squirrels gathering nuts. They skittered around in bizarre fashion, lunging and hopping in an unnatural, disjointed manner. The buck and the passing bear side-eyed each other as if a ridiculous joke had been shared between them.

The larger animals, like humans, had mostly eclipsed my work. But that was to be expected. To me, the world was behaving exactly as it should. Time can occasionally be a good listener, you see. Particularly when a Master Timekeeper knows how to incentivize his desired outcome. And properly.

At first, however, time had to be nudged and goaded. Persuaded. It ebbed now, though, smoothly and purposefully. Just as I had directed it.

Just as I had built it to be.

Time was an apt pupil. It lay backward with ease, now, like a lithe cat, flowing upstream as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It followed my precise instructions as I led it in its reversal, my gentle ministrations adding fuel to the process one twig at a time.

I crouched before the fire and placed another stick into the flames. They stretched and curled around the hissing logs at the bonfire’s base. The orange glow felt like fading sun kisses that barely touched my skin. The Timepyre, though bright as a small star, was always cold. And it was getting colder. It should have fed me with warmth, but instead, it only siphoned away my body heat. I shivered as I leaned in closer.

Only fire burned forward. For: “Fire cannot be contained,” according to the ancient words. The age-old mantra.

Fire chased the chill from the air as the chill fled back to the air it had been chased from. A storm cloud of black smoke above the bonfire was the direct result. The fire burned forward. But the smoke and the heat wanted desperately to return. To go back. To reverse.

It made for poor air quality. Even outside. In a feral forest.

Barely an hour into my work, I was already struggling to suck in a significant breath. I would have to keep the Timepyre alive for as long as I could, for as soon as it burned out, as soon as it died, that was it. Time would spray out in the right direction like water from a bursting dam. And I would be spent.

Only the fire of one’s soul was burned normally. Forwardly. Not even one’s body heat would linger. Your warmth, your energy, your limberness … the reversal saps people as they lumber forward through life while their everything quickly fades to nothing inside them.

I was not immune to any of this.

I continued forward, fueling the Timepyre at my own expense. I was my own torturer in this. And though the flames were licking up around my hands as I added more and more twigs to the heap, I felt only ice in my shaking fingers. And fear in my heart.

I was frozen to my core despite the darkening cloud of smoke that was coalescing above the growing bonfire.

After a short while, the smoky Timecloud began to suffocate me. A dark dome of harsh air and harsher energy was pressing down around me. And there was nothing I could do. Such clouds were unaffected by wafts, drafts, or even gusts. I couldn’t simply huff and puff them away, though, of course, I tried. And more than once.

Fighting for breath does not come from a place of clarity. It is a struggle that only the dead or the luckiest of men have endured. Once again, I tried to blow away the Timecloud to no avail. I choked on the foul odor, wheezing, and wincing as I stifled a bitter sneeze.

No, there was nothing I could do. Only forward-flowing time could disperse a Timecloud. And I couldn’t let that happen. I had to finish what I’d started.

This was the end.

I couldn’t breathe. But I had to. I had to withstand for as long as I possibly could. And I had to keep going. Had to keep building the fire. For the sake of my Queen.

But mainly for the sake of my family. My dying mother. And ailing sister who’d been worsening. And my niece and nephew! They needed me! I couldn’t give up. I wouldn’t. There was so much more I was meant to do.

I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. I coughed in the acrid smoke, blackening my lungs in a single breath as I took two steps and then collapsed beside the bonfire.

I felt my back spasm as a wintry gasp shocked through my ribcage and turned my bones to ice.

Then I saw you. And the tears froze on my cheeks.