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SIX - ZERO
Fiona had been an only child for six years. Had been, past tense, because her mother currently held her little sister in her arms. She was supposed to find her cute, with the wrinkled little pink face and beady black eyes.
She adjusts her glasses, as she looks down at her, squinting. Frankly, she looked like a little changeling child, but Fiona's mother had assured her that those didn't exist.
Her father had assured her that changelings didn't look like that. They looked nicer, because the fair folk would glamour them up prettier than a normal human baby, so mortals were more likely to raise them as their own.
For that, their mother had smacked him on the arm.
"Fiona, would you like to hold Elin?"
She didn't really. But, she reaches out anyways, to hold her little sister. Her mother gingerly places her into her arms, mumbling about supporting her head and making sure to hold her properly.
The baby is lighter than she expected, and warm, swaddled in linen. And she thinks, as she holds her close, that she might be able to find it in her heart to love her after all.
---
ELEVEN - FIVE
Fiona would always say that she was too old for fairy tales, but she never objected to sitting bedside as Elin clutched at her nightgown, rapt as their father wove stories of tricksters and the other side.
“He couldn’t be killed during the day or night, nor indoors or outdoors, neither riding nor walking, not clothed and not naked, or by any weapon lawfully made. Lleu was invincible- to all but the honeyed words of Blodeuwedd.”
“So, talking to a girl killed him?” Elin’s eyes widened, and Fiona suppressed a laugh.
“Well, that’s halfway to the truth. But not quite.” Their father humours Elin, amusement glinting in his eyes. His voice drops, as if he was about to reveal a great secret. “And so Blodeuwedd kept on asking him, just exactly how he could die-”
There’s a sharp rap at the door, and their mother stands in the doorway.
“Oh, Alwyn, let them sleep. It’s far past their bedtime.”
“But mam , he was just getting to the good part- just a few more minutes, please!” Elin entreats, doe eyes and all.
“No buts, dearest. Now off to bed- I’m sure your sister is tired of fairy tales, too.” Her mother sends her a pointed glance.
“Well, I’m still a little curious. It wouldn’t hurt to stay up a touch longer-” Fiona admits to herself, maybe she still wasn’t too old for fairytales. Her mother sighs.
“See! Fio wants to know too- come on, tad , please-” Elin interrupts, turning her willful gaze onto their father.
“Well, I suppose-” He glances back at their mother, which makes him pause. “That you kids should listen to your mam. Bedtime is bedtime.”
He stands, scooping Elin into his arms.
“Now, it’s time for you to head off to your own adventures in dreamland.”
—
FIFTEEN - NINE
“Fio, Fio, look!”
“Not now, Eli. We have to go home before it gets dark, otherwise mam will be cross again.” Fiona tugs him along, but Eli stubbornly plants his feet in the ground.
She lets out an exasperated sigh, twisting around to face him. It seemed to be his hobby lately, to stare out into the shadows, and exclaim that he saw a pixie, a kelpie, or something ridiculous like that- once, even, he’d claimed to have seen their dead grandfather. At first, she’d fallen for his little pranks- but, now, she barely bothered to look. Such was the irritating nature of little brothers.
“Don’t you remember the last time we were late getting home? Mam nearly burst with worry- I don’t want her having snotty Cousin Anna chaperone us again.”
Eli’s face twists with confusion as he meets her frustrated expression.
“Can’t you even hear the singing?”
She strains her ears, but hears nothing but the rustling of leaves.
“Who’d be singing at this hour? There’s no service happening this late- and we’d barely be able to hear it.”
Eli’s expression drops further, but still, he insistently points at some random point on the horizon.
“Even if you can’t hear it, just look! Please. They’re almost gone! It’s so pretty, you’ll be sad you missed it.”
“If I look, will you walk?”
He nods fervently, and after rolling her eyes, she finally looks up at what he had been pointing at.
A trail of gossamer, of lights that seem to set with the sun over the thin horizon. A flutter of impossibly fine fabrics. The shine of insect wings, and floating thistle seeds. And before she could truly take in what she was seeing, she blinked, and it- no, they, were gone.
---
SEVENTEEN - ELEVEN
“Be careful, Fio- the kettle!”
At that, she turns, her elbow knocking into the kettle on the stove- and the water spills out, the flame sputtering. In their household, this was now a common occurrence.
At first, they were small misfortunes. Pricking a finger during embroidery. Tipping over a cup. Three days of rain and no shine. But then, things started to change. A sudden death of an aunt. A crop that resulted in ruins.
Eli was a speaker of curses. These words would come to him out of thin air, but it seemed like he knew with certainty that these things would happen. And without fail, they did, every time he spoke.
He half rises out of his seat at the kitchen table, arithmetic homework about to be abandoned, his expression apologetic- but she just waves him back down.
“Just finish your schoolwork. I’ll clean up.” Fiona turns off the gas range with a click, taking a tea towel in hand and righting the kettle. She stares at the water on the stove, as it drips off the sides. “You know, it’s better if you don’t say things like that. Mam doesn’t like it, and you know it.”
For a moment, all she can hear is the scribble of a pencil against paper. And she hopes that Eli was taking her advice to heart. But there’s a click, as a pencil gets set down, a creak of a chair as he faces her back.
“But tad says that it’s a gift- that I should warn people if I can.”
Fiona’s grip tightens on the handle of the kettle, and presses her lips together in a thin line.
“That I have a. Uhm. A reprehensibility.”
And he didn’t even know what it meant, to have responsibility. Her mother was right. Fiona was fond of her father’s whimsy- but recently, he’d been filling Eli’s head with nothing but fluff. Ever since Eli’s trances had started, he’d encouraged him to take advantage of his so-called blessing. And that fondness was slowly turning to frustration, wearing on her nerves.
She steels herself, relaxes her grip on the kettle.
“Responsibility. Not a reprehensibility. Eli, you don’t have responsibilities to foretell doom- your responsibility as a eleven year old is to finish your homework. You can’t even say it properly.”
“But, if I know something horrible is going to happen-”
“You don’t know that. You just think you know.”
“I do- I do know! Fio, I’d never lie to you, or mam, or anyone, I promise!”
“You. Don’t. Know. In fact, this might all be because you open your-” She lets go of the kettle, and it clatters against the stove as she whips around, the frustration leaking into her voice. Eli shrinks back into his seat, brows knitting. Her voice catches in her throat, because suddenly, he looks so small. She shakes her head and clears her throat.
“You’re only a child, Eli. You should stop taking tad so seriously. Sometimes, he’s just as much of a child as you are.” Fiona walks over to the table, kneeling next to him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. “ Tad shouldn’t be making you say these sort of things.”
“ Tad’s not making me say it- I want to help people, too. I can’t just- know all of this bad stuff that’s going to happen and not say it.” Eli doesn’t look at her, staring down at his homework. His mouth is drawn into a trembling frown. “I see it all happening, and I can’t do anything but say something about it.”
And for a moment, Fiona wants to believe him. To believe that he could really see all these misfortunes- because the misery in his eyes seemed far too real to be the misery of a eleven year old who still enjoyed scraping his knees playing tag and chasing waves along the shore. It makes her chest tighten, and she gently squeezes his shoulder.
“You’re very kind, Eli. I’ve always known you were, ever since you were little. But, you have to know something. Come. Look at me, now.”
He reluctantly brings his eyes up to meet hers.
“You can’t take care of others, if you can’t even take care of yourself. Learn to do that first, before you try to save everyone else, okay?” She offers her pinky. “Promise me that.”
After a pause, he hooks her pinky into hers.
---
EIGHTEEN - TWELVE
“You can open your eyes underwater, I know you can.”
The gentle waves of the ocean rocked them both in its embrace. They floated together, two sleek otters in the balmy summer night.
“Avery said that her cousin got blinded after he opened his eyes in the ocean, because his eyeballs dried up and floated away.”
“Silly. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear. You’re a little too-” Fiona stops herself. A little too much like their tad . Her father, who was always a bit too gullible. Who always had too much faith in others. Who was unlike her mother, who had little faith in others, and was losing patience in her father.
Eli had long stopped foretelling misfortune. But, things kept going downhill. Her father lost his job- her mother’s inheritance was drying up. Every time these things happened, he had a guilty look in his eyes. Like it was his fault. His obsession was guilt. Her mother’s was gospel. And her father- the fantastical. The fae.
But, she doesn’t want to think about it- it’s the reason they came out to swim, to not think about the things that their parents were doing.
“What are you thinking about?” Eli asks, and Fiona snaps out of her thoughts. He’d always been a little bit too perceptive.
“Thinking about how gullible you are.” At this, Eli frowns.
“I’m not gullible.”
“But, look up- it’s been written in the stars.”
At this, he looks up. And she seizes her opportunity to flick him upside the chin, with a triumphant laugh.
“Got you!”
At this, he squints at her, eyes narrowing. And then comes the splash of water. And another. And another. A full blown water fight ensues, only to be stopped when Fiona tackles him.
“Now. Are you ready to try opening your eyes underwater? I promise your eyes won’t shrivel up and float away.”
Eli swallows nervously, but grips her hands, and nods. She smiles.
“On the count of three, alright?”
She pauses.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
Both of them take a deep breath, and Fiona pulls both of them underwater. Eli’s eyes are still squeezed tightly shut. She gives him a reassuring squeeze of his hands. Slowly, his eyes flutter open. He blinks once. Twice.
Joyful bubbles emerge from his mouth as he grins, and she can’t help but smile back. They burst up from the water, out of breath and panting, but nonetheless, happy.
But suddenly, as they gaze at each other, some far away mistiness takes over Eli’s eyes. They look so distant, his eyes might as well have been swept away by the sea.
Suddenly, he comes back. And draws her so close, that she’s afraid that she would forget how to breathe, with how tight he was squeezing her.
They wade back to shore, silently. The sand clings to her feet as they walk. It suddenly felt chilly.
“What did you…” She hesitates. Did she really want to know? But her mouth seems to finish the sentence for her, before she could even really think about it. “What did you see?”
“Water.” Eli responds.
“Water? What do you mean?” Fiona asks, bewildered.
He pauses. Stops walking, his back turned. Before he swivels on his heel with a grin.
“There’s nothing else to see under the sea, is there?”
She snorts.
“No, you know what I mean.”
“I do, and I just told you what I saw! Water. That’s it.” Eli shrugs. “Nothing more.”
There was a trait they shared, Fiona and Eli. And she knew that they had both gotten it from their mother. They were both stubborn. And with that answer, she knew that she’d never get the truth out of him.
And she never did. Not until years later, before he was already gone.
—
TWENTY
A letter, left on her windowsill, resting among thistle seeds. A dried fern frond the size of her little finger was put delicately in the envelope.
Dear Fio,
I still have those visions. I’m sorry I lied, so long ago. I never really stopped having them, I just stopped talking about them. But, don’t worry about me. Tad found a way to help me- so I left with him. I’m going to finally be able to actually help people- not just curse them.
I don’t want to bring you or mam any more misfortune, until I can actually help people. Please take care of mam. I love you. I’ll see you again some day, where the ferns bloom.
Your brother,
Eli
His room was almost completely untouched. His things were completely intact- and so were her father’s. Like they had been spirited away to some other world. She sat on the bed, staring blankly at the wall.
Her mother had no more tears left to cry, and the house was silent.
He really was gone.
—
TWENTY ONE
The hymns felt hollow.
Once, she had found solace within them. But now, they felt desperate- useless. Grasping at hope that was no longer there.
They had moved away from that house, where everything had happened. Fiona made ends meet with odd jobs she found. Her mother was growing older. The grief from losing the house, her son, her husband- it seemed to be warping her mind.
The days they were at church slowly ticked up. At first, they would attend only on Sundays. Then, Saturdays and Sundays. Then, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. And so on, and so forth. Her voice rasped from reading proverbs, and Fiona soon grew tired of the stale air in the chapel.
But her mother found comfort there, and who was she to tear her away from it?
Still. There was nothing for her here, in this church- even as her mother continued to insist, that if she tried harder, if she had more faith- maybe, she could hear His voice.
—
TWENTY TWO
Fiona heard a voice. But, it wasn’t the one she was supposed to hear.
She could see the water, too.
(Was it the water that had called to Eli so long ago?)
It beckoned to her, the sea. But not the ocean of the shore she had grown up alongside. Like the moon swayed the tides, she felt herself drawn to a mysterious… something. A voice whispered in her mind, like the thrumming of blood in her ears when she submerged herself in the ocean.
She had to follow it. Her mother resisted- called her all sorts of things.
That she was just like her father. Just like her little brother.
“If you go, you’ll be alone in the world. I’ll make sure to forget your face.”
Fiona didn’t say anything. She had already made up her mind. Her mother’s voice trembled in the wind. The sky was overcast, threatening rain. Everything ached- to rip herself from the only thing that was familiar left in her world; but, she had to find out who was calling her.
She turned and left, leaving not a trace of herself behind.
—
TWENTY SEVEN
Fiona had followed her path to the very end. From a muddy lake, the scent of which seemed to attach itself to her, to a decrepit manor. The voice of the sea was silent- no matter how hard she strained her ears. Maybe her purpose was to be forgotten.
She sat waiting for the start of her “game”. A mysterious writer scribbled next to her, fountain pen scratching against paper. A polished military woman adjusted her lapels, hand resting on the holster at her hip.
The storm raged on outside, flashes of lightning illuminating the hall. Oddly enough, even as the raindrops beat against the window, there was no sound of rain or thunder. They all waited in complete silence.
There was to be a fourth participant. But, no one came.
The game started.
---
TWENTY SEVEN - TWENTY ONE
“Fiona. You have to find a way out as soon as possible.”
The voice of a man. A gloved hand on her shoulder. Its warmth feels familiar, and it sets off an ache in her heart. She was tired of belief. Of needing to have faith, but just this once- for the last time, she hopes. She believes. She turns.
There he was- older, changed- but she’d know the face anywhere.
Eli.
She should have hated him. She should have told him, right then and there, the things she had suffered on account of him and her damned father. That she wanted to save him. That she was sorry, that she couldn’t do anything more for him.
But all she could do was pull him into her arms. And thank the gods, the stars above, that she could see her little brother again. She had found her peace.
She squeezes her eyes shut, takes a deep breath. The thrum of her heart resounds in her ears, like the rush of water-.
Like the rush of water. Like the voice that had guided her here so long ago.
“ Run. ”
The voice of her brother, and the voice of the sea blended together.
Too late.
---
CASE FILE CONCLUSION.
Following the introduction of No. 6-1-6, No. 6-1-3 was almost able to avoid being "sacrificed" by No. 6-0-5 due to her extraordinary intuition. A moment's hesitation, however, caused No. 6-1-3 to miss a crucial piece of "divine insight," and lose her chance to escape.