A Thousand Lives I've Seen

1 - Again We Fall

It happened like clockwork.

Quahaug had always known the power of time. It slipped between his fingertips in ways others could never even begin to comprehend. The sands of the universe seemed to bend to his wishes and his wishes alone, and he allowed them to do so. He hadn't ever quite understood his power or why he had been granted such a thing, but he dared to not ask questions. He could use it to his advantage, to change the world.

And that was exactly what he did.

Quahaug had lived through the war of Norzelia fifty different times, but it always ended the same way. It didn't matter how the war concluded in the eyes of the rest of the world; it was the same for him, and that future would fade away like dust on the wind the instant he stepped away from it. First, the war had ended in an era of blood and tears when those fated to change the world ran from it instead, and Centralia became the last living torch of love in a world that had forgotten what camaraderie meant. After that, it had been the unification of Norzelia under the rule of Hyzante with every person losing their freedom and their autonomy in the name of what was cited as a greater peace but could hardly be considered anything but murder. Then, Glenbrook had stood at Aesfrost's side to defeat their common foe, becoming a great nation in the process only to stab their former ally in the back. It didn't matter which outcome the world saw. It all ended the same way.

The first time it had happened, Quahaug had been confused. It had been two years to the day since the end of the war--if it could even be called the end of the conflict--and he went to sleep like it was any other night. When he awoke, the sands of time had decided to flow in reverse. Quahaug opened his eyes on the first day after Glenbrook's fall, the first day of Aesfrost's rule over the majority of the continent of Norzelia. He had stared at his hand, wondering if he had dreamed it all. When he went into the village and asked what the townsfolk had heard, he received his answer. It had been real, but it had been erased all the same.

It took time as all things did, but Quahaug eventually came to understand the cycle. Two years to the day after the war ended each time, he would awaken on the first day of Aesfrosti rule over Glenbrook. He would open his eyes to the chirping of birds on Glenbrook's darkest day and hear the people around him whisper of Frani Glenbrook's death and King Regna's coming execution. They would wonder how their ruler could have possibly assassinated Dragan Aesfrost, but they lacked the information and power needed to push back against Gustadolph. And so, they remained silent.

Quahaug had seen the end of the war more times than he could count on his hands and feet. It always ended the same way no matter how the war was stated to have concluded. Centralia, Hyzante, Aesfrost, it was all the same. Two years later, he would awaken with that future erased and replaced with a chance to try again. And he had tried. When he came to grips with what happened each time, he set out for the Wolffort demesne, joining their forces as seemingly their youngest soldier and doing what he could to change the future. There was only so much he could accomplish as a child who appeared too late to reverse the inciting incident of the war though.

Quahaug had been able to control the hands of time ever since he was a child. It was the reason the world feared and despised him. The people meant to take care of him looked at him with disdain and terror, knowing he could hurt them but not seeing that he didn't want to. All things considered, it wasn't surprising that the world was offering him of all people a second chance through the power of the clock. His magic was something he hardly understood, and in some ways, it seemed to use him more than he used it. After all, what other explanation was there for the world reversing itself again and again for him to try and save the world once more?

By this point, the cycle was familiar to him, something he could count on in every way he wished he didn't have to. Each time the clock turned itself back, Quahaug's body began to age. He was much older than he appeared, and the villagers in his cozy town in Wolffort all knew it. He was meant to be fourteen, but he only looked to be about ten years old at a first glance. That was one of many side effects of his magic, and it was yet another reason for people to fear him.