Fractured Infinities

Labyrinth of Questions

The problem gnaws at my mind for the next few days, but I can't come up with a solution. To be honest, I can't even formulate a proper summation of the problem - all I really have is this strange, unreasoning fear and a host of possibly-unrelated incidents. It's not enough, not nearly enough.

Ben doesn't seem too concerned, though. He spends the time enjoying the hospitality of the Sidhe, dancing with the courtiers at night and wandering the gardens during the day. Well, I say day and night - truly, the sky darkens and lightens at the whim of Lord Oberon, but the cycles are reasonable facsimiles. The fae tend to hold their most elegant parties during the dusky night, while the days are given over to more private pursuits. Sometimes, the day or night can last for far longer than a mortal would expect, but it appears as though Oberon is catering to his mortal visitors, for the cycles are relatively consistent. Certainly Ben notices nothing out of the ordinary.

The princess is having a grand old time, as well. We don't see her much, so I check in a few times a day via reflections. When she's not being pampered by the servants, she's flirting with courtiers or playing with the tame animals in the false woodlands around the castle. She's absolutely enchanted, and I suspect she'll try to stay as long as possible. Though I personally don't have a problem with it, I wonder if her continued presence Underhill is yet another thing out of place. Her story is not supposed to involve the fae, after all; is her presence here distorting the timeline of her world?

Yet another question I can't answer.

At times, it feels like I'm trapped in a hedge of thorns, walled in by the unanswerable questions all around me. Am I supposed to be doing something about all of this? Stories are subtly changing left and right; the fabric of spacetime feels ever-so-slightly stretched. I didn't notice it at first, but the space between the worlds is growing thinner, as though it's an elastic sheet being gradually pulled outwards. Yet no one else, not even the most powerful mages, says anything about it? Am I the only one who can tell that something isn't right?

No. The farseers, at least, can detect the anomalies as well. Though they haven't summoned us back, and I haven't seen them talk to the princess, I've felt the distant stare of their seeing-crystal several times in the past few days. They're planning something, I think; I just don't know what.

For lack of anything better to do, I leave a fragment of attention with the huntsman and begin to systematically check in with the other worlds I can access. I've been in contact with them the whole time, of course, but focusing the bulk of my attention on a single world is the best way to quickly gather information from it.

Most are functioning normally. Political backbiting, intrigue, and gossip abound, of course, but all within normal parameters. This prince is seeking a princess locked in a tower; that princess brought a frog home to dinner. That sort of thing. Their kingdoms, too, are operating smoothly - the farmers are harvesting or planting, the merchants are journeying, and the soldiers are drilling like always. Everyone, from the young snow girl in a frozen kingdom in the far north to the sly thief in a sunbaked southern desert, is behaving as expected.

But then there are a few worlds where things are subtly off-kilter. I deliberately avoid the darkened world where the young princess died - I have no desire to witness the bloodshed that's surely occurring there. Maybe that makes me a coward, but I prefer to call it prudence. But there are other worlds that bear the same sort of taint as that one, albeit much more faintly - worlds where the colors are ever-so-slightly dimmer and the people ever-so-slightly crueler.

One world in particular stands out. It's a harsh world - heroes abound, but the challenges they face are cruel, and many fail. I've seen more heroes fall in tragic deaths than succeed and return home in triumph; even the triumphant returns are often marred by tragedy in some way. But now, I shiver to see the way the world is growing even harsher.