Faces of Time

The stories are not supposed to be true. And though the other gods enjoy that our existence is a secret, I intend it not to remain so.

In a mortal's time, it took nine decades before they started hearing my whispers. Another nine until they sought me. And then another nine for me to build a place where they can.

In the heart of the forest where I waited, the wind was so unfamiliar with the mortals’ scent. The scent of dirt, death, and desperation.

It took centuries for those first mortals to find me, but I was not impatient. I knew that already. Nor was I surprised when they came asking for something that's mine, so I prepared exactly that. It did not take long until a deal was struck and then I sent them on their way.

Nine days later, one of them returns.

The mortal emerges from the trees and falls on the damp riverbank.

A second visit. One I do not welcome as much as I did the first. I consider striking him down, but the intrigue is quite delicious. Why is he here?

And, perhaps a more interesting question, why is he alone?

I hear his heart pound loudly in his chest, wild and empty. Then he begins to claw at the earth, crying and laughing.

Now I’m thoroughly intrigued.

Through the howling winds, I ask him what he’s celebrating. My suddenly palpable presence surprises him, but he rises to his feet and wipe his tears. “I thought I would never find my way back here.”

“And why are you back?” My question shakes the branches above him. “Were you not victorious in your war?”

His lips tremble, and he grimaces, staring at nothing. “We won,” he says quietly. “We did exactly as we saw in the visions, but…”

The river sputters at him, warning him, daring him to continue. But?

“But we cannot keep the-the gifts.”

I sigh, and the chilling air surrounds him. “You danced on the ashes of your vanquished enemies. Your people will survive for a few more centuries. Is that not worth your gifts?”

They begged me for them—him and that female mortal he was with. When they left, they took away my sight of what was and what will be. They used it to find themselves peace, and now that they have it, he comes back to rob me mine?

That’s not how I laid it out to be.

The mortal fights to hold back his tears. “We cannot stop…seeing things.”

Ah, finally. Something of interest. Something I do not know yet. “What is it like for mortals to see through time?” I ask him eagerly, approaching him like a famished to a blessed.

The mortal shakes as a fresh wave of tears takes over. He looks as though he’s about to fall. “I-I see everything,” he weeps. “I see everything that could possibly happen. It’s everywhere I look. And Glennie…” He sobs at the mention of the name. “She’s never awake. She’s dreaming of the past all the time. We-we made a mistake.”

A wolf growls in the shadows of the forest. “Is that mistake mine to fix?”

“Please…” He lifts his hands up, as high as he could carry them. “Release Glennie. Just Glennie. Give her sight to me.”

He bawls and begs, pleads and screams, while I try to understand his grief, which is impossible. Is he aware of how ridiculous his request is? Thousands of years of a million memories. That’s what he will carry. And all that on top of thousands of years of a million possibilities.

I could answer. Tell him I lied when I said that the gods cannot undo wishes.

But I choose not to. He knows he has lost this venture anyway. He knows exactly what I gained from the bargain, and I will not give it back.

His body succumbs, collapsing to the ground. The darkness of dusk creeps in and I think it would embrace him into the night. But, satisfyingly, I’m wrong. It wakes him up.

He stands, his head hanging limply from his shoulders, and then fishes something out of his pocket.

I watch him as he meticulously washes a shard of glass in the river. My curiosity scratches on my mind. Where did it come from, the glass? What will he do with it? Will he want another gift from me? Because I have so many to bargain.

So many unanswered questions fill my space, making me delirious, elated, and complete. Feelings I earned and unearthed when I gave up the sight to the past and the future.

The mortal was a regal warrior when I met him days ago, and I get a glimpse of that warrior again when he straightens up, raises the glass in the air, and drives it into his eye.

“Why did you do that?” My voice barely makes it above his loud cries. He does not hear me, does not answer. It takes him a few moments to recover and do the same to his other eye.

“Why did you do that?”

As he walks away, I submit to the fact that I will never know the answer. And the ignorance feels very pleasant. Maybe as pleasant as the mortal feels, who begins his difficult trek back home with a calm, serene expression on his face. Peace? I don’t know.

The shard is back in his pocket, staining his clothes red, then black. I do not have to see the future to know that the shard has one more task.

I forget about him. I have things to celebrate. For instance, this is the longest I have not been consumed by jealousy of the mortals and the voids in their minds.

I made this forest to punish them for their endless seeking and searching but instead, it became my salvation—the birth of my very own void, promising me my own vessel to fill.

And every day, for the nine months after his last visit, I provide for that void. I play, desire, covet, and discover. Oh, the things I discover.

At one point, I even wonder if I should go to him, that warrior. Learn his name. Stop his plans. But there is too many to see.

On the tenth month, I again begin to feel restless. I made my last two discoveries: that the warrior succeeded in relieving themselves of the burden of the past; and that it will be centuries again before someone finds me.

And until them, I will have to be alright with knowing everything.