What if I don't want to be a Seer? the girl thought.
“It can be a difficult job, and if anyone knew what all it entailed, I doubt they would ever wish for it, but this is our calling in life. It is our purpose.”
“My purpose is to let a bunch of strangers watch and know every part of my life,” the princess unconsciously touched her cheek, “and to be okay with it?”
“That's not what I'm trying to say here, Hataru. I know it's must be difficult for you to understand, but you have been given a gift, whether you wanted it or not, and it would be unwise to waste it,” she huffed. Her eyes grew a bit dewey when she added, “And if it's any consolation to you, you're the first Seer I've had contact with in years, so you don't have to worry about strangers. Though, if the others were still here, they wouldn't be strangers for long. We once had a wonderful community with members from every continent and every decade. We had a code amongst ourselves that I will teach you, but now…”
“What happened to them?”
“I wish I knew... For the longest time, I feared that I was the last... but then I met you, and I didn't know what to think... But!” she perked up, “That isn't what I came here to talk with you about. There's something that I want you to see.” Sibyl stopped walking and closed her eyes, concentrating; the image of a dark, soggy beach swirled into existence.
“Is this one of your memories?”
“No, my dear. Just watch.”
Rain drizzled down from the sky onto a small rowboat that had crashed upon the shore where a young teenage boy with shaggy black hair lay unconscious next to the wreckage, breathing slowly. A man ─ a mere shadow in the dark of the cloudy, moonless sky ─ walking along the shore approached the boy and stopped when he saw him. He knelt down and nudged the boy's arm.
“Don't touch me,” The lad's eyes snapped open, and he whipped a switchknife out of his pocket, pointing it at the man. His eyes were as dark as the night around them.
“Woah there, kid. I'm not going to hurt you.”
“No, you're not. Just try, and I'll kill you.”
The man hesitated, then grinned, “You've got spunk, kid,” he sat down in the wet sand and reclined against the broken boat, closing his eyes, “but you couldn't kill me.”
“I just killed my little brother!”
The man peaked open one eye and peered at the teen, but in the dark, all he could see was the heinous gleam in the lad's eyes. “And how old was he? Five? That's not what I would call difficult. I killed a man twice my age when I was only fifteen.”
“He was seven! I killed him in his sleep, with this knife, and then I ran away from home. It took me a whole week to plan it all out.”
“Not very flashy,” the man grumbled, “but smart. It's always easier to get 'em while they're down. I once killed this fat guy while he was bathing; no one knew he was dead till hours after! As for the knife,” he glanced at the boys hand, “you could've done better, but I guess that's all you had on hand, right?”
The boy looked at his silver switchblade, and shrugged, “I could have grabbed a knife from the kitchen, but my father gave me this one, and since my brother was the favorite, I wanted to use it.”
“I see… Symbolic. Nice touch.”
“You think so?”
“It gives deeper meaning to the whole thing. Not bad for your first murder, kid.”