Falcon's Fic: The Path Untrod (Prologue)
Fandom: The Saga of Darren Shan
Title: The Path Untrod
Author: Falcon Whitaker
Pairing: References to Vancha March/Alice Burgess in Chapter One; references to Darren Shan/Debbie Hemlock in several places.
Rating & Warnings: Rated 15+ for strong, bloody violence.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Saga of Darren Shan or any of the associated characters. I do not profit.
Feedback/Concrit Welcome?: Very much so.
Summary: As long as he does not change the course to the present, Desmond Tiny can do anything. And sometimes he can do more. Sometimes he can bend the path untrod.
Spoiler Warning! Do not read until you have finished The Saga! Major spoilers within!
~~~~~
Prologue
Time is linear, in a way: you could think of it as an enormous cosmic tree diagram based on irreversible key decisions, those moments when everything comes down to one choice. And every one of those decisions changes the direction of the line, shutting down all other choices, causing all the alternative futures to fade away so that there is only one line, one path, and all mere mortals must follow its course. None can change its course once it has been set.
Only one can bend it.
Desmond Tiny.
Desmond Tiny can do almost anything; add anything, remove anything, alter anything; as long as it would not alter the course to the present. He can create new choices and new futures that no other being could possibly imagine. And sometimes, he can do more.
Sometimes, he can bend the path untrod.
***
In a floating cosmos somewhere above space and beyond time, a black limitless void dotted with fiery lights, like stars but a thousand times larger than the largest star known to man: that is where the thick white line of time blazes its path across the empty space. Other smaller, weaker lines branch from this master line. Some are long, branching off into long lost possibilities and choices; some are short and broken; but all pulse the dull red of clotted blood. These are the paths untrod.
And this is where Mr Tiny likes to play with time.
He's here now, the small man in Wellington boots, staring down at the silver-white ribbon of time below him, and the red path following parallel to it that was his son Darren's original path through life. It is one of the longest dead possibilities, and one of the most complex, with many other broken branches forking from it into nothingness. This was the life that Darren could have had, should have had. Now, instead, he was a writer. A writer! The son of Destiny, a hack writing nonsense for children, when he could have been the Lord of the Shadows and ruled all the world!
But there is nothing that can be done now. The path has been given to another, a simple puppet dangling from the strings manipulated by his son, a blameless innocent who would go through that suffering, that pain, that same rejection of a glorious future, but who would be spared the suffering of the Lake of Souls. Where's the fun in that?
Mr Tiny follows the red line of his son's possible future along past the point where the foolish child incited Leonard to kill him and up an alternative branch, to the point where Darren could have been - should have been - his wonderful Lord of the Shadows. The dead path is still there, stretching out to the future where the Lord reigns as tyrant, aloof and alone, and dragons fly the earth.
He runs a single gloved finger along that line as though inspecting it for dust, searching for a single point, a single event.
He finds it.
Mr Tiny takes hold of the line with both hands and lifts. It comes up reluctantly, pulling against his grasp, but it is no match for him. He takes the line, bends it toward the present, and touches that one specific point of the red, dead future to the same exact point of the present...
Flash. An explosion of light, mingled red and white. The line of the lost future tears itself violently from Mr Tiny's hands and snaps back into place like elastic, but the damage has been done, and Mr Tiny smiles with malicious satisfaction. This is his revenge against those who wrong him, a small piece of cruelty to show them exactly how powerful he is, to punish them for their defiance, and - most importantly - because it's fun.
And down in the present, a shiver runs through five sleeping minds, and they begin to live a different life.
Title: The Path Untrod
Author: Falcon Whitaker
Pairing: References to Vancha March/Alice Burgess in Chapter One; references to Darren Shan/Debbie Hemlock in several places.
Rating & Warnings: Rated 15+ for strong, bloody violence.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Saga of Darren Shan or any of the associated characters. I do not profit.
Feedback/Concrit Welcome?: Very much so.
Summary: As long as he does not change the course to the present, Desmond Tiny can do anything. And sometimes he can do more. Sometimes he can bend the path untrod.
Spoiler Warning! Do not read until you have finished The Saga! Major spoilers within!
~~~~~
Prologue
Time is linear, in a way: you could think of it as an enormous cosmic tree diagram based on irreversible key decisions, those moments when everything comes down to one choice. And every one of those decisions changes the direction of the line, shutting down all other choices, causing all the alternative futures to fade away so that there is only one line, one path, and all mere mortals must follow its course. None can change its course once it has been set.
Only one can bend it.
Desmond Tiny.
Desmond Tiny can do almost anything; add anything, remove anything, alter anything; as long as it would not alter the course to the present. He can create new choices and new futures that no other being could possibly imagine. And sometimes, he can do more.
Sometimes, he can bend the path untrod.
***
In a floating cosmos somewhere above space and beyond time, a black limitless void dotted with fiery lights, like stars but a thousand times larger than the largest star known to man: that is where the thick white line of time blazes its path across the empty space. Other smaller, weaker lines branch from this master line. Some are long, branching off into long lost possibilities and choices; some are short and broken; but all pulse the dull red of clotted blood. These are the paths untrod.
And this is where Mr Tiny likes to play with time.
He's here now, the small man in Wellington boots, staring down at the silver-white ribbon of time below him, and the red path following parallel to it that was his son Darren's original path through life. It is one of the longest dead possibilities, and one of the most complex, with many other broken branches forking from it into nothingness. This was the life that Darren could have had, should have had. Now, instead, he was a writer. A writer! The son of Destiny, a hack writing nonsense for children, when he could have been the Lord of the Shadows and ruled all the world!
But there is nothing that can be done now. The path has been given to another, a simple puppet dangling from the strings manipulated by his son, a blameless innocent who would go through that suffering, that pain, that same rejection of a glorious future, but who would be spared the suffering of the Lake of Souls. Where's the fun in that?
Mr Tiny follows the red line of his son's possible future along past the point where the foolish child incited Leonard to kill him and up an alternative branch, to the point where Darren could have been - should have been - his wonderful Lord of the Shadows. The dead path is still there, stretching out to the future where the Lord reigns as tyrant, aloof and alone, and dragons fly the earth.
He runs a single gloved finger along that line as though inspecting it for dust, searching for a single point, a single event.
He finds it.
Mr Tiny takes hold of the line with both hands and lifts. It comes up reluctantly, pulling against his grasp, but it is no match for him. He takes the line, bends it toward the present, and touches that one specific point of the red, dead future to the same exact point of the present...
Flash. An explosion of light, mingled red and white. The line of the lost future tears itself violently from Mr Tiny's hands and snaps back into place like elastic, but the damage has been done, and Mr Tiny smiles with malicious satisfaction. This is his revenge against those who wrong him, a small piece of cruelty to show them exactly how powerful he is, to punish them for their defiance, and - most importantly - because it's fun.
And down in the present, a shiver runs through five sleeping minds, and they begin to live a different life.