The Vivent
“When I touch people, sometimes I get visions,” I admit quietly, my fingers twisting nervously. “They can be of the past or the future. Sometimes… sometimes it’s what they’re imagining in that moment.” My words falter, but I force myself to continue, “I saw a woman in a bed. She was pregnant and ill.”
I wait, expecting anger or a lecture about boundaries–about how it’s wrong to access someone’s thoughts or memories without consent. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, amplifying my anxiety.
Instead, his response surprises me. “How many times has it happened with me?” he asks, his voice calm but
curious.
“Twice,” I admit, though the truth quickly corrects me. “No… three times. It hasn’t happened in years. It stopped when I was sold. But yesterday, it came back.”
“What did you see the other times?” he asks, his tone still even.
“That was the first time,” I begin hesitantly, “The second time, I saw you kissing me and… I felt it.” My cheeks burn at the memory, and I shake my head. “The third time, I saw us in bed together. It wasn’t something you were thinking it felt like the future.” My voice grows quieter as I speak, the weight of my admissions bearing down
on me.
The room falls into silence once more, the faint crackle of the hearth the only sound. My nervousness deepens, my body tense and trembling. Then his hand cups my face, gently lifting it so I meet his gaze.
“That’s truly amazing,” he says, his voice filled with genuine wonder. “Actually, it’s fascinating.”
I blink, startled by his reaction. There’s no anger in his eyes, only curiosity and admiration.
“Can I say something about it, though?” he asks, and I nod hesitantly, unsure of what to expect.
“The visions of the future,” he begins, his tone growing serious, “if you see something bad, don’t try to change it. Fate is delicate, and gifts like yours carry risks. Changing one event could have unforeseen consequences–ones that ripple far beyond what you can see.”
I blink at him, incredulous. “How could me stopping one bad thing spiral into something so big?” I ask, a nervous laugh escaping me.
He smiles faintly, though his expression remains solemn. “Because every action has a consequence,
little one. Cause and effect. The smallest change can alter the balance of fate. It may not seem like much in the moment, but it can set off a chain of events that impact everything–the entire universe.”
His words weigh heavily on me. I’ve never thought of it that way. The visions have always been something I tried to ignore, a burden I didn’t want. But now, the idea that even one small action could ripple outward, affecting so much more than I can comprehend–it’s daunting.
“I understand,” I whisper finally, nodding. “I’ll be careful.
And for the first time, I truly mean it.
Explaining
The Curre
