A Circuit of Time: Book Two of Spark (A MPHFPC Fanfiction)

Chapter Seven

"What?" Blanche laughed. "I thought it's just going downhill nonstop recently."

"I mean, think about the apartment back in the loop, I don't remember a place that comfortable in maybe ten years. And the night view from the balcony, if some people can stay there for centuries, I think that's one of the reasons." John explained. "And this luxurious cruise ship, who would thought Miss Bittern decided to book first class tickets for us."

"She did say she chose first class because of its secrecy. I don't think she had anyone's travel experience in mind when making that decision." Blanche replied.

"Maybe, but it's a fact we got one of the most expensive cabins. Maybe we should just enjoy what this ship can offer." John said.

"Yeah, I wouldn't expect too much, though." Blanche smiled, "This is 1910s, they probably had a different definition for luxury."

They leaned on the railing. The wind blew on their faces. The sea reflected the stars above, a universe of its own trapped on the cerulean glass.

A soft sigh came from the end of the deck. They turned to look and found a lonely boy staring at the endless ripples.

"Why are you here alone? Where's your parents?" John asked.

Blanche pinched his arm and mouthed, don't be so harsh, he's like eight.

"Mom haven't finish dinner," the boy answered.

"What are you looking at?" Blanche asked gently.

"I'm looking for dad." The boy replied.

"Let us help you find him," Blanche said. "Where did you last see him?"

The boy turned back to stare at the sea.

"He left to protect the country." The boy answered miserably. "But he said he would come back after the war is over."

Blanche didn't know what to say, or how to comfort this child. How could you comfort a victim of war when he didn't even understand the concept of war itself?

Maybe someone like Miss Bittern would have the right words to help this kid, but Blanche didn't, and judging from the look on John's face, he didn't know what to do either.

"If you want to help me find my dad, you can look for grey ships. Dad was on one of them when he left." The boy told them.

"Wait," John suddenly asked, "What's your father's name?"

"David Margeson," the boy replied, "and I'm Soloman. Granma say we are both named after kings of Isreal."

"Actually, Soloman, we met your father before," John said, "He wants you to have this."

John rifled through his bag and found the letter David Margeson told him to dig up from the living island.

To my son, Soloman.

The boy took the letter from John, but before he could unfold it, a gust of wind pried his fingers open and seized the paper from his grasp. They all ran after it, but the wind carried the letter far away from the ship.

Soloman dropped to his knees and started crying. Blanche and John tried to say something, to comfort the boy, but there's nothing they could do to help him. Nothing could stop Soloman's tears.

A moment later, a young woman ran toward them and apologized to John and Blanche. Before they could reply, she pulled the kid away.

John turned to watch the letter disappearing in the horizon. "Why?" he demanded, to no one in particular.

"I should have thought of that." Blanche said miserably, "It doesn't matter how we tried to deliver that letter, Soloman Margeson will never get his father's letter in 1919. There's no changing what already happened. That's what the past is."

"It's not you fault." John said, "If he never receives it, you can't do anything to change that."

Blanche nodded, but deep inside, she wondered whether things could be different if she just tried harder to catch the letter before the current of time swept it away.

*

That night, Miss Bittern, Edmund and Ethan gathered in Olive and Emma's room.

"Nothing is dead: men feign themselves dead, and endure mock funerals and mournful obituaries, and there they stand looking out of the window, sound and well, in some new and strange disguise." The ymbryne read out, loud and clear.

Caroline's teammates sat in a circle, lamenting their fallen comrade. A drop of tear fell from an invisible face and smashed on the floor; the liquid splashed in its own little ocean.

"Caroline gave her life defending our freedom and our future. She has the spirit of a true peculiar. Her sacrifice will not be forgotten." Miss Bittern said.

Olive blinked back tears, "I found Caroline when she was ten. A lone peculiar girl hunted by angry normals and ambrosia dealers. She's a true warrior before she even became one of us. She will not want our lament, so she shall not be." Olive paused, allowing herself to feel the weight of this loss one last time, "From this day on, we will lament her no longer. From now on, we avenge her."