The Elemental

by Sara Galadari

  “H-Helia,” she replied, sniffing as she wiped her cheeks and nose with the back of her hand. Her finger caught the hem of her hood, and it slid down her hair and around her shoulders, revealing her blood-splattered face.

  Miela inhaled sharply.

  “You’re hurt.” Her voice rose in alarm. She quickly turned the cloak over and examined the child’s body, searching for signs of injury.

  “Miela, I don’t think that’s her own blood,” Noiro interrupted, gesturing at the splatters against her face. “And it’s still wet. I think someone else—”

  “Mama,” Helia whined, beginning to cry once more as she saw the adults in front of her panic.

  “Helia, honey, I need you to tell me,” Miela said, grasping both of Helia’s arms tightly. “Is your Mama hurt? Where is she?”

  Helia began to cry harder, jerking her arms away and pulling her hands up to her face, smearing the blood even more across her skin.

  Miela cursed, her panic growing along with the child’s wails.

  “Hey, she’s obviously scared,” said Noiro, nudging his way past Miela and moving closer to the toddler.

  “Noiro, someone’s hurt! And with that amount on the child, the victim looks like they were hurt badly. We need to help—we need to find—”

  “You’re not going to get any answers by scaring her further,” Noiro said firmly. “She’s a child, not one of the criminals you normally deal with.” He knelt down to the toddler.

  “Okay, Helia,” he said, grunting when he felt one of his knees creak as it rested against the marble floor. “We’re going to help you find your Mama, but we need your help. Can you be brave and help us find your Mama?”

  Helia’s sobs quieted at his gentle tone. She nodded.

  “I’m brave,” she said quietly.

  “Yes, you are,” Noiro praised. “Now, Helia is a wonderful name, but I bet that’s only what your Mama calls you. What do other people call you?”

  “Helia,” the toddler repeated, confused.

  “It’s a beautiful name.” Noiro smiled. “My full name is Noiro Pollux. Do you know your full name?”

  “Helia,” she reiterated uncertainly. Noiro nodded. It was obvious she was overwhelmed.

  “Okay, Helia,” said Noiro. “Do you know your Mama’s name?”

  Helia nodded. “Mama.”

  Noiro and Miela sighed.

  “I know it must be very scary,” said Miela, trying to sound calm in front of the child. “I need you to think hard, okay? Where were you and your Mama before you got here?” asked Miela.

  Helia gestured at her spot on the floor behind Noiro. “Right there.”

  “And what were you doing before you got here?”

  “We runned. We runned all the way here.”

  “Running? Running from who?” Miela asked.

  “From the bad men,” Helia said slowly, her shoulders dropping as she recalled the sharp blades hurtling towards her mother. Tears began to leak out of the corners of her eyes. She whispered, “Mama…”

  “We’re gonna find your Mama, I promise,” said Miela. “Can you describe the bad men?”

  “They’re big,” Helia raised her arms up. “Very big men. And they like to burn stuff. And they have knives!” she cried. “They hurt Mama.”

  “Bad men?” asked Noiro, confused. “All that blood… I thought they were probably attacked by an animal…”

  Miela didn’t answer, focusing on the toddler in front of her. “Good, Helia,” she said gently. They were getting some progress on information. “Can you tell me again, where did you come from?”

  “Right there,” Helia pointed again behind Noiro. “But it was night. And it was cold...”

  Miela narrowed her eyes. “Cold?” she murmured to herself. They were in the middle of a summer heat wave.

  “Cold?” Noiro echoed. “It’s just past the Summer Solstice—”

  “Helia, I’m going to take a quick look in your cloak. Are you okay with that?” Miela asked softly. Helia nodded hesitantly, watching Miela’s hands slowly reach out and push aside Helia’s woolen cloak to reveal thick cotton pajamas beneath, a large pendant on a long chain around her neck, and a large leather satchel tucked away at her side. Helia’s hair stuck to her neck in a slight sweat, the heat from the thick summer air outside seeping into the library and making her pajamas and cloak hang heavier on her tiny frame.

  “That’s a pretty necklace,” said Miela, trying to compliment the girl to set her at ease. Helia shifted uncomfortably. “Can I see what’s in the bag, Helia?”

  Helia shook her head and protectively clutched the satchel’s strap in her hands. “Mama said not to let go.”

  “I’m sure she just didn’t want you to lose it,” Noiro chimed in soothingly. “She’ll give it back, I promise.”

  Helia shook her head vehemently.

  “No, Mama said not to let go,” she repeated, her voice wobbling as she stood her ground against the two adults in front of her. “I want Mama.”

  “We’re trying to help you find your Mama,” said Miela, attempting to hide her frustration at the child. She knew she was nervous and scared, but the more time they spent coaxing the child, the more the child’s mother was losing blood.

  Miela wiped her hands on the back of her trousers, leaving crimson stains on her clothes. Her hands were bloody from just touching Helia’s cloak. With that amount of blood, and the time they spent talking to the child and trying to figure out what was going on, Miela feared the mother may already be dead. She shook her head and pushed the thought to the back of her mind.

  “You’ll give it back?” asked Helia.

  Miela nodded, holding out her palm.

  Helia stretched out her hand and dropped the satchel’s strap into Miela’s grasp.

  “Thank you,” said Noiro, patting the girl’s head reassuringly as he watched Miela sift through the satchel’s contents.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” she murmured to herself. “This is a heavy bag for a child to carry! A couple of old books, some other junk…” Miela flipped through one of the books, squinting. “The handwriting in this is terrible. I can’t make out a single word.”

  “Hold on,” said Noiro. “Let me see.”

  Miela handed Noiro one of the battered books as she sifted through the contents of the bag. She let out a sigh, not finding any item that helped her identify the girl or her mother. She looked at Noiro to see if he had any luck. He stood still, frozen in his place as he held the book Miela handed him. His face was pale as he stared at the first page of the book.

  “Is something wrong? Did you find something?” she asked quickly.

  Helia looked up at the two adults as they pored over the book Noiro was holding, feeling very uneasy. They were taking too long with her Mama’s books, and she briefly wondered if they were ever going to give her back the bag at all. Her stomach twisted in knots at the thought; her Mama told her to not let go.

  “I don’t understand,” said Miela, looking at the book and then back at Noiro. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Where did you get this book?” Noiro slowly uttered, staring at the toddler.

  Helia looked up at the man and folded her arms. “It’s Mama’s,” she said defensively. “Can I have it back, please?”

  “Uh, just a moment,” said Noiro, still staring at the first page of the book.

  “Noiro, you’ve gotta say something,” insisted Miela.

  Noiro turned his head slowly to Miela, then to the child, his mind reeling.

  “Well?” Miela pressed.

  “Th-this is not her mother’s,” said Noiro quietly.

  “How could you know that?” asked Miela. “It’s just a book!”

  “Because it’s mine,” he whispered, pointing at the messy words scrawled onto the weathered paper. “This is my book.”

  “What? How can she have something that’s yours? Do you know her? Have you two met before? Does that mean you know her mother?” Miela fired, spurred by the p
ossible lead they had.

  He shook his head, handing Miela the book. “Never seen her before in my life…”

  Noiro walked over to the desk he was sitting at right before Helia’s apparition and bent over to pick up one of the books he had knocked over in his surprise. He flipped to the first page, murmuring to himself as he walked back over to Miela, turning the book around and showing her the first page.

  “What?”

  “Miela, look at my book here. They’re identical!”

  Miela looked at Noiro’s clean, crisp book, and then looked at the battered book in her own hands. He was right; other than the state of the book, the two were identical.

  “So,” hummed Miela, crossing her arms and sneering, “you plagiarized from an old book?”

  “No, seriously, Miela! Flip through the other pages! Look!” Noiro exclaimed, flipping through his own stack of papers. “Look, here on the fifth page. There’s a giant ink stain from where my pen snapped last night. Check in that book. Is that there?”

  Miela flipped through and scanned the page, her finger resting on an identical ink stain marring the paper. She looked up at Noiro, and then turned to look at Helia, who was still watching the two warily. “What are you proposing this means, exactly?”

  Noiro shook his head.

  “Well, for one thing, it looks like my research is… completed,” he said slowly, flipping through the worn book’s pages. “Which is impossible. I just started…”

  “What do you mean?” Miela demanded, exasperated. “Explain.”

  Noiro sighed, putting a hand on the bridge of his nose as he tried to pull his thoughts together. “I’ve been working on a theory… but, no, it’s just a theory. It can’t be real. Can it? Did it happen?” He scanned the pages of the worn book and paused at a page, examining a detailed sketch.

  “Noiro, I’m not following,” Miela said. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve been working on a theory,” Noiro repeated. “It’s just a theory, but… I only just started… But this kid has my completed work right there with her…”

  “So you think that that old book,” Miela pointed at the battered book in his hands, “is your brand new research?”

  He frowned. Noiro’s voice shook as he said, “Assuming my research came to fruition… that is my research.”

  “What? How’s that possible?” asked Miela. “You say you’ve never met this kid before. How on earth can she have your research?”

  “Because her mother must’ve given it to her,” said Noiro, pushing his glasses up his nose. He pointed at the sketch he was examining in the weathered book. “That’s my research.” He shoved the book into Miela’s hands.

  She looked incredulously at her old friend, and then flipped the book open.

  Sure enough, Noiro’s name was etched into the front page as the author. She flipped through a few more pages, pausing when a large, colorful sketch caught her eye amidst the neat scribbles of text. She examined the sketch for a moment, thinking hard, and then glanced back at Helia.

  “Helia, can I see your necklace for a moment?” she asked.

  Helia shook her head no. “No, it’s mine! Mama gived it to me,” she said nervously, afraid that her necklace would be taken away from her by the two strangers, who seemed more preoccupied with her mother’s books than helping her find her mother. She held the pendant protectively in both hands, glaring at the two.

  “Impossible…” Noiro breathed. “It’s just… impossible…”

  “Noiro,” Miela uttered, turning to him. “What was your research on?”

  Noiro looked back at Miela. “Bending time,” he stated.

  “What?” Miela grew more confused.

  “Time travel,” Noiro explained. “It’s… I’ve… I’ve been…”

  “Time travel?” Miela repeated slowly, her jaw dropping.

  The pair stared at each other, and then incredulously at the child.

  “How?” Noiro whispered. “How?”

  “Sorry! Sorry! I know I’m so late,” a new voice said hurriedly, and a flustered woman swept in hastily, setting her bag down onto the nearby desk with a loud bang. “I needed to stop by-”

  “MAMA!” Helia cried loudly, running towards the woman with her arms outstretched, her face filling with excitement and relief. “Mama! Mama!” she beamed up at the woman and stretched her arms up, waiting to be held.

  “Oh! Who are—uh, guys? Who is this?” she asked uncertainly, hesitant to touch the sweaty, sticky child that clung to her. “You’re hurt!” she gasped, staring in horror at the blood smeared across the toddler’s face. “She’s hurt!”

  The woman looked at her friends, perplexed. Noiro and Miela were completely silent, staring at the pair in disbelief.

  “No,” Noiro breathed, his face twisting in anxiety.

  “Hello?”

  “Mama! Mama!” insisted Helia, desperately trying to get the woman’s attention as she tugged on the bottom of her summer dress, leaving a sticky red handprint behind.

  “Um… Elara,” said Miela, looking at her childhood friend.

  “Miela, what?” Elara scoffed. “Seriously. Who is she? Is she okay? She’s covered in blood! Why are we not panicking? Why are we not taking her to the hospital? Why are—”

  Noiro shook his head seriously, still stunned. “Elara,” he uttered. “Elara, stop.”

  “Mama!” Helia repeated impatiently, tugging on Elara’s dress again.

  The two adults in front of her looked like they had seen a ghost. Noiro looked like he was going to be sick. Miela’s face was pale, and completely stunned.

  Elara frowned, confused. “What?”

  REVELATIONS

  “Mama,” Helia pleaded, waiting for her mother to pick her up. Elara took pity on the girl and hesitantly lifted her up. She shifted uncomfortably with the weight of the unfamiliar child in her arms.

  “She’s covered in blood!” Elara repeated. She turned her attention to the sticky, sweaty, bloody child in alarm. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “‘M okay, Mama.” Helia nodded her head enthusiastically. “You okay, Mama? You okay?” She grabbed Elara’s face with both of her tiny hands, looking intently at the woman.

  “What? Oh, uh, yeah…” Elara trailed off, dazed.

  The little girl in her arms took no notice of her bewilderment, and instead took comfort in her arms, nuzzling her little head against the woman’s neck, sighing happily.

  “Guys? An explanation?” Elara demanded, trying to adjust the toddler into a more comfortable position.

  Noiro nodded. “Let’s put the kid down so we can talk.”

  “Uh, hey, do you wanna, uh… what do kids like to do?” Elara asked helplessly, struggling to find an excuse to put the child down and be preoccupied with something else.

  “Hey, Helia, how about that sweet now? Your Mama doesn’t mind, does she?” Noiro looked pointedly at her.

  Helia turned her head to Elara, as if to ask for her permission.

  “What? Um, yeah, that’s fine,” Elara spluttered, baffled.

  “All right, enjoy the sweet at that table, all right? But don’t touch any of my books!” said Noiro as he guided the toddler to his desk. Helia happily unwrapped the sweet he handed her and plopped it into her mouth, grinning from ear to ear. It was hard to believe that the toddler was the perfect picture of panic and despair just moments ago.

  “Okay. What on Earth is going on?” Elara demanded, turning to her friends.

  “Uh…” Norio glanced anxiously at Miela, his glasses sliding down his nose ever so slightly.

  “How about you start off with telling me who that kid is.” Elara gestured at the blood-smeared toddler smacking at the sweet as she absentmindedly examined the stack of books next to her.

  “Well…she’s yours,” said Noiro firmly. “Or at least, we think she is. Or, she will be your kid.” He sighed. “This is very confusing.”

  “What?” Elara’s voice rose as she drew back, bewildere
d. She rambled, “I don’t have a kid! Believe me, I’d know if I had a kid. And I definitely do not have a kid. She must be confusing me for someone else. She’s—”

  “Not many kids confuse their parent for someone else, Elara,” Noiro interrupted. “At least, not like that. And… well, she had this.” He handed her a tattered-looking book.

  Elara frowned. “An old book?”

  “Elara. Look at it. It’s our research. Completed. Only… we only just started.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. How can she have our research if we haven’t even finished with the first stages of it?” Elara took the book from Noiro’s hands, scanning through its pages. “This book is in awful condition.” She ran her finger down its spine. “It’s almost falling apart at the seams.”

  “Yeah, that’s because it’s old,” said Noiro. “Flip to the first page.”

  Elara almost dropped the book. There, on the first page, was her own name signed next to Noiro’s as co-author. Noiro held his own book open to the same page. It was an identical copy, down to the small smudge of ink that she had left when her hand accidentally swiped over a part that was still drying.

  “This doesn’t prove anything,” said Elara loudly, trying to convince herself more than anything else.

  “Think about it, Elara,” insisted Noiro. “What if… what if we were right?”

  Elara blinked, thinking hard.

  “We were right?”

  He shrugged weakly.

  “She was also wearing this,” said Miela, walking over from Helia, holding up a long chain with the large pendant.

  Elara examined the necklace, confused. “This means nothing to me,” she said shortly.

  Miela shrugged. “The kid said it was yours. Refused to hand it over until you showed up, too.”

  Elara studied the pendant closely. It was a dark, heavy stone. She frowned as she noticed the etchings on the stone. Elara held a hand up. “Our research, which we’ve only just started, is on bending time. This kid shows up, out of nowhere, and has our completed research with her.”

  Noiro nodded slowly.

  Elara glanced at him and asked, “Did we prove that bending time can work? Moving completely through time—is that actually possible?”