A usually peaceful house, in a usually peaceful town, blazed in the furious light of fire. The holiday decorations singed and crumpled to the ground, the Christmas tree only adding fuel to the starving flame. It had all started in an unexpected explosion, and as the neighbors had guessed, the blast was deadly.
Some of the worried neighbors looked towards the house, peering into the fiery blaze, fruitlessly hoping to see signs of life. Others were looking expectantly in the direction of the nearby sirens, hoping a firetruck and ambulance could fix the desperate situation. But inwardly, they all knew there was nothing that could be done, the poor family was certainly dead.
No one could survive that.
Some of them felt the horror at knowing that they had just witnessed the death of an entire family. Others simply were satisfying a morbid curiosity, watching the unfortunate end to their long-time neighbors.
Either way, they would all continue with their lives tomorrow, the event serving only as workplace gossip.
But as one of the titular unfortunate family members, Beatrix would never forget that night.
Though it was a miracle she was in a position to remember it in the first place.
She sat in what appeared to be a white void, desolate except for one man, a tall, handsome man with an unreadable expression.
Beatrix was vaguely aware she screaming, despair wracking her body. She felt strangely separated from herself, grief creating an insurmountable distance from everything.
Her family was dead. As the last one to die, she had seen their bodies mutilated in the blast. Their clothes blackened, and their skin crisped; their terrified eyes and mouths opened in a silent scream. She would never forget the sight.
She couldn't stop crying. She was trying to stop, but her mind was far too disordered for that. She crumpled on the ground, dimly aware of her fingernails digging into her face.
The silent man was watching. He had an empty expression, he didn't seem to have any opinions on her current state.
Beatrix felt a brief, passing sting of embarrassment, but the pure anguish piercing every single part of her body suppressed it.
She knew it was an accident; an inexperienced handyman had fixed their heater yesterday. The fix had simply gone wrong. He had no ill intention, it was truly an accident. Her family had no riches or power to take. No one would scheme against them.
But she couldn't help the flare of resentment in her mind. His mistake cost five lives.
She found, to her shame, that she hoped he lived with the guilt forever, just as she would live with her grief.
And indeed, somehow, here she was. Alive.
She slowly started coming back to her senses, at least somewhat. Why wasn't she dead with her family? Part of her wished she was, she didn't want to be without them.
Her cries and screams had abated; she lay limp on the floor.
"Who are you?" She didn't really care, at least not right now. But what else was she supposed to say?
"The god of time and space." He said simply. But now that she had calmed down a bit, a smile started to form on his face. It was pleasing, yet fake. His long brown hair settled on his shoulders, and calm green eyes assessed her neutrally.
"Am I dead? Are they dead?" She knew the answer, but she asked anyway.
"Kind of. It's a bit more complicated than dead or alive."
"What?" She was exhausted from the persistent misery still coursing through her
and could barely understand what he was saying.
"They can be alive, if you want."
A spark of hope grew in her, despite her attempts to snuff it out. They were dead,
She watched them die. But what if they weren't? What if she could save them? She hadn't had the mind to question it, but her situation was incredible enough that it might really be a possibility.
The tragedy would haunt her forever. But if she could bring them back, everything would be okay again. Everyone would be alive, that's what mattered.
Beatrix realized she would do anything to bring them back.
"How?" She tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her desperation.
"I need help with something, and you fit the bill perfectly. So if you help me, I'll help you. It's simple."
It wasn't simple, Beatrix could tell. The god's, if that's really what he is, flippant expression was now slightly tense. This was more complicated than he wanted to let on.
And there was no reason that she, in particular, was so special that she could make a deal with a god.
But she didn't care. She didn't care about his hidden motives, and she didn't care about who he was and why she was here. She was in no mental state to consider the consequences of her actions.
"What do you want me to do?" Beatrix asked.
His smile grew a bit, it was obvious she was going to agree to his proposition.
"There's a man, you see. He has this unique ability where he injects his soul into books. He doesn't necessarily make the book, or the characters in the books, come alive; He's simply hiding among them. And he's been doing this for a while now, all because he's committed a heinous crime, a crime that's cost many lives." He paused. His face was grave now, this was obviously not his favorite topic to discuss.
"As the god of time and space, it's my duty to stop him, since he's broken the rules that fall under my domain. And since we both have our respective motives, I want your help. I can't go into these worlds myself, so I need you to. He's weakened right now, as his soul is separated into shards in these books. Your duty is to destroy these shards."
"So you want me to…"
"Yes. I want you to kill him in these worlds."
"I can't kill someone!"
"You're just destroying some of his soul shards so he's further weakened. We need to be able to catch him, and we can't right now." What sort of man was this, that multiple gods couldn't catch him?