You stared at the runes before you, wishing beyond all hope that you weren’t reading them right. There was a pretty good chance of that, after all. They were hundreds, if not thousands, of years old, in a language no one spoke anymore. You were probably pronouncing them all wrong, too.

This was the first time you’d encountered one of these asexual individuals yourself. You’d heard all about them from those Fey beneath you, though you’d always treated them as nothing more than myths or folktales. You knew that they could fall for the same romantic traps as anyone else, but it was the child-making that filled them with no interest.

“Look, even damage control in a situation such as this is extremely finicky.”

She paced back and forth in her office, contemplating the suggestion. As much as she was grateful for the opportunity, heading up an entire branch of the Time Bureau had its stressful points. This was one of them.

“There’s an elegant simple-mindedness to your logic, respectfully. I am fully aware of the magic I can wield, and I understand entirely that the person I’ve chosen pales in comparison to countless others in that same regard. But that isn’t what love is.

“One too many?”

The Investor stared at the testing field, where, sure enough, he counted at least ten duplicate faces in the crowd.

“What do you mean by ‘one too many’?”

At first, you couldn’t comprehend what you were looking at. It was a mass of tentacles—some squid-like and others far more alien—that much you could tell. They writhed around a central mass, keeping you from witnessing the truth that lay within. Not that you were sure your mind could handle it.

You weren’t sure when you received the title or how. You didn’t know where your power came from or why. You only understood what your role was, and nothing more.

The knight glanced past the dragon. Sure enough, there was a princess there in the cave. She wore the typical princess outfit, with the long, stiff dress and the poofy shoulders. Even the tiara on her head was as usual as they got, a silver accessory decorated with tiny rubies and emeralds.

The council of elders had all gathered around their newest inductee to the academy. Some had ventured from distant lands with intrigue in their hearts, while others were there to bring back news that would dispel rumors in their homelands. Most of the elders, however, were there for safety.

You had centuries worth of experience, literal decades alone spent terrorizing a distant countryside that had long since been taken over, renamed, taken over again, and ultimately burned down. You knew how to disarm a knight with a flick of your tail, disrobe them from their armor with a gnash of your teeth, and disembowel them with a slash of your claws. But never in your life had you had to deal with such an odd situation.

The priest kept silent as he circled the basket before him. His finger raised as he kept a silent count in his head, picking out each yipping mouth that lunged hungrily for the extended digit. His gaze narrowed further and further as the basket’s total reached four, then eight, then fifteen.

The village seemed peaceful enough from the outside. There were farmers in the fields, tending to the crops with gentle hands. Children were playing in the streets, kicking around balls or rolling hoops along the ground. On the air, the soft chatter of the adults reached your ears. You could hardly pick out any one conversation, but none of them seemed willing to cause harm.

The knocking on the door couldn’t have come at a worse time. Who in their right mind would disrupt a mother during birth? Everyone, including the doctor and nurses, couldn’t help but stare at the door, wondering who had decided to intrude.

The children were playing in the streets, screaming and shouting excitedly, when they heard it. It was a gentle, lilting melody carrying far on the wind. They all stopped what they were doing and searched for its source.

Twenty-three. That was how many he could sustain in his own little group; how many he could protect from the harsh realities of the god forsaken world. It hurt his heart every time he found another survivor, only to have to turn them away, to leave them injured in the dust, exposed to the elements and beasts. Even worse when they were children. He’d grown used to ignoring their cries for help.

“It is written in the Book of the Holy God that, once every one hundred years, the Dark Lord shall return, and the chosen one shall rise up to vanquish him before he can eradicate humanity.”

He eased his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and focused upon the energy deep within his body. It began as a fluttering in his stomach, before gradually feeding outward. It culminated in his hands, where a gentle glow formed.

You were the best in your line of work. No one killed quite like you did. With hundreds of jobs under your belt, you were always sought after to take out even the highest of priorities in targets. Time and again, you succeeded where countless others failed.

Your eyes squinted against the harsh light above, your body felt sluggish in its refusal to move, and your lungs ached as you breathed. Every inch of your body was in pain as you tried to sit up.

You were sitting at a bar with your friend when you broke the news to him. At first, he hadn’t believed you, which was typical for an elf. Far be it for them to accept stories outside of their own culture. However, as the realization set in, he finished off his glass of wine much faster than any you’d ever seen him drink before.