I follow him inside, there is no reason for him to invite me in, and also no need to; he does not notice me. He has been showing signs for the last four days, unnoticed by those who could do anything about it, those who can see have been bound to inaction, and I am no exception.
I am here solely to confirm the rumors that have been spreading quietly throughout the circle, I asked those others to watch for one showing the signs that fulfilled other conditions. He was the first. He believes.
I follow him into the bedroom, a simple affair, but it is here that the reason becomes apparent. Cartoon ponies watch from every wall, smiling in their pastel shades. Plushies sit on the otherwise unused dresser, and figurines keep vigil over the headboard.
He has been contemplating his next actions for four days, and I have been following him for three of them, watching as he is pummeled and insulted for his beliefs, unable to do anything as they attempt to take everything from him. I watch just as helpless now as he removes a thin razor from its hiding place taped to the underside of a drawer and removes an envelope from his backpack. It took him two hours to write, spread over the last two days, and I was forced to watch him write every line. He places it upon the bed, carefully surrounded by the remnants of his life.
He slits his wrist, keeping his jaw clenched to avoid shouting out in pain. I watch helplessly as blood spills out of his veins and onto the floor, staining the carpet red.
Time slows, and a figure dressed in a black cloak is there. I will not bother with futile attempts to describe him, for everyone know what he looks like, just close your eyes if you don’t believe me. In one hand he bears an hourglass, and in the other a scythe.
The sand creeps through the hourglass, individual grains falling like molasses. From a great distance the sound of hooves can be heard.
A white mare strides forth from the doorway, wings and hooves and horn shining like polished gold in the sun.
“You are too late” the hooded figure calmly says brandishing the hourglass that continues to slowly empty.
She glares at the figure before replying in a smooth, cold voice, much like fresh snow on a winter’s day “And what makes you so certain of that?”
“He is out of time” the figure states “He must be collected”
The mare strides forward, pushing the figure out of her way as she surges towards the youth. “You shall not take him” she bellows, showing anger for the first time. “Is that all they are to you? Things to be collected?”
“And what can you do to stop me?” the figure replies, choosing to ignore the second question. “Your kind are forbidden to interfere.”
The mare smiles as she bends down to whisper in the youth’s ear as he lies near motionless on the floor. “No, I am not allowed to interfere.” She says “But I am allowed to empower another to do so in my stead, in accordance to the rules set in place long ago.”
She turns to look directly at me before nodding her head. My metaphorical shackles dissolve, and the hooded man starts as I stride forwards, visible to him for the first time.
“You do not have to obey her” the figure states “You have a choice.”
“I was punished long ago for daring to act" I say resolutely "Now that I am free to choose I will not stand silently again.”
I tear off a part of my white robe and use it to bind his wrists. The material blooms with blood like a garden might with roses, but I pay it no mind. A wave of my hand cleans the blood off of the floor, and I scoop him up into my arms, taking care to grab the envelope from its resting place. As I move towards the door I see a single shining white feather pinned to it, I take it wordlessly.
The hospital room contains him lying in a bed and a nurse over in the corner, keeping an eye on his vitals in the monitor. As he begins to stabilize she leaves the room, and I fade into view. I take the feather that she gave me and wrap it carefully in gold before attaching it to a light silver chain. I place it carefully around his neck, and it glows slightly in the florescent light.
I create another silver feather, pinning it to my robe with a golden sun. I am no longer a watcher thanks to her, trapped in my own personal hell, unable to take action and forced to watch the worst of humanity. Now I am a guardian, something that I was long ago. Now that I am hers I will be busy, in part by coming whenever she calls, and in part attempting to figure out what she whispered in his ear. Now that I am able to act and interact I could always ask him, but what would the point be in that. I have an eternity to find out.