Once upon a time...a long long time ago, in a place known only in legend...there lived a quiet race of people. They were a solitary group, keeping to themselves as they looked out on to other worlds. They were observers. The recorders of worldly histories. Bidden to observe, but never interfere.
But, as with many societies, curiosity grew. To simply sit and watch grew limited. The observers wanted to travel the stars they had spent so long observing. Still, not to interfere; but simply to touch. To feel. To experience.
Unbeknownst to the observers, on a small moon beyond their home's twin suns, was the very key to unlock their dreams.
On this moon was another people. Similar in appearance to their observant cousins, but with an added effect of near-weightlessness. To look at these neighbors, you would know that they do not sit and stare. These were travelers.
Long ago, the travelers were just like their cousins. Not bidden with any important tasks, they were content with building homes and living simple lives. That is, until the schism was discovered. A tear in the face of the world.
One small tear that would change the course of the universe.
Villages began to grow around the schism. Leading scholars would sit and study it. Soon, more people came. Cities blossomed.
And the people changed.
This change was subtle. It started with the simple ability of being able to look at the tear. Then came the ability to look into the tear. And then the understanding of what the schism was. What it was meant for.
The first child born with the ability to travel the schism arrived just a short time after the realization that this tear would allow the people to travel from their home.
It was a noticeable trait, but only at first. A child that could travel would be born in a cocoon of translucent wings. With the first cry, the wings would unfold and fade. Travelers would look just like their neighbors, but was forever known as one of the chosen.
Initially just a few, after many more years it became many. Before long, it was more rare to be born without wings.
Now, these travelers were a giving people. Always willing to help. Then knew their neighbors wanted to travel the stars. And, having enjoyed this very thing, wanted to share it with their cousins.
The exchange was small at first. Chosen observers were selected, each paired with a well-knowledged traveler. The observers must first become accustomed to the schism.
Looking at. Looking in. Understanding.
The observes, wanting to achieve their goals quickly, rushed the process. Not taking the time their neighbors had, many went mad their first trip.
The need to be able to travel, but not freely like their cousins, as great. So, studying began.
If the ability for a body to travel through time and space was grown, could they not grow a "body" for others to travel in? But where does the ability come from?
The travelers knew, for they had asked the question years before. It was the difference between the travelers and the wingless.
It came from inside. And it required a heart.
Volunteers came from miles around, all willing to help. Elderly folk who no longer wished to travel were more than obliging. Living with only one heart, vice two, would be difficult. But possible.
All too willing.
The first ship born was a unique combination of traveler genetics and observer science. The process was relatively fast, as the body was eager to match the age of its heart. The first trip was short, but successful.
And then it went wrong.
The observers grew greedy. They wanted more than the few ships they had. But the travelers were few. While they were willing to help, they could not give everything.
So the observers took.
Old first. But the ships were slow and weak. So they took younger.
And younger...
And younger...
When the first newborn babe was taken, before its wings had barely unfurled, the travelers fled.
Some that could travel fled to the stars, never to be seen again. The rest left their homes at the edge of the schism and ran into the forests of their moon.
The loss of their "supplies" slowed the observers. Slowed, but did not stop.
Their science had expanded. They could not only grow bodies, but now they could grow hearts. They began to grow their own travelers; allowing them to age a short while, and then taking what they needed while shunting the rest aside.
Only a small group of chosen observers knew where the ships came from. A carefully composed history was given to the populace, praising the genius of their president. Not wanting to arise suspicion, they created a small fleet of ships and then hid the surviving children in various homes and orphanages.
There, they could blend into society, forever hiding the observers dark deeds.
Time moved on. The children grew. Had children of their own. Never knowing they were special. Never knowing their own sad history.
The observers, too, carried on. A school was established to weed out successors. Young students were taken to the schism for initiation.
Looking at. Looking in. Understanding.
Those that ran were easily passed on. Those that went mad were cured and passed.
Those that looked and did not run or go mad were expelled.
So long had it been, these new lords could no longer tell where the travelers were among their people. Any sign of them was banished from the prestigious halls.
They did not know who they were or what they were capable of, and the lords wanted to keep it that way.
But they were beginning to know.
The natural order of things has a way of hiding. But it also has a way of coming back when it has been beaten down. While the lost children of the schism no longer outwardly show themselves like they once did, the trait was not lost. It had simply retreated farther inward. These children may not know they can fly through space and time, but they knew they were different. The schism was alive in their hearts. The ability to fly was buried deep, but the ability to see was readily available.
One of these children had grown up in the heart of the city. Her farther was a prominent leader in the senate, her mother a much-loved teacher at a local school. Neither of her parents ever showed the slightest sign that they were children of that lost society; but as their only child grew, they could see hers would be a winged heart.
From a young age, the girl knew her destiny. She knew she would grow strong. She knew she would love deeply.
She knew the war was coming. And it would mean the end of all things.
She recognized him at once, as she watched him at play in the park outside her house. The ball rolled over to the swings she was on, he running after it. Neither believed in the silly idea of "love at first sight", they had been raised to think more logically than that.
That did not keep them from becoming instant friends.
He was raised as she had been, the young member of a prestigious family. His father was a teacher as well, but at the academy. His mother, a nurse at the hospital. They played all through the summer, creating tales of adventure and discovery.
When he went off to the academy, they still wrote. He told her all the things he was learning, and she told him all the silly, mundane happenings of the outside world. When he went for his initiation on the far-off moon, and looked into the schism, it was her voice he heard telling him to run.
Years passed. As they grew older, they grew closer. Even with both of them delving further into studies, they still strived to meet once a day at a café in the city. Some days they would talk, others they would simply sit.
He never noticed... But she knew their time was running out.
Things were changing yet again in the world. Dark times seemed to be seeping in. There were whispers. The lords were growing restless again. They wanted more.
As the world changed, so did roles in the world. The girl's father was no longer appreciated as he had once been. While her parents were more open and caring about what their daughter wanted in the world, the boy's parents were not. He was to be a great observer soon, and should marry accordingly. This girl their son had entangled himself with did not fit the bill.
Wishing to appease his parents, the boy had no choice but to agree with the plans they had for him.
Of course, the girl had known this was to come. She cried, but carried on. Wished him the utmost happiness in his life. And fervently promised she would always be there for him.
He married. Had children. His children had children.
She never married. Never had children. She knew her future and would not shy away from it.
They talked. Met at the café every once and awhile. Both carrying on; the flame still there, but fading slightly.
And that would have been the end, both going their own way. Except for the war.
No one could have ever known the extent of the war. Even those lost children who had the ability to see.
They could only see the end of themselves.
The lords had quickly realized that war meant a need for new ships. The forests of the neighboring moon were razed, but the travelers had long since fled. The only hope was to scour their own city, in search of the lost ones. But how to do it without giving away this long-held secret?
Interesting thing about wars. They can be an excuse for anything.
Vaccinations against a possible bio-weapon became mandatory. All citizens were required to not only get the vaccination, but submit themselves for testing to check for any other possible attacks from the enemy.
If they had remembered the true history of their world, they might have realized they could have simply asked. Even though it had been years since a true traveler had been seen, those lost still held true to their ancestors' spirits. And they were more than willing to help.
Those who could see knew there would be no distinction made between the wingless and those with true traveler hearts. They helped their friends and families flee before turning themselves over to the lords.
She met him one last time, at their café. He never knew, and she was not going to let him find out now. It was a simple farewell. Similar words came as they had when they had talked before he married. But this time, there was a ring of finality to them.
He never knew what became of her. Never knew where she had gone.
She never knew what he did during the war. Never knew what made him run.
What is known is that the last ship made had disappeared shortly before it was to be sent out on its first flight.
This same ship appeared in a back alley behind a café late one afternoon. Just as an elderly man and his granddaughter were running out the back door of the very same café. They came upon the ship, key in the door, and they flew away, not looking back.
She had kept her promise.
And now that you know the truth, I wonder what you will do with it. You, the boy who never stopped running. The man who always believes himself so alone in the universe.
Do you still believe that? Did you truly doubt that I would leave you? That I would not be there for you?
Silly Doctor...