The Proctor of time

There was nobody there, nothing; the bed was empty and showed no sign that somebody had been resting on it. They dropped their heads, and the last healer walked away.

Baltasar could feel new memories flooding his mind, but they were old memories, older and older they seemed. He shut his eyes and he saw them. He remembered how he lost his arm and his eye.

"He died to save us from imu!"He said. They all raised their heads; he was seated, backing them, and with his head down, they could only see the large collars of his grey cloak.

"What do you mean sir," William said

"It's not true, it's not true, if Skarsgard died before then, then he would have to take up the mantle, we weren't powerful enough, couldn't stop it, I sacrificed my eye and arm for that, but I wasn't powerful enough, I couldn't protect him."

A new memories settled in his mind, one that felt of blood and bone, image of blood, seeping from underneath the rubble of a tattered house, Baltasar shuddered like he had seen a dark revelation, a twisted epiphany, tears poured out of his eyes,

"No! Not her too, please don't take her from me."

Memories of her laughing, memories of her angry, memories of her handing him her homemade lunch despite her anger and unhappiness. All those memories, those real memories all seemed to hide themselves underneath the rubble as her blood seeped out.

They all fully understood what had happened, not knowing how else to react they bent their heads and cried all except Mr. Lorde

"I'm terribly sorry, Baltasar," Mr Lorde said.

Baltasar raised his head and looked up to the ceiling; he saw the silver pipes run into it; a darkness had descended on the room ever since the sisters left.

The darkness clung to them tightly, and even with the few candles lit overhead, there were no shadows, just gloom sweeping across the room and back again.

The room fell silent, and soon they could all hear the bead of tear landing on Ruby's old brown shoes

"They're people in my office," Baltasar said suddenly. "I do not know them, nor have I sent for them." He chuckled wearily. "It's funny how it hadn't been my office till today and yet it feels like it's been so for the last thirty years."

The whole room let out and exhaled, then Baltasar said, "We must leave now, there's nothing for us here, "Not anymore."

He got on his feet and looked down at the bed for a second; it was smooth and undented; he exhaled deeply and reached for his right arm; he grabbed the empty sleeves.

Wiliam watched him grab at the empty sleeve over and over again until he touched the base of his severed arm; he rubbed it, let out another deep breath,, and turned around.

He looked like he hadn't shed a tear, but there was a deep swirling darkness in his one good eye, and amidst that was a shrinking spot of light.

He walked past them and they followed behind him. When they made it to the exit, he stopped. He waved his left hand over the door, and it became transparent; they could clearly see through, but in no way were they detected.

Baltasar looked around the room; there were two suited people by the door, one a blonde woman with short hair and by her side a lean brown-haired man.

There was a man seated on the guest chair by his desk, he wore a grey coat and had his head in a position where he couldn't quite see his face

The blonde-haired lady turned towards the door, looking at it as if suspicious, but the wizards had confidence he wasn't seen. He walked through the door without it opening. They all turned as he entered the room, the blond lady smiled, visibly impressed by his prowess.

"How may I help you all?" He said the others followed behind him. William saw the man in the grey cloak, his eyes brightened, "you were the man across the street with the cigarette," he said. The man looked at him.

"I'm charmed," he said." I've been called many names, but a street urchin with a cigarette is one I never thought I'd be recalled for; what's your take pride?"

The woman by the door smiled and said, "You must be losing your touch, sir"

"Yeah, that must be it. I'm terribly sorry, sir Baltasar, I hadn't introduced myself." Baltasar walked over to his seat leaving the rest standing by a few feet from the door.

"I'm Sebastian Moon, this is my associates Miss Pride and Mr Stockwell"

"And why are you here?" He said as he took his seat. " I'm a proctor," Sebastian replied, "well we all are." The wizards looked at him keenly, "a proctor of what?" he said. "Of time and space."

"Do you sell clocks or something?" Sebastian chuckled and said. "we fix them. well not clocks but time itself." William and his dad share a glance.

"What is this nonsense!" Baltasar said. "Don't waste my time. "

"I couldn't, we fix aberrations, things that shouldn't be, moments that shouldn't exist." Baltasar stared into his eyes, he could tell he meant every word.

"What you have now is not a problem with some mad witch cooking up dreadful cacophonies in a black cave somewhere what you have is a matter of time"

"Time?"

"Yes, you may not believe this but someone is expertly cleaving out key moments in history, strategically altering the very present which you're living in, like the death of your friend in the other room"

Baltasar looked at Mr. Lorde, and Mr. Lorde at William and William at Ruby. Sebastian reached into his coat, Baltasar became alert and he could feel it. He slowly brought out a folded paper, "these are excerpts," he said. "Exorcised from the daily newspapers, this one," he placed a tattered grey old torn piece of newspaper on the desk.

He turned it around so he could read it upright. "This one's from three months from now." Baltasar scanned the piece of paper. The headlines read, ON THIS DAY THE WORLD REMEMBERS THE GREAT WIZARD ARCHER D GREY

"And this one," he puts the second piece of paper on the desk. This one was neatly cut and fresh. "This one's from thirty years from now." Baltasar scanned the piece of paper. The headlines read THE WORLD MOURNS THE PASSING OF THE GREAT WIZARD ARCHER D GREY.

"so it's as you say, but then that means you're not from here, not from this time, not this reality"

"No, ours has been affected too"

"So how do we stop it?" Mr Lorde said; Sebastian took a glance at him, and when he turned back to Baltasar, his look exuded the same question, too.

"Well, we start by finding a boy named Ivan," William and Ruby looked at each other. "Ivan Blackzad."