It was 9 AM and Perry already wanted the day to be over.
"Welcome to Lucky Fries. Can I take your order?"
The customer, a middle-aged man wearing what looked like a borrowed suit, barely glanced up from his phone. "Yeah, give me the number three combo, extra large. And make it quick."
Perry entered the order without saying anything, his fingers moving mechanically across the touchscreen. Three years of working at Lucky Fries had stripped away any trace of enthusiasm from his voice or attitude. The forced cheerfulness that his manager used to insist on had turned into a flat, efficient monotone.
And he wasn't even allowed to use his phone when he was manning the register.
"That'll be twelve forty-seven."
The man thrust a credit card at him, still focused on whatever fascinating thing flickered on his screen. Perry processed the payment, put together the order, and handed over the bag, all without the customer looking up once. He didn't mind. It was better than the ones who complained.
Or worse, wanted to switch out ingredients and customize their orders as if they were at some gourmet restaurant.
The next customer stepped up to the counter, and Perry had to blink twice to make sure he wasn't hallucinating from exhaustion. She was an older woman, but carried herself with lightness and grace, her silver hair elegantly styled and her clothes hinting at old money. Basically, not your typical Lucky Fries clientele. But it was her eyes that caught his attention – they seemed to shift color as she moved, like oil on water.
"Peregrin," she said, and something in her voice made him stand straighter. "What a curious name. Does it carry any special meaning?"
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His name tag only said 'Perry.' He swallowed and forced his detached tone. "Can I help you?"
"Oh yes." She smiled, her eerily smooth face barely crinkling with the movement. And for a moment, her teeth seemed too sharp to be natural. "But the question is, are you ready to help yourself? Or, more importantly, help others?"
Perry blinked at her, his surprise momentarily forgotten. Was this woman on something? Should he call his manager? Or an ambulance?
"I... what?" His voice sounded just as confused as he felt. A cold prickle ran down his spine and his fingers twitched involuntarily. He glanced around, searching for some kind of reassurance, but none of his coworkers seemed to notice anything strange about the woman. In fact, now that he'd stopped to pay attention, no one seemed to notice her at all.
He wanted her gone and the fastest way to do that was to get her what she wanted. "Would you like to order something?"
She leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, Peregrin, have you been having strange dreams lately? Dreams of an open field and tall grass surrounding you, perhaps? Of a soft voice, whispering to you in a language you don't understand?" Her eyes brightened with a strange glow as she leaned forward a fraction more. "Have you seen the one in yellow yet?"
The half-formed strange dreams that had been plaguing him for weeks flashed through his mind. A cloudy gray sky, a chill that came from within him. Soft grass that brushed against his arms and in the far off distance, the roar of an ocean.
How did she know this? How could this strange woman possibly know this? He'd never told anyone. Not that he really had anyone to tell, but still.
It wasn't possible, it just wasn't. This had to be some kind of trick or prank.
"Listen, lady. I only work here. I'd be more than happy to take your order so we can both move on with our day. Everything else…" He trailed off, having no idea how to finish that sentence.
His heart raced as her smile grew. "Trying to get rid of me so soon?" She tsked softly. "And to think of all the trouble I went to find you. I will admit, they hid you well. But the inevitable is consequential, so here I am. Your consequence. And you and I, my dear Peregrin, have a long journey ahead of us."
His throat went dry and his palms started to sweat. He took a step back from the register, his sneakers making a low squeaking sound.
"Look, lady, either order something or—"
"I'd say my goodbyes if I were you. I'll be waiting for you on the other side. But don't take too long, my dear. My patience has already been tested enough," she said softly, and turned away before he could respond.
Perry watched her glide out of the restaurant, his hands shaking slightly. He didn't even know where to start processing what had just happened.
When the next customer walked up to him to place an order, Perry raised both hands and backed away from the register.
"I need a break," he announced to no one in particular, already heading for the bathroom. He needed to splash some water on his face, clear his head. Think.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as he pushed through the door. The bathroom was thankfully empty. He went to the sink and turned on the cold water, letting it run over his fingers before cupping his hands. The shock of the cold water against his face helped ground him a bit.
A strange woman with fancy contacts and too much Botox, that's all that had been. Maybe she was one of those fake psychics who went around taking advantage of people, promising to contact their lost loved ones. That's all it had been, nothing more.
She'd probably discovered his name from one of his old social media accounts that he hadn't updated in months. Whoever said social media was a great way to connect to people who shared similar interests had lied.
Back when he was a teenager he'd tried to make friends online. His experiences had been enough to make one thing abundantly clear to him: no one cared about his opinions or about what he liked. Or about what he had to say.
No one cared about him, period.
The eighteen years in foster care had more than drilled that into his head. It's not that he'd been a rebellious or problematic child. He didn't have any deep-rooted traumas for having been abandoned. For him, that was just life. Maybe that was the problem.
Because the truth was that Perry was a wholly unremarkable human being.
He didn't have big dreams or aspirations. No great passions he wanted to pursue. Some days, he felt as if he was barely even human.
Perry sighed. "Stupid brain, thinking stupid thoughts."
He splashed more cold water on his face and glanced up at the mirror, expecting to see his boring brown eyes and boring, short brown hair, but when he looked up at the mirror—
The surface was moving.
Perry stumbled back, blinking hard, but the mirror's surface continued to swirl like liquid mercury. The fluorescent light flickered and almost seemed to bend toward it, creating strange patterns that hurt his eyes to look at. He should leave. He should definitely leave right now. Right now!
Except he heard the distant roar of the ocean, and wind gliding through something, creating a soft rustling sound. Grass. That was the sound of wind sweeping through tall blades of grass.
So instead of running away screaming, he found himself stepping closer.
The swirling intensified, and now he could see... something... through the metallic surface. Colors he had no names for, geometries that simply shouldn't be possible. His hand moved on its own, reaching out to touch the mirror's surface.
It passed straight through.
Before he could pull back, he felt something grab him – not physically, but like a hook that had been sunk deep into the very essence of him – and pull him. The bathroom disappeared in a swirl of impossible colors as he was yanked forward into the void.
***
The "woman" stood in the alley behind Lucky Fries, watching the ripples of power emanate from the building. When they subsided, she nodded in satisfaction.
"Some balance, at last," she murmured to herself. "The lost son returns and the bargain is fulfilled in letter, if not in spirit."
She thought of the Queen's deceit and her cruel trick to try and deceive Fate. Not that Fate ever complained about humans and their frivolous games. Even if they were a stickler for the rules. But now everything had been put to right and the circle was finally complete. The lost prince would return home, though he did not yet know to call himself that and what his true purpose was.
She turned away, her form already beginning to fade with every step. Her work here was done. Let the story unfold as it would – she had ensured it would at least have a chance at a proper ending.