Most of them don't even know it was supposed to be a fish.

John Wilkes Booth stood amidst the swirling vortex of time, his heart pounding with anticipation and dread. The ancient artifact he had discovered in the hidden depths of a Cairo bazaar had promised him the chance to reshape history. With meticulous planning and relentless determination, he had pinpointed the moment: the assassination of Abraham, the patriarch from whom the Abrahamic religions had sprung.

As the maelstrom of temporal energies subsided, Booth found himself in an arid desert landscape, the air heavy with the scent of sand and centuries of history. Before him stood a man cloaked in robes, his features weathered by time and wisdom. This was Abraham, the father of nations, the pivotal figure in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.

Booth's hand trembled as he raised his weapon, a modern pistol incongruous against the ancient backdrop. He hesitated, grappling with the weight of his mission. This was not merely a political assassination; it was a strike against the very foundations of three major religions. Yet, Booth's fervent belief in his cause steeled his resolve. With a sharp intake of breath, he fired.

The shot rang out across the desert, a thunderclap against the silence of millennia. Abraham staggered, clutching his chest, his eyes wide with shock and pain. Booth's heart raced as he turned to flee, his mind already envisioning the seismic shift his actions would cause across history.

But as he hurried through the swirling sands, a sense of disorientation crept upon him. The landscape seemed unchanged, and there were no shouts of alarm, no chaos of consequence. Booth stumbled, falling to his knees in the shifting sands, his mind reeling with confusion.

Moments later, a figure approached—a man of Middle Eastern descent, his gaze steady and unwavering. "You seek to alter history," the man stated, his voice carrying the weight of ages.

Booth struggled to his feet, his eyes narrowing with defiance. "I have changed everything. Abraham is dead. The religions born of him will falter. I have reshaped the world."

The man regarded Booth with a mixture of pity and sorrow. "You have made a grave error, John Wilkes Booth. The Abraham you sought to kill was not the patriarch you believe him to be. He was a humble man, a prophet, but not the cornerstone upon which faith was built."

Booth's world shattered in that moment. His arrogance and single-minded pursuit of vengeance had led him astray. The artifact had deceived him, or perhaps he had deceived himself. The man continued, his voice resonating with an otherworldly wisdom.

"The Abraham you sought to kill was a vessel, a conduit for divine revelation. His death would have been tragic, but faith is resilient. It would have found other channels, other messengers."

Booth sank to his knees once more, the weight of his failure crushing him. The man approached, extending a hand in an offer of mercy. "There is still time to set things right, John Wilkes Booth. The artifact you wield is powerful, but it is not infallible. Seek redemption, not destruction."

As Booth looked up at the man, he saw not condemnation, but compassion. He realized then the magnitude of his mistake—a mistake that could never be undone. With a heavy heart, he surrendered the artifact, relinquishing his misguided quest for vengeance.

And as the sands of time shifted once more, John Wilkes Booth faded into obscurity, a cautionary tale whispered among those who dare to tamper with the fabric of destiny. He had sought to alter history, but in the end, it was history that had altered him.