ã€ŠThe Years of Apocalypse - A Time Loop Progression Fantasyã€‹


 Chapter 1 - It Begins

    Mirian woke abruptly, and then lay there, trying to figure out why. She had woken with a start, like she had heard someone scream, or like she¡¯d been experiencing a vivid nightmare. Only, she couldn¡¯t remember the dream, she just had this dreadful sense of loss that took her breath away, and she found herself crying without even knowing why.

    This quiet sobbing was enough to wake up her dorm-mate, Lily.

    ¡°Mirian? Are you okay?¡± she mumbled from the other bed.

    Mirian had to choke back a sob, but the feeling was at least dissipating. ¡°Yeah, wow, sorry. I¡ªnightmare or something, I guess,¡± she lied.

    Then, a drop of water hit her, right on the chest, dampening her bed-gown.

    It was raining outside; she could hear the soft pitter-patter of it falling with that soothing sound. But if it was coming into her dorm room, it was suddenly no longer soothing. She examined the ceiling, and sure enough: another drop hit her, right in the face. Looking up, there was a hole in the ceiling. It looked a lot like a bullet hole to her, except it had traveled through three floors and a roof to reach her and it hadn¡¯t gotten any wider. And obviously, she hadn¡¯t been shot or anything. She could only see the faint light coming from the cloudy sky if she positioned her head just right. She checked the covers. Shit, it had even gone through the duvet! But when she checked her chest, there was no hole or anything. Well, thank the Gods for that.

    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Lily said, eyes actually open now, and only a little groggy. Lily¡¯s blond hair was in its usual morning tangle, but she already had her thick glasses on. She was blind without them¡ªin the literal sense. The small glyphs on the side of the temples linked with the crystal lenses to let her see.

    ¡°There¡¯s a hole,¡± Mirian said. ¡°It¡¯s leaking.¡±

    ¡°Oh, great. Wait, what? We¡¯re on the first floor.¡± She came over and squinted at it. ¡°How the hell did that happen?¡± she muttered.

    ¡°No idea,¡± Mirian said, and then let out a loud sigh. ¡°Just what I needed, something else to worry about.¡±

    Lily nodded sympathetically. ¡°Don¡¯t you have an enchantments exam today?¡±

    Mirian put her head in her hands. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°And that presentation in your artifice class?¡±

    The clay cube covered in glyphs was sitting on her desk. It mostly worked. ¡°Also yes.¡±

    Lily gave her a quick side hug, then just sat there on the side of the bed with her. The moment was ruined when another drop came down and splattered them both, sending droplets over the inside of Lily¡¯s glasses. As she cleaned them off, she said, ¡°Listen, I can talk to housing today. I can skip my botany class this morning¡ªit¡¯s all review, and my professor will forgive me.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the best,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I owe you.¡±

    ¡°Nope, this one¡¯s free,¡± she said.

    There was no one in the rooms above them, it seemed, so Mirian took a tin container from under her bed and set it up on the covers to catch the water. After that, the ping! ping! ping! of the water annoyed her while she prepared for her academic battles.

    The Torrviol Academy was one of the oldest magic universities in Baracuel. This meant it came with a few centuries of historical baggage, one of which was a dress code. Each student wore the Torrviol uniform, which resembled the military dress uniforms of the army. Students wore different color combinations depending on their year. The colors for her were black and white with orange trim, as well as brass buttons going down the center of the coat. In that same regressive tradition, the women wore skirts, and the boys trousers, though the academy had finally yielded to complaints and now allowed the women to also wear trousers for athletics¡ªthank the Gods for that. Students also had different tassels on their uniform¡¯s shoulder pads depending on their year. She wore the gold cords of a final year student. Final year, that is, if she could manage to graduate.

    She was not at all sure she would be able to graduate.

    Students spent six rigorous years in the academy, and Mirian had struggled through all of them. The only classes she hadn¡¯t struggled in were artifice design and arcane mathematics. Everything else saw her studying late nights in the library, and still somehow managing to score lower than her peers on the exams.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    What she really wanted was for time to stop so she could rest up for a few days, pull herself together, and then catch up on her studies and classes. Since that obviously wasn¡¯t going to happen, she did what she always did: powered through her exhaustion and told herself she could rest when she was dead.

    Her first class of the day was Alchemistry 402, which was one of the legendarily dreaded classes required for her Artificer degree. Professor Seneca was a competent teacher, but there was only so much she could do to simplify such a complex field.

    Other students often hired tutors¨Cor each other¨Cto coach them, but Mirian didn¡¯t have the kind of money for that. She budgeted her silver carefully, but her parents could only send her so much. That was one of the reasons she was pursuing artifice: At last, she might be able to help pull their family from the margins into actual comfort. The old run-down house back in her home province was in dire need of repairs. Apparently, her little brother had put his foot through a dry-rotted board, but her parents could either afford to pay the healer or to fix the hole, and the choice was obvious.

    Mirian ate a simple breakfast of berries and porridge, which she quickly cooked up in the dorm¡¯s communal kitchen, then just as quickly scarfed down. Then she was off to class, donning her enchanted cloak to keep at least most of the rain off of her. As she walked, her mind went back to the hole in the ceiling. It was so strange. How did something make a hole that smooth? Even a force spell would leave spalling.

    Her walk to the Academy proper was a scenic one. The dorms were wrapped around the campus along the low crescent-shaped hill that overlooked the academic buildings. The area was lightly wooded, though the Torrviol Academy gardeners kept the trees and shrubs meticulously trimmed and the bright flowers well-watered. Sigil-bees buzzed about the flowers, striped abdomen pulsing with faint light each time they landed to drink nectar.

    As the cobbled walkway let out from the shade of the trees, Torrviol Academy presented itself in all its glory. The rain hadn¡¯t let up, but at this early hour, the sun was just coming over the horizon, so the strip of sky below the low-lying blanket of clouds was lit up in the orange and violet sunrise. The luminous sunrise silhouetted the domes and spires, here and there glinting brilliantly as the light caught a stained-glass window or the crystal pinnacle of a spire.

    The Academy was a strange mix of architectural styles dating all the way back to ancient times, though most of the truly ancient structures were actually buried underground. The most prominent buildings surrounded the large plaza in the center. Among them was the Kiroscent Dome, a massive structure of weathered marble and brick that took up the whole east side of the plaza. The building had been a temple at some point, but as the Academy was established, it became the centerpiece for the academic ceremonies. On the west side of the plaza was Torrian Tower, which Mirian had learned had been the tallest building in the world some few hundred years ago. It was easy to believe; the tower could be seen for miles around, and nothing else came close to it. Even Bainrose Castle, the circular medieval keep that had once helped protect the Academy from both invaders and monsters, was only a third of its height.

    The buildings only got more eclectic from there. Amid the ancient and medieval structures were painted brick buildings and newer concrete and glass structures that looked normal enough in a modern city, but downright strange amid all the historic buildings. The newer buildings also lacked a certain care and artistry that the older buildings had.

    Beneath the cobblestone paths and new streets were even older structures. The area Torrviol Academy had been built on had been occupied for millennia. Towns had been built, burned down, rebuilt, burned again, flooded, and rebuilt countless times. At one point, Torrviol had apparently been a much larger city; Mirian hadn¡¯t been paying all that much attention in her history classes, though, so she wasn¡¯t quite sure on when that was. That did mean the Academy had an entire three basement levels below, and rumor had it, there was even older stuff beneath that. When Mirian thought about it, she got an excited itch to explore whatever ancient secrets lay beneath, but then the less adventurous part of her brain reminded her that her grades came first.

    It was nearing the end of the quarter, so plenty of other students were scurrying about the campus for last minute studying, or on their way to early classes like she was. A poor first-year student¨Cobvious because of her white coat and bronze embroidery¨Cwas sitting on a bench in front of Bainrose Castle, crying. Yeah, Mirian felt that. It was just that she didn¡¯t have time to cry.

    On her way to the Alchemistry building, a newer structure, because the old one had burned down in an absolutely catastrophic fire that had killed three students and a custodian, a noise above her made her pause.

    She looked up, only to see a dark figure leaping across the gap between two buildings. The figure seemed to sense they were being watched, and glanced down from the roof at Mirian. She could see nothing of the person¡¯s shrouded face. At first, she wondered if it was a student, hellbent on an absolutely psychotic prank or bet, but the figure wasn¡¯t wearing any of the Torrviol colors or tassels. She opened her mouth to say something, but then the figure was gone¨Cducking away from the edge of the flat roof, leaving no trace.

    She looked around, but no one else seemed to have seen it. Mostly, they were keeping their heads down so the rain didn¡¯t drench them. Mirian couldn¡¯t quite explain why the creeping figure had felt so wrong, but the feeling seized her and wouldn¡¯t let go.

 Chapter 2 - Academic Life

    Mirian stood for a moment, trying to decide what to do about the shadowy figure she¡¯d just seen. She spotted one of the Torrviol guards in the plaza. He stood out amid the dark cloaks moving about the courtyard, his black, white, and orange tabard bright even in the overcast day. The nearby lamplight glinted off his polished ceremonial plate armor. Each guard also carried a ceremonial halberd, though if it really came to fighting, they had four wands and a revolver at their belt.

    She walked over to the man, wondering how one reported something like this. She¡¯d never had to report a crime or anything like that before. ¡°Hi, sorry to bother you.¡±

    The guard stood tall, not moving.

    Mirian cleared her throat. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ well, this sounds a bit silly, but I just saw a man, well, person, up on the roof, and they didn¡¯t look like a student. Atop the flat-roofed red-brick building there,¡± she said, gesturing. ¡°Then he jumped onto the Alchemistry building. His face was hidden. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s supposed to be up there.¡± Then, still receiving no response, she said, ¡°I just thought you might want to know.¡±

    The guard glanced at her. ¡°I¡¯ll report it,¡± he said, and continued to stand still, surveying the plaza.

    ¡°Great. Well, thank you. I¡¯m¡­ off to class,¡± she said, and walked off. Glancing back, the guard has still made no move to go anywhere or do anything. Apparently ''report it'' meant later¨Cmuch later. Now Mirian felt like a fool, and she needed to get her head on straight because Alchemistry was going to take all her focus. She hoped the creepy cloaked man stayed away from the classroom.

    The motto above the Alchemistry Building door read ¡°Respect for the Fundamental Forces of the Universe,¡± and below that, ¡°In Memoriam,¡± and the four names of the deceased, at least two of whom had not respected the magical chemistry they studied in the building. She made her way up three flights of stairs into the room, where Professor Sefora Seneca was waiting at the lectern, eyes on her pocket-watch. Professor Seneca was a middle-aged lady with dark hair and bright eyes who absolutely delighted in the subject. She alternated between excitedly talking about the subject and then surveying her audience of students, eyes full of pity because she could tell they clearly weren¡¯t getting it. ¡°It¡¯s a complex subject, so it takes a lot of study,¡± she was fond of saying. One student had heard it so much he commissioned a small banner with those words and presented it to her, and so she often would just punctuate a part of her lecture by simply pointing to the banner and looking out at the class over the rims of her thin spectacles.

    Mirian hurried into class and hung her cloak on one of the pegs, then took a seat near the front of the room.

    The nearby clock tower bell bonged out its six chimes. Professor Seneca snapped shut her pocket watch and began class immediately, ignoring the few students who were hurrying to their seats.

    ¡°Alright, class! Today we¡¯re going to do a grand overview of the principles of alchemistry. And before anyone asks, yes, this will all be on the exam tomorrow. After that, there will be time for questions.¡±

    She hit a rune on the lectern, and the lights dimmed. She hit another rune on the lectern, and a small spell engine installed in the ceiling came on, projecting an illusion spell onto a central pedestal in the front of the classroom. The illusion spell was preconfigured to show the various concepts Seneca described, and the technology still baffled Mirian. The spell-engines she had seen as a kid could heat a building, spin a turbine, or push an object, but nothing like this. The technology was growing in leaps and bounds, and she still felt a sense of wonder at it.

    ¡°Remember, we started our class reviewing the types of mana flows. The natural mana that orbits your soul is the auric mana. This is the stuff you have been using in all your spellcasting since your first year, so moving on. It can be used in spell engines, but spell engines are inefficient and extremely mana hungry, so directing your own mana flows into a spell engine is a good way to accidentally get your soul peeled apart, so don¡¯t do that.¡±

    ¡°Will that be on the test?¡± a student in the middle row blurted out.

    ¡°It will be now!¡± Professor Seneca happily chirped. ¡°No more interruptions, please. Mana traveling along an organism¡¯s aura¨Cthat includes humans¨Cis considered in-flow. Think of it as the kinetic force of a moving object, like a river. The energy is in the motion. Your other classes cover that extensively, so we won¡¯t dwell on it. We contrasted that with alchemical mana, which is stored in magichemical bonds, much like chemical energy-rich substances like sugar or wood store energy. The three types of magichemical bond are each governed by a different equation.¡±

    The illusion in the center of the pedestal changed to show three pictures and three floating equations next to them. Several students in the class scrambled to write them down. Mirian found the color-coded tab in her notebook that was for the class and checked to make sure the equations she had written were correct. They were. Also, she¡¯d memorized them already. Math was the easy part for her.

    ¡°Alchemical mana is classified in three ways: One is usefulness to humans. Remember, this form of classification is archaic, but it¡¯s still used everywhere so you need to know it. A-class mana is the only mana that is safe to channel. Classes go A through D, and D-class mana will kill you instantly. Again, a metaphor: You can get energy from eating plants. A-class mana is like a carrot. Great. Eat as many as you want. Using B-class mana is like eating plants that will give you diarrhea; you can do it a little bit, but it will hurt. Using D-class mana is like eating a piece of anthracite coal. Yes, it used to be a plant. Yes, there¡¯s lots of energy in there. No, you can¡¯t use it; don¡¯t eat toxic rocks.¡±

    She didn¡¯t pause, because this was stuff they¡¯d covered back in the 200 level classes, though a few students were hurriedly jotting notes about it anyways. Embarrassing.

    ¡°Next, mana is classified on a volatility scale. One is perfectly volatile, which means it is in the process of exploding. Zero is perfectly stable. The average human aura has mana orbiting in a flow of about 0.1. The average myrvite fossil has a stability of one thousandth of that. Incredibly stable, right up until that¡¯s disrupted, and then it has an index of 0.9, which is why it kills you if you try to use it. This leads us to the Tarrian-Bolt equations of flow transformations¡­¡±

    The lecture continued, with the projected equations and diagrams also changing. Here and there, Mirian took more notes, but mostly, it was already in her notebook, written in her neat but tiny handwriting, color-coded, and with tiny equations or diagrams next to the words.

    One of her classmates, Nicolus, leaned over at one point to get a closer look at her notes. ¡°Damn,¡± he said, raising both eyebrows for emphasis, then went back to his own notes, which were chicken-scratch that she wondered if even he could read.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    Mirian blushed.

    Nicolus was one of those handsome types that had his good looks magnified by his easy confidence. Adding to that he was tall, muscular, and apparently came from a very wealthy family. These days, wealthy families tended to send their children to the extremely prestigious foreign schools west of Baracuel, but the Torrviol Academy was ancient and renowned enough that it was still a respectable choice.

    Mirian had stayed away from Nicolus, mostly because he was at the center of a great deal of relational drama she did not want distracting her from her studies. She hadn¡¯t even noticed he¡¯d sat next to her, which was no doubt causing immense consternation for someone.

    She focused back on the lecture.

    Next, Professor Seneca covered the third classification, which was magichemical molecule-type. Here, there were a dozen categories, each with a hundred common alchemical compounds. This was what most of the lecture time and labwork had focused on, and also the part that gave Mirian a headache. She had stayed up in the Bainrose Castle Library for hours each night, and she still barely felt like she understood it. It wasn¡¯t that Seneca was a poor alchemy teacher, it was just, as she kept saying, really hard.

    With five minutes left before the class ended, Seneca started taking questions. Most of the questions were stupid, and just proved that some of the students hadn¡¯t been listening, so Mirian tuned them out and paged through her notes.

    Nicolus leaned over. ¡°Hey. Want to study together? I have a personal tutor who will help us.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Then she felt kinda silly. This wasn¡¯t like a date or anything. ¡°Sure,¡± she said. ¡°My last class ends at four o¡¯clock.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you after that in front of Bainrose Castle, under the gatehouse so we don¡¯t get rained on.¡± Then he stood up and left, which got him a glare from Professor Seneca, though she kept powering through the questions without missing a beat. A minute later, the belltower rang out that it was ten minutes till eight, and Mirian headed for her next class.

    Myrvite Ecology 351 was in one of the strangest buildings of the campus. On the northern periphery of the academy, the Myrvite Studies building was based on an old granite arena where gladiators used to duel. The crumbling stone walls had been refurbished, and the second half of the arena had been replaced with a modern building of tall glass windows and concrete covered in plaster. The plaster gargoyles and designs showed all the creatures that the arena had once hosted in its glory days: various chimeras, wyverns, bog lions, razor lizards, and more. In the middle of the arena, where the action had taken place, was a resplendent greenhouse, packed with magical plants.

    Professor Viridian¡¯s classroom was on the fourth floor, overlooking the greenhouse. It was easy to get distracted by the glistening silver petals of the moonlily, or the softly shimmering flames of the fireweed, or any number of the beautiful plants below. Professor Viridian himself sometimes drifted off during a lecture and stared out at the view. He was, Mirian thought, at least pushing seventy, and had such a stereotypical gray bushy beard that he might as well have just worn a sign saying ¡®wizard¡¯ on it.

    Viridian was a wizard, which was to say, his primary job at the Academy was magical research. Obviously, most of it involved magical plants.

    Today, Professor Viridian had brought another potted plant to class. He rejected all of the newfangled spell engine technology, preferring to show off his examples, writing any notes he wanted on an old-fashioned chalk board. This was strange enough even among the older faculty that they¡¯d needed to wheel a chalk board into the room especially for him.

    The plant of the day looked unusually normal for a magical plant. The large leaves were a beautiful mix of maroon and pink, but Mirian had seen mundane plants with red leaves too. Unlike most of the plants, this one was in a pot surrounded by glowing runes. Those were either to protect it¨Cor protect them.

    ¡°Regal cordyline, ruby variety,¡± he said, as way of introduction. ¡°There¡¯s a mundane species of this plant as well. Note the long, thin, striped leaves. This variety prefers shade and tropical conditions, so you won¡¯t see it outside of Tlaxhuaco or a greenhouse. It absorbs ambient mana, like any of the myrvite plants, and produces glycoaurate 15-A.¡± Professor Viridian moved to the chalkboard and sketched out a quick diagram. ¡°Now, you are making a connection. Professor Seneca has made you memorize this compound, because it is used in seventeen different spellbook glyphs. What is its classification?¡±

    The class was silent. Professor Viridian waited patiently. No matter how long it took, he always waited for a response. Mirian didn¡¯t particularly like drawing attention to herself in class, so she waited for someone to answer, even though she knew.

    Annoyingly, Valen raised her hand to answer. ¡°Glycomyriate,¡± she said, which was, unfortunately, correct.

    Mirian didn¡¯t like Valen. For five years, she had insulted, belittled, and occasionally started rumors about Mirian. Mirian, for the most part, just tried to stay away from her. Sadly, they both were on the path of the artificer, which meant their classes often overlapped.

    ¡°Yes, and what do we know about glycomyriates?¡±

    ¡°Very volatile when their mana flow is destabilized,¡± Valen said, which was also correct.

    ¡°Observe,¡± Professor Viridian said. He put on a gauntlet¨Cthis was not a small one, either, it was steel plated with prismatic runes glowing along it¨Cwhich looked ridiculous on his thin boney frame. He then reached through the magic barrier the pot was projecting and plucked a single leaf.

    The plant erupted in golden light, activating the barrier which flashed white. Mirian could feel the heat even from the second row. The golden light rose until it was above the plant, then spun in a circle, crackling.

    ¡°Observe, the golden crown,¡± the professor said, ¡°hence regal cordyline. Wear proper protective gear, or you¡¯re likely to lose your arm. And despite many advances in healing, we cannot regenerate your limbs.¡± Viridian showed off the black singe marks that now coated the gauntlet. Smiling, he dropped the now burnt leaf on the table, and began the lecture.

    Professor Viridian was not just a leading researcher in myrvite studies; he was also a fantastic teacher. Mirian found she remembered just about everything he talked about. She¡¯d been lucky enough to have him her first year. Everyone knew that myrvites were what you called the various magical plants and animals, but Mirian had learned from him all sorts of fascinating facts she¡¯d never heard before.

    Now, his lectures were equally fascinating, as Professor Viridian described how the ambient mana¨Cuntouchable by humans, except for the small amount that accumulated as an aura around their soul¨Cmade its way through the whole ecosystem. The process was incredibly complex. He also always connected what they learned to their other classes. Each alchemical compound they were hearing about in Seneca¡¯s class was given life as Viridian either brought in a plant or small myrvite creature that produced it.

    As he talked, Mirian liked to sketch little pictures of the plants or animals he presented with a connecting diagram. And Nicolus seems to like that, she thought. Friendship with Nicolus would solve a lot of her life problems. Money, for one¨Cthe boy was notoriously generous. But he was also very protective of his friends, and bad things happened to people who messed with them.

    Four pages of notes later, Mirian left the class, head bursting with diagrams and terms. As she was heading for the stairs, though, she saw something strange: Another cloaked figure, heading away from them down one of the long stone corridors. This time, she knew it was trouble. The corridor led to the myrvite kennels, where several dangerous magical creatures were kept for study.

    Someone was next to her. ¡°Did you see that?¡± she asked, not even realizing who she was talking to until she saw¨C

    Oh, great, she thought.

    Valen.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she muttered, ¡°I didn¡¯t realize¨C¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Valen, which surprised Mirian. ¡°Isn¡¯t that corridor forbidden? That wasn¡¯t a researcher, they wear that bright warded clothing.¡±

    Mirian stood there dumbly, not knowing what to say to Valen of all people being¡­ normal. ¡°We should tell Professor Viridian,¡± she said. ¡°Something weird is going on.¡±

 Chapter 3 - Academic Life II

    Professor Viridian nodded along as Mirian and Valen reported what they had seen. ¡°How strange,¡± he agreed. ¡°I¡¯ll look into it.¡±

    When they left, though, Valen said, ¡°He didn¡¯t believe us.¡±

    Mirian was confused. ¡°But he said¡­ I think he did. And why wouldn¡¯t he, anyways, there¡¯s a lot of dangerous stuff in that wing!¡±

    Valen gave an exaggerated sigh. ¡°You need to stop paying attention to what people say and pay more attention to how they say it.¡± Ah, there was the Valen that Mirian knew. But before she could come up with a retort, Valen was off, heading a different direction. Mirian opened her mouth to say something rude, then closed it, and headed toward Enchantments. She had an exam, and no time to waste.

    Enchantments was in one of the older buildings. It had a complete facade of worked granite, and looked its age. Walking through its halls, Mirian felt like she was one of those ancient arcane pioneers who had risked everything to further the knowledge of humanity. The polished marble floor was worn down with the footsteps of all the students that had preceded her, and it made her feel important, like she was in history.

    Well, it usually did. Today, her stomach was in a knot because the enchantments exam was today, and it was purely practical. Classic spellcasting¨Cthe kind that didn¡¯t involve a fancy new spell engine¨Cwas a complex thing. First, they needed to draw from their auric mana using an arcane catalyst. Humans, after all, were not magical creatures. Try as they might, there was no way to access their mana without an object already designed for it. Primitive people had used the magical organs they took from the myrvites they hunted. A chimera¡¯s skull, for example, was a great arcane catalyst, but then that involved killing a chimera, and that was dangerous as hell. A wyvern¡¯s wing was also a great catalyst, but getting that was also dangerous, and then you needed the whole wing, which was just unwieldy. So after many years of wizards pondering and sorcerers blowing themselves up trying out new and exciting magical materials, society had figured out how to distill the alchemical substances that tapped into an aura.

    For this exam, Mirian wielded a scribe¡¯s pen. The brass and silver upper shell of it contained dried and powdered cockatrice heart, which was the arcane catalyst. Try as they might, no one had been able to synthesize the magichemicals that made the arcane catalyst work.

    It was possible to shape raw mana, but incredibly difficult. The resulting spell was usually just a concentrated blast of energy, and not even a very powerful one. To actually work as an effective spell, the mana had to pass through shaper-glyphs. The scribe¡¯s pen had replaceable shaper-glyphs where a normal pen¡¯s nib was.

    Mirian then had to use these glyphs to¡­ make more glyphs. A complete set of glyphs could form a spell when mana was channeled through them, but this class was all about making the glyphs in the first place. A lot of magic was like that: A lot of tedious work. That was Enchanting 310, and Professor Eld was, in a word, a hardass. His exams were brutal, and he routinely failed students who underperformed. Worse, unlike the other enchantment professors, he only let students use the basic glyphs on their pen nibs. When questioned on this, he went on a rant about ¡°strong fundamentals!¡± and ¡°kids these days want everything handed to them!¡± Mirian just kept her head down and did her best.

    Near the end of the hour, though, she was only on her eighteenth glyph out of the twenty-four required, and disaster struck: The girl next to her mischanneled her mana, causing a wave of force to burst across the table, sending her pen flying. This interrupted her mid-glyph, and the magical inks she was using splattered, starting a small fire.

    Mirian hastily blew it out, then scrambled to retrieve her pen.

    As she got up, Professor Eld loomed over her, his beady eyes glaring.

    ¡°Sorry. Sorry! The force wave knocked it out of my hand and I was mid-glyph and¨C¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want excuses,¡± he snapped. ¡°Do you think it matters if you¡¯re sorry if your idiocy blows up a spellbook and kills someone? Do you think your employer cares why your incompetence burned down his factory? Be glad I¡¯m not failing you on the spot.¡±

    Humiliated, Mirian slunk back to her seat. She didn¡¯t say anything to the girl next to her, but she wanted to punch her.

    When Mirian was young, she¡¯d had a nasty temper. It didn¡¯t take much to set her off, either. She got in fights at playgrounds, around the neighborhood, at school¨Ceverywhere. Her parents had been patient, and also relentless. They taught her breathing exercises, meditation, and more, repeated the rules over and over and over, until Mirian was sick of it. But it had worked: she was very good now about not hurting anyone, and even as the thought came to her, she heard her father¡¯s voice: No violence.

    So she took a deep breath and continued.

    Glyph eighteen was ruined, so she skipped it and worked on the next one.

    She was just finishing glyph twenty when the sand in the timer up front finished dropping, and a magical chime rang out in the room.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°Time. Time!¡± said Professor Eld. ¡°Pens down, now. Now! I see a scribe¡¯s pen moving, that¡¯s an automatic fail.¡±

    Mirian slammed her pen down, and the twentieth glyph, only half-formed, evaporated in a wisp of smoke. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry.

    Instead, she turned in her exam sheet and left class.

    The girl who had screwed her over came up and said, ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m so sorry,¡± but Mirian just waved her away. She didn¡¯t want to hear it.

    Exercise always made her feel better. Mirian would have loved to pass the time with a few rapier duels, or run through the Mage¡¯s Grove, but there was no time for that. She had a presentation to give, and only ten minutes to get to her next class.

    The Artificer¡¯s Tower was actually four stout towers connected by a network of skybridges. The architect was, apparently, Persamian, so the building featured elaborate arches and geometric designs. The distinct red and white stripes on the arches and skybridges made it stand out sharply among the more muted colors of the nearby buildings.

    Artifice Design 425 was Mirian¡¯s favorite and least favorite class. Favorite, because she loved creating. She loved sitting down and calculating where each glyph should go, and the process of assembling the copper wire and fired clay. She loved working in the metal and wood shops. There was a sense of accomplishment that came with artifice, and nothing rivaled it.

    She hated it because she had to make do with donated materials that had come out of a scrap yard because she was too poor to afford the nice stuff. While her tuition covered access to the alchemical labs and spellforges, materials were her own responsibility. When she saw the silver filigree and crystal nodes on her peers¡¯ devices, she couldn¡¯t help but feel a deep envy.

    The presentations, thankfully, took place in the labs, which meant there were only twenty-some students staring at her, rather than a lecture hall of a hundred. Still, it was mortifying. Mirian hated drawing attention to herself, and giving a presentation meant she had to. She did her breathing exercises, then walked to the front of the room and plopped down her cube.

    It was about three inches per side, and about as unimpressive to look at as anything. She had written herself notes, but realized with horror that she had left those notes in her dorm in the morning rush. So she launched into a rambling speech based on what she remembered.

    ¡°So this is a force turbine. It uses rashak and quetoban glyphs, uh, primarily, at least, to generate force, and it¡¯s a spell engine, which was the assignment. You, uh, well, it¡¯s a basic spell engine because¡­¡± She paused, not wanting to say the real reason it was copper and clay. ¡°--because it attempts to demonstrate cost-efficiency in design, and here¡¯s the back end where you put the fossilized myrvite. Then it just needs a quick channel in the rouve glyph and, yup.¡± Realizing that the force moving above the cube was invisible, Mirian snatched a pen from the podium and placed it over the cube. It turned in lazy cartwheels while Mirian stared out at the class and bit her lip. Then she turned it off and launched into an equally eloquent description of the design she¡¯d used. By the end of the presentation, she wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Instead, she asked, ¡°Any questions?¡±

    Thankfully, the room was silent, though that was equally nerve-wracking.

    ¡°Thank you, Mirian,¡± Professor Torres said. She was the youngest professor Mirian had, but only one student had made the mistake of thinking that meant she wasn¡¯t knowledgeable. Professor Illiyia Torres had helped design a military spell engine that was being used by the Baracuel artillery. That had been her final design project here at Torrviol Academy, as a student. She was still learning how to teach, but her expertise was unrivaled. ¡°Did you consider using caudicite to narrow the mana flow along the first glyph exchange?¡±

    Mirian had, but then she¡¯d seen the cost of caudicite in the store. Apparently, it only came from fire drake eggs, and a tiny vial was five silver drachms. That was her monthly food budget. ¡°Yes, but the project sought to demonstrate cost-efficiency. If I was aiming for efficiency, I would have used the caudicite and silver wire between the fifth and sixth nodes, and a brass furnace chamber with corundum input channels.¡±

    Professor Torres nodded at that, which was high praise. Then she said, ¡°If you really wanted to reduce cost, you could do without the third and forth sections.¡± She then outlined a completely different design, one that made Mirian¡¯s head spin. It was using principles they¡¯d barely touched on in class.

    Mirian just nodded along, doing her best to follow. As far as she could tell, Professor Torres critiqued everyone¡¯s design, and no one had managed to make something she didn¡¯t have at least three problems with. Thankfully, after only a few more minutes of back and forth, Torres said, ¡°Good, you pass. Next presentation, please.¡±

    And that was that. Mirian hadn¡¯t expected her project to be graded right then and there, but, hey, at least one thing had gone right today.

    Mirian¡¯s final class of the day was Arcane Mathematics 572, which was just after the lunch hour. It was the sole class taught by Professor Song Jei, who was also the only lecturer in Torrviol Academy who was from the distant land of Zhighua. Professor Jei had an ageless look to her and was impossibly stern. Her thick accent made it hard to understand what she was saying, but thankfully, she spoke the language of math like no one Mirian had ever seen. If Professor Torres was a genius, Professor Jei made her look like a novice. She was a pioneer in the field, and rumor had it she was working on a special project for the Academy, though no one could agree on what.

    When asked about the project, she glared at the student and said, ¡°I once heard there are no stupid questions. That was a stupid question. Do not ask stupid questions.¡±

    What was clear was that no one else had the expertise she had, hence the special invitation. Mirian looked up to her like no one else. Her confidence and mathematical fluency was inspiring.

    Today¡¯s lecture was about turning the measured flow of a mana stream at different points into the best-fit equation. It was mind-blowing stuff, and seriously complicated. This was the one class she didn¡¯t hesitate to ask questions in. Unlike her other classes, she figured if she was lost, at least half the class was, and so every so often her hand would shoot up. Professor Jei was not necessarily great at teaching, but she could always explain a mathematical transformation or the concept behind an equation. And she never said Mirian¡¯s questions were stupid. Mirian wasn¡¯t sure she could survive if Professor Jei ever said that about her.

    By the end of classes, it was four o¡¯clock, and she felt the exhaustion creeping up on her. But there was just no time to be tired. She had a study session with Nicolus to attend.

 Chapter 4 - Study Session

    True to his word, Nicolus was standing under the gatehouse arch, uniform crisp and clean as it always was, his cloak draped over one arm. The rain was still coming down lightly. There was another figure standing by him, cloak still on. For a moment, Mirian froze. She remembered the two strange people she¡¯d seen slinking about the campus and thought, is this another one? But then she realized, that¡¯s Nicolus¡¯s tutor, you dummy.

    ¡°Ah, Mirian. Glad you could make it. This is Sire Nurea March, though to frustrate the sense of dignity she tries to maintain, I call her ¡®Nur-Nur.¡¯ She¡¯s been my tutor and friend for¡­?¡±

    ¡°Twenty years,¡± Nurea said. Which meant she¡¯d apparently started when he was two. The title also meant she was a knight. Long ago, that meant she would bear arms for the Nicolus¡¯s family when called, but now it just meant she had a hereditary estate. It also meant, because of her status, that land was not taxed. That meant their families had been working together for at least a few hundred years.

    ¡°Good to meet you, Sire Nurea,¡± Mirian said, bowing slightly as she shook Nurea¡¯s hand. That was, her parents had taught her, the proper greeting to give a knight.

    Nurea smiled slightly at this. She was a tall woman, and beautiful. She stood straight as a soldier. The precision and grace of her movements spoke of someone who still considered etiquette important. She had a commanding presence, and a strong voice. ¡°Good to meet you, too, Mirian.¡±

    As they walked into Bainrose Castle¨Cnow a vast library that filled every level of the keep and several basement levels¨CMirian said, ¡°I thought the study group might be larger.¡±

    Nicolus laughed, that easy, warm laugh of his. ¡°Hah! That¡¯s the other study group. They¡¯re more¡­ drinking buddies.¡±

    Mirian raised an eyebrow at this. Drinking was not allowed at Torrviol Academy.

    ¡°I couldn¡¯t hide it from Nur-Nur here if I tried, so I don¡¯t try. Besides, it serves a useful social function, so as long as I don¡¯t over-do it, she doesn¡¯t even disapprove. Well,¡± he said, winking, ¡°she still disapproves a little.¡±

    Nurea said nothing to this.

    Bainrose¡¯s keep was a massive structure, with large vaulted ceilings on the first level. The second level consisted of elevated walkways that hugged the walls and pillars. Once, archers and magi would have stood there to confront any attackers breaching the keep, but now it was just another place to put shelves.

    Towering shelves also stood in rows from one end of the hall to the other. Some days, when Mirian wanted to be alone, she would go to the second story and lean out on the railing, watching as people wandered the long corridors of books, here and there settling down to read. Somewhere beneath the stone floor, hot air from a magical furnace raced beneath, so the place was always warm, even in the winter.

    Off the central corridor, there were loads of rooms. Long ago, one of the noble families had lived here, with all their servants and knights, but now the rooms were all re-purposed for study, research, conferences, or events. Thankfully, the Academy had also installed pipes with running water, so now only a single latrine remained in the museum wing, for preservation.

    They made their way to one of the study rooms, where several textbooks and notecards were organized in neat piles on one of the tables.

    ¡°Thanks again for inviting me,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Alchemistry is¡­.¡±

    ¡°¡ªhard,¡± Nicolus finished. ¡°Even Nurea here can¡¯t keep it all straight. That notebook of yours told me you had a good way of keeping it all straight though. And, it did what Professor Viridian keeps telling us to do: build out mental schema and form connections with related material.¡±

    This comment surprised Mirian. She¡¯d always thought of Nicolus as the type who only half-listened in class, who had better things to do than really engage with the material. She got out the notebook.

    ¡°Hm,¡± Sire Nurea said. ¡°This is very good work. She even listened to her instructors about handwriting.¡±

    Nicolus laughed at that. ¡°Ah, but if no one can read my handwriting, my enemies can¡¯t spy on me!¡±

    Sire Nurea, it turned out, had already prepared a hundred notecards with all the various chemicals, magichemicals, precursors, and alchemical devices on them, and their task was to build in all the connections. Mirian¡¯s contribution was to draw nice little pictures on as many of them as she could, as well as remind Nicolus of the various energy equations that he apparently had no head for at all.

    ¡°Math,¡± he bemoaned. ¡°I¡¯d rather speak ancient Lorcadian!¡±

    Then, Nurea had prepared a practice exam for them.

    ¡°Where did you get this?¡± Mirian said, impressed at how much the questions sounded like the stuff Professor Seneca liked to ask.

    ¡°Archives. Each professor is required to keep a copy of past exams for families and politicians to review upon request. You have to fill out a form, pay a three silver fee, wait a week, and then they can look at it. Nurea here counts as family, so she can do that. She can¡¯t make copies, but she can memorize the kinds of questions and come up with a reasonable facsimile.¡±

    Then and there, Mirian had a revelation.

    ¡°That¡¯s bullshit!¡± she said. ¡°That just means¨C¡±

    ¡°That people with more money, time, and connections have an unfair advantage? Yup. Welcome to the way the world works,¡± Nicolus said.

    This also surprised Mirian, who didn¡¯t expect Nicolus to just say it. She¡¯d talked to wealthier students before, and they almost always got mad at the mere implication that they might have any sort of advantage from their wealth. It always grated on Mirian¡¯s nerves. Remembering her manners, though, she said, ¡°Well thank you, then, for inviting me.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± he said. ¡°No problem.¡±

    They went through the questions, discussing what they thought was the answer, then checking their notes while Nurea supervised.

    Nicolus even had dinner scheduled for delivery: Roast duck and a vegetable medley coated in a spiced honey glaze. Mirian, having only had a light lunch and lighter breakfast, was famished, and devoured hers in record time, only slightly embarrassed by her lack of fine dining etiquette. Nicolus munched on his casually, paging through the notecards as he did, staining several with sauce. This horrified both Mirian and Nurea.

    After three hours, they were both spent.

    ¡°So what brings you to the Academy?¡± Nicolus asked, while Sire Nurea cleaned up the notecards and sorted the practice exams and documents into her briefcase. The same man that had delivered the food arrived to take all the dishes away.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Artifice. It¡¯s the best paying job, and my family needs the money.¡± After three hours with him, Mirian had decided Nicolus respected honesty.

    ¡°It¡¯s changing the world,¡± he said. ¡°My family didn¡¯t see it until it was too late. By then, others had snapped up the fossilized myrvite deposits and invested in the spellforge factories. Get in with the big families. The Palamas, the Bardas, or any of these new joint-stock companies. It¡¯s where the power is.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s all a bit beyond me,¡± she said.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°You should look into it. The spell engines these factories are making¨Cit¡¯s going to change everything. Production. How wars are fought. How we live. And whoever owns those factories or the key resources has the power to shape what the world looks like next.¡±

    Mirian caught Nurea giving Nicolus a raised eyebrow.

    ¡°Anyways, it¡¯s late and I¡¯m tired. Good luck on the Alchemistry exam tomorrow,¡± he said, standing. ¡°Though¨Chey. If we end up having classes in common next quarter, I¡¯m extending the same study invitation. You game?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± she said. ¡°And thank you again.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± he said, still casual. ¡°Nurea will check the registrar''s office and get in touch with you. Otherwise¨Cgood luck.¡±

    ¡°You too.¡±

    And then Nicolus and Nurea were gone, chatting easily.

    Mirian grabbed her cloak, notebook, and satchel, and headed back to the dorms. By now, the sun was down, but the tall lamp-posts that lined the streets and path up to the dorms were glowing with warm light spells. Above, the clouds had finally cleared up, so the two moons were shining. The larger moon, Luamin, was in its third quarter, so as she walked, it was high above her. The second moon, Divir, never moved. It was eternally locked in place over Enteria, so it always hovered in place above the horizon. In the day, it was too small and faint to see, but at night, it shone like an exceptionally large and bright star.

    As she walked, she thought of her conversation with Nicolus. He wasn¡¯t at all like she had imagined. She wanted to resent him for having all the things she didn¡¯t, but his honesty made that hard. Instead, Mirian thought about their difference in perspective. All her life, she had thought about surviving, about just getting enough. His perspective was all about seizing power.

    It was interesting, but it all seemed unnecessarily stressful to Mirian. She would be happy just working in an artificer¡¯s shop making things, knowing she could always have enough money for the comforts of life.

    Or would she?

    The injustices of the world had always bothered her. Her parents had worked hard all their lives¨Cwhy were they so poor? Why were healers so expensive, when it cost them so little to cure most ailments? Why was stuff getting more expensive year after year if there was more stuff coming out of the factories? She¡¯d had economics in preparatory school, but what she vaguely knew about supply and demand was that more stuff should mean things were cheaper. Right?

    So maybe the world needed to change. And if not her, who?

    She also thought about how attractive Nicolus was. Her imagination was just starting to think about what she would have done if he¡¯d brushed her hand when she heard someone calling her name.

    ¡°Mirian!¡±

    ¡°Oh. Lily! Good to see you. How was your day?¡±

    ¡°Not great. My Applied Spellcasting exam was a nightmare. Oh, and the housing people told me to talk to maintenance, and the maintenance people said they didn¡¯t have anyone to spare. For a hole in the roof! They said ¡®maybe by the end of the week.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Oh, shit,¡± Mirian said. She¡¯d totally forgotten about that. And it had been raining all day. ¡°Have you¡­?¡± But of course she hadn¡¯t, she¡¯d had exams and classes all day too.

    Sure enough, the tin container she¡¯d set on her bed had overflowed and soaked her bed.

    ¡°I¡¯m an idiot,¡± she said.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been busy,¡± Lily said. ¡°But, yes.¡±

    Mirian found some of the extra clay she¡¯d used to make the cube. It hadn¡¯t been fired in the kiln, so it was still soft. She smushed it into the hole. It was definitely not a long term solution, but it would keep the water off her while she slept. Then, while Mirian took the sheets off to wring most of the water out then set it by the heater, Lily got out her spellbook and had the great honor of getting to practice her heat water spell, targeting the mattress. She did this over and over, until her mana was mostly spent. Then, Mirian took over.

    It was the same basic procedure as writing glyphs. The spine of the book was made of the spell-organ of a manticore alloyed in silver. This was one of the more effective arcane catalysts. By holding the book in one hand with the spine on her palm, she could easily access the arcane catalyst. Then, her other hand¡¯s fingers hovered over the glyphs of the spell she wanted to cast. Each spell required carefully channeling the mana through the glyphs so that it followed them in sequence, then was released when complete. Heat water was one of the most basic spells, and only needed three glyphs: Mana to heat, target water, target area. It was basic enough that even a mediocre caster like Mirian could heat water as a raw spell (that was, without glyphs, using just an arcane catalyst), but that was horribly inefficient. Also, it could easily start a fire.

    Mirian and Lily talked after that, not about anything in particular, but about classes and life. Lily¡¯s older sister had gotten injured when her expedition in the Labyrinth was attacked by a new type of chimera, but thankfully, they¡¯d been able to fight it off and retreat back to a safer level. No one knew where the elaborate network of tunnels that ran beneath the surface of Enteria came from, but a lucky strike in an unexplored area could return with an ancient relic or lost technology and set the group for life. Most of the time, though, it was just fighting a bunch of myrvite monsters because the tunnel system was also an ecosystem, fueled by arcane energy and thermal vents. As a consolation prize, expeditions could sell the magical organs they recovered. Mirian loved listening to stories of adventures down there, but had also decided it was too dangerous for her taste.

    Mirian decided against mentioning the cloaked figures, or Nicolus. It would just lead to too many questions, and she was tired; she resolved to tell Lily later. Instead she talked about the disaster in Enchantments, while her roommate nodded along sympathetically.

    By then, it was late, and they both had to get up early the next morning. Mirian made her bed, which was mostly dry, and fell asleep.

    Mirian dreamt.

    She found herself rushing through the Labyrinth, and though she¡¯d never seen the Labyrinth, the one she found herself flying through seemed real enough. Old runic lamps and glowing fungi dotted the dark passages. Here and there, a monster stalked the halls, sniffing for the magical mushrooms it ate. Old hieroglyphs stood in relief, somehow having resisted thousands of years of erosion. She passed a vent, where alien-looking tubes and arthropods clung by the opening where hot gasses erupted.

    Then she found herself flying up, further and further. Enteria opened up below her, and from high up, she could see where humans had cut away the vast forests or replaced the wild fields with farms. It was beautiful, but for some reason, she felt a sense of building dread. A chill began to spread in her bones.

    She found herself standing in a great temple, the vaulted ceiling as high as the Torrian Tower was. From that ceiling were vast columns that shone white as bone, twisted like stalactites, but each one shimmering with elaborate carvings that shifted as she looked at them. It was like the stalactite was spinning, but each rotation brought into view a new surface that hadn¡¯t been there a moment ago. When she looked, the whole room was like that. As she moved forward, the walls shifted and turned. Cavernous alcoves and shrines appeared and disappeared, the statues within them depicting many-tentacled beasts with far too many eyes. The latticework of the walls moved about, and Mirian found herself disoriented, and afraid. Something was wrong here.

    The one thing that stayed was the centerpiece of the room. In the center of the vast temple was a throne the size of a mansion. The throne was all black marble, with tens of thousands of tiny crystals scattered haphazardly among the white veins of the marble, glistening. Atop the throne sat a humanoid figure, but large enough to fit comfortably on the colossal structure. It was nothing like a human, though. In place of flesh, it had wings and eyes, though those eyes sat unblinking, crusted over with thick crystals. Strange tendrils that looked like the bodies of tropical snakes coursed through this maze of eyes and wings, and here and there, maws of teeth were frozen open, though none of the teeth seemed to be from the same creature. The figure wore a great sheet of metal and stone so that it seemed it was wearing a cliff as a toga.

    In its not-flesh, fifty sword-like needles had stabbed it, and lay embedded. The blades were stuck in a line along its arms and shoulders, and where it had been impaled, black ichor still bubbled.

    Then, it began to speak.

    All the mouths within its flesh opened and closed, and from them emanated a great booming, echoing cacophony that filled the chamber. It was like a thunderstorm had erupted inside the temple, like a hundred voices were screaming at her, like someone was whispering in her ear only none of the sounds made any sense. Instead, she saw pictures flash before her eyes, but it was too fast, like someone flipping a book¡¯s pages so that it was apparent there was text, but not what was on it. Her head felt like it was splitting open, and another scream erupted in the great chamber.

    It was her, she realized. She was screaming.

 Chapter 5 - Nightmare

    She awoke to Lily shaking her, saying ¡°wake up! Wake up!¡±

    Mirian clutched her chest, hand trembling.

    ¡°Gods above,¡± Lily said, shaking slightly herself. ¡°I hope the whole dorm didn¡¯t hear that.¡±

    ¡°Huh?¡± Mirian said intelligently.

    ¡°The screaming. You were screaming. You were screaming really loud.¡±

    Mirian blinked. ¡°Oh. Shit. Sorry. I¡­ was having a bad dream.¡± As she said it, though, she was thinking, I¡¯ve never had a dream like that before. Usually, she forgot her dreams. If she didn¡¯t, they were really generic, like getting chased through the woods by a bog lion, or forgetting she had a presentation in class. The only time she¡¯d had nightmares, like, real nightmares was when she was really little.

    ¡°Well, I guess. I damn near had a heart attack. Please don¡¯t have any more dreams like that.¡±

    Not that it was something she could control, but she said, ¡°I won¡¯t. Jeez. Really sorry.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Well, I¡¯m going back to sleep.¡±

    It was still only four o¡¯clock. ¡°Yeah, me too,¡± said Mirian, but then she just lay there, and when it became clear there was no way she was going to be able to go back to sleep, she got up, dressed, and left.

    Mirian ate breakfast in one of the dorm¡¯s common rooms, paging through her notebook, checking to see how well she¡¯d memorized the truly ludicrous number of magichemicals and categories. The study session had helped a lot.

    She sat there for awhile, appreciating the quiet of the morning. When a gaggle of second and third years came in, she left, heading out early to her class.

    The Alchemistry exam was ten pages, and as students flipped through them, a collective despair began to make itself feel present in the class. As Professor Seneca patrolled the aisles, the growing worried expression on her face dealt another blow to the class¡¯s morale. Mirian kept her head down and stayed focused.

    After the Alchemistry exam, she felt like she¡¯d hiked a mountain. She had absolutely no idea how well she¡¯d done, only that she never wanted to label or draw another magichemical diagram again. However, true to what Nicolus had said, the questions they¡¯d studied had been a lot like the ones on the test. After the exam, though, three other girls surrounded him to talk about something, so she didn¡¯t check in with him. No sense getting involved in whatever that was about.

    In Myrvite Ecology, Professor Viridian had a more recognizable plant. ¡°Jelly Bell,¡± he said, smiling to the class. This plant didn¡¯t warrant the warded pot or the gauntlet. Jelly Bell was aptly named: It looked like a jellyfish grew a stem. Inside the transparent bell were a cluster of blue-green leaves. The draping tendrils looked spiky, but were actually soft, and Viridian demonstrated that by running his hand over them. As he did, the plant glittered. ¡°Harmless to touch, harmless to harvest. The plant is impossibly bitter, and a powerful laxative, but unless you need to defecate very badly, I wouldn¡¯t recommend eating it. It looks like tiny dew drops form on the leaves inside the bell, but it¡¯s actually hydromyrite phosphorus, 31-A. Again, very useful in¡­?¡±

    Valen seemed to be the only person who ever answered questions in class. ¡°Common glyphs,¡± she said when she was called on.

    ¡°And?¡±

    ¡°Water-based elixirs.¡±

    ¡°Very good,¡± he said, beaming. ¡°Now today, we¡¯re going to learn why if you plant Jelly Bell in your garden, it will simply die.¡± This involved writing down a few magichemicals, but mostly, it became clear that Jelly Bell, along with a great number of magical plants, depended very much on fungi that lived in the soil, and those fungi, in turn, were very particular about what kind of soil they could grow in. It also seemed to only grow directly above the Labyrinth. It didn¡¯t seem to matter how far down the Labyrinth was, as long as it was below. This potted sample was apparently one of five samples that had been successfully grown in a greenhouse.

    ¡°The complex ecology required for so many myrvite species is invisible to us, yet totally critical to their survival,¡± the professor said. ¡°This in turn explains why so many magichemicals can only be obtained by expeditions into the wilderness, or the Labyrinth. And yet, because we cannot synthesize these chemicals in any laboratory, they are our only source of these critical resources. A strong argument for preservation and care. In the short term, it¡¯s more profitable to cut apart the forest and sell the pieces. But that makes long term profits impossible. The clever arcanist finds a way to protect the source of all their spells, and thinks to the future.¡±

    Professor Viridian was apparently nostalgic for another era, Mirian thought. Two hundred years ago, the world was still wild and untamed all over. Cities and farms only survived behind walls and armed patrols, and any travel was inherently dangerous, as chimeras, drakes, and other myrvite predators often attacked caravans. These days, thanks to spell engines powering wards and helping clear cut wild areas, travelers could move between the major cities without risk of dying, even if they didn¡¯t take one of the magitech trains.

    Artifice Design was just more presentations, but the only thing Mirian bothered to take notes on was Professor Torres¡¯s critiques. Several of her peers had spent upwards of 10 drachm¡ªhalf of her monthly rent!¡ªon their simple devices and still managed to make sub-par junk.

    Arcane Mathematics wrapped up its final lesson. The exam would be after the weekend. Then, after the last exams and practicals, there would be a week of rest before the second quarter started. Mirian had already planned what classes she would take, and from whom. Sadly, Professor Jei was not teaching anything else. ¡°Busy with project,¡± was all she¡¯d say. Mirian thanked her for her wonderful teaching at the end of the lesson, and almost thought she saw Professor Jei smile¡ªbut no, she never did that.

    Then it was Fifthday night, and all that lay before was the weekend.

    Mirian went straight back to her dorm.

    ¡°Duels?¡± Lily asked her.

    ¡°Duels,¡± Mirian said, smiling. She changed into her duelist¡¯s uniform, complete with the poofy pantaloons and fencing jacket. For Mirian, these possessions ranked just under her notebook and scribe¡¯s pen as her most valued things. They were nice¡ªfar nicer than she could afford. The woven jacket had a layer of drake scales at the shoulders and chest, and the dueling gloves were wyvern leather, dyed black on the outside but with bright red palms. She¡¯d won them as a prize in her preparatory school for finishing first in the region¡¯s youth duelist tournament. ¡°You want to come?¡±

    Lily looked at the stacks of notes and books at her desk with tired disgust. ¡°Yeah, hell, why not.¡±

    There was nothing Mirian liked to do more on a Fifthday. Rapier dueling was a time-honored tradition for arcanists of every time, though the tradition was slowly withering as guns and spell engines made the sword a useless relic for anything practical. Torrviol Academy was one of the few institutions that still required it, though even they only required it for students looking to graduate as battlemages or combat sorcerers.

    However, they strongly encouraged dueling, eximontar riding, and racing, and students obtained another honorific seal on their degree if they regularly entered into those events. A great deal of that was reputation. For a long time, Torrviol had produced not just arcanists, but well rounded and physically fit magic users who were the mainstay of the Baracuel armies. Graduating from Torrviol had usually meant being fast tracked in the officer corps.

    These days, it still was an important part of their reputation, but the relevance was slowly fading. Still, Mirian loved it. For that time, she could forget all the pressure on her to perform, forget all the things she was supposed to do, and just fight.

    They walked together toward the Stygalta Arena. This was a stadium built much like the ancient arenas, with towering brick walls encased in marble and huge pillars and arches. The capitals atop the columns were that of the stygala owl, a predatory looking bird with four wings and narrow eyes. The feathers evoked the same feeling as knives. Mirian had no idea why the stadium was named after that particular myrvite, but the theme of twisted feathers and blades stirred something in her.

    The center of the arena was closed. It only opened during tournaments. On the outer ring, students were riding eximontar, those skeletal six-legged horse-like beasts that were so synonymous with Baracuel and magi. It was one of the few myrvites that could be domesticated and trained. Mana from the rider could be used to direct them, hence the connection to arcanists. Mirian had wanted one badly as a young girl, but had finally accepted that borrowing one from the academy was good enough. They were expensive to feed, since they only ate magical plants.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    On the outside of the arena on the ground level, beneath the stands, the academy had made dozens of small rooms where students could train in dueling or fitness.

    Mirian went to the quicksilver room where the highest rated combatants trained. She recognized Platus, one of the boys in her enchantments class who she¡¯d also known back in her preparatory school. She was always amazed that he advanced each year, though she supposed ¡®combat sorcerer¡¯ needed a lot less brains than the usual degrees. He had a body more fit for two-handed swords, but no one used those here.

    She also recognized Liamar, by reputation the best swordsman in Torrviol, and that included the instructors. He was lithe and tall, his pale skin a sure sign that he came from the far north of Baracuel. It was rare to see him in the arena training rooms. Usually, he worked with his coach in a more private setting. Mirian hoped she would get to fight him today.

    Warm-ups were ad hoc. There were ten circular areas to duel in. Mirian chose one, and found a stranger to bout with, while Lily took a seat to watch. Her roommate struck up a conversation with another group of students observing from the side, though Mirian couldn¡¯t hear it. She practiced her parries and footwork. The dueling swords they used were heavily enchanted so that they were stopped the moment they would pierce flesh, and instead, a rotating red cylinder of glowing symbols by the tip announced a hit. That was one point. If the momentum wasn¡¯t slowed sufficiently enough, or it only needed to be deflected, yellow light surrounded the blade, announcing a glancing blow, which only counted for a quarter of a point.

    The first to five points won.

    There was one other way to win: a direct strike that would otherwise pierce the heart or head encased the entire blade in a red field, signaling a killing blow. That was worth five points all by itself.

    A director of athletics pulled duels by lot. A chalkboard listed a name and number for each of the participants, with tally-marks for each victory. ¡°Five and seven,¡± the director called.

    Miran made a face. She was five. Seven, she had just seen, was Valen. Valen smiled when she saw her, that haughty smirk that said, I¡¯m better than you, and I know it. Gods Mirian hated that smirk.

    Valen was four inches shorter than Mirian, which meant Mirian had the advantage in reach, but Valen was fast. Mirian tried to get in with a quick lunge, but Valen easily parried the attack then sent Mirian wheeling backward as she got under her guard. Mirian recovered, but then Valen gave a convincing feint that Mirian tried to parry, only to find her opponent¡¯s blade planted firmly above her heart, glowing red.

    ¡°Bout,¡± the judge said, and Valen gave Mirian a head tilt and another condescending smile.

    Mirian clenched her jaw and shook hands, then walked away.

    ¡°Ouch,¡± said Lily. ¡°Bad luck I guess.¡±

    She didn¡¯t really want the comment, she just wanted to rage, but she said, ¡°Yeah, I guess,¡± and held it in.

    ¡°What¡¯s with you two anyways? You always look like you¡¯re a moment away from scratching each other¡¯s faces off.¡±

    So it¡¯s that obvious, is it? ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Mirian said. ¡°We had a group project together in our second year, and she just insulted me at every turn. Then it felt like she was following me around, just looking to start a fight. She started rumors, then denied it to my face. It doesn¡¯t matter how much I avoid her, she finds me.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± Lily said. ¡°Have you tried talking to her about it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian muttered.

    ¡°What about the Academy?¡±

    ¡°It would just be one testimony against another. It¡¯s not like I have any evidence.¡± She sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s talk about something else. Anything else.¡±

    ¡°Alchemistry. I¡¯m taking it next quarter¡ª¡±

    ¡°Anything but that. What else are you taking?¡±

    ¡°Advanced Spell Empowerment, if I can get in. There¡¯s some strict entry requirements. I have to do a special spellcasting demonstration in front of a panel of professors next Thirdday.¡±

    That made sense. Empowering a spell meant having a strong mastery of that spell, and a good understanding of your own mana capabilities. It was dangerous otherwise. Hell, with certain empowerments, it was dangerous even with mastery of the spell.

    ¡°What about you?¡± Lily asked.

    Mirian was only half paying attention. Liamar¡¯s first bout had just started, and Mirian was watching his footwork. He always stayed just out of reach, but was constantly testing the opponent with aggressive moments until one of them suddenly became the attack¡ªand then it was over. His lunge was so fast he didn¡¯t even need to feint, it just hit his opponent in the face before they could parry or retreat. ¡°Sorry, what? Right, classes. Uh, Alchemical Industry. It talks about everything from mana refineries to spell engines to the myric tech they power. And more artifice, of course.¡±

    Then her number was called again, and Mirian made her way to her dueling circle.

    This bout was more her style. They clashed several times, then Mirian started an aggressive series of attacks that pressed her opponent hard until they were forced out of the circle, awarding her a point. Then she did it again, except this time her opponent was so focused on making sure he didn¡¯t retreat out of the circle again that she was able to slip by his guard and land a second hit. He changed tactics, trying to go on the offensive himself, but she moved out of his range, then parried and landed the riposte on his collar, just an inch too high to be considered lethal.

    The last two points she got through glancing blows, which didn¡¯t reset the bout, so she just kept accumulating quarter points by pressing him hard with flurries of attacks.

    ¡°Bout,¡± the judge called, and Mirian gave a respectful bow. Not a smirk, Valen, she thought.

    ¡°Nice,¡± Lily said when she sat down again.

    ¡°That¡¯s how those usually go,¡± Mirian said, with no small amount of satisfaction in her voice.

    ¡°Selesia here was admiring your form,¡± Lily said, gesturing to the girl next to her. Selesia was a fourth year student wearing the bronze tassels, and uniform of dark and light grays.

    Selesia blushed and said in a thick accent, ¡°That¡¯s not how I phrased it,¡± but Lily just laughed.

    ¡°So what brings you here?¡± Mirian said, ignoring her roommate.

    ¡°Oh, you know. Something to do on a Fifthday. I just like watching.¡±

    For some reason, Lily found that even funnier.

    Selesia, it turned out, regularly came to these events, but knew very little about them. She had transferred from one of the academies in Akana Praediar, hence her accent and unfamiliarity with the sport. Mirian was more than happy to explain. ¡°The footwork is the most important part,¡± she said. ¡°Watch Liamar there, for example. He always moves so he¡¯s just out of range of his opponent. If the blade just barely misses, he doesn¡¯t even have to bother parrying, and it¡¯s easier to see your opponent¡¯s body moving than figuring out whatever they¡¯re going to do with their wrist and the blade.¡±

    They went back and forth, then Liamar¡¯s opponent overextended, trying to get that last bit of extra range. Liamar used a circle parry to drag her blade out of position, then gave a lightning riposte.

    ¡°If you want to watch a master at work, Liamar¡¯s the best I¡¯ve ever seen. He might be the best in Baracuel,¡± Mirian said.

    They spent the rest of the evening there, with Mirian alternating between chatting and bouting. She lost to Liamar handily, but got two quarter points, which she considered an overwhelming victory on her part. Selesia was interesting to talk to, because despite Akana Praediar¡¯s importance in the modern era, Mirian knew only a little about it. She knew that it had been colonized by various peoples from Baracuel, and she knew it was now an industrial center where most spell engines were made, but not a lot more.

    When Mirian ended her third bout, Selesia was explaining the basics to Lily: ¡°It was like Baracuel, five hundred years ago. It was dozens of different kingdoms and republics, all constantly trading, warring, forming alliances, gaining and ceding territory. It never unified, though, that was its downfall. The Baracuel colonists that crossed the Rift Sea were ideologically committed to conquest. The nation of Akana Praediar emerged from them, and the other nations there fell, one by one. Now, there are only a few left, and they¡¯re only partially sovereign. It¡¯s¡­ well, it¡¯s a bit complicated. I¡¯m both a citizen of Akana Praediar, and of the Takoa Republic, which is only semi-autonomous.¡±

    It all went past Mirian. She was thinking of her last bout. She¡¯d won, but it had been close. Talk of politics and history were always a bit beyond her. The only reason she could point to Akana Praediar on a map was because it was its own continent, and the only reason she could point to Baracuel on a map was she lived here.

    ¡°What brought you here?¡± Mirian asked. ¡°I thought the academies in Akana Praediar were better than the schools here. All the richest students sail off to learn there now because they¡¯re so much more prestigious.¡±

    ¡°Well. They wouldn¡¯t take someone like me,¡± Selesia said, the scorn clear in her voice.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Mirian said. She knew exactly what Selesia was talking about, too. Prejudice was everywhere in Baracuel, too. For all her life, Mirian could remember people taunting her or excluding her because they thought she was from Persama. The stupid thing was, she wasn¡¯t even from Persama, she just had slightly darker skin than the average Baracueli. Sometimes people got nicer when she told them that, but why did they even judge people on their looks in the first place?

    After Mirian¡¯s last bout, Mirian packed her dueling jacket into her bag and put on the usual jacket, then the three of them went off to one of the Torrviol diners. Part of their tuition covered one free meal a day, and Mirian almost always made hers dinner.

    Selesia was still nattering on about history: ¡°¡­and the founders knew that to really accumulate expertise, they had to ensure the students were focused on nothing but their studies, so they banned alcohol and gambling, but provided free meals to each student. Back then, that was a commitment, because Torrviol was on the border wilds, so the farms were constantly being attacked by myrvites¡­.¡±

    The dining hall itself was, like a lot of the buildings, at least six hundred years old. The pillars holding up the roof were genuine marble, and the ceilings ornately carved wood, though the bright colors on it had faded to almost nothing through the years. By the kitchens, the ceiling was a sooty black from all the smoke that had missed the chimneys and wafted into the rafters. Now, the kitchens were outfitted with simple spell engine stoves that were smokeless. Today, the room wafted with the scent of boiling fish and sizzling baduka boar. It was always crowded around dinner time, though by now it was late enough the students packing the place had thinned out to a reasonable number. For another hour, they ate and chatted about classes and life.

    They walked back to the dorms together, parting when they got to the place in the road where it split off to the different buildings. Selesia said her goodbyes, and Lily and Mirian headed back to their place.

    ¡°She was nice,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°I think she likes you,¡± Lily said.

    Mirian blinked. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just saying.¡± Then, seeing Mirian¡¯s expression, she laughed. ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d noticed.¡±

    ¡°What are you even talking about?¡± Mirian said. ¡°We were just talking!¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t see how she was looking at you?¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡± Mirian was flustered. She¡¯d dated someone in preparatory school, so she wasn¡¯t totally oblivious to how that sort of thing worked just¡­ well, she was pretty oblivious. But it couldn¡¯t have been that obvious, right?

    ¡°Well,¡± Lily began, but then as they opened the door to their room, she stopped.

    The clay stopper Mirian had fashioned had eroded, and now, in addition to the bed being soaked, the sheets had a slick sheen of clay on them and the ceiling was sagging where the plaster had been drenched. ¡°Oh for the Gods¡¯ sake!¡± she cried out.

 Chapter 6 - What A Mess

    There was a lot to be done after that, but doing it all did little. Housing services was closed, maintenance was closed, and none of the custodians could be found. The sheets needed to be washed to get the clay and plaster out, and not just by a machine, so Mirian set those aside.

    The curses of ¡°where the hell is this water even coming from?¡± ended up being answered by an exploration of the third floor: The empty room directly above was part of the building''s utilities, and the strange hole had sliced through a small copper pipe leading to the water heater. A small stream of water had been hissing out of it the whole time.

    Her next rant was along the lines of: ¡°I have repair page, repair cloth, repair pen, but nothing on pipes or ceilings. Why don¡¯t I have a repair spell on pipes or ceilings? What the hell even does that to a building?¡± It was late, and she was tired; it was not her best rant, but the frustration had her muttering to herself. The bed was hopeless; there was no way she was going to sleep on it, and a second round of trying to find a custodian or someone to help fix it led nowhere. Lily didn¡¯t have any spells that were relevant either, so they put the tin container up on the third floor to block the hole there and wrapped the pipe in cloth, though that only made the water drip onto the floor slower, and it was still managing to get under the tin.

    By then, the crisis had attracted five more students in the dorms, but no one seemed to have anything useful for plugging leaks. It was all a bit ridiculous. It wasn¡¯t like they needed specialized tools or silver. Tar, caulk, and a bit of hemp cloth could do the trick, but there was none to be found.

    Mirian stormed off to the library. ¡°I¡¯ll be back when I can find a repair,¡± she said.

    The guard at the main door of Bainrose listened to her explanation¡ªmore of a yelling session¡ªfor about five minutes, then opened the door, probably more to shut her up than anything. The library was one of the few buildings always open to students anyways, though usually it was for studying, rather than maintenance. The librarian was, of course, absent, because why would things be easy? Mirian knew the library¡¯s classification system for spells, so she went off to find it herself.

    This was no easy task. All the spells and research texts needed for a given class were brought to the first and second floors so students had easy access. All the other books were in the first and second basement levels. The basements had originally been catacombs, actually built before Bainrose Castle, and though a great deal of digging and refurbishment had been done (as well as moving all the old skeletons, with priests overseeing the transfer), the place was still an absolute maze, even with all the signs.

    One would have thought that a simple fire spell could harden the clay she had, but with the surrounding plaster damaged, the author warned the water would just seep around. So it was on to the next book.

    Practical Spellology 2 had a simple repair metal spell, but it required a specific kind of ink for the glyph she would need. All glyphs were made using the powdered spell organ of some sort of myrvite, and the school sold these inks in bulk to the students so they could practice making the glyphs they needed for each spell. The problem was, even though she had dozens of specialized inks for glyphs, this specific ink she didn¡¯t have, and the Academy Supply Shop wouldn¡¯t open until Firstday. She wasn¡¯t waiting two more days for that nonsense.

    The spell organ she needed was baduka boar tusk (hadn¡¯t she just eaten baduka boar for dinner?), and then she would need a bit of copper. The copper she had, only it was in thin wire. Could she wrap up the broken pipe and then melt it a bit?

    She went searching for a melt metal spell.

    Paging through Flexible Spellbook Composition for the Practical Mage, she found an interesting section that caught her attention. Most of the time, when you wrote a spell in a spellbook, you put the glyphs in the exact order you wanted to use them in to cast the spell. This prevented a lot of terrible accidents. This author recommended creating an array of commonly used glyphs, and depending on the order used, one page could contain dozens of spells, rather than just a few simple ones or one complex spell.

    As she was reading though, the exhaustion of the day hit her. She told herself she¡¯d just close her eyes for a moment.

    ***

    When she awoke, it was dark. The lights in the basement levels were dimmed for night, and the spell-candle she¡¯d been using had gone out, the tiny lantern spell long expired. The book she¡¯d been reading lay in her hands, still open.

    First she thought, what time is it? Then she thought, Gods, what year is it? It was one of those kind of naps. Then she thought, what¡¯s that noise?

    There was a scuffling sound, nearly inaudible. Was that what had woken her?

    A shadow passed in front of one of the lights as something moved between the shelves. Still groggy, Mirian started to move to rub the sleep from her eyes, then froze. She¡¯d expected another student, or maybe the guard out front who was wondering why it had taken her Gods knew how many hours to find a book on repairing pipes.

    It was not. The figure was dressed in all black, a deep cowl covering their face. When they walked, their soft boots were silent, but then they would hit a part of the uneven floor and make the slightest sound.

    Another damned cloaked figure.

    Or the same one?

    Fear gripped her first, and she wanted to sink into the chair. Then, she realized that with her spell-candle out, there was little light shining on her. By a trick of the angles, she was wrapped in shadow, and whoever was approaching didn¡¯t see her.

    When she was very young, Mirian had been startled by a sparrow. The bird had suddenly been within inches of her, tweeting and flapping as it took off. Her mother had explained that the bird had been there the whole time, she just hadn¡¯t seen it because it was so still.

    Mirian was still. She held her breath as the figure approached her and didn¡¯t even blink. A thought occurred to her: What if the person was wearing goggles of night-sight? There were several expensive devices that did that. She thought about bolting.

    The stranger passed her. She waited until they were out of sight and had rounded the corner to start breathing again.

    Curiosity gripped her second. It was a damned curse, but something was going on, and she needed to get some sort of hint¡ªsome understanding¡ªof what.

    Silently, she rose, and put the book she was holding back on the shelf. That was basic courtesy. Then she tip-toed after the cloaked figure.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Before she rounded the shelf, she looked right around the corner. At first, she didn¡¯t see them, then the movement caught her eye again and she watched as their dark cloak ducked between two other shelves. She checked around to make sure there wasn¡¯t anyone else, then checked where the lights were. Instead of going between the shelves they had, she went one shelf over so that her silhouette wouldn¡¯t pass between the figure and the light. This may have been the dumbest thing she¡¯d ever done, but she wasn¡¯t going to be stupid about it.

    At the end of the shelf, she had to wait again before the movement caught her eye. The figure was heading toward a door she¡¯d never been down. She wasn¡¯t even sure she¡¯d seen the door before.

    A little voice in her head told her, go get the guard, get out, run, it¡¯s too dangerous, you¡¯ll get in trouble, but another part of her was resolute. And what good would getting the guard be anyways? The last one had basically ignored her.

    She hesitated at the door. It led down, obviously. But what was in the third basement level of the library? She had no idea.

    The figure apparently had found a key, because the glyph-lock was simply open. Just beyond the door were the top of the stairs. It was a long spiral staircase, but made of solid stone. She considered that the figure might be waiting for her at the bottom, but dismissed the thought and cautiously proceeded. Each step down sent her heart pounding, and the world became darker. For a time, she was in almost total darkness, just stepping down and down, wondering if there was an end, or if she¡¯d slipped into some strange arcane trap and was now walking an endless stair. Was that even possible? Her anxiety said yes, but her resolution said no.

    At last, a faint light showed the edge of the steps. Mirian reached the bottom, where a thick iron door had been wedged open by a book, bending the spine of the book. Whoever they were, they weren¡¯t a good person. Through the crack, she could see the room beyond.

    The third basement floor was nothing like the refurbished catacombs above. The construction was totally different, with huge vaulted ceilings, but not like the ones of Bainrose Castle above. The vaulting looked absolutely modern, with thin lines of shining steel lining the stone and panels of glyphs. Only, most of the glyphs were eroded. Only a few were illuminated with arcane energy.

    Beyond, there was a massive door, at least five stories tall, and made of solid stone. Mirian gaped at it. She¡¯d gone down a lot of steps, but she didn¡¯t realize just how many. How was something this colossal beneath Bainrose? The door was made of solid rock, which struck her as stupid. It had to be impossibly heavy. The entire thing was carved in swirling designs. It was as intricate as it was abstract; there were parts that looked like wings or eyes, and others that looked like monstrous faces had been melted like candle wax and dripped down. Other parts looked like creatures frozen in battle, but by some trick of the sinuous design, she couldn¡¯t tell what kind of creatures. It didn¡¯t look like the architecture of any of the civilizations.

    At the foot of the door was a spell engine, a big one the size of a carriage, though it looked minuscule next to that colossal door. Brass and steel pipes connected it to one of the glyph panels by the door. That was what the cloaked figure was studying. She could see it was a he, now, with pale skin and blond hair. Was he from north Baracuel? Or Akana Praediar? He was furiously writing in a notebook.

    The man stopped, then looked her way.

    Mirian froze, her heart pounding.

    Now she ran.

    She stumbled twice on the dark steps, then slowed, listening for the sound of pursuit. The iron door below creaked open, the hinges oiled, but the weight of the heavy door apparent. She froze, then quietly kept ascending, willing her feet to just be softer, because in the silence, she could just hear them. Was he running after her? Had he cast a spell of silence so she wouldn¡¯t hear?

    She quickened her pace, wincing at the subtle echoes ringing through the spiral stair. There was a noise below; now he definitely was pursuing, she could hear it.

    She made it to the top and dashed to one of the nearby stairs, a different one than the cloaked man had apparently come from. At the first floor, though, she froze. An idea wormed its way into her, and she seized it. She kept going, up one of the side towers to the second floor. She crept off to the side to a dark section, crouched down, and peered through banisters¡ªand waited.

    The waiting was intolerable, especially with all the adrenaline pumping through her, but she took deep breaths to slow her racing mind and watched.

    Finally, one of the first floor doors opened and a man walked out. She blinked. This man had dark brown hair¡ªbut it was the same cloak she¡¯d seen. It was the same man, she was sure of it, but he must have used some sort of illusion.

    He looked around, striding out in the open with total confidence. That got her heart pounding again, because Mirian knew then she was right. It was confirmed a moment later when the man moved past the night librarian and to the front door. He said something then, first to her, then to the guard. The wards and walls of Bainrose were designed to eat sound, so though she could hear that they were talking, the words were all unintelligible.

    If she had been able to hear them, it probably wouldn¡¯t have mattered. A deep chill ran through Mirian. What would have happened if she had told the guard? Would they be locking her up? Or worse?

    Something was going on in Torrviol Academy. But who could she tell? The guards were apparently in on it. The night librarian was in on it. Viridian hadn¡¯t believed her. Or was he in on it too?

    Hiding in the shadows, she felt paralyzed. What could she do? What the hell could she do?

    The problem was, the man wasn¡¯t leaving, and it wasn¡¯t like the entrance was going to get less guarded. There was also the problem that the guard had seen her come in, and she¡¯d left a definite impression. What if they recognized her later? She needed something that would make them dismiss her as a target.

    Well, there was another exit. She¡¯d heard rumors of students taking it in one of those endless quests young adults took to make their mark on the world.

    She headed toward the museum wing. It was on the third floor, and no one was around. The main exhibit was locked up, but the tower with the latrine was just off that¡ªand it wasn¡¯t. She walked up to the latrine, and opened the lid.

    Then she walked down to the first floor and strode through the main hall. The guard, cloaked man, and librarian were all waiting, and all watched her as she approached. She held her head high, and walked with a wild confidence she did not at all feel. When she was near, the cloaked man and the guard each took a step forward, but she said, ¡°You would not believe what just happened. There¡¯s another student¡ªshe must have been studying? Bit weird at this hour. She was hollering about being chased. Wouldn¡¯t talk to me at all, just kept saying she had to get out. I think she ran up to the museum wing? I was like, ¡®that¡¯s not the exit,¡¯ but she didn¡¯t listen. Weird, right?¡±

    The guard and the cloaked man stopped, and shared a glance.

    ¡°Anyways, I think I found a solution to my problem. Have a good night!¡± And she walked by them, heart hammering.

    They didn¡¯t follow. The cloaked man said something and walked toward the museum wing. With any luck, they¡¯d see the open latrine and think this mysterious student they were hunting, a mysterious student who, importantly, was not her, had climbed down the narrow passage. People had climbed up them in old sieges, and that was before they¡¯d all been cleaned, so it was completely possible.

    She managed to make it across the empty courtyard and round the corner before she fell to the ground shaking. Her adrenaline was out of control, and for a minute, she had to just sit there and tremble. She breathed deeply, trying to control herself. Mirian hadn¡¯t felt this out of control for years¡ªsince she was a kid. What had gotten into her? And also¡ªwhat had she been thinking? What she¡¯d just done was insane!

    It took a minute longer to calm her breathing and to get her hands to stop shaking.

    As she walked in the dark toward the dorms, eyes darting side to side because she was still expecting¡ªwell she didn¡¯t know, but something¡ªMirian thought about what she was supposed to do about it all. The guards of a city were supposed to be trustworthy. Baracuel had higher powers, though. The Crown Bureau and the Arcane Praetorians both handled crimes and criminals that city guards couldn¡¯t. Then there was the Deeps. Well, it was actually called the Department of Public Security, but that was an annoying mouthful and everyone knew it was the spies and secret police of the government. It was full of the people who hid in the deep shadows, hence: Deeps.

    She had no idea how to contact any of them.

    She had no idea how to describe any of it without sounding like a lunatic.

    And what if the conspiracy went deeper than that? Maybe it was better to keep her head down.

    When she got back to her dorm, Lily was asleep. She changed into her nightclothes, then went to one of the common rooms to sleep in a chair, since her bed was still soaked.

    She didn¡¯t get much sleep.

 Chapter 7 - The Quarter Ends

    Mirian spent four hours of Sixthday, which was supposed to be a day off, harassing the staff at Housing, then another two hours in Maintenance. She could not begin to fathom why it was so hard to get them to send someone to deal with a broken pipe and a flooded room, but at last she got one of the workers to follow her out to the third floor. Immediately upon seeing the severed pipe and the sagging floorboards around the hole, he said, ¡°This is terrible! Why didn¡¯t someone come out sooner?¡±

    She wanted to scream, but instead she just smiled and said, ¡°Well, I did try to get them to.¡±

    The man squinted at the hole, first looking up where it had pierced the roof, then down where it had gone through three floors. ¡°What did this? I¡¯ve never seen a hole so clean. Did you cast a spell or something?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m flattered you think I have the capability. No, I was asleep when it happened.¡±

    ¡°Did something¡­ hit you?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said.

    ¡°Are you sure you didn¡¯t¡­ I mean, I¡¯ve heard of magi who cast a spell in their sleep. Maybe you had a nightmare and did it on accident?¡±

    Pure hogwash. Mirian had learned that was impossible in Arcane Foundations 101, and she told him as much. The man finally left to go organize a crew and materials. Maybe the artisan mage on the team could explain it to him.

    Her sheets were ruined. There was simply no getting the clay and plaster that had caked into them out, and a spell that could target and selectively move only the offending material was surprisingly difficult. That is, the cost of the ink she would need to write the glyphs to perform the spell, or the cost to hire a mage that could do it, would exceed the cost of new sheets. Parting with the silver at the bedding shop pained her, but it was a necessary expense.

    Then she hurried to the other shops for those other annoying things she needed like ¡°food¡± and ¡°school supplies.¡± She splurged on buying two small copper sheets, just in case whatever maintenance was doing didn¡¯t take, or another mysterious hole formed.

    In her errands, Mirian had also acquired baduka boar ink, so she spent the evening transcribing heat metal and form metal spells into her spellbook. Since her room was currently being occupied by three artisans, she did this in one of the common rooms, annoyed at the noisy students who kept disrupting her concentration. Mirian was glad at least the flooding hadn¡¯t damaged her spellbook or her notebook¡ªshe didn¡¯t know what she would have done if that had happened.

    She ate alone in the cafeteria, not at all in the mood to say anything to anyone. At night, she slept in one of the chairs in the common room again, and slept poorly.

    Seventhday, she studied. She still had her Myrvite Ecology and Arcane Mathematics finals next week, before the break started. Again, they were still doing construction in her room to replace the damaged ceiling, so she stayed in the commons. She couldn¡¯t bring herself to return to Bainrose Castle Library.

    After dinner, Mirian went off to the Luminate temple.

    The temple was another of the truly ancient structures, at least two thousand years old. It had been repaired, remodeled, and expanded dozens of times. It was placed where the edge of the Academy met the town of Torrviol proper, north of the Market Forum. The nearby Artificer¡¯s Tower was a bit taller than it, but the Temple had a certain presence to it that made it seem bigger than it was. It was hard to pinpoint which feature made it feel so different than even the other ancient buildings. Perhaps it was the huge pillars at the entrance and the colossal letters in old Cuelsin, unreadable but familiar. Or perhaps it was the dynamic reliefs of the Gods that emerged from the walls, that made it seem like the Gods might step from the stone itself at any moment. Perhaps it was the dark cavernous entrance, beyond which only candles flickered, so that when one entered it was as they stepped into a night with flickering fires for stars.

    The temple Mirian had gone to as a child had made her feel small too, though it had been nowhere near as grand. Her family had not been especially devout, but they had taught her the importance of visiting the Gods once every Seventhday. Everyone in Baracuel belonged to the Luminate Order. The priest gave his sermon about the benevolence of Ominian, but she only half-listened. It was much the same as other sermons she¡¯d heard. She left much the way she¡¯d come¡ªhead bowed, speaking to no one.

    ¡°You doing okay?¡± Lily said when the construction was finally done and they were both back in their dorm room.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Mirian. Lily gave her a look that said I know that¡¯s not true, but since it was clear Mirian didn¡¯t want to talk about it, she dropped it.

    Mirian lay down to sleep, but instead stared at the ceiling, thoughts still racing. She liked understanding things. What bothered her most about these strange infiltrators in the academy was that she didn¡¯t understand. What was this even all about?

    Her trust in authority was also being rapidly eroded. All her life, she¡¯d followed the rules and done what she was told. She had thought of city guards as protectors. Were they?

    She distracted herself by listing off myrvite species and interactions that would appear on her exam, refusing to think about the problem because she couldn¡¯t think of a solution and didn¡¯t want it to keep bothering her. Bog lion, habitat swamps, marshes, and nearby forests. Hunts mammals, especially baduka boar. Spell organ is the algae-like mane. Baduka boar, habitat swamps, marshes, forests. Likes thick underbrush. Tusks are spell organ, and have a special interaction with the metal iron that allows them to pass through it easily. Eats mushrooms and roots, especially likes magical mushrooms like golden cap. Chimeras. Actually a category of any infertile but magical animals that are a composite of traits¡­.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Eventually, she drifted off.

    She dreamed again of that strange throne with the colossal creature on it, except this time the huge needles that had pierced it were gone. The black ichor around the wounds had hardened, and now resembled obsidian. Now, the wounds leaked a violet vapor, the gas drifting in lazy wispy clouds. The room hummed with the deep vibrations of machinery, and on the walls, glyphs lit up, then dimmed. Some of the glyphs she recognized; others she had never seen. Unease gripped her as she stood in that room.

    The nails in Mirian¡¯s alarm candle clanked onto the metal sheet, and she woke with a groggy groan.

    ¡°Last two exams,¡± Lily said hopefully.

    ¡°Yeah. Good thing, too.¡± Again, she had not slept well.

    It was drizzling again, so Mirian appreciated the excuse to keep her cloak¡¯s hood on and her head down. Best to stay anonymous, she remembered her father saying.

    She hung her cloak and sat down in Myrvite Ecology without a word. Professor Viridian looked tired, and for once, he didn¡¯t have a neat plant to show off. Exam day, she supposed. He made a short speech about how much he enjoyed teaching them, though his heart didn¡¯t seem to be in it like it normally was, and then passed out the exam.

    The exam itself was interesting. The first few pages were questions about ecology diagrams and terms. Then, it posed a novel problem for them to solve: Local wyverns were harassing and killing local sheep and eximontar, much to the chagrin of the farmers and nobility. However, the magi in the area needed to preserve the wyvern population, as it was a crucial supply of wings for the local artificer¡¯s guild. How to proceed? That was the crux of it. He also listed a bunch of other information that at first seemed irrelevant, but was actually critical to the problem.

    The eximontar would need to graze in the nearby forest, or they wouldn¡¯t have the magical plants they needed to live. That, in turn, meant there was less food for various magical herbivores that the wyverns depended on, which was why they were flying into town to get easy prey there.

    There wasn¡¯t any one solution, as far as she could tell, just a bunch of compromises, some of which people might find tolerable, some of which would pick only the interests of one group to protect. Mirian tried to describe a plan of limited forest grazing, land use, and purchasing that was balanced enough, making sure to elaborate on the ecological connections.

    Then, it was off to Arcane Mathematics.

    Professor Jei only stayed for a moment, then handed the class off to two proctors who distributed the exam. The way she hurried out of the classroom made Mirian think she must be busy indeed with whatever special project she was working on. Again, she wondered what it was.

    The ecology exam had been easy to engage with; this one was a struggle. Mirian liked mathematics, but poor sleep required her to reread each question, and several times she found herself getting answers that were at least a magnitude off of what they should be. It was time consuming to go back through, and each question only got harder. By page four, she was beginning to suspect that they hadn¡¯t even covered some of the required material, and the single problem on page five had her staring and blinking while she tried to figure out how to even begin. She had thought she knew the material at least decently, but now she wasn¡¯t so sure.

    She kept working until the bell tower chimed out the hour. Her only solace was that everyone else in the class was working too. In the back, someone was softly sobbing. Mirian sympathized as she handed her test in.

    Usually, there was a sense of relief when the quarter was over, but Mirian just felt useless, like she¡¯d worked all the time and wasn¡¯t even sure if anything had resulted from it. At least she didn¡¯t need this specific class to graduate, but it would impact the accolades she received.

    Exhausted, she headed back to her dorm.

    ***

    With all her exams done, Mirian was able to take Secondday to recuperate, then Thirdday was registration for the next quarter and the official start of a break. She wrote a letter to her mother and father, and included one of the drawings her little brother liked so much. This one was of the Artificer¡¯s Tower. It wouldn¡¯t arrive any time soon; Mirian¡¯s family lived about as far southeast as one could be and still be in Baracuel. Arriroba was also a small enough town it wasn¡¯t on most maps, and there still wasn¡¯t a train that connected to it, so it always took about a month for mail to travel there.

    Registration went smoothly. She signed up for another Artifice Design course from Professor Torres, as well as an Artifice Physics class from Professor Endresen. She hadn¡¯t had her before, but heard she was good and fair. Mirian also signed up for Spell Engine Alchemistry, which was another newer class that would certainly give her a leg up in getting work in a spellforge factory. Once again, though, the enchantment class she needed was full¡ªexcept for one course from Professor Eld. She grimaced at the thought of having him for another quarter, but there wasn¡¯t much alternative. She only had two quarters left before she graduated, and most of the classes she needed were requirements.

    The last class she took was related to spell engines, but not quite about them. It was Geoarcanology, with this course aimed at arcanists who needed to know more about myrvite fossils and where to find them. That also seemed to be a skill in high demand. Back in her home town of Arriroba, she had constantly watched expeditions pass through on their way to Persama. For whatever reason, that region was where almost all the myrvite fossils were. Of course, it wasn¡¯t a simple matter to retrieve them; the locals were often hostile, and she¡¯d learned in her schooling the region was full of conflict. Occasionally, the raids would spill into south Baracuel, and the army would be sent out to crack skulls until things calmed down again.

    She didn¡¯t know much about the history or the politics of it all, but at the very least, it seemed wise to learn a skill that was in such high demand.

    For the next few days, she just tried to relax. She went running in the Mage¡¯s Grove, where beautiful nature trails snaked through a well-kept wood. She went dueling in the Stygalta Arena. She read, and talked with Lily.

    It took her a few days, but she finally worked up the courage to visit Bainrose Castle again. After all, she would need the books there, it wasn¡¯t like she could afford her own copies. She didn¡¯t know what she expected. Something¡­ dramatic? Strange? Cloaked figures crawling from between the shelves with knives?

    None of the terrible things she imagined happened. It was as it always was: packed with busy students, researchers, and visiting guests. She found copies of her textbooks and checked them out.

    The librarian didn¡¯t glare at her suspiciously. The bored guard standing by the entrance didn¡¯t tackle her. Before she left though, curiosity gripped her.

    She went up a floor and walked by the museum.

    The lavatory tower was locked. A sign indicated they were doing restoration work inside. That was, by her estimation, total bullshit.

    It made her feel better, strangely. It hadn¡¯t all been a crazy hallucination. It was real.

    Mirian left. It was comforting to know she wasn¡¯t crazy, but also comforting to get the hell out of there. She made herself a little nest of blankets and pillows by the heater in her dorm building¡¯s upper commons room and started reading through the textbooks.

 Chapter 8 - New Quarter

    The break passed far too quickly, and soon enough, Mirian found herself walking to class with Lily. By now, the weather had finally turned, so a light snowfall had coated Torrviol in a beautiful blanket of white. Lily, who had grown up with snow, found it annoying. Mirian, who had only ever seen it in the mountains of her home province, couldn¡¯t stop appreciating the beauty of it. The way the snow muted the sounds of the morning, the way it turned the pre-dawn world gray and smooth.

    She tried explaining this to Lily, unsuccessfully.

    ¡°It just means more ice to slip on,¡± Lily said.

    ¡°But just¡ªjust look at it!¡± Mirian said. ¡°The world all¡­ matches. It¡¯s organized. Clean. I know, I know that beneath it all, there¡¯s still all the mud and trash, and I know it gets all gross later, but the first snowfall¡­ it¡¯s so nice. And it¡¯s spooky, but in a good way.¡±

    ¡°Did I mention my enchanted glasses can¡¯t see ice as well as eyes can?¡±

    ¡°Oh. Really? Well, sorry.¡±

    ¡°I should just get ice-climbing boots with the metal spikes and just eat all the dress-code violation demerits.¡±

    Mirian laughed at that.

    Lily went off to Advanced Spell Empowerment. She¡¯d passed the prerequisite examination, which they¡¯d both rejoiced about during the break. Mirian went off to Artifice Design 426. This was a far less lecture-heavy class. That also, thankfully, meant fewer students.

    Professor Torres had brought a spellrod to the class. ¡°Artifice has come to be synonymous with spell engines, but it actually precedes spellbooks. Our first project will be designing a spell-rod. This one is five hundred years old,¡± she said, as way of introduction.

    The class murmured about that. It looked new. The rod was mostly solid brass, with thin tubes and lacquered pieces twisting around the outside like a musical instrument. The head of it was a polished green stone, with a quartz tip at the end.

    ¡°Rods are still used extensively in Persama. This one is from before the dissolution of the old empire, which might give pause to your idea that time is a forward march of progress. All that is done can be undone, but this is not a history class. Nevertheless, a spellrod employs an important principal: It is flexible. Wands only have a single pathway and cast a single spell. A rod can achieve the same efficiencies, but can contain dozens of spells if designed properly. I don¡¯t expect anyone in the class to produce this kind of mastery, but you will need to draw heavily from what you know about alchemistry and enchantment.¡±

    Professor Torres then launched into an explanation of the inner workings of the spellrod, complete with an illusionary diagram that shimmered in the air by the podium. Each rotating ring on the spellrod moved around a chain of glyphs and connecting gold mana channels around. With clever design, the artisan had made it so that each combination of rotations led to a different spell. This spellrod had 80 spells it could cast, which was impressive.

    Mirian blinked. One of the books she¡¯d seen in the library talked about the concept. As she wrote her notes, she tried to remember the title.

    ¡°¡­the design re-uses glyphs and channels constantly, and requires a great deal of planning to pull off. It¡¯s also much easier to use than a spellbook since it only requires channeling mana through a single conduit in the handle. However, it also requires a great deal more memorization. Unlike a modern spell engine, rods generally do not have an instruction manual that explains which glyphs to press. Your project will need at least nine possible spells.¡±

    The rest of the lecture covered some of the theory behind effective design and the material physics. Then, they started working on designs, with Torres roaming about giving suggestions.

    Her next class with Professor Eld went about as well as the first. Eld¡¯s contempt for his audience always came across in his lectures. Unlike Torres, he wasn¡¯t going to give interesting projects, only rote practice and a lot of scathing comments. Mirian bore it, because she needed to. Eld was an ass, but glyphs were the foundation of the arcane professions.

    Mirian¡¯s third class of the day was with Professor Atger, a man who looked like he¡¯d stepped out of a board room. His silvered hair was freshly combed, and unlike the other professors who wore their normal clothes under the Academy jacket, he wore a full dress uniform.

    In his introduction, he mentioned he had, in fact, worked on spell engines for one of the factories, designing one of the components of the spellforge in Palendurio. This didn¡¯t seem like that big an accomplishment to Mirian. The first capitol of Baracuel did, after all, have hundreds if not thousands of spellforges in it.

    His lectures on spell engine alchemistry were straight from the textbook, though. Mirian was a bit disappointed. Did he really have nothing to add from his experience working for one of the companies?

    After the lecture, though, she ran into Nicolus. Again, there were three girls practically mobbing him, but he said something and walked right toward her, motioning that Mirian should join him. ¡°Our one class together, Nurea says. We¡¯ll need to study for this one,¡± he said. ¡°He¡¯s reading¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªstraight from the textbook,¡± Mirian finished.

    ¡°And the textbook is shit,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°Not my opinion, by the way, that¡¯s the opinion of Professor Torres, and she ought to know.¡±

    ¡°Huh. Yeah, she would. How did you find that out?¡±

    ¡°One of my cousins on my father¡¯s side works in the administrative office in the Artificer¡¯s Tower, two doors down from her office. They talk.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s lucky.¡±

    ¡°Sort of,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°You shake enough trees, you¡¯re bound to get fruit eventually. I happen to have a family of tree-shakers. Does Secondday and Fourthday after five o¡¯clock work for you?¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.Mirian checked her notebook. ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Hah! You even have a schedule in there. Right, same place. Nurea already has a list of books to look at. We¡¯ll divy ¡®em up and explain them to each other. I¡¯ve also got one more joining us, real smart kid. Now I¡¯ve gotta run.¡± Nicolus sighed, and gestured behind him. ¡°Drama.¡±

    The geology classes of the Academy didn¡¯t have their own special building, just a section of one. Class was just southeast of the Kiroscent Dome, and just north of the Market Forum where Torrviol stopped being an academy and started being a small but prosperous town.

    The professor of Geoarcanology, Marcel Holvatti, looked a lot like a clone of Atger, only slightly paler and with more of a hunched posture. He also had thick glasses, and casually wore a hand-lens that dangled off a lanyard around his neck.

    The spell engine he used was an older one, but the illusions of geologic rock layers and short animations showing how rock layers got formed were clear and informative.

    The lecture felt more like a business presentation than anything academic, with Professor Holvatti constantly mentioning ¡®return on investment¡¯ and ¡®energy return ratios.¡¯ Apparently, he had been a part of Baracuel¡¯s Bureau of Industry after several expeditions to Persama. Still, the information was simple and concise, and Mirian found it all interesting. Apparently, myrvite fossils had only formed during a specific period of time, after something called the ¡°Inundation Period¡± (she¡¯d have to look that up later), but before any bacteria or decomposers had evolved to deal with the magical volatility of myrvites. And apparently, Persama had not always been so desert-y. Holvatti mentioned finding huge palm leaf imprints in the rock, and fossils of jungle raptors and jaguars now only found in Tlaxhuaco. That was interesting to imagine. She drew a little picture of a jaguar looking confused in a desert.

    Mirian was glad that the class felt straightforward enough. It needed quite a bit of trigonometry, but only some basic calculus, and most of it was just conceptual, which was easy for her.

    Her last class of the day was Artifice Physics, which was back in the Artificer¡¯s Tower. Based on her silvering hair, Professor Endresen seemed about as old as the other two professors, but she carried herself very differently. When she spoke about researching arcane energy flows, it was with an unrestrained passion, like if she wasn¡¯t speaking to students in a lecture hall she might be out in the Market Forum explaining it to the crowd, whether they were willing or not. Her pale skin and accented Friian placed her firmly in the far north of Baracuel.

    ¡°The other forces of the universe are quite straightforward,¡± Endresen was saying. ¡°Heat and kinetic energy can be modeled with very simple equations. Gravity is simple as well, with the small interactions and the Divir Anomaly excepted. But the arcane force is absurdly complex. How is it that an illusion spell can create the complex light and sound of what a person has imagined or drawn? Not only is arcane energy versatile, it can transform into other types of energy. We know the how, but only at a superficial level. The research questions here are notoriously difficult to study, yet there can be no path forward but to attempt to. To succeed in this class, though, you must become comfortable asking questions to which there might be no answer.¡±

    Fortunately, though Professor Endresen was constantly making dramatic statements about the mysteries of the universe and the condition of humanity, she also did teach them facts, not just intriguing questions. ¡°To be clear,¡± she told them, ¡°what I am telling you is based on our best evidence. Many times, in research, we discover something we thought was true is not. We understand magic and physics far better than we did a few centuries ago, but even fundamental truths can be uprooted. It will only be those with open minds, who truly consider the reality before them, who will make discoveries.¡±

    In many ways, Professor Endresen was the exact opposite of Atger. She presented almost no information that was in the textbook. When a student asked about this at the end of class as they were all gathering their things to leave, she said, ¡°Why would I repeat what you read? If you want the information again, read it again. I¡¯m here to tell you what the textbook cannot.¡±

    ¡°It helps me to hear the information, though,¡± the student protested.

    ¡°Then read it out loud,¡± she said, and Mirian had to stop herself from laughing as she left the classroom.

    ***

    The second day of classes went much the same as the first. This time, Nicolus wasn¡¯t waiting beneath the archway. Mirian stood around awkwardly, waiting to see if he¡¯d show up, then realized he probably was already in the study room and went off to find him.

    ¡°Mirian! This is the guy I was telling you about. Xipuatl.¡±

    ¡°Close,¡± Xipuatl said.

    Nicolus just laughed. ¡°I¡¯m never going to get it right. There¡¯s a phoneme he uses I just can¡¯t even hear.¡±

    ¡°Good to meet you, Xipuatl,¡± Mirian said, shaking his hand. He had a firm grip.

    He said, ¡°Well, she got it right.¡± Xipuatl was obviously Tlaxhuaco. His dark skin and facial features would have said as much if his name hadn¡¯t. There weren¡¯t many in the Torrviol Academy. Really, there weren¡¯t many in all of Baracuel.

    ¡°His family was Tlaxhuaco nobility, and so when contact was reestablished between Baracuel and Tlaxhuaco, his family married into Baracuel nobility. I had no idea that was even a thing until I met him,¡± Nicolus said.

    Xipuatl scoffed. ¡° ¡®Reestablished contact¡¯ has got to be the worst euphemism for what happened I¡¯ve heard.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the term they used in my history class,¡± Nicolus laughed. ¡°They did worse, too.¡±

    Mirian wasn¡¯t quite following. She¡¯d never paid too much attention in history class.

    Xipuatl rolled his eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s get started,¡± he said.

    Sire Nurea, whose facial expression had not changed from ¡°unamused¡± the whole time, started distributing a cart full of library books to the table, which they all started paging through. After an hour of reading and skimming, plus some discussion, they decided on one textbook and two supplements to focus on.

    ¡°This one of the ones Professor Torres suggested?¡± Xipuatl asked.

    ¡°She suggested all of them,¡± Nurea said. ¡°Called it ¡®a good start.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Gods,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°I wonder what it would have been like to be in a class with her. Anyone with an ego about being smart would have had to just slice their wrists open right then and there.¡±

    ¡°Anyone can read books. It¡¯s just one of many paths to mastery,¡± Xipuatl said. ¡°And one that¡¯s often overstated. No book I¡¯ve read has been as instructional as actually practicing with magic.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s more expensive,¡± Mirian said, thinking of all the artifice designs she¡¯d like to practice, but couldn¡¯t afford to. And thinking of that crazy-old rod Professor Torres had.

    ¡°You need both, though. Practice and theory. That¡¯s what held back the Tlaxhuaco. All practice, no theory. Their shamans couldn¡¯t compete with battlemagi, which is why they had to cede so much.¡±

    ¡°A total misinterpretation of the historical facts,¡± Xipuatl rebutted. ¡°The reason they lost was Baracuel¡¯s militarism, honed by five hundred years of warring with each other. It was that their magic was all for war. They still can¡¯t compete with Tlaxhuaco¡¯s druids.¡± He paused, then said, ¡°Druid¡¯s the technical translation, based on the fifteen categories of magic, not our term. And our farming practices are also superior.¡±

    Nicolus held up his hand. ¡°Sorry, sorry. I wasn¡¯t trying to start anything.¡±

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s one of the reasons I¡¯m interested in academia,¡± Xipuatl said. ¡°A great deal of Tlaxhuaco knowledge needs to be integrated into the theoretical frameworks Baracuel established.¡±

    Nicolus leaned back in his chair, tapping the table thoughtfully. ¡°Do you think it shifts the paradigm like spell engines did?¡±

    ¡°Not in the same way. Spell engines have their own problems, though.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°What happens when the fossilized myrvite that fuels them runs out?¡± Xipuatl asked.

    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll have to solve that in a few hundred years, won¡¯t we?¡±

    Xipuatl made a grunting noise that indicated he still had problems with that answer, but by that point, everyone was tired, so they left.

    The two boys bickered, but it was an otherwise solid study group. She appreciated how seriously they both took their studies. It was only the second day, but for once, Mirian felt like she had a pretty good grasp on the quarter.

 Chapter 9 - Life Goes On...

    The rest of Mirian¡¯s week went smoothly. Each day she went to her classes, each night she studied. Fourthday, she met Xipuatl and Nicolus again who split their time between debate and study, while Nurea loomed in the corner.

    That weekend, Mirian went dueling again. During one of the bouts, she noticed Selesia watching her from the crowd, but when the bout finished, she couldn¡¯t find her. She was curious to talk to her again, but it seemed the feeling wasn¡¯t mutual. That was only slightly depressing.

    ¡°Have you talked to Selesia again?¡± she asked Lily when she got back to the dorm.

    ¡°No. Hey, check this out,¡± she said. Lily opened up her spellbook and concentrated, her hands brushing over the spells. The hairs on Lily¡¯s neck stood up. She could tell Lily was casting a spell, but not what. Human senses could only just perceive arcane energy, and it was hard to describe what that sense felt like because it wasn¡¯t connected to any of the other senses. Arcanists usually ended up comparing it to a sense, but that was inadequate.

    When the desk started to levitate, Mirian figured out what the spell was. ¡°Holy shit, Lily! Nice work!¡± The desk was solid wood, with the drawers stuffed with papers, so it had to be at least seventy pounds. Lily let the desk slowly drop back to the floor. Lily¡¯s study of enhanced spells was already paying off. Mirian could lift about five pounds with a force spell. ¡°You can almost lift a person!¡±

    ¡°Well, not a person,¡± Lily said. ¡°Because of the¡­ soul-thingy.¡±

    ¡°Entropic mana dissolution because of celestial displacement inhibition,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Yeah, that.¡±

    The non-academic way of saying it was that the soul, being composed of celestial energy, anchored the arcane energy around a person. In turn, that arcane energy repelled and disrupted any other arcane energy nearby, like the tide parting around a rock. Every living thing had this spell resistance, though it was almost unnoticeable in plants and insects. It only really started to be a problem when the animal in question was the size of a cat or larger.

    The resistance only worked for arcane forces. Once a spell had transformed into heat or force, a person¡¯s aura did nothing to resist the effect of the spell. In this case, though, Lily would need to form the spell around the person before it transformed into a lifting force, and this particular force spell (the classic lift object) was formed in contact with the target to save mana.

    ¡°What else are you working on?¡±

    ¡°Mostly just the intensify enhancement. It¡¯s the most broadly applicable, and most spells a mage is going to use has a known intensify glyph set. Oh, you won¡¯t believe what happened. You know that idiot Platus?¡±

    ¡°Oh Gods. What did he do this time?¡±

    ¡°I mean, I don¡¯t know how he even got into the class, my friend is sure his family must know someone on the Academy¡¯s board. He tried to hasten a spell.¡±

    ¡°No way.¡± Of all the enhancements, that was probably the most difficult. Unlike most enhancements, there were no special glyphs. The caster just simultaneously fed mana into all the glyphs of the spell, and only through precise spell control, assembled it in the second before they released it. The risk, of course, was assembling it in the wrong order. Release a fire spell before the glyph indicating the target received any mana and the fire started at the origin point, which was usually your hand.

    ¡°He got lucky. His spellbook went flying across the room and he tore a hole in his shirt, but his hand only bled a little. They called a priest over from the temple to see if he¡¯d done anything worse to himself, but he was fine. The professor was furious, though.¡±

    ***

    Mirian spent the weekend reading through her textbooks and making notes. On Seventhday, she visited the temple, as she always did.

    The priest¡¯s sermon was about Xylatarvia, delivering her message of peace, and the meaning of the arcane glyphs to the people. She descended from the stars on a boat made of vines to do this, and the priest was discussing the symbolism of this gesture. Mirian listened politely, as she always did. It was proper to attend, she knew this, but some days she wished she felt the connection to the Gods that others seemed to feel.

    Classes kept Mirian busy. In Artifice Design, she¡¯d started work on her spellrod, and most of her time was going into that. She¡¯d re-found Flexible Spellbook Composition for the Practical Mage, and was relying heavily on that as she worked on the glyphstones that would go in her rod. A lot of the work was just understanding machining. It was a prerequisite class, but it had also been three years since she¡¯d done much work in the metal shop. As she worked, she thought about how expensive all of it was. If she was going to open her own spellforge, she¡¯d need a lathe, a grinding machine, a welding machine, a drill press¡ªand that was just for the metal! Nevermind any sort of woodwork and the alchemistry glassware. There was no way she could afford it all. Sure, she could cut costs and use spells instead of a machine for some things, but the spell organs she¡¯d need for all the magical scribing ink might cost just as much in some cases.

    All the big spellforges were run by large companies now. She supposed Nicolus was right. That was the way of the future. It wouldn¡¯t pay nearly as well, and it wasn¡¯t what she had dreamed when she¡¯d started this journey so many years ago. Mirian¡¯s mind had always gone to a cozy, well lit shop, the workbenches littered with machines and devices. Each day, customers would come in, and she¡¯d fix their problems, and when she imagined it, it was all immensely satisfying. Churning out the same glyph by rote on a factory floor just didn¡¯t have the same appeal.

    Mirian¡¯s rod was a mix of practical and cheap.

    All of her mana relays were copper wire, even though silver would have made it more efficient. The glyphs would be contained in three cylinders, two of which could rotate, one of which could not. A clever mechanical lock would keep the cylinders from moving unless a button on the handle was depressed. That was just basic safety; the cylinders rotating mid-spell could cause the device to detonate, and she knew Professor Torres was looking for best-practice design principles, not just magical aptitude. Firstday, she finished the second of the cylinders, and Seconday she finished up the core of the device, snapping the magical catalyst into place. Even with the Academy subsidizing the materials, it was going to be an expensive project. But it was hers after she was done, so it also gave her a way to make something really useful.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    At five, she headed to the study session. Xipuatl and Nicolus verbally jousted again, but talking through the alchemistry concepts made a lot more sense than whatever Professor Atger had talked about. Mirian suspected he didn¡¯t actually know the material at all, and wondered how he had gotten the job. The Torrviol Academy was known for only recruiting the best teachers. Were the academies in Akana Praediar changing that?

    Thirdday, classes went as they usually did. But Nicolus wasn¡¯t in Spell Engine Alchemistry. Which was strange. He never skipped classes. Mirian wondered if he had gotten sick. She hoped she wouldn¡¯t get sick. She didn¡¯t have a lot of silver to pay a priest. And if it was one of the diseases that the priests couldn¡¯t cure, that was worse. Students got a discount at the local hospital, but even with that, it wasn¡¯t cheap. Or, more likely, he¡¯d realized attending class was useless if you¡¯d read the book. Yeah, probably that. The class had thinned out considerably since the first day.

    Geoarcanology assigned a myrvite fossil study project. That would involve a visit to the geology labs, and the only instruction Professor Holvatti had given them on the arcane resonator was a brief talk while he showed an illusionary picture of one. She could already feel the work it was going to take to research all the little minerals in the specimen and figure out how to use a resonator, and she was still working on her spellrod!

    Lily had gotten busy too. She hardly saw her roommate, who spent her evenings mostly at the practice range where the ward system made it safer to try new spells. If she wasn¡¯t doing that, she was researching intensify or extended spell glyph sets.

    The dorm was dark when she got back, and there was little to do but go to the diner alone. Mirian regretted not trying to make more friends at times like these. She missed all her preparatory school friends, but she¡¯d made the commitment when she joined the Academy: studies first.

    Fourthday, Valen knocked over her ink pot in enchantments, and Mirian was sure it wasn¡¯t an accident. This wasn¡¯t the first time, though, and Mirian had a spell for that. She cast reassemble liquid, using a drop of the ink as a spell component. She badly wanted to confront Valen, but she knew the other girl would just mock her for even talking to her.

    Again, Nicolus wasn¡¯t in class for Alchemistry, but neither was Xipuatl, and Mirian considered just leaving.

    At five o¡¯clock, Mirian went off to the study session.

    The room was locked.

    At first, she was confused. Had she gotten the days wrong? Or maybe Nicolus really was sick. But wouldn¡¯t Sire Nurea send a message or something? She stood around awkwardly.

    Xipuatl showed up a few minutes later. ¡°No need to wait on my account,¡± he said.

    ¡°It¡¯s locked. Have you seen Nicolus?¡±

    ¡°Locked? But we¡¯ve got the room reserved.¡± He tried the door, as if Mirian must have been mistaken. ¡°Huh. No, I stopped going to class. Waste of time. Professor Atger wouldn¡¯t know his own ass from a melon. Where is Nicolus?¡±

    ¡°I was hoping you knew.¡±

    They went to the service desk. ¡°Oh yes, it¡¯s still reserved, for one Nicolus Sacristar and three others. Here¡¯s the key,¡± the librarian said.

    ¡°Did Nicolus leave a message with you?¡± Xipuatl asked.

    ¡°No. Why?¡±

    ¡°Ah, nevermind,¡± he said. They went to the room, and of course it was empty. It was Nicolus whose turn it was to present, Xipuatl and Mirian having already done so the past two sessions. Worse, he had the book he was presenting on, and there wasn¡¯t another copy. ¡°Great. Now what?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. He¡¯s¡­ well, I guess I don¡¯t know him that well, but he¡¯s usually quite reliable.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the Sacristar motto. ¡®My word is as law.¡¯ For all his levity, Nicolus does take his family¡¯s position seriously.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll admit, I don¡¯t know much about the noble houses. I was taught they were a historical relic, and not to worry about them too much.¡± Seeing Xipuatl¡¯s expression, she clarified, ¡°The teacher didn¡¯t say that, but that was the impression I got.¡±

    Xipuatl pondered that. ¡°I¡­ well. I can¡¯t say I recommend getting involved in noble family politics. But if you live in Baracuel, you¡¯re in noble family politics. They¡¯ve lost certain lawmaking powers, and equality under the law means they no longer have the various immunities and special exceptions they once did. But there¡¯s the way things are supposed to work, and the way things actually work, yeah?¡±

    Mirian thought of the guard who had ignored her report, and the other one who was working with whoever that mysterious person was. ¡°Yeah, I guess,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯s your family motto?¡±

    Xipuatl smiled. ¡°¡®The tree that is bare is not dead.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Huh. What¡¯s that mean?¡±

    ¡°Many things, my friend. Things are not always as they seem, for one. Not to trust initial appearances. That one should value resilience. Legend has it that when the great nagual Ixchel of the Ceiba Yan Tree stepped foot on the shores of Baracuel, the Marqu¨¦ Toledez refused to marry her as agreed because he was in mourning; his favorite tree had died. Ixchel went to the courtyard where it was, and under her spell, the tree bloomed. The Marqu¨¦ immediately agreed to marry her.¡±

    ¡°That¡­¡± Mirian said. ¡°¡­is a strange story. Sorry, I¡¯m not trying to be rude, I just have no idea why you told me that.¡±

    Xipuatl laughed. ¡°Well, it¡¯s got that oral tradition problem: it¡¯s so packed with symbolism and history, if you¡¯re not familiar with the rest of the story, it makes no damned sense. There¡¯s another good life lesson, you know. Everything is understandable, but you see most of the world without the context that would make it make sense. Like this shit,¡± he said, gesturing to the Alchemistry textbook. ¡°The reason it doesn¡¯t make sense is we¡¯re missing half of the story.¡±

    Mirian hadn¡¯t heard that one before. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°The Baracuel and Akana Praediar academies insist that arcane and celestial energies are fundamentally different. But what if they¡¯re not?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Mirian said, and with a lot more hostility than she intended. The arcane and celestial energies were fundamentally different, just as the celestial and the necromantic were different. These were fundamental laws. It was if Xipuatl had told her that air and iron were the same thing.

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t worry about it. I have a lot of research work to do before I¡¯ll convince anyone of anything.¡± He gave a loud sigh and rose from his chair, the feet of it scrapping on the stone floor. ¡°Let¡¯s call this one early. I¡¯ll see if I can find Nicolus. I bet Calisto knows where he is. That girl¡­.¡±

    Xipuatl left before he clarified what was going on with ¡®that girl,¡¯ and Mirian had no idea who Calisto was. She wished, and not for the first time, that people were more like math equations. Then they would make sense, and the same inputs would always get the same outputs. Life would be so much easier.

    She packed up and left. Again, the dorm was dark. Even the usual third years who were usually making noise on the first floor commons were gone, and Mirian felt even more lonely than she usually did. But ¡®mope about while sad¡¯ was not on her schedule, so she forced herself to open up her geoarcanology textbook and figure out what the hell her geology professor was talking about when he kept going on about ¡®synclines¡¯ and ¡®anticlines.¡¯

    The next day, Mirian could only give thanks to Ominian that it was Fifthday. She passed through the central plaza, admiring the Kiroscent Dome, and deliberately tried not to look at any of the guards because they made her feel nervous now.

    She was just passing the Alchemistry building on her way to the Artificer¡¯s Tower when one of the third floor windows exploded.

 Chapter 10 - éˆ¥?nd Then It Ends

    Mirian didn¡¯t scream, but plenty of other people did. Instead, she crouched down and got ready to run. For a fraction of a second, a brief memory surfaced. Something like this had happened before. There¡¯d been an explosion, just nearby¡ª

    She looked around, ready to fight someone. But there was no one to fight, just broken glass spread across the cobblestones and smoke pouring out of the third floor window.

    At least this time, the guards came. Two of them approached, one from the courtyard, one from a nearby street. ¡°What happened?¡± one of them said, hand on his revolver holster.

    ¡°It just exploded!¡± a fourth year student said.

    ¡°Yeah, there was a green flash, and then¡­ is it on fire? Look at all that smoke!¡± a second year student said.

    A crowd was quickly forming. Mirian knew she had to get to class but she couldn¡¯t take her eyes off the smoke.

    ¡°Get the sorcerers,¡± one of the guards said to the other. The other one took off running.

    Another second year student by Mirian said, ¡°We should¡­ like¡­ cast a wind spell or something. To put out the flames. Does anyone¡­¡±

    ¡°No!¡± she snapped. ¡°Putting more air in there is just going to make the fire hotter. Or spread whatever just exploded around. There¡¯s a reason they called for someone who knows what they¡¯re doing.¡± She said it with a lot more anger than she meant to. The girl backed away from her, eyes wide.

    A bell started clanging, getting louder as it approached them. It was a fire wagon, a horseless carriage powered by a spell engine, loaded with supplies. As it approached, the driver shouted at the crowd to move. Gradually, it parted, and the wagon rolled up to the building.

    Two sorcerers dressed in red trousers and jackets leapt down, bandoliers with a dozen wands strapped across their torsos. ¡°Do we know the kind of fire?¡± one of them asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Mirian said.

    The first sorcerer pulled out a wand from his bandolier and held it in front of him. Bright lines traced their way through the smoke. ¡°Probably a magic start, but it¡¯s mundane now. Keep this area clear in case there¡¯s a secondary explosion,¡± he told the guard.

    The guard started yelling for the crowd to back up, and the two sorcerers rushed into the building, grabbing for a second wand. Wands only could contain one spell, but most were designed with enhancements already built in. It didn¡¯t look like much, but those sorcerers were packing some serious power.

    It took a few minutes, but then a force barrier spread across the third floor window and the smoke abruptly stopped coming out. She could see it building up across the barrier, and then it churned and was drawn back away from that barrier. Some sort of gas-collection spell, she guessed, and then sapping the heat energy from it so all the smoke became inert ash.

    The force barrier vanished, and one of the sorcerer¡¯s leaned out the window. ¡°Clear,¡± he said. ¡°Get a priest.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s heart sank.

    The crowd started to disperse, but Mirian stayed. She had to know: Who? Probably, she didn¡¯t know them. There were a lot of students at the Academy. And why had they been in the building so early? The Alchemistry building didn¡¯t have classes before 6 o¡¯clock.

    The sorcerers brought out the body, and it was clear they hadn¡¯t summoned the priest for healing, but for last rites. They¡¯d found some cloth to veil the body; apparently none of the wands they carried had any sort of illusion spell that could do that. It was badly burned, but when the wind caught the sheet, Mirian briefly saw who it was.

    Platus was dead.

    She hadn¡¯t liked Platus. He wasn¡¯t nice, and when she¡¯d worked with him on a group project her first year, he¡¯d been a total pain to work with. But she¡¯d known him. And he was¡­ dead.

    Her mind went to the cloaked figures she¡¯d been seeing. Had they done this? What were they even after? And who could she tell? Not the guards. Could she trust the sorcerers? Or would they just tell the guards?

    In a daze, she turned and walked. Where was she going? Class, she realized. Really? She was just going to walk into class, twenty minutes late, and¡­ what? Pretend everything was normal?

    Yeah, she realized. Better to get distracted by arcane theory, so she didn¡¯t have to think about what happened.

    Of course, it didn¡¯t work very well. She kept finding herself tuning out whatever Professor Torres was saying. What had happened? Was it going to happen again? More, there was that memory the explosion had triggered. She¡¯d forgotten about it, but it was there. When she searched for it, it was like looking through a fogged glass; it was too indistinct, but the emotions were there, and her heart kept racing.

    Her focus in Enchantments wasn¡¯t any better. And of course, third period, class was canceled. No one was being allowed into the Alchemistry building; even Professor Atger was outside.

    By Arcane Physics, apparently word had gotten around. Professor Endresen started the lecture with, ¡°I suppose by now you¡¯ve all heard.¡± She didn¡¯t say anything after that for a long time. Then, she said, simply, ¡°It¡¯s a dangerous profession, the one you¡¯ve chosen. That danger is only mitigated by knowledge. Nothing else.¡± Endresen looked out the window then, and for a minute, said nothing. That minute dragged on, and then she said, ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll begin today¡¯s lecture.¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t go to dueling, like she normally did. The sky was dark, but she cast a looped light spell before she left the dorm, then left her spellbook. The spell would illuminate her way for at least an hour before her auric mana couldn¡¯t sustain the draw. She headed for the Mage¡¯s Grove. She ran, much harder than she normally did, pushing herself until she¡¯d be too tired to think, and every time she thought about what happened, ran hard, ran faster. There had to be nothing left.

    When she got to the dorm, Lily was there.

    ¡°Was it really him?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I didn¡¯t¡­ know him very well.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯d been in so many classes together. Then¡­ he wasn¡¯t there. I mean, I¡­ I don¡¯t want to speak ill of the dead. But everyone else was there, and he wasn¡¯t. And we heard¡­ shit. Does anyone know what happened?¡±

    Mirian shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    They hugged each other, but they didn¡¯t say much after that.

    That weekend, Mirian enmeshed herself in studying. She found that if she focused everything on studying, then ran until exhaustion, she could avoid thinking about it.

    Seventhday, she went to the temple. The sermon was about Altrukyst, the Traveler. He spoke of the great journeys of life, but all Mirian could think was, what if that journey ends too soon?

    After the sermon, she waited to talk to the priest. ¡°Holy one, why is there death?¡± she asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s the question, isn¡¯t it? One of the prophets asked the Ominian. The response seems to be that it¡¯s an inevitable part of the universe. That doesn¡¯t make it any easier, though, does it?¡± The priest looked at her with sympathy. She could tell he¡¯d had this conversation before. In the coming days, perhaps a lot more.

    ¡°No, it doesn¡¯t,¡± she said.

    ¡°My next sermon, I will discuss it.¡±

    Mirian nodded, and headed back to her dorm. The next morning, they found a notice posted on the doors: Classes canceled for 26th of Solem, Firstday. The Academy would be doing a security review of the academic buildings.

    So she and Lily spent the day talking and studying. Lily took her to the practice range, and Mirian let off some steam by using her flame beam spell on a target, while Lily showed off her ability to spear a target with an enhanced force missile.

    Then they went for a walk in the Mage¡¯s Grove. It was near the southern part of wood that Mirian saw movement in the brush as they rounded the corner. Mirian held out her hand. ¡°Let¡¯s go a different way,¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t like that trail. This one¡¯s nicer.¡±

    Lily was confused, but when they were farther away, Mirian whispered, ¡°Did you see that?¡±

    ¡°See¡­ what? No?¡±

    Great, she was going to sound crazy again. ¡°There was someone hiding in the bushes. Maybe someone looking to pull a prank or something. I just didn¡¯t want to have to deal with it.¡± That wasn¡¯t what she¡¯d seen, though. There was no orange tinge or white fabric. It was that black cloak again, that damned black cloak. ¡°Or maybe it¡¯s something worse,¡± she said.

    ¡°You¡¯re good. All good,¡± Lily said. She could see Mirian was worked up, and maybe she¡¯d thought of why that might be, even if she was wrong.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said, and kept her eyes darting about for anything else. ¡°Let¡¯s go home.¡±

    ***

    It was nice to return to the normality of classes the next day. The Alchemistry building was still closed, but a second notice had been posted to all the doors (and around the plaza) of where all the alchemistry classes had been moved to. It was a bit more of a walk, but the windows could just make out the corner of the Market Forum, so Mirian spent some time gazing out the window while Atger pretended he wasn¡¯t reciting the textbook.

    ¡°Have you found out anything about Nicolus?¡± she asked Xipuatl.

    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°And Calisto doesn¡¯t know anything either. In fact, she was very distraught to learn he just left. Spent some time camping outside his dorm, but he¡¯s definitely not there. Unless he¡¯s turned nocturnal.¡±

    ¡°Calisto is¡­ stalking him?¡±

    Xipuatl sighed. ¡°Anyone with a whiff of power has to deal with people like that. They think if they attach themselves like a remora to the person, they¡¯ll get to share that power. I suppose it sometimes does work.¡±

    ¡°Does it happen to you?¡±

    ¡°Rarely. The dark skin throws them off. Mostly, I get people speaking to me really slowly like I¡¯m an idiot because they assume I don¡¯t speak Cuelsin or Friian. It¡¯s really annoying, but I suppose it could be worse. Anyways, off to Arcane Physics. Oh, and let¡¯s cancel the study session. No Nicolus, and apparently he¡ªwell, his knight¡ªdidn¡¯t reserve the room for today. If he¡¯s still gone by Fourthday, we can just meet at one of the study desks, I¡¯m not shelling out the silver to reserve it myself.¡±

    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.She said thanks and bid him goodbye. Well, there was another unsolved mystery. She¡¯d had such a good feeling about the start of the quarter, too. Now it felt like she was just waiting for more things to go wrong. What was next, another hole in the ceiling?

    ***

    On Thirdday after classes, she decided to go dueling instead of running. No cloaked figures there. Not as many people showed up at the Stygalta Arena during the week, but she was sure she could find someone to practice with. She was in her dorm room, and had just finishing buttoning her drakeskin jacket on when she heard the noise. It was loud¡ªreally loud, this CRACK sound that echoed off the buildings. Her heart started racing. Then she heard another, and another.

    Lily turned. ¡°What is that?¡± she asked.

    Then, another cracking sound, and the window of the dorm shattered.

    ¡°FUCK!¡± Mirian shouted, and hit the ground. The glass had shattered, spreading itself all over the floor. One of the shards had embedded itself in the dueling glove. She plucked it out and threw it across the room away from Lily.

    There was another sound, a thundering clap that was even louder, even though from the echo it sounded further away.

    Lily screamed, and Mirian said, ¡°We have to go. We have to go! We have to get the burning hells out of here! Grab your spellbook.¡±

    Mirian, for her part, grabbed her rod she¡¯d been working on for class. She¡¯d finished it over the weekend. With the rod in one hand and dragging Lily¡¯s arm with the other, she dragged them through the door. Other students were emerging from their rooms.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± one said.

    ¡°That¡¯s gunfire!¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Those can¡¯t be guns,¡± said another student. ¡°There¡¯s too many of them.¡±

    A moment later, there was a thundering crash that shook the entire dorm.

    One of the third year students said, ¡°That¡¯s not a gun, that¡¯s a fucking artillery shell! What the hell is going on?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I¡¯m getting the hell out of here,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Torrviol has actual buildings, made of stone. We stay here, we¡¯re dead.¡±

    ¡°If we run, we might be dead,¡± the third year said. ¡°We don¡¯t know where the gunfire is coming from.¡± Someone with family in the military, she thought.

    ¡°Northwest,¡± she said. ¡°They shot out my window. Lily, let¡¯s go.¡±

    Lily wasn¡¯t saying anything, she was just hyperventilating. Mirian kept holding her arm, and went out the front. ¡°Can you run? Let¡¯s run,¡± Mirian said, and took off. To her credit, Lily ran with her, though she was so slow. Behind her, a mob of students was following. Most were heading for the Academy buildings, though plenty were running in every direction. Some hid behind the neatly pruned trees, others just stood around in shock.

    Between the dorms and Academy, an explosion ripped through the field, erupting with a flash and shaking the ground so that they stumbled. Lightning flashed through the air, ricocheting between the lamp posts, trees, and students. The glyphs on the posts exploded, sending out gouts of fire. The trees hit by lightning shattered, and six students fell to the ground, dead before they could scream. Shrapnel cut down two more, but only killed one. The other was just bleeding, crying out in agony.

    Mirian kept running. She had to. Lily stumbled, but she pulled on her arm hard and said ¡°Come on!¡± though she couldn¡¯t hear herself, or Lily, couldn¡¯t hear anything except the high pitch ring of tinnitus because the strike had deafened her.

    They were almost to the buildings when another shell hit, this one smashing through the mid-section of Torrian Tower. Mirian watched in horror as the building listed, farther and farther until with a crack and screech the top of the tower fell over. It was like one of her brother¡¯s block towers crumpling, except it seemed to Mirian to happen in slow motion. Lightning crackled through the tower as it fell, as if a storm cloud were inside it. Thousands of glyphs and magical capacitors inside shattered in a growing cascade, sending a brilliant rainbow of lights crackling out.

    Then it smashed into the other buildings, and the earth trembled as it did. The result was devastating; an entire block, smashed to pieces, brick and stone scattered across the central plaza and the streets. Pulverized stone, erupting in huge clouds of dust. Screams of terror and pain, everywhere. Fires had broken out. The cascade of magical shockwaves that had come out of the tower had also broken most of the glyphlights, so the encroaching dusk suddenly became that much darker. The only thing that punctuated that darkness was flashes of light from lightning shells and fire shells as they rained down on Torrviol.

    Lily pulled back on her, wanting to turn back after seeing that, but when Mirian looked behind her, she saw a line of soldiers across the hill. Interspersed with them were giant wagons of steel, bristling with guns. The soldiers leveled their rifles. Lily was saying something, but Mirian was still deaf from the explosions.

    ¡°We have to keep going. Lily! We have to!¡±

    Shots rang out, though with her ringing ears, they sounded muted. The soldiers didn¡¯t seem to be aiming at them, but all the guns were pointed in their direction, so they needed to run. Why couldn¡¯t Lily see that? ¡°Lily! Come ON!¡± She yanked hard. Another student screamed as a bullet hit them, and then Lily ran again.

    By now, the dust cloud and smoke from the fires had inundated the streets, so as they moved into the Torrviol streets, they were blinded by the haze. People were running in every direction, most looking to get inside, but it was evening, so most of the doors were locked. Torrian Tower¡¯s collapse had blocked off three major roads, but they moved through an alley just north of it, and then they were in the plaza.

    ¡°We can run southeast,¡± she said. ¡°Away from the fighting.¡± She wasn¡¯t sure if Lily heard her. Her ears were still ringing, and another artillery shell crashed into Torrviol. From her spot in the plaza, Mirian could see smoke erupting from the Myrvite Studies building.

    They ran, again, Mirian leading the way, past the bell tower. They¡¯d made it to the Market Forum when another volley of gunfire rang out. She heard cannons blasting out, but this time from the south. There was an explosion nearby, one of the buildings, though she couldn¡¯t tell which one. Through the haze, she saw the red and brown uniforms of Baracuel soldiers advancing through the Forum, except the soldiers had their rifles leveled and were firing. What the hell are they doing? she thought, and screamed ¡°Civilians! We¡¯re civilians!¡± But that didn¡¯t do a damned thing. She saw a merchant who was running from them spray out red from his chest as a bullet found him.

    Again, she found herself yanking Lily¡¯s arm as they turned back toward the Plaza.

    Mirian set her eyes on the Kiroscent Dome. When the tower had shattered, a huge stone chunk had been sent flying into it, but its sturdy construction had weathered the blow. Only one of the front columns had collapsed. They had to climb over one of the fallen marble pillars, but they made it inside.

    There, a small crowd had gathered in the rotunda. The mood was mixed. Some were huddling in the center. Some were pacing about. Others were tearing up benches and whatever they could find to make barricades. A few were gathered on the stage beyond the rotunda, near the statue of Yiaverunan, the patron God of the Academy. Yiaverunan¡¯s four arms were spread wide with her symbols, and for a moment, it seemed to Mirian the God¡¯s statue was staring at them, past the blindfold that covered her eyes, with pity.

    She looked around for anyone she knew. She recognized Valen, Selesia, and Professor Viridian. Viridian¡¯s eyes had rings around them, and he was silent, staring at the entrance.

    Mirian couldn¡¯t think of anyone better to talk to. ¡°Professor!¡± she said, approaching him. ¡°What do we do?¡±

    He looked at her, but she had never before seen such a look of hopelessness. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he said.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on? Who is attacking us, and why are Baracuel soldiers here, and firing at us, and¡ª¡±

    Another explosion interrupted her, making the building shake and sending screams through the crowd. Gunfire erupted just outside, echoing through the Academy plaza. ¡°What do we do? What do we do?¡± Mirian hadn¡¯t studied for this. That felt so unfair. She¡¯d worked so hard, and right now, none of it mattered. She turned to the crowd. ¡°Does anyone have ink? A glyph pen? Rune powder? Spellbooks? We have to organize a defense! Those soldiers could come in at any moment, and they¡¯re firing on everyone!¡±

    To her surprise, it was Valen that spoke first. ¡°I have my spellbook. But it¡¯s mostly utility spells.¡±

    Selesia just shook her head, and sat with her arms wrapped around her knees. She was crying softly.

    ¡°Lily, you can do enhanced spells. Can you¡­?¡±

    ¡°I dropped my spellbook in the field,¡± she said. ¡°I tried to tell you.¡±

    Oh, Mirian thought. ¡°Shit.¡±

    ¡°No, we probably would have died if I¡¯d gotten it.¡±

    ¡°I have my spellbook,¡± another student offered.

    Since no one else seemed to be taking charge, Mirian started ordering people around, though she had no idea what she was doing. ¡°Uh, if you have a lift object spell, you can change the keirn glyph to cossali and channel it. Flip it sideways, and that can deflect objects. Maybe it¡¯ll work on bullets.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t,¡± another student said. He had the silver tassels of a fifth year. ¡°My dad¡¯s a corporal. If they think they¡¯re attacking arcanists, they¡¯ll be using magebreaker ammunition. Cuts right through force shields.¡±

    ¡°Magnetic spell?¡±

    ¡°Stops a dueling sword great,¡± he said, gesturing to Mirian¡¯s sheathed practice sword. ¡°No one here has a spell that can stop a bullet.¡±

    ¡°Maybe if we wave a bunch of white cloth at them they¡¯ll understand surrender. Who the hell is attacking us, anyways?¡±

    It was Selesia who answered. ¡°Akana Praediar,¡± she said. More gunfire echoed across the square.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°Shit. Well how do you say ¡®I¡¯m a civilian, please don¡¯t hurt us¡¯ in Eskanar?¡±

    Selesia shook her head again. ¡°If they want prisoners, they¡¯ll take them. If they don¡¯t¡­.¡±

    Mirian opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. She looked like a fish, she knew, but she couldn¡¯t put it into words. Akana Praediar was Baracuel¡¯s ally! They had, like, fifty different treaties and had passed laws protecting civilians in war. She didn¡¯t know a damn thing about history, but she knew that. Why is this happening?

    Then the blue and white uniforms of the Akanans appeared in the door. They lowered rifles.

    Mirian raised her arms above her head. ¡°Civilians!¡± she said.

    The gunfire was so loud. It echoed in the halls and all around the rotunda. Someone screamed. Whatever organization Mirian had tried to impose evaporated in an instant; everything descended into chaos. She saw Valen trying to light the uniforms of the soldiers on fire with basic fire spells, but something was suppressing the spells. Three students collapsed, bleeding, one making a horrible gurgling screech as they clutched their chest.

    Mirian dove behind one of the makeshift barricades. The wood benches and plush fabric did nothing to stop the bullets. When three of them perforated her hiding spot, she ran for it. Lily was beside her, and Valen. Behind her, she saw Viridian standing, spellbook in hand. The pages glowed beneath his hand as he flipped through them. She blinked, hesitating as she saw what he was doing¡ªevery spell he was casting was quickened. Some sort of arcane shield she¡¯d never seen before protected him. He brought down a stone relief on the top of two soldiers, then shot out lightning that took out another.

    A combat-sorcerer stepped through the entrance, wand in hand, and tore apart the shield. Two more sorcerers pressed him, wands blazing with light, and Viridian didn¡¯t stand a chance in that brief but overwhelming assault. He fell after that, three bullets spraying blood behind him as they tore him apart.

    This time, it was Lily dragging Mirian¡¯s hand. ¡°Keep going. Keep going,¡± she said.

    As they moved behind pillars, a lightning spell caught Valen and she went sprawling. A fireball blasted the center of the rotunda, and the pressure wave made it so Mirian went sprawling too, totally deaf again. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed for Lily, who was close to her. Valen was on the ground, not moving, and they were still being shot at. Gods, she didn¡¯t like her, but she didn¡¯t want her to die. There were so many dead, the screams were piercing, the shouting, the shooting.

    ¡°We can hide in the back, there¡¯s rooms back there¡ª¡± Mirian said. Lily didn¡¯t have her glasses anymore. And she couldn¡¯t hear, either, Mirian guessed. She tried to guide her up the stairs, but then suddenly Lily went limp in her arms.

    Mirian blinked. A force-blade spell had carved open her torso. One of the blades had sliced up Mirian''s arm, though the shock must have been overwhelming her, because though she saw the blood, she couldn¡¯t feel it. Instead, all she could do was gape at Lily.

    ¡°No, no, no,¡± she said. Not Lily. Not her friend. They¡¯d known each other since their first year, talked endlessly about everything, been there even when things were hardest. When Mirian was at her lowest, there was Lily, with a cup of tea, or a hug, or just a listening ear. When Lily had learned her grandma died, Mirian had been with her and comforted her.

    The tears were pouring down. She looked back. The blue and white uniformed soldiers were advancing. They¡¯d made it to the barricades, and there was nothing opposing them. Just corpses littering the rotunda, bodies strewn about like dolls.

    Fear gripped Mirian. She dropped her friend and ran across the stage, towards the dark rooms beyond promising safety.

    The bullet that went through her gut felt like a line of hot fire. She collapsed to the ground, legs suddenly not working. The soldiers kept coming forward, shouting in that strange tongue of theirs. Mirian felt cold. The floor was wet. Why was it wet?

    Blood, she realized. Her blood.

    She crawled to the statue of Yiaverunan, praying, begging. No, she thought. Not me. Not yet. She wasn¡¯t ready. She had only just begun life. The statue held her hourglass, star, hammer, and wheel. Time, she thought. I need more time. Her Mom and Dad¡ªthey were relying on her. She was going to finally be able to support them. Support her little brother. Oh Gods, Zayd. What would Zayd do without his big sister, his Mi-ri?

    An Akana soldier climbed up on the stage, wand in one hand, pistol in the other. She looked at Mirian with cold blue eyes, gaze icy as the winter, skin as pale as her hair. ¡°Please. Please,¡± Mirian found herself begging, crawling through her own blood to the statue. She leaned back on the statue, praying it might protect her. Praying for anything. In the oculus at the zenith of the dome, she looked for the light of heaven, but something had blotted out the stars. ¡°Mercy,¡± she whispered.

    But she was given none. The combat sorcerer said something, then raised her wand. The force-blade spell carved her to pieces, the blades powerful enough to cut through the statue.

 Chapter 11 - Begin Again

    Mirian sat straight up, gasping for air, heart pounding. She looked around, tears falling from her eyes as she remembered. She¡¯d been shot. She¡¯d died. Gods, she¡¯d died horribly!

    Then she looked around. She was¡ªin her dorm room?

    A drop of water hit her in the face.

    ¡°You okay?¡± a voice said. Lily. It was Lily!

    Mirian burst into tears and scrambled out of bed. ¡°You¡¯re alive! Oh thank the Gods.¡± She gave her a big hug.

    Lily put on her glasses and gave her a quizzical stare. ¡°Uh, obviously. Are you¡­ okay?¡±

    ¡°No. Gods above, no. Holy hells. What¡­ that was not a dream. There was no way that¡­.¡± Mirian looked around. Another drop fell from the ceiling, this time onto the center of her bed. She went over and looked up. The hole was back. ¡°They fixed that. What in the hells?¡± But there it was. When she looked up, she could see the glint of outside light, all the way up past the third floor.

    ¡°Wait, is that a leak?¡± Lily asked. ¡°We¡¯re on the first floor. How the hell did that happen?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Mirian paused. Well, she still had no idea. ¡°What¡¯s¡­ what¡¯s today?¡±

    ¡°Fourthday,¡± Lily said. ¡°Did you have a nightmare or something?¡±

    ¡°Yes. No. I don¡¯t know. Holy hells.¡± She was thinking: There¡¯s no way that was just a nightmare. This wasn¡¯t like a strange dream that felt real until she woke up. It still felt real. And it hadn¡¯t been a day, or a week, it had been almost an entire month. She remembered all of it¡ªher exams, the break, the second quarter starting¡­ the attack. ¡°What¡­ like, I know this sounds stupid, but what¡¯s the date?¡±

    ¡°1st of Solem. Fourthday. Year of Poclym 4851, if you need that too. Mirian, what is going on?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. Everything. Shit, I¡­ I don¡¯t know. The Academy¡­ it was attacked. Twenty-seven days from now.¡± The tears came to her eyes. It had just happened. ¡°We died,¡± she said. ¡°All of us. Gods above.¡± She started trembling, and had to sit down on her bed. Another drop of water splashed on her head, but she ignored it.

    Lily was staring at her. ¡°Mirian, you¡¯re freaking me out.¡±

    ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m freaking myself out too. I¡¯m¡­ I don¡¯t understand.¡± What did it mean? Had it been a vision? Or had the Gods listened? She thought of Yiaverunan¡¯s hourglass, of the God¡¯s statue overlooking the Kiroscent Dome¡¯s rotunda.

    Of all the stories she had heard of the Gods, none of them were like this. The closest comparison was the Prophets, who heard the voices of the Gods. And the Prophets had been devout priests of the Luminate Order, they weren¡¯t some random student. No one would believe the Gods were talking to her. Worse, she could be branded a heretic and jailed.

    She looked at Lily and wiped the tears from her eyes. Second chance. You¡¯ve been given a second chance. She would save them this time.

    ¡°You really don¡¯t remember any of it?¡±

    ¡°Do you need¡­ I can call a healer. Or escort you to the hospital. Or temple. Do you¡­ Mirian, are you sure you didn¡¯t just have a terrible dream?¡±

    ¡°That must have been it,¡± she lied. ¡°Sorry. It was¡­ vivid.¡± It was real.

    ¡°Isn¡¯t your exam today?¡± Lily asked.

    Mirian blinked, and noticed the clay cube with glyphs on it that was lying on her table. Right, she thought. None of the things she¡¯d done last time had happened yet. She still needed to complete the quarter. There was no sense sabotaging her career by skipping classes. Besides, who was going to believe her? She needed proof.

    Another drop of water hit her. Oh, and she needed to deal with the Gods damned hole again!

    ¡°Mirian?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I need to stop the leak first.¡± She picked up her spellbook, opened it to the page with shape metal and¡­ it was blank. Of course it was blank. She hadn¡¯t scribed the spell to it yet. ¡°There¡¯s a pipe that got hit up on the third floor, so it¡¯s going to keep spraying water even when the rain stops.¡± She grabbed the storage tin from under her bed, added a wad of clay to it, and marched up to the third floor in her nightrobe.

    The door was locked, but she used a lift object to get the latch on the other side up, and then opened. Had it been locked last time? She couldn¡¯t remember. But sure enough, the copper pipe was hissing out water. She stuffed the clay in the hole, then put the tin under the spraying water. That would last for at least a few hours.

    She rushed back down. As she dressed for class, she said, ¡°Lily, I think I¡¯m just going to act strange for a bit. It¡¯s¡­ I can¡¯t explain it. Or at least, I can¡¯t explain it without sounding absolutely unhinged. Sorry in advance,¡± she said.

    ¡°Uh, alright,¡± Lily said. ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want to talk about it?¡±

    ¡°Maybe later,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll think of some clever way to explain it all.¡± Or maybe not, she thought. Her thoughts were still whirling with all the death she¡¯d just seen. The sheer terror of it all, the panicked screams¡ªso many people, slaughtered. And why? Akana Praediar was Baracuel¡¯s ally. As she grabbed her spellbook and cloak to leave, she thought of the cloaked figure. An Akanan spy? Then her mind was back on the pale faces of students who had bled to death in the Kiroscent Dome. The terror she¡¯d felt, crawling away, knowing she was going to die. She left, and those images kept invading her mind as she walked. Gods, how was she going to do anything?

    ¡°Mirian. Miran!¡± Lily had caught up with her. ¡°Your notebook. Your artifice project! Here! Wow, you really are out of it.¡±

    Mirian blinked like an idiot. ¡°Wow. Right. Thank you!¡± Yeah, she was absolutely doomed.

    The day was overcast, with a slight drizzle coming down. She remembered it would be cloudy all day, and everyone would have their heads down, cloak on until¡ª

    The cloaked figure!

    Her stomach grumbling told her she¡¯d forgotten to go eat breakfast. Whoops. But that meant she was early. She could¡­ catch him? Probably not. But maybe she could cause enough of a scene to get someone else to notice. That was the problem. The only other person who¡¯d ever seen the guy was Valen of all people. Gods, Valen had died too. She remembered her body, smoldering between the pillars.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    She walked fast, passing a group of first years who were dawdling on the path, then made her way across the plaza. Deja vu struck. There¡¯d been a first year girl crying in front of Bainrose Library. With a start, she looked back¡ªand realized she¡¯d just passed that girl.

    She wondered what happened. But there wasn¡¯t time for that. She hurried into the Alchemistry building and headed for the stairs. The building was mostly empty at this hour, so Mirian sprinted up the stairs. The door to the roof was locked, but there was a window by the stairs. She undid the latch and threw it open. Where was he? She knew he should be approaching from the adjacent building¡¯s flat roof, which she could just make out. Then she realized a girl leaning out the window might discourage him from making an appearance.

    Mirian pressed herself to the side of the window so she could just see. The waiting was interminable. She kept wondering if she was in the right place, or if something had changed. Another thought: Was she the only one who remembered? Lily hadn¡¯t remembered, but was it possible others had?

    Then, she caught sight of movement on the roof. An idea came to Mirian. She couldn¡¯t stop him, almost certainly couldn¡¯t fight him, but maybe she could get some evidence. She readied her spellbook.

    Mirian could just see the blond hair hidden under the man¡¯s cloak. He looked around, not seeing Mirian yet, but as he approached the lip of the roof, he stopped. Now he had noticed her.

    She cast her spell. Lift object was a fast spell, only requiring three glyphs. It was harder, because the object was attached to his person, but she poured mana into the spell to overcome the resistance. The buckle on the satchel by his belt detached. She turned it upside down. A scroll fell out, drifting to the narrow alley between the buildings.

    The man¡¯s eyes had locked on Mirian now, and he reached beneath his coat. A wand, she thought, but she didn¡¯t wait to find out. She dashed back down the stairs, then out the building, pushing past a group of students who looked at her quizzically.

    There! Between the buildings, the scroll. She snatched it up and unrolled it as she dashed back inside the Alchemistry building. It had landed in a puddle, so half the writing was already smeared, but it was clearly written in Eskanar. Eskanar, that was, that she couldn¡¯t read. She rolled it back up and stashed it in her bag, then made her way to Alchemistry class. If that cloaked man was looking for her, he¡¯d have a hell of a time picking her out of a crowd of identically uniformed students.

    The bell tower rang out, and Professor Seneca snapped shut her pocket watch. ¡°Alright, class!¡± she began. Mirian took out her notebook, but then she realized¡ªshe wasn¡¯t sitting in the same seat she had been in last time. And Nicolus hadn¡¯t sat next to her. That meant he wasn¡¯t going to see the notebook, and wasn¡¯t going to be impressed by her studiousness, and she¡¯d never meet him at the study session. Shit, she thought.

    Maybe she could fix that. She opened up her notebook, and was briefly disconcerted. The pages she had filled were blank. Of course they were.

    As Professor Seneca lectured her way through mana classes, volatility, transformations, and then magichemical molecule types, Mirian diligently took notes¡ªagain. It all went the same as she remembered it, and none of the other students seemed at all like they had seen war come to Torrviol Academy. The exam was nearly a month ago from her perspective, so she needed the review as much as ever. She thought to her score. She¡¯d gotten a C, and she thought she knew why. Her study session with Nicolus had been nice, but five of the questions were about glycomyriates, and she¡¯d forgotten how to diagram at least four of them. Then, she had written a bunch of eximontar-shit about syncronated transformations hoping to get partial credit. Well, she knew exactly what to study, didn¡¯t she? The realization made her feel a pang of guilt. Was it cheating if the God Yiaverunan showed you a vision of the future, or sent you back in time, or whatever the hell had happened?

    Mirian suppressed the emotion. There was no sense feeling bad about something she couldn¡¯t control. And ¡®saving you all from a horrific death¡¯ ought to be a reasonable recompense. It was a good thing she''d heard all of today''s review before. She could hardly focus. She kept thinking of what had happened. She still couldn''t wrap her mind around it.

    Before getting Myrvite Ecology, Mirian stopped by the maintenance office. She could be late to class, as long as she made it before the end of class. The cloaked figure would be back. She wasn¡¯t sure what to do about that, but damned if she wouldn¡¯t do something.

    ¡°Hello,¡± she said to the man at the maintenance desk. ¡°There¡¯s a leak in my dorm. One of the water heaters got hit, and if it¡¯s not stopped it¡¯ll cause flooding and damage in three rooms.¡±

    The man looked up at her. ¡°You need to submit a formal request to the Office of Student Housing,¡± he said.

    This had happened last quarter, too. ¡°Funny, because they told me to go straight to you because it was an ¡®expedited request.¡¯ You know how water damage works, right? The sooner its fixed, the less hassle.¡±

    The man gave such a long and dramatic sigh it was like his soul was leaving his body. ¡°We¡¯re busy,¡± he said, after he was done.

    ¡°You can¡¯t send a single person with repair metal and a sheet of copper? Even a temporary fix would go a long way.¡±

    He gestured to the back of the office, which was full of empty desks and vacant spaces. ¡°Do you see anyone else? It¡¯s just me, at the front desk. Everyone else is busy.¡± There was a great deal of frustration in his tone. Her mind went back to Valen, saying don¡¯t pay attention to what people say, pay attention to how they say it. Or something like that. Come to think of it, she¡¯d say that later today. Something was going on.

    ¡°Can I ask¡­ what it is? The thing that¡¯s going on?¡±

    He rolled his eyes. ¡°Sure.¡±

    Mirian hesitated. ¡°Uh, what¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because I was told not to tell people. Especially students. Now if you don¡¯t mind, I have a lot of paperwork¡­¡±

    Mirian decided to take a chance. Telling the guards was obviously going to backfire, because they either didn¡¯t care or were in on whatever was going on. But maybe an annoyed bureaucrat was the perfect person to tell. ¡°Does this have anything to do with the weird guy I saw jumping onto the roof of the Alchemistry building? The cloaked guy who did not look like a student at all?¡±

    The man opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then raised a finger, then put his finger back down. Finally, he said, ¡°When¡­ was this?¡±

    ¡°Just before six o¡¯clock class. He dropped this. I told a guard about it, but he just shrugged.¡± She brought out the water-damaged scroll.

    The man¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°May I see that?¡±

    Mirian set her jaw. ¡°Only if you give me three small plywood squares, some nails, and a copper pipe so I can put in a temporary fix. The leak is right above my bed. And no one is allowed to be mad at me about it if I accidentally put a nail through something important.¡±

    ¡°Deal,¡± he said.

    Another realization struck Mirian. She already knew when and where the next break-in would be. ¡°Also¡­ the guy on the roof. I heard him talking, I don¡¯t know to who. He said something about being at the myrvite kennels at 9:40. Which, actually, I¡¯m late for class there, was creepy as hell to hear some guy wanted to break in to the same building I was going to. And really weird that the guard in the plaza didn¡¯t care.¡± Technically, she hadn¡¯t told the guard this time, and she wasn¡¯t going to. No way that ended well for her. She was pretty sure the guy on the roof hadn¡¯t gotten a good look at her, but the more times she interacted with these people, the more likely something bad might happen. She¡¯d died once, and it was awful¡ªshe wasn¡¯t looking to repeat the experience.

    The man looked at her carefully. Not with disbelief, she hoped. Finally, he said, ¡°Our leading hypothesis was this was a fraternity prank gone off the rails.¡±

    Oh shit, Mirian thought. Maintenance was too busy to fix the leak because they were too busy fixing¡­ stuff. Stuff all over the Academy, she guessed. And not just broken locks. ¡°How many¡­ uh¡­ things¡­?¡±

    ¡°Dozens,¡± the man admitted. ¡°And all over the place, too. The Torrviol Guard is looking in to the break-ins, but they haven¡¯t turned anything up. Look, don¡¯t go spreading that around, I¡¯ve told you too much as is. Here, the least I can do is get you what you need to do a patch job.¡± He left the desk, and returned a bit later with a linen satchel that clanked about as it moved. ¡°Oh, and please make sure to use the lever by the water heater to disable flow before you replace any pipes. There¡¯s a scroll in that bag with the spell you need for the weld.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she said. ¡°And good luck with¡­ all the stuff.¡±

 Chapter 12 - Small Fixes

    It was a bit awkward to walk across campus with two bags, one clanging about, but she felt quite satisfied with how things had turned out. If she could get maintenance, or some guards that weren¡¯t on the cloaked-people payroll to confront the spy, things would go so much better.

    She slipped into Myrvite Ecology as quietly as she could, though she could see from Professor Viridian¡¯s glance her way that he had seen her. For a moment, her heart raced, and she was deeply unsettled. A few hours ago, she¡¯d watched him exsanguinating on the rotunda floor, having first lost all hope.

    Mirian had missed the demonstration¡ªthe blackened gauntlet was sitting on the table next to the regal cordyline¡ªbut not much of the lecture. She sat at the back near the door, flipped open her notebook and tried to focus.

    As the end of class approached, her heart started racing. As soon as the bells started clanging, she was out the door, holding the repair satchel tight to her body so it wouldn¡¯t clank so loud. She looked down the corridor that led to the myrvite kennels. Sure enough, one of the cloaked figures had just finished opening one of the secure doors. She looked behind her.

    Valen was looking, first at Mirian, then down the corridor.

    ¡°Did you see that?¡± she asked, as she had.

    ¡°How did you know that was going to happen?¡± Valen asked, which was not what she said the first time.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Mirian lied. Then, she thought of all the rumors Valen had spread, with not a single one she could ever trace back to her. ¡°Well, I¡¯d heard a rumor. Strange people breaking into buildings, and the Torrviol guards aren¡¯t doing anything about it. Then at the end of class, I hear a weird noise and¡­ yeah.¡±

    Valen looked up at her.

    ¡°Do you think we should tell someone? It sounds stupid, doesn¡¯t it? Who would believe us?¡±

    Valen said, ¡°Mirian, I wish I could figure you out.¡±

    Which was not what Mirian was expecting her to say. ¡°Me? You¡¯re the weird one!¡±

    To that, Valen let out an undignified guffaw.

    ¡°Look, if you want to tell Professor Viridian, go for it. I need to get to my next class.¡±

    ¡°You and your bag of copper bells are dismissed,¡± Valen said contemptuously, which was more like her usual self.

    ¡°Got it, oh short one,¡± she replied, and hurried down the stairs.

    She had her Enchantments exam next. As she walked there, she remembered one thing that was absolutely critical: Do not sit next to that one girl. The good news was, they¡¯d been using the glyphs that were on the exam constantly in the Spellbook¡¯s class Professor Eld was running next quarter, so she expected to do quite well.

    She¡¯d gotten a D on the exam last time, but there was no way that was happening again. Mirian chose a spot well to the back of the class between two boys, since she had only the vaguest recollection of what the girl who had screwed up her exam looked like.

    ¡°Hey,¡± one of the boys said, and waggled his eyebrows, which made Mirian roll her eyes. She picked up her stuff and moved, because no way was she going to get accused of cheating by Professor Eld because some idiot couldn¡¯t keep his mouth closed.

    This time, she saw the blow-up that happened near the end of the exam from a distance. Some boy¡¯s paper and pen both went flying. But Professor Eld didn¡¯t dress him down, just snapped ¡°get back to your seat,¡± and to the girl he said, ¡°And don¡¯t let it happen again.¡± Well that was unfair. If Eld was going to be a dick, he should at least be a dick equally. She finished, this time with a few minutes to spare.

    Then, it was off to Artifice Design.

    Before class started, she said, ¡°Professor Torres, after my presentation may I leave class? There¡¯s a leak above my dorm room, and maintenance said they were too busy to fix it, only I haven¡¯t had time between classes and I don¡¯t want it to flood my bed¡­.¡±

    Torres gave her a strange look. ¡°That¡¯s a new one,¡± she said. Seeing the bag of parts, she shrugged. ¡°As long as you¡¯re here for the other presentations tomorrow and Sixthday. Case studies and feedback cycles are critical to design improvement, and I do not want you to miss it.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mirian said.

    This time, she gave her presentation with only half the ¡°ums¡± of last time, and impressed Torres by anticipating the first few questions. Then she was out the door, walking as fast as she could to her dorm. It was a long walk between the dorms and Academy, but there was no way she was dealing with a soaked bed again. It was far too annoying to be countenanced. If she needed more time on the repairs, she could skip lunch.

    She nailed the plywood into the floor over the third floor hole. The tricky one was nailing one of the squares to the ceiling. That involved a lot of concentration and casting lift object while holding the plywood in place with a broom handle. A good mage might be able to sustain one spell while casting a second. She was not good.

    It took her a bit to find the lever, which was actually hidden behind a panel in the wall that she had not realized was a panel. She dumped the storage tin of water out the window, then placed it beneath. A bunch of water dumped out as she undid the broken pipe, but not enough to overtop it, and only some of it sprayed across the floor. With no small sense of satisfaction, she sealed it with the melt metal scroll, which disintegrated as she finished. Scrolls did that. The discount ink and cheaper paper fell apart as energy leakage from the mana channeled through it, but it was serviceable for simple spells you only needed to cast once on the cheap.

    Somewhere in the dorms, someone was swearing up a storm because their shower had just lost hot water. Mirian felt no sympathy, but she turned the lever back on. Then it was down to the second floor, where she used lift object to break open the lock. And it was broken, she realized. Oops. Well, she had made maintenance promise not to be mad at her, and also, no one was using the room anyways. With the last hole sealed, she was satisfied. It would at least last until everyone was done fixing whatever those spies were doing.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The maintenance building was locked up when she visited to drop off the satchel. Probably on lunch break, she thought, and rushed over to the cafeteria herself to buy a quick lunch for a few coral beadcoins. Two of them got her a plate of shepherd¡¯s pie and a bread roll. Thank the Gods for cheap food, she thought. She was absolutely famished. She¡¯d missed breakfast, and the attack on the Academy had meant she missed dinner.

    That thought gave her pause.

    Did skipping dinner¡­ count? Had the food she¡¯d eaten before she woke up again in her bed followed her, or just the memories? After all, the wounds hadn¡¯t followed her.

    Well, it would have to be a philosophical question for another time. She finished scarfing down her food and headed off to Arcane Mathematics.

    The lecture made a lot more sense the second time through. She still found herself asking questions, but she was starting to see what Professor Jei was getting at. She was trying to model the path that arcane energy actually took. But she wasn¡¯t using three spatial dimensions as the coordinates. She was using four.

    Mirian tried to visualize what that might look like. Professor Jei seemed to be able to keep it all in her head, but she needed to see it. She sketched out a few basic shapes, but got stuck on modeling a partial rotation. She could tell that a four dimensional path would only ever be visible in part from a single perspective. Worse, people couldn¡¯t directly see pure arcane energy, though most spells bled some sort of light.

    ¡°Why model arcane energy as traveling through an extra spatial dimension,¡± she finally asked, when it was an appropriate moment.

    Professor Jei¡¯s eyes lit up. ¡°Data,¡± she said simply, and for once, she smiled.

    It made a sort of sense. Even a simple heat water spell seemed to simply begin at its target destination, with no indication of a space closed between them. That meant the arcane energy was traveling, just by an invisible path. That led her to another question: How had people figured out so much about the glyphs before they understood even the basic math behind it? Why was the mathematical understanding centuries behind the practical knowledge?

    It was a fascinating line of questions, and she could immediately see why Jei was so interested in it all. It would also have to wait. Her priority had to be stopping the attack on the Academy. She still didn¡¯t understand what the spies were doing¡ªit wasn¡¯t like they needed a map of the Academy, anyone visiting from Akana Praediar could just buy a map of Torrviol for a silver drachm. Maybe it had something to do with why they were attacking in the first place. But she couldn¡¯t think of anything so valuable that it warranted a war against Baracuel.

    And she needed some sort of explanation. What was she going to say? Oh yes, our closest ally is about to launch a surprise attack on a school. Why? No reason, really, these sort of things just happen. How do I know? Well, the Gods gave me a vision of the future. Or maybe it was time travel. Normal stuff. Can you send the soldiers now?

    Yeah, that would go over great. Five hells, she couldn¡¯t even think of what to say to Lily of all people!

    She needed to figure out how to contact someone above the guards. The Crown Bureau seemed like the best bet. Only, they didn¡¯t have an office in Torrviol. And besides, wasn¡¯t this above that? This wasn¡¯t just some criminals causing mischief like she¡¯d thought at first. These had to be foreign agents, or employed as such. That meant she needed to talk to the Deeps, or the military. Well, she had no idea where the secret police liked to hang out. Wouldn¡¯t be very secret if she did. But they had to have some sort of public office, right? And where was the nearest military fort?

    Her next problem was the only proof she¡¯d gotten was a half-illegible scroll written in Eskanar that she couldn¡¯t read. And she¡¯d given it to some random maintenance man! It might not even be proof. It might be a grocery list!

    Mirian considered for a moment that even with this second chance, she was so far over her head it was ridiculous. Why hadn¡¯t the Gods chosen, say, a general of the army. Or a professor. She was twenty-two, and no one was going to take her seriously.

    Well, at least she could try.

    ¡°Lily, where¡¯s the nearest military base?¡± she asked when she got back to the dorm. She was pleased to see her bed was not flooded by gross ceiling water.

    Lily looked at her like she¡¯d sprouted a third head. ¡°I¡¯m fine, yeah, my day was great, thanks for asking. How are you?¡±

    Mirian groaned. ¡°Sorry. I just¡­ it happened. For me, it feels like it happened earlier today. I know it sounds absolutely unhinged, but¡­ it wasn¡¯t a dream. The Academy gets attacked. And you¡­.¡± She started crying, very suddenly. One moment she was trying to stay calm and rational, and the next moment the emotions slammed into her and it was all she could do not collapse.

    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ you died. I watched it. Everyone died. I died,¡± she said, through tears. ¡°And I have to stop it somehow, but I don¡¯t know how, and I don¡¯t even know who I can trust, except you.¡±

    Lily came and sat next to her on the bed and wrapped her arm around her. She ran her hand through her hair and whispered, ¡°It¡¯s okay. It¡¯s okay,¡± which made Mirian just cry harder.

    It took awhile for her to get it all out of her system, and her handkerchief was soaked with tears and snot by the end of it, but she felt better. After one last sniffle, she said, ¡°Thanks.¡±

    Lily asked. ¡°I hate to be, uh, skeptical, I mean, I really want to believe you¡­.¡±

    ¡°No, I get it. I¡¯d be skeptical too.¡±

    ¡°¡­can you¡­ prove it? Like, predict the future?¡±

    ¡°Sort of. Maybe? Like, the last time I did this, Nicolus¡ªthe family Sacristar big-shot who always has a gaggle of girls around him¡ªhe sat next to me in Alchemistry and invited me to a study session. Which would be tonight, actually, and last time you stayed out late too. But I sat in a different seat this time. So the weird cloaked guy, I predicted¡ª¡±

    ¡°Weird cloaked guy?¡±

    ¡°¡ªbut the study session isn¡¯t going to happen now. Akana Praediar spies are roaming around the Academy, breaking into buildings. No, I don¡¯t know why.¡± Mirian snapped her fingers in realization. ¡°But they do it again tomorrow! In the library! And they go to the third basement floor where there¡¯s this huge mysterious door, and made them think it was someone else who escaped out the latrine.¡± She looked at Lily. ¡°I¡¯m not really helping prove my case.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s the weather tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°Cloudy with a bit of rain.¡±

    ¡°Bad example,¡± Lily said. ¡°What else?¡±

    ¡°If I tell you, that might change it,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I have an idea. I¡¯ll write down a prediction, and then I¡¯ll give it to you tomorrow after it happens. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve done anything that would change this one. I might have screwed up the spy thing that happens tomorrow night.¡±

    She scribbled down a note, folded it, then got some wax from her desk to seal it shut. ¡°Here,¡± she said. ¡°Hide it from me, and don¡¯t open it until I say.¡±

    Then she sat at her desk and started writing a letter.

    ¡°What¡¯s that for?¡± Lily asked.

    ¡°Trying to convince the Deeps or the military to investigate. I mean, it¡¯s an invasion force, an army. It wasn¡¯t small. How did it land without being detected? How did it make it fifty miles inland to Torrviol before there was any resistance? Whatever they¡¯re doing, there¡¯s some sort of sign of it. Remember in History 201 we learned about the first battles involving primitive spell engines? When Baracuel and Akana Praediar teamed up to attack the Zhighua coast to open it up to trade?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said.

    ¡°The army made a dust cloud that could be seen for miles around. And even though they landed miles away, some peasant village that wasn¡¯t on any of their maps detected them, so the first city that was supposed to be a surprise attack already had its gates closed.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it. Mirian, are you sure you shouldn¡¯t just¡­ I mean, one of our professors, or maybe a priest could help you. Maybe even¡­ a healer?¡±

    Yeah, she thought Mirian was crazy. ¡°I¡¯ll talk to the priest on Seventhday. I always go to the temple then.¡±

    The letter went through several drafts. She tried to think of the most plausible way that she could have found out about the attack without any sort of evidence and went with overhearing a blond-haired man with an Akanan accent discussing it with a guard, with money changing hands and all. That covered why she wasn¡¯t just going to the local guards. She also mentioned seeing the cloaked figures and all the break-ins that the maintenance guy had talked about.

    She copied the letter three times. That way, if one of the letters was lost the others would make it.

    Next, she had to figure out where to send them to.

    This she vowed, though: One way or another, she would stop the attack.

 Chapter 13 - Small Changes

    Mirian had a plan for finding out where to send the letters. She would visit Bainrose Castle and get the librarians to help her. However, there was a problem: She¡¯d seen the librarian who had chatted with that guard tomorrow (that felt weird to think about that way) was the same one working the library today. A different librarian was working over the weekend, so she could visit the Bainrose library Sixthday.

    Tonight, she resolved to study for Alchemistry. It was exhausting work. She wondered if Nicolus was studying with his knight in the library, or they just used their apartments in the city for that. A pang of envy went through her. The Sacristar family had relatives and estates nearby. Her family was three train rides away, practically on the other side of Baracuel. Once a year, she made her trip back to Arriroba so she could visit during the summer festival. The journey took about a week, so it was hard to visit more often without missing classes. Three days of riding trains, then two days to walk to the town. How lucky others were to be able to see their family. She missed her parents, and she missed her little brother.

    At least they¡¯d be safe, she knew. If she failed.

    And what would happen if she did fail? The Gods must have given her a second chance. She doubted they would give her a third.

    Clear your mind. Focus.

    She could feel the tension rising in her, and it would do no good. When she¡¯d been a child, and felt anger and fear so quickly, her parents had taught her how to meditate. She did this now, breathing in and out. She visualized the rolling arid hills of her home, thought of the distant warm breezes that came from the south. With her mind clear, she went back to studying for Alchemistry.

    When she slept, her dreams were strange again. She walked across a great stone causeway, the floor black and white speckled marble. There were no walls or ceilings. Instead, the endless stars were splayed out, only it seemed there were too many. Far more than were in the night sky. Here and there, strange rainbow clouds drifted amidst those stars. A silence followed her, and with it, the feeling that she was being watched. But when she looked, she could see nothing.

    Then, there was a fire in the heavens. She could describe it no other way; all at once, thousands of stars blazed out, surrounded by a cascading storm of light. The great fire pulsed like a heartbeat. She could feel that thump vibrating through the stone she stood on. With each of its drumbeats, the burning storm leapt outward to a new group of stars, and they were consumed. It came closer, glowed brighter.

    On impulse, she looked behind her. One of the stars beckoned to her, called to her. When she looked at it, she thought: Home. Not in any words, but in feeling. The vast skies of Arriroba, with the thin drifting clouds so up high. The door of her family¡¯s apartment, weathered but sturdy. The embrace of her mother and father after coming home from school. Watching her brother, still an infant, smiling in his crib. And that star¡ªwhy did it feel so familiar?

    Behind her, the consuming fire grew.

    The nails falling from the alarm candle roused her with a start. She wanted to go back to sleep and find out what had happened with the storm in the stars, but there was no hope of that. Instead, she sighed and got up. From the other bed, Lily gave a groan. ¡°I can¡¯t get up, it¡¯s too warm,¡± she said sleepily. Then, ¡°Do we really have to do more exams? I already did two, that should be plenty.¡±

    ¡°At least it¡¯s Fifthday,¡± Mirian said.

    Mirian spotted Xipuatl in the Alchemistry exam. Somehow, she¡¯d never noticed him in class before. She wondered what brought him into the study sessions with Nicolus. She hadn¡¯t seen them talk either. The exam was easier the second time, now that she¡¯d refreshed herself on the material she knew was present. Again, she felt guilty, like she was cheating, but what was she supposed to do? Pretend it hadn¡¯t all happened?

    When she went to Myrvite Ecology, she realized something had changed. Professor Viridian had chosen a different magical organism, though she couldn¡¯t tell what it was. He had it in a glass pot, but all she could see were white roots. ¡°Moon-root,¡± he said, gesturing at the container. Viridian looked and sounded tired, though he was trying to hide it. ¡°It¡¯s not actually a plant, but a mushroom, though you¡¯ll only see it sprout at night under a bright moon. However, the mycelium are quite active. Like most fungus, it¡¯s a decomposer. Moon-root, however, seems to need very little magic from what it consumes. Somehow, it is able to draw mana from other sources. It produces luax, sometimes called moon-tears, 3-A. However, though the mana in the tiny gray crystals it creates is A-class, the mushroom itself is toxic to humans. Baduka boars, however, can¡¯t get enough of the stuff.¡± The lecture that followed was not the one she remembered. It focused a lot more on decomposition and death in the ecosystem.

    Mirian wondered what had changed. Had the break-in to the building been stopped? Or had the spies just escaped and tried again?

    If the other students¡¯ presentation in Artifice had been boring the first time, they were even worse the second time. Mirian stopped paying attention after the first presentation, and started sketching her designs for her spellrod. This time, she wanted to put at least one combat spell on it, not just utility spells. Not that she had any hope of fighting off dozens of trained soldiers with rifles and wands. She couldn¡¯t stop thinking about what she¡¯d seen. Again, she found her heart racing. She slowed her breathing and imagined a desert, vast and calm. In her mind, it was where the warm wind she liked so much blew from, and in that wind was peace.

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    When she had done that, she started listening to the presentations again, and had to suppress a groan. The end of the class couldn¡¯t come soon enough.

    Mathematics went by fast enough, and the repetition was helpful. Then she went back to her dorm to meet Lily. ¡°Duels?¡± Lily asked her.

    ¡°Duels,¡± she said, and what a relief. ¡°You want to come?¡±

    Again, Lily looked at the stacks of papers on her desk and said, ¡°Yeah, hell, why not.¡±

    So off they were to the Stygalta Arena. As they passed by the Torrian Tower, Mirian remembered watching it fall. Gods, how was she supposed to just keep going with normal life after what she¡¯d seen? But she reminded herself that here, she could maybe convince Lily she wasn¡¯t crazy, and soon, she could send off those letters.

    Again, Mirian made her way to to the quicksilver room. She spotted Platus, and remembered abruptly that he had died before the attack. What was the connection?

    She also saw Liamar and Valen. Selesia wasn¡¯t here yet. She joins later, right? Mirian had a good memory, but there were so many things to remember, and she hadn¡¯t paid all that much attention to most of them. That was one problem with proving anything. The other was that stuff changed. Or there could be another explanation. Like, she could reveal she knew all the exam questions, but long before ¡®time travel,¡¯ most people would say ¡®she saw a copy of the exam early.¡¯

    Weather might be good. But then she couldn¡¯t remember which day it actually started snowing. Well, dueling would do her good. It would at least clear her head of all the nonsense thoughts in it.

    After practice, she was ready to fight Valen, ready for that stupid feint attack she was going to try to pull, but then she saw the names on the board. This time she was fighter number three, and Valen was eight.

    It had changed.

    Damn it all, she thought. What had changed it? It hadn¡¯t even been two days, but somehow, the small changes had added up and the judge had pulled the number cards slightly differently. Was it her entry time? Was it how she¡¯d talked to Lily, so that she did something differently? Or was it a causal chain she hadn¡¯t even realized she was starting? Well, now she knew; she couldn¡¯t rely on small detailed events. Predicting dice rolls and coin flips was out of the question.

    Ironically, it was Platus she was fighting. The boy was a brute, and his rapier technique was garbage. When he parried, he tried to use those big muscles for it, and just ended up opening himself up to a quick disengage. By all rights, he shouldn¡¯t have been in the quicksilver room. Maybe the cobalt room would have been a better fit, but his ego apparently couldn¡¯t handle that. Mirian used quick footwork and slow feints to bait him, then quickly got around his guard. The bout was over quickly, a resounding 5-0 victory for Mirian.

    She bowed respectfully, thinking, you die soon, unless I can stop it. How strange it was, to know that. But what could she say? She didn¡¯t think telling him would do anything. At least, not until she knew more. Gods, she¡¯d thought dueling might clear her head, but it was just making her think about it more.

    Mirian joined Lily on the benches. ¡°Does Platus always accuse you of cheating?¡± Lily asked.

    ¡°Huh? Oh, not just me. Basically everyone. Did he do it again?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, as he walked by. Wow. What a great guy, huh?¡±

    ¡°He certainly has a reputation,¡± Mirian said. She wracked her mind, trying to think about what they talked about last time. ¡°So what classes are you taking next quarter?¡±

    ¡°Alchemistry,¡± Lily said with a groan.

    ¡°I can totally give you my notes for that,¡± Mirian said. ¡°What else?¡±

    ¡°Advanced Spell Empowerment. If I can get in, of course. There¡¯s some strict entry requirements.¡±

    That seemed vaguely familiar. Mirian retraced the conversation as best she could, then went to her second bout. This time, it was against Liamar.

    Oh shit, she thought. She hoped that the meeting with Selesia wasn¡¯t contingent on winning this bout, because she was about to get her ass unavoidably kicked.

    Liamar started with an explosive attack, sending Mirian wheeling back with several desperate parries. When she tried to maneuver to the side and counter-attack, she found his blade was already at her side. After that, it only went downhill. Mirian was able to get two glancing blows on him, but Liamar ended the bout shortly after. Well, there was no shame losing to the best.

    When she sat back down, she was pleased to see that Selesia and Lily had finally met.

    ¡°Do you usually get trounced like that?¡± Lily asked.

    ¡°If it¡¯s Liamar? Absolutely. He¡¯s probably the best swordsman in Baracuel. I¡¯m just happy I almost got a full point on him. Who¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°Oh, this is Selesia. She was admiring your form.¡±

    Selesia blushed, as she had before. ¡°That is not what I said.¡±

    They talked amicably for awhile, Mirian explaining the nuances of the bouts they were watching, and Selesia talking about history. Selesia joined them at the dining hall again. This time, Mirian did pick up on a few things. Selesia kept looking at her when she thought Mirian wasn¡¯t looking. She also was interested in whatever Mirian had to say. Part of her wanted to acknowledge that, but she couldn¡¯t. She didn¡¯t want to change the outcome.

    When they headed back to the dorm, Mirian said, ¡°She was nice.¡±

    And Lily replied, ¡°I think she likes you.¡±

    This time, Mirian said, ¡°Open the note.¡±

    Lily got very quiet. When they entered the dorm, she went over to her desk where she rummaged around in the back drawer. She cracked the wax seal, then read. Mirian could tell she was uncomfortable. ¡°What is this?¡± she finally asked. ¡°Did you recruit some¡­ some fourth year to¡­ what? Prank me? Is this your way of¡­ what are you trying to do?¡± Her words came out with far more pain and venom than Mirian expected. She took a step back.

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to get you to believe me,¡± she whispered. A single tear escaped her eye, but she quickly wiped it away.

    ¡°I need¡­ I need some time to think,¡± Lily said, and abruptly, she left, leaving Mirian alone.

    Mirian put her hands in her head. There had to be some way to get people to believe her, before it was too late. If she couldn¡¯t even convince her best friend, who could she convince?

 Chapter 14 - Letters

    Lily was still out when Mirian went to sleep, and when she woke, Lily was asleep, and she didn¡¯t have the heart to wake her. She left a note saying she¡¯d gone to the library.

    Mirian had something of a plan. With her letters in her bag, she went to the front desk. ¡°Hi,¡± she said. ¡°I was trying to send a letter to my brother. He said he was summoned for duty at¡­ well, and that¡¯s the problem, I can¡¯t remember the name of the place! It¡¯s so embarrassing. He¡¯s part of the Baracuel military, and my parents said he just got a promotion so I was going to congratulate him, only, they didn¡¯t say where, so¡ª¡±

    The librarian held up a finger. ¡°I think I get the idea,¡± he said. ¡°You want the Atlas Room. Basement level one, south quadrant, room S-110.¡± The man closed his eyes briefly, then said, ¡°I think the maps you¡¯re looking for are on the wall by the door.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mirian said, smiling. Well, even though she¡¯d acted like an idiot, she felt like an idiot too. She¡¯d managed to make it five years and a quarter in the Academy and had never heard they had a map room. Of course they had map room! They had everything! She didn¡¯t even need the ridiculous cover story. It did amuse her to visualize Zayd, all of five years old right now, dressed up in full military regalia with an over-sized hat on.

    The map room was empty. That made sense. It was morning on the weekend; only total morons were up doing research. As she read labels and looked through books and rolled up maps, Mirian realized there were a bunch of geologic maps taking up a whole shelf, and an atlas entirely dedicated to documenting topography and rock layers. That was as good as an answer key for the Geoarcanology class she would take soon.

    Finally, she found the military maps. Most of them were the kind of thing historians liked¡ªmaps of battles, old maps that got things wrong, and maps of weird little kingdoms that didn¡¯t exist anymore. She found one she thought was perfect¡ªit was called Military bases of the Baracuel country¡ªbut it ended up being dated 4515, just over 300 years old. That was a strange map to see. Every town had its own fort, and Bainrose was still a military castle, not a library. Outside a few corridors and human strongholds, there was little else. Huge swathes of the map were labeled as ¡°dangerous wilderness.¡± Akana Praediar was only a small collection of colonies on the western continent.

    She rolled it back up and looked for a more recent one. Finally, she found a massive book¡ªnearly two feet wide, before it was open¡ªtitled Complete Atlas of Baracuel, and that did the trick. Military bases were included as an afterthought. The nearest one was Fort Aegrimere, near Cairnmouth. Well, that made sense, Cairnmouth was the largest nearby city, and along the river, so it was strategic or somesuch nonsense. She was sure she¡¯d heard that from a history teacher at some point. It was a bit embarrassing how little she knew of the geography in west Baracuel.

    There was another fortress near Palendurio, the First Capitol. That was even further south. Too far away from the north coast, she decided.

    She made several notes in her journal and a nice little map. There was a stronghold north of Torrviol, but it was too far east. That made sense. Farther north were the frostlands, and that stronghold no doubt kept the worst myrvite monsters from traveling south to snack on villagers. The other cities that were close were in the west corridor, so any castles or forts they had were like Bainrose¡ªnow being used for something else. So Fort Aegrimere it was.

    As for the Department of Public Security¡­ they had to be in Cairnmouth, right?

    It was off to the Royal Couriers next. She figured if the mail delivery folks were in on the conspiracy, she was screwed anyways.

    The courier office in Torrviol was south of the market. On a weekend, the market was one of the few places more crowded in Torrviol. Since it was early morning, though, the crowds hadn¡¯t showed up yet; it was mostly just merchants setting up stalls or donkey-drawn carts alongside spell engine wagons. Some people saw no reason to break from tradition. Mirian supposed the donkeys were a lot cheaper; spell engines needed fossilized myrvite, whereas donkeys just ate grass.

    The Royal Courier building had the traditional symbol of the lion above the doorway, painted orange on a white background. The couriers had a long and noble tradition they came from. Back when travel was still dangerous and myrvite beasts stalked the roads between towns, there was no job more deadly than courier. It had been the brave and relentless who traveled, and though the roads were now much safer, the profession was still honored in Baracuel. When a courier passed, it was tradition to give a short salute in their direction.

    Mirian had been to the office often to mail letters to her family. Thankfully, there was no line. ¡°How does one address a letter to a garrison commander if one does not know their name?¡± she asked the courier at the desk.

    The courier did not even consult the book. ¡°To the honored commander,¡± she said.

    ¡°And it will be delivered to them?¡±

    ¡°To their staff, most likely.¡±

    She handed the courier the first letter, addressed to ¡®The Honored Commander of Fort Aegrimere.¡¯ ¡°Expedited,¡± she said. That was an entire silver drachm, rather than five coral beadcoins. She couldn¡¯t afford it, but the fate of the Academy was at stake, so she handed the coin over. She would manage, somehow. A letter traveling by general mail might take weeks, and it would only be delivered if the subject went to the local courier¡¯s office. Expedited would assign a courier to hand it to the subject personally, if they could.

    ¡°Does the Department of Public Security have a public office in Cairnmouth?¡±

    This, the courier did look up. She hesitated. ¡°No. And I cannot guarantee they will see any letter you address to them.¡±

    Mirian thought. Who else could she write to?

    ¡°Who is the governor of Cairnmouth?¡± she asked.

    ¡°The Honored Governor Sire Willhelm Marhurst,¡± the courier said, without looking it up.

    She addressed it to him, and ordered that letter also expedited.

    The courier looked at her, but didn¡¯t say anything. They were honor-bound not to discuss correspondence, unless it was treasonous. Mirian considered telling her. But what good would it do?

    With any luck, she¡¯d just solved the crisis. Something told her it wouldn¡¯t be enough, though. What she needed¡ªwhat she really needed¡ªwas evidence. Stupid. She¡¯d given the scrolls to that maintenance guy. Well, that building was on her way back. Mirian left, and made her way there. But the building was closed and locked still.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Weird, she thought.

    She finally decided to pass the time by working on her scepter for next quarter. That involved a trip back to Bainrose, where she cracked open several books on glyphs and started making notes. Several of the glyphs she¡¯d used last time would work. In fact, most of her glyphs were based on the manipulation of kinetic energy. The soldiers had used special bullets that pierced shields, but she also needed to defend herself against some of their nastier spells. A chill ran down her spine as she remembered being dismembered by force blades. She wondered: If that was the spell the soldiers were using, was that what she should use to defend herself?

    Glyph research like this took hours, though she¡¯d done some of the work last quarter (well, no, it was next quarter). She¡¯d still have to wait to do the assembly, as she wasn¡¯t going to be getting a discount on any materials or the metal shop until after the project was assigned.

    As she diagrammed out the glyph sequences, she quickly realized she¡¯d have to add another steel ring along the shaft. But that would also simplify the device. In a fight, she¡¯d have to pay attention to one switch: One for a shield, one for an attack. She could then disable the top-most ring with another switch. Professor Torres would no doubt appreciate the attention to safety.

    The rest of the spell rod would just be useful: lift and manipulate object spells, a containment barrier for use in alchemistry, and several spells used extensively in craftwork, like phantom sandpaper and shape wood. The problem, she quickly realized, would be money. She had already spent too much on the letters. Now, Mirian realized she¡¯d need a lot more. At least five silver drachms, unless she was going to just straight up starve herself to save costs, and that seemed counterproductive. She was not going to do her best work or learning on an empty stomach. What would her father say to that?

    As a student, she wasn¡¯t licensed to practice magic professionally yet, and every person in Torrviol checked that. No one wanted to piss off the Academy, the main economic engine of the town. She could probably pick up some menial job. Or she could open up a line of credit with one of the local banks. She didn¡¯t like that, but hells, maybe the bank would forgive it if everyone found out she¡¯d saved the town from destruction? But how could she prove it?

    It all came back to evidence. She needed to figure out more about what these spies were after. She needed to figure out what else they were up to. Mirian tried to think of the books she¡¯d read about spies. Did they have a hideout? A drop-site? Did spies actually do that stuff, or was that just part of the thrillers she read in preparatory school?

    Before she went back to her dorm, she decided to visit the Kiroscent Dome.

    Mirian had been avoiding it. She didn¡¯t want to be reminded of the carnage that had taken place there, but there was no avoiding it. When she entered, she froze. The memories were still vivid. She forced herself to breathe deeply, and continued to walk.

    She repeated a mantra her mother taught her: The past is gone; it has gone through me, and I am still here. I am in the now, where I have control. The past is gone¡­.

    People were staring at her as she walked through the rotunda because she was occasionally trembling, but screw them. They could stare.

    She made it the statue of Yiaverunan. She looked up at it and wondered, Was it you that saved me? What do I do now?

    Yiaverunan was silent. The gray statue simply loomed above, hourglass, star, hammer and wheel still in her four hands. Mirian searched for answers in those symbols, and ran her hand down the polished stone. Well, what did she expect?

    She went to meet Lily for dinner.

    They had a table they normally sat at, near the edge of the dining hall. Today, the cooks had made red curry sauce that they draped over roast duck and vegetables. She got a plate, but their table was empty. She looked around for Lily, but she couldn¡¯t see her. She couldn¡¯t see anyone she knew very well at all, really. A few classmates that she recognized, but had never talked to. Making friends had always been hard for her, and it seemed harder still at the Academy. Most of the people who attended came at least from the province, but Mirian was the only one who had come from Arriroba, or anywhere near it.

    The building was beautiful, with its ornate wood ceiling and marble pillars. The atmosphere was inviting, with so many students relaxing or joking about with their friends. The food was splendid. And yet, the flavor and joy of the place was sapped away by her feelings of dejection. She was just about to leave when she saw Lily enter. Relief flooded through her. Then she saw the look on Lily¡¯s face. Mirian could tell her roommate was trying to keep it together, but she looked terrified.

    Mirian watched, concerned, as Lily got her food, then slowly made her way to the table. A group of third years was blocking the main aisle, so Lily made her way through the various scattered tables before joining Mirian.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she asked her roommate.

    Lily said, ¡°I should be asking you that. What is going on?¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Mirian asked, going cold. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Some maintenance guy finally came to properly repair the hole, except he came alone, and didn¡¯t have the tools he needed to fix it. When I told him you were out, he said ¡®give her this, then,¡¯ and gave me this letter. Well, that was creepy as the five hells, so I opened it.¡±

    She passed the letter to Mirian. The writing was in a near illegible cursive, but Mirian could just puzzle it out. It read: Sent two over to Myrvite Studies building on Fourthday. They never came back. Guards say they¡¯re looking, but are stone-mouthed about it all. Maintenance building was broken into last night. Supervisor is also missing now. Leaving town. Stay safe.

    Mirian looked at Lily. What she wanted to say, really wanted to say, was, I told you so! But she had too much sympathy for what Lily must be feeling right now, so she just explained. She kept her voice a low hush so it wouldn¡¯t carry, leaning in to tell her. ¡°There¡¯s been break-ins all across campus. I think the guards are in on it, at least some of them. You might see some strange people wearing dark clothes, hiding on rooftops or going where they¡¯re not supposed to. They¡¯re spies. I don¡¯t know what they¡¯re looking for, but it has to do with the attack I told you about. On the 28th of Solem, Akana Praediar attacks the Academy. I have to stop it. We have to stop it.¡±

    Lily sat there. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Gods, I wish I knew. The people who really need to know are the Department of Public Security. They do spy stuff.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°The Deeps. You know. Secret police and all that?¡±

    ¡°Oh, right, them,¡± Lily said. ¡°How do you contact them?¡±

    ¡°No clue,¡± Mirian replied. ¡°That¡¯s half the problem. What¡¯s supposed to happen is you tell the guards and if it¡¯s big, they tell the Crown Bureau. But if the guards are in on it and there¡¯s no Bureau in Torrviol, what do I do? And the bigger problem is I don¡¯t have anything that can prove it. Should I just flee back home?¡±

    ¡°We have classes! I need my degree, or what am I going to do?¡± Lily said. ¡°My parents would¡­ well, I would not be welcome home if I failed a quarter.¡±

    ¡°Mine would, but I¡¯d never hear the end of it. But we might have to run. I sent some letters to the military and a governor. But why would they believe me?¡±

    ¡°We need evidence,¡± Lily said, and Mirian was relieved to hear her say we, that she did believe her, at least somewhat. ¡°But¡­ how?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, and the problem is if we screw up¡­ well, I don¡¯t think anyone is going to find those maintenance people.¡±

    ¡°Mirian,¡± Lily said. ¡°What the fuck is going on?¡±

    ¡°I wish I knew,¡± she said. Part of her was glad to see Lily so spooked, because now, someone understood her. Part of her felt guilty for dragging her into it. But they were all going to get dragged into it in the end, weren¡¯t they? ¡°Keep your eyes open, and we keep trying to figure this out,¡± she said.

    Mirian looked out the window. The stained glass distorted the campus, already shrouded in the early twilight hours of autumn. In the glimmer of the glyph lamps, she could see the silhouettes of townsfolk and students wandering about the streets. As she watched, her mind wandered. ¡°Well,¡± she said, finally, ¡°I think I have an idea.¡±

 Chapter 15 - A Plan

    Step one of the plan involved starting rumors. This was something Mirian had, funnily enough, almost no experience doing. Lily was a lot better at it. On Seventh day when they visited the dining hall again for lunch, Lily joined a table with several other sixth year students.

    ¡°Hey, do any of you have maintenance requests in?¡± Lily asked.

    One of the girls at the table said, ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Okay, sorry for bothering you. It¡¯s so weird though, it¡¯s been days and nothing. And then I was talking to my friend who had one in, and he hasn¡¯t gotten his filled in a week. And then someone told him that someone killed a maintenance team and the city guards are covering it up, and I was like, there¡¯s no way that¡¯s true, that sounds like something that bearded guy who keeps ranting about end times in the Market Forum would say, so I¡¯m trying to¡­ I dunno, make sure that isn¡¯t true. Well, enjoy your meal.¡± And then she was off, before they could respond.

    ¡°Nice,¡± Mirian said as they walked away from the table. ¡°You made that look easy.¡±

    ¡°Well, it is easy. You try the next one.¡±

    They visited five tables, spread across the dining hall, trying to make the encounters seem casual. One of the tables, a fourth year boy piped up with, ¡°Wait a second, yeah! There¡¯s this broken door in the dorm and no one¡¯s fixed it in a week. Is that what¡¯s going on?¡±

    They might have been rumors, but it wasn¡¯t like they were untrue.

    ¡°So do you think it will work?¡± asked Lily as they walked back to the dorms. ¡°What even gave you the idea to do that?¡±

    ¡°No clue. There was¡­ well, this is embarrassing. There was a book I liked about a Deeps agent who had to stop a conspiracy, and if she wanted to get information out to the public, she would go to taverns in a disguise and start talking. I mean, that¡¯s got to be based on something, right?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Lily said. ¡°If everyone¡¯s talking about it, someone who can do something about it has to pick up on it, right? There¡¯s all these rich students, and some from the old nobility. If people in Torrviol are getting killed, they have the power to stir up a fuss.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I feel like I¡¯m missing something, though. Like, Archmage Luspire is in charge of the Academy, and he has to know about the break-ins. And certainly that his staff are going missing! When Platus died, they canceled classes, and there were all those announcements about safety and¡­.¡± Mirian stopped. ¡°Oh shit, that hasn¡¯t happened yet.¡±

    Lily had gone pale. ¡°When does this happen?¡±

    ¡°It was a few days before the invasion.¡± She thought. ¡°It was right before the weekend, so it must have been the 23rd of Solem. I still can¡¯t¡­ like, did he stumble on something? Why would they kill him?¡±

    Lily shook her head. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe this all. It¡¯s all so¡­ it¡¯s crazy!¡±

    ¡°Tell me about it,¡± Mirian said, and again she was glad she had her friend.

    ***

    That evening, when Mirian listened to the sermon at the Luminate Temple, she was in a different place. When she¡¯d heard it the first time, she hadn¡¯t been paying attention. She¡¯d been so focused on exams, and the flooding in her room, and had been so tired. Now, a different kind of exhaustion suffused her, but her ears were open. In the cavernous hall, amidst the tall pillars and the huge reliefs of the Gods looking down on them, she sat meditatively as the priest spoke.

    ¡°¡­and it was Ominian whose hand sheltered the people of Enteria from the Cataclysm. Not for coin. Not for worship. They demanded no price. They laid upon the people no debt. When the prophets asked why, Ominian said, with Their dying breath: ¡®You are of life. The cycle of souls is sacred to Us, as it should be to you.¡¯ We must remember this, and remember Their sacrifice. For it was Ominian¡¯s body that shielded us. Though many died, some live, and here, we must remember another lesson. As They bore Their heart to Enteria, we must remember the tides of heavens are not a simple stream, but full of riddles and currents that we may never fully understand¡­.¡±

    As the priest spoke, he approached and put his hand on the statue of Ominian behind the altar. The God looked ominous in the flickering candlelight, looming above the congregation. No two statues of the God were quite the same, and the one here in Torrviol looked very different than the one in Mirian¡¯s temple back in Arriroba. Some features were the same, though. Ominian was always depicted with a crown of burning laurels, sitting upon a throne, Their chest split open so the heart was visible. Unlike her home temple, the statue here had several knives sticking out of the God¡¯s torso. The last knife pierced Their hand, which was raised, palm up, as if to ward away something. The stone of the statue was marble, and as Mirian looked on it, she got the strange sense of recognition. The black, white, and pink stone was full of swirls and whorls that reminded her of eyes.

    The priest¡¯s sermon continued. Sacrifice and the unknowable figured prominently, but the one that most resonated with her was the code of ethics: Doing what was right, because it was right, and no other reason. That was the code that her mother and father had instilled in her. It was what drove her now. The easy thing to do would be to flee, she knew. She still might have to resort to that.

    Why did you choose me? she wondered, and looked around the chamber. From every wall, Gods looked down, part statue and part relief so that it looked like they were emerging from the solid stone. Which one had seen fit to give her a second chance? And why? What did they see in her?

    She had never thought of herself as particularly worthy of anything. She worked hard, and tried to do what was right. The sermon ended, but she stayed seated, lost in thought, until the thin sunlight bleeding through the windows began to dim, and the shadows in the temple grew even deeper.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ***

    The next morning, Mirian found to her surprise that the Myrvite Ecology exam had changed. This one was all about decomposition and scarce resources, though it had the same basic format as last time. Again, Professor Viridian had rings around his eyes, and Mirian could see his exhaustion. Midway through the exam, she looked up, and saw that Valen was looking at her from across the room.

    Creepy, Mirian thought. She narrowed her eyes, and for once the girl actually had the decency to blush before she looked back to her exam and got to work.

    Distracted, Mirian considered her plan. She decided that as aggravating as Valen was, she needed her. After all, she was the only person she knew of who had actually seen one of the cloaked figures running about.

    After class, Mirian waited until the other students left, then went up to Viridian. ¡°Professor? I know the quarter is over now, but could I meet with you during your office hours?¡±

    Without looking at her, Viridian said, ¡°Unfortunately, I¡¯ve just become quite busy recently,¡± and nodded at the pile of exams on his desk. ¡°And, after all, what¡¯s done is done.¡± It was not his typical warm response.

    Mirian chewed on her lip, then worked up the courage to say what she had planned to say. ¡°Well, if I may¡­ I think you¡¯ll want to hear what I have to say. If I¡¯m right, it¡¯s related to why you¡¯re so tired.¡±

    To his credit, Professor Viridian displayed no surprise at this strange comment, though he did turn his gaze to Mirian. He didn¡¯t say anything for some time, but just as Mirian was about to give in to the urge to apologize and run out of the room, he said, ¡°Four o¡¯clock, I¡¯ll be in my office.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± Mirian said, and hastily walked out of the room.

    She damn near smacked right into Valen.

    ¡°Gods! What are you doing?¡± Mirian snapped. She¡¯d wanted to talk to Valen, but she hadn¡¯t expected to find her just outside the door waiting in ambush.

    The shorter girl looked up at her with those intense blue eyes of hers and tucked a lose strand of her dirty blond hair behind her ear. Instead of apologizing, like a normal person, she asked ¡°What were you talking to him about?¡±

    ¡°Why is it any of your business?¡± Mirian replied. ¡°I need to get to my next exam.¡±

    Valen followed her down the stairs. ¡°You have a half-hour. You¡¯ll get there on time.¡±

    ¡°You already know what it¡¯s about.¡± Instead of going to the first floor, she opened the door to the second. She stepped into one of the empty classrooms, and looked out the window. Here, the windows all looked to the inner part of the former arena where the myrvite gardens bloomed in one half, and the cages of the myrvite beasts they studied here were in the more distant half. Mirian opened one of the latched windows. She had a hunch. As soon as the window was open, she knew she was right. ¡°Do you hear that?¡±

    Normally, one could hear the little cockatrice calling out like chickens, or the wyvern¡¯s shrill call.

    ¡°No.¡± Valen paused. ¡°Alright, I see your point. So you think that guy¡­?¡± Well, one could accuse Valen of a lot of things, but Mirian couldn¡¯t accuse her of being stupid.

    ¡°You saw him too. And you saw what Viridian looks like right now. I need you to back me up, because this is all bigger than you think it is.¡±

    Valen raised an eyebrow. ¡°Bigger than a massive break-in to the Academy that no one seems to be talking about?¡±

    ¡°Why do you think no one¡¯s talking about it?¡±

    ¡°So what else did you find out?¡±

    Mirian hesitated. Well, she knew Valen and Viridian both could be trusted. After all, they¡¯d all died together in that rotunda beneath the dome. At least, both could be trusted not to be in league with the Akanans. ¡°The guy who was going to repair the leak in my dorm told me they found a scroll written in Eskanar with information about the break-ins. They figured out where the next one was going to be, so some maintenance guys tried to stop the break-in and went missing. So if you¡¯re thinking I¡¯ve lost it, stop by maintenance, and try to figure out why the entire building is closed.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s how you knew,¡± Valen said.

    ¡°That, and I¡¯d seen one creeping about on the roofs between classes. And the guards didn¡¯t care at all.¡± Mirian tried to think of an example of what a normal response to a crisis at the Academy was that wasn¡¯t in the future. ¡°Remember¡­ it would have been our second year, and some students went missing in the Mage¡¯s Grove? It was in the Torrviol Broadsheet, everyone was talking about it, and they printed fliers of their faces.¡± Torrviol only had the one local newspaper.

    Valen chuckled. ¡°Turns out, they¡¯d just been smuggling alcohol and partying out there. Archmage Luspire was so furious at them.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. That was way smaller than this. And yet¡­.¡±

    ¡°I get it,¡± Valen said. ¡°Funnily enough, you¡¯re not the first person I¡¯ve heard this from.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Mirian said, but in her head she was thinking well of course Valen has her finger on the crank of the rumor mill.

    ¡°Oh shut up, you heard the rumor too, that¡¯s why you finally decided to talk to Viridian. Why else would you wait?¡±

    Mirian inwardly cursed herself. How the hells was Valen so good at picking up when she was lying? It was a good thing she¡¯d never tried to play cards against her. But, fortune had favored her. Enough of it had been convincing, and her story lined up. ¡°So you¡¯ll come?¡±

    Valen hesitated. ¡°Okay. Yeah. When is it?¡±

    ¡°Four o¡¯clock today.¡± Mirian closed the window, while Valen walked back out the classroom door. She turned and stopped when Mirian said, ¡°Oh, and Valen? Thank you.¡±

    Her psuedo-nemesis seemed as surprised as Mirian did by the gratitude. But it felt right to offer it. ¡°Yeah. Of course.¡± Then she left. Maybe after this Valen would stop being a jerk to her.

    The math exam was considerably easier without sleep deprivation. It was also earlier in the day, so she was that much more alert. As before, it did make several students cry, but Mirian felt good about the whole thing as she turned it in. She still had no idea what the last few questions were about. She¡¯d have to look through her notebook, because she was pretty sure Professor Jei had never covered them. Still, she thought she did better; she¡¯d never actually gotten the results back on this exam before the attack had come.

    Mirian had time for lunch at one of the nearby cafes. As she ate, she kept looking out the windows, looking for any suspicious figures traversing the rooftops, or people skulking about. Of course, it was another dreary, cold day, so all the dark cloaks would have made them blend right in to the crowds.

    She stopped by the library and worked on her spellrod design for a few hours, paging through various arcane design books, writing notes on various glyph-combinations. The work required near encyclopedic knowledge of the various glyphs. As she read, she became more and more impressed by the unnamed Persaman who¡¯d made the spellrod Professor Torres would be displaying to the class in a few days. Static glyphs only ever did the same thing, no matter where they were placed in a spell. There were actually only a few static glyphs, they were just used in spells all the time because they were so useful. Then there were flux glyphs, of which there were thousands. Each one of those glyphs changed function depending on what the glyphs previous to it in the spell were. Some of the glyphs even changed function depending on what glyphs came after it, which didn¡¯t make any sense to Mirian.

    She was glad there was already a huge list of combinations and several theoretical frameworks to work from. She hadn¡¯t the slightest idea how ancient people had managed to figure out how all this stuff worked.

    Several hours later, she made her way to Professor Viridian¡¯s office.

 Chapter 16 - New Quarter, Again

    Mirian didn¡¯t have to wait long in the Myrvite Studies building before Valen met her in the hallway.

    ¡°Did you go by maintenance?¡± Mirian asked.

    She nodded.

    Mirian accepted that as good enough and went to Viridian¡¯s door and knocked. They heard Viridian¡¯s muffled ¡°come in,¡± and entered.

    ¡°Hi, sir. I brought a classmate, if that¡¯s okay. She saw what I saw. Or at least, one of the incidents.¡± Mirian then recoiled as she saw Viridian¡¯s office. The place was a mess. Papers were scattered everywhere, cabinets torn apart with the drawers still out, and pieces of furniture knocked over. Supplies and books were in haphazard piles, and it looked like Viridian had only begun to clean. Plenty of the books had pages torn out. ¡°Holy Gods,¡± Mirian said. It was horrible to look at. All her life, she¡¯d been told to treat people and property with respect. Seeing the books that had been split open or torn apart made her especially distraught. There were things you just didn¡¯t do, and damaging books was one of those things.

    Viridian maintained his composure. She supposed he¡¯d had some time to digest it all. Viridian had only uprighted one of the chairs for her to sit on, so Mirian awkwardly picked up another chair that was buried in a pile of papers and books and offered it to Valen.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°Well, you said you know something about it all,¡± Viridian said calmly. ¡°So hopefully, you can tell me.¡±

    Mirian told him what she knew, sticking to the same basic story she¡¯d told Valen. There was no point in trying to convince them about the time travel.

    When she was done, Professor Viridian went and stood to look out the window, his hands clasped behind his back, saying nothing.

    Mirian had thought about what she might say to Professor Viridian, but most of it went flying out of her head. She blurted out the lie she¡¯d prepared. ¡°I have a friend who¡¯s in Fort Aegrimere. He said there¡¯s weird stuff happening. Strange ships sighted along the north coast. The officers are tight lipped, but something¡¯s going on. If these are Akanan Praediar spies¡­.¡±

    Professor Viridian gave a loud sigh. ¡°Things are bad enough, Mirian. Please don¡¯t catastrophize.¡±

    ¡°Then what is it? What in the hells is going on here? I mean, someone ransacked your office and did something to the myrvites.¡±

    When Viridian raised an eyebrow at that last part, Valen said, ¡°You can¡¯t hear them anymore. The wyverns are really loud. I used to like listening to their calls during lunch.¡±

    Viridian seemed to accept this explanation. ¡°I¡¯ll bring what you told me to the attention of the Academy,¡± he said. ¡°May I mention your names?¡±

    ¡°Will we be safe if you do?¡±

    Professor Viridian didn¡¯t have anything to say to that. He turned back to the window. ¡°I¡¯ll keep your names anonymous, then.¡±

    Mirian opened her mouth to speak, but it was Valen who spoke next. ¡°Is that it, then? Is there anything we can do?¡±

    Viridian turned and gave them a sad smile. ¡°I apologize. I must seem quite insensitive to you. But when you get as old as I am, you might understand better. The world is a complex thing, and the strange politics of the Academy and Baracuel leak everywhere in something far more volatile and unpredictable than any ecosystem we studied together. I have been working all my life to pull the levers of change on the strange mechanism we call civilization, to no avail. I don¡¯t fully understand what is happening, but I assure you, you need not worry. This has everything to do with petty greed. Much is buried beneath Torriviol, and this too will be interred into the ground.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Valen said. ¡°I get it.¡±

    You do? Mirian thought. She was more confused than ever.

    ¡°Good luck,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry this happened to you. And¡­ well, I hope the wyverns are alright. Come on, Mirian.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Viridian said. ¡°And best of luck in your studies.¡±

    Mirian wasn¡¯t quite ready to leave, they¡¯d barely said anything, but Valen was insistently pulling on her arm, and Viridian had clearly indicated the conversation was over.

    When they were down the hall and out of earshot, Mirian hissed, ¡°You can let go of my arm now. You understand? He just said a bunch of fancy words about how everything is complex! That doesn¡¯t answer anything!¡±

    ¡°He said he doesn¡¯t know what¡¯s going on and he doesn¡¯t think telling us what he does know will change anything. You know from his perspective we¡¯re just two sixth-years that can¡¯t be trusted, right?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m trustworthy!¡±

    Valen rolled her eyes. ¡°Gods but you¡¯re thick sometimes. What was that nonsense about Akana Praediar invading?¡±

    ¡°Another rumor going around. I heard from the base¡ª¡±

    ¡°No you didn¡¯t, because I actually have an older brother at Fort Aegrimere. He likes gossip even more than I do, and he¡¯s heard nothing. You¡¯re full of shit, Mirian. What¡¯s gotten into you?¡±

    ¡°Oh, because you know me so well,¡± she snapped. ¡°Has staring at me during exams given you this great insight?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re avoiding the topic. What¡¯s actually going on?¡±

    Mirian made an exasperated noise that sounded like it should have come from a horse more than a person. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t believe me if I told you. And I can¡¯t prove any of it, so it doesn¡¯t matter.¡±

    ¡°Try me,¡± Valen demanded. She was trying to make herself tall again, but it never worked. She was just too short to be intimidating.

    Mirian wanted to tell her, just to prove to Valen that what had happened to her was unbelievable that she was right, but she restrained herself. Her current plan depended on as many people hearing about the spies in Torrviol as possible and forcing the people with power to act. Then the Deeps or the Crown Bureau would hear about it and realize there was an imminent invasion. But maybe there was a shortcut. ¡°Does anyone patrol the north coast?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re avoiding the question.¡±

    ¡°Answer mine first.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°Of course not! Why would anyone patrol anywhere along the Rift Sea? There¡¯s no pirates, no conflict. If you¡¯re worried about a ship crossing it, you can simply watch carefully on a clear day and watch it land in Akana Praediar yourself. With a good telescope, you might even see the dock workers unloading the ship! Sending people north would just be asking them to get attacked by myrvites. Sending ships north would just lead to ice-krakens attacking them.¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s the perfect place to launch a sneak attack.¡±

    ¡°But why would¡­ wait, you think Akana Praediar is going to attack Baracuel? That it¡¯s not just another crime syndicate?¡± Valen made a face.

    ¡°That¡¯s the problem with it all. It is ridiculous, of course I know it¡¯s ridiculous. And yet, with absolute certainty, I can tell you it¡¯s going to happen if something big doesn¡¯t change. What would it take to get the military to send patrols north?¡± Mirian had no idea what the ¡®crime syndicates¡¯ were, but she wasn¡¯t about to admit that to Valen.

    The other girl let out a guffaw. ¡°Any sort of indication. A military buildup. A diplomatic incident. Literally anything. Let me get this straight: You read a scroll in Eskanar and assumed that it meant some criminal mischief was the precursor to a war? I can¡¯t even count all the ways that doesn¡¯t make sense. Akana and Baracuel are in the process of joint operations in both Persama and Zhighua, and it¡¯s Akana that¡¯s thinking of withdrawing. Do you even pay attention to politics at all?¡±

    The answer to that last question was a resounding no, but Mirian ignored the jibe and with icy coldness said, ¡°I assumed nothing. I watched it happen.¡± She hadn¡¯t meant to. Now, Valen was no doubt going to start a rumor that she was a Gods-touched lunatic. Which, she realized, might actually be true.

    Valen gave her a funny look. ¡°You really believe what you¡¯re saying?¡±

    ¡°Tell your brother to look north. The attack is on the 28th of Solem, which means it must land several days before that. And no, as I said, I can¡¯t prove any of it.¡± Mirian left.

    When she got back to the dorm, Lily looked up from her textbooks and asked, ¡°Did it work?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. Probably not. I don¡¯t know. I accidentally included Valen in the plot because she also saw the cloaked person, so if you hear a rumor going around saying I¡¯ve lost my marbles, one, it¡¯s probably true, and two, it¡¯s her fault. Ugh.¡±

    Lily squinted at her. ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve heard you talk about Valen before. You¡­ don¡¯t like her?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not having this conversation again,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°What? Again?¡±

    ¡°Oh Gods, right. We didn¡¯t have it, because I didn¡¯t duel her on the¡­.¡± Mirian let out a big sigh. ¡°She¡¯s annoying and spreads rumors about me, but is also strangely perceptive. Sometimes. You want to go for a walk in the Mage¡¯s Grove? I don¡¯t think the Akanan scouts are hiding there yet. We can talk about¡­ normal stuff. I think I¡¯d like that.¡±

    Lily grimaced at the pile of books in front of her. ¡°Yeah, I could use a break from this. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    ***

    Mirian spent the next day split between studying and relaxing. This time, she wanted to be better prepared for Spell Engine Alchemistry. Belatedly, she realized she should try to meet either Nicolus or Xipuatl and get in on their study sessions again. If all went well, it would be worth it after the impending disaster was over. Also, they were both in the nobility. If anyone had the connections to stir up a fuss and get politicians and generals to move, it was those two.

    Thirdday, during registration, Mirian had the strangest sense of deja vu. It was sort of silly; this was only one of countless moments that were similar to what she¡¯d already experienced. But something about it stood out. Here was a moment where Mirian could change something easily. With a single stroke of her pen, she could change her fate.

    Well, most of it. It seemed fate wanted her to take Professor Eld¡¯s class again, because somehow the other sections were full, even though this time she¡¯d arrived even earlier to avoid that. Well, whatever. She ended up taking the same classes. Even though Atger was a terrible professor, she needed that class to graduate. She had to plan for there being a future. Or else, what was the point?

    The rest of the break she spent studying, except for a few brief outings to pick up newspapers. Each one cost her three coral beadcoins, which hit her already dwindling finances harder than she would have liked. The papers also ended up being practically useless. There was nothing at all about worsening relationships between Baracuel and Akana Praediar. In fact, the only article she could find on foreign relations was on some revolt on the border in Persama being successfully suppressed, and that was a joint effort of the two nations'' alliance.

    With the extra costs added to what she would need to spend to build her spellrod, finances were becoming a concern. She ended up opening up a line of credit at the Tower¡¯s Trust bank for ten silver drachms and signed the promissory note feeling dejected about it all. Her parents had worked hard to keep her out of debt, but she told herself it was for a good cause.

    At this point, she¡¯d finished her spellrod plan, so she dedicated the next four days of her focus to alchemistry. If she already had pages of notes and had read the textbook for the quarter, Nicolus and Xipuatl would see her value. It felt annoyingly transactional, but that was how the world worked sometimes. At this point, she didn¡¯t want to do her usual runs in the Mage¡¯s Grove anyways. She wasn¡¯t quite sure when Akanan scouts started hiding about in the bushes there, but she didn¡¯t want to find out the hard way. She¡¯d been given this second chance; she wasn¡¯t going to squander it.

    It snowed the day the second quarter began, as it had. She enjoyed it, even though this time she knew it wouldn¡¯t last long.

    Artifice Design went about the same as it had. She couldn¡¯t remember exactly what Professor Torres had said, but she was fairly certain there were some changes. The important thing was the spellrod project remained the same. That was a relief.

    Professor Eld was as abrasive as ever in Spellbook Enchantments. He started off with a rant about how soft students were these days, and how at their age his grandfather had to defend the farm from myrvite predators with a bow and arrow, which, neat, but Mirian wasn¡¯t sure what in the five hells that had to do with glyph production. This time, she was sure the lecture had changed. Some of the rants he went off on were definitely different.

    It was the third class Mirian paid the most attention to. She had to make sure to sit next to either Nicolus or Xipuatl. She wasn¡¯t sure who the best bet was. On one hand, she might just have to make sure Nicolus saw her notebook. On the other hand, there was that gaggle of girls¡ªand a few boys¡ªwho were constantly vying for his attention. She envied his resources, but certainly not that.

    Xipuatl, though, had a family that was not so prominent, nor as rich. No one would be dueling each other to sit next to him. But it might take more to pique his interest. She¡¯d thought that part through, and was looking around. As people trickled in, she lingered at the back of the lecture hall, pretending to page through her notebook.

    In the end, Xipuatl¡¯s darker skin made him easier to find. One disadvantage of the uniforms at the Academy was everyone ended up looking somewhat the same, though Nicolus was tall enough to stand out. She was pretty sure he hadn¡¯t even shown up yet.

    As Xipuatl went down the second aisle, she followed him, trying to be casual as she also followed him along the fourth row. When she sat next to him, he gave her an odd look. There were, after all, several other seats nearby. She pretended to ignore him, and opened up her notes. Well, it was a good thing this wasn¡¯t Spycraft 101 because she would have been failed on the spot for conspicuousness, but it had done the trick.

    Mirian waited until Professor Atger had gone through the first part of his lecture before she leaned over to him and whispered, ¡°Isn¡¯t this all just the first chapter of the textbook?¡±

    Xipuatl made a face and whispered back, ¡°Yuuuup. Glad my tuition is funding this clown.¡±

    For the rest of class, Mirian made a point to keeping her notebook open, not writing, but just keeping it on the page where she already had the contents of the lecture. As the lecture wrapped up, she said, ¡°Well, this class is going to be a joke. He didn¡¯t even cover patinate mana buildup on spell engines, and that is in chapter one. Hey, you seem to have your head on straight. Do you want to make a study group for this class?¡±

    Xipuatl hesitated. ¡°I¡¯m already in one, actually.¡±

    ¡°That fast? Wow. Does Atger have a reputation I didn¡¯t know about? You mind if I join?¡±

    ¡°Uhh¡­ maybe. The other guy is¡­ picky? That¡¯s not the right word. An asshole about it? No, that¡¯s not quite the right word either.¡±

    ¡°All I care about is he and you know their stuff and take it seriously. If you hadn¡¯t implied you also read the textbook before classes started, I wouldn¡¯t still be talking to you. Let me know,¡± she said, and got up to leave.

    ¡°Look, it¡¯s Nicolus,¡± he said, as if that explained everything.

    Well, it did, but Mirian gave a quizzical, ¡°Who?¡±

    That actually got a laugh out of Xipuatl. ¡°You know what? You¡¯re in. I¡¯ll deal with Nicolus if he makes noise about it.¡± Then he told her when and where to meet, which she already knew.

    Well, she thought. That was easy.

 Chapter 17 - Preparations

    The rest of the day went about the same as it had. Geoarcanology reminded her she needed to go look up those maps she¡¯d found in Bainrose again, and Artifice Physics was the same combination of high philosophy and practical arcane physics it had been the first time.

    She kept her eyes open during lunch and between classes, looking for any sign of the spies. Nothing.

    Valen hadn¡¯t said anything to her in Artifice Design. Though she hadn¡¯t left her name with the Couriers, she¡¯d checked a few times to see if the governor or commander of Fort Aegrimere had sent any sort of reply. Of course not. And she¡¯d heard nothing from Viridian of course.

    Mirian had heard the rumor she started once or twice, though it had morphed. Now the guards were part of a secret crime syndicate that was running Torrviol, and they¡¯d murdered one of the deans, though no one could say which one. Was that Valen¡¯s work? Or just the natural tendency of rumor to morph into unrecognizable nonsense?

    That meant she had basically two ideas left: One was to run around in the streets yelling that the Akanans were coming to kill them all. She was sure that would go over well. The other was Nicolus. He knew people. The problem was, he also knew that everyone was trying to manipulate him because he had power. Or they just thought he was handsome.

    Classes went well on Secondday. Then, it was time for the next study session. First study session you¡¯ve been to, she reminded herself.

    She didn¡¯t bother making a show of not knowing which room to go to. No one was looking for that kind of thing, so what was the point. When she opened the door to room, though, it was just Sire Nurea.

    ¡°Oh, sorry¡­ am I in the wrong room? I¡¯m looking for Xipuatl and his friend.¡±

    That got a raised eyebrow from Nurea. ¡°You¡¯re in the right room. I¡¯m Sire Nurea March. I serve the family of Sacristar. And therefore, Nicolus.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Mirian said. ¡°So¡­ he¡¯s a big deal?¡±

    Nurea muttered, ¡°He¡¯d certainly like everyone to think that, wouldn¡¯t he?¡±

    They chatted amicably, with Mirian relearning all the things she¡¯d learned about Nurea so she wouldn¡¯t have to try to remember what she knew and didn¡¯t know.

    Finally, Nicolus and Xipuatl showed up. ¡°It¡¯s not on the shelves,¡± Nicolus said as he dropped the three other textbooks he was carrying onto the table. ¡°Someone already checked it¡­ oh, there it is, on the table. Nurea, did you¡­?¡±

    ¡°She did,¡± Nurea said, nodding toward Mirian.

    Mirian looked at the copy of Spell Engine Tolerances and Mana Flow Maintenance, Revised Edition in front of her. She¡¯d forgotten that they hadn¡¯t even assigned each other books to study and report on yet, and she¡¯d just picked up the one she¡¯d done last time without thinking. ¡°Oh. Sorry, I¡­ thought it¡¯d be useful.¡±

    ¡°Well! It just means you¡¯re prepared. I¡¯m Nicolus, by the way.¡± He held out his hand, which Mirian shook. There was a sort of perfection to his handshake that was downright suspicious. Mirian suspected he¡¯d practiced it far more than he would ever admit to.

    ¡°Mirian,¡± she said.

    Then they got right to work. After all, when they weren¡¯t bickering, both the boys were quite studious. After they divided the readings up again, Mirian sat back and made her move. ¡°So have you heard about all the weird stuff going on in Torrviol?¡± she asked.

    Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Nurea get very still.

    ¡°Yeah, something about break-ins?¡± Xipuatl said. ¡°Seems weird they haven¡¯t caught them yet.¡±

    ¡°Is there any basis to it?¡± Nicolus asked. ¡°Last year it was going around that a group of bandits was ambushing people on the road, and it just turned out that some first year had seen a military patrol on their way to the Frostland¡¯s Gate stronghold and didn¡¯t realize they wore fur coats over their uniforms in the winter. He was from one of the southern cities and had just never seen patrols. Or snow, for that matter.¡± He laughed.

    ¡°I thought it was nonsense, but I¡¯ve had a maintenance issue for like two weeks now and they just¡­ never showed up. The office is closed. And I heard two of them went missing.¡± Mirian leaned in close, then whispered, ¡°I even saw someone skulking about on the roof, wearing all black.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Nicolus said. ¡°Hmm.¡± He looked over at Nurea, though he didn¡¯t say anything to her.

    ¡°It¡¯s weird that the Academy has been totally silent on it too. Like, remember when Pl¡ª¡± Mirian stopped herself. She had been about to say ¡®remember when Platus died,¡¯ which hadn¡¯t happened yet. ¡°¡ªwhen those students went missing briefly in the Mage¡¯s Grove?¡±

    ¡°Maybe they¡¯ve looked into it and it¡¯s nothing. They¡¯re probably being more cautious now so that they don¡¯t look like fools, like they did last time,¡± Xipuatl said.

    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s one of the syndicates?¡± Nicolus asked.

    ¡°This is going to sound stupid but¡­ what are the syndicates? I heard someone else mention them.¡±

    ¡°Organized crime groups,¡± Xipuatl said. ¡°Usually they smuggle dangerous magichemicals to evade taxes or regulations on them. Some move drugs around, or smuggle alcohol. Certain gangs might get into power in a city and run a protection racket, or otherwise squeeze money out of a corrupt local government. The Syndicates are all over Baracuel, vying for territory and power. Occasionally, the Crown Bureau will stamp a group out, execute a bunch or throw them in a prison, but that usually just means a rival moves in a few years later and the cycle starts again. The Syndicates usually stick to the big cities, though. Small towns just don¡¯t have enough money running through them to be worth it.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t really have that out east,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s more of a west-Baracuel thing. They¡¯re mostly descended from old guilds that got overthrown and went underground, warped by a few hundred years of historical circumstance. Then they got used in the Unification Wars and had some legitimacy, then after the wars they were outlawed again. Except¡­¡±¡ªNicolus glanced at Nurea again¡ª¡°some of the noble families work with them. No one ever admits to it, of course, but it¡¯s how a Syndicate can get their hands on the levers of power. So they become another board game piece to move around in the halls of power.¡±

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.¡°Why not make them legal, if everyone is using it? Then they don¡¯t risk getting caught,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°If the Syndicate is illegal, it means the person controlling them always has leverage over them. They can always expose them to arrest. And they use the Syndicates for doing the kind of shady stuff that would get a corporation¡¯s crown charter revoked,¡± Xipuatl said.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Mirian said. ¡°That is not what we were taught in history class.¡±

    Nicolus laughed at that. ¡°You get a very different education in Baracuel if you¡¯re expected to hold power. You have to know how things actually work, or you¡¯ll be made a fool.¡±

    Mirian frowned. Anyone was supposed to be able to hold power in Baracuel. It was a republic. They had elections and everything. That meant everyone was supposed to know how it worked, because they either were going to be an official or a voter. That¡¯s why she¡¯d had to take civics class in secondary school! She also realized the conversation hadn¡¯t gone the direction she intended. ¡°Do the Syndicates ever work with other countries?¡±

    Nicolus said ¡°No¡± at the exact same time Xipuatl said ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Okay, which is it?¡±

    It was Sire Nurea who answered. ¡°It¡¯s the wrong question to ask. Power doesn¡¯t care about the borders of a nation.¡±

    ¡°Huh,¡± said Mirian, not at all sure she understood. But she had an agenda to push, damnit! ¡°Okay so¡­ what if that is all going on? How does someone put a stop to it? I don¡¯t really want Syndicates running around kidnapping or killing people in Torrviol.¡±

    ¡°That depends on how much you want to stick your neck out. If innocent people are going missing¡­.¡± Nicolus looked again at Nurea. ¡°It also depends on who¡¯s pulling the strings. It doesn¡¯t quite make sense that they¡¯re making a big splash, usually you want to keep a smuggling operation quiet. Torrviol is known for myrvite organ smuggling, and not really anything else.¡±

    ¡°It is!?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°Maybe something¡¯s changed,¡± Nicolus said, ignoring her. This time, when he looked at Nurea, he raised his eyebrows.

    ¡°I¡¯ll look into it,¡± Nurea said, and she said it in this casual way that felt like she was unsheathing a rapier. It gave Mirian chills. It also was exactly what she was hoping might happen.

    ***

    It seemed to Mirian that an atmosphere of tension permeated Torrviol. She continued to mention rumors to anyone it seemed convenient to.

    ¡°Did you hear someone said they saw Akanan soldiers in the towns west of here? It sounds ridiculous, I think people will believe anything they hear these days,¡± she told one boy after class.

    To a girl the next day, she mentioned, ¡°Someone told me they saw a guard harassing the staff of the Academy, but Archmage Luspire won¡¯t do anything about it. What a world!¡±

    Whenever small talk left an opening, Mirian did her best to sneak in a strategic comment. All the while, she tried to keep a low profile and listen. Now that her class in Artifice Design gave her free use of the shops and discounts on materials, she also spent a great deal of time in the metal shop and the spellforge. With any luck, her spellrod would actually turn out well, and she could add it to her prized possessions. A few times, she caught other students in the shop peering at her curiously, then looking away when they realized she noticed them. Well, they hopefully were admiring her skill, rather than wondering what in the hells she was doing.

    In the evenings, she helped Lily with Alchemistry by explaining the learning schema framework she was using, and Lily showed her some of the enhanced spells she was practicing.

    On the Fourthday meeting with Nicolus and Xipuatl, she didn¡¯t mention the spies or the Akanan attack. She figured it would be a bit weird if she kept bringing it up. Instead, the two of them rehashed the argument about Xipuatl¡¯s idea that Tlaxhuaco druid magic would change the theoretical frameworks used in Baracuel and again let his disdain for fossilized myrvite and spell engines be known.

    Fifthday, after classes, when Mirian went dueling, she saw Selesia again. This time, she didn¡¯t wait until all her bouts were over. She went over to the fourth year and sat down next to her, which made Selesia¡¯s eyes go wide. ¡°Oh, hi Mirian,¡± she said, then blushed.

    Not even I can be thick enough to miss that, Mirian thought. ¡°Enjoying the bouts?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re fun to watch. I mean¡­ I was even thinking¡­ well it¡¯s silly, never mind.¡±

    ¡°No, tell me,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°It looks fun, so I was thinking of learning dueling too. There¡¯s a beginner¡¯s room, right?¡± So that¡¯s where she had gone off to the first time, Mirian realized.

    ¡°Yeah. But it¡¯s¡­ uh¡­ hey, I¡¯ve got an idea. I can show you the basics. We can use one of the practice rooms, I doubt anyone¡¯s using them.¡±

    ¡°Really? I mean, don¡¯t you have your bouts?¡±

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve fought them all before, I sorta know how each duel will go. It¡¯s fine, let me just go tell the judge to cancel me in the rotation.¡±

    First, they checked out a duelist¡¯s jacket and rapier for Selesia. Finding a practice room was easy, they were all empty. Each practice room had a half-circle floor instead of a full circle, a little area for equipment, and a single arched window looking out onto Torrviol. Mirian hit a glyph by the door so that the glyph lights in the room lit up.

    ¡°First, there¡¯s the stance. Your feet go like this,¡± Mirian said, demonstrating the even spacing and slight crouch. ¡°The point is to be able to move back and forth fast, and keep your torso small. Feet farther apart. There you go,¡± she told Selesia. ¡°Now your back should be straight¡­.¡±

    At first, Selesia¡¯s form was terrible. Mirian eventually just started adjusting her position with her hands, moving her shoulders back or a leg forward, or guiding her to show how the footwork was supposed to go. Then she realized Selesia blushed every time she did this, and felt strange about it herself. She¡¯d screwed it up the first time, and they¡¯d never talked after that. Now, she had this second chance.

    For a few hours, Mirian showed her the parries and attacks, and they practiced a few times. It took Selesia a few rounds not to be terrified of the blade, but when Mirian showed her that the magnetic repulsion enchantments on them made it basically impossible to hurt someone, she relaxed. It was nice spending time with her. Selesia was a kind person, and Mirian enjoyed teaching her. She found herself smiling a lot as they practiced.

    After awhile, Selesia said, ¡°Alright, I¡¯m way too tired. It looks a lot easier, you know, when you¡¯re just watching.¡±

    Mirian laughed. ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s head over to one of the fountains.¡±

    Stygalta Arena had several small courtyards with large fountains in them for people to drink from, and also just sit by and watch. Special light glyphs had been placed in the fountain to make it look like the waters glowed, illumining the stone courtyard and casting it about in soothing shadows. Above, the night sky glistened. Heat enchantments in the stone benches kept them warm and free of snow, so as they sat, it warded away the winter chill.

    ¡°So what¡¯s Akana Praediar like?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°A lot like here,¡± Selesia said. ¡°There¡¯s a different culture, though. Akanans are obsessed with money and competition. And even on the holidays, they don¡¯t like to relax. Life is slower here. I like that.¡±

    ¡°Hm. I never feel quite like I can relax. There¡¯s always more to do. Books to study. Spells to practice. Glyphs to learn. I have to remind myself to take time off, or I push myself too hard.¡±

    ¡°You seem very driven.¡±

    ¡°Do I? I feel mediocre. Average. Worse, really, because I put in all this effort and barely get the same result as anyone.¡±

    Selesia looked sad. ¡°Is that how you see yourself?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to¡­ that¡¯s probably too much sharing,¡± she said.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be so hard on yourself. You seem smart to me,¡± Selesia said. ¡°And, uh, athletic. Thanks for¡­ showing me some stuff.¡±

    ¡°Ah, of course. It was nice spending the evening with you. We should spend some more time together.¡± Mirian didn¡¯t know what to say after that. Akana Praediar attacked the Academy in twelve days. Did she tell her that? Mirian didn¡¯t think anything she¡¯d done was going to stop it. ¡°Next Fifthday. Same time and place? And then we can go get dinner,¡± she said. Maybe by then she¡¯d work up the courage to say something.

    Selesia smiled. ¡°I¡¯d like that, Mirian.¡±

    Mirian liked when she said her name. Something about it made her smile too. ¡°Until then, Selesia,¡± she said.

    On the walk home, Mirian admired the Divir moon, that steady light above them, shining in the clear, cold sky.

    That night, the strange dreams returned.

 Chapter 18 - Predictions

    In the dream, there was nothing to hold on to. Indescribable colors burst around her, shifting formlessly. They seemed to writhe about, lunging out to snap at her. Eventually, they did become things she could understand. The colors and shapes coalesced into a volcano, the lava slithering down the slopes, hardening into a rock that was full of blinking eyes that stared at her. The rock turned from dark gray to yellow, and it became a slime mold, marching across a log, only when it approached, it stopped and all the yellow mush rose up like hairs and turned toward her. Then, the stalks grew up, turning brown and green as it became a colossal tree, bursting high above the canopy, though the rough brown of the bark and smooth greens of the leaves slid all around the tree, as if it could not understand that the green should stay on the leaves and the brown on the trunk and branches. It was all mixed together, and then white blossoms erupted across the branches, except each petal was a bloodied wing.

    A heartbeat, or maybe it was a drumbeat, rose around here, and as it pulsed, the world trembled. The forest around her became full of miniature volcanoes, oversized flowers, and rainbow colored mushrooms except the caps were made of storm clouds that billowed and darkened as they expanded. As they did, the clouds and leaves and stones trembled with the increasing volume of the pulsing sound, the whole world trembling and expanding, rising to reach for the heavens. She woke with a single word in her mind; no, it wasn¡¯t a word, but a command:

    GROW.

    She shot straight up out of bed, breathing hard, body covered in slick sweat, but feeling more awake than she had in years. It felt like she had overslept, but when she looked, the alarm candle was still burning. From the looks of it, she was up a full hour early.

    There was a lingering afterimage in her mind, as if the strange forest where stormclouds, mountains and flowers were all the same size had been in the form of something greater, and it had been watching her.

    A shiver ran through her. She headed off to the shower. She still found the devices fascinating; they still used public bathhouses out east in her village. Mirian intended to take her time and relax in the shower, but found it was impossible. She dressed quietly so as not to wake Lily, ate a breakfast of cheap porridge in the dorm kitchen, then headed out. She ended up sweet-talking the man in charge of the spellforge to let her in early and got straight to work on her spellrod.

    She finished assembling it and used her force polish spell to round off the corners. She smiled, looking at the hefty scepter. It wasn¡¯t just functional; it looked good. The metal rings she could dial back and forth had a satisfying click when their glyphs aligned, and the button that engaged it for battle spells was hidden under a small leather safety cap. She brought it out to the spell range and practiced using it, though not the combat function. Technically, she didn¡¯t have her combat certification since she had never had the time or inclination to take those classes. Combat practice would have to wait until she could sneak out to the woods¡ªsomewhere beyond the Mage¡¯s Grove where no one was going to run into her¡ªand try cutting some shrubs to pieces.

    The word grow kept tumbling about in her mind. Wasn¡¯t that what she was doing? Somehow, it didn¡¯t seem sufficient. She¡¯d been useless when the Akanans had attacked. Would she be any less useless now? What she needed to do, she realized, was start learning more about the fields she¡¯d neglected pursuing her artifice focus. Combat. Illusion. Divination. She needed to become stronger. The powerlessness she had felt, crawling away from that horrible woman who had cut her to pieces¡ªshe never wanted to feel that again.

    She ended up heading into Bainrose, and spent most of the day just reading about magical combat theory. Mirian had always considered the subject less intellectual. In a sense, it was¡ªyou didn¡¯t need to memorize so damn much about alchemistry, for example¡ªbut it also was complex in its own way. One had to consider all the different types of energy someone might use and have a plan both to block their spells and overcome their defenses. If they used a force barrier, attack them with lightning. If they had a grounding spell, send an inferno their way.

    What it came down to was a single mage or sorcerer acting alone was usually going to get overwhelmed, much like how a single warrior facing down a group almost always lost. Mana capacity and spell strength played less of a part than she¡¯d thought; it mostly came down to attention. You could only ever really pay attention to one thing at a time, so even if you could perform a perfect defense against one mage, the other could figure out what you weren¡¯t defended against and use that. Magebreaker bullets could be defeated, it turned out, but it was yet another dimension of attack, and putting up the kind of magnetic barrier needed to stop a bullet was magnitudes harder than what was needed to stop steel-tipped spellpiercer arrows.

    There was another aspect she hadn¡¯t even heard about, but as she read and reflected back on the attack, it seemed obvious. The Akanans were using auramancers.

    Auramancers took advantage of the natural resilience of a soul to magical incursions. Necromancers could damage or manipulate souls, but any other magic withered as it approached. Auramancers practiced extending the power of their own soul to a larger region¡ªoften several meters¡ªand therefore gave a form of spell resistance to whoever was nearby. A spell in the target area might fizzle, while others just lost their intensity. This did make casting spells out of the area just as hard, but it was the perfect defense for a group of soldiers armed with rifles.

    It was also a ridiculous amount of work to be able to manipulate your soul like that, and consumed basically all of a person¡¯s auric mana. Torrviol didn¡¯t teach it, she knew. Apparently some of the war colleges and monasteries did. The solution the book said countered it was, quote, ¡°necromancy,¡± which was obviously not going to happen. Necromancy was illegal, teaching it was illegal, and most of the books about how to do it had been destroyed in the Unification Wars.

    By the end of her research, she was convinced of one thing: the best thing to do would be to run. There was no way they could prepare to fight an army that had practiced magical combat. Mirian started planning the escape route. The obvious path was to go south through Torrviol and take the daily train from the station. The key was to do it before the shooting started.

    The problem was how to convince people. Lily might come. But she couldn¡¯t just leave everyone else behind. She didn¡¯t know most of them well, but she knew them; they¡¯d been her fellow students for six years. And her professors. Selesia. Hell, even Valen didn¡¯t deserve that. Maybe Professor Eld did, though.

    But with the days ticking down, she still hadn¡¯t the slightest idea if she¡¯d changed anything. She suspected she hadn¡¯t.

    Her next meeting with Nicolus and Xipuatl was on the 20th of Solem, Secondday. Mirian resolved that she would just have to say a bunch of stuff that was absolutely crazy sounding but true. There was also another person she could talk to who might be able to pull some strings.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ***

    Seventhday, she went early to the temple. Priest Krier¡ªshe¡¯d finally learned his name¡ªgave the same sermon on Xylatarvia¡¯s message of peace and her gift of the knowledge of the arcane glyphs. She got caught up on the part of the story where the boat Xylatarvia traveled on was made of vines. Why would someone be traveling through the stars on a boat made of vines? It was ridiculous. These days, people at least knew the atmosphere thinned up the higher up you went, so at a certain point it had to end. And certainly, they¡¯d known for centuries there wasn¡¯t any water up there, so why would it be a ship? Yeah, yeah, they were Gods, they could do whatever they wanted, but it seemed like it was a bit deceptive to imply that the universe out there was anything like the ocean.

    Mirian waited patiently for the priest to talk to a few other people, then she went to talk to him.

    ¡°Holy one, I need some advice.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± he said, in that sage tone of his, though something about his posture said he was in a hurry to be done with talking to people.

    She¡¯d thought about how to phrase this. ¡°What do the holy texts say about visions of the future?¡±

    ¡°The High Prophets of the Ominian were the first to see beyond, but each of the others saw glimpses of the future as well. To the Gods, time is spread out like a grand book, and through their passionate faith in the divine, the Gods shared a glimpse of it with them.¡±

    Mirian had to stop herself from rudely exclaiming that obviously she knew that already, every child knew that. ¡°I mean, holy one, what if one knew a part of the future, but wasn¡¯t a prophet. Is that anywhere in the texts?¡±

    ¡°If one has been shown the future, one is a prophet. But it is only the most devout who are given this gift, and the Gods have not seen fit to do this in many hundreds of years.¡±

    ¡°Okay, but what if you weren¡¯t particularly devout and definitely weren¡¯t a prophet, but you knew the future anyways. And, hypothetically, what if that future involved Akana Praediar attacking the Torrviol and massacring thousands of people. And even though you¡¯d tried to warn the military and the governor, no one took you seriously because you didn¡¯t have any proof. Hypothetically.¡±

    This made Priest Krier raise an eyebrow. ¡°Are you having visions, dear?¡±

    She sighed. ¡°More of an experience. Is, uh, is the statue of Yiaverunan in the rotunda of the Kiroscent Dome blessed in any way? I mean, is there a holy relic in it, or¡­?¡±

    Mirian could see he didn¡¯t believe her. Fair enough, she probably wouldn¡¯t believe herself either if she didn¡¯t know. It was all such horseshit. If the Gods had seen fit to send her back, could they at least have warned her? Told her to take notes on special events she could use to confirm her predictions? Maybe let her take a notebook with her when she went back?

    ¡°We all have nightmares from time to time¡­¡± Krier started saying in what was probably the most condescending tone ever achieved by mankind, beating out even Valen by a wide margin.

    She realized, though, that there was something she could predict. Or at least, she was pretty sure. Platus died soon. In five days, she remembered. She could try to save his life and figure out what he knew that made the Akanan spies kill him, or she could just¡­ let it happen. If she told everyone, they might tell him and change it. But if she only told a few people¡­.

    She couldn¡¯t do that, could she? Platus was a real dick, but she couldn¡¯t just let him die. But how many lives might it save?

    Mirian swallowed hard. ¡°I can tell you don¡¯t believe me, so I¡¯m going to give you a sealed envelope with a prediction. I¡¯ll drop it by the temple tomorrow. Hide it somewhere, then open it on the evening of the 23rd.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± the priest said sweetly.

    It wouldn¡¯t do to think ill of a holy man, so Mirian tried not to think about him on her walk home. As soon as she got back, though, she started drafting the letter. It predicted two things: Platus¡¯s death in an explosion in the Alchemistry Building at around 5:50 in the morning, and the Akanan invasion on the 28th. She used her autoscribe spell to copy the contents five more times. Then, she considered who to give it to.

    In the end, she decided on Xipuatl, Professor Viridian, Professor Torres, and the priest. The last two she would try to get delivered to the Archmage and mayor of Torrviol through the Courier¡¯s office. It was a shitty plan, she knew, but it was all she had.

    Secondday after classes, at the end of the study session, she gave Xipuatl the letter.

    ¡°Do I get one?¡± Nicolus asked.

    ¡°He can tell you after he opens it. Don¡¯t open it until after 6:00 on the 23rd. It¡¯ll look callous and stupid before then.¡±

    ¡°What is this about?¡± Xipuatl asked.

    Mirian sighed. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t believe me if I told you. It¡¯s a prediction. The only real prediction I can make at this point, because too much has changed otherwise. I can¡¯t even guarantee it¡¯ll come true, only that it happened last time. Hopefully, it saves a lot of lives.¡±

    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± he asked.

    Nicolus also gave her a funny look, but he didn¡¯t say anything. ¡°Well, see you in class tomorrow,¡± he said. ¡°Chapters 15 through 17 for the meeting Fourthday, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian said. ¡°See you then.¡±

    She felt terrible about it. There was a good chance she could save Platus. But if one death could prevent thousands? It had to be worth it. She just wished there was a way she could think of to do both.

    Thirdday, she delivered the other letters to her professors, and made them swear not to open it until the time she¡¯d written. Obviously, they also thought she was a few glyphs short of a spell, but she kept telling herself it would all be worth it.

    And if the attack didn¡¯t happen? She could just blow it off as a prank. Or something.

    Then on Fourthday, she arrived at Bainrose to find Xipuatl standing outside the study room looking confused. ¡°Where¡¯s Nicolus?¡± he asked. ¡°He¡¯s not really one to be late, that knight of his keeps him honest.¡±

    ¡°Ah, shit!¡± Mirian said, maybe a bit too loud, because several people in the library turned to look at her. ¡°I forgot. How the hell did I forget that? He¡¯s gone. We won¡¯t see him again until¡­ augh! I didn¡¯t even ask him why he leaves, either!¡±

    ¡°Mirian,¡± Xipuatl said slowly. ¡°Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°The opposite,¡± Mirian bemoaned. ¡°Right, well, it¡¯ll all make sense tomorrow. Or rather, it¡¯ll make less sense, but maybe some good will come of it. Nicolus isn¡¯t going to show, so we should just go home.¡±

    ¡°How do you know? We should wait around a little,¡± he said.

    ¡°Nah, I know. I¡¯d just forgotten. I¡¯m a prophet, you see. The world¡¯s worst prophet. Remember the letter, and the time I said.¡± And she left.

    At 5:40 the next day, Mirian sat on the bench in the plaza feeling wretched. Her stomach was all twisted in knots. She hadn¡¯t been able to eat breakfast, and she kept looking toward the Alchemistry building and feeling worse and worse.

    She looked across the plaza to the clock tower, swallowing hard as the clock ticked to 5:50.

    When it was 5:53, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was past the time, wasn¡¯t it? Hells, maybe something good had happened. Maybe she¡¯d done more than she realized. Maybe someone had opened their letter early and told Platus, and he¡¯d realized the danger he was in. Maybe¡ª

    The sound of the explosion startled her, echoing loudly across the plaza. People screamed, and fire billowed from the Alchemistry building again. Mirian dry heaved, then pulled herself together and walked to class.

    She wasn¡¯t sure why she bothered going to Artifice Design. Mirian couldn¡¯t focus, and she felt sick. After class, she went up to Professor Torres. ¡°Remember the letter?¡± she said.

    ¡°No,¡± Professor Torres said. ¡°I¡¯ve been busy and¡­ oh, hmm. I do. I think it¡¯s in my office. I¡¯ll look at it later.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she said, and left.

    After rationalizing why she should just go home, she went to Enchantments anyways. There was no point moping about. Better to just keep going. She¡¯d have to live with what she¡¯d done. Anyways, she knew her third class would be canceled. She could meet Xipuatl outside and talk to him. Then people might finally start to believe her.

    Then something different happened. Three guards marched into the classroom, orange tabards and armor feeling very out of place in the classroom. Each had their hand on a revolver. When Mirian looked back, two more were blocking the two exits in the lecture hall. Professor Eld went white and looked frightened as they approached him. They said something in hushed tones, and even though the lecture hall had gone totally silent, Mirian couldn¡¯t hear. But she knew what they were saying.

    Professor Eld pointed right at her.

    There was no point running. Mirian stood up, heart pounding.

    ¡°Mirian Castrella?¡± one of the guards asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Mirian said, voice far steadier than it had any right to be.

    ¡°You¡¯re under arrest for murder. Come with us.¡±

 Chapter 19 - Predicament

    The interrogation room was surprisingly spacious and well decorated. A copy of the letter sat on the table. A man wearing the pauldrons and striped tabard of a captain was reading a copy of another of the identical letters.

    ¡°Captain Mandez? Here she is,¡± one of the guards escorting her said.

    ¡°Hm? Good. Have a seat, Mirian.¡±

    Mirian sat. Captain Mandez was silent as the other guard left and shut the door behind them. She heard it lock and expected Mandez to start interrogating her, but he was silent. She looked around the room. There was a nice vase in the style favored by Palendurio artisans, and the two glyph lights illuminating the room were of the latest design. The table was a nice polished oak, and the carpet an import from Akana Praediar. It had the sparse, simple designs they favored. Mirian thought it was ugly. She much preferred the complex geometric designs of the carpets out in east Baracuel.

    Captain Mandez set the letter down and looked calmly at Mirian. Mirian¡¯s heart was beating out of control and her hands were trembling. Gods, how had she been so stupid? Of course there was a simpler explanation for ¡®predicted a murder¡¯ than prophesy, and that was ¡®did the murder.¡¯

    ¡°So, did you ever figure out who was breaking into all the Academy buildings?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the man said casually. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me?¡±

    ¡°Akana Praediar spies,¡± she said.

    ¡°Ah. Of course.¡± The captain smiled at the letter in his hand that mentioned the Akanan attack in five days. Then he was quiet again.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to ask me questions?¡± she said.

    ¡°Sure. What would you like me to ask you?¡±

    ¡°How about ¡®did you do it?¡¯¡±

    ¡°Did you kill Platus?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Captain Mandez gave a sad smile again. ¡°I find that quite hard to believe.¡± He sat there, staring at her again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t actually have anything to hide. I¡¯ve never been to the room. Didn¡¯t interact with Platus except in the dueling room. I knew he would die because it happened last time, just like the attack happened last time. Probably, it was one of the spies that killed him because he knew something. If you act now and start evacuating Torrviol, call in the Baracuel Army, you¡¯ll save thousands of lives. Maybe more, I don¡¯t know how it ends. But no witness or evidence will tie me to that room. The Gods gave me a prophecy. I don¡¯t know why, but I have to try to stop what¡¯s coming.¡±

    Captain Mandez lounged back in his chair. It was a nice, cushioned chair, dyed a rich blue. ¡°I have two witnesses who will testify they saw you enter the building in the morning.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s heart raced. ¡°That¡¯s a lie,¡± she snapped.

    Mandez leaned back farther and knocked on the door behind him. The guard entered. ¡°Did you see Mirian enter the Alchemistry building this morning?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the guard said.

    ¡°Very good.¡± The guard closed the door. Mandez leaned forward. ¡°That¡¯s the eye-witness testimony of a sworn officer of the king¡¯s justice. We both know you did it. Give me the details, sign a confession, and I¡¯ll tell the magistrate you¡¯re a sympathetic figure. Driven mad by¡­ something, I suppose, and after a few years of hard labor and treatment by the clerics for whatever ails that mind of yours, you¡¯ll be able to live out the rest of your life. Not in peace, mind you, that guilty conscious will follow you wherever you go. But the alternative is execution.¡±

    It was supposed to scare Mirian. And it did. But it also made her angry. ¡°Officers of the law aren¡¯t supposed to lie before a magistrate! When my letters went out, there was a reason I didn¡¯t give the guards one. Are you corrupt, or just incompetent and lazy!?¡±

    Mandez was unfazed by this outburst. ¡°How many of these letters did you write?¡±

    Mirian narrowed her eyes. ¡°And why would you care? That doesn¡¯t affect the case at all!¡±

    He gave a dramatic sigh and stood up. ¡°Oh, just idle curiosity. Well, when you¡¯re ready to tell the truth, let me know. I¡¯m going to¡­ go have lunch.¡± He knocked on the door again. ¡°Throw her in the cell. Not gently.¡±

    ¡°I am telling the truth. You just can¡¯t handle it! Fucking incompetent bastards, if you were doing your job you would have caught the Akanan spies and prevented this disaster!¡± As the guard dragged her down the corridor, Mirian shouted, ¡°The blood of the innocent is on your hands!¡±

    When the door was closed on her cell¡ªwhich was not nearly as nice, it contained a chamber pot, a cot, and a tiny barred window¡ªMirian finally cried. They¡¯d searched her and confiscated all her things¡ªher notebook, her glyph pen, her writing supplies, even her coat!

    She sat on the filthy cot and cried more, feeling sorry for herself. She¡¯d ruined it all. She¡¯d been given a second chance, and not only was the attack going to still kill everyone, if she did manage to escape, her reputation and career was going to be over. She¡¯d be expelled from the Academy, her family would be disappointed, and Platus had died for nothing. And when the attack came, she wouldn¡¯t even have the spellrod she¡¯d designed just for that purpose! The Gods had wasted their time on her. Mirian punched the stone wall, which hurt a lot, and didn¡¯t really make her feel any better.

    A few hours later, she¡¯d cried enough and was starting to get both bored and hungry. ¡°Hey, do prisoners get food and water, or are you also violating the king¡¯s decree on the fair treatment of the accused?¡± she yelled through the door.

    The answer, apparently, was ¡®yes.¡¯ The door was solid oak, reinforced with metal bands and, she guessed, strengthening glyphs and wards on the other side. She used the chamber pot to pee, and instantly regretted it. The smell permeated the whole room, and the tiny window did nothing to alleviate it. Then, she spent some time thinking about how she had promised to teach Selesia again today and then go have dinner. She¡¯d been looking forward to that. Now she¡¯d screwed that up. There was nothing to do and no one to talk to, so Mirian stewed in self-hatred for a bit before she tried to distract herself. She started passing the time by reciting magichemicals and their formula, then got bored of that and went through all the myrvites she knew and what special organs they had, then got bored of that and noticed it was getting dark.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Mirian pounded on the door again. ¡°Even prisoners get a meal and water! King¡¯s decree! Even a child at primary school knows that!¡±

    Still no response. There wasn¡¯t even a blanket on the cot. This was Torrviol, not some frontier dungeon! What was wrong with these guards? They were just straight up violating the king¡¯s law.

    The smell of piss may not have been able to escape the room, but the winter chill easily made its way in. Mirian didn¡¯t sleep at all, she just spent the night curled up on the nasty cot, shivering.

    She was exhausted and miserable as the sky brightened, and she kept drifting off to sleep then immediately waking up wracked with cold, teeth chattering. And she was thirsty. Gods she was thirsty, she hadn¡¯t had anything to drink since the morning before her first class!

    Finally, the door opened. A woman dressed in a thick red coat, decorated with gold embroidery, looked down at her. ¡°Captain Mandez, what in the five hells are you doing?¡± she said, and it took Mirian a moment in her sleep-deprived haze, to realize she wasn¡¯t the one being yelled at.

    ¡°Hm, must have been an oversight,¡± he said.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t,¡± Mirian whispered hoarsely. She wasn¡¯t sure if the woman¡ªclearly the magistrate of Torrviol¡ªhad heard her.

    ¡°She¡¯s a student of the Academy. We are not barbarians, Vicent. Does the king¡¯s law mean nothing to you?¡±

    ¡°It was an oversight,¡± the captain said. ¡°I¡¯ll see it¡¯s fixed. Even murderers get fair treatment, right?¡±

    The magistrate¡¯s voice got cold. ¡°It will be my office that determines that. Do not overstep yourself. Are we clear?¡±

    Captain Mandez looked bored by the whole thing. ¡°Of course, your honor.¡±

    After that, Mirian got water, food, and a blanket, though she was sure they¡¯d chosen the nastiest wool blanket they could find, and the stalest bread. She ate it all ravenously, then slept.

    ***

    The days passed, and Mirian got increasingly more frustrated. Occasionally, one of the guards would stop by and ask her if she wanted to confess. None of it worked the way she¡¯d learned in secondary school. Investigators were supposed to get at the truth, not try to force confessions on people! She¡¯d seen that one guard talking with the Akanan spy before she was sent back, and that first guard she¡¯d talked to hadn¡¯t reported the obviously suspicious thing up the chain. Now she had all the validation in the world that she¡¯d been right to trust her instincts. Was it really the entire Torrviol guard in on it? At least the magistrate wasn¡¯t also conspiring. Probably.

    On Secondday, the day before the attack, Mirian went to her cell window. She clasped the bars¡ªwhich were freezing¡ªand pulled herself up so she could see what was going on. People were just walking about like normal in the street she could see. She could just make out people fishing at the cleverly named Torrviol Lake, and a few people weeding the farm fields on the edge of town.

    Mirian tried shouting at someone, but they didn¡¯t startle from the noise. When she looked closer, she found, to her dismay, there were tiny glyphs preventing the movement of sound through the open window. That was just needlessly cruel. Installing a glass pane was twice as cheap and then it would keep the room warmer! By then, her arms were trembling from the effort of holding herself up, so she dropped down.

    The cell was, like most of the things in Torrviol, hundreds of years old. They hadn¡¯t bothered to wash the sheets on the cot¡ªsomething had been busy biting her in the night, and she itched fiercely¡ªbut that also meant they¡¯d been too lazy to take proper care of the walls. Professor Holvatti would be so disappointed in them for ignoring natural erosion.

    She found a place in the stone wall where the mortar was missing and cracks lined the stone. She smashed that corner with her boot until a piece chipped off the wall, then dragged her cot over so she could stand and reach the window. It didn¡¯t take much to break the key glyph in the sequence. All of a sudden, the sounds of the world poured into the cell. She was annoyed at herself for not realizing the sound-ward was in place sooner. No wonder no one had responded to her shouting.

    Mirian started shouting. ¡°The Akanans attack tomorrow! Torrviol must be evacuated!¡± She kept this up for some time before a guard finally entered the room and told her to shut up. She¡¯d seen him before, though still didn¡¯t know his name. He was the taller, muscular man with a short, well trimmed beard. She¡¯d seen him plenty of times on patrol, and now several times when her food¡ªwell, slop, really¡ªwas delivered.

    ¡°Charge me with disturbing the peace,¡± she said. ¡°Put me before the magistrate. I¡¯ll confess to that crime before her.¡±

    The guard slapped her in the face, hard, which send her stumbling back, clenching her jaw.

    A fury rose in her. She clenched her jaw, then said, ¡°Fine. Tell Captain Mandez I¡¯ll confess to the murder if he puts me before the magistrate. I¡¯ll tell her and her only.¡±

    The guard didn¡¯t say anything, he just closed the door and left.

    Mirian went back to screaming at passersby, only she added in that the guards were corrupt and violating the king¡¯s justice decrees. After a few hours, she¡¯d screamed herself hoarse and sat back on her cot, thinking.

    It was dark by the time the guard she¡¯d talked to entered her cell again. ¡°Will you shut up,¡± he snapped.

    ¡°Is the magistrate ready for me?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t talked to the magistrate,¡± he said.

    ¡°It¡¯s been four and a half days, and I haven¡¯t even been properly interviewed. Produce any evidence that I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± the guard said again, and raised his hand threateningly.

    Mirian recoiled, but then said, ¡°Where¡¯s Captain Mandez?¡±

    The guard didn¡¯t say anything. Something was bothering him.

    There was exactly one piece of evidence even tying her to Platus. ¡°Where¡¯s the letters I wrote?¡±

    The guard still didn¡¯t say anything, but by the muscles twitching in his face and the way he glared at her, she knew that had something to do with it.

    A realization struck her. ¡°He ran, didn¡¯t he?¡± Mirian suddenly wondered if Nicolus knew. That was twice now he vanished without a trace. Nicolus was well connected. Had other well-connected people started fleeing? She said, ¡°I recognize you. You patrol between the station and the market. You watch the train depart. How many other people have run?¡±

    There was a silence as the man ground his teeth. Then he said, ¡°Word is the Baracuel Army is on its way. The train has been commandeered for that purpose. No one is leaving town anymore.¡±

    Finally! After all this time, she was vindicated. ¡°You have to order the evacuation of Torrviol. Get people moving south along the cart path. There¡¯s still time.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have that authority.¡±

    ¡°No one with any authority has done shit,¡± Mirian spat. ¡°The governor, the commander of Fort Aegrimere, the Archmage, the professors, no one. You think they¡¯ll start now? Tell the magistrate what you know. Tell the mayor.¡±

    ¡°The other guards¡­ look, I trust the captain,¡± the guard said. ¡°They want to wait for his word.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± she asked. The conversation had turned weird. It was like the guard was looking for permission from her to act.

    ¡°Roland,¡± he said. ¡°Look, the captain¡¯s last order was that you stay locked up. I¡¯ll talk to the other guards. Give us¡­ give me a few more hours.¡±

    ¡°Baracuel needs you,¡± she said. After he closed the door again she muttered, ¡°I¡¯ll just wait here then, shall I? Prophets, I wish they¡¯d change out the chamber pot.¡±

    Eventually, she slept. She woke with a start. There was some sort of commotion outside the jail. She raised herself up to see, but dawn had only just started to lighten the sky, and everyone was wearing cloaks to ward away the chill of the winter morning.

    The door suddenly burst open. The guard¡ªRoland, Mirian remembered¡ªsaid, ¡°You¡¯re free.¡± He looked scared. He shoved a wrapped bundle at her that included her cloak and other things, then left the door open.

    The jail and the adjoining guard headquarters were deserted. Everyone, it turned out, was outside.

    ¡°Mirian!¡± she heard someone say.

    When she turned, it was Lily. Next to her were Selesia and Xipuatl.

    ¡°Gods it¡¯s good to see you all,¡± she said.

 Chapter 20 - Exodus

    ¡°So what in the five hells is going on?¡± Mirian asked. Selesia looked nervous, while Xipuatl looked surprisingly calm.

    Lily said, ¡°You were right. I¡­ don¡¯t believe it, but there really is an Akanan army¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know that part,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I mean, what¡¯s the plan?¡±

    ¡°Torrviol is being evacuated,¡± said Xipuatl. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ very short notice. There¡¯s a lot of people to get moving, and we can¡¯t use the train because it¡¯s busy moving the garrison from Fort Aegrimere north. The defense¡­ is not going to go well.¡±

    ¡°Why not?¡±

    ¡°Fort Aegrimere garrisons a single division. The Akanan force coming south toward us is a full army group.¡± When Mirian stared at him uncomprehendingly, he said, ¡°They¡¯re going to be outnumbered four to one. If they¡¯d had time to set up a defensive line, they might be able to hold out while Baracuel¡¯s armies make their way up from the Persaman border, but¡­ well, it¡¯s too late for that now. They¡¯ll both arrive at about the same time. Some time this evening. Everyone is panicking, obviously.¡±

    ¡°This is why everyone should always listen to gods-touched sixth year morons claiming a prophesy,¡± Mirian said.

    Lily burst into tears. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I doubted you, Mirian, it¡¯s just¡­ when they took you away for murder¡­ and then, everyone was saying you¡¯d signed a confession and admitted it had all been in a fit of madness¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°I did not say all that shit. Hellfire, that fucking captain! He¡¯s in on it somehow, I know it.¡±

    ¡°So what do we do?¡± Selesia blurted out.

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know. I mean, we have to go with the evacuation. But last time, I died in the attack. I don¡¯t know what happens after.¡±

    ¡°We were hoping¡­¡± Xipuatl started. ¡°Well, never mind then. The last word we got before the trains stopped running was that something big happened in Palendurio, though no one can agree what. But now the spellward guarding the railroad tracks is down. Sabotage, people think, and everyone¡¯s pointing fingers, but it doesn¡¯t matter. With the ward down, travel south along the road will be risky. We have to stick together. Archmage Luspire is organizing all the certified arcanists. Word is to take only what you can carry.¡±

    Mirian looked over and saw someone dragging a hand-cart through the street with two pieces of furniture and loads of boxes. They¡¯d made it about twenty feet from their front door and were already struggling.

    Fortunately for her, everything that she could carry would in fact fit in her bag. The spellward barrier being down was terrible news, though. There weren¡¯t a lot of dangerous beasts roaming between Torrviol and the Cairn River south of them, but Torrviol was still pretty far north. It would only take a few bog lions or a drake nest that was feeling particularly frisky to kill a lot of people. Going in a small group without protection was not an option. As fancy as her new spellrod was, it would do nothing against even a single bog lion.

    ¡°We should get moving, then,¡± Mirian said. ¡°And add food and water to whatever you pack.¡± The small river coming down from Torrviol lake to join the Cairn River was drinkable, but only just. Torrviol was modern in some ways, like the plumbing, but absolutely medieval in others¡ªlike all the sewage that the farmers didn¡¯t take for fertilizer was dumped into the river.

    Selesia, Lily and Mirian traveled back to the dorms, while Xipuatl visited his fancy apartment in town. They agreed to meet by the south road. As they moved through Torrviol, Mirian looked about. Some people were taking it well. People had spontaneously self-organized around the Academy dining hall and were distributing food around. In another place, a fight had broken out with one side accusing the other of looting. Some people had clearly taken the dictum to ¡®take what you can carry¡¯ seriously, while others were like the man she¡¯d seen trying to drag half their house with them.

    The academic buildings were dark, but Mirian saw a silhouette of someone crouched on the top of one of the parapets of Bainrose Castle. ¡°Look,¡± she whispered, and pointed.

    The others turned, and the figure ducked out of sight.

    They want something in Torrviol, she thought. She remembered Professor Viridian saying something about ¡®much is buried beneath Torrviol.¡¯ She remembered the colossal door beneath the library. Is that what Viridian had meant? What was behind that door? Was it something so important that Akana Praediar was willing to go to war over it?

    Well, there was no time for that now.

    Back at the dormitory, Mirian changed into her dueling jacket. It wouldn¡¯t ward away the chill so well, but it would take a hit from shrapnel or a bog lion claw better. She put her spellrod through the loop on her belt. Hurriedly, she stuffed everything else in her satchel. She¡¯d have to leave behind some of her clothes and several of her books, but that didn¡¯t matter now.

    They stopped by Stygalta Arena, where Mirian led them to a cabinet packed full of water skins. ¡°Nice to have for tournaments,¡± she said, and started doling them out. They filled as many as they could fit in their packs, clipped an extra to their belts, then left the rest by the fountain.

    ¡°There¡¯s waterskins by the fountain in the arena,¡± they helpfully told anyone else in the area as they left.

    They met Xipuatl where everyone was assembling by the south road. Carriages and carts already clogged the streets, some powered by spell engine, some by donkey. There were people helping each other out, and others bickering like agitated crows. It was all a disorganized mess.

    ¡°Where is the mayor?¡± Xipuatl muttered. ¡°We need a leader. This is his time to lead.¡±

    Instead, they waited around, and the minutes ticked by. Mirian was getting antsy. ¡°This is all too slow. We need to get moving. The Akanans have spell engine wagons. Not slow ones, either.¡±

    Finally, a cheer went up, and Mirian turned to look for the source of the commotion. Archmage Luspire was coming down the road, leading the professors and arcanists of the Academy. With their formal robes and their organized lines, they looked more like a military unit than a group of teachers.

    Mirian recognized most of them, though some of them she hadn¡¯t had as teachers for years. Professor Torres was the only one carrying a spellrod. It was the ancient one she¡¯d shown the class. She also, surprisingly, had an exotic looking rifle strapped to her back. Other professors had their spellbook bound by a chain so they could quickly access it. They spread out and took positions at different points along the now long caravan that had formed on the south trail.

    The instructor for combat sorcerers and battlemages, Professor Cassius, had an ungodly number of wands strapped across his chest in two bandoliers. He also was the only professor not on foot; he rode an eximontar. The six-legged beast was an especially large specimen, with more elaborate carapace than the ones she¡¯d seen on race days.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    Several groups from Torrviol had set out already on foot, which was stupid. Myrvite beasts didn¡¯t like to attack large groups, but they had no such compunction about attacking smaller groups.

    Slowly, the caravan got under way.

    ***

    The going was frustratingly slow. Ever since the railroad had been laid down some decades ago, the road had stopped being a priority to maintain. The rains that periodically washed over Torrviol had caused sloughs from the hills to their west to wash over parts of the trail, while the running water erosion had cut channels through the dirt. Mirian could hear Professor Holvatti cursing about it frequently.

    It wasn¡¯t a huge problem for anyone on foot, but anything with wheels was struggling mightily. One spell engine wagon had its front axle broken in half by a particularly nasty spot, which then caused the front end with the spell engine to get damaged. The axle could have been mended with some careful fuse metal spells, but the damage to the spell engine meant there was no simple fix. With no replacement part available, they¡¯d had to abandon it, with a team of sorcerers using several push object spells in concert to move the vehicle from blocking the road. Further spellwork, such as force bridges and lift spells could make transit easier, but the caravan was almost the entire population of Torrviol, and there was a danger in depleting the available mana of the group just to overcome trivial obstacles.

    The work to help out small groups of wagons or carriages, then, fell to the students and the able bodied. Mirian found herself constantly lifting rocks about with her spellrod to help clear the path, or using manipulate object to fill in holes in the trail, while Lily helped create small force bridges over the more damaged portions.

    As they traveled, the mood got tense. A cheer went up when they heard the train full of soldiers going north, but an hour later when the echoing roars of artillery got going, people got quiet, and people got scared. More groups decided to risk leaving the main body, which started an argument between some of the professors up front and the people trying to hurry south.

    To their credit, most of the Torrviol guard had stayed behind to defend the city. Perhaps the betrayal of Captain Mandez and their own complicity meant that helping hold the city would be a form of redemption for them. But now that also meant that there were less people who were trained to fight. The professors couldn¡¯t follow the small groups that were breaking off, or they¡¯d leave the main column of civilians under-defended.

    The sky dimmed, and the air got cold. It was still winter, after all, even if the season had been light on snow. Along the route, students started channeling heat air spells. Many people were poorly prepared for the forty or so mile trek to the Cairn River. Then, only the Gods would know how they¡¯d find all the barges they¡¯d need to get people to Cairnmouth.

    Then, their route diverged from the tracks. The tracks followed the river that came from Torrviol Lake, but the old south road cut through the hills. It was a shorter route by far, but the hills were steep, and the elevation change was enough that these were covered in snow. Worse, freeze-thaw cycles had made the trail even more of a mess than by the river, and left slick sheets of ice dotted across the trail.

    The frustrated yelling started almost immediately near the front. At this point, the class distinctions between someone like a scribe and a laborer became quite distinct: the more sedentary professions were complaining about the distance they¡¯d come and their feet hurting¡ªit didn¡¯t help their shoes were not the right kind for long walks on rough trails¡ªwhile the laborer professions were full of people that found the pace agonizingly slow and wanted the group to hurry along.

    Mirian, who was psychotic enough to run for fun, was firmly of the latter opinion. The sound of artillery and gun shots was getting louder. There had been a hope passed around the line that nightfall might bring an end to the fighting, but it was a stupid hope. Light spells were trivial enough a child could learn to cast them. The Akanan military wasn¡¯t going to have a problem fighting at night.

    Further up the trail, there was shouting, and one of the groups that had set off on their own came hurrying back. Two of the men were bleeding, and the woman had the black marks of frostbite across her face and down her left arm.

    ¡°There¡¯s bloody frost scarabites ahead! Big ones, too!¡± one of the men was shouting.

    Lily¡¯s face went white. ¡°One of those killed my grandpappy,¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Well, go ahead and lead them to the whole group why don¡¯t you?¡± snapped one of the lead magi. ¡°You idiots! I warned you not to leave the group.¡±

    Talk carried down the caravan. Further interrogation of the group¡ªwho had only lost two people to the monsters ahead¡ªwas that one of the first groups to set out was killed by something up in the hills, and the scarabites had been busy finishing off the remains when they¡¯d stumbled on them. Frost scarabites were absolutely massive beetle-like creatures with icy crystalline shells and razor-sharp pincers. Each was about the size of a wagon when fully grown, and like most myrvites, they possessed several natural spells tied to their spell-organs. One was a frost breath, as the woman had discovered. Luckily, she¡¯d been able to shield her eyes, or it might have blinded her permanently. The two men were lucky they hadn¡¯t lost limbs.

    Professor Viridian, who had been admirably keeping up with the front of the column and had yet to complain, despite his age, cast remote eye, a rather complicated spell that transferred light signals, and therefore sight, to the caster. Through one eye, they could see from the perspective of the spell, while from the other, they could see normally. ¡°There¡¯s a swarm of them on the hill,¡± he confirmed. ¡°At least ten. And that¡¯s not all. The trail has eroded away ahead, and the alternate route is covered in banebriar. The group that got tangled in it might be thankful the scarabites found them before too long.¡±

    Mirian shuddered. Banebriar was the stuff that parents used to scare children into not wandering the wilderness, and for a good reason. The thorns hooked into a person using a persistent force spell that made them nearly impossible to remove without counter-magic, while the vines slowly constricted around the caught animal, like a boa constrictor moving in slow motion. It was a long, horrible way to die.

    ¡°We should stop here, and resume in the day. The frost scarabites won¡¯t linger without carrion, and then we can clear the banebriar without being disturbed.¡±

    One of the women up front asked, ¡°Can¡¯t you just¡­ you know¡­ burn it back?¡±

    Viridian didn¡¯t even have to answer. One of the students did. ¡°Banebriar is highly resistant to magic, and doesn¡¯t burn easily either. It will be an involved task to clear a path for the whole group, and it might attract more myrvites.¡±

    ¡°But the artillery is getting closer. You hear those guns!¡±

    It was true. Mirian wasn¡¯t sure how the sound was carrying so well. Had the Akanans really taken and passed Torrviol in a matter of hours? It seemed impossible, and yet the thunder of the guns was carrying clearly to them.

    She watched as one of the priests worked to heal the woman with frostbite. Gradually, the blackened skin faded. It was a form of celestial magic, distinct from anything they did at the Academy. She watched as he did the same for the lacerations on the two men. She wondered idly if the Gods would let her practice magic like that. Not that it would make much difference; she was unlikely to be inducted into the Luminate Order and taught the divine secrets of healing magic in the next, oh, few hours.

    The conversation about what to do had ignited a loud debate that started at the front and ran its way down the line as people learned what was happening. People just started shouting out their opinions:

    ¡°Raise up white flags. We¡¯re a group of civilians. Why would they attack us?¡±

    ¡°I agree, make an encampment, set some wards. We can move on in the morning. We¡¯re all exhausted, we need rest.¡±

    ¡°Speak for yourself. We should push on. The scarabites might kill us. The Akanans certainly will.¡±

    ¡°Really? Been speaking with them, have you?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re willing to betray us and shatter any hope of alliance ever again. They¡¯re not doing that because they want survivors.¡±

    ¡°There must be a reason they attacked. It has nothing to do with us though. Frost scarabites might be the least of our worries. There¡¯s Labyrinth entrances near these hills. Something far worse might come out.¡±

    Xipuatl took Mirian to the side where it was quieter. ¡°What do you think?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Last time they had no problem gunning down civilians. We were trapped in the rotunda and they just massacred us. We should press on.¡±

    Selesia was sitting on a log, looking dejected. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it,¡± she said. ¡°Akana¡¯s not perfect, God knows it isn¡¯t, but why¡­?¡± She¡¯d been crying, Mirian realized, though she¡¯d been quiet about it. It must have been hard for her to see her country¡¯s betrayal. Not that it was easy on any of them. She sat down next to Selesia and put her arm around her. There wasn¡¯t anything comforting to say; there was no upside or hopeful solution. But she could be there, in that moment. It wouldn¡¯t be enough, but it was something.

    The moment was interrupted. This time the shouting was coming from the back of the column and moving its way to the front.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Xipuatl shouted toward the back.

    ¡°Baracuel soldiers. They¡¯re retreating this way!¡± someone replied.

    Oh shit, Mirian thought.

 Chapter 21 - Extermination

    They were, Mirian knew, fucked. Even if they did want to rely on ¡®we¡¯re innocent, don¡¯t shoot us,¡¯ which the Akanans clearly didn¡¯t give a bog lion¡¯s ass about, they¡¯d just become a major target.

    ¡°Tell them to retreat somewhere else!¡± someone shouted.

    I¡¯m going to die again, Mirian realized. Nicolus must have known. Who else had known? And how had they found out? It hadn¡¯t been through her, because Nicolus had done the same thing the first time. He¡¯d left the exact same day.

    On one hand, he was a piece of shit. On the other hand, she sort of got it. She¡¯d tried to save everyone. What had that gotten her?

    Mirian stood. ¡°Let¡¯s clear the hill!¡± she shouted. ¡°Who¡¯s with me?¡±

    She did not get the rancorous cheer she was hoping for. But she did get a few people.

    Someone she didn¡¯t recognize tried to stop her. ¡°Don¡¯t get yourself killed. We¡¯re safer sticking together here,¡± he said.

    ¡°They will absolutely kill us all,¡± she told him. ¡°But you do what you want.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to let more people get killed,¡± he said, and held out his hand.

    Mirian drew her spellrod. Her voice turned cold and she fixed him with a penetrating stare. ¡°Get out of my way,¡± she said flatly.

    The man backed away.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she said. Mirian noticed only Lily and Xipuatl were following her. ¡°Selesia! Come on. We still have a chance.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± she complained.

    ¡°You can.¡±

    Mirian went and knelt in front of her. ¡°Selesia, the first time this happened, we didn¡¯t meet. This time, I fixed that. Don¡¯t give up yet. I still owe you¡­ I owe you a date. Duels lesson and dinner, yeah?¡±

    There, she¡¯d said it.

    That just made Selesia burst into tears, and Mirian felt this wretched feeling. She couldn¡¯t stand it. She took Selesia¡¯s hand. ¡°Come on. Let¡¯s go. Together.¡±

    Selesia wiped her face, and nodded.

    The gunfire was getting closer. Flashes of light now flickered on the underside of the low-lying clouds. As they began to summit the hill, those flashes illuminated the tops of the trees. North of them, they could see fires burning and lighting spells dancing.

    About a dozen of them had decided to keep going. Maybe more would have joined, but by now there was a big press on the road as the crowds had piled up. People south on the road were just shouting at each other, but north, she could hear the raised voices of panic setting in.

    Mirian didn¡¯t recognize most of the people with them. Everyone was wearing their cloaks because of the night chill, and the light spells weren¡¯t doing much to properly reveal faces. It was hard enough keeping track of her people. Surprisingly, Valen had made her way to the front.

    ¡°Valen!¡± she said. She was still a jerk, but she was a familiar jerk. ¡°Guess hell didn¡¯t want you?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Gods-touched, huh?¡± she said, and spun her finger around her ear.

    A few other students had joined them, as well as townsfolk. Three people had farming implements they were holding like polearms. One of them had a sword, though even in the glyph lights it looked about equal parts rust and steel.

    The ice on the hill was treacherous. ¡°Here,¡± Valen said, and cast a spell that created tiny force spikes on the bottom of their boots. That helped with traction a bit.

    ¡°Up ahead,¡± Lily said. It was her light spell leading the way. Sure enough, there was a loud clicking and chittering noise up ahead. Mirian could just make out the dark forms of the frost scarabites. Gods, they were huge!

    Xipuatl said, ¡°They don¡¯t have these down south. What are they weak to?¡±

    Valen said, ¡°Blunt force. You¡¯d think it¡¯s fire, but no, they just ignore the stuff, or if it¡¯s annoying them, they breathe ice on your fire spell and fizzle it. Target their tiny faces. You can also use blades to cut off the antennae. And poke out their eyes.¡±

    ¡°Well someone was paying attention in Viridian¡¯s classes,¡± Mirian muttered. Louder, she said, ¡°I have a cutting blade spell. I¡¯ll try to hit them with it. And a force shield spell, to protect us from the frost breath.¡± She clicked the button on her spellrod to put it into combat mode.

    Xipuatl said, ¡°I can get the vines to attack those scarabites near the banebriar.¡±

    ¡°Which class did you learn that in?¡± Valen asked.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t,¡± Xipuatl said. ¡°Alright, aim for the faces, and watch the pincers. Let¡¯s go!¡±

    Mirian aimed her force blade spell at the face of a nearby scarabite and sent the glowing blades slicing toward it. With frightening speed, it skittered toward her, now missing an antenna, but clearly pissed off. She immediately put up a force shield, and just in time. A gust of dark air tinged with blue smashed into her force shield, growing ice crystals along it. Mirian waited for the attack to subside, then switched again and sent the blades again, this time from a much closer range, pouring more mana into it. This time, the blades severed one of the pincers, while another lacerated it all along the front. The giant beetle let out a hissing screech that was, frankly, terrifying, but it ran off, dripping whatever fluid it had instead of blood. If Professor Viridian wanted the technical name for it, he could come up here himself and tell her.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    She turned her attention to another of the nearby scarabites. Lily had hit one with a hell of a force spell, which had sent it skittering back, but angrily clicking its crystal wings together while keeping its pincers opened wide. She sent the force blades at it a few times. When it charged, she threw up another force shield, but the beetle just rammed into it, sending Mirian reeling as the spell collapsed on her. She was saved by Lily picking up a chair-sized rock and hurling it directly into the creature as it charged. It stopped in its tracks, clicked its wings one more time, then fell over and stopped moving.

    When she looked over to the thick vines of the banebriar, she saw that Xipuatl hadn¡¯t been exaggerating. The two scarabites that had been feeding on the people entangled in the vines were now engulfed themselves, struggling mightily, but to no avail.

    There was movement to her left. Mirian had trained so long in dueling that she reacted before she thought, like her scepter was a rapier. She pointed it and channeled again. The force shield came up just in time, blunting the swipe of the sharp pincers of another scarabite. She found herself tumbling back, and she landed hard on the rocks and ice, her bag sliding behind her. The shield broke as her concentration did, and the scarabite ran forward. Apparently, its eyes or antennae had missed where she¡¯d gone, because it rushed over her, but one of the legs had her cloak pinned down. She raised the spellrod once again and clicked the upper ring once, then poured as much mana as she could into it.

    The force blades sawed into the underbelly of the thing. One of the pincers came down toward her head, close enough she felt it brush her scalp. She moved to the side as best she could and kept channeling, sending the blades up like a fountain. Viscous beetle-goo poured down on her, while bits of shredded carapace rained on her like little icicles. Then it collapsed, pinning her firmly to the frozen ground.

    ¡°Hey, little help!¡± she called out. Her arms were now firmly trapped, and though the full weight of it wasn¡¯t on her, enough was.

    It was Lily who came to the rescue with an enhanced lift object spell. With the frost scarabite¡¯s soul rapidly deteriorating, she was able to heft the corpse up just enough for Mirian to scramble out from under it, though she had to quickly unclasp her cloak and leave it beneath the myrvite; it was too sturdy a weave to simply just tear free.

    She stood and assessed the situation. The frost scarabites were either dead, trapped in the banebriar, or scurrying off, their fear of danger outweighing the carrion prize. Several people were screaming in agony, though the now constant roar of gunfire and explosive spells nearby kept drowning it out. One of the townsmen was dead, having been bisected by pincers. Mirian turned away from it as soon as she realized what she was looking at.

    Then she realized Selesia was one of the injured. She was lying on the ground, clutching her side. Mirian rushed over to her and knelt down. ¡°I need a light spell!¡± she called. Her light spell was in her spellbook, which was in her satchel, which had gotten lost on the ground somewhere. Someone obliged.

    Selesia was breathing rapidly, and blood was leaking from between her fingers. ¡°Get a priest!¡± Mirian called, though she knew there was little hope of that. She could hear the screams down below where the population of Torrviol was corralled into a tiny section of the road, trapped between the thick forest and the river. With the thunder of the artillery landing nearby, even her shout might have gone unheard. She ran back to her cloak and cast her force blades spell again, then took one of the shredded pieces to wrap around Selesia¡¯s wound. Then she flicked the button on her spellrod and adjusted the dials so that it was on the manipulate object to tighten the fabric so that it created a better seal over the wound. ¡°You¡¯re going to be okay,¡± she said to Selesia, and tried to smile.

    The girl was pale. She¡¯d lost a lot of blood, and not just externally. The pincers had sliced open something important.

    ¡°Mirian. Mirian!¡± Valen was calling her.

    ¡°We need a priest,¡± she repeated.

    ¡°No. We have to go. That Tlaxhuaco guy is opening a passage in the banebriar. Some real druid shit, I¡¯ll tell you what, but it¡¯s working. But we have to go now.¡±

    ¡°Fuck you, I¡¯m not leaving her,¡± Mirian said, though even as she said it, she knew it was a stupid thing to say. She could hear the screaming below. A panicked mob was coming up the hill, and it didn¡¯t just contain townsfolk, either. She saw Baracuel soldiers running too. It was a rout. A total disaster. But how had the Akanans broken through the force so fast? She¡¯d read that book on battles, and it constantly was talking about how artillery and good cover could bog down even a clearly superior foe for hours if not days.

    ¡°Mirian,¡± Valen said, and her voice was different this time. Sorrowful. Then she said, ¡°I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter.¡± And she looked up.

    Mirian had been so focused on Selesia and the commotion at the bottom of the hill that she hadn¡¯t even seen it. Once she did, it was impossible to miss.

    A pair of colossal airships floated in the sky above, drifting southward towards them. They resembled one of the great warships she¡¯d seen in Alkazari¡¯s harbor as a child, except twice the size and far more angular. The huge wooden hulls were studded with steel, brass plating, and hundreds of glyphs along sections of it. Six thin beam-like rods extended from the sides like wings, magic sails stretched between them like a cross between a storm and a spiderweb. Protruding from ports in the hull were dozens of guns, angled down towards the ground.

    Towards them.

    Mirian gaped at the sight. She¡¯d seen airships before. They had been fifteen feet long at most. Nothing like these behemoths.

    Gods, she thought. Ominian save us. Please. She remembered the statue of Yiaverunan in the Kiroscent Dome. Was that who had saved her? Yiaverunan, give us all another chance. Together. I can¡¯t do this alone.

    Great gouts of flame erupted from the guns above, illuminating the night. There was a moment of silence. It lasted a breath, a heartbeat¡ªand then the shells landed. The roar was deafening, and the earth around them shook. Some were earthquake shells that cracked open the hillside; others exploded into dancing lightning that ripped through the trees and through the crowds of refugees from Torrviol. Other shells exploded in brilliant fireballs. Mirrian felt the lancing pain as a pressure wave from a nearby explosion burst her eardrums. The world became silent.

    She stayed on her knees, gazing up at the sight, tears running down her cheeks. There was no point running. Despite Xipuatl¡¯s efforts, the way was still blocked. She held on to Selesia¡¯s hand as tight as she could.

    In a way, it was beautiful; a light display like she had never seen before. Another volley erupted from the airships, the two of them lashing out with a synchronicity that reminded Mirian of a show she¡¯d seen as a child with dancers and glyph lights. She tried to focus on that, and not the horror around her. She didn¡¯t want to see Lily die again. Or Valen. Any of them. She was glad she couldn¡¯t hear the screaming any more, but she didn¡¯t dare look down the hill to see what had become of the Torrviol exodus. Didn¡¯t dare gaze anywhere but up at the heavens, least she see where the blood and viscera that she could feel on her face had come from.

    She let out a scream¡ªof rage, of sorrow¡ªas the third volley flashed from the cannons in the sky.

 Chapter 22 - Cycle Three

    Mirian awoke with that raw scream still on her lips, and stopped.

    Someone groaned. Selesia, she thought. She¡¯s wounded, but we can still¡ªbut no. It was Lily, saying, ¡°Gods above, Mirian. You¡¯ve got a real set of lungs. That must have been some nightmare.¡±

    Mirian sat on the bed and clutched her head in her hands. ¡°I need¡ªgive me a moment.¡±

    ¡°You okay?¡±

    Mirian burst into tears, which hopefully answered the question. A drop of water hit her on the head, which made her burst out laughing. Of course. The hole was back.

    Lily came over and put her arm around Mirian, which made her start crying again. She hugged her roommate back. It took a few minutes for her to stop trembling, and to find her voice.

    ¡°You don¡¯t remember, do you? Or we¡¯d be having a very different conversation.¡±

    ¡°Mirian, what is going on?¡±

    She forced a smile. ¡°Nothing. Don¡¯t worry about it. I just¡­ I need some time.¡± Another drop of water splatted on her hair, dripping down her face. She sighed. ¡°And I need to shut off the water heater above us.¡±

    Lily looked at her like she¡¯d grown a third leg out of her head, but Mirian just pointed up, then rose to grab the storage tin and her spellbook.

    ¡°What is¡­ how did that happen?¡± Lily said, staring up at the perfectly clean hole running through all three stories of the dormitory.

    ¡°No clue,¡± Mirian called as she shut the door behind her. Mirian used her lift object spell to get the third floor door open again, slapped the tin down over the hole so it would at least catch the rain coming through¡ªit wouldn¡¯t be much, she knew the next few days would just be a light drizzle¡ªthen found the hidden panel with the switch to the water heater and turned it off. The water stopped hissing from the pipe shortly after. Everyone¡¯s showers would be ruined. Good, she thought. They could all suffer together. Someone else could go bother maintenance.

    When she got back to the room, she dressed and grabbed her things in silence. She spent a moment looking for her spellrod, then belatedly remembered she hadn¡¯t made it yet. It was back to the minimalist clay cube. Lily was staring at her, but she just couldn¡¯t handle it right now. She needed time to process what had happened. Time to think. ¡°We¡¯ll talk after classes today, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Lily said, still looking concerned.

    Mirian scarfed down breakfast in the kitchen. She was absolutely ravenous; the last food she¡¯d had was¡ªGods, it had been that damned prison food, hadn¡¯t it? Absolutely disgusting. And that was coming from someone who made porridge every day to save money. Well, that can at least come to an end, she thought, throwing her cloak on. She could take out a loan from the Tower¡¯s Trust bank any time she wanted. The debt would subsequently be canceled by artillery bombardment.

    As she walked across the path between the dormitories and the Academy, she considered what to do. There¡¯d been no statue of Yiaverunan nearby this time. Was it even the Gods that had saved her? She had to believe it was, but the massacre of the Torrviol exodus had shaken her faith. Why would they let all this happen? Why would they let it all happen again?

    There was something bigger at play. Viridian had talked about buried secrets beneath the Academy. It had to have something to do with that big stone door beneath the Bainrose library. Then, there was the attack. Torrviol didn¡¯t make sense as a target. If the Akanans could overwhelm the Fort Aegrimere garrison so easily, why didn¡¯t they just take Cairnmouth itself?

    Her first year at the Academy, she had taken the mandatory History of Torrviol course. Torrviol was older than even the capitols of Baracuel; layers of ruins lay beneath the modern town, which had once been a great city that stretched from the hills that the dormitories were all the way to Lake Torrviol. Rumor was that old passages led to the Labyrinth, though those had no doubt been closed up. Maybe something big had been discovered down there.

    She needed to find a way to spy on the spies. Whatever they were up to, it wasn¡¯t just preparation for the invasion. One spy had been on top of Bainrose on the day of the attack. It was the guard in front of Bainrose who knew the spy. Somehow, the library was the key.

    The guards couldn¡¯t be trusted. It seemed they were loyal to the captain, and the captain of the guard was undoubtedly a traitor of some kind. Some random student wasn¡¯t going to change their minds any more than it had before.

    What could she use? Predicting tests would just get people thinking she cheated. Predicting the weather could be dismissed as a guess, and not even a particularly lucky one. Oh, it¡¯s going to rain in Torrviol? Damn, how did you know that? The day after it gets cold, it snows instead? The Prophets have come again, she could hear someone replying. And predicting Platus¡¯s death would just get her charged with murder.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Not that predictions would do them any good. Akana Praediar had apparently created a pair of colossal airships that Baracuel simply had no defense against. Most of Baracuel¡¯s armies were in the south of the country by the Persaman border. But even if they could be summoned in time¡ªa process that would have to start in the next few days, according to the logistics timetables she¡¯d read in that textbook on battles¡ªwhat were they going to do? It was out of range of any arcanist short of maybe Professor Cassius, and guns didn¡¯t seem like they¡¯d do much.

    More, what was the explanations for this happening a third time? Would she go back in time again if she died? She had her suspicion she would. She didn¡¯t plan on dying to test that out, though. She didn¡¯t like dying. It was painful and horrible.

    Mirian passed the group of first year students whose conversation would eventually lead to one of them crying on a bench. One thing was certain: she wasn¡¯t going to hand that scroll over to some idiot from the Academy¡¯s maintenance section. It would probably just end up in Captain Mandez¡¯s hands. How the hell was his name Mandez, anyways? That was a south-Baracuel name, and Mandez had the palest skin she¡¯d ever set eyes on, moreso than even Professor Endresen who was from about as far north as you could get in Baracuel without actually being in the frostlands.

    This time, she didn¡¯t bother climbing the stairs of the Alchemistry building. She waited in the alley below, spellbook open, ignoring the students who passed by and gave her funny looks when they noticed her standing in the narrow gap between the structures.

    The minutes ticked by. Then, there was a slight scuffling sound from above. She tensed, and started channeling the lift object spell. Mirian lashed out with it as she saw the man above leap, but at the distance, she missed the buckle over the cover and snatched the strap securing it instead. That was more securely attached, so she intensified the mana flow and pulled hard¡ªhard enough that it set the man on the roof off balance. His arms pinwheeled as he fought for balance, and the satchel slipped down. The cloaked man above recovered. If he looked down, though, Mirian didn¡¯t see it. She snapped shut her spellbook, put the hood of her cloak on, and snatched up the bag, stashing it in her own satchel as she did and ducked into the Alchemistry building. Yeah, you mysterious piece of shit, Mirian thought. How do you like it?

    Mirian by this time had a much better mental framework for how all the alchemistry concepts they¡¯d been learning connected, and this would be the third time she would take the exam. She already had a pretty good idea of what she had gotten wrong last time, and none of it would be covered in the review session. She considered skipping the classes she didn¡¯t have exams in today, but the environment was relaxing. She liked school. She liked learning. She liked the familiarity, and how no one was trying to kill her.

    Her mind kept going back to the battle on the hill. That had been a nightmare, just giant beetles skittering about, and she¡¯d nearly died twice. Selesia had died. Well, they¡¯d all died, in the end. Those damned Akanans. Just gunning people down without mercy.

    She zoned out as students trickled into the classroom. The battle had happened less than an hour ago. How the hell was she supposed to concentrate after something like that? Belatedly, she realized she needed to figure out how to get Nicolus to sit next to her again. But she hadn¡¯t been paying attention the first time it had happened, so what had the reason been? She sat in a similar spot each day. The other thing she needed to check was for Xipuatl. Looking around, though, he didn¡¯t appear to be in the class. It was a prerequisite to the Spell Engines class, but he must have taken it sometime last year.

    The bell chimed, and Professor Seneca lowered the lights. Mirian watched as Nicolus entered class¡ªlate, obviously¡ªand sat in a random spot. There was a girl following him. Was that¡­ what was her name again? Caldera? No, that was a volcano thing. Calenna? Calisto, she remembered. The seat he¡¯d chosen had no seats nearby. That was what he¡¯d been doing¡ªevading Calisto for some reason.

    She started taking notes in her notebook. One set was on alchemistry, the other, on times and days. Both would be erased again, she was pretty sure. Is that what the Prophets had gone through? Died over and over again until they got it right? What was she supposed to get right?

    Mirian didn¡¯t like the consequences of if she was wrong. What if she skipped classes, failed an exam, and the month didn¡¯t repeat? What if she took risks and lost an arm or died¡ªand it stuck? She had always been a cautious person. But something had to change.

    She thought of the dream she¡¯d had, the word still resonating in her mind: GROW.

    Mirian didn¡¯t need some weird dream to tell her that. That was what she always did: growing in knowledge, growing in skill¡ªbut she did realize she needed to grow in new ways. If she was right, and dying would just repeat the month again, she could let go of some of her anxieties. She could take risks.

    At the end of class, she strode up to Nicolus before Calisto could get to him. ¡°Hey, I heard you were doing studying sessions and you knew your Alchemistry. Can I join? I have some extensive notes I¡¯ve taken¡­.¡± She opened up her notebook and started paging through so he could see.

    ¡°I don¡¯t actually¡­ who told you that¡­?¡± Nicolus¡¯s eyes narrowed with suspicion. Then he said, ¡°Hah! Oh, you mean the dr¡ªsocial sessions. With my friends. We don¡¯t really do much studying,¡± he admitted. He¡¯d almost said ¡°drinking,¡± but that was technically banned, and Professor Seneca was still in the room.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Mirian said, and made a disgusted face. ¡°No, I mean actually studying. Sorry, I guess I¡¯ve wasted both of our time.¡± She flipped through one last page in the notebook, and Nicolus finally noticed it.

    ¡°Hey Nicolus,¡± Calisto interjected, but Nicolus shushed her and said, ¡°Wait, let me see that notebook. Wow. These are¡­ okay, so you know what, I actually do study¡ªdon¡¯t go spreading that around, I don¡¯t want to tarnish my reputation or anything¡ªbut it¡¯s usually private sessions with a, uh, tutor. Last one for the quarter is tonight, actually. Listen, meet me outside of Bainrose at four.¡±

    Then he was off, with Calisto following him, pestering him incessantly about something, though Mirian couldn¡¯t hear what. Well damn, she thought. It worked.

    Next, she had to decide what to do about the break-in to the Myrvite Studies building that was going to happen in about two hours.

 Chapter 23 - Trap

    The easy part of the plan was to skip class. The hard part was figuring out what to do with the short amount of time she had to prepare. Her spellbook was full of minor spells, basic spells, simple spells, and nearly useless spells. It was all novice stuff because, well, that was what she was, a novice. Until she graduated, there were certain spells she wasn¡¯t even allowed to scribe.

    She considered a few options. She wanted people to know about the spies, right? But going to the guards was worse than useless. What she needed was a bunch of eye-witnesses. Given that no alarms went off, these spies seemed to have keys to most of the doors.

    Mirian went to the hall where the spy would later walk down. There was a notice posted: No admittance without a glyphpass, no trespassers. Dangerous animals beyond this door. It then showed a little stick figure getting eaten by a simply drawn bog lion. Pretty clear stuff. The door was solid wood, reinforced with steel rivets, each with a minor toughness enchantment. The most elaborate thing was the handle and lock. The door required a glyphkey, and only a key with both the matching glyphs and ridges would work. Otherwise, Mirian was pretty sure it would trigger an alarm. The nice thing about the stone corridor was that it was long, and there were no side doors.

    She studied the lock. She needed a way to jam it without triggering the alarm. That last part was tricky; she wasn¡¯t quite sure what caused that. Fortunately, she was an artificer. She¡¯d looked at hundreds of designs, and Torres had had them figure out what glyphs were missing in various devices using just math and spell theory. She sketched out the glyphs she could see, then hurried over to the Artificer¡¯s Tower.

    There, she found one of the labs that wasn¡¯t in use. All the supplies were locked away in cabinets, but what she was after were the books. There were design books that just were full of blueprints. She found one and flipped through it. Engine, basic. Flame cloak. Gauntlet, protective. Illuminations. Ah, here it is: Lock, magical. She carefully analyzed the mana channels, then flipped to the front of the book for ¡®alarm.¡¯ After careful analysis, she figured there were only a few cheap ways to fit the alarm to the lock. A lot of the glyphs in the device were flux glyphs, so they would change functions if paired together. That left a few options. The alarm was probably triggered magnetically, she decided. Most lock-picking tools were steel, and a fake key would be steel, so¡ªhey, it made sense. The glyphs on the proper key would create a circuit that bypassed the thin flow of mana in the ward, while the other glyphs would match up with the proper symbols and create another mana circuit that magnetically unlocked the door.

    Well, that was easy, then. She just needed a nonmagnetic metal. Brass would do the trick.

    She went over to the Academy metal shop that she would be visiting in a few days to start on her spellrod and scooped up a pile of brass shavings from the shop floor. The steward there looked at her funny, but whatever. She pulled out her spellbook and cast phantom magnet to check the filings. It turned out to be a good idea, too. Small bits of steel had gotten mixed in. She discarded them, and hurried off with her prize.

    By that time, class was close to getting out. She hoped no one else was trying to use the door, and that maintenance would forgive her for making yet another mess. She stuffed the filings into the lock with her hands, giving herself a nasty metal splinter in the process. It was worth it, though. She figured the wards also probably triggered if mana flows brushed them the wrong way, but it had no such safety for just physically shoving junk into the mechanism.

    She felt a small burst of pride at her accomplishment. Then she ran off to hide just outside the ecology classroom.

    Professor Viridian¡¯s voice was droning on through the door. She could just make out that he¡¯d just gotten to the positive feedback cycles of the ecosystem scenario he was describing, which meant the lecture was coming to a close. She moved closer to the stairs, stepping softly so her boots didn¡¯t make any noise on the stone tiles. When she listened, she could hear someone coming up the stairs.

    Mirian waited, heart pounding, until she heard the bell ring. She peeked around the corridor, and sure enough, it was the cloaked figure, heading for the door. ¡°HEY!¡± she shouted, and the man jumped and did a sort of half-turn. His skin was pale, hair blond, and his features looked very Akanan. ¡°What are you doing? That corridor is forbidden! Hey!¡± The man, though startled, ignored her and went for the door. No doubt he figured once he was through it, it would leave the stupid shouty girl behind looking stupid, and there¡¯d be no alarms to give him away. He quickly stuffed his key in the lock¡ªor tried to. Desperately, he tried three more times, before he whirled and turned, a look of fury on his face.

    ¡°Hey, someone! This guy is trying to break into the myrvite kennels! Hey!¡± Mirian called. And the timing was perfect: ecology class was just getting out. People were heading to the stairwell anyways. Dozens of students were gathering. ¡°Someone get Professor Viridian!¡± she shouted.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    The spy reached into his cloak and pulled out a wand.

    ¡°Watch out!¡± Mirian called, and ducked around the corner. There was the roar, crackle, and flash of a lightning spell going off. Screams erupted as students pushed past each other to flee. One boy had gotten hit, and was convulsing on the ground.

    Professor Viridian walked around the corner, spellbook open. He didn¡¯t say anything, but the spy stopped his advance, hesitating.

    ¡°It¡¯s a lightning wand,¡± Mirian said to him.

    Viridian smiled and said, ¡°Thank you, my dear, I know.¡±

    The spy raised his wand, and another bolt of lightning cracked out, only to suddenly vanish.

    Oh damn! Mirian thought. It was rare to watch anyone deploy counter-magic. Usually, it was stupid; there were so many spells out there, and you basically had to start casting the counter-spell version of their spell as they started casting theirs. But wands could only churn out the exact same spell over and over.

    Another bolt fizzled into nothingness. Then a wave of force from Viridian bowled the man over, sending him, his key, his wand, and his cloak all flying backward.

    ¡°Get a healer,¡± Viridian said, bending over to check the boy who¡¯d been hit. ¡°And you,¡± he told the spy. ¡°Don¡¯t move. I¡¯d rather not hurt you, but I will if I have to.¡±

    Mirian felt a surge of triumph. She also felt bad for the boy who¡¯d gotten hit and the two girls who¡¯d been smashed into the wall as the crowd panicked and fled. But she¡¯d done it. She¡¯d stopped one of the spies, and done it in front of so many people that everyone knew. There was no covering that up.

    She took her next risk then. Instead of rushing to Enchantments to go take the exam, she stayed behind. Professor Eld was a jerk, but with Viridian backing her up, she was sure she could get him to give her a makeup exam. It was, after all, Academy policy, even if Eld tried to weasel out of it. ¡°I saw the whole thing,¡± she told Viridian. ¡°I can tell the guards everything.¡±

    And she did. The guards looked annoyed by the whole thing, but they took statements from both her, Viridian, and several other students who stayed behind. Viridian examined the glyphkey he had and said it was genuine and asked the guards to figure out how he¡¯d acquired it.

    The spy didn¡¯t say anything as they searched him, but Mirian watched as they seized his wand and looked for any arcane catalysts that could help him spellcast. They took a knife off him and a scroll case, then shackled him with a force spell from their wands and marched him off to the prison.

    ¡°I wanted to stay and do the right thing,¡± she told Viridian after. ¡°But¡­ well, now I¡¯ll have missed most of my Enchantments exam. It¡¯s only a fifty minute class, and there¡¯s no way¡ª¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he said kindly. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure Professor Eld schedules a makeup exam.¡± Then he rolled his eyes. ¡°He hasn¡¯t changed the format of it in a decade, he¡¯ll just need to fill out a form. Spend some time in the garden. It¡¯ll do you good to relax,¡± he said.

    ¡°Thank you, professor,¡± Mirian said. And she did just that. The gardens north of the building were well tended, and beautiful to walk through. Even as the winter solstice approached, the sigil bees were buzzing, and various hardier plants like the rosemary were flowering. A few of the less potent myrvites dotted the garden, like sparkleberry, though it didn¡¯t have berries this time of year. Most of the brushes and trees were evergreens of some type, so it was still lush and beautiful.

    It was exactly what Mirian needed. Time to breathe. Time to relax. When it was nearly time to start classes, she found a small bench beneath a pagoda. It was sheltered from view by the surrounding bushes, and there was no one around. She opened up her satchel and got out the second, smaller satchel she¡¯d lifted from the first spy.

    The scroll that had fallen out last time was in there. In a second pouch inside it, she found a string of coral beadcoins, twelve silver drachms, two decadrachms, and a gold doubloon. Her eyes ballooned. Forget taking out a loan, this was tuition, rent, supplies, and fine dining for the whole year! Heck, she could send money back to her parents. Well, if it mattered, she thought. She stashed it back in the small compartment, checking to see if anyone had seen. Carrying that kind of money made her nervous. It wasn¡¯t much for someone like Nicolus, probably, but it was more than she¡¯d ever had at once.

    In another compartment was a set of glyphkeys and a lock-picking set. The keys were unlabeled, but it looked a lot like the one that went to Myrvite Studies. They certainly belonged to the Academy. In the final pouch was a rounded stone covered in glyphs. It was small enough to fit in a pocket. She peered at the glyphs. A lot of them had to do with location. Another had to do with electromagnetism, and¡ª

    Mirian paused. The pouch it had came from had a wire weave running through it. Oh shit, she thought. Suddenly, she knew what the stone was. It was a seeker-stone. They were used to track things. She panicked and hurled the stone as far into the bushes as she could, closed up the satchel, then hurried away from the area.

    As she hurried toward the Artificer¡¯s Tower for class, she realized the small metal weave probably prevented the tracking stone from being detected until it was deployed and that she could have just put it back in the pouch, but it was probably for the best she¡¯d gotten rid of it. She didn¡¯t know the spell that could locate it, but was sure the Akanan spies had a wand or artificer¡¯s device that could home in on it. The field of divination had all sorts of tricks in it she didn¡¯t know, so better safe than sorry. The last thing she wanted was to end up in a jail cell again. Four days was agony. Getting caught at the start of a cycle? She didn¡¯t know if she could stand it. And given that Captain Mandez was willing to abuse prisoners by withholding water and blankets, she could imagine if she got imprisoned without the knowledge of the magistrate, a lot worse could happen to her.

    She made her way into the building and headed for her class.

 Chapter 24 - Lunch and A Story

    Mirian presented her clay cube to the class for the third time. By now, she¡¯d condensed her speech considerably, and had a good answer to all of Professor Torres¡¯s questions. She also wasn¡¯t particularly worried about what her peers would think of her because they¡¯d all be dead within the month. It was a morbid thought, but also, she still wasn¡¯t sure what she could do to change that.

    After the bored silence of the class and the ¡°Good, you pass,¡± from Torres, Mirian moved closer to her professor so she could talk to her while the next student was setting up her project. ¡°Professor, I know the clay cube is not my best work. However, I ran out of money, and only just got the letter of credit from my parents to get more. May I be excused to go make a serious project? I¡¯m planning on taking your 426 class next quarter, and I¡¯d like to start on that.¡±

    Torres frowned. ¡°I¡¯d like you to see the critique of your peers¡¯ projects. Let¡¯s talk after class.¡±

    Mirian relented and sat back down. What she really wanted was Torres to comment on her spellrod design. That would have happened eventually during the mid-quarter presentations that had been scheduled, but then Akana Praediar had decided everyone in Torrviol must die, ruining her homework assignment.

    She had to find humor in it, Mirian realized, or the horror would overwhelm her.

    So she completely ignored the presentation and started on her spellrod design. The class was nearly two hours, so it gave her plenty of time to recreate what she remembered from scratch. She¡¯d spent whole days slaving away at the design, so it was burned into her mind. A few of the mana-flow transformations she¡¯d forgotten, but she could do the math in her head so she just calculated the numbers right there, labeling the diagram. As always, she put her artistic flair on the design. When it came to the combat-mode, she hesitated. Before, she¡¯d only had two spells, the force shield and the blades, but she needed more than that. Also, she now knew the spies had wands of lightning, so she needed a grounding spell. She frowned. Her rod was based around glyphs that produced and manipulated kinetic and arcane energy. If she wanted a bunch of spells using electromagnetism, she would need to change the design from the ground up. She ended up just copying the exact design she¡¯d used last month (Gods, was it ever not going to be the month of Solem again?) and started sketching out concepts for a different rod on the next page.

    By then, presentations were over. She patiently waited for two students to finish their conversation with Torres about their ¡®protective talisman¡¯ that couldn¡¯t protect against an angry toddler and had more silver filigree than a jeweler¡¯s shop.

    ¡°Ah, Mirian, right?¡±

    She launched right into her planned speech: ¡°Yes, professor. As I was saying, I¡¯d heard from another student you were planning on having students do a spellrod project in Artifice Design 426, and was wondering if I could get early permission to use the Academy facilities. I was also looking to get feedback on my design.¡±

    Professor Torres¡¯s composure was always calm, but her eyes had narrowed slightly. ¡°Interesting. May I see your design?¡±

    Mirian showed her. Torres asked her several questions about the methodology, where she¡¯d gotten the ideas from, and about the mechanics of the rotating cylinders.

    ¡°Are you combat certified?¡± she asked.

    Mirian sighed. ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then you know what I¡¯m about to say,¡± she said, and pointed at the top portion of the scepter. Mirian hadn¡¯t explained that part, but anyone who knew glyphs could easily figure out what that part did.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I can, uh, change that part. Well, I could also try to get combat certified in the next few weeks.¡±

    ¡°Either would suffice,¡± Torres said. ¡°My next question is why you think I¡¯m teaching Artifice Design 426 next quarter.¡±

    Mirian frowned. ¡°I, uh¡­ heard¡­?¡±

    ¡°From who?¡±

    ¡°Another student. I don¡¯t remember his name.¡±

    ¡°How convenient,¡± Torres said, and Mirian realized she¡¯d screwed up somehow. ¡°Professor Song Jei is scheduled to teach that class.¡±

    ¡°Professor Jei!¡± Mirian said, brightening. Then, ¡°Wait. She is?¡± It was still the first day. There was no way stopping the spy had changed who was teaching the courses that fast. Unless¡­ unless Professor Jei had always been originally intended to teach the course, but something happened that meant Torres took over the class prior to registration. What happened to Professor Jei, anyways? Mirian had assumed the Academy just let her focus everything on the big secret project she wouldn¡¯t talk about. She thought back to the evacuation of Torrviol. Had Professor Jei been a part of the professor¡¯s company that had protected the column? She didn¡¯t recall seeing her.

    ¡°She is,¡± Torres confirmed. ¡°I have another question. Where did you get the idea to create a spellrod?¡±

    ¡°I heard¡­ uh¡­ it was going to be one of the projects next quarter.¡±

    ¡°From a nameless student, perhaps? One with no identifiable features at all?¡±

    Now Mirian knew she was caught. ¡°Exactly,¡± she said, and decided to take a different approach. ¡°Does anyone know about the 500 year-old Persaman spellrod you have?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Torres said. ¡°And none of them are within a hundred miles. Would you walk with me? I usually take my lunch at the King of the Grill diner. It¡¯s just a block down. It looks out on the fish market and Torrviol Lake.¡±

    Mirian belatedly realized she was being invited to lunch, sort of. ¡°Uh, yeah. Sure.¡± As they walked out the classroom, Mirian said, ¡°You¡¯re taking this weird stuff I¡¯m dishing out pretty well, it seems.¡±

    ¡°My mentor once said to me, ¡®if something is strange, investigate.¡¯¡±

    ¡°And who was that?¡±

    ¡°Professor Viridian,¡± she said.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°He¡¯s a good teacher,¡± Mirian said. ¡°So, first, a demonstration. I¡¯ve seen the spellrod you have. I can describe what it looks like and what it does, and I can diagram the glyphs as a functionality tree, like you taught me.¡± And she did. She¡¯d seen it over the course of several classes in the two cycles before this one, and had studied it carefully both times. She glanced at Professor Torres as they walked, and to her credit, her face betrayed no emotion at all. Apparently, the total lack of emotions and tone shifts wasn¡¯t just something she put on to teach, it was just how she operated.

    Mirian kept talking as they walked from the Artificer¡¯s Tower to the nearby King of the Grill. It was a little establishment that clearly had once been a house, but had since been transformed into a cozy restaurant. The exterior was nicely decorated with tasteful scrollwork along the wooden facade, while the inside had colorful cloth drapes that brought a sense of warmth to the place. The smell of the place wafted from several stove pipes protruding from the roof. Just approaching it, she could nearly taste the mouth-watering aroma of roasting meats and vegetables. Torres led them straight through the place and onto the back porch, where several tables were already set with gold-rimmed ceramic plates. Fresh, cold air from the lake wafted past them, but little magical heaters warmed the table. There was only one chair ready, but a waiter quickly brought a second without comment, all while Mirian talked.

    When she was done, she asked, ¡°So, what explanations do you have for my knowledge?¡±

    ¡°Several,¡± Torres said. ¡°None of them are likely. Having graded several of your assignments, I know your expertise in magic is insufficient to break into my apartment. I find it equally unlikely you managed to talk to my distant acquaintances, and just as unlikely you were able to guess so many exact details of the scepter. It is interesting. I had just been thinking about how if I did end up teaching the next course in the series, that the spellrod would be a perfect demonstration of the concepts the course requires mastery of. However, I have not yet discussed it with anyone.¡±

    ¡°What are your thoughts on time travel?¡±

    ¡°The same as speculation as to the composition of the moons. Perhaps in the distant future, it will be possible to pursue that line of inquiry. There¡¯s no point wasting time thinking about it now.¡±

    ¡°The sacred texts of the Luminate Order speak of prophets and the movement of time. Could the Gods do it?¡±

    ¡°As a rule, I do not discuss matters of faith,¡± she said.

    The waiter interrupted them briefly. ¡°The usual, Iliyia?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Torres said.

    ¡°And you?¡±

    ¡°The daily meal,¡± Mirian said. That was usually the cheapest option, and given the spices she was smelling, whoever the chef was knew what he was doing. She¡¯d trust their judgment.

    The view from the porch was splendid. Given where it was on the edge of town and the position of the porch, they could see everything from the forest to the north and around to the fish market and Torrviol Lake. Hardly any part of Torrviol itself was visible, so Mirian could imagine they were nestled in a remote wilderness. Little brown birds flitted about the nearby bushes, while the occasional magpie swooped by, chattering loudly. Combined with the tactful decorations, the whole place felt peaceful and homely.

    They sat there for some time before Iliyia Torres finally spoke. ¡°You have implied you are time traveling.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian said. ¡°This is the third time I¡¯ve woken up on the 1st of Solem with a hole in my roof. I don¡¯t know why. No one else I¡¯ve talked to remembers, just me. Some further proof: I just gave a statement to the guards about a spy who I helped catch trying to sneak into the Myrvite Studies building. You can check with Professor Viridian about that. I knew the spy would be there with a stolen glyphkey, which is also how I knew to stuff the lock full of brass filings. I also know the guards will probably let the guy escape, because Captain Mandez is probably working with the Akanan spies.¡±

    ¡°How do you know they¡¯re Akanan spies?¡± Torres asked.

    ¡°Another piece of evidence,¡± she said, and brought out her bag, and then the satchel in it. She got out the scroll and handed it over. ¡°It¡¯s written in Eskavar, and I lost it last go around, so I don¡¯t actually know what it says yet. I was going to get a, uh, friend, who I haven¡¯t met yet, to translate it.¡±

    Torres unrolled the scroll and frowned at it. ¡°No need. It¡¯s written in a cipher.¡± She handed the scroll back.

    ¡°Huh. Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.¡± The spies in the novels she¡¯d read did that sometimes. Then the protagonist would decode it using some clever trick, but Mirian had no clue how that actually worked.

    ¡°Why are you trusting me with this information?¡±

    ¡°Initially, I wasn¡¯t going to, but one of my goals this go around is to figure out ways I can demonstrate foreknowledge. I had no idea you weren¡¯t actually scheduled to teach 426 next quarter, because when I go to register, it¡¯s your name on the list.¡± Mirian hesitated. Here was the part that lost even Lily. ¡°Also, I know you''re not working with the Akanan conspiracy here in town because when the Akanans attacked, you and a bunch of the professors helped defend the evacuation of the Torrviol. You died fighting.¡±

    Torres raised an eyebrow. ¡°I died?¡±

    Mirian forced a grim smile. ¡°Everyone died. That¡¯s why I¡¯m back at the beginning again.¡±

    ¡°It sounds¡­ quite unbelievable.¡±

    ¡°Oh, believe me, I know. I couldn¡¯t convince anyone until the day before the attack. Like, I kinda convinced my roommate, but she only sort of believed it and I think she was really just trying to be supportive for her friend so she went along with it.¡± The waiter brought by the meals. Both involved grilled fish and vegetables, as one might have expected from the name of the place, though Torres had a sauce glazed over hers that Mirian could feel the hot spices from on her side of the table.

    As the food was set out and they ate, Mirian told Torres the details of the attack. How there was probably an early warning sign, but she never read about it in the newspapers. About how the Baracuel military arrived at the last minute to try and defend the town, about the failure of the wards along the road, and about the colossal airships that had overrun the defenses and slaughtered everyone mercilessly.

    Professor Torres sat and listened without comment until she finished. Then she sat in stony silence.

    Mirian made a face. ¡°As I said, I know it¡¯s all totally unbelievable.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± Torres said. ¡°The real reason you want to skip the other presentations is you¡¯ve seen them all.¡±

    She laughed. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m so sick of seeing Matthias sputter through why he decided to use a gold-wire node, but used no chimera-bone in his capacitors to compensate for the faster flow-rate. And Laurin probably uses more ¡®ums¡¯ than I did the first time, which was a lot.¡±

    Torres considered this. ¡°Those presentations are scheduled for tomorrow. Give me more details about what you say happens.¡± After Mirian did, she said, ¡°I will excuse you from the rest of my classes this quarter and add your name to the list of students able to use the Academy craft facilities this evening. You may pursue your spellrod project, though I will not approve any combat designs until you are properly certified. You should know that my word is my bond. I do not share secrets.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, professor,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I just ask you be careful with the guards and the spies. If you believe me about the invasion, I hope you¡¯ll spread the word about it as much as you can. You have contacts in the Baracuel army, right?¡± Her special spell engine design was being used in basically every new vehicle the Baracuel military produced.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Torres said simply. ¡°It costs me nothing to grant your first request. In the meantime, I can more thoroughly investigate your extraordinary claim, and consider the others. I should be clear that I do not believe it, but it will be interesting to see what I discover by exploring it.¡± The food was long since finished. She rose.

    ¡°Oh, uh¡­ how much do I owe you¡­ what part do I owe for the food?¡±

    ¡°I invited you, therefore I have covered it. Money is not something I have to worry about anymore.¡± Of course, Mirian realized. She¡¯d probably made a small fortune off that spell engine design of hers.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said, and they left. Torres went back to the Artificer¡¯s building, and Mirian off to Arcane Mathematics. She felt good about it. Professor Torres had, at the very least, not called her a raving lunatic. And it might lead to the early evacuation of Torrviol. Maybe that¡¯s what the Gods were looking for; if she saved enough lives, the cycle would end.

    But now she had to figure out what happened to Professor Song Jei.

 Chapter 25 - Calisto

    Arcane Mathematics was one of the few courses Mirian was perfectly happy to listen and take notes in. The third time through was just as valuable as the second, maybe more so. Even now she still had to ask questions¡ªthey were just different questions this time. Another application of the math Professor Jei was teaching might result in more accurate mana flow equations, which in turn could lead to much higher efficiency gains in even devices as simple as wands. Then she wondered: If arcane energy flowed through a fourth spatial dimension, could people? She¡¯d always been told teleportation was for stories, and there was no physical basis for it actually being possible. But it was mathematically possible, that she could see. The equations didn¡¯t change when the energy type changed, as long as there was a mana conduit. Arcane energy conduits could be built around matter, too, not just energy, it was just going to take magnitudes more mana. No person could have enough auric mana, but she wondered¡ªif spell engines could lift an airship as big as the ones she¡¯d seen during the attack, could it power a genuine teleportation spell?

    She didn¡¯t actually ask the question in front of the whole class. It still felt silly to consider.

    After class, Mirian was tired as anything. She still wasn¡¯t quite sure how it worked, but it sure felt like whether or not she¡¯d eaten or slept mattered when the month repeated. Now there was a question she had no clue how to answer. How was the time travel happening? Her physics classes had made it pretty clear time travel was impossible. Only the prophets knew the future, and that was knowledge bestowed upon them by the Gods. But Mirian was starting to come up with her own theory about that. What if the prophets had experienced what she was experiencing? What she needed to do was investigate the stories about them. Mirian had always made sure to go to the temple each week and tried to be a good member of the Luminate Order. It wasn¡¯t like she tried to fall asleep during sermons, but like history class, something about the droning voices and setting just made it easy to slip into sleep.

    Still, Mirian had important things to learn today. Like, where did Professor Jei go after class? Where exactly was this secret research project of hers taking place¡ªor was that just a rumor going around?

    As the class got out, Mirian decided to do a bit of light spying. She was supposed to meet Nicolus at Bainrose in ten minutes, but she deliberately lingered, taking her time paging through her notes, then slowly putting them away. Then she slowly made her way outside. The class took place in the Griffin Hall, which was just one of the generic lecture halls, not a special math building. Mirian pulled her enchanted cloak on and sat down on one of the public benches outside it and waited for Jei to emerge.

    And waited.

    It was strange; as far as Mirian knew, the lecture hall only had one exit, and she¡¯d been the last one out of class. What was Jei doing in there? Maybe she was just taking her time. Mirian wasn¡¯t going to find out today. Bainrose wasn¡¯t far, but Mirian didn¡¯t want to be late. She abandoned her world¡¯s shittiest stake-out operation and hurried to the castle. Sure enough, Nicolus and Nurea were there¡ªbut so was a third person.

    Calisto.

    That threw a wrench in her plan.

    As far as Mirian should know, this was normal and Calisto was just part of the serious study group. As she approached, she could hear Nicolus was arguing with her.

    ¡°¡ªand I¡¯ve already said I don¡¯t have any input on family business, not until I¡¯m a full adult, which is next year.¡±

    Calisto said, ¡°But you do have a voice in family affairs, and I¡¯ve outlined all the ways the arrangement would benefit both of us. You can¡¯t back out now.¡±

    Nicolus sighed. ¡°Nur? Any help?¡±

    Nurea shrugged. ¡°You got into this mess, against my advice, I might add. You can extricate yourself.¡± Noticing Mirian, she said, ¡°Your new study partner is here.¡±

    ¡°Uh, hi,¡± said Mirian eloquently.

    ¡°Is this your new maneuver, Nicolus?¡± Calisto said, looking at Mirian as if she were a nasty insect that had just shown up.

    ¡°Did you want to study for the exam tomorrow or not? Hi, uh, Mirian, right? This is Sire Nurea March, my tutor who does other stuff too and¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªCalisto. Nice to meet you.¡± She said this in a way that made it abundantly clear it was not nice to meet her at all.

    If it had gone down like this the first time, Mirian would have fled the premises and just studied by herself. This time, she needed to get close to Nicolus and figure out his role in all this, so she endured it and said, ¡°Nice to meet you too. Where¡¯s the study room?¡±

    They made their way into the private study room Nurea had reserved for them. All the books and notecards were laid out in neat piles. They got to work, with Mirian doing her best to keep the group on task. It was a good thing she already knew the concepts pretty well, because the constant subtle rhetorical jabs Nicolus and Calisto kept launching at each other were quite distracting. Mirian didn¡¯t want to pry, because she was sure that would get Calisto to start coming after her like a half-starved bog lion that just saw prey, but she tried to pick up on what exactly the problem they had with each other was.

    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    From what she could tell, Nicolus and Calisto had known each other in preparatory school in Palendurio and dated. Calisto came from a family of wealthy merchants who ran trade routes across Baracuel, mostly procuring special materials and magic items from the Labyrinth and distributing them to wherever paid most. Mirian knew from history class (she paid attention sometimes) that Labyrinth materials had made up a key part of the economy even a hundred years ago. Then the spell engine revolution had totally eclipsed them. Nicolus had been interested in Calisto and her connections, until he hadn¡¯t.

    ¡°Tell your family to trade with Akana Praediar, or get a majority of the spellforges or factories in a city,¡± Nicolus said at one point.

    Calisto replied, ¡°You know the Palamas and Corrmier families have strangleholds on those! And it¡¯s the Akanan companies who own all the trade across the Rift Sea¡ªhelped by Akanan tariffs as a matter of policy, I might add.¡±

    ¡°Oh, interesting. So you¡¯re saying you can¡¯t access the wealthiest and most critical trade and industries? Interesting. Very interesting.¡±

    ¡°But you know what all of them need? Key, rare materials found only in certain sections of the Labyrinth. Hmm, now what if the supply of them was constrained by a certain family who had all the¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªand if that was a reality and not just talk, you might be on to something, but the shifting nature of the Labyrinth means there¡¯s no way that¡ª¡±

    Mirian finally said, ¡°Uh, this is fascinating, but can we get back to the magichemical flashcards?¡±

    Calisto alternated between sweet and sour, flipping instantly depending on what she thought would get her whatever she wanted. Sometimes she would toss her wavy red and blond hair back and give a flirty smile to Nicolus, and other times she would fix him with a death glare that made it look like she was about to bite him. Here, she fixed Mirian with a death-glare, then immediately swapped demeanor and said with buttery sweetness, ¡°oh of course!¡±

    That lasted for about ten more minutes, and then mana-enriched bauxite came up in the flashcards and Calisto made a comment about how, oh, wasn¡¯t that a pretty critical component of spell engine production? And Nicolus couldn¡¯t resist saying no, there were like five different alternatives depending on the production method.

    Mirian quickly found herself gathering the mother-of-all headaches. It didn¡¯t help that she¡¯d been blown apart by artillery about twelve hours ago, and in a prison cell twelve hours before that. It was impressive just how much financial and industrial stuff they both knew. She guessed that was what you learned when you were part of a rich and powerful family like that. If you weren¡¯t coddled, that was. She¡¯d also met rich students who didn¡¯t know which end of the broom was used for sweeping.

    Mirian¡¯s childhood hadn¡¯t been full of studying supply chains. Her parents had just done honest labor, her mom working in a woodshop and her dad working at the local school. Remembering her family, Mirian felt sad. She couldn¡¯t wait to be in the Kiroscent Dome, her family applauding as she walked across the stage to get her official certification as a Royal Arcanist. She couldn¡¯t wait to give her little brother Zayd a big hug where she picked him up and squeezed him and then held him in the air while spinning and he laughed. Was that ever going to happen now?

    Busy being miserable with her headache and thoughts, Mirian found herself tuning out the next argument between Calisto and Nicolus. She started paging through one of the textbooks, trying to remember which magichemical transformations she needed for tomorrow.

    Nurea noticed what page she was on in the textbook and said, ¡°Nicolus said Seneca didn¡¯t cover that in the review.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but I think she just ran out of time. We covered them in class, so I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be on there.¡±

    Nurea briefly considered this, then nodded. ¡°Back to the review,¡± she said, not very loudly, but to their credit, both Calisto and Nicolus shut up and got back to work.

    It was interesting. This was a very different Nicolus than the one Mirian had met that first session. Far less confident, far less controlled. ¡°Is it always like this?¡± Mirian whispered to Nurea after they had eaten and were wrapping up.

    ¡°When they¡¯re together? Yes. Otherwise, no.¡± The knight sighed, still keeping her voice at a whisper so Nicolus didn¡¯t overhear. ¡°My apologies, I should have stepped in. But the boy needs to learn¡­.¡± She left the last part implied, but told her, ¡°He might not have noticed your expertise in Alchemistry, but I did. I would be happy to invite you to any future study groups. And I will try to make them¡­ more productive.¡±

    ¡°I would appreciate that,¡± Mirian said, and then said her goodbyes.

    On her way back, the streets of Torrviol were lit by puddles of glyph-light and Mirian kept her cloak off, letting the cold air wake her up. Getting the meetings started with Nicolus would let her start figuring out what he knew and how he knew it. Hopefully, if any of this happened again, she could find a way to avoid Calisto.

    Mirian went back up to her Dormitory and changed out the storage tin full of water, dumping it out the window. When it was only rainwater filling it up, the tin seemed to do the trick. She set it back down and realized: Gods above, she should just visit the wood shop. They had all sorts of scrap left over, most of which got burned. Then a simple shape wood spell would give it a water-tight seal. She could probably find copper scraps for the roof and water heater in the metal shop. Why hadn¡¯t she thought of that before?

    Well, she could do it tomorrow. Today, she was exhausted. In a final act of endurance, she jotted down reminders of all the things she needed to do in her journal as she headed back down the stairs.

    ¡°Hey,¡± she said to Lily when she finally entered the room. She was at her desk, spellbook open, transcribing an enhanced spell.

    ¡°Was that you upstairs? Welcome back, by the way, you were certainly out late.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Busy day. I¡¯ll tell you about it later. Feel free to stay up studying, nothing is going to stop me from sleeping tonight.¡± She checked to make sure Lily wasn¡¯t watching her and stashed the satchel she¡¯d taken off the spy deep under the bed.

    ¡°You better tell me.¡±

    ¡°Tomorrow,¡± Mirian said, yawned, and was out within minutes of hitting the bed.

 Chapter 26 - Progression

    She dreamed again. She might have expected the nightmares to come from the massacre of the south hills, or be of looming airships following her, but instead it was the dreams she couldn¡¯t fathom the meaning of. She dreamed she was in the Labyrinth, halls twisting and turning. As she moved, passages closed up and left behind dirt, while new ones of metalloids and stone knit themselves together. There was a beating pulse beneath her, a warm thing that slithered about, and she knew she must follow it. When she tried to behold it, the vision of it slipped from her eyes, like it was an aftershadow. When she tried to hear it, it was as if the sound was just at the threshold of her hearing. When she tried to touch it, it was always just out of reach. It was as if her hand was so close she could feel the heat from her finger tips radiating back, but when she closed her hand, it was always empty.

    Then there was a wailing, an endless scream that came from high above. Beneath, the pulse she had been seeking withered, and a terrible fear wormed into her. Something had gone wrong. Something was crying for help.

    When Mirian woke, she lay there, trying to figure out what. She was sure the dream meant something. There was a pattern to these dreams that she remembered.

    She looked over to the alarm candle. The nails looked like they¡¯d fall out in an hour. Maybe two. Gods, she was up early. She tried to go back to sleep, but just lay there, mind racing with all the things she needed to do. There was just too much. Mirian reluctantly abandoned her warm covers and started her day.

    This early in the morning, prism moths were still fluttering about. Normally, it was cloudy enough they looked like normal moths, but this morning, in the light of the twinkling Divir moon, their pale wings trailed a faint mist that shone like a rainbow. For some reason, their wings only glowed in the light of the Divir moon. The Luamin moon didn¡¯t do the trick, even though it was much larger. Mirian just liked watching them flutter about. They gave the pre-dawn morning a sense of calm and beauty.

    She went to Bainrose. Given the early hour, the guard told her, ¡°The librarian isn¡¯t in,¡± when she asked to enter. When she told him the librarian didn¡¯t need to be there for him to let her in, he made up some bogus rule about how there were supposed to be a minimum number of people present in Bainrose at all times and he couldn¡¯t let her in until the librarian returned. It might have fooled a second year who still didn¡¯t quite know how things worked, but Mirian knew he was lying. That was good to know; he was tasked with keeping people out. It meant the spies were doing something in Bainrose.

    It was cold, but she had her cloak and the weather still hadn¡¯t turned as cold as it would in a few days. She said, ¡°Then I¡¯ll wait.¡± She sat on the bench just outside and continued work on her second spellrod design. The glyph light by the library was plenty illumination. It also let her keep an eye out on the front entrance.

    The guard became uncomfortable. He clearly wanted to tell her to piss off, but couldn¡¯t think of a reason for it. Eventually, he walked in. When he came out, another man was walking beside him, and Mirian also caught a glimpse of the night shift librarian through the door.

    The man walking out was familiar. It was the one she mentally had categorized as ¡®cloaked figure three,¡¯ the one who could cast minor illusion spells. He¡¯d done just that; his blond hair was now brown, and his face subtly transformed.

    ¡°Oh, I see the librarian,¡± Mirian said. ¡°May I come in now?¡±

    The guard looked annoyed, but he said, ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s up with the rule change?¡± Mirian asked the librarian.

    ¡°What rule change?¡± she asked. When Mirian explained what the guard had told her, she said, ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound¡ª¡± but then she froze and looked toward the door. ¡°I¡¯ll have to check with my supervisor,¡± she said. ¡°Sometimes they forget to tell me these things. Do you need any help finding the book you¡¯re looking for?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯ve got it. Thanks.¡±

    Combat magic was on the first basement floor, and given how long the certification had been around, several people had written guides and explainers about the process and the spells involved. Mirian had a few of the spells already¡ªSelf Defense was a required class at Torrviol, after all¡ªbut these were the kind that involved a shock that couldn¡¯t kill a mouse at full power, or force razor, which had the power to give people nasty paper cuts. Actually, paper cuts were probably more deadly.

    The combat certification first involved a check on the person¡¯s spellbook to make sure they had each relevant spell on a separate page, all the spells were transcribed correctly, and that it was just a spellbook. Some people had apparently started hiding miniature spell engines inside fake books to pretend they could cast spells, which involved paying an artificer a lot of money to commit fraud, which was a hefty fine for either of them if they got caught. It was another one of those examples of a few morons ruining something for everyone. She also would need to prepare three wands, each with a prescribed combat spell. This also struck her as wasteful.

    Next, she had to take a test on when it was proper to use the spells. It seemed like the questions were very basic, like, ¡°are you allowed to cast fire spells at your neighbor after he¡¯s annoyed you?¡± to which the answer was obviously, ¡°no.¡± No wonder people like Platus wanted to pursue combat degrees.

    Finally, she had to demonstrate using the spells against a target while a supervisory mage watched over. The mage would also be using an item that measured various properties of the spell to make sure she was demonstrating enough competence that the spell wouldn¡¯t do something it wasn¡¯t supposed to, like blow her arm off, or blow the arm off of someone who was standing nearby. It made sense, given the kinds of energy that a proper combat spell could unleash. Still, this was Combat Certification I. There were four other levels beyond it. This one didn¡¯t even certify her for the classic fireball.

    It was legal to possess the first level combat spells, but only to practice them on a range. No one had better tell the frost scarabites that, they might report me, Mirian thought sardonically. She started transcribing the spells. Her ink kit had most of what she needed. Naturally, one of the spells required baduka boar ink, the one she didn''t have. Just little ways the universe was constantly mocking her.

    After nearly an hour, she had transcribed three spells and dawn was starting to illuminate the big stained glass windows of the main floor. She checked out one of the books, then headed over to the crafting facilities. They were closed still, and the woman working by the gate didn¡¯t want to let her in.

    ¡°I just need some wood scraps and a bit of copper,¡± she said. ¡°Stuff that you¡¯ll burn or throw out anyways. There¡¯s a leak above my room and maintenance has said they¡¯re too busy. I just¡­ I¡¯m so sick of water dripping down into my room. Please?¡±

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Her piteous demeanor seemed to do the trick. The woman relented, though she still watched as Mirian picked through one of the scrap piles.

    Then it was back to the dorm. Patching up the holes was no problem with shape wood, but she didn¡¯t have the full spell for repairing metal. Mirian paged through her spellbook. She realized she had all the glyphs she needed, they were just all on different pages. It wasn¡¯t safe to start casting, then flip back and forth rapidly between pages¡­ but it would work, wouldn¡¯t it?

    Twice, she fizzled the spell, and the third time, she accidentally punched a hole in the wall plaster (and winced, hoping she hadn¡¯t woken anyone up). But the fourth time, it worked¡ªactually worked! She beamed with pride, and in a demonstration of infinite beneficence, turned the hot water back on.

    A yelp downstairs told her maybe next time she should check the showers first. What kind of psycho took cold showers, though?

    Triumphant, Mirian headed back to her room. It was time to talk to Lily.

    She¡¯d considered what to say. In the end, she couldn¡¯t bear the thought of her best friend dying. Mirian wanted her to come along. That meant saying something. ¡°Hey roomie,¡± she said.

    Lily gave her a look. ¡°How long have you been up?¡±

    ¡°Not gonna talk about that. Listen, you¡¯ve known me for over five years now. Do I just make stuff up?¡±

    ¡°Sometimes.¡±

    ¡°I¡ªwhat? No I don¡¯t!¡±

    Lily laughed. ¡°Most of the time you don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Okay, so you know the hole above my bed that appeared yesterday? Pretty weird, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Did you figure out what did that?¡±

    ¡°No, but it¡¯s the third time it¡¯s happened to me. It¡¯s the third time I¡¯ve woken up on the 1st of Solem. The Academy is going to be attacked by Akana Praediar on the 28th. By the night of the 28th, basically everyone in Torrviol is dead. I tried to¡ªlet me finish. I tried to stop it last time, no one believed me. I understand that. What I¡¯m saying sounds insane. But it¡¯s true. So, couple of problems: most of the things I can predict have other explanations. The other is that people change what they do if I tell them. However, yesterday I stopped an Akanan spy who was trying to break into the Myrvite Studies building. And I stole a bag off another one that was hopping around on the roof.¡±

    ¡°You stole a bag? Mirian, you can¡¯t just steal from people¡ª¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re going to get everyone in town killed! They¡¯re pure evil, you¡¯re totally allowed to steal from evil people.¡± Mirian fished the bag out from under her bed. ¡°Look, check out this scroll.¡±

    Lily¡¯s eyes were wide and she was looking at Mirian like she¡¯d grown two more heads. She took the scroll and opened it up, then kept glancing back and forth between it and Mirian before she said, ¡°Okay, obviously I can¡¯t read it. Are you sure this is written in Eskanar? I don¡¯t even recognize a single word.¡±

    ¡°Professor Torres said it was in a cipher.¡±

    ¡°Wait, you showed this to one of your professors?¡±

    ¡°It came up. I can predict more stuff that happens in her classes because I¡¯ve been there. For you¡­ well, I just know the stories you tell, I wasn¡¯t there. And it¡¯s not 100%, it might change. But you do meet someone named Selesia tomorrow. And don¡¯t get all weird on her when that happens, because I don¡¯t want that to change!¡± Mirian told her a few things Lily would complain about in the next few days. ¡®A few¡¯ was all she could manage. The first go around she¡¯d been harried by the maintenance issue, so it was just the last cycle she was thinking of.

    Lily said, ¡°I¡­ do I need to call a healer? I mean, I can also escort you to the hospital or temple. Are you sure that¡­ one of the professors might be able to help?¡±

    Mirian wanted to sigh, but restrained herself. She said that last time, too. ¡°You need some time. Just¡­ look for the things I mentioned. I¡¯ll see you after classes, alright? And I¡¯m still Mirian, even if I¡¯m saying stuff only a crazy person would say. Oh, and don¡¯t go spreading around the scroll-thing, okay? Captain Mandez is on the payroll of the Akanan spies and I am not going to prison again. Anyways, we both have class to get to. See you later!¡±

    Lily¡¯s mouth opened. ¡°Wait. Mirian. You¡¯re not going to what!? Mirian! You can not just drop that and leave!¡±

    ¡°Sorry! Alchemistry exam today! Still planning on graduating just in case I don¡¯t die!¡±

    On reflection, that was probably not the best way to end the conversation, but Mirian needed to go. Having your best friend think you¡¯d turned into a Gods-touched lunatic was not a good feeling.

    During the Alchemistry exam, Professor Seneca was doing the usual thing where the worry on her face increased as she walked around and looked at people¡¯s exams, causing a trail of despair in her wake as people realized they were getting things wrong. But when she glanced at Mirian¡¯s test, she did a double-take, raised an eyebrow, gave a small smile, and then kept walking. Well, third try¡¯s the charm, Mirian thought. It didn¡¯t look like Nicolus was having as good a time. Bickering with Calisto probably hadn¡¯t helped him focus.

    This time, Viridian had a bright smile on his face as usual, and had brought a plant. It didn¡¯t look like much; it was a thin pale stalk topped by a little purple flower that glimmered like a faint star. It was also completely encased in two layers of glass, with warding glyphs all over it.

    He placed his hand on top of the glass bell covering it, and said, ¡°This is Violet Wispsorrow, a tiny flower capable of powerful illusion magic. It won¡¯t kill you, but it can entrance you for hours. You should be able to derive the magichemical it produces and its ecological relation to the Labyrinth just from what I¡¯ve told you and what you know about the other myrvites in the marsh ecology.¡±

    The class was silent. Even Valen was silent this time.

    For once, Mirian raised her hand. ¡°It produces a spectrophosphate,¡± she said. She was pretty sure that was right.

    ¡°Quite right!¡± Professor Viridian said, absolutely beaming. That made her feel pretty good. All her extra Alchemistry work was paying off.

    As Viridian started his lecture, it also gave Mirian an idea. She¡¯d been thinking that combat spells were the best way to deal with the spies¡ªbut what if she could use illusion magic to get the spies to tell her stuff? And better convince people of things? The problem was twofold, though. One, she didn¡¯t know Eskanar, and two she didn¡¯t know illusion magic. She had maybe three illusion spells in her spellbook, and geometric image, which created simple things like illusionary cubes, pyramids, or spheres, was actually from one of her math classes.

    If she was going to be stuck in this month, there was no reason not to take advantage of that.

    After class, she was free for the next few hours since Torres had given her permission to skip. First she went to the Tower Trust bank and established a much larger line of credit, depositing most of the coins she¡¯d found in the satchel, but with the option to take out a loan worth twice as much. She was sure not to deposit the exact amount she¡¯d stolen, as the guards would no doubt be asking about that, and happily chatted with the banker about how proud she was of her father for getting a new promotion. Mentally she was thinking teachers don¡¯t get promotions, but the banker was only interested in checking the weight of her coins, not her family history. He asked where the money came from for regulatory purposes; he didn¡¯t actually care.

    The bank then issued her notes she could exchange with any of the local merchants. They all knew Tower Trust was reliable. Armed with this infusion of money, she got herself a new glyph pen with a chimera-and-gold alloy catalyst and a fresh set of glyph-nibs. Then she started stocking up on the materials she¡¯d need for a really nice spellrod. Silver wire was for people who weren¡¯t taking advantage of the imminent doom of Torrviol; it was only gold wire for her from here on out. She could use all the caudicite and corundum she wanted. Mirian was giddy at the opportunity. However, acquiring the credit and the materials (and lunch) was all she had time for before math class.

    Mirian paid close attention to the Arcane Mathematics lesson, then just as she had before, she waited outside the lecture hall to see where Professor Jei went. Once again, though, she didn¡¯t emerge. This time, Mirian waited nearly a half hour. Finally, she walked back into the lecture hall to see if the mathematics professor was just in the classroom for some reason. But she wasn¡¯t. Mirian checked around, but couldn¡¯t find any other exits. Five hells¡ªhad Professor Jei gone out the window or something? How had she left Griffin Hall?

    Baffled, there was little for Mirian to do but return to her dorm. After all, she had duels to go to, and a new friend to meet. Friend, she thought, with a pang of regret. Maybe she could convince Selesia to come with her when she left too, and they might become something more. Gods, watching her die like that¡­ watching them all die¡­. Mirian shivered. She had to make little jokes to herself about it all, because otherwise she really was going to turn into a full-on lunatic.

 Chapter 27 - Regression and Lessons

    Lily glared at Mirian as she entered the room.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t even told you why I¡¯m mad yet,¡± Lily said.

    ¡°Yeah, but sorry anyways. Hug?¡±

    Lily sighed. ¡°Yeah, that would be nice.¡± After they embraced, Lily said, ¡°You¡¯re four for six, by the way. Emanuel only interrupted the professor four times, and you said it¡¯d be five, and I didn¡¯t meet Selesia. But the other stuff was uncanny. Nicola really did knock over an entire stack of metal plates in the middle of the exam, and it took like a full minute for them to stop clanging around. How did you do it?¡±

    ¡°Luck, I guess,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Want to come watch duels?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re trying to dodge the question,¡± Lily said. ¡°Besides, I have to study.¡±

    ¡°On a Fifthday?¡± She frowned at the stack of books on Lily¡¯s desk. ¡°Really?¡±

    Her roommate sighed. ¡°Okay, no, I would rather jump off the top of the Torrian Tower. Yeah, I¡¯ll come. Apparently you¡¯re pretty good. Or something. But you are totally dodging the question.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± Mirian admitted. ¡°There¡¯s not an answer I can give you that¡¯s satisfying. Humor me until dinner, okay?¡±

    Lily looked at her then rubbed her forehead. ¡°I¡­ alright. But only because you¡¯re my friend.¡±

    Mirian was paired with Valen again on the first bout. Go figure, she thought. This time they were three and six, so it wasn¡¯t even a repeat of the first month. This time, though, Mirian was ready for the fast counter-attack, and when Valen tried to press her, she dashed to the side and got a point on her back before she could turn. She smiled at Valen. Take that, she thought. The next point, Valen tried another lightning offensive when she thought Mirian was off-balance, but Mirian had feigned the overextension because she knew that¡¯s what the other girl was looking for. A quick parry-riposte sent Valen back to the starting line scowling. After that, she was more hesitant to go on the attack, and Mirian got two more points by abusing her reach.

    Mirian was pressing Valen hard, looking for the last point, but her footwork kept her away. Then, she came in with a lunge and a disengage. It was, Mirian had to admit in retrospect, a perfect attack. Perfect form, perfect distance¡ªrapid backpedaling didn¡¯t save her¡ªand seriously impressive speed. Anyone blinking would have missed it.

    It was also a lethal point, right over her heart, with the blade glowing fully red.

    Damnit! was all she could think. If anyone else had done it, Mirian would have had to congratulate them. But since when had Valen of all people gotten this good? And of course, the other girl couldn¡¯t stop from smirking when they bowed.

    ¡°Better luck next time,¡± Valen whispered under her breath, and even though Mirian was used to this kind of trash-talk from her, it still infuriated her.

    ¡°Ouch,¡± said Lily. ¡°Bad luck I guess.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the worst part, it wasn¡¯t even luck. I¡¯m never going to tell her that, though.¡±

    ¡°So what¡¯s with you two anyways?¡±

    Mirian found herself slipping back into the same conversation they¡¯d already had. But then she interjected, ¡°You¡¯re taking Alchemistry and Spell Empowerment next quarter. And you have to do a demonstration in front of a panel of professors.¡±

    Lily got silent.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to keep doing this crap until you believe me,¡± she said.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ really unnerving,¡± Lily said. ¡°I was just thinking about it, but then¡­ Mirian, I don¡¯t like this.¡±

    ¡°Neither do I,¡± Mirian said sadly.

    During her next bout she heard a brief yelp from Lily¡¯s direction and knew that Selesia had just introduced herself. She hoped that wouldn¡¯t screw things up. She beat her opponent in an easy 5-1 bout. Really, she shouldn¡¯t have lost a single point, but she¡¯d kept glancing over at her roommate.

    ¡°Well,¡± said Lily, her tone sour. ¡°This is Selesia. But you already knew that.¡±

    Selesia was looking nervous. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ look, I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t know she was your roommate. I really have never met her before. I just transferred to Torrviol and¡­ I¡¯ll just go,¡± she said.

    ¡°Please stay,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Lily¡¯s upset because of something I did, not you.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s okay. Have fun!¡± And Selesia left.

    Mirian watched her go, feeling sad. All she could think was, you really fucked that up, didn¡¯t you?, and about all the things that wouldn¡¯t happen now. They wouldn¡¯t laugh and talk at dinner. Mirian wouldn¡¯t show her the basics of form and bladework. They wouldn¡¯t hold hands. But wasn¡¯t that how it always went? Most of the time, you never got a second chance, you never got to experience those moments again.

    Mirian said, ¡°I should go too.¡±

    ¡°Wait¡­ Mirian?¡± she heard Lily calling, but she was already out the door. The dark shadows beneath the columns of the Stygalta Arena matched her mood as she left the building, and outside, she tried to let the cool night air clear her mind. She just felt bitter, though. She was trying to be kind to Lily and save her life. But she had no idea. She had no fucking idea what it had been like to watch her die. Then to die herself, utterly helpless. And to know it was coming again. No matter what she did, it would be painful. No matter who she saved, she would regret the ones she hadn¡¯t.

    ¡°Mirian!¡± she heard Lily calling. She walked faster, but the other girl ran to catch up and grabbed her arm.

    She spun, suddenly furious. ¡°I¡¯m trying to save your life,¡± she said. ¡°You think I¡¯m just pulling a stupid prank on you, but do you have any idea what it was like to watch you die? I watched Akanan soldiers rip apart your body with force blades, and you died in my arms. I wish it was some hallucination, or bad dream. I wish I could forget watching that airship raining fire down on us the second time, or forget Selesia bleeding out in the snow¡ªGods, if only it were just a nightmare. When I say Akana Praediar attacks the Academy, I mean they bring the five hells to Torrviol.¡± Mirian knelt on the ground then, suddenly weeping. ¡°I wanted to see her again. Selesia. I wanted to see her smile, so I didn¡¯t have to keep thinking about her corpse. Three days ago, Lily. It was three days ago that she died. I¡­ I don¡¯t know how I can even¡­.¡± She couldn¡¯t talk anymore, she was too choked up.

    Lily didn¡¯t say anything, she just gave Mirian a hug. A few students walking by gave them funny looks, but Mirian ignored them. After a while, her body stopped shaking, and her breathing had calmed. She was a mess, but she wasn¡¯t inconsolable.

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know what to say,¡± Lily told her.

    ¡°That¡¯s okay. I don¡¯t think I¡¯d know what to say either. Just¡­ when it¡¯s time to go, promise you¡¯ll go with me. Okay?¡±

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Lily said.

    Mirian sighed and wiped some of her tears away. ¡°Let¡¯s go eat,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s a boiled fish stew and roast baduka boar, and both dishes are seriously good.¡±

    After they ate, Mirian said, ¡°I need to go to the library tonight. One of the Akanan spies is doing something there, and I want to try to find out what.¡± No need to mention the giant mysterious stone door, she thought. ¡°So¡­ don¡¯t wait up for me. And don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll try to be quiet when I get back.¡±

    Lily looked worried, but she accepted it.

    ***

    Mirian stashed the set of glyphkeys in her satchel and went to the library early, before the guard shift changed. She kept her hood on as she asked to enter and told him she¡¯d only be a few minutes. Then she made herself scarce in the second-basement floor. The idea was to make sure that no one remembered she was still in Bainrose, and if she was seen, no one could place her name or many details about her.

    First, she tried to find the door to the third basement floor she¡¯d gone down before, the one with the ridiculously long spiral staircase. There was no point hiding out farther away from it if she could hide closer. Mirian had thought this would be easy. As she explored the level, she realized that even though she knew Bainrose well, she had gaps in her knowledge as large as that big stone door downstairs.

    Another student, a fifth year, found her wandering about, looking carefully at the walls, and asked if she needed help.

    ¡°No, I think I just found it,¡± she said, then wandered up to a nearby shelf and picked a random book to read while she waited for them to go away. Miran then went to where she knew she had been. And there it was: Flexible Spellbook Composition for the Practical Mage. And there was the chair she¡¯d read it on. She then retraced her steps, moving past a few rows of shelves. Then he went down this hall, and the door was¡­. But there was just a wall. Mirian bit her lip. The frustration was building in her. She was sure it had been right there. But it was just another of the stone walls, made of roughly hewn dark granite.

    Mirian went up to the wall. It felt like a wall. Well, she didn¡¯t know what she¡¯d been expecting. How could that be?

    She mentally marked the spot in her mind. There were plenty of dark alcoves to hide in, especially once the glyph lanterns down here dimmed for the night. She had, by her reckoning, at least three hours before the spy came through. Where was the damned door, though?

    Against all odds, Mirian found herself wandering up a level to the history section. Willingly reading a history book, Miran thought to herself. What new lows will you stoop to next? She let her finger drag across the various textures on the shelf, feeling the worn leather, cloth, and vellum. A few volumes even had covers made from wood, with the title engraved into it. Bainrose was an extensive library, and though most of the books now were copies made by scribing spells, there were plenty of originals, preserved by long lasting decay resistance spells.

    At last, she found what she was looking for: A History of the Famous Buildings of Torrviol. The book was dated enough it didn¡¯t have a table of contents or an index, but some barbarian of a person had dog-eared all the pages where a new chapter started. On one hand, that was a crime against books; on the other, it made it significantly easier to flip through until she found the chapter on Bainrose Castle.

    She skimmed through the early parts about explorers stumbling upon a ruined city and a bunch of archaeologists just absolutely losing it with excitement and the other part about how construction had already started and significant work begun before the workers digging the basement and foundations discovered the catacombs. There was something about various passages being walled up and the remains moved. A few pages later, she came across what she was looking for:

    <blockquote>

    In the Siege of Marrian, traitors among the Firian defenders managed to open the main gate and portcullis to the attackers. Surprising the attackers, though, Bainrose did not fall. Instead, defenders retreated both to the upper levels and the catacombs, securing the area above and below each stairwell with spell and blade. Judicious use of levitation spells let the attackers seize control of most of the second floor, but the inner sanctuary and its battlements and the catacombs remained beyond their reach.

    With the main well under his control, General Virmont supposed the defenders would now be short on food and water, and starving them out should take only a matter of days. He was mistaken. In this dark hour, King Rolart Sacristar II revealed the existence of many secret passages within the walls of Bainrose to his captains. The passages, it turned out, were extensive, and connected the inner sanctum to the catacombs, bypassing the areas held by General Virmont and his invaders entirely. The catacombs, in turn, were connected to a wider network of old tunnels that led outside the walls, allowing the defenders to smuggle fish and water from the nearby lake at night. Henceforth, King Rolart was often called ¡®Rolart the Nightfisher¡­¡¯

    </blockquote>

    Here, Miran stopped and rubbed her eyes. Leave it to a history to spend three sentences on the nifty secret passages and the rest of the chapter discussing the importance of the term ¡®Nightfisher¡¯ on court rituals for the next hundred years. Then she squinted, and reread part of it. Wait a second¡ªSacristar? No way, she thought. Nicolus¡¯s ancestor was a king who defended Bainrose? What were the chances?

    The important thing, though, was the ¡®secret passages,¡¯ part. It made her a bit giddy. As a child, she¡¯d loved playing ¡®who can be the quietest¡¯ as they snuck through halls and rooms, pretending they were going a secret way no one else knew. There was, in her estimation, nothing cooler than a secret passage, except for an ancient magical artifact at the end of a secret passage. Obviously, Mirian had wanted to be a Labyrinth explorer for years before her parents made it clear that it was way too dangerous, no way. She still daydreamed about it occasionally. The Labyrinth was full of old treasures. Some of it was old material that was much needed for spell engines. Some of it was the myrvite monsters down there and their valuable spell organs. But occasionally, someone would stumble across an artifact of immense power. Put there by the Elder Gods, the priests said, and only those worthy of their trials could obtain them.

    Mirian rubbed her eyes again. She was exhausted from the day, and her mind was wandering. There were secret passages in Bainrose, hells, all over Torrviol. That would explain what Professor Jei was doing after class. Was it weird for a grown professor to use a secret passage instead of the front door? Probably. Did Mirian¡¯s respect for her double? Also yes.

    Then her brow furrowed. What if Song Jei¡¯s secret project was somewhere in the secret passages? It was a secret project, after all. Well, except for the part where everyone in class seemed to know she was working on it, whatever ¡®it¡¯ was.

    Well, that settled it. She was going to figure out Torrviol¡¯s secrets. The spies were clearly using them. Somehow, the door she couldn¡¯t find was protected by more than just a glyphkey.

    Over the next few hours, she skimmed through a dozen books, but while plenty of them referenced secret passages in Bainrose or Torrviol, none of them gave examples. And as much as she wished for a book like ¡®Map of Secret Passages in Torrviol Academy,¡¯ it seemed no such volume was on the shelves. That brought her back to magic. She would need to figure out how one went about detecting such passages.

    By now, the library was deserted, and the glyph lamps had dimmed. Mirian grabbed a book titled Divination Foundations and Theory and stuffed it in her bag, then headed downstairs to the second basement level. She had been totally out of it by the time the spy had woken her, so she wasn¡¯t sure exactly what time he appeared, but the secret door revealing itself would be a clue. She positioned herself in a shadowy alcove and waited.

    And waited.

    And waited.

    Her mind wandered all over the place, thinking of glyph combinations and neat items she¡¯d like to create. Then she thought about the attack on Torrviol. Then what she might say to Professor Torres again. Then she thought of her family, and made herself sad, then went back to thinking about artifice designs.

    By the time several hours had gone by, she was stiff from not moving and totally exhausted. Eventually, she decided she¡¯d changed the timeline. Was the spy she captured yesterday the one that came down here today? She didn¡¯t think so, but then again, he¡¯d used illusion magic to change his face, so maybe. With a sigh, she went off and picked up a book about illusion magic too. It was time to fill the gaps in her education.

    Sure enough, it was just before the next guard shift when she emerged on the first floor, meaning it was well past when the spy should have opened the secret door. The desk attendant was shocked to see her approach. ¡°Oh my! I didn¡¯t¡­ when did you come in? I thought the library was empty.¡±

    ¡°Ah, sorry. Fell asleep studying,¡± Mirian lied. Well, it had been true the first time.

    The librarian nodded sympathetically. ¡°That does happen, just usually not on a Fifthday. You must really be studying hard for those exams.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Clearly I need to sleep more, though. Hey, can I check these two books out?¡±

    She did, and headed back to the dorm, the night air absolutely frigid. The guard was equally surprised to see her, but didn¡¯t say anything, which to her further confirmed there were no spies in Bainrose tonight. Well, it was good to know for next time she experienced this month. Assuming there was a next time. She didn¡¯t want there to be a next time, but the feeling in her was growing: there probably would be.

 Chapter 28 - More Changes

    It was, Mirian decided, a good thing it was the weekend. She awoke to an empty room, the hour well past breakfast. If Lily had set the alarm candle, she certainly hadn¡¯t heard it. For once, she took her time waking up, then resumed her studies.

    Mirian ravenously consumed the books on combat magic, divination, and illusions that she¡¯d picked up, and when she wasn¡¯t doing that, she alternated between visiting the metal shop and the spellforge. She also signed up to get combat certified. Since plenty of students would be joining combat magic classes for the first time in the next academic quarter, there were dozens of sessions being held before winter quarter started. She chose the earliest one, scheduled for the next Thirdday. She was going to be pushing herself pretty hard to get there, but the only thing she was using her auric mana for, besides practicing the basic combat spells, was artifice. Worst case scenario, if she strained her auric mana too much, she could actually afford an elixir of mana rejuvenation. It would cost a whole gold doubloon¡ªA-class mana was expensive to obtain, and even more so to distill¡ªbut she actually had the money to do that now.

    Creating the three wands she needed for the combat evaluation only took her an afternoon. She did several stability checks on the glyph sequence and found she¡¯d probably gone a bit overboard. The wands were the easiest bit of artifice she¡¯d practiced in four years. That didn¡¯t mean all wands were simple; a complex spell was harder to fit in the standard compact frame, and for certain high-intensity spells she¡¯d have to have mana channels running in parallel, but for spells like minor force blade and shock chain, there just weren¡¯t any major complexities. The material cost rankled her though. Even though she had money now, needing to buy an arcane catalyst for each wand deeply pained her. It was just such an inefficient use of resources.

    She finished the wands an hour sooner than she¡¯d planned, so she spent the extra time scribing her first real illusion spell¡ªgeometric image didn¡¯t count. There were two ways to make an illusion spell. The first was math intense, and involved creating a spell that put points of colored light at predetermined areas. Geometric image did that. So did the illusion projector spell engines that most of the professors used, though the number of equations and light points they used made even her head hurt. Those spells had no mental component, which was why even a machine could create them.

    Most illusion spells did have a mental component. Certain glyphs interfaced with the mind, and the resulting spell projected images, sounds, or touch that the caster could imagine. That made them quite a challenge, though; the arcanist had to hold the result in their mind all while casting the spell. It was also hard to teach because no one¡¯s thoughts worked quite the same. Serious illusionists had to figure out the mental component themselves, though there were of course plenty of advice manuals on techniques that worked for most people. Mirian had worried the common techniques wouldn¡¯t work for her, but after an hour of practice, she found her worries were misplaced. The trick was to practice the spell so that rote memorization became instinct and you didn¡¯t have to think that hard about the spell part, and then you could really focus on the image. And Mirian was, after all, an artist.

    ¡°Hey roomie,¡± she said upon her return to the dorm.

    ¡°Hey Mirian how was your oh my Gods what did you do to your hair?¡± Lily blurted out when she saw her.

    She laughed. ¡°I learned an illusion spell. A real one!¡±

    ¡°Thank the heavens. I mean, it¡¯s your hair, you can do what you want, but that shade of blond looks¡­ weird? Like, it¡¯s not you.¡± Lily examined her more closely, then said, ¡°That¡¯s pretty good though. I knew you¡¯d have a knack for it.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said. She didn¡¯t talk about the reasons for it. The more she talked about time travel, or even alluded to it, the more uncomfortable Lily got. Instead, they chatted amicably about the goings on of class. Really, Mirian mostly listened to Lily. Then she headed out for the Luminate Temple.

    She thought about if she should bother going anymore. She didn¡¯t like the priest. And she¡¯d heard the sermon before. The weekly trips to the temple weren¡¯t about that, though. Did the Gods care if time was repeating for her? It was ultimately to them Mirian was faithful. She wondered how closely they watched the temples. She wondered how closely they examined their own priests. It was through the priests that they acted, wasn¡¯t it? Mirian had always been taught that the celestial energy that the priests and healers used for blessings and to treat the infirm were fundamentally different than the arcane energy they used, that it only came by divine grant. The Academy teachings said the same thing. That was why everyone in Baracuel went to the Luminate Temple; the proof of the Gods¡¯ miracles was in every hospital, in every temple, and in the holy relics the faithful wielded. The head priest in Torrviol may have been a condescending jerk, but the Gods saw something in him.

    The Gods had seen something in her too, she reasoned. Was she their conduit now? What else could explain the miracle that had now twice brought her back from death?

    She listened once again to the priest¡¯s sermon on Ominian, and Their sacrifice. The statues of the Ominian had always struck her as gruesome. No matter the temple, they followed a theme of mutilation. Most had knives jutting out and a chest carved open so the anatomically correct heart was showing beneath the peeled-back ribs. The one in Torrviol was especially grand, and especially detailed. But Ominian¡¯s statues never showed pain, discomfort, or hesitation. Her eyes traced the swirling patterns of the stone They were carved from.

    This time, she left as soon as the sermon was done. She stopped before the figure of Yiaverunan and Her hourglass. In the Kiroscent Dome, the statue held the hourglass upright. Here, She held it at a quarter-turn. Mirian wondered at it. Will you do it again? she thought.

    She returned home.

    ***

    Mirian was not entirely surprised when, once again, the Myrvite Ecology exam was different. It wasn¡¯t just different, though; Professor Viridian walked in with his beard combed, looking well-rested and quite pleased. He actually had with him a little plant.

    The main body of the plant was several long, narrow leaves. In the midst of those leaves was a thin stem that had about a dozen cute, droopy, bell-shaped flowers. They were white at first glance, but shimmered slightly. ¡°Lily of the prophet¡¯s sorrow. Or, in other regions, whitebell. Likes shade. Very poisonous. But pretty to look at, nice to smell, and quite harmless magically. Unlike violet wispsorrow, this plant produces an illusionary smell, which is one of the hardest kinds of illusions to produce. No one has figured out why it does this, but it should make the classroom quite pleasant to be in. Good luck on your exam!¡±

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Well that¡¯s nice, thought Mirian.

    It was the only exam now that had changed three times in a row. Apparently, Viridian actually wrote his final exam over the weekend or something? It wasn¡¯t a problem, though. This exam was about marsh ecology, and Viridian had talked about marsh ecology endlessly. This time, the essay question had to do with people going missing. Local magi were sure it was bog lion attacks, but a careful reading of the clues (plus knowledge of how the ecosystem worked) made it clear that the real culprit was actually baduka boar attacks. Culling the bog lion and fire drake population had led to the boars overpopulating the area. Mirian felt oh-so-clever figuring that out. One thing she could certainly appreciate about Viridian was that his exams were almost fun to take.

    In Arcane Mathematics, Mirian watched Professor Jei introduce the exam, and expected her to depart and the proctors to take over. This time, though, she didn¡¯t run off. She just¡­ stuck around.

    What changed? Mirian wondered. She was sure that Viridian¡¯s change had been because she¡¯d stopped the spy that was wrecking havoc on the Myrvite Ecology building. But what had done it for Jei?

    Shortly after the exam began, the despair set in. The extra dozens of hours Mirian had spent on alchemistry had made even that legendarily difficult exam not so bad. The same amount of practice had done nothing to make the Arcane Mathematics exam any easier. The questions were still utterly baffling, and now that Mirian had checked her notebook and the lectures against the exam, she was absolutely positive that half the questions on the exam hadn¡¯t even been covered.

    ¡°No crying,¡± Professor Jei told the class. ¡°Exam score is scaled. Tears are not necessary.¡±

    It was probably the least consoling speech Mirian had ever heard, which she found funny. Professor Jei really was the only person who made Professor Torres seem warm and emotional by comparison. And yet, despite the tone and words, Mirian felt she could sense that there was a compassion there.

    After the exam, Mirian approached her. ¡°Thank you, Professor Jei. I¡¯ve enjoyed taking your class,¡± she said.

    ¡°Good,¡± she said. ¡°I teach one more class next quarter. No math, too many complaints. You will sign up.¡±

    Mirian was pretty sure that demand meant Jei liked her as a student. ¡°Artifice Design?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said. ¡°How did you know?¡±

    ¡°Professor Torres mentioned it. I was wondering, though¡­ why put the questions we didn¡¯t cover on the exam?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Worth trying. Maybe one of you is, hmm, what¡¯s the word? Mathematical genius. Only one way to find out.¡±

    Mirian grinned. ¡°Hey, I was wondering. These math equations¡ªthey imply spells of teleportation are possible.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Professor Jei acknowledged.

    ¡°What about time travel?¡±

    ¡°Hm. Mathematically, probably no problem. But math is not reality. For this, we have no data. Applied math requires quantifiable experiences. Arcane energy paths, mana flows¡ªall of it can be quantified, studied, recorded, and tested. No tests can be done on time travel.¡± She shrugged again. ¡°So, not worth trying.¡±

    Mirian bit her lip. She considered how much to reveal to Jei. ¡°What if¡­ what if I could test things? What if it was possible to, say, repeat the month of Solem over again? How would I even go about collecting data that could be used to figure out how it works?¡±

    ¡°Strange hypothetical,¡± Professor Jei said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Give me, hm, a week to think about it. Good thinking requires long walks.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, Professor!¡± Mirian said, and waved goodbye. She¡¯d thought about asking her where she went after class, but figured that might be going into the ¡®stupid questions¡¯ territory. And it looked like Professor Jei would be the one teaching her artifice class next quarter. Whatever emergency made her unable to proctor her own exam hadn¡¯t happened, so probably, she was free to teach. Well, that would screw up the predictions she¡¯d given Torres, but it also would be very interesting. Professor Jei, with her background in Zhighuan artifice and mastery of applied math, no doubt had completely different ways of assembling and structuring her magical creations. It was exciting to think about.

    ***

    The last thing she had to do was retake the Enchantments exam she¡¯d skipped, which she did under the watchful eye of a proctor. Then, freed from exams, Mirian went back to work on her spellrod. The design she¡¯d settled on was the same as the one she¡¯d made last time, only better. The enhanced mana channels would allow for more intense spells. For the force blades spell, that would mean more cutting power and a longer potential range. A better arcane catalyst would mean she could pour more of her own mana into the spells faster; without that, the enhanced mana channels would be useless. Finally, the higher quality materials she used for the structure and glyphs would make the whole device more efficient. She could use less mana and still get the same effect.

    Then, Mirian continued to consider future designs. She still knew very little of illusion glyphs, but had quickly realized that the fundamental structure of the device would need to be totally reworked. Almost all glyphs used in illusion magic were flux glyphs, and they¡¯d change the function of the subsequent glyphs in the sequence, sometimes by a little, sometimes by a lot.

    When her head hurt from all the intense focus, she relaxed on the practice range, trying out her new wands and spells. She had to admit she was a little envious. While she was busy giving her target paper cuts and tiny burn marks, other students were sending out gouts of flame or actual lightning bolts. It was only a little embarrassing to be wearing sixth year tassels and have the fourth year next to her dishing out spells that were easily twice as powerful. She was annoyed that Torres was making her jump through this hoop, but it made sense from her perspective. She might not believe Torrviol would be attacked, but she certainly knew she could be reprimanded or fired for approving dangerous student projects.

    On Thirdday, Mirian and Lily headed down to the practice range for the various tests. In both cases, professors had deployed large contraptions with glowing glyphs, metal antennae, and thick lenses that detected and measured magical energies. Students formed lines and waited for their turn on the range. It was all very boring. She passed the combat certification without a problem. It was, after all, the first level of certification, meant for third years who had only just started mastering the basic spells. Down on the other side of the range, Lily passed her spell empowerment test, which Mirian was happy to congratulate her on for the third time.

    ¡°Did you know that was going to happen?¡± Lily asked.

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Ugh! And you didn¡¯t tell me? I was worried I¡¯d fail!¡±

    ¡°But if I told you that, what if you¡¯d relaxed too much, stopped practicing, and then failed because you didn¡¯t practice enough? I didn¡¯t want to risk it.¡±

    ¡°I guess that makes sense. Still¡­.¡±

    ¡°Come on. Registration opens soon.¡±

    When Mirian got there, though, the class list was the same as it had been. Professor Torres was back to teaching Artifice Design 426. Mirian¡¯s brow furrowed. She looked around, as if someone in the crowd of students or in the registrar¡¯s office had some sort of insight. It hadn¡¯t changed.

    ¡°Stay focused please, there¡¯s a long line,¡± the clerk behind the desk said.

    ¡°Sorry. I¡¯d heard Professor Jei was teaching this class,¡± Mirian said, gesturing. ¡°What happened?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°Last minute switch. Happens. Same class, different teacher.¡±

    Not that she¡¯d expected him to know. Mirian signed up for it. Torres would be wanting to talk to her.

    For her other classes, she took Spell Engine Alchemistry from Atger again, since she still needed to figure out what was going on with Nicolus, and Artifice Physics because she liked Professor Endresen. But Geoarcanology? She didn¡¯t need that. She wasn¡¯t sure how big the Akanan attack was, but if escaping Torrviol was enough, she wasn¡¯t going to get a job scouting Persama for magical rock layers. She¡¯d end up in a spellforge somewhere, making weapons. She replaced it with Combat Magic 201, which her new certification let her join. As for Spellbook Enhancements, she was tired of Professor Eld. She swapped that class with Illusion Spells 281.

    It was time to expand her repertoire. At least, for a few days, before she fled Torrviol.

 Chapter 29 - Disappeared

    To Mirian¡¯s surprise, it was Professor Torres who sought her out, that Thirdday evening. Or rather, Torres sent an Academy messenger. Most towns did something like it; spry youngsters looking for a little money let it be known they could be hired for short messages to people. Running about town didn¡¯t need one of the official Couriers. The boy knocked on her door just before dinner, surprising both her and Lily.

    ¡°Message from Professor Torres,¡± he recited. ¡°Please meet me at the same place as last time for dinner tonight. End of message.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said, and gave the boy the customary coral beadcoin tip. When he¡¯d left, she turned to Lily and said, ¡°Sorry, I really need to talk to her.¡±

    ¡°Yeah¡­ I guess it¡¯s probably important. Hope it goes well.¡±

    Torres hadn¡¯t asked her to bring her notebook or anything, but Mirian packed her spellrod pieces, the scroll she¡¯d taken off the spy, the glyphkeys, and her notes, just in case.

    Upon her arrival at the diner, Mirian was once again overwhelmed by the succulent smell of cooking meat and vegetables. The waiter, upon seeing her, gestured for her to follow, and led her to the same table. By now the sky was darkening, dusky light painting the horizon in shades of glowing gray, so the view now was more of silhouettes and distant glyph lamps. The warm light of the porch made it seem more like an island in a sea of dark. This time, though, she noticed the faintly glowing glyphs along one of the posts in the railing, then glanced up and saw another along one of the rafters that held up the porch¡¯s roof. Privacy spells, she realized. They didn¡¯t entirely suppress sound coming from the area, but they did mute it considerably. Apparently she¡¯d missed seeing them the first time. No wonder the noises of the kitchen had seemed distant.

    Professor Torres was looking out at the lake. She turned when Mirian approached.

    ¡°It seems I must take your claims more seriously,¡± she began, demeanor serious as ever.

    Mirian nodded. She wasn¡¯t sure what to say. ¡°Is Professor Jei okay?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I was hoping you could tell me.¡±

    That made Mirian¡¯s heart race. So it wasn¡¯t just that Jei got extra busy or had to clean up after a break-in like Viridian. What had happened? ¡°The students all pass around a rumor, that Professor Jei is working on a secret project. She never has office hours, no one ever saw her outside of class, so it at least made sense that she was busy. I always assumed she just¡­ got busier.¡±

    ¡°Not the case, unfortunately. Do you still have that scroll?¡±

    Good planning, Mirian, she thought to herself. She handed it over.

    ¡°The irony,¡± Torres said, looking it over with a sigh, ¡°is that Song Jei would be the best one to decipher this. It¡¯s probably using a trick of math she knows about.¡± She placed it on the table. ¡°The last anyone saw of Song was two days ago, just after the exam. When she didn¡¯t show up for the¡­ project, there was considerable consternation. Her apartment wards were intact, but she was not there. Her usual locations turned up nothing. The guards claim no reports or sightings either, though they are investigating.¡±

    ¡°Captain Mandez can¡¯t be trusted, and his subordinates are loyal to him. Well, until he runs off.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you said that before. I was skeptical of that too, but there are a number of suspicious things that might explain. For example, why the only person ever caught in the break-ins to the Academy was on the 1st of Solem. By you, wasn¡¯t it? I surreptitiously inquired as to what was learned from the man¡¯s interrogation. Apparently, they have made no progress in learning anything. There has been no explanation for how he was able to acquire a set of Academy glyphkeys, but the guard I talked to also told me that aside from a lockpicking set, it was the only thing in his bag.¡±

    ¡°I bet he had more wands. One of the spies has a minor disguise wand. Also, they¡¯ve been carrying around seeker-stones, the kind with glyphs that make them easy to track. They put them inside a metal mesh in the bag so they¡¯re not detectable, but I bet they¡¯re slipping them into people¡¯s pockets or bags so they can follow them.¡±

    That made Professor Torres¡¯s eyes go wide. ¡°Then that¡¯s how,¡± she muttered. ¡°Do you have one of them?¡±

    Mirian grimaced. ¡°I panicked when I found it in the bag I got off a different spy. I didn¡¯t want them to track me, so I threw it into the gardens north of the Myrvite Ecology building.¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± Torres said. ¡°They¡¯ve probably picked it up by now.¡±

    ¡°I waited after class to see where Professor Jei went, because I was curious. I know she doesn¡¯t use the front door to leave. And I know there¡¯s a network of passages under Torrviol, and connecting to Bainrose. I also know¡­.¡± Mirian hesitated. But if she couldn¡¯t trust Torres, who could she trust? She told Torres about falling asleep in Bainrose on the 2nd of Solem, and told her about the staircase, and the colossal door. ¡°But this cycle, that spy never showed up on the night of the 2nd. The place where the door is just¡­ it¡¯s just a wall. I couldn¡¯t get in.¡±

    Her professor¡¯s face grew grim. ¡°Damn. Damn. Five hells. How long have they known? Damn!¡±

    Mirian had never seen her this emotional. ¡°So you¡¯re part of the project too? I might¡­ I might be able to help. This is all connected to the attack. There¡¯s a reason Akana hits Torrviol. Viridian said it had to do with buried secrets.¡±

    ¡°Selkus said that? Strange. He¡¯s not involved at all.¡± Torres tapped her fingers on the table, clearly agitated. ¡°I¡¯m quite loathe to reveal anything about the project,¡± she finally said. ¡°All of us are sworn to total secrecy. But you¡¯re right, it must explain the activity. Then why is Medius sitting on his ass? Damn that man.¡±

    Mirian was taken aback. She hadn¡¯t expected Torres¡¯s curses to extend to Archmage Medius Luspire. ¡°What can you tell me?¡± she asked. When Torres was still silent, she added, ¡°I don¡¯t know how to stop any of this yet. I still don¡¯t know enough.¡±

    Instead of answering her, her professor said, ¡°May I see your progress on the spellrod?¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    Mirian dug the pieces out of her satchel and laid them on the table next to the scroll. Torres took her time examining each one. ¡°And I got combat certified, for the record. Besides, I already know it works. I killed two frost scarabites with it during the evacuation.¡± Killed maybe was an exaggeration. They had run off, though.

    Torres said, ¡°This is good work. You did research.¡±

    Mirian told her the names of the books she¡¯d been using.

    The professor looked away from the brass rod and the various glyphstones laid out, toward the last light of the fading dusk. By now, the Divir Moon was shining bright, and the first stars were out. ¡°The most logical assumption for your foreknowledge is that you¡¯re also an Akanan spy. No,¡± Torres said, holding up a finger as Mirian opened her mouth to protest, ¡°I know that doesn¡¯t make sense. Akana Praediar also does not use spellrods. No one does in Baracuel, either. It¡¯s considered archaic technology, prone to mistakes and high expense. You must understand, though, time travel is an extraordinary claim, and such claims require an abundance of evidence.¡±

    ¡°Did the presentations go like I said?¡±

    ¡°Almost entirely,¡± she said. ¡°Again, the simple explanation is you bribed or cajoled your peers to act that way in a conspiracy. As ridiculous as that is, especially coming from a loner student like you, it¡¯s still more plausible. And yet¡­ I find myself wondering. The more complex the alternative explanation becomes, the less likely. I will send letters to my contacts in the Baracuel military inquiring about any military buildups on the Rift Sea. Does that satisfy you?¡±

    Mirian breathed relief. ¡°It does. I mean, I¡¯d still like to know more, but it¡¯s the attack that needs to be stopped more than anything. Somehow, I think¡­ it has to be the reason. What can be done about Captain Mandez?¡±

    ¡°The Crown Bureau. Send a letter to Cairnmouth and they¡¯ll investigate.¡±

    ¡°But by the time it reaches them and they send someone out¡­ I tried sending letters to people before, but it didn¡¯t do anything.¡±

    Torres nodded. ¡°The evidence is likely too circumstantial.¡±

    ¡°And I¡¯m still a student. Barely an adult. Why would they trust me?¡±

    ¡°I certainly know how that can go.¡±

    She did, Mirian realized. She¡¯d been a prodigy, but certainly that hadn¡¯t meant everyone took her seriously. ¡°What gets people to listen?¡± she asked.

    ¡°A demonstration of your prowess. Letters of recommendation from people they do respect, which means making contacts. And of course, money always talks.¡±

    Not the answer she wanted. Mirian didn¡¯t have any ¡®contacts,¡¯ unless Lily counted. Given the limited time before the attack, it didn¡¯t seem there was much time to establish them. Prowess though¡­ maybe that was the key. Or knowledge. That had impressed Torres enough, hadn¡¯t it?

    ¡°May I keep the scroll?¡± Torres asked. ¡°I would be happy to present it to Crown agents, or military personnel.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, go ahead. I¡¯m not going to learn Eskanar or how to break ciphers. And this cycle, I didn¡¯t meet the person who speaks Eskanar, so.¡± She shrugged her shoulders. ¡°I hope it helps.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ I¡¯m not sticking around for the attack this time. I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t want to die again. It¡¯s¡­ not pleasant. And none of the stuff that happens around it¡­ well. I don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡±

    ¡°Understandable,¡± Torres said. ¡°Now let¡¯s enjoy a pleasant meal.¡±

    Mirian cleared off her spellrod components, and with a single nod by Torres to the porch door, the waiter departed, bringing food out a moment later. It was served on plates with little heat-glyphs around the edges, so the food was still piping hot. The meat had been cooked to perfection, and the vegetables had been cooked in some combination of spices that made them delectable. The conversation shifted to artifice, and Torres gave her a few pointers both about her current design and the second spellrod she was sketching out. She even offered to give more pointers if Mirian showed up to classes early. Then they were quiet for awhile, just enjoying the night air and moonlit landscape. Dessert was a honey-glazed pastry stuffed with cream and fresh fruit¡ªit must have come out of a greenhouse at this time of year¡ªand Mirian devoured it in record time. Then she said her thanks and departed.

    She could have pressed Torres more on the secret project and secret passages, but she was sure it wouldn¡¯t have gotten her anywhere. At least there was a chance Torrviol might be saved. With Torres¡¯s contacts in the military and the early warning about the airships, there could be a proper defense and evacuation of the town.

    ***

    With four days to herself before the next quarter started, Mirian immersed herself in her various projects. She sold the three wands she¡¯d made to a second year student in the dorms who she overheard complaining about not wanting to become an artificer before he became a battlemage, though at this point she didn¡¯t much need the money. It was technically illegal to do that, since the wands were a weapon, but she¡¯d seen people do it before, and what the hells were the guards going to do anyways? They were too busy covering the tracks of the Akanan spies.

    She scribed several more illusion spells so she could practice those, including minor disguise and minor image. When she wasn¡¯t practicing those, she was at the range shooting the world¡¯s worst lightning bolts at a warded dummy or working on the spellrod. One of the shop stewards was impressed by the work she was doing and showed her a few pointers to keep the gold wire more streamlined and the brass fittings tighter. By Fifthday, the rod was finished, and she celebrated by eviscerating the practice dummy.

    The second spellrod she was envisioning simply wasn¡¯t going to be complete in time. Her knowledge of illusion spells was too inadequate, and she hadn¡¯t designed any item with a mental component before. This led her back to Bainrose because the technique the textbook was teaching her seemed to violate one of the mana transformation equations she¡¯d learned in alchemistry, and it seemed the major image illusion spell she wanted to use would be far more mana hungry than it needed to be. Something about adding a mental component required a lot more mana consumption, but she couldn¡¯t figure out why. Arcane Physics had taught her there should still be conservation of energy¡ªit had to become something. But none of the textbooks explained why. Frustrated, she resolved to ask Professor Endresen when she met her on Firstday when the quarter began.

    She went back to looking for more about the passages under Torrviol. Plenty of books mentioned them. One was an archeology book that mentioned that the old sewer system of the ancient city was largely intact, but flooding, fires, and some thousand years of weathering had buried it. They also mentioned that most of the larger buildings were built on top of ruins, using the stone as foundation. In some cases, the ruins had been incorporated into the building, so some basements were still basically made of the ancient structure. Other archeology books discussed the same thing, but none of them had any maps or details, or information on how to enter it. When she asked the librarian on duty, he said, ¡°Oh, those books were removed quite a few years back. Too many first year students died from getting lost or stuck underground. Why are you interested?¡±

    Mirian made up something about how she¡¯d always been fascinated by architecture.

    The librarian thought about that, then recommended a book on the subject. Mirian said her thanks, then absconded before the man started talking to her about it and realized she was full of it. The architecture book talked about the practical challenges that came from building on top of old structures, and how careful assessment was necessary. It was mostly boring¡ªbut it did drop a very interesting tidbit. The author recommended something called ¡®delving spells,¡¯ which was a category she vaguely remembered Professor Holvatti talking about as used in geology. It seemed she could use them to detect how thick a wall was, what it was made of, pierce illusion spells, and find hidden caverns. Well, if it could find caves, it could find buried hallways, couldn¡¯t it?

    She found a book titled The Construction of Delving Spells in Spellbooks and Simple Artifice and checked it out. It seemed to have all the recipes and spells she would need. If Torres wouldn¡¯t tell her, she¡¯d find the secrets of the Academy herself.

 Chapter 30 - Secret Passage

    The day before the winter quarter started, Mirian finished hastily assembling her first delving device. It took her almost the entirety of Seventhday to do, and she was exhausted by the time it was finished. It was not her best artifice, but the item would function well enough. The device used a spell called cave detection, which sent out sonic and x-ray shifted light pulses. If cast from a spellbook, the caster would get a vague mental sense of if there was a hollow space behind a solid object, and how distant it was. Since that sense was a mental component, it was far too mana-intensive for Mirian¡¯s tastes. The device could be tuned by three glyphs on the side to detect near, medium, and far hollows. Instead of giving a vague sense, the device had a quartz crystal that glowed if it detected that hollow space. The stronger the glow, the more clear it was a real reading and not something else. The book had advised her that the spell was extremely prone to errors. Too much dense material between the device and the space, and it wouldn¡¯t detect a hollow. Plenty of other things could also trigger a false positive. It was better than nothing, though.

    She waited until after dinner, then she took it and the Academy glyphkeys¡ªwhich she still hadn¡¯t actually used¡ªto Griffin Hall.

    On the way there, she practically ran into Valen rounding a corner. Literally; Valen was short enough that she only belatedly saw her.

    ¡°Look who it is,¡± Valen said. ¡°Where are you sneaking off to again?¡±

    Mirian let out a sigh. Of course she would run into Valen. ¡°Sorry, I know sunlight doesn¡¯t quite reach all the way down where you are, but I¡¯m not sneaking anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Valen said. ¡°Totally normal to be taking the back alleys of the Academy in the evening, I guess. Where are you going?¡±

    ¡°Away from this annoying pest that just appeared in front of me. Why do you always bother me? What did I ever do to you?¡±

    Valen seemed confused by this. ¡°Can a girl not catch up with her fellow classmate?¡±

    Mirian was usually in good control of her temper. She had, after all, had a lot of practice controlling it, ever since she was little. However today she was tired from relentlessly working and studying for days on end, having done almost nothing to actually relax. Before she even knew what she was doing, she¡¯d shoved Valen against the alley wall with one hand and was holding her there, fingers pressed against her collarbone. She loomed over her, bringing her face close to the shorter girl¡¯s and said in a low voice, ¡°I am not in the mood for this shit. Leave. Me. Alone. Understood?¡±

    Valen¡¯s eyes had gone wide, and with her palm against her chest, Mirian could feel the other girl¡¯s heart beating fast. In the silence of the evening, she could hear her breath. Valen made to move forward, but Mirian held her fast. Finally, Valen said in a meek voice that didn¡¯t at all sound like her, ¡°Yes. Got it. Yes.¡±

    Mirian let her go, then stormed off down the alley, the anger she felt still radiating off her. She didn¡¯t look back. That was stupid, she mentally berated herself. She could report you to the Academy. Or the guards. There was never any one thing with that girl. It was just a thousand little barbs. And what the hell did she mean by ¡®sneaking off again¡¯ anyways? That implied she¡¯d seen Mirian on another late-night adventure. Was Valen stalking her? Now she did look back, but didn¡¯t see her.

    What was wrong with that girl?

    She was annoyed at herself for letting such a small thing get to her. Maybe that¡¯s what Valen needed, though. Maybe she would finally leave Mirian alone.

    The street that Griffin Hall was on was practically deserted at this hour. A few students here or there walked about, or one of the townsfolk. Mirian sat on the nearby bench examining her notebook until the street really was empty, then pulled out one of the glyphkeys. She didn¡¯t think the simple locks of the lecture halls would be alarmed, but¡­ well, she had no idea. She¡¯d never broken into a building before.

    The first glyph key fit in the lock, but it didn¡¯t do anything. The door was still firmly bolted. She didn¡¯t hear any sirens wailing or magical horns trumpeting, though, so it seemed fine to at least try the keys. The second key didn¡¯t fit. The third key, though, fit and turned in the lock. With a satisfying click!, the door unbolted and opened. Mirian quickly stepped in, and locked the door behind her.

    She waited a moment, listening for any sound. When she heard nothing, she cast a light spell. Now that she looked more carefully at the inside of the lecture hall, she noticed something. While the front of the lecture hall facing the street had windows and the two sides had windows, the back where the lectern stood had nothing. And wasn¡¯t the lecture hall shorter in length than the building itself? She retrieved her delving device and powered it up, letting a thin trickle of mana run through it before she sent a stronger pulse into the main conduit. She started by aiming at the back wall. The crystal glowed faintly, but the book had warned her that would happen. When she pointed it at the wall with windows, it also glowed faintly, the spell perhaps triggering off the space between the two walls of the adjacent building. She tried it three more times along the back wall. The third time, the quartz let off a bright flash. Five hells. It had worked.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    She mentally marked the spot on the wall. Then she pointed the device at the floor.

    When she triggered it, the quartz indicator glowed for a full thirty seconds, and far brighter than it had for the back wall. Damn, she thought. Something was below her. Was that just because of a passage under Griffin Hall, or was all of Torrviol like that?

    The light spell winked out, so Mirian recast it. Annoying. She needed to scribe a longer light spell. Though as she closed her eyes and felt at the auric mana around her soul, she could tell her mana was flowing slower, and the current of her aura far more shallow. All the glyph work and spells she¡¯d needed over the past few days had been draining, and she hadn¡¯t given herself time to properly recover. Using the persistent light spell was out of the question; it would drain too much mana too fast.

    Mirian looked around for¡­ something. A hidden switch. A disguised lever. She tried pulling on an old sconce on the wall that held a torch before glyph-lights became common. She tried pressing various bricks in the wall. She examined the lectern and looked for a hidden button. By her fourth light spell, she was ready to give up. The damned passage was there, but there just was no way to get to it. Then she had an idea. The passage was old. Old enough it was unlikely to be using the new-style glyph switches that were on everything. So it must be mechanical. If it was mechanical, it was probably metal, and if it was metal, it was probably iron or steel.

    She cast her phantom magnet spell. Sure enough, she could feel something in the wall pulling at the magnet when she hovered it close. By tracing where the pull was strongest, she found that there was iron that went all along the back of the wall until it ended abruptly.

    She pushed on the brick, and sure enough, a portion of the wall opened, revealing a hinged door and a shadowy passage beyond. Oh, so it had been a hidden brick-switch, she¡¯d just given up before she pressed enough bricks.

    The hinges of the door were well oiled, and so was the lever on the other side to close it. Briefly, Mirian had a vision of herself closing it and getting trapped, but she dismissed the thought. Professor Jei had apparently used it after class constantly, so it certainly wasn¡¯t going to do that.

    Mirian closed the door behind her. A tight spiral staircase of dark brick descended down a floor, then led her under the building. The tunnel was narrow, but high enough she didn¡¯t have to stoop. The walls were the same dark brick as the spiral staircase, and while they were clearly old and sometimes crumbling, the place wasn¡¯t overly dirty. Likely, Professor Jei had cleaned it with a few spells.

    Immediately, she was faced with a decision. The passage split off in three different directions. She closed her eyes and visualized where she was and what direction she was facing. She went right. Bainrose was that direction.

    That passage led to a staircase made of slate that went down a level and into another tunnel that ran perpendicular to the one she was in. This tunnel was larger and held up by horseshoe arches of a very different style. The color was faded, but it appeared someone had once painted the stones the same red and white colors of the Artificer¡¯s Tower. Here and there was rotted wood. Then there was a shrill squeak! and a shadow zipped by her. Mirian started, then realized: right. Duh. Rats. Of course there were rats in the underground tunnels below a city.

    It looked to Mirian like intricately worked plaster had once lined the sides of the tunnel, but most of it had crumbled away through the years. Mirian now had to once again choose a direction; her little light wasn¡¯t bright enough to illuminate the ends of the tunnel in either direction. She chose right again, still fairly sure that would lead her under Bainrose.

    Instead, the tunnel reached a dead-end. Huge chunks of granite rubble blocked off the tunnel, though someone had set up a shrine to Altrukyst, the guiding God, the God of travel. The statue was a smaller one, the kind generally found in a household shrine. Someone had brought it here, then carved the rubble behind it so it vaguely resembled a door. The lantern the statue was supposed to hold had fallen to the ground and shattered, though she could still see the stylized eye carved into the front of it. Strange place for a shrine, she thought.

    She headed back, passing the staircase she¡¯d come from. She walked by a place where a thin trickle of water dripped down over white lichen and a yellow slime mold. Then the tunnel was blocked off by thick iron bars. The bars were well-rusted, and she thought she might get tetanus just looking at them. When she kicked one, though, she could tell it was sturdy. Her force-blades and tiny magnet weren¡¯t going to do anything to it, and there didn¡¯t appear to be any sort of door that bypassed them.

    Mirian backtracked, this time picking the forward passage. It wound around at slight bends until she was thoroughly disoriented, then ended in another three-way split. She hesitated, and was about to take the right passage when she heard a faint echo. Was it rats? Or voices?

    The passages weren¡¯t safe. The spies might be using them, she thought. Maybe they attacked Professor Jei down here. If she was caught down here, it might be a lot worse than dying. There was no magistrate to make sure her imprisonment followed the guidelines of the crown¡¯s law.

    There was another reason to head back. Her auric mana was nearly depleted, and though she¡¯d thought about buying a mana elixir, she hadn¡¯t actually bought one. She¡¯d have to explore the underground another time. She headed back the way she came. At least now she knew where one of the secret passages started.

    She shut the secret passage, then cast minor disguise so that her hair went from dark to light, eyes went from gray to blue, and facial features slightly shifted. Since it was a new spell for her, it wasn¡¯t great. Close inspection might reveal it as an illusion, but it was dark out now and she didn¡¯t plan on letting anyone closely inspect her. Quietly, she slipped out Griffin Hall and locked the door behind her. Two students walking down the street give her a funny look. It was a bit weird for a student to be leaving a lecture hall this late. She ignored them and slipped down an alley, then let the disguise spell drop.

    As she headed back to the dorms, Mirian saw the first flakes of the snowfall that would be covering the campus tomorrow drifting past the glyph-lamps.

 Chapter 31 - Conversation

    ¡°I know how you can enjoy the snow, without earning demerits for dress-code violations,¡± Mirian told Lily the next morning. ¡°Spell of traction. It puts force-spikes on the bottoms of your boots. Then you don¡¯t have to worry about ice.¡±

    Lily rolled her eyes. ¡°Right, totally drain my mana on my way to class. Great idea. I¡¯d rather it just didn¡¯t snow.¡±

    ¡°Well, come to Arriroba. Does not snow there at all. Barely even rains.¡±

    Lily laughed. ¡°I¡¯d like to visit. It sounds like a cozy little village.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Maybe too cozy. And a bit primitive. Everyone gawked at the first glyph lamp that they installed in the market square. And I don¡¯t think they¡¯ve installed a second one yet. At least it has the standard spellward protecting it from myrvite attacks. One day, maybe it¡¯ll get a rail station. I am not a fan of the long walk from Madinahr to my village.¡±

    They crunched through the blanket of white snow on their way to class, and despite Lily¡¯s concerns, there was no ice to slip on. After the plaza, they parted ways, Lily on her way to Alchemistry, Mirian on her way to Artifice Design.

    True to her word, Professor Torres was there early.

    ¡°Any word from you-know-who?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Torres said simply.

    Then Mirian brought out her completed spellrod, which Torres examined. She used an item of her own design that had various metal prongs and glyphs on it to conduct some sort of test. ¡°Simply channeling mana through a student product with no precautions is suicide,¡± she said. ¡°Not that I don¡¯t believe you¡¯ve done it right. It also gives me more quantitative data on the components. I can look for inefficiencies in the mana channels or problems in the crystal capacitors. Or flaws in the glyphs.¡±

    Mirian watched her use the device curiously. Of course, the testing device had to be magnitudes more complicated than the rod she¡¯d just made. She wondered if Torres had designed it from the ground up. ¡°Your use of parallel mana conduits on the sixth circuit is wasting mana. It becomes bottlenecked by the capacitor and the subsequent smaller channels after it runs through the uliman glyph. Glyph inefficiencies are minor, but present. The crystal capacitor supporting your force shield spell appears to have a flaw degrading performance. Otherwise, this is good work.¡±

    Only three problems? Now that was high praise.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see your next plan.¡±

    They went over it together, and this time, Torres had a lot more to say. She wasn¡¯t an expert on illusions, which meant she knew about twenty-times more than Mirian did. By then, several students had begun to trickle in, so Mirian took her seat and Torres prepared for her lecture. Mirian busied herself in the back on new sketches and designs. She¡¯d also written down the titles of three more textbooks that her professor had said might be useful, though Gods knew when she¡¯d find the time to read even more books. The stack of books on her desk in the dorm was already monstrous and threatening to tip over.

    Torres gave a modified version of her presentation. What Mirian had told her seemed to have changed it considerably, though the basic framework was the same.

    She walked in early to Castner Hall, where Illusion Spells 281 was being held. Apparently, the hall had once been a lavish manor of a rich noble before the Academy took it over. It had been completely remodeled on the inside so that the rooms were proper classrooms, but the entrance hall still had some of the original luxury. Elaborate crystal and silver chandeliers hung from the ceiling, while the sides were decorated with glass banisters. Along the hall was a series of modern stained-glass portraits framed by mirrored glass. It was, like most of the buildings of the Academy, strange in its own special way.

    The classroom, thank the Gods, was significantly more subdued. Professor Marva was not.

    Most of the professors wore their university coat with trousers or a dress in somewhat matching colors. Professor Marva wore her jacket unbuttoned, revealing the high collared shirt beneath. It was striped with clashing oranges, blues, and yellows, with white frills running down the center. Her pants were equally garish, dyed red, yellow and white. She wore a beret decorated with at least five different kinds of feathers. It seemed like clothes that would better fit a court jester, but she seemed quite at home in them. She was also one of the few people Mirian had seen in Torrviol with red hair and green eyes. In fact, Mirian strongly suspected the illusionist teacher was using¡­ illusions. She didn¡¯t say anything though.

    Mirian was a little embarrassed to be in a 200-level class; most of the students were third or fourth years. She had to start somewhere, though. A few gave her strange looks, but she ignored them.

    ¡°Welcome,¡± Professor Marva said to the class once they were settled. She had a rich, deep voice that was pleasant to hear. She proceeded to tell the class what Mirian already knew: that if you were in this class, you better have spellcasting basics down, and you better know how to perform spells with a mental component. Then she went on with a very poetic introduction about how illusions were the key to seeing the world as it really was. Mirian was disappointed that the first class was lecture-only, and they wouldn¡¯t actually practice illusion spells until the next day. Still, it seemed Marva was a proficient illusionist, and certainly knew the subject.

    In Spell Engine Alchemistry, Mirian made sure to repeat her conversation with Nicolus. This time, she noticed Calisto eying her suspiciously as she did. Again she wondered what the history was between the two. Not enough to actually ask about it, though.

    Combat Magic was run by Professor Runer, the only professor on staff who was Akanan. He¡¯d been with the Academy forever, though, and though he probably wasn¡¯t as old as Viridian, he had to be close. She¡¯d seen him marching with the professors during the exodus last cycle, so she was sure he wasn¡¯t in with the spies. Again, the class was full of younger students, but that was just going to be how it was. As with Marva, the class was mostly lecture and introductions. Then she was off to her next class.

    At the end of Artifice Physics, Mirian approached Professor Endresen with the conundrum she¡¯d discovered. ¡°Professor, why do illusion spells with a mental component require more mana?¡±

    Endresen¡¯s blue eyes lit up and she smiled. ¡°What a wonderful question! Right up there with the Divir Gravity Anomaly as one of my favorite problems. Do you want the textbook answer, or the real answer?¡±

    ¡°Well, both,¡± Mirian said.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    ¡°The Mental Component Equation Imbalance Problem is now traditionally solved by adding a multiplier to the spell cost. The multiplier varies per person, and seems to be anywhere from 1.2 to 3.3, leading to a variable mana inefficiency. This has been measured repeatedly, and could be considered a finished problem. But that¡¯s not very satisfying, is it? After all, the outputted spell measures the same as the unmodified cost, which is to say, as you¡¯ve discovered, that mental component spells uniquely seem to be demanding a higher energy input. But the output stays constant. The textbook will tell you this is simply the nature of mental component spells, and the energy is ¡®used up¡¯ in communicating to the brain of the caster. The multiplier seems to correlate somewhat with experience in casting the spells¡ªit is, as they say, a ¡®skill issue.¡¯ But obviously that¡¯s not very satisfying either, is it? The general consensus among physicists now is that matter and energy are neither spontaneously created nor destroyed, merely transformed. And yet, what does that mystery mana become? Not heat or electric energy, or the brain of the caster would be fried. And it becomes nothing else our devices can detect, it seems. So the real answer is quite exciting: we don¡¯t know yet.¡±

    She ended this speech with a big beaming smile, like she had just given Mirian a big birthday cake.

    ¡°No one knows?¡± she said.

    ¡°I did say that would happen in this class. It happens quite a lot, as it turns out. If you just read textbooks, you tend to think that the world is solved, and now the task at hand is to pass a test proving you know it. That¡¯s not just true in physics, either. The world is full of unsolved mysteries, and only the truly inquisitive will even realize there¡¯s a mystery to be solved. Isn¡¯t that exciting?¡±

    Mirian did not find it nearly as exciting as Professor Endresen, but she thanked her. It was interesting, she had to admit, but just like Professor Jei¡¯s own magical research, Mirian had more important things to figure out.

    Last cycle, she had started reading newspapers to figure out what was going on in the wider world. The Akanan attack surely had to do with something, and ¡®there¡¯s a secret buried in Torrviol¡¯ was not going to satisfy their Prime Minister, Senate, or general population as casus belli. She tried reading different newspapers this time, each delivered by train from the larger cities south of them. Again, there seemed to be little news of wider affairs. Again, she read about a Persaman revolt being suppressed some days ago, with Akana Praediar and Baracuel working together. It reaffirmed her suspicion that she needed to get Nicolus to tell her what he knew.

    ***

    The next day, Mirian again met with Torres before class to go over her designs. When she went to illusions class, though, she was in for a shock. When she entered class, she saw a man standing behind the podium, formally dressed in the Academy colors, beard neatly trimmed and hair combed. She did a double take, then stepped outside the classroom to make sure she¡¯d walked into the right room. When she saw several students already in the class muffling their laughter, she realized: ah. Right. Illusions.

    Most students that walked in had the same reaction as she had, though a few seemed to have been alerted to the professor¡¯s antics.

    Professor Marva was committed. She¡ªor he, today¡ªstarted the lecture with another little speech. ¡°Welcome,¡± he said in a deep baritone. ¡°I am still Professor Marva, and this is still Illusions 281. The poor illusionist relies entirely on spellcraft. If the goal is to change how you are perceived, there are more ways than magic to do that. Certain divination spells and artifice devices can detect the energy signals of an illusion spell. Illusion spells take mana to maintain. If the same effect can be achieved by mundane means, it should be.¡±

    Mirian expected him¡ªor her, or they¡ªto end whatever illusion they were using, proving their point, but Professor Marva did no such thing. Instead, it was straight into the lesson. They partnered off and practiced minor illusionary object spells, giving each other feedback on how effective the illusion was, paying attention to little things like if it was missing a shadow or not, and then later trying to disrupt the image with a minor spell while the other partner tried to maintain it. It was engaging enough.

    The rest of classes went about the same as they always did, with Combat Magic this time meeting at the range for its own practical session. Then it was time to make real progress.

    Nicolus, Nurea and Xipuatl were in the study room. Thankfully, Nicolus had managed to ditch Calisto. Or maybe Nurea had stepped in. ¡°Mirian! This is the guy I was telling you about. Xipuatl.¡±

    ¡°Close,¡± Xipuatl said, and Mirian impatiently waited for the conversation to play out as it had before making her own introduction.

    The Sacristar heir was still providing dinner during the sessions, so after a few hours they set the books aside and took a break. At Nurea¡¯s insistence, they cleared the books off the table entirely so they wouldn¡¯t get honey glaze or biscuit crumbs on the books, which Nicolus rolled his eyes at.

    As they ate, Mirian made her move. ¡°So what do you think of the long term prospects for Baracuel and Akana Praediar?¡± she asked. ¡°We¡¯re allies now, but could that change?¡± As she said this, she looked at Nicolus, but glanced over at Sire Nurea as well. Both still seemed relaxed.

    ¡°Oh sure,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°In, like, a hundred years. Right now, they both need each other. We need Akana Praediar¡¯s factories and spellforges. They need our help in securing the fossilized myrvite that runs it, and the infrastructure. With the spellwards and rail, there¡¯s finally a way for goods to be shipped safely across Enteria. If the Akanans piss off Baracuel, they¡¯ll find they have to go by sea lane. I¡¯m sure you remember Viridian talking about how fossilized myrvite attracts leviathans. They could ship it all by boat, but I hope they like warding off sea serpent attacks.¡±

    ¡°What if they had a technological advantage? Something that changed war? Like, what if they thought they could conquer Baracuel?¡±

    ¡°Technology is always changing war. No one¡¯s ever as prepared as they should be for the next one,¡± Xipuatl said. ¡°Akana Praediar would have a key advantage in a war, though: their productive capacity.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but they need the fuel to run it. They¡¯d be cut off immediately when war broke out. If Baracuel started taking unsustainable losses, they¡¯d pull up the railroad tracks and smash the spellwards in areas they were going to lose. Then the Akanans would have a logistical nightmare. It wouldn¡¯t even just be needing to either repair the tracks or ship everything by wagon¡ªboth those things require the very fuel they¡¯d be running low on. Meanwhile, they start getting harassed by the local wildlife. We all dismiss myrvites as harmless these days¡ª¡± Mirian didn¡¯t. She¡¯d had to fight those damned frost scarabites. ¡°¡ªbut without the spellwards, they¡¯d start raiding whatever they could. And all that yummy magic would be hanging out in giant stockpiles in the military camps. It would be a lure for every hungry myrvite within miles. Some of the nastier ones might even start coming up out of the Labyrinth. Plus, I bet the factions in Persama might suddenly find mysterious benefactors handing out weapons, and then Akana has to deal with an escalation of the guerrilla war. Nevermind what would happen to Zhighua.¡± Nicolus leaned back in his chair, picking at a piece of chicken stuck between his teeth with his fingernails, which made Nurea wince. ¡°What would happen in Zhighua? Nothing Akana Praediar would like, I¡¯ll bet.¡±

    Unlike their arguments about magic, Xipuatl just nodded along. ¡°That all sounds about right. What makes you ask?¡±

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°Something I overheard. Someone was saying they caught an Akanan spy in Torrviol.¡±

    Nicolus rolled his eyes. ¡°That sounds like a rumor. I¡¯m pretty sure that dude they caught breaking into the studies building was just a criminal. Syndicate, maybe. Probably not though. But even then¡ªnations spy on each other. They¡¯ll all deny it, but they all do it. The newspapers and the politicians like to crow about it every time someone gets caught doing it, but allies have been spying on each other since the days of Viaterria.¡±

    Xipuatl pushed aside his plate, which Nurea took and placed back on the wheeled cart. Silently, she handed out damp towels to each of them. ¡°We should get back to work,¡± the boy said.

    Mirian couldn¡¯t think of a way to ask anything like ¡®well what if there was a secret door in Torrviol the Akanans want so they sent these giant airships that no one knew about and attacked anyways?¡¯ without sounding like an absolute buffoon, so it was back to studying.

    From what she could tell, neither Nicolus or Nurea had any idea the attack was coming right now. They had to know something, though. Or, they were going to figure something out, long before anyone else did. Mirian just had to keep pushing to figure out what.

 Chapter 32 - Departure

    The next time they met, the conversation went about the same as the first. Mirian tried asking about new innovations in airships, and both Xipuatl and Nicolus scoffed at the idea of really big ones. ¡°The bigger it is, the more fossilized myrvite you need, and that stuff burns really inefficiently, so you need a lot. But the more you add, the heavier it gets, so the more you need.¡±

    Mirian was embarrassed not to have thought of that. It was a pretty simple mathematical concept, and they¡¯d covered the idea in some of the lower level Arcane Physics classes when they talked about why it took so long to invent flying aircraft even after levitation spells were well known. The airship had to be held up by some sort of levitation spell, but Mirian wondered¡ªwhat was it using? She¡¯d assumed fossilized myrvite because every spell engine these days ran off it, but what if it was something else? A bunch of magi all casting enhanced levitation spells together while chugging mana elixirs? No, that sounded stupid. Great, she thought. Another mystery. It seemed like whatever she figured out just led to more questions.

    Classes were going well, and the practical experience in combat magic and illusions was helpful. Professor Marva had come to class each day as a totally different person, alternating gender and style each day. Mirian had to admire their confidence and flair. Most people fell into routines and one sense of style. Marva tried on whatever style fit their mood that day.

    Over the weekend, she ended up returning to the passage beneath Griffin Hall. This time, her auric mana wasn¡¯t so depleted, and she¡¯d bought a mana elixir just in case. She also had her spellrod in hand, in case she stumbled on one of the Akanan spies, or something worse. She¡¯d heard rumors the ruins beneath Torrviol eventually reached down into the Labyrinth. If that was true, some seriously nasty myrvites could be stalking the passages down here. She still remembered Professor Viridian¡¯s lecture on Labyrinth creatures from a few years back. It was where chimeras formed, for one. But it was also where things like the slithering swarm roamed. Viridian had described that as a black mass that slithered like a python, only the strange body had hundreds of little arms that could emerge from its flesh. It also had natural telekinesis to hold prey in place, and consumed its victims whole. Okay, there probably wasn¡¯t going to be a slithering swarm just under the Academy, but Mirian figured it was good to be cautious.

    As she walked, she drew herself a map in her notebook as best she could. The problem was, passages kept splitting off, going up, going down, curving slightly, and twisting back around so that a passage she thought was two separate directions was really just a loop. After a bit, she stopped trying to make a map, and just made little diagrams that represented each crossroads: lines indicating each hall, a dot indicating where she¡¯d come from, and a triangle indicating which route she¡¯d taken.

    Twice, high-strung rats had zipped out of some hidey-hole and scared the five hells out of her. Another time, she¡¯d again thought she heard voices down some passage. The architecture down in the tunnels was mixed up, just like the Academy, with the stonework changing every few hundred feet. Once, she walked through what looked like the layout of an old stone house, with piles of rust dotting the corners. In another spot she heard water dripping, and stumbled upon a vast cistern. Only, there didn¡¯t seem to be any pipes connecting it to anything. That made Mirian nervous. What happened to this place when the rains really got going?

    Along the wall of the cistern, she saw nightshelf glowing. The tiny mushrooms looked liked they were painted with a piece of the night sky. It was nice to see another source of light that didn¡¯t come from her.

    What was clear was that down here, there wasn¡¯t an easy way to get to Bainrose. In fact, there didn¡¯t seem to be an easy way to get to anywhere. Professor Jei had to have been nuts for going this way. There was no way it was a shortcut of any kind. Did she just find long walks in creepy tunnels relaxing?

    Though, Mirian had to admit, there was a mysterious beauty to the place. The old stone arches, the remnant vaulting in the ceiling, the traces of old pots and tools¡ªit gave the place a sense of history, a sense of wonder. There was a story written in the stones and the things that had been left behind.

    Mirian lost all sense of time wandering about, though based on the number of light spells she cast, she figured she¡¯d been down there several hours. Just as she was about to head back the way she¡¯d come, Mirian stumbled on a door.

    It wasn¡¯t like some of the other doors she¡¯d found. One had been a decaying wood door that opened up into a pile of rubble. Another had been more rust than door. This one seemed newer than even some of the doors in the streets above. It was a solid oak door, reinforced with steel and decorated with runes. The stone wall around it looked like it had been repaired. The keyhole was a small, brass opening. There were no glyphs that she could see, but when she held her hand near it, she felt that strange, indescribable sensation that meant arcane energy was present. No doubt, there were glyphs inside the lock, and glyphs of reinforcement strengthening the door.

    On a whim, she tried the different glyphkeys that she¡¯d acquired from the spy. None of them fit. Of course, Mirian thought. That would be too easy.

    She considered the door and how she might open it. Just as she was relaxing into thought, her light spell ended, plunging her into darkness. She muttered curses and got her spellrod out again¡ªthen stopped. There was a faint orange glow inside the lock. More, the cracks where the stone was fitted together glowed also, a faint blue emanation she could only just make out. But what did that mean?

    She simply didn¡¯t have the tools or the spells to begin to open it. Mirian recast her light spell and headed back for the surface.

    ***

    Firstday morning, Mirian met with Torres again before class. She didn¡¯t want to talk artifice. The attack was approaching. ¡°Any news from your contacts?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Torres said. ¡°They see no indication of an impending attack.¡± She paused. ¡°Part of the problem is that Akana Praediar is organizing an expeditionary force at Baracuel¡¯s request. There is an expected army and navy buildup, because they want one. It¡¯s going to sail to Persama to aide them. If one were to launch a surprise attack, one might only need to order that fleet to a different landing place. But there is no evidence they might do that, and more, there is no reason. If you¡¯ve had visions¡­?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t figure out the why either. Unless it¡¯s something to do with your project. That¡¯s the only thing that makes sense.¡±

    Torres considered this. When she spoke, it was clear she was choosing her words carefully. ¡°I don¡¯t see why Akana would consider the project a threat to them in any way. I could understand why the Syndicates would think it was a problem.¡±

    There was that term again. How was it that everyone seemed to know about the crime syndicates except her?

    The professor tapped her chin thoughtfully. ¡°Perhaps there are implications I don¡¯t understand yet.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t figure out any of it. But it does happen. Have¡­ have someone with a telescope at the top of Torrian Tower. The telescope should look northwest.¡±

    ¡°You said this attack comes on the 28th?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. But it¡¯s an¡­ what did that guy call it¡­ an army group. So it¡¯s big. And they have giant airships too. So you should be able to see it well before it arrives. Oh, and one more thing, because I¡¯m not sticking around. Someone kills Platus on the 23rd. There¡¯s an explosion in the alchemistry building. He¡¯s in room, uh, 312, it has a window facing the road. It happened at about 5:54 in the morning.¡±

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°I see,¡± Torres said. That was all she said, though, because Mirian¡¯s classmates had started to arrive. She took her seat in the back and studied illusion glyph sequences out of her notebook.

    Mirian continued her classes and continued her studies. In the evening, she checked the newspapers, looking for any sort of development. A few more articles were talking about the fighting in Persama, though that was dying down. It got her thinking, though. Baracuel¡¯s military wasn¡¯t worried about a hypothetical invasion because they were dealing with an actual low level war. The amount of evidence they¡¯d need to see would be overwhelming, wouldn¡¯t it? They were hard pressed enough that they wanted Akanan help. What sort of evidence would they find sufficient to withdraw an entire army from a war with Persama to defend against the world¡¯s least likely attack?

    The 20th of Solem was the last day Mirian ever saw Nicolus in the previous cycles. Once again, he and Sire Nurea showed up to the study session like everything was normal. Both were completely relaxed; for Nicolus, this meant lounging back in his chair and making jokes. For Nurea, this meant standing statue-straight, but not actively tensing as if she were going to pounce.

    Mirian struggled for what exactly to say to rehash the same thing they¡¯d been talking about. Her mind went back to the giant airships, inexplicably above them when physics said they shouldn¡¯t be. ¡°What sort of technological research is being done into new energy sources?¡± Mirian asked. ¡°It seems it¡¯s such a limit for what kinds of spell engines are possible. I mean, think about if airships could move things like trains could.¡±

    ¡°Lots of stuff,¡± Nicolus said at the same time that Xipuatl said, ¡°Nothing meaningful.¡±

    They talked over each other for a bit, then Nicolus got the upper hand and said, ¡°The key innovation is going to come from dissecting some artifact someone finds in the Labyrinth. Don¡¯t tell Calisto I said that, by the way, she¡¯ll think that means her family is important again, but that¡¯s not how innovation tracks. Someone is gonna find it, someone else is gonna make money. Or, throw enough wizards at the problem and one of them will come up with something. Best left to the Academies to do that, and then let someone with money develop the items that use it.¡±

    Xipuatl shook his head the whole time Nicolus was talking. ¡°Absolutely wrong on every level. No one in Baracuel or Akana Praediar is going to innovate from the current framework because the framework is wrong. They think the conceptual development of the arcane force is complete, so they can¡¯t even begin to look for what they¡¯re missing. It¡¯ll be Tlaxhuaco nagual who figure out the next step. If you don¡¯t believe me, send a wizard to the Sacred Ceiba tree in Uxalak. See if they can even begin to understand what¡¯s going on with ambient mana myrosynthesis in that area.¡±

    Nicolus rolled his eyes. ¡°Give Professor Viridian a suite of shiny new divination tools and a few hours and he¡¯ll figure it out. He¡¯d take longer to figure out how to operate the projector spell engines all the other professors use.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s invited,¡± Xipuatl said.

    ¡°Well hurry up and tell him,¡± Nicolus said.

    ¡°So Akana Praediar isn¡¯t just¡­ on the verge of some breakthrough. It¡¯s like years away, not days?¡±

    Out of the corner of her eye, Mirian finally saw Sire Nurea stir to attentiveness.

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°But you have to understand how the corporations in Akana Praediar work. They¡¯re always saying they¡¯re on the verge of a breakthrough, because that gets investors storming the gates waving sigil notes to throw at the company execs. Give it another decade, and we¡¯ll see who the winners are. Until then, better to talk to the wizards that work there. They¡¯ll give you a much more subdued story. At least, that¡¯s what Uncle Alexus says.¡±

    Huh, Mirian thought. She was finally connecting the dots. The Sacristar family was looking to invest in Akanan companies. They certainly didn¡¯t want a war either, then. She wasn¡¯t at all sure how the certificates of ownership or business deals worked, but she thought the first thing she¡¯d do if there was mutual war between the countries would be to shred all the contracts of the enemy financiers. Well, maybe it was the fourth thing she¡¯d do. But maybe his uncle had figured something out? If so, the message had to already be in the air, being transported by sending or zephyr falcon. Otherwise, how would they find out tomorrow? And now, she was pretty sure they did find out something big tomorrow, because neither of them looked like they were about to bolt. She was pretty sure Nurea had tensed up because she didn¡¯t want Nicolus spilling sensitive family finance information. That is, if Mirian was beginning to understand how this all worked, which she was not at all confident in.

    They finished their studies, with Mirian presenting on the book she¡¯d read and the two boys both nodding along and taking notes.

    As Nicolus and Nurea left, Mirian said, ¡°Xipuatl, can we talk?¡±

    ¡°Uh, what about?¡±

    ¡°Just¡­¡± she sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to say this, but I¡¯ve had a prophecy. Or something. No one believes me, and I can¡¯t prove it, but Akana Praediar attacks Torrviol on the 28th of Solem. That¡¯s why I kept asking weird questions. Somehow, Nicolus finds out early and leaves Torrviol. This time, I am too. The last two times this happened, you were a friend to me, so I¡­ wanted to let you know.¡±

    Xipuatl stood there, blinking. ¡°Uhh¡­ I have no idea what to say to that.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I get it. Talk to Professor Torres if you want, I¡¯ve told her too. But if I don¡¯t see you around, good luck, you know?¡±

    She left, leaving him standing there in total bafflement. Mirian really did sympathize. She would have no idea what to say if someone had done the same thing to her back when this had happened the first time.

    ***

    ¡°This is it, Lily. You have to come with me. Please.¡± Mirian had been feeding Lily little predictions here and there as she remembered them. She¡¯d predicted the snow and Platus¡¯s attempt to cast a quickened spell in Advanced Spell Empowerment and several other little incidents. Most had come true.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ Mirian, I can¡¯t! My parents would¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kill you, yes, I know. But they can only kill you if you¡¯re not dead. Please.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going? You really¡­ like, I believe you, because, uh¡­¡±

    ¡°You believe me because you¡¯re my friend, but you don¡¯t really believe me,¡± Mirian said.

    Lily grimaced, but she didn¡¯t deny it.

    ¡°You mentioned that last time, too.¡± Mirian felt dejected. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I can say to change people¡¯s minds. If Platus dies in two days, or there¡¯s a rumor that he was just barely saved, probably by Professor Torres, take the first train out. Promise me.¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± Lily said. ¡°I really will, it¡¯s just¡­ I can¡¯t abandon my education here. My family can¡¯t afford¡­ I mean, you get it.¡± She paused, then said, ¡°Did you really have to take the midnight train to Cairnmouth?¡±

    ¡°It could be going anywhere and I¡¯d take it,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Calisto is following Nicolus around like a duck most of the time, so if he took another train out, I think she¡¯d have known. So I think it¡¯s this one. We¡¯ll see if I¡¯m right about that. The invasion though¡­ that one is happening.¡±

    Lily looked worried, but she wasn¡¯t moving to pack. ¡°I¡¯ll go if it happens, I really will.¡±

    Mirian gave her a big hug. ¡°I hope I¡¯m wrong,¡± she said. ¡°I hope I see you around.¡±

    She took her bag and left. The evening was cold, and light cloud cover obscured most of the stars. She kept looking back through the lamp-lit trees back at the dormitories, hoping Lily would change her mind, but she didn¡¯t.

    Mirian had taken out a loan in silver before she¡¯d left and packed what she could. At the very least, she could support her family through the coming war. Would she survive it? And if she didn¡¯t, would she find herself back here at the beginning again? She couldn¡¯t shake the ominous feeling riding in her chest.

    She put the hood of her cloak up and headed for the train station. The platform was mostly empty. Mostly, the midnight train ran cargo; they always detached a few of the passenger cars and added a few cargo cars at this hour. The goods were being loaded now by tired looking workers while the train sat idle. They weren¡¯t letting passengers on yet, so Mirian bought her ticket from the conductor and waited on the platform. It was foggy, so even with the glyph lamps, the night seemed darker than normal. A few people were standing around waiting as well, most hunched over to pull their cloaks tighter to ward away the chill of the night.

    A guard stood by the edge of the platform, bored but alert. Roland, she realized, the one she¡¯d met last cycle. Not a traitor, but right now he was loyal to one. There was no point saying anything; nothing she could say would change his mind right now. And that was the problem, wasn¡¯t it? Small changes each cycle meant her predictions were flawed. There was enough doubt that even Lily wouldn¡¯t fully believe her. She hoped Torres would listen. Even giving the people of Torrviol an extra day to flee would save a lot of lives.

    Two figures approached, and Mirian recognized them instantly. They¡¯d used some sort of minor disguise spell to darken their hair and subtly alter their facial features, but Mirian had been paying attention in illusions class. There were things illusions couldn¡¯t change, like stance and gait. She knew Nicolus because of that lazy, confident stride, and she knew Nurea because she always stayed one pace behind him and she was upright and alert as a watchtower.

    She took a step toward them so she was better illuminated by one of the glyph lamps and lowered her hood.

    Nurea¡¯s eyes grew wide. With a lightning-fast movement, she reached beneath her cloak and pulled out a pistol and leveled it at Mirian.

 Chapter 33 - Omen

    Mirian took a step back and raised her hands in the air.

    ¡°Who are you really?¡± Sire Nurea said, voice low and dangerous.

    ¡°Still just Mirian. I¡¯m not going to stop you, I¡¯m just taking the train too.¡± She kept her hands up and voice steady, despite the gun still pointed at her.

    The guard had tensed up too. His hand had gone to one of the wands at his belt. It was still sheathed, but he was looking right at Nurea. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± he started, then seeing the ornate gold clasp on Nurea¡¯s cloak, he said, ¡°Sire. Is there a problem?¡±

    ¡°We can talk on the train. I¡¯ll explain everything,¡± Mirian said.

    She could tell Sire Nurea still didn¡¯t like that, but she holstered the gun, though she was still tensed. ¡°No problem. Just jumpy today. There¡¯s been a threat on my ward¡¯s life.¡±

    The guard, Roland, still had his hand on his wand. ¡°Do you believe the girl is involved?¡±

    Nurea hesitated. Finally she said, ¡°No,¡± and relaxed slightly.

    Nicolus, who had apparently been holding his breath, exhaled. ¡°Gods, Nur,¡± he said quietly. Apparently his knight-protector had scared him too.

    ¡°We¡¯re good?¡± Roland asked.

    ¡°Yeah. Sorry for the scare,¡± Nurea said.

    Finally, the guard relaxed. The three of them then stood around awkwardly, getting some stares from the other folks on the platform. Mirian hated standing out in a crowd, but she endured it until the conductor at last opened up the passenger cars.

    Mirian sat across from Nurea and Nicolus. Probably because of the gun that was pulled earlier, the few other passengers gave them plenty of space, with most of them ending up in the other train cars. As soon as they were seated, the knight immediately asked her, ¡°What do you know? Who are you working for?¡±

    ¡°Nothing and no one,¡± Mirian said. ¡°You won¡¯t believe me if I tell you how I know.¡±

    ¡°Try me.¡±

    ¡°Time travel.¡±

    Nurea glared at her. ¡°You¡¯re right, I don¡¯t believe you.¡±

    ¡°I want to know how you know. There¡¯s nothing in the newspapers. Professor Torres talked to her contacts in the military and none of them see any sort of suspicious buildup or anything. How do you find out?¡±

    Nicolus sounded confused. ¡°Military buildup? What are you talking about?¡±

    Nurea sat back in her seat. ¡°What do you think we know?¡±

    Mirian looked between the two of them. What was she missing? ¡°Akana Praediar¡¯s surprise attack on Torrviol in seven days. Well, six days now, I guess.¡±

    ¡°The what!?¡± Nicolus practically shouted. One more passenger moved cars to get away from them. ¡°Sorry, the what?¡±

    ¡°You know more than we do, it seems.¡±

    Mirian threw up her hands, though she kept her voice low enough to not carry. ¡°Well, please, tell me what you do know. It seems a bit unfair that I¡¯ve told you my two secrets and you¡¯re withholding yours.¡±

    Nicolus looked at Nurea, and Nurea back at him. Some sort of meaningful information must have been exchanged between the two of them, because Nicolus finally said, ¡°Oh come on. Throw her a bone.¡±

    ¡°Fine. All we know is that we received warning that something big was coming, and to meet the family at Palendurio.¡±

    ¡°From your uncle?¡±

    Nicolus didn¡¯t say anything. Nurea said, ¡°I did warn you.¡±

    ¡°You said he was in Akana Praediar.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not even a secret,¡± Nicolus said, exasperated.

    ¡°And yet,¡± Nurea said.

    Frustrated, Mirian said, ¡°Can we stop having two different conversations, one of which I¡¯m not a part of? I know you all have your elite noble political things to do, but I¡¯m just trying to save lives. Someone needs to get Torrviol evacuated, or barring that, get the Baracuel military to show up early so they can set up a proper defense. Otherwise, a lot of people die. Like, everyone in Torrviol. Any friends, acquaintances, or people named Calisto. Everyone.¡±

    ¡°Well one good thing comes out of it then,¡± muttered Nicolus. ¡°Right, maybe not a good joke. But really¡ªhow do you know this?¡±

    ¡°Time travel,¡± Mirian said again. ¡°It¡¯s how I knew you were having study sessions. It¡¯s why I was asking all those pointed questions about ¡®so why would Akana attack Baracuel, hypothetically?¡¯ They do. I¡¯ve seen it, twice now. They have these giant airships that show up and cause a total rout, then they slaughter everyone left, and I don¡¯t even know why!¡±

    ¡°It does sound unbelievable,¡± Nicolus said.

    ¡°Obviously. That¡¯s why I¡¯ve barely tried to convince anyone this cycle. If I had meaningful predictions and irrefutable evidence, I wouldn¡¯t be on this train. But I¡¯ve decided to live this time. I can protect my little brother from the coming war at the very least.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you had a little brother,¡± Nicolus said.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian said. ¡°And he¡¯s cuter than anyone in the world.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re from¡­ east. Where again?¡±

    ¡°Arriroba.¡±

    Nicolus was silent. He looked at Nurea, who shrugged. ¡°My geography is failing me, apologies.¡±

    ¡°I doubt it¡¯s on any map you¡¯ve seen. North of Madinahr, which is east of Alkazaria.¡±

    The boy snapped his fingers. ¡°Now that one I have heard of!¡± he said, which made Nurea roll her eyes. Of course he¡¯d heard of Baracuel¡¯s second capital.

    The train chugged along slowly. It was an older train, so the spell engine was outdated. It only did ¡®slow.¡¯

    ¡°Soooo¡­¡± Mirian said, breaking the awkward silence that had settled over them. ¡°No other questions?¡±

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°I have a lot of questions. I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll answer them,¡± Sire Nurea said.

    ¡°Try me,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°You think there¡¯s going to be an attack.¡±

    ¡°Yup.¡±

    ¡°How do you know?¡±

    Mirian explained it, this time in detail. She told them about the hole in the ceiling, the first two times, what had changed, and what had stayed the same. There was plenty of time to tell it all. There weren¡¯t many towns between Torrviol and Cairnmouth, but it had to stop at all of them, so the journey would take at least six hours. When she was done, they¡¯d only made it through the first town on the route.

    Nurea just said, ¡°Interesting,¡± and Nicolus just furrowed his brow and didn¡¯t say anything at all.

    Mirian sighed. That seemed to be how things went. ¡°Well, as I said, all I really want is someone to listen to me when I say send the army to Torrviol and evacuate the town. No one will listen to me, but they might listen to you. I¡¯ll give you both some space.¡±

    She got up and moved seats so her back was to them.

    Normally, Mirian liked watching the forest go by. Occasionally, she¡¯d see the mycanoid trees with their huge caps that made them look like giant mushrooms, or they¡¯d see a wyvern swooping about beyond the spellward, but the view wasn¡¯t much to look at in the dark. Once in awhile, there was something glowing, or something tried to cross the spellward barrier and there was a flash of light. The smooth grind of the wheels on the track was soothing. In the end, she fell asleep.

    Her dreams were strange again. There was a clock, about to strike midnight, but it wouldn¡¯t move. A zephyr falcon streaked through the air down towards its prey, but as its talons unfurled, the distance between it and the target warped so that it was eternally striking, but only grasping at the air. She saw the tangled mossy mane of a bog lion, its muscled form creeping up on a boar, but never getting close enough to pounce. A teacup fell from a table, but never struck the ground. A breath inhaled, but never exhaled. Each time, she looked up to see what she thought might be a statue from the Luminate Temple, only far too large, and instead of stone, the skin slithered about. It was watching her. She woke with a sense of unbearable tension. It¡¯s coming, was all she could think. But what was coming? She didn¡¯t know.

    When Nicolus noticed she was awake, he came over to sit across from her. ¡°Hey,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°Sorry for being¡­ I mean I don¡¯t know what to say, which is weird, because I almost always have something to say, even if it¡¯s just a stupid joke. But I hope¡­ it all turns out alright.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she said. ¡°Good luck with your stuff too.¡±

    He nodded, then got up and moved back to where Nurea was. Soon after, the train pulled up to Cairnmouth Station.

    Cairnmouth always seemed overwhelming to her. It was crowded with too many people, and the buildings were too pressed up together. The claustrophobia was matched by its beauty, though. There was a unity to the architecture. Most of the houses used the same reinforced mudbrick-and-wood construction so that each house was framed by beautiful timber beams. The mudbrick gray just made the little splashes of color stand out. Here, a flower pot full of pale winterstar. There, a small mural painted to remember the saints. Down the street, a bright spot of a garden and a fountain amidst the worn cobblestones. Care had even been taken with those cobblestones to give checkered patterns of dark and light to the streets, or swirling designs. Two hills rose from the riverside and overlooked the Rift Sea beyond. Towering over the first was a great castle, and over the second, a Luminate Temple, the four corners of it supported by colossal statues of four of the Gods. She could just make them out from the station. Usually, when she stopped in Cairnmouth on her way home or to the Academy again, she spent some time walking in the gardens that surrounded the temple and admired the view of the city and the ocean beyond. From the hill, one could look across the Rift Sea on a clear day and make out the coast of Akana Praediar and see the brightly colored sailing ships that were constantly crossing. Here and there, the newer spell engine powered ships were anchored at port, far larger than the sailing ships. Even these, though, didn¡¯t match the sheer size of the airships that would be coming in a few days. Mirian still wondered how they¡¯d done it.

    Today, there was no time to see the sights of the city, to peruse the crowded markets full of every ware one might want, or to sit down at one of the many restaurants that lined the open plazas of the city. Which was a shame; she could smell the roasting meats and savory spices wafting from the nearest square. Since it was lunch, she bought a quick pastry from a nearby cafe for a few coral beadcoins, then joined the line to buy tickets for the next train heading east. The rail line between Cairnmouth and Alkazaria was the longest one in Baracuel, and also the most modern. It crossed the Cairn River, going north of the mountain range that split most of Baracuel, then wound south. It was significantly faster, and several of the trains sped past the smaller towns so that the whole trip only took a little less than two days.

    Nicolus and Nurea were heading on the southern route to Palendurio. Hopefully, that would work out for them. Palendurio was upriver from the coast, so it wasn¡¯t as vulnerable to attack from across the Rift Sea as Cairnmouth. She wondered if it had a larger garrison too. Surely, Baracuel would be able to muster a strong defense of its first capital.

    Standing in line, Mirian felt briefly unsettled. Something about the crowds felt wrong. They were too subdued, the conversations too hushed. Or maybe she was just tired. She hadn¡¯t gotten nearly enough sleep.

    Mirian got her ticket and boarded the train. This train was much more crowded, as one might expect from a late morning train on a major route, but she was able to find a seat to herself by a window. She looked out at the platform from that window, idly contemplating the crowds. There was a style of doublet she liked with elegant gold and violet patterns. One woman who looked to be a noble was wearing an old-fashioned corset, which seemed a bit outdated to her.

    The doors on the train closed, and a magical chime warned everyone it would be starting soon.

    Mirian looked across. There was a young man that looked nice, quite handsome, shoving through the crowd to¡ªwait, was that Nicolus?

    Mirian sat upright. Sure enough, there were Nicolus and Nurea. They approached the conductor, and Sire Nurea got right up in his face, practically shouting at him. Some coin changed hands, and he opened one of the doors, and the two got on, breathing hard. Gods above, had they sprinted to get here? What had happened to taking the train south?

    She stood up. ¡°Nicolus! There¡¯s a seat over here.¡±

    He started, then gestured for Nurea to come with him. Once again, they found themselves sitting across from each other as the train got underway.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she asked. ¡°I thought you were going to Palendurio.¡±

    ¡°Blood and hellfire, not anymore,¡± Nicolus said, clearly shaken but trying to put a humorous face on it. ¡°You didn¡¯t hear? There¡¯s rioting in the capital. Like, lots of it. Akanans and Baracueli fighting in the streets. Rumor has it that there was a massacre in the Akanan embassy, and that it was our own parliament that ordered it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s insane!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, it sounds totally¡­¡± he stopped. ¡°Casus belli,¡± he said. ¡°You wanted to know what would start a war. That¡¯s certainly one way they start. But Baracuel has no motive to¡­ the politics of it don¡¯t make sense. Unless¡­ there¡¯s someone else. Behind the scenes.¡± He turned to Nurea.

    She shook her head. ¡°Someone¡¯s up to something, but I can¡¯t even begin to guess who. The Syndicates don¡¯t even know.¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t say anything. She was pretty sure Sire Nurea was a lot more flustered than usual, and that she normally wouldn¡¯t let slip that she had contacts with the Syndicates. Ones she could visit fast, too. They¡¯d only been in Cairnmouth for an hour before the train departed.

    ¡°Something happened in Akana Praediar too,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°No one can figure out what, but messages suddenly stopped, and a bunch of ships have changed course. Cairnmouth might have riots soon. Whew. I sure hope Dad knows what he¡¯s doing.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine,¡± Nurea reassured him. ¡°The Palendurio estate has guards. And good wards.¡±

    ¡°Gods, I hope so.¡±

    For a while, they were silent, then they chatted amicably about classes for a bit, which ended in another awkward silence because it was clear that there was no going back to classes anymore.

    ¡°I guess I owe you an apology,¡± Nicolus finally said. ¡°So¡­ what happens next?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Each time the Akanas attacked, I died.¡±

    ¡°Ah, right.¡±

    They were silent again. Then, to the west, they saw the bright light of the eruption. They were an hour south of Cairnmouth, about to start tracking eastward when it happened. The eruption had to have been some miles off in the farmlands, but it was impossible to miss. It was like a geyser; a gout of violet and orange light shot up like a waterspout, carrying with it colossal boulders that it flung up like pebbles. Those boulders hung in the air for a moment before crashing down. The shockwave hit the train just after, the earth trembling and the wheels of the train screeching as the track moved beneath it. For a moment, Mirian thought the train might derail, but miraculously, it kept going, though panicked shouting filled the train and she could hear the spell engines up front making a noise that couldn¡¯t be good.

    ¡°What in the five hells was that?¡± Nicolus shouted.

    A chill went down Mirian¡¯s spine. That feeling of something bad coming was growing. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she whispered, but somehow, she knew it was about to get worse.

 Chapter 34 - Escalation

    Worried conversation filled the train after the eruption.

    ¡°Did you see that¡ª?¡±

    ¡°¡ªlooked like a magical explosion of some sort¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªtoo big to be a spell. Could a monster do that?¡±

    ¡°¡ªLabyrinth under there? Maybe some old artifact¡ª¡±

    It was clear no one had any clue what was going on, and everyone was scared. Over the next few hours, they saw four more geysers erupt across the countryside, though none so close or so large. Then, for a time, there was nothing. The train got quiet with anticipation. It felt like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the next geyser.

    Finally, Sire Nurea said, ¡°Does this have to do with the attack?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve never seen these before.¡±

    Gradually, the tension on the train let up as more time passed uneventfully, though the conversation was still subdued, with people paying far more attention than usual to what was out the window.

    That evening, they stopped at one of the stations along the route. The train stopped long enough for people to disembark, stretch, and buy food. Apparently, in Akana Praediar, the trains only stopped to let people off and get more on; if you wanted food, you just bought it on the train itself. Baracuel, as Selesia had put it, was too relaxed for that. Selesia, Mirian thought. I hope you¡¯re doing okay.

    Nurea and Nicolus bought a sleeping unit in one of the back cars for the night, while Mirian just slept in her seat. There¡¯d be a stop in the morning where they could stretch and buy food again. Whispered voices in the train woke her that night. She blinked back sleep, then saw the lights in the sky. Here in the low country, clouds and forests didn¡¯t block so much of the view. The horizons were long, and sky seemed bigger. High above in that sky, Mirian could make out what looked like faint crackling lines that arched across the sky, like cracks spreading in glass. The strange glow crawled from one horizon to the other, then disappeared.

    ¡°You¡¯re a mage, from the university, right?¡± one of the passengers asked. ¡°Do you know¡­ anything about that?¡±

    Mirian shook her head. It took her some time to get back to sleep. In the morning, she saw the train conductor talking with the station master.

    ¡°¡­the light signals east of us cut out,¡± Mirian overheard him saying. ¡°I can¡¯t send the car until I get confirmation the track ahead of you is free. Especially because of what you just told me happened out west.¡±

    Train stations used light signals that were relayed across a glyph-and-lens system to talk to each station. Communication was based off a series of flashing codes that meant things like, ¡®halt all trains¡¯ or ¡®train arrived.¡¯ The other way they could communicate was messenger birds. Not zephyr falcons¡ªthose were too expensive¡ªbut there was a kind of orange parakeet from down south that could be trained to fly between two places. Only two places though; for whatever reason, the birds got extremely surly if one tried to make them travel anywhere else.

    A clever artificer had invented a system with wires that seemed at first to be the perfect communication device. A scribe could write a message on a glyphed tablet, and the words would appear on the other side. Unlike the glyph-and-lens system, bad weather didn¡¯t affect it, and unlike the birds, the wires could reach multiple destinations along the line. This ¡®magical telegraph¡¯ had been laid down between Cairnmouth and Palendurio at great expense, only to break a week later. Investigation of the wire found that stonemoles had burrowed past the spellward barrier, which had no effect on them underground, and chewed it to pieces. They¡¯d gotten so fat off feasting on the magical energy in the wires that they didn¡¯t even burrow away when the magi found them, just sat there in a stupor, purring like cats.

    Several other attempts were made to protect the magical wire, but each was defeated by some hungry myrvite. The last attempt involved keeping the wire suspended over the ground and encased in a pipe, but somehow a magical mushroom had managed to get inside. Mirian had learned about it in one of her artifice classes as a warning as to how tenacious myrvites could be, and how every good item had defenses against just being eaten. A few cities still used the telegraph system, but only within the city, and only for important things since it was far more expensive than just hiring a runner to deliver a message.

    Mirian had plenty of time to sit at the station and reflect. What was the explanation for either of the things she had seen? The only thing she could think of was the leylines, but those were deep conduits of energy, deep enough they were usually below the Labyrinth. Magical surveying had mapped most of the major ones, and they sprawled across the globe in a complicated network. Viridian had said something about leylines at some point in his lectures, but only about how the myrvite ecology¡¯s connected to them. There had been some talk among the industrialist wizards of trying to harness the leylines as a source of unlimited energy, but that would involve building and maintaining conduits that stretched from the deepest parts of the Labyrinth to the surface. If the magical telegraph couldn¡¯t be sustained, there was no way such a device could. And that assumed the leyline didn¡¯t just annihilate whatever device tried to harness it. Likely, whoever tried would be like the wizard who tried to harness lightning: a cautionary tale to others.

    Flipping through her notebook on anything about sources of extreme magical energy turned up little. The Labyrinth was the only other possibility. The Elder Gods had placed artifacts of tremendous power there. But she¡¯d never heard of any of them doing anything like that. The instruments of the Gods were powerful in their complexity, not their total energy output.

    If it was the leylines, then¡­ what did that mean? As far as she knew, the leylines were poorly studied. They had been created when the Elder Gods had created the world, along with the divine Labyrinth. So if they were doing weird things¡­ were the Gods responsible?

    ¡°Any word?¡± she asked Nicolus when she saw him.

    ¡°We¡¯re out of our network here,¡± he said. ¡°And the Couriers are¡­ well, let¡¯s just say they¡¯re not taking any more orders right now. I mean, they didn¡¯t say that, against the king¡¯s law for them to refuse an order, but there¡¯s at least a hundred people from the train all trying to get messages out and only five messenger parakeets and two riders.¡±

    ¡°Any word on the light signals?¡±

    ¡°No. They sent a repair-car down the track to figure out why.¡±

    Mirian had missed that. The repair-cars were little more than four wheels, a platform with two chairs and some cargo boxes, and a little spell engine. The repair-car didn¡¯t even have a roof; if it rained, they got wet. Not that it looked like it was going to rain. From the edge of the northern horizon to the Casnevar Mountains to the south, there were only the faintest wisps of clouds. Apparently, they all gathered around Torrviol year round in a conspiracy to steal away the sun and immiserate her.

    Word got out there was a break in the tracks down the line where a magical fissure had formed. The rail mage and maintenance worker were working on fixing it, but they¡¯d asked for a second team to be dispatched to figure out what was going on with the magic rift, and if it would return.

    They ended up spending the night in town. With the inns immediately overwhelmed, most people slept on the train. Sometime during the night, a second train from Cairnmouth pulled in behind them.

    Finally, late the next morning, they departed again. For hours, the journey was routine, and it seemed they¡¯d left behind whatever troubles were going on. Then someone spotted a near constant stream of lightning pouring out of the earth into the sky. It went on for minutes on end, a rancorous thunder filling the air for miles, and then it stopped.

    A sense of foreboding settled on everyone. No one talked much. A few prayed. They were all on edge, waiting for the next thing. Mirian realized that marshaling a defense of Torrviol would be even harder than she thought. If this was what had been happening down south, it was a miracle anyone had even shown up to defend Torrviol at all.

    An earthquake rattled the train, and twice more people saw strange lights moving across the sky. By then, the prayers had intensified, and the priest on board was leading sessions where they held hands and recited poems of the prophets. After the last stop before Alkazaria, Nicolus and Nurea made their way to the sleeper car for the night.

    It was evening when it happened. They were maybe only an hour or two from Alkazaria, and Mirian had been looking forward to seeing the safety of its white marble spires and domed palaces. She¡¯d thought if she could reach the city, its majesty might protect her in some way. It was a foolish thought, but it had comforted her. All her delusions vanished when she saw the breach.

    She was looking out the window, and there, along the scrublands, the view was unblemished by any mountain or cloud. It started with a flash, and column of energy like lightning that linked the sky and ground. Then another, and the earth shook. Then the ground erupted, but this time it wasn¡¯t like a geyser. When Mirian had been a child, she¡¯d played a game when it rained. She¡¯d put a hemp rope under the mud, patting it down until it was flat, then lifted the rope all at once so that the grime splashed everywhere. Her dad had laughed¡ªor maybe he¡¯d been furious, and she¡¯d laughed. When she saw the coruscating line of arcane energy smashing through the landscape, she thought of that rope breaching the mud, except at an impossible scale. It was a leyline, actually emerging from deep underground. It could be nothing else. If there had been mountains nearby, the blazing line of light would have sheared off their tops. As it was, it danced through the air wildly, at first, not making a sound. But like lightning, the thunder came, and when it came, it wasn¡¯t a simple clap of rolling thunder, it was continuous and deafening. The train shook, and then it shook harder, and then Mirian was sure they were going to die. Even though she couldn¡¯t hear the screech of metal over the overwhelming sound of the leyline storm, she felt it, and then she was flying through the air. By some miracle of reaction, she had pulled out her spellrod when the light began, and more on instinct than anything, channeled mana into a force shield. She was only just in time. As she was hurled across the train, the force shield shattered, but that absorbed the worst of it. A second later and her head might have smashed into the ceiling, which was now perpendicular to the ground.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Mirian tried to stand up, but the shaking was too intense. The window, now above her, had shattered, and her right hand had been lacerated by the glass. She hardly felt the pain, because there was pain in her bones, and her ears, and everywhere. Arcanists learned to tune their senses to arcane energy. Always before, that energy had felt insubstantial, like the faintest whisper in the air, or the lightest touch imaginable. Now, the arcane energy was palpable¡ªshe was pretty sure even the untrained people on the train could feel it. It was as loud as a scream and as sharp as a razor. Another shock-wave smashed into the train, this one a blast of heat, and the sideways train car screeched as it was pushed across the ground another few inches.

    And then, just when she thought she might die of it, the noise stopped. The feeling of arcane energy battering down her senses stopped. The lightning-bright glow stopped. The shaking stopped. She stood, trembling.

    The derailment had caused the different passenger cars to tear apart from each other, so even though it was sideways, Mirian found she could scramble out the door.

    She threw herself down onto the hard-packed earth and managed to scrape her left hand on the needles of a nearby cactus. Again, she could hardly feel the pain; there was too much adrenaline coursing through her. Mirian stood back and surveyed the damage.

    The train had been derailed and flipped sideways. She¡¯d figured out that much. What she hadn¡¯t realized is that it had been thrown a full hundred feet from the tracks. Without the force shield, she was sure she¡¯d be dead. Even with the force shield, she should have been dead. Bodies were strewn about everywhere, and several train cars had been torn open like they were made of tissue paper instead of steel.

    Beyond the train was utter devastation. The land had been flat before; now it was covered in jagged hills of rock. In the evening light, she could see cracks running throughout that rock that glowed an eldritch green, like some sort of otherworldly lava ran through it. Behind those hills, there was something else. In the choking dust and sand that the leyline eruption had left behind was a tangled mess of shining metal. At first, Mirian couldn¡¯t tell what she was looking at. The long rectangular bars that criss-crossed each other in a maze-like array seemed too much like a blacksmith¡¯s puzzle glistening in the sunset that had grown to extraordinary size. The colors that played across the metallic skin of it didn¡¯t seem to properly reflect the light around them. Then, she realized what she was looking at: a chunk of the Labyrinth. The leyline eruption had brought it up to the surface.

    The feeling of dread grew in her. This wasn¡¯t just about some attack on Torrviol. She coughed in the choking dust that was everywhere. Survivors, she realized. Did anyone else live? She checked the car she¡¯d crawled out of. No one in that car was moving. Belatedly, she realized her satchel with her spellbook and clothes was still in there, and dragged it out. She tried casting a collect dust spell to clear the air around her so she could breathe properly, but there was too much of it in the air. For every little ball of dust she collected in her palm with the spell, more just came in. She set her things down and checked the other cars.

    It was horrifying. People¡¯s limbs had been severed in some places, and their bodies lay contorted, often with bones poking out. She had to take a moment to steady her breathing, which was hard when the air was so dirty. In the fifth car she checked, there was an older woman whose ragged breathing she could hear. ¡°I¡¯m coming to get you,¡± she said.

    ¡°Thank you, dear,¡± rasped the woman, and she smiled at Mirian. Then her head lolled back, and the breathing stopped. Mirian drew back, eyes wide. Then she realized that there was a metal beam that had pierced the woman¡¯s gut, and her blood had pooled beneath her. Gods above, she thought.

    By the eighth car, Mirian was ready to give up. It was getting dark, and the dusk light streaming through the dusk gave the sky a reddish glow. Then she heard noise coming from the nearby railcar and muffled shouting. The nearby cars on each side of it had pinned the doors shut. There was no moving them; even Lily¡¯s greatest lift object wasn¡¯t going to do anything. Lily, I hope you got out, she thought. I hope you¡¯re safe. But was anyone safe?

    Mirian got out her spellrod and switched the dials around for her shape metal spell. She channeled, but the thick steel of the car was too much. She thought she might have been able to thin the metal in a small section, but even repeated casts would barely open up a hole in the car. The spell was designed for work on crafting projects, not anything this big. There was no way she was making a space large enough for a human to get through. The force blades wouldn¡¯t do much to cut through steel either, and they might hurt whoever was inside.

    ¡°¡ªout there?¡± she heard the muffled cry from inside.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± Mirian said, then inhaled enough dust to start violently coughing, delaying the next part of her response. ¡°I¡¯m¡ªI¡¯m trying to get you out. Can you climb out through the windows?¡±

    The reply was hard to hear, but she thought she heard ¡°nothing to stand on,¡± and something about ¡°jagged metal.¡± It was up to her then.

    Mirian started by using the spellrod¡¯s enhanced lift object to gather nearby rocks and debris into a pile, then realized she might need her mana for other things and started lugging about the rocks herself. She used repeated casts of her shape stone spell to stabilize the rickety pile, then hoisted herself up on top the car. Finally, she could look down.

    Oh Gods, she thought. It was Nicolus down there. He was a mess, his eyes red from crying, and it looked like his leg was broken. He was holding Sire Nurea in his arms, rocking her gently back and forth. Nurea¡¯s face had gone totally white, and she wasn¡¯t moving.

    ¡°Nicolus,¡± she said, trying to keep her voice steady. ¡°I¡¯m going to help get you out of there.¡±

    He looked up at her, and she could see nothing of the confidence and humor he usually carried. His spirit had been broken as badly as any of the train cars. ¡°She¡¯s gone,¡± he said, voice tender. ¡°How can she be gone, Mirian?¡± Mirian felt sick. Nicolus had known Nurea his whole life. She¡¯d probably been by his side since his first memories.

    Nicolus¡¯s spellbook had gone missing, buried under something or flung from the train when it crashed. His leg was certainly broken, and his right arm wasn¡¯t working well either. Her lift object spell wouldn¡¯t work on him because of the spell resistance of his aura, never mind his weight, so she used the spell instead to move the seats into a pile one at a time. Her auric mana was rapidly thinning, so she climbed back down to check her bag for the mana elixir she¡¯d bought, but the crash had shattered the bottle.

    She climbed back up, every part of her sore and aching, but there was no way she could leave Nicolus there. The last light of dusk vanished as Mirian worked, the red glow fading to dark. She cast her light spell, then finished making a pile tall enough for Nicolus. With his broken leg and hurt arm, she needed a way to make the pile of seats not fall apart as he dragged himself up it, so like with the rocks, she used manipulate object and shape wood to give the makeshift ramp some stability by linking the wooden pieces of the seats together. Then, she used phantom sandpaper to file down the jagged glass around the nearby section of window so Nicolus wouldn¡¯t be lacerated as she pulled him up. At last, Nicolus was able to balance on one leg, leaning against the wall of the car and reach up with his good arm. Mirian leaned down, and with two hands heaved him up. Her muscles strained as she leaned back to get the best leverage she could. She grunted with the effort, and then at last, she was able to drag Nicolus to a point where he could use his arms to help.

    ¡°Gods you¡¯re strong,¡± he said. ¡°Thanks. I¡­¡± He looked back at Nurea¡¯s corpse, pale and peaceful. ¡°I¡¯ll come back for her,¡± he vowed. ¡°Give her the hero¡¯s burial she deserves. She¡ªshe saved me,¡± he sobbed. Mirian gave him a moment, as sobs wracked his body again, then helped him down, using her arms to cradle his good foot as he stepped down onto the debris pile, then lower it. Despite their care, Nicolus put pressure on the broken leg as he climbed down. He clenched his teeth and hissed in pain, face going white and breathing ragged. Then he continued down, and collapsed onto the dirt.

    The Luamin moon was nearly full as it crept up from the horizon, and above they could also see the Divir moon, nearly straight above them. When Mirian¡¯s light spell went out, they took a moment to gaze at the full sky of stars around them. Then, Mirian heard something moving nearby.

    ¡°Five hells, we need to get back in a car.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°The spellward. There¡¯s no way it¡¯s still up after a magical explosion like that. Anything with active mana flow would have¡ªwe have to move. Let¡¯s go!¡± she said, dragging Nicolus up.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Nicolus said, ¡°You think there¡¯s myrvites out there?¡±

    ¡°With this many dead bodies? Come on. Can you hobble faster?¡±

    Mirian heard something growling outside as they went into one of the cars that had only one door exposed. Things could still climb in from the broken windows above, but at least the narrow entrance by the ground would make it less likely for desert drakes or manticores to get in.

    Mirian dragged some more seats that had broken off to barricade the door. Already, she could hear creatures crawling about the cars, claws scraping on metal as they went about scavenging for carrion. If there was anyone still alive, Mirian prayed they died quickly as a mercy. Something flying above let out a wailing call. The desert air was getting cold. Mirian took the cloaks off some of the dead, though they were torn and caked with drying blood, because they¡¯d need them to stay warm. She couldn¡¯t keep casting heat spells. They huddled together as the night''s chill descended. It hadn¡¯t been so long ago that Mirian had idly wondered what it would be like for Nicolus to wrap his arms around her and give her comfort, but here she was doing that for him. Had it only been three months? It felt like years had passed.

    They settled down in the dark and prayed they¡¯d survive the night.

 Chapter 35 - Apocalypse

    They both slept uneasily, waking up whenever they heard loud scraping nearby, or the teeth of some predator sinking loudly into dead flesh. Twice, Mirian woke to hear Nicolus sobbing softly to himself. When dawn finally broke, Mirian was relieved. The myrvites would still be scavenging for corpses, but at least they¡¯d be able to see them and steer clear. Likely, they could avoid being attacked. Most animals preferred easy food, and there was plenty of that around now.

    Mirian handed Nicolus her spellbook so he could use some of his own mana to fashion himself a crutch. A metal rod served the purpose, with force polish sanding off the edges. They decided against scavenging for any sort of food. The train cars were now infested with myrvites. Two desert drakes lounged by an overturned car, bits of flesh still dangling from their teeth, and lightning scorpions were crawling over the cars, the cat-sized arachnids clinking over the metal. Several lightning scorpions had started eating the corpses that were in the car with them sometime during the night, and both of them were thankful that they hadn¡¯t decided either of them were food.

    They decided to head south first. Mirian knew there was a river that came down from the distant mountains south of them and wound its way north then curved back southeast to Alkazaria. One of those bends was nearby, and they would need the water. Mirian had hurt her knee, which was aching fiercely now, and Nicolus was even slower with his crutch. They walked throughout the day, but slowly, both of them needing constant breaks. Twice, Mirian had drawn her spellrod because two-headed vultures were circling above. Eventually, they moved on, no doubt joining the feast by the train.

    In the evening, they finally saw the river. ¡°Oh thank the Gods,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°A village.¡±

    Sure enough, there was a collection of sandstone houses and a market by the river, a dirt road that paralleled the river going through it. It wasn¡¯t much, but the sentries outside the village spotted them.

    The first sentry was a woman old enough to be Mirian¡¯s grandmother. She had piercing hazel eyes and a stern look to her, but she spoke with a protective tone. ¡°The spellward in the village failed. Very dangerous. You saw¡­ it?¡±

    There could only be one it she was talking about. ¡°It was close to us. Derailed the train we were on. I think we¡¯re the only survivors,¡± she told the woman.

    ¡°Gods above. Let¡¯s get you to the temple.¡± She let Nicolus lean on her as they moved into the village, which was easier than the crutch.

    The temple was just a larger sandstone building with a plaster dome on top, but well cared for and with colorful cloth draped about to give it a cozy feeling, and beautiful geometric designs on the walls. Small bronze statues of the Gods lined the halls, and in the side rooms were beds.

    ¡°You are¡­ together?¡± the woman asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Nicolus said, at the same time Mirian said, ¡°No.¡±

    Nicolus looked at her with pleading eyes. ¡°Mirian I¡­ I can¡¯t be alone. Please.¡±

    ¡°Together,¡± she said, and squeezed Nicolus¡¯s hand to comfort him. After what he¡¯d lost, she could show him that kindness. She wondered when the last time he was truly alone was, given how close to his side Nurea always was.

    ¡°The priest comes once a week,¡± the woman told them. ¡°Goes up and down the river to each village. He should be here in a few days. Until then, there¡¯s always someone on duty to care for the temple. They can help with food, or there¡¯s a kitchen in the back if you can manage it. You both need to rest. Especially him,¡± she said. She put a salve on his leg and all over their various cuts to prevent infection, but unfortunately, that was all she could do for them. They both thanked her profusely.

    ¡°I have coin,¡± Nicolus offered, but the woman shook her head. ¡°Worry about that later, when you¡¯re better.¡±

    They had meant to go to Alkazaria, but it soon became apparent they were in no condition for that. Nicolus especially was in bad shape, and started running a fever. Mirian might have made the journey, but she couldn¡¯t abandon him. Home would have to wait.

    The next day, two traders got put up in the temple in the room across from them to wait for a healer too. ¡°A myrvite attack,¡± one said. ¡°Didn¡¯t even know the spellwards had failed.¡± A manticore had gone after their caravan. They were lucky; it had killed their two camels, but the magic items in their packs had held its attention while they fled. One had gotten grazed by the poison spines the manticore shot, while the other had received a glancing blow to his arm. The arm was broken, and would probably need to be amputated.

    ¡°Spellwards didn¡¯t just fail here, it¡¯s all along the road. Travel¡¯s no longer safe, not even by river,¡± the woman who¡¯d been acting as sentry said. Today was her duty at the temple, and she made a nice hot soup for them, using the proper eastern Baracuel spices that Mirian had missed up in Torrviol.

    During the day, Mirian and Nicolus lingered outside on the benches by the market square. It was a tiny market, mostly full of produce and fish. Mirian stepped in and helped a few craftsfolk when she could. Nicolus lapsed into naps throughout the day. Eventually his fever broke, but he¡¯d regained none of his usual energy. She couldn¡¯t tell if it was depression, or his injuries were that bad. Maybe both.

    As the days progressed, Mirian marked her mental calendar. Reports came in of other strange goings on. Sea serpents spotted moving up the river. More of those strange geysers. Myrvite activity was on the rise, and one man said he¡¯d seen several desert drakes go into a frenzy fighting over an abandoned enchanted item they were trying to sap the mana from. The villagers started trying to rebuild the old sandstone wall that had once surrounded the village, repairing it with mudbrick reinforced with straw. It was a primitive but tried and true solution. It was also necessary; the two local magi couldn¡¯t get the spellward that had been protecting them working, and it seemed the other villages had the same problem. Mirian helped out where she could with magic, but despite all her academic knowledge, the village magi had two decades of experience on her. Mostly, she cast cantrips to support their efforts and looked up glyph combinations that might help. In the end, repairing the spellward was beyond all of their expertise. Maybe if Professor Atger had known how to teach, she thought when another of their attempted fixes failed.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    There would be no news of it after that leyline eruption, but when the 28th of Solem arrived, Mirian thought about Torrviol. She wondered if Lily or Xipuatl had gotten out before the attack, or if Torres had spotted the advancing army and sounded the warning in time.

    That night, neither Mirian or Nicolus could sleep, so they walked out to one of the benches. ¡°What is happening?¡± he said, probably for the hundredth time.

    ¡°I wish I knew.¡±

    ¡°Will you be able to¡­ will you be able to go back and stop it?¡±

    Mirian was silent. Above, they both watched as a faint line of arcane energy danced across the sky. In the distant mountains to the south, a fissure of green fire had opened up and was belching a strange smoke into the air; they could just see the emerald flames dancing, which meant that the fire had to be miles high. At last she said, ¡°I don¡¯t know. How do I stop¡­ this?¡±

    There was a distant cry from some beast. A manticore, maybe. ¡°We should go inside,¡± Nicolus said, and reached for his crutch. Mirian and one of the villagers had made him a proper wooden crutch with a cloth pad.

    ¡°I¡¯ll try, though,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I promise.¡±

    Nicolus smiled at her, though it was a pained smile.

    ***

    The next leyline eruption they saw from a distance. At first, Mirian thought a second sun had lit up the western horizon, but no, the explosion was just that bright. The crackling line of violet and orange energy burst from the ground and writhed about in the air, leaving demented looking clouds before it finally smashed back down into the ground. It left behind a fissure that belched dark smoke. It took at least a minute for the earthquake to reach them. Most of the houses were well constructed, reinforced with wooden beams and a few glyphs, but one of the older houses near the outskirts collapsed. Mirian rushed over with the villagers to help clear the rubble, but the man who had lived there was dead when they unburied him. The wall had fallen on his head.

    For two more days, the eruptions continued. Some were so distant that they could only see the flashes of light beyond the horizon, while others were close enough to shake the earth. Strange colors danced about in the sky, not just at night, but during the day as well.

    Something spooked the myrvites, too. They¡¯d stopped attacking people, and had started fleeing. The scary thing was, they were all going the exact same direction: northwest. One afternoon, Mirian and Nicolus held hands and watched a swarm of lightning scorpions moving past the village, while overhead some fifty vultures all flew together.

    One of the sentries had seen an entire herd of desert drakes moving together, which was especially strange because unlike the fire drakes up north, desert drakes were solitary animals. Mirian could sympathize. Her arcane sense had been tingling nonstop for days now. It was as if someone were casting spells right next to her. Strong ones, too.

    Everyone was on edge, but no one knew what to do. That evening, the priest finally stopped by the village. He looked exhausted, but he dutifully worked his blessings on those in the temple. By then, two villagers had joined the wounded¡ªattacked by passing myrvites.

    The next day, the village gathered to discuss what to do.

    ¡°We should follow the myrvites,¡± one of the village elders said. ¡°They know something we don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re probably running to where the magic is strongest. We should go the opposite direction,¡± another said. Most, though, agreed that it was best to stay in the village. There was no sense abandoning their homes when they didn¡¯t know where anyone would be safe.

    A few hours later, though, a group passing through told them of a different calamity approaching. ¡°There¡¯s a fissure spreading from out west, a mile a day. It overtook four of the villages upstream. The cracks keep spreading in all directions. It¡¯ll reach the river soon.¡±

    The village still voted to stay, but when the river suddenly dried up, they joined the groups of refugees heading east toward Alkazaria. The going was slow, which was fine by Nicolus, who still was walking with a limp. By now, Mirian spent most of her days in silence, simply watching and remembering. That ominous feeling was still building inside of her. They camped by the river with groups from several other villages, then departed.

    By then, it was the 4th of Duala. It had been eleven days since she¡¯d left Torrviol. The line of refugees snaked along the river, and all Mirian could think about was how she¡¯d escaped one horrible exodus simply to join another. She had simply replaced the raw panic with a creeping dread. That evening, they spotted Alkazaria in the distance, the white spires just visible. There was talk of safety at last, and that the Luminate archbishops there would certainly know what to do to appease the Gods.

    Then the sky brightened.

    It was as if the sun had come out from behind a cloud, but the sun was already out, and the sky was clear. In the distance, two more leylines breached the surface, sending thunder roaring across the scrubland, then vanished¡ªthen another appeared just after. Murmurs passed through the crowd, and then someone said, ¡°Look!¡±

    The crowd looked up, and a collective gasp ran down the line.

    It was the Divir moon that had brightened. It usually wasn¡¯t visible during the day, but now it was¡ªand it was getting larger and brighter. Some people wailed, some ran, but most fell to their knees and prayed. It got larger, and larger, until it burned larger and brighter than the sun, a coruscating ball of orange and violet light, the magical energy so intense even at this distance that Mirian felt as though a hurricane was passing through her, scouring away everything.

    Mirian stared, slack-jawed as the moon descended. Before, she had clawed and screamed for life, but here, she could do nothing but stare in silence. She couldn¡¯t even feel despair, it was so far beyond that. She felt Nicolus reach for her hand and squeeze it tight. Mirian squeezed his back. She could do nothing to stop this, but she could provide that little bit of comfort for him, here at the end of the world.

    The light above them grew, the fireball that was the Divir moon filling the sky until it was blinding, and then past that¡ªshe could feel the heat of it on her soul. In those last moments, as Divir came crashing down to Enteria, Mirian finally understood what she had to stop.

 Chapter 36 - New Goals

    Mirian awoke in her dorm, and was silent. She was silent as she gathered her things and went upstairs to turn off the water heater, silent as she came back down and dressed, and silent as she packed her satchel full of the things she¡¯d need for the day. She moved automatically, not really processing what she was doing. All her thoughts were on what had just happened. The sheer scale of it was overwhelming.

    She was out the door before Lily was awake. She couldn¡¯t think of anything to say to her. Sure, she could try and convince her time travel was real again, but what was the point? Anyone she saved from the attack would die a few days later when the Divir moon crashed down.

    She still couldn¡¯t believe it. Leyline eruptions across Enteria. The second moon had fallen from the sky. How could she even begin to stop something like that?

    This third reset, the fourth time she¡¯d awoken on the 1st of Solen, made a definite pattern. She had to assume it would happen again. She could no longer live for a future that wasn¡¯t going to happen. She had to live for the strange now that had become apparent. Whatever had happened to her wasn¡¯t just tied to some attack, but to the very end of the world.

    Mirian had been accumulating questions. It was clear to her that there would be no easy answers. Well, she could handle that, couldn¡¯t she? She hadn¡¯t enrolled in the Torrviol Academy because it was the easy path. She knew how to learn. She knew how to study. She would find her answers, and she would find some way. She had meant the promise she made to Nicolus: she would stop this. What other choice did she have? She knew she would find no satisfaction in some hedonistic life where nothing she did stayed permanent. She had become an artificer in part because she liked building things that would last. It seemed the only thing that lasted was her, so she would need to improve herself¡ªgrow until she knew enough.

    During the last days of the third cycle, Mirian had time to reflect on what she might do in a fourth cycle. As the foreboding had deepened, it had become apparent to her this was an inevitability.

    She waited in the alley next to the Alchemistry building and ripped the satchel off the Akanan spy, then disappeared into the building, lingering in the back with her notebook open while she pretended to read it. It was less that she wanted the scroll with the cipher, and more that she wanted the glyphkey to Griffin Hall so she could return to the passages. The money was an added bonus. The seeker-stone might come in handy too.

    When the class was mostly settled, Mirian found a spot with two open seats that was near the door. Sure enough, when Nicolus came in late, he chose a spot where Calisto couldn¡¯t sit next to him¡ªwhich was next to Mirian. Mirian didn¡¯t say anything. What could she say? I watched your cradle your dead knight protector. If I don¡¯t go with you, you end up trapped in a railcar with her corpse and are probably eaten alive by myrvites. We held hands at the end of the world. And you¡¯ll never remember any of it.

    The numbness that had settled over her lingered, even as her thoughts raced about. Mechanically, she went through the motions of taking notes, though it was less listening to Professor Seneca and more just transcribing what she had by now memorized. Nicolus invited her to study, and she pretended to be pleased about it. She hoped he couldn¡¯t see the pain hidden inside her. The study sessions might be useful, but more, she just wanted that time to be with friends, even if they wouldn¡¯t remember her.

    Mirian stopped by the Academy crafting area to pick up the wood and copper scrap she¡¯d need to fix the hole and pipe. She decided to ignored the second spy going into the Myrvite Studies building. She couldn¡¯t see a use in stopping him, not yet anyways. She just relaxed in Viridian¡¯s class and thought. Of course, with her mind totally distracted from the lecture, she couldn¡¯t help but notice that Valen kept looking at her. That girl, she thought. But the annoyance seemed small now, and its familiarity brought her a strange comfort.

    In Enchantments, she finished her exam and turned it in early, much to the consternation of Professor Eld. After her presentation in Artifice Design, she zoned out, thinking. By the end of class, she¡¯d made her decision on her path forward. That scroll and seeker-stone would be useful after all. It was only Arcane Mathematics that she paid attention in. She drew more four dimensional figures in rotation, trying to get a grasp on the strange lines and shapes that the equations implied, but the human eye literally could not see.

    After class, she went up to Professor Jei. ¡°Professor, I have two things that might interest the project you and Professor Torres are working on. This came off an Akanan spy,¡± she said, and handed over the scrolls, ¡°and this is a tracking stone. I¡¯m pretty sure the spies have been planting them on people working on the project. You¡¯ll want to keep it encased in metal so they can¡¯t track it.¡± She placed it back in the spy¡¯s satchel, then handed it over, minus the glyphkeys and the coin she¡¯d already pocketed.

    Professor Jei gave her a funny look. ¡°You are acting strange,¡± she said. ¡°Be less strange.¡±

    Mirian shook her head. ¡°I could explain it, but no one has believed me yet. Not until it¡¯s too late. If you talk to Torres, tell her I know about the Persaman spellrod. Things¡­ go wrong soon. You¡¯ve never ended up teaching me the Artifice Design class next quarter. So I¡¯m changing that this time. And if you can avoid it, you might want to stop taking the passage underneath Griffin Hall. I¡¯m pretty sure you¡¯re not the only one using it.¡± She nodded at the blank wall behind her. ¡°If you want, I can press the secret brick¡­?¡± Mirian offered.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Professor Jei narrowed her eyes. ¡°Not necessary. Hm. How do you know these things? You did not know them yesterday.¡±

    ¡°Time travel,¡± Mirian said. ¡°As I said, totally unbelievable, so you can come up with some other plausible story and believe that instead. But if you do believe me, I¡¯m open to collecting data on it. I just need someone to come up with the math that needs testing.¡± She smiled at the professor, then left.

    On her way to Bainrose to meet Nicolus and Nurea, she glanced back at Giffon Hall. Professor Jei had, for once, used the front door to leave. Good, she thought. She¡¯d have to see what pulling on that string did.

    ***

    She did well enough in Alchemistry the next day. During Artifice presentations, she noticed Torres giving her a funny look, but she didn¡¯t say anything, so neither did Mirian. Good, she and Jei talked. Mirian decided against going down into the door under Bainrose. For one, she wasn¡¯t sure if nabbing the first spy¡¯s bag screwed that up, and for a second, just having a look at the big door wouldn¡¯t do much. She needed to be able to fight the spy down there if she wanted to actually have a chance to look at it. Or, figure out whatever he was doing to open the hidden door in the first place and obtain whatever glyphkey was needed¡ªwhich had the danger of getting caught and imprisoned. Or worse. And she wouldn¡¯t be any good in a fight even with the spells she was now learning, because her spellbook was eternally starting with spells that were near useless in combat.

    Learn now, figure the rest out later, she decided.

    After classes, it was time to meet Selesia again. This time, she let it happen naturally¡ªmostly. At the end of dinner though, she said, to Selesia, ¡°Hey, you seem really into rapier dueling. Do you want me to teach you?¡±

    Selesia bit her lip nervously. ¡°Wait, really? I couldn¡¯t, I mean, aren¡¯t sixth year classes really hard? Do you really have time?¡±

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°I think I¡¯ve got a pretty good handle on things. Tell you what, you teach me some Eskanar, and we¡¯ll call it a fair trade. I¡¯ve been meaning to learn the language.¡±

    Lily made a face that said no you haven¡¯t, but since Selesia and Mirian had been subtly flirting for nearly an hour, she didn¡¯t say anything.

    She made no predictions for Lily this time. There was no friction between them, or the barely-covered worry in her eyes. It was nice.

    In the evenings, she could relax with Lily, or Selesia. Once the second quarter started, she could enjoy the company of Nicolus and Xipuatl. She¡¯d have the new illusion and combat magic classes to learn in. Until then, she had all of Bainrose library at her disposal, plenty of money, and plenty of predictable days. She established her line of credit with Tower Trust bank and loaded up on magical supplies.

    Then Mirian started reading up on divination.

    Like most magic, divination was complicated, with its own set of associated magichemicals and glyphs. Like illusions, there were spells with a mental component, and spells without. It was the spells without that she was interested in¡ªthe kind that could detect seeker-stones, or map a room through a keyhole. Several hours in the library gave her a decent map of the foundations and told her what she would need to focus on. The stuff she¡¯d started on last cycle and the primitive cave-detector she¡¯d made were a good start, but there were other devices that would be far more useful. One spell she zeroed in on was a cartographer¡¯s spell. If properly integrated into a device, it could draw maps for her. An advanced version of the spell and device could be linked to a projector spell engine and actually show an illusionary, three-dimensional map. She didn¡¯t think she¡¯d be doing that anytime soon, but she could certainly get the simple version of the spell to draw maps for her. That would make mapping the buried tunnels of Torrviol significantly easier.

    She made good progress over the weekend. Then, on Firstday, Professor Jei arrived to the exam looking jumpy, and flanked by the usual two proctors. When she made to leave, Mirian leapt from her seat. ¡°Professor!¡± she said. ¡°Can I talk with you briefly before you go?¡±

    Jei met her outside the door, which she shut so the other students couldn¡¯t overhear them. ¡°You are acting strange again,¡± she said.

    ¡°Did Torres have the spellrod?¡±

    ¡°What is this about, Mirian?¡±

    ¡°After this day I never see you again. Wherever you plan on going now, I don¡¯t know, but no one sees you again. Torres takes over the Artifice Design class next quarter. That¡¯s how I know about the spellrod.¡±

    ¡°Why are you acting like you know the future?¡± Professor Jei said. She was more agitated than Mirian had ever seen.

    ¡°Because I do. Listen¡ªI talked to Torres last cycle at the King of the Grill diner and made a bunch of predictions. They checked out, but she couldn¡¯t be convinced. She wouldn¡¯t tell me anything about the project, but I know it¡¯s big. I know, because Akana Praediar targets Torrviol for extermination in twenty-three days. Hence the spies, and the scroll. Did you decode the cipher?¡±

    ¡°Obviously not. I have been busy, and I do not speak Eskanar,¡± Jei said. ¡°You know things you should not, but you also do not understand what you are doing.¡±

    ¡°You get it perfectly, then,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Look, promise me you don¡¯t go where you¡¯re about to go. You have to change whatever you were planning or something bad happens, and I don¡¯t know what. Promise me, or I¡¯ll go press the secret brick right now. That¡¯s the only leverage I have, but I¡¯ll do it.¡±

    Jei closed her eyes. ¡°You do not understand. I¡­ augh! I do not know the words in your language that can make me very understood.¡±

    ¡°Did you find a seeker-stone in your stuff?¡±

    Professor Jei closed her mouth in a thin line, which Mirian took to mean ¡®yes.¡¯

    ¡°Something has to change. I¡¯ll answer any question you have for me after this¡ªbut you have to live through the next few days. I wish I could tell you more, but, well, I¡¯m still new to this whole time travel thing. And no one believes me, even when there¡¯s really not another good explanation.¡± Mirian opened the door and headed back in. She turned back to say, ¡°Take care Professor.¡± Maybe that had been enough. Probably not though.

    She went back and took the exam. She¡¯d still never actually seen a grade for it, though now she knew why; there probably wasn¡¯t anyone qualified to go over it once Jei went missing.

    Then it was back to her independent studies. That very evening, she started working on a cartography device.

 Chapter 37 - Mapping A Course

    The first cartography device she made failed spectacularly. Creations like the spellrod just needed open mana channels linked to glyphs, and casting a spell was as simple as pushing mana through that channel and each glyph in the sequence. However, the mana flow through the cartography device needed to be strictly regulated, or, as she discovered when she tried testing the first prototype, there¡¯d be too much force applied to the pen and it would go flying off, tearing a hole in the paper. Or, as she discovered with the second prototype, it was easy to get the balance of forces that influenced the pen wrong and cause it to transcribe scratching her head as a blocked passage. Also, the ink pot on that one exploded, and she wasn¡¯t sure why.

    Divination, as it turned out, required a great deal of precision. Mirian honestly thought she¡¯d gotten lucky with the cave-detector last cycle. She ended up taking a trip to the Artificer¡¯s Tower to check out some of the design books there, and bought another set of tools that would help her artifice work be more precise. The work was grueling, requiring precision in glyphwriting that even Professor Eld hadn¡¯t required. Making the wands she needed for combat certification was relaxing in comparison.

    One of the shop stewards started giving her funny looks. ¡°Isn¡¯t it between quarters? You¡¯ve been here more than I have today. Take a break!¡±

    ¡°This is what I do for fun,¡± she told him.

    ¡°Not judging by the amount of curses I¡¯ve heard out of your mouth it isn¡¯t.¡±

    Well, he had a point. Mirian tried relaxing by taking a walk in the Mage¡¯s Grove, but her mind kept wandering. She remembered the airships and felt dread. She remembered Nicolus holding his dead knight and felt sorrow. She remembered being shot as she fled across the rotunda and felt fear. Meditation and deep breathing only helped so much. It was better if her mind was totally focused. Then, those horrible memories couldn¡¯t bite at her. She went back to Bainrose and found some more books on precision artifice.

    The next day the shop steward saw her again and said, ¡°You again? Is this a special project for a professor or something?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Mirian, because there was no sense in telling the truth. She got right back to work, deploying her new precision calipers and arcanometer to measure mana flow in each of her circuits. This led to her making several adjustments with the silver wiring and recasts of most of the glyphs. Her new glyphpen had a marked ink vial that could measure exact amounts of the magical ink so that she could get balance of magichemicals right. Then, when the measurements were still off, she realized the inks she was using were probably too cheap. Damn, she thought. I need to take more alchemy classes so I can mix these myself. Some of the merchants had to either be skimping on the expensive ingredients in the ink, or they were using cheaper instruments themselves. For most classes, and most items, it didn¡¯t make much difference. The good news was, once she knew what the measurement error was with her arcanometer, she could calculate an adjustment to the amount of magical ink she was using on the glyphs. It was time consuming, and a bit wasteful. She wondered if there was any way she could use the wizardry labs in Torrian Tower.

    That grand tower that dominated the skyline of Torrviol was where a great deal of cutting edge research was done. Professor Viridian was one of the few wizards who stayed in the Myrvite Studies building; the rest mostly stuck to the spire, where expensive labs, powerful wards, and intricate spell engines allowed them to push the limits of knowledge. Mirian had seen Professor Endresen entering the building a few times, and in her lectures she¡¯d talked about just how much precision was needed to measure the properties they were studying. She¡¯d also seen just how much magic was running through the tower when it was demolished by artillery during the first cycle. Mirian had never heard of a student going into the tower. But she had heard of students working on special projects for a professor, which might necessarily mean using their research space, wherever that was. Mirian filed ¡®impress Professor Endresen¡¯ in her mind as something she might try in a future cycle. There was too much to do already for her to try that this time, and she didn¡¯t even know what such a move might be needed for. The high tech labs of Torrian Tower would be overkill for the device she was making, even if they might be useful.

    The days passed quickly. She met Selesia again, and enjoyed teaching her various rapier stances and parries again. Then she got her first lessons in Eskanar. She¡¯d known it was fairly similar to Friian, but didn¡¯t realize that some of the words were basically the same. She found she picked up the new language¡¯s vocabulary fairly quickly. It was the grammar and the alphabet they used that threw her off, but Selesia was patient and fun to learn from. Selesia started joining Mirian and Lily for dinners.

    She passed her combat certification again, and decided next cycle she would see if she could pass the second certification test on the same day. The 200 level classes that had tormented her a few years back had grown easy. She hadn¡¯t realized how much progress she¡¯d made.

    Then it came time for registration. Her heart leapt at the idea she might see Professor Jei¡¯s name on the list¡ª

    But it was Professor Torres teaching it again.

    Her stomach twisted. She hadn¡¯t been convincing enough. Or, she¡¯d missed something. She¡¯d have to try again.

    At least there will be another try, she thought. In a sense, it was comforting. Her friends and mentors could die¡ªbut she¡¯d see them again. In a sense, it was horrifying. No matter what she did, they would all die gruesome deaths in the end. Atrocities visited on them again and again.

    What would it take to end the cycle and truly save them? Now that she saw the scope of the calamity, she had no idea. To paraphrase Professor Viridian, all she could do now was build a foundation. Understanding might come later.

    She took the same list of classes she had last cycle. She wondered who else in Torrviol was working on the secret project. Obviously, the spies knew all about it. She needed to find out more about who they were, where they met, and how they moved about.

    One of the problems, it seemed, was that she was going to need to remember a lot. Studying at Torrviol, Mirian was no stranger to memorization. But she was going to need to find ways of keeping track of each day, and different people¡¯s movements throughout the day. She would need to expand her expertise in that many more disciplines. She would need to remember to plan ahead for spells and devices she would need. She wondered: is there a time limit? How long will the month repeat?

    There was so much she didn¡¯t know.

    ***

    Mirrian completed the cartography device on the morning of the 10th. That meant she had two days to spare in the passages under Torrviol before the winter quarter began, rather than one evening. And this time, she had a proper mapping device, not just a delving device. She¡¯d bought a nice pocketwatch from the market, too, so that if she heard voices she could mark when she heard them, not just where. The cartography device was, unfortunately, a bit impractical to use. It resembled a small picture frame holding a piece of parchment, with two vertical and two horizontal brass rods crossing its center, each marked with dozens of magical glyphs. On the edges of the top and bottom of the frame, the parchment rolled up like a scroll, allowing the device to roll and unroll more paper as needed, though it only worked in that one direction. A small orb was suspended between the four brass rods, itself also covered with various glyphs. At the base of it, it held a specially designed pen, and that was where the ink reservoir was as well. Mirian could press various glyph switches on it to mark a place of interest. The problem was she had to hold it in place as she walked while channeling mana to make it work.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    The intensive labor that had gone into it also had precluded her from making a spellrod this time. She had her wands from the combat certification and her spellbook, but she was hoping to avoid a fight, because in no way was she ready for one. If someone ambushed her, she would need to place the cartography device on the ground first before getting out a wand since it took both hands to carry it. She didn¡¯t think the Akanan spies would give her a ¡®time out¡¯ before zapping her with lightning.

    Because she wouldn¡¯t be able to have her spellbook out while carrying the mapper, she¡¯d integrated a light spell into the device. This was an innovation Mirian was quite proud of; the blueprints she¡¯d been following hadn¡¯t used it. However, it solved two problems. One, she could see in the tunnels while using it. Two, it got rid of excess mana flow so none of the other instruments would be accidentally overcharged during the operation. This led to a significant decrease in exploding ink bottles and broken pens.

    Naturally, the frame was just a bit too big to fit in her satchel, so she had to hide it under her cloak awkwardly as she walked. This time, Mirian cast a minor disguise spell before heading to the door, just so no one would wonder why a student was entering a lecture hall during the weekend. It took her three tries to remember where the secret switch was. Then she descended, cartography device in hand.

    As she walked, the little pen scribbled away. It was, for all the complications and annoyances, a well-designed device. It detected the step-by-step descent, and marked little rectangles to represent stairs. The pen¡¯s movements were tiny and precise, and so the resulting map was easy to use. Pulses of invisible light that shot out and reflected back told the pen how wide the passages were, and sure enough, when she came to a split, the map knew to draw all the possible passages.

    She¡¯d thought she knew where to go to get to Bainrose, but it turned out the passages seemed to avoid going under the plaza or near the castle. Subtle bends in the tunnels, or repeated zig-zags and turns had made it challenging to orient herself. Now she started to get a better sense of the layout. There were at least three distinct layers she was traversing through. Once, they might have been well connected, but iron grates, collapsed tunnels, and newer construction that blocked off old areas made it more of a maze.

    As she walked, she paused to listen every so often in case someone else was down with her. It was spooky and dark, but so far, it had just been her and the rats.

    The archeology textbooks had mentioned several distinct layers of ruins, and Mirian found her map made it easier to sort through which was which. The top layer was Old Torrviol, distinguished by its use of older bricks that were broader and flatter than the ones used in more modern construction. The foundations of current Torrviol came down into them, often blocking off passages. Sometimes, entire rooms of older buildings were preserved, though they had long since been stripped of anything of value.

    The second layer was a network of brick tunnels that had run under the city. The archaeologists had argued about this in the books. Some thought it was a sewer system. Some thought they were defensive, though why Old Torrviol had needed so many of them wasn¡¯t clear. Most of them were blocked off by something, usually by collapsed earth or iron grates.

    Below that was Ancient Torrviol. This was the city that had once stretched from lake to hill. The construction here used more granite. Once, the stones seemed to have been polished and carved with either art or runes, but time had weathered much of it away. Trickles of water that ran through the ancient structures had eroded some areas, collapsed others, and created streaks of calcite and other minerals.

    What the layers all shared was a stale, rankling smell, a mixture of rat nests, mold, and who knew what else.

    It took her some time to re-find the strange door she¡¯d encountered before, but she finally did. It was still there, and still very much closed. Contrary to what she¡¯d thought, the door wasn¡¯t adjacent to Bainrose, but to the plaza in front of it.

    This time, Mirian had come prepared with a few divination spells. She started with image room, one of the spells she¡¯d needed to integrate into the cartography device. This version, though, had a mental component. She cast it at the keyhole, and then closed her eyes as the spell brought images of the room beyond into her mind.

    The spell wasn¡¯t a perfect visual. Instead, it reminded her of looking through a foggy mirror, where she could just make out certain features, but others were strange or distorted. What she saw, she couldn¡¯t quite understand. It seemed that the floor of the room¡­ just stopped. Like there was a giant pit just ten feet beyond the keyhole, and the walls were missing. She stopped channeling the spell and looked at her map. There was nothing preventing the room on the other side of the door from being enormous¡ªthere were no other rooms or passages that prevented that. But it didn¡¯t make sense. There obviously couldn¡¯t be a giant pit underneath the main plaza or the plaza would collapse. And why was this door newer than the others? The stone seemed to be the same type used in the ancient city, but the door and glyphs were all new.

    She tried another divination spell, sense enchantment. Sure enough, someone had layered various enchantments in the stone. Mirian was nowhere near experienced enough to say anything more than that. Apparently, diviners of some skill could say more about the type of enchantment, the amount of mana used, and more about the flow patterns. Just another thing she needed to practice.

    The next spell she cast was date rock (which they¡¯d all joked about in class), a spell she¡¯d practiced a few cycles ago in her geology class with Professor Holvatti. She¡¯d had to re-scribe it, of course, but the spell worked on most rocks. Casting it on the granite would give her some ridiculously high number in the millions, because technically, that¡¯s when the stone formed. But casting it on the mortar between the stones should give an age of the construction.

    When she cast it though, the result came up as over 5000 years old, which couldn¡¯t possibly be right. That would make the construction pre-Cataclysm, and while Torrviol had been settled for a long time, she was pretty sure that directly contradicted the history books she¡¯d read for classes. It was far more likely she¡¯d just screwed up the spell somehow, or maybe the close proximity of the granite was interfering. Yeah, that had to be it.

    Mirian cast a few more spells that were supposed to detect common glyphs, aiming at the inside of the keyhole, but the spell just said there were no glyphs. However, when she tried inserting one of the steel lockpicks she¡¯d gotten from the spy¡¯s satchel into the keyhole, it was repulsed by a strong magnetic force. There had to be glyphs in there, but some sort of ward or enchantment was preventing her spell from detecting it.

    Well, that¡¯s that, she thought.

    To say there were undiscovered passages she still hadn¡¯t mapped would have been an understatement. There seemed to be more structures below Torrviol than at the surface. However, her auric mana was nearing depletion, so she chose one more place to visit before she returned to the surface.

    There was a place where a brick wall had collapsed into a lower level so that a two-foot high opening led to a place Mirian couldn¡¯t seem to otherwise find an entrance to. She hadn¡¯t gone down, though, because there was a ten foot drop that she wasn¡¯t sure she could get back up from if she did.

    Mirian returned to the area and knelt down to cast image room. Sure enough, the corridor went in both directions, but she couldn¡¯t see anywhere that it linked up with. Bad idea to go down, then. On a whim, though, she cast sense enchantment. She was surprised when she got a positive result. Crawling forward so she could stick her head out of the hole and look down the corridor, Mirian cast her light spell.

    In the distance, she could make out an old shrine. It took her a moment to interpret which God the shrine was dedicated to. It was Altrukyst, she was pretty sure, but in some Elder form she¡¯d never seen before. Usually, he was depicted with a guide lantern and stars, with chains figuring prominently in older ones. It was only the chains and stars she recognized. On either side of the statue were two black, polished obsidian orbs, each surrounded by a disk of strange metal. The metal had a strange, orange luster she didn¡¯t recognize, though ¡®orange¡¯ wasn¡¯t the right word. It reminded her of bronze, except the light reflecting off it was patchy; some parts were brighter, some darker, as if shadowy clouds ran through the substance. Linking the two orbs was a chain, passing through a screaming mouth in Altruskyt¡¯s torso. The strange bronze-like metal wasn¡¯t returning as enchanted, though.

    In the statue¡¯s hand was a talisman. It appeared silver at this distance, though obviously it wasn¡¯t silver or it would have tarnished long ago. That was what she had detected. She tried casting a lift object spell to get it, but even stranger, there seemed to be some form of spell resistance in the area.

    Another mystery, she cursed. Despite her exploration, she still had no idea where Professor Jei actually went when she went into the underground. And yet, even as it was frustrating, it was exciting. She had the time to solve it.

    She headed back to the surface.

 Chapter 38 - Theories

    The next morning, Mirian went down to the Courier¡¯s office to look for Song Jei¡¯s address. ¡°I¡¯m writing her a thank you card for teaching,¡± she explained to the attendant. Most addresses in Torrviol were a matter of public record, so this wasn¡¯t an unusual request. The government needed to know it for tax collection purposes, while merchants, bankers, and traders often needed to know an address to follow up on a contract (or, in some cases, hire debt collectors or inform the magistrate if a contract had gone sour). Her explanation was more to make sure she didn¡¯t get caught up as a suspect in an investigation. She doubted the guards were looking very hard for Song Jei, but Captain Mandez would have no problem pinning her disappearance on a convenient scapegoat.

    Professor Jei lived in a small apartment south of the belltower, and just east of the Academy crafting stations. This was a good location to scout, because people were allowed up the belltower to view the city. It wasn¡¯t a great view of the city¡ªthe Kiroscent Dome blocked most of the northern view¡ªbut it was across the street and three buildings down from Song Jei¡¯s place. Mirian summited the tower while munching on a pastry from the market, which felt like the least suspicious thing she could do.

    Mirian could just see through the window of the apartment. She was sure it was Professor Jei¡¯s, because she could see a traditional Zhighuan red silk banner hanging by the window, decorated in the gold logograms of their language. A sinuous serpent-like creature overlooked the markings.

    The banner also had a diagonal tear through it.

    Only a bit of reflected sunlight illuminated the inside of the apartment, but she thought she could just make out a piece of broken furniture.

    To confirm her suspicions, Mirian went down an alley, and cast her minor disguise spell. Looking at herself in a pocket mirror, the spell was obviously flawed, with the face she¡¯d created looking a bit uncanny, but she¡¯d brought a cap to supplement her disguise so she put that on. If she¡¯d learned anything in Professor Marva¡¯s class, it was that illusion magic could be enhanced by physical accompaniments. As far as she could tell, Marva had never used an illusion for their clothes, only for their voice, face, and hair.

    Mirian had an envelope in her hand. If anyone asked, her plan was to pretend to be a runner trying to deliver a message. She went past the shop one the ground floor of the building and up the stairs. Sure enough, there was Professor Jei¡¯s door with the correct address on the third floor. The door had two cracks through it where it had clearly been broken, then mended afterward with a spell. And sure enough, there was a warded totem in front of the door, with a notice reading ¡®Area under the protection of the Torrviol guard.¡¯ Messing with that would send an alarm to the guard station, and a very loud alarm. Some drunk students had tried getting into a warded room in the dormitories two years back, and had woken up everyone in the building. The faint glow of the ward confirmed what Mirian had suspected. Professor Jei had listened to her, it just hadn¡¯t been enough. Instead of ambushing her in the tunnels, they¡¯d apparently just kicked in her door and probably abducted or murdered her. Maybe both. After all, with Captain Mandez in charge of the guard and working with the spies, it would be easy to break into any residence in Torrviol. No investigation was ever going to turn up what really happened.

    That worried Mirian. Professor Torres had said Jei¡¯s home was warded, and if Torres had helped with the wards, the spies had smashed through some serious protection. All Mirian had seen were a few wands, but that implied a powerful arcanist must be working with them. Secrecy would have to continue to be her protection.

    Mirian spent the rest of the day with Selesia. They walked through the Mage¡¯s Grove, visited the arena, then just walked around Torrviol. The day was cold but sunny. The markets were bustling with people. Farmers from the surround hawked their produce, while merchants displayed the latest goods to come up from Cairnmouth. It was nice to chat with Selesia about her home city in far away Akana Praediar while enjoying simply existing in this peaceful moment. It was strange, too¡ªit really was peaceful. In just over a week, riots would begin in Palendurio, leylines would erupt along the scrublands, and then the world would end. It seemed impossible for there to be such¡­ normality.

    Selesia saw the melancholy pass over her. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Nothing to worry about,¡± Mirian said. If she told her, it would just cause pain, panic¡ªmaybe an existential crisis or two. And then it would all be erased anyways. She smiled, and hoped it didn¡¯t look too fake.

    ***

    The first week of the second quarter passed quickly enough. Mirian enjoyed her time with her friends as best she could. On the weekend, she went down into the underground to expand her map twice more. The end result was practically illegible because of the ways the passages criss-crossed beneath each other. There was no hope in memorizing the whole thing, so Mirian did her best to get a general sense of it, and then memorize the most useful routes. She was sure other buildings connected to the underground, but hadn¡¯t encountered any staircases leading up. But Professor Jei must have used them. There was something she was missing.

    When she emerged from Griffin Hall that third time, she spotted Valen waiting for her on the bench. ¡°Hey Mirian. Nice disguise spell.¡±

    Mirian groaned. ¡°What do you want?¡±

    ¡°Can a girl not just¡ª?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re obviously following me. What. Do. You. Want?¡±

    Valen squinted at her like she was a moron. ¡°Is it not obvious?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not obvious. Gods I wish you¡¯d leave me alone. What can I say to you that would make you leave me alone?¡±

    Valen drew back as if hurt. ¡°And what have I done to you?¡± she said.

    Mirian raised an eyebrow. ¡°Did you want me to start listing things? Second year, group project, you called me a ¡®scarecrow but with less brains,¡¯ and a ¡®fool without a court,¡¯ which is why I stopped commenting on anything at all for that project. Twice during class, you spilled my own ink on me with a force spell, once when I was doing a presentation, which you know I hate. Yes, I know it was you. Third year, you¡ª¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t really need the list,¡± Valen said. ¡°You¡¯re such a killjoy. Why did you have to be so¡­.¡± She didn¡¯t finish that thought. Instead, she said, ¡°I want to know what you¡¯ve been doing in Griffin Hall. Or I¡¯ll¡­ report you.¡± Valen waggled her eyebrows.

    Mirian sighed and sat down next to Valen on the bench. She was pretty sure the girl was bluffing, but she also didn¡¯t want to risk the Torrviol guard throwing her in jail again. ¡°I¡¯m looking for Professor Jei,¡± she said. ¡°I think the guards helped abduct her. Or kill her.¡±

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    That made Valen jerk back in surprise. ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain why you¡¯re smuggling a picture frame under that cloak of yours.¡±

    Mirian briefly showed her the cartography device, then hid it back under her cloak. ¡°Let me just put it this way, because you won¡¯t believe the real story: there¡¯s a lot you don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Try me,¡± Valen said, and there was an intensity to her gaze that Mirian found surprising.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you on the 1st of Duala,¡± she said. ¡°Until then? Please stop stalking me.¡±

    Mirian departed for the dormitories, leaving Valen behind. For the first time, though, she started considering if she could use Valen¡¯s obsession with her to her advantage somehow. She¡¯d picked up that Valen was following her mostly from context, not from actually catching her. Which was impressive, because when Mirian went to Griffin Hall, she was on the lookout, and she was also constantly keeping watch for more traces of the Akanan spies. Valen was annoying, but she was also pretty stealthy. She also had a keen eye. She¡¯d seen that Akanan spy back in the first loop, and clearly had figured out Mirian was acting odd.

    Maybe she could help Mirian track the Akanan spies. It was something to consider.

    ***

    Mirian continued her classes, and worked on creating a more combat-focused spellrod for her Artifice class. This time, several of the spells were not covered in her combat certification, but it didn¡¯t matter because no one in Torrviol would live long enough to check her project.

    Soon after, Nicolus departed on his midnight train ride. The next day, Mirian started reading newspapers again. She needed to figure out more about the riots in Palendurio, though since all news needed to move along the trains, she probably wouldn¡¯t hear about it for a few days.

    When it came time for her study session in Bainrose with Xipuatl, Mirian was ready. Mirian had arranged to go last in the rotation, so she quickly ran through the third textbook with him. Then, she said, ¡°Hey, you¡¯ve talked a lot about how the arcane theorems we use are incomplete. What¡¯s an example of that?¡±

    Xipuatl frowned. ¡°That depends. How, hmm.¡± He paused, looking for the right words. ¡°How zealous are you about the Luminate Order?¡±

    ¡°I go once a week. I¡¯m faithful to the Gods.¡±

    ¡°And what about church doctrine?¡±

    Now she got what he was saying. ¡°I¡¯m not going to sic the church on you for blasphemy. I¡¯m faithful to the Gods,¡± she emphasized.

    Xipuatl was still hesitating, though she could also tell he really did want to talk about it. It was his passion, after all. ¡°It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t trust you, it¡¯s that¡­ well, yeah I guess it¡¯s that. No offense. You¡¯re a great study partner, but that¡¯s different than trust.¡±

    Mirian thought about that, and thought about all the politics Nicolus and Xipuatl had discussed. ¡°What if I give you leverage over me?¡±

    He raised an eyebrow. ¡°And how exactly would you do that?¡±

    ¡°Here,¡± she said, digging out the map of the underground from her bag. She¡¯d removed it from the device frame so she could study it, but now she was sick of studying it anyways. ¡°It¡¯s a map of Torrviol¡¯s underground. I¡¯ve been sneaking into Griffin Hall so I could get down there. Definitely something a student shouldn¡¯t be up to, right? Definitely suspicious and weird, yeah? The kind of thing that might start an investigation.¡±

    ¡°When,¡± Xipuatl said, ¡°did you find the time to do this? You must have had a cartographic device, which they don¡¯t even sell here. Hm. I never suspected you¡¯d surprise me. You don¡¯t strike me as¡­ nefarious.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m nefarious as the five hells,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Okay, maybe not that bad. So tell me¡ªwhat are the theoretical arcane frameworks missing?¡±

    Xipuatl spent a moment looking up and down the map. Then he rolled it up and said, ¡°Soul magic.¡±

    Ohhhhh. That¡¯s why he doesn¡¯t want to say anything. ¡°Necromancy?¡±

    He gave a dramatic sigh. ¡°No, I really don¡¯t mean necromancy, but I can¡¯t explain it without someone immediately jumping there. Tlaxhuaco nagual¡ªthat our word for magic user¡ªconstantly use the soul energy of myrvite plants in a great deal of their magic. It¡¯s not parasitic, like necromantic siphoning. And it¡¯s not like curses, which are designed to damage the soul.¡±

    ¡°You said they had druids in Tlaxhuaco.¡±

    ¡°Nagual are similar to the druids, but different. The druids of yore seem to have used magic to control myrvites, and taken advantage of their natural spells. It might have been soul magic, maybe. Most of the surviving texts about that were written by non-experts either observing druids or hearing about them second or third-hand, so I can¡¯t say exactly what they were doing. Pity they¡¯re all gone. You can thank the Luminate Order for that.¡±

    Mirian bit her tongue. The Luminate Order did have something of a dark history, but they¡¯d moved beyond that, right? Still, she could see why Xipuatl would be cautious. All forms of soul magic were, by law, considered necromancy. She could also see why Xipuatl would immediately hate an organization that considered his nation¡¯s traditional magic inherently blasphemous. If had been the first cycle, Mirian might have ended the conversation there. No one much wanted to be accused of heresy for discussing necromancy with a bit too much interest. But now, Mirian could take risks. The worst punishment they could dish out would last about six more days at most.

    ¡°So why is soul magic important here?¡± Mirian finally asked.

    ¡°Incomplete energy equations, for one. Has Professor Endresen talked about that yet? I took her class last quarter.¡±

    ¡°Huh. She has. Is that where you think the energy in a spell with a mental component goes?¡±

    ¡°Of course it is! Your mind is part of you as much as your soul is. The spell has to interface with your soul. It explains the inefficiency, too¡ªyou have to overcome your own spell resistance. Not as extreme as overcoming someone else¡¯s because you¡¯re subconsciously attuned to it, but it explains the missing energy.¡±

    ¡°That implies a transformation from arcane energy to celestial energy, which has never been documented. Because it¡¯s impossible,¡± Mirian said. She was getting extremely skeptical of Xipuatl¡¯s claims. He really did have a totally different conception of the theoretical frameworks of magic.

    ¡°Celestial energy¡­ I don¡¯t know where that term came from. Why do the Luminates distinguish between necromantic, soul, and celestial energies? Soul energy has phase-changes just like arcane energy does, but it doesn¡¯t just have three, and it certainly doesn¡¯t have them where the church says they do.¡±

    Mirian tried to wrap her head around what he was saying. If Xipuatl was correct, then the Luminate Order was lying. And why would they lie about something that big? ¡°You¡¯re saying this is all measurable. But the best research wizards can¡¯t measure¡ª¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re missing half the glyphs. The runic symbols¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªthe holy language of the church? Wait, does Tlaxhuaco know them? Does Tlaxhuaco use them?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve said too much,¡± Xipuatl said. ¡°You understand why I can¡¯t talk to anyone about this? You¡¯ve spent your whole life hearing I¡¯m full of shit, and there¡¯s nothing I can say that changes a lifetime of indoctrination. That¡¯s why I need overwhelming evidence.¡± He shrugged. ¡°You¡¯ve taken it better than most, though. At least your brain was still working for most of the conversation. Some people just go straight to trying to punch me.¡±

    He was right, Mirian absolutely didn¡¯t believe him. The blessings of the Gods were indeed a form of energy, since they acted on the world, but they couldn¡¯t be measured, and they certainly had nothing to do with necromancy. But the logic of mental components of spells interfacing with the soul sure made a lot of sense. But then by church definition, any spell with a mental component was necromancy.

    She needed some time to wrap her head around it all. And how would she test anything he¡¯d just said?

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, as Xipuatl turned to leave. ¡°I just¡­ I need time to think. It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s a lot,¡± she said.

    ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t mention it,¡± he said. ¡°Literally. Or I¡¯ll sic the wrath of the Yanez family on you.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I can keep a secret,¡± she said. As the door to the study room closed, she muttered to herself, ¡°We¡¯re all dead in a few days anyways.¡±

    She kept thinking as she brought the textbooks back to the return cart. She¡¯d always been interested in the divine blessings of the Gods. Less so the Luminate Order and its rituals and studies of the prophets¡ªthat felt too much like history to her¡ªbut the healing magic had always fascinated her. Could she learn it? Join the Luminate Order for a cycle? For so long, she had been constrained by what seemed to be her fate, which was to spend all her energy studying artifice so she could support her family. Now, the thread of fate was cut. She could be anything, if only for a month.

 Chapter 39 - Investigations

    Fifthday, Mirian decided to finally figure out what happened to Platus. She woke up early enough to annoy Lily, but just mentioned she needed to do some ¡®extra studying.¡¯ It was a good excuse, and Lily just went back to sleep. Then she headed for the Alchemistry building.

    It was unlocked, though it shouldn¡¯t have been. Mirian had finally completed her newest version of the spellrod the day before, so she drew it from her belt and prepared the force shield setting. She still wondered what it was Platus had uncovered that led to him getting killed. What secret had he stumbled on?

    Mirian cautiously made her way up the stairs, careful not to step too loud. Every so often she paused to listen, but didn¡¯t hear anything. By the time she made her way to the third floor, she finally did hear noise¡ªthe tinkle of glassware and the low hum of a spell engine. She looked back and forth down the hall. Dark and empty, as far as she could tell. She didn¡¯t think any of the Akanan agents were on the level of using camouflage spells, not if they were relying on wands.

    She tip-toed toward the open door of room 312. There were only a few minutes left until the explosion. Maybe someone was already in there with him? Mirian peeked around the corner.

    Sure enough, there was Platus, all six hulking feet of him, bent over one of the alchemy counters. One of the supply cupboards was open, the lock on it hanging off, broken, the contents emptied. Platus had arrayed a large array of various chemicals and magichemicals in front of him. He¡¯d scattered jars and measuring utensils across the counter, and was now focused on stirring something in one of the large glass beakers. A small spell engine for heating chemicals was on, and something was boiling in it. He was so focused on his project that he didn¡¯t seem to notice Mirian peering in.

    She double-checked. No one down the hall. No one else in the room. What was she missing? And what was Platus making anyways? She squinted at the jars on the counter, and her eyes widened. Oh five hells, she thought.

    ¡°Platus! What are you doing?¡±

    He started, then shouted right back at her. ¡°Burning hells, what are you doing? Go away before I hurt you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re about to create a nitromyruenide, and you don¡¯t have a containment field. Gods above, is that how it happens? You just blow yourself up? Are you suicidal?¡±

    Platus went red in the face. He¡¯d always had a short temper. ¡°You¡¯re all jealous of me! Trying to hold back my greatness. It won¡¯t work! Now get out of here. This is my discovery.¡±

    ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t really give a shit about you one way or another. Who told you to mix those? You¡¯re about to create a room-sized fireball, and I guarantee you won¡¯t survive it. Did you break into the Alchemistry building just to make an explosive?¡±

    ¡°I gave you a chance,¡± Platus said, and then he drew his wand.

    Mirian didn¡¯t know what the wand did, so she ducked around the corner and cast her force shield.

    The explosion slammed into it within seconds, the fireball erupting from the door. Her force shield broke, and she went sprawling. She ran for the stairs, because the heat pouring out of the room was far too intense to stay close to.

    Now she knew what kind of wand he was using, though. He¡¯d used a flame spell¡ªright next to an entire pile of extremely volatile chemicals. She couldn¡¯t believe it. Was his death really unrelated to the conspiracy? There had to be more to it. Had someone convinced him to make whatever harebrained recipe he was brewing? Maybe the Akana spies had told him to do it as a distraction while they infiltrated some critical place. Or maybe Platus had really just been that stupid.

    Mirian cast her disguise spell, then left through one of the side doors. She didn¡¯t want to deal with a bunch of questions from anyone. When she got to class, she thought about the first time it had happened. She¡¯d been so distraught. A student had died, in front of her, and it had haunted her for days. Now, it just seemed like a piece of trivia. She wasn¡¯t sure she liked the change in perspective. But if the Gods had sentenced her to see so much death, again and again, it seemed an inevitable consequence of her fate.

    ***

    That evening, she and Selesia took a walk down by the market again after classes. Platus¡¯s death came up¡ªhow could it not?¡ªbut Mirian changed the topic after only a brief discussion. She didn¡¯t want to dwell on it. They mostly talked about school, since that was what consumed most of their time. Since Selesia was training to be a mage generalist, Mirian could only offer her advice on half her classes.

    Midway through the conversation, Mirian started to say, ¡°In two years, you¡¯ll look back at your classes and¡­¡± and then she paused. It was one thing to know there wouldn¡¯t be ¡®two years from now¡¯ for Selesia, and another to internalize it. She swallowed hard. ¡°¡ªand realize they were easier than you remember. Sorry, had something in my throat.¡±

    Selesia didn¡¯t seem to notice. ¡°Ugh, you can¡¯t tell me the classes get even harder Mirian! How do you even remember it all?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to memorize every glyph, but it helps. Understanding theory also goes a long way.¡±

    ¡°But the theory doesn¡¯t make sense! It¡¯s incomplete,¡± she said, and Mirian remembered she was part of the Takoa people, not just Akanan. More closely connected to Xipuatl¡¯s people than to the colonists that had left Baracuel¡¯s shores those centuries earlier. She wondered if they had similar views on soul magic. ¡°What do the Takoa think of the¡­ right, they don¡¯t have the Luminates over in Akana. What is it¡­ the Church of the Ominian?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Uh, probably best not to talk about it in public,¡± Selesia said in a low voice. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ well, there was really bad blood between the church and the Takoa. Several nasty wars before Akana¡¯s constitution came into effect and gave the Takoa some protection from the zealots. There¡¯s still a bunch of church leaders who think that part of the constitution should be repealed, so it¡¯s something of a hot political issue. Not that there¡¯s many people here who think that, but even though they like to brand each other heretics, the two churches are pretty similar in how they feel about everyone else.¡±

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°Gotcha, yeah.¡±

    ¡°You seem pretty open minded, though,¡± Selesia said hopefully.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said with a smile. ¡°Hey, one sec, gonna pick up a newspaper. I¡¯m trying to be a little less ignorant about the world.¡± When she got to the printer¡¯s stand, though, it was just the Torrviol Broadsheet for sale. ¡°What happened to the other papers?¡± she asked.

    The woman shrugged. ¡°Morning train didn¡¯t stop by. Trouble down the track is the rumor, but nothing too bad. Maybe we¡¯ll have two papers tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°Ah, thanks,¡± Mirian said, but was thinking I bet the smaller magical eruptions we saw have something to do with that.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Selesia asked her. ¡°You got this distant look in your eyes.¡±

    Mirian gave her a smile she hoped wasn¡¯t said. ¡°Ah, sorry. I¡­ miss my little brother,¡± she said. That wasn¡¯t the complete truth, but it was true. It had been nearly a year since she¡¯d seen Zayd, and he was cute as ever. Her parents had told her he was reading books already, and was just as inquisitive as his big sister.

    ¡°Tell me about him,¡± Selesia said.

    So she did. He¡¯d been four when she¡¯d visited last, and a right terror. He was far too cute to stay mad at, though she had to hide her stuff on the top shelf or he¡¯d get into it. The reason she¡¯d been out of baduka boar scriber¡¯s ink was because he¡¯d gotten into it, and dumped the whole bottle out. By the time they¡¯d caught him, the ink had either stained the floor boards or his clothes, and the reassemble liquid spell was inadequate to reverse the damage. But when he¡¯d seen how mad she was, he¡¯d hung his head and given the cutest ¡®sorry¡¯ she¡¯d ever heard, so she couldn¡¯t stay angry at him. Mirian told her other stories too. She talked to Lily about him, too, but she found she didn¡¯t mind repeating herself. Little Zayd. When will I see you again?

    ***

    Mirian spent most of the weekend practicing her spellwork. Once again, she was annoyed that she would spend a great deal of time scribing spells, only to have all that progress wiped away in a few days. Still, it was necessary. There was no replacement for practice.

    She stopped by the market and the train station each day for news. On Firstday, she checked with the staff on the train platform, whose job at the moment was to stand around and tell increasingly agitated people that, no, the train still wasn¡¯t here.

    ¡°Still delayed,¡± one of the conductors, a man with a short goatee and a bit of gray in his dark hair told her. ¡°There¡¯s been no news of why, but that probably means a break in the track. Maybe they sent a sending spell or a messenger bird over, but I haven¡¯t seen it.¡±

    Mirian tapped her chin. ¡°Maybe someone needed to commandeer the train for an emergency? Who do they tell if that happens?¡±

    ¡°I doubt it,¡± the conductor said. ¡°The message would go straight to the city guard so they could prepare, and the city guard would alert us. The emergency law predates trains, it used to be used all the time when there were myrvite incursions.¡±

    ¡°Would the couriers get a message?¡±

    ¡°I suppose they would hear about it too. And we haven¡¯t heard anything from either, so it¡¯s probably just a break and the signal lights got screwed up by some bad weather.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she told him. There was another small piece of the puzzle assembled. By now, Akanan forces had probably landed on Baracuel¡¯s shores, or there¡¯d be no way for them to make it to Torrviol in time. So the army probably had already dispatched the division for protection, but they would never make it in time if it was a magical eruption causing damage to the track. The Baracuel army would always arrive at the last minute, unless it was sent before the crisis. But getting the Baracuel army sent before the crisis wasn¡¯t going to happen because no one would believe the Akanas would attack until whatever happened in Palendurio happened¡ªwhich no one in Torrviol would hear about except Nicolus. Not that it did him much good. Likely, the leyline eruption had already killed him.

    To compound it, no one in Torrviol would be prepared for the Akanans or the Baracuel army¡¯s deployment because the message the guards were supposed to distribute was getting suppressed. That did leave one last avenue¡ªthe Royal Couriers. They should be distributing a message, but they weren¡¯t. Maybe the magical eruptions scared off the messenger birds. The guards have no jurisdiction over the couriers, so that must be it.

    The next thing Mirian wanted to know was when the spellwards failed. The long magical barriers were connected by ward totems that ringed Torrviol and the surrounding farms, but the spell engines that powered the barrier were in three short stone towers. In the old times, scouts would be posted at each tower to act as lookouts for myrvites or bandits, but these days, most towns hired two or three magi on a temporary basis to walk a ring around the barrier every few days and make sure the wards were intact and the spell engines were properly fueled with fossilized myrvite. The train delays shouldn¡¯t have caused the problem; all the towers were stocked with at least a month¡¯s worth of the magical stone for just such a reason.

    Mirian walked across the fields, which were bare except for a few weeds as they waited for winter to pass. Here and there, birds flitted about, searching the soil for bugs or seeds, she wasn¡¯t sure. A few waited in the groves of cherry and elderberry trees, feathers all puffed up in the cold. Other than that, there wasn¡¯t much movement. The clouds hung motionless, and as she walked further from town, the city seemed to still. Looking back, she could admire the time that was put into each building, and how even from afar the buildings had a liveliness to them. The skyline was completed by Torrian Tower, Bainrose castle, and the Kiroscent Dome, each solid anchors that rose above the other buildings. Thousands of years of history, the homes of generations, soon to be annihilated.

    The stone watchtower was a stubby little thing, only two stories high, and these days the nearby trees were taller than it. Normally, there was a familiar prickle of mana flowing through the air when a spell engine was running, especially a large one. It had already failed, though. Had no one noticed? And why? Torrviol was lucky they hadn¡¯t had a myrvite attack. Sure, the patrols up north kept the beasts of the frostlands from descending, but that didn¡¯t mean no myrvites, just less myrvites, as the frost scarabites nesting south of here proved.

    She made a mental note to check earlier in the cycle next time. At this point, it was impossible to say if it was sabotage, poor maintenance, or something else. There was no going in to see how or why, though. Each tower had a reinforced oak door with a thick steel portcullis, and the doors were kept locked when the tower wasn¡¯t being serviced.

    Either way, the damage had already been done. What made the most sense to her was that someone sabotaged the south spellward barrier so the town¡¯s attention was there, and not northwest where the attack would come form. But as she hiked around the hills behind the dormitory, she found the second tower¡¯s spell engine also dead. Maybe it¡¯s connected to the magical eruptions? The spellwards in the south scrublands had also failed.

    Mirian headed back to her dorm. Two more days of classes and some normality. Then in the evening, the world would end again.

 Chapter 40 - Death

    The last cycle, Mirian had missed several days of classes because of her early departure. This time, Professor Marva had given her some valuable tips on the mental component of an illusion spell. It wasn¡¯t just the spell itself you could practice, you could also practice rehearsing the image or sound you wanted to produce. Some people with poor visualization capabilities found it easier to have a small painting to sketch to look at. On one hand, it could be a problem if you used the same disguise over and over again, but it was interesting to learn that practicing art or music could enhance the quality of illusions.

    Professor Runer, on the other hand, hadn¡¯t said much that Mirian hadn¡¯t already picked up in her independent studies. It was certainly useful to practice all the different kinds of spells she might encounter, but the class was too focused on the basics. That made sense for a 200-level class where she was one of the few sixth years. She resolved to get her second combat certification level next cycle, though, and see what Professor Cassius had to say in a 300-level class.

    Two cycles ago, Mirian had seen one of the Akanan spies atop Bainrose. Her newest spellrod was designed purely for combat, and though it still had too narrow a focus, it had a wide array of force spells and a grounding spell that would deal with the lightning wands she knew the spies liked to use.

    After classes, she told Lily she was heading to Bainrose to study.

    ¡°Again?¡± Lily said. ¡°You¡¯ve been really busy lately.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. See you tonight,¡± Mirian lied.

    She couldn¡¯t bear to say goodbyes. She just didn¡¯t want to know. If she didn¡¯t know, she could imagine they met peaceful ends.

    Mirian got an early dinner from the dining hall by annoying one of the cooks for something quick. There was no way she was going to miss dinner again. That always made her miserable when the next cycle started. Then she went to the front door. It shouldn¡¯t have been locked so early, but it was.

    ¡°Library¡¯s closed,¡± the guard said.

    ¡°I need to study,¡± she said piteously.

    He shrugged. ¡°Study tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°But the test is tomorrow!¡±

    ¡°Sorry,¡± the guard said, not sounding sorry at all.

    ¡°Why is the library closed? It¡¯s not supposed to close. I know the door locks after eight, but even then we¡¯re allowed to come in. So what¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°Dunno. Just following orders.¡±

    ¡°Whose orders?¡±

    ¡°Captain¡¯s.¡±

    ¡°Captain Mandez? He must have said something about why. Also, isn¡¯t it up to the Academy when the buildings are open?¡±

    ¡°Captain gives orders, I follow them. Law¡¯s the law. Hurry along now.¡±

    Mirian sighed. She could definitely keep annoying him, but even though the world would end soon, she didn¡¯t think fighting him and trying to break open the door would go well for her. She walked away, then when she was out of sight from the guard, she doubled back and headed around the side of Bainrose.

    She stared up at the museum tower with a look of determination. It was about ten feet up until the start of the old lavatory shaft. She cracked her knuckles, then went to go find something to stand on.

    The cafeteria held the answer. The back of it was absolutely full of empty crates. They were there for when the Academy wanted to reuse them to ship something back down by train¡ªeventually, they¡¯d probably be full of the magical artifacts and spell engines the Torrviol spellforges produced¡ªbut until then, they were relatively light and sturdy enough to stand on. And easy to steal.

    In the distance, Mirian heard the loud echo of thunder. The fighting had begun. She wondered what the hell they were firing at. The Baracuel military would only just be unloading by train now, and none of them were in the western edge of the city where the shells were landing. Maybe the Akanans had overestimated the readiness of the military response? Or did they just want to slaughter civilians? If it was the latter, how had the soldiers turned so fast from comrades at arms with Baracuel to bloodthirsty opponents?

    Questions for another time. Mirian hoisted one of the crates on her shoulder, then used the enhanced lift object spell from her spellrod to grab another. She hurried back to Bainrose, circling around the back again so the guard wouldn¡¯t see her, though it was possible he¡¯d fled because of the fighting. The castle wall was slightly sloped at the bottom precisely to prevent the kind of shenanigans she was attempting, but the castle side was no longer smooth. Once she was high enough, she could jump over and grab some thin looking handholds where the stone jutted out slightly and the mortar had eroded. She stacked the crates on top of each other. The ground was uneven, so it was a wobbly structure, but there wasn¡¯t time to figure out anything else.

    The crack of gunfire erupted west of her, as did the shouting and screaming that came with it. She could see some of the flashes. Mirian missed her first attempt, scraping her fingernails and sending her satchel into the mud. The damn thing was unbalancing her. She rifled through it to grab the glyphkeys¡ªmaybe one of them worked on the doors here?¡ªthen tossed everything else aside. At least she didn¡¯t have to worry about her spellbook or notes. They¡¯d both be back when she died. For now, the spellrod would have to do.

    As she was balancing on the crates again, an artillery shot smashed into one of the buildings south of Bainrose, sending a shockwave that knocked Mirian and the crates over. Shit. She had to hurry. The Akanans would advance rapidly from the hills to the perimeter, and she was running out of time. She stacked the crates one more time, carefully climbed up so they wouldn¡¯t topple, then leapt.

    Her fingers dug into the rough stone, but she had a grip! She hoisted foot up so she could stand on the stone and reach up for the latrine¡¯s chimney. Hasn¡¯t been used in a hundred years, she reassured herself. With one hand pressed against the far side of the chimney and her feet on the stone below, she was able to leverage herself into the chimney. Once she was in, it was easy climbing¡ªshe just braced her back against one side and her hands and feet against the other. It was slow going, and she started to cramp slightly, but her wiry frame easily fit.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    When she got to the top, she had to heave against the wooden cover over the latrine. It rattled, but it didn¡¯t open. Damn, it¡¯s latched, she realized. Carefully, she steadied herself and reached for her spellrod. Fortunately, it was already configured for lift object so she didn¡¯t have to fiddle with the dials in the dark while bracing herself. She channeled, and the lid burst open. Hopefully, all the artillery and gunfire had masked the sound of wood splintering and metal clattering.

    Mirian groaned as she emerged from the latrine shaft and immediately dusted herself off. Chunks of long-dried something fell down. Crumbling mortar, she decided. The alternative was way too gross to consider. She stretched, working out a kink from her back. In this cycle, she¡¯d never told the guards some tall tale, so the museum tower door was unlocked.

    She crept over to the walkway-balconies that overlooked the first floor, changing her spellrod¡¯s setting to force shield as she did. Bainrose was empty. No librarian. No students. She heard the next explosion clearly, even through the stone walls of the castle. The floor shook hard, then there was another cacophony and the place kept shaking. That had to have been Torrian Tower getting hit. With the first and second floors apparently deserted, it was decision time. In the second cycle, the spy had gone to the roof of Bainrose. But there¡¯d been a lot of disruptions to that cycle, and they¡¯d been watching Torrviol¡¯s evacuation. Still, she didn¡¯t remember Bainrose getting hit, and clearly, the spies had arranged for the castle to be deserted and locked up, probably so they didn¡¯t have to deal with the one building in Torrviol that could withstand a prolonged artillery barrage. My history teacher would be so proud, she mused. And she¡¯d had the temerity to ask him why they had to study stupid war stuff involving cannons. When am I ever going to need to know that? she¡¯d said.

    She decided to head up. The third and fourth floors were where secure and rare materials were stored, and therefore off-limits to students. She headed up the northwest tower¡¯s spiral staircase, ready to try her glyphkeys.

    But when she got to the top, the door was open. So was the fourth-floor door. Well, someone was definitely here, and they clearly didn¡¯t think they needed to worry about locking the doors anymore. At the top of the fourth floor landing, she climbed up the old steel ladder, quietly opening the trap door. She¡¯d never been on the battlements of Bainrose before. It was rather exciting.

    She peeked her head out. No one on the northwest tower turret. It didn¡¯t look like anyone was on the nearby parapets, either. Mirian kept close to the battlements of the tower so she didn¡¯t form an obvious silhouette and looked around.

    Light flashed all around Torrviol as spellfire shells rained down. Chain lightning erupted from craters, fireballs flattened roofs, and everywhere, people were running and screaming. The Akanans were coming across the fields, with their western flank cutting through the northern dormitories and the hills. That group was moving slowly, because, as she could see, the soldiers were busy shooting the fleeing students. She felt sick watching it, her stomach twisting into a knot of disgust and rage. In the more open areas, she could see the Akanans advancing as squads of soldiers, each with a support vehicle trundling along, usually with some sort of gun attached. In the back, the artillery were just in front of the treeline, their positions obvious because of the bright flash that erupted when they fired. There were so many of them. How many did Xipuatl say were in an army? Twenty thousand? They outnumbered the population of Torrviol. What chance will we ever have?

    The center of the Akanan army was pushing fast into the city, while a large group of them seemed to be breaking off to go around to the north. Mirian wracked her brain for the terms that book on battles had used. Is that¡­ an encirclement? It¡¯s not making a circle, though. She couldn¡¯t make out what the Baracuel army was doing. Well, panicking, certainly, and firing on civilians too for some damn reason.

    Mirian crept from the tower across the parapet. The northeast tower was empty, but sure enough, there was one of the Akanan spies, looking out from the southeast tower. Right. Obviously. He was watching the Baracuel army assemble. And he had a wand in his hand. Probably some sort of communication spell. Sending, maybe? Or some spell she¡¯d never heard of. Well. His back was turned to her. Now was her chance.

    She readied force push. That should knock the combat wand or gun he pulled out of his hands. She snuck closer to him until she was a dozen feet away. She pointed her scepter at him and said, ¡°Hands up! Don¡¯t move!¡±

    The spy immediately whirled around, then reached into his jacket.

    Mirian channeled.

    The blast of force slammed into the spy. The wand he¡¯d been reaching for went tumbling, but so did he, smashing into the lower part of the battlement and then over the edge. With a short scream, he fell, but the scream was drowned out by the sound of gunfire. She didn¡¯t hear him land.

    Shit, she thought. She¡¯d killed him. Actually killed someone. Gods, that felt strange. Mirian had only meant to disarm him, but he¡¯d reached for¡ªwell, it was self defense, wasn¡¯t it? And his death wouldn¡¯t last, anyways. But she didn¡¯t like the feeling that was roiling in her gut, this weird sense of guilt and horror and¡ªand satisfaction. After all, these were the people who had killed her friends. Had killed her. Didn¡¯t they deserve to die?

    All around her, the Akanans were slaughtering people like animals. She didn¡¯t think the Akanans deserved mercy, but¡­ it didn¡¯t feel right for her to kill someone. Mirian watched¡ªuntil she couldn¡¯t anymore, then tore her gaze away, feeling revulsion twisting through her. And hate. She hated them for what they were doing.

    Mirian walked back to the northwest tower and descended, this time heading for the second basement level. She opened the door carefully, slowly, then looked around. She couldn¡¯t see anyone. She headed for the secret door to the third basement level to see if it was open.

    As she was walking through the bookcases, though, she heard the rumble of stone, then soldiers speaking Eskanar. She couldn¡¯t understand them; the words came too fast, and her vocabulary was still dismal, but she thought she heard the words, ¡°out¡± and ¡°search.¡±

    Mirian cursed to herself, then turned the spellrod to force blades. Of course the Akanans would send a group to secure Bainrose. And of course they wouldn¡¯t need to use the front door¡ªthe spies had been busy mapping all the secret passages, and using seekerstones to track all the professors to find any that were in use that they¡¯d missed. Five hells, they could pop up from underground amidst the Baracuel army¡ªthey wouldn¡¯t have even needed an airship! There was just no chance of a defense. None of this spoke to a last minute attack. How long had they been planning this for?

    She heard the Akanan word for ¡°door¡± next as she crept around one of the bookshelves, then she heard soldiers approaching from another direction as well. Mirian looked around. Unless there was a secret passage right next to her, she was surrounded.

    Through the books, she could see the blue and white of the soldiers moving.

    She was trying to creep behind a shelf when one of the soldiers she hadn¡¯t noticed abruptly turned a corner and spotted her. He shouted a warning then raised his rifle. Mirian cast her force blades, but the spell came out incredibly weak. The blades tore holes in his uniform, but only gave him shallow cuts. Fuck, the auramancers, she remembered. How was she even supposed to deal with them?

    The soldier raised his rifle.

    The last thing she remembered was just how loud the rifle sounded, echoing about in the library, and just how sharp the pain was, before she died again.

 Chapter 41 - Seeker

    Mirian jerked up from her bed with a very short scream, then quietly muttered curses to herself while holding her head in her hands. Seeing that she¡¯d woken Lily, she said, ¡°Sorry, nightmare. Also, just remembered I have to do something, be right back.¡± As if to punctuate her sentence, a drop of water plopped on her forehead.

    She had tried not to shout, it was just that getting shot was painful. Even though the wound was gone by the time she woke, the primitive part of her brain didn¡¯t understand, it just understood lots of pain, must act.

    When she came back downstairs, Lily said, ¡°Mirian, why is their a hole in the ceiling, and how is there a hole in the ceiling, and did I see it going up to the roof before you covered it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, I don¡¯t know, and yes, but don¡¯t worry I¡¯ll fix it after classes. Exams today, gotta go. You¡¯re the best though,¡± she said, and quickly changed and left.

    The month had started again, and Mirian continued to act as if this was going to be a long term thing. There was no other way to act¡ªthe Gods damned moon was going to come down, so planning for any other future was pointless. What was up with that, anyways? It all seemed far too big to even think about that part. She had to focus on the little things she could control.

    The acceptance that she was in this loop for good had given her an idea. After stealing the scroll satchel from the first spy and meeting Nicolus again, Mirian skipped ecology so that she could go buy a pocket watch and stand at the base of the Myrvite Studies staircase and wait for spy two to make an appearance. She already knew he¡¯d be taking the stairs because she¡¯d hear him come up them.

    Sure enough, she saw dark cloak number two approaching through the gardens east of the building. She mentally marked the part of the walkway where she¡¯d first seen him and the time. She¡¯d stand there next time. He approached with his cowl down so it was hard to get a look at his features.

    ¡°Hey,¡± she said in Eskanar (which was one of the few words she now knew) as he walked by her into the building. That caused him to start and look up, and she got a good look at his face, though he quickly lowed his head again and rushed by her without speaking. Mirian sketched down what she had seen in her journal as best she could, making notes about the shade of blue his eyes were, a few of the freckles on his pale face, and the way his hair was styled under the hood.

    She finished her exam early in Enchantments again, enjoying the baffled look of Professor Eld once again as she did. This gave her a few minutes to improve on her absolutely awful artifice project just before her presentation. Gods, what an embarrassing piece of work. She wondered how many more times she¡¯d need to present it. Passing Artifice Design was required for three of the classes she still wanted to take next quarter, though. After that, she told Torres the story about the leak and absconded to go visit the scrap piles by the crafting stations and open her bank account again. She stocked up on supplies, then found a quiet place to start copying down the designs of the glyphkeys. The glyphs they used were incredibly tiny and made using specialized equipment that wasn¡¯t sold in public markets, but eventually, she might find a way to copy them. She also risked getting out the seeker-stone so she could quickly copy down the glyphs it was using.

    It turned out ¡®quickly copy down the glyphs¡¯ wasn¡¯t going to work. Some of the glyphs were inside the device; she¡¯d need to spend more time with it later. Examining the stone, she wondered how the spies had gotten them. They obviously hadn¡¯t made them. These would require the same kind of specialized equipment as the glyphkeys. Was there a supplier she could track down? Torrviol made a lot of magical items for its small size, but she was pretty sure it was illegal to make anything like this. Maybe she could track down these ¡®syndicates¡¯ that everyone kept yammering on about. Mirian had been an embarrassingly old age when she¡¯d finally learned the ¡®black market¡¯ was not a physical place where thieves hung out to sell things, and had no idea how to do this.

    In math, she took notes again. She had started drawing little diagrams for herself that represented the truth path of different mana conduits. She thought she might be able to start applying the new theories to some of her designs. Actually, now that she knew that Torres and Jei were working together, they were almost certainly doing just that. Mirian resolved to talk to Torres about the design implications for artifice when she got a chance.

    After meeting with Nicolus, she finished repairs on the hole, chatted with Lily, then told Lily she was going for a walk, which was sort of true. She implied to her she was going to the Mage¡¯s Grove, but instead, she wandered Torrviol looking for any other spy activity. She walked quietly, cloak on and hood up, sticking to the side of the streets where she was less obvious at a quick glance. Plenty of people moved about at this hour, but she was on the lookout for any more of the break-ins to the academic buildings. She turned up nothing, but the misting rain and peaceful streets gave her time to clear her head.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Day two, she met Selesia. It was hard not to smile and move too quickly. She yearned to hold her hand again, to experience that irreplaceable warmth of connection. It stung to have to rebuild it from scratch, again, but at least she could return to it.

    She decided against heading into Bainrose for the night. She was pretty sure the third spy would be coming through one of the passages the soldiers had used. She also didn¡¯t want to risk losing to him in a fight and being trapped down there. She was also pretty sure the northern portion of the underground wasn¡¯t connected to the other parts directly beneath Torrviol. What she needed was a way to map that too.

    Over the weekend, Mirian continued her independent studies of divination spells. She scribed reveal iron, which contrary to the name, actually just sensed all magnetic metals. It then created a faint blue glow along the path of the metal. That should allow her not just to find the steel mechanisms of hidden levers, but what path they took behind the wall, and therefore, where the switches were.

    Next she scribed detect aura and detect passage, each which seemed promising, though the latter had the same problem as the cave-detection spell, and the former a radius that was a bit small. Her other project, though, was creating her own seeker-stone. Reading up on them, they were more complicated than she¡¯d initially thought. Some seeker-stones were designed to be generically findable, which was mostly useful for expeditions, couriers, or Labyrinth delvers who might get lost in some dangerous area. These were the ones designed to reflect certain light frequencies. The kind the spies were using were not the usual kind.

    For spycraft, she needed to make something she could detect, but others couldn¡¯t. The one she¡¯d taken off the spy used something called a glyphic bridge, something they hadn¡¯t covered in any of her classes. A specific sequence of flux glyphs in the middle of the spell could cancel each other out in effect, but still be uniquely detectable by a device that used the same sequence. Apparently, the first telegraphs had tried to use these, but the linking of the two items only worked over short distances. This appeared to be what the Akanans were using, though the books she could find on the subject were sparse, stating that most of the research was done ¡°by spy agencies, who then kept their results secret for obvious reasons.¡± The ones the Akanans were using probably were much better than what she could make, but like the glyphkeys, the glyphs they¡¯d scribed were too tiny for her to replicate, and the stone was actually two stones cemented together, with the main glyph sequence inside the stone. Breaking it open broke the glyphs too, as she found out. Oh well, she thought after cracking it open. At least they can¡¯t track the stone anymore.

    Before her math exam on Firstday, Mirian thanked Professor Jei for a wonderful class before slipping her own seeker-stone in her bag. As usual, Jei left early while the proctors took over. Mirian scribbled down answers for a minute before requesting a bathroom break. Once outside, she activated her seeker device, a rough fan-looking thing of brass, wood, and silver wire. Lights along the edge of the fan shape lit up in the direction of the stone.

    The lights pointed her towards Bainrose. She hurried over to the courtyard, and just caught a glimpse of Jei walking into the castle before the lights in the device went dead. Either the thick stone walls were interfering, or the distance had grown too long.

    She stashed her device under her cloak and walked quickly, trying to catch up without looking too suspicious. The guard in the plaza was usually not standing in front of Bainrose¡ªno guard was posted there until night, when the doors locked. Today, he was standing right in front of the barbican. He leaned his halberd against the wall, adjusted his belt, then stood at attention again. It looked like normal behavior¡ªbut maybe not. Was he in charge of signaling when Jei passed? She recognized him as the guard she¡¯d talked to that first cycle, the one who had been totally apathetic. Was he a spy, or just a traitor?

    Mirian walked past him into the library, quickly passing the front desk to duck behind one of the towering shelves. She pulled out the tracking device again. The light in the center blinked faintly, then stopped again. She probably went to the basement already, Mirian decided, and hastened her steps. When she got to the second basement level and pulled out the device again, it was dead. She wondered if she¡¯d jostled lose a part, and traced the silver wires to make sure their connections were intact. Seems good. Maybe there¡¯s too much metal in the walls. Or maybe she has some spell that disables them. But if she did, wouldn¡¯t she have used it on the Akanan seeker-stones?

    She¡¯d lost Professor Jei though, so she reluctantly returned to Griffin Hall. ¡°Sorry,¡± she told the proctor. ¡°Last night¡¯s dinner did not agree with me.¡±

    The proctor sighed. ¡°I really didn¡¯t need to know that.¡±

    Mirian sat back down and resumed her work, though she spent most of her time thinking about the problems in the back half of the exam. When she looked at the first few problems, her mind automatically started thinking about what steps she needed to take to solve them. When she looked at the last problems, there was no mental tool that came to mind. It just looked like there wasn¡¯t enough information. And maybe there isn¡¯t, she realized. It¡¯s using one of the four-dimensional coordinate arrays, but half the information is just¡­ missing? How did she get the first half? And why don¡¯t they know the second? If she could just get Jei to tell her about the secret project¡­.

    But already, her questions for Jei would have to wait for the next cycle. If Professor Jei wasn¡¯t already dead this cycle, she soon would be.

 Chapter 42 - Catacombs

    Mirian returned to Griffin Hall after classes, spellbook in hand, and descended into the underground. Immediately, she cast her new reveal iron spell. Faint glows popped up in places she expected, such as a wrought iron railing on the staircase, but there was nothing notable. She walked a few dozen feet, then tried again. Same result. Then again. Finally, she got to the split in the passages, and this time the spell revealed a long luminous line behind the wall. Just like the switch in Griffin Hall, she thought. Mirian cast detect passage next, which was more mana intensive. There seemed to be a false positive telling her the ceiling was a passage¡ªit obviously wasn¡¯t, but there was probably a building directly above her¡ªwhile the other result was just along where the iron mechanism behind the wall was. A few minutes of study, and Mirian found it. In retrospect, it was obvious¡ªthe brick was more worn down than the others, polished by fingers pushing into it a thousand times. There was a rumble, and a stone wall a few feet away swung open. Mirian felt the elation of success.

    That feeling faded quickly when she realized the passage was another hall that connected, via another secret door, to more of the underground. She wasn¡¯t totally sure, but she thought she recognized this section. Mirian wracked her brain, trying to remember the convoluted layout from the map. What she¡¯d found was a shortcut. But at least she had an answer to where Jei usually went: through passages like these. She just needed to find the ones Jei actually used.

    She found five more hidden doors in the underground. One led through a particularly gristly tunnel; there was the skeleton of a soldier, still clad in rusting armor, sword by their side. Mirian stepped gingerly around it. Probably not the one she was using. After a few hours, she stopped before she disoriented herself and got totally lost. There was no getting around it. She¡¯d need to make that stupid cartography device again, or she was never going to find what she was really looking for.

    ***

    The next day she had no time to craft the device, though, or explore. She dedicated the day to preparing for her combat certification, crafting not just the usual assortment of wands, but the new ones she¡¯d need for the second level. Then the next day were the tests themselves and registration, and by the end of the Mirian was as tired as grave-dirt.

    She¡¯d just barely passed the second certification level. The first level cert hadn¡¯t been a problem, but the second level one was. She was too used to carefully channeling spells, while the instructors wanted much faster reaction times, and more power in each spell. Doing both tests on the same day had almost completely depleted her mana, so she spent some time lying in bed considering the ceiling before setting out to eat her second lunch of the day. There was another issue she had to contend with; everything she was doing demanded mana. Reading textbooks was fine, but real expertise came from practice, and she was practicing a lot. Every glyph she set down and every project she worked on also demanded mana, and come second quarter, her teachers would also be having her cast spells. It had never been a problem for her before, but it was becoming clear she needed to work on her aura.

    ¡°How do you get more mana for the empowered spells?¡± she asked Lily that evening. Mirian had insisted they celebrate their success at the trials by taking them up to one of the rooftop diners by the market square. It was cold, but a little heater by the table kept them warm. Both the view and the fare were excellent. She¡¯d gotten a duck kabab and a rich vegetable soup that both tasted even better than they smelled.

    ¡°Huh, that¡¯s right, you haven¡¯t taken those classes. You¡¯re really trying to take a 300 level combat class? What happened to artifice?¡±

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°Why not both?¡±

    ¡°I mean, I guess. It worked for Professor Torres, didn¡¯t it? There¡¯s a bunch of ways you can go about it, but the research is also mixed because measuring auric mana directly is tough. The soul gets in the way with its spell resistance. People can self-report flow, capacity, and generation, but only in relative terms. Then, there¡¯s the causality problem.¡±

    Mirian knew about that one at least. ¡°Yeah, you can figure out it¡¯s increased, but not why. Too many variables.¡±

    ¡°Yup.¡± Lily paused to take a bite of her savory pie. The bakers had gotten the crust perfectly flaky. ¡°So, some people think you just get more mana over time, and that¡¯s it. Others suggest meditation, though some of them say meditation only works in special places. Then there¡¯s the people who say it¡¯s just a matter of practicing spells. But if you practice a spell enough, you get more efficient at casting it, which seems like it improves your capacity, but it¡¯s just for that spell, so one study we read said all auric mana improvements are illusionary and your auric mana is fixed. But one wizard we studied thought if you practiced stripping your auric mana almost entirely, it¡¯s like working a muscle, you gotta really push it to the limits before it grows. Another one said that was totally bogus and it has to do with eating a special diet of myrvites. Then we read another guy who said eating myrvites was probably just producing traces of alchemical mana in the aura, so that was only a temporary improvement.¡±

    ¡°What you¡¯re saying is: nobody knows.¡±

    ¡°Basically.¡± Lily took another bite. ¡°This is so good. How did you know about this place?¡±

    ¡°Lucky guess. Saw it from the market and thought it looked good. Well, that¡¯s a lie, I smelled it first. So what¡¯d your professor say?¡±

    ¡°She said it¡¯s probably all true, but you have to do it right. There¡¯s plenty of evidence that people have increased their mana traits, but some people see way more growth than others. Like, if you practice a spell wrong, you¡¯re not going to get better. If you meditate wrong, you¡¯re not going to improve. If you don¡¯t actually push yourself to your limit, your capacity doesn¡¯t improve. And mana generation is almost certainly tied to food because it¡¯s tied to your soul which is tied to you and you need food.¡± Lily paused and chewed thoughtfully. ¡°Also, everyone knows you get super hungry after casting a bunch of spells, just like exercise.¡±

    The Academy was full of rumors and talk, and Mirian had heard the basic gist of those ideas, but it was good to hear which parts the magical research actually supported. ¡°If we could measure souls directly, that would sure help.¡± Then she blinked, realization dawning on her.

    ¡°Yeah, but you can¡¯t,¡± Lily said, just as Mirian was thinking I¡¯ve always heard you can¡¯t, but necromancers have to be able to do it. If auric mana can be measured, and they siphon auric mana from souls, they¡¯ve done it. She leaned back in her chair. So why does everyone say you can¡¯t? I can¡¯t be the only one who¡¯s thought of that. Obviously I can¡¯t talk to a necromancer¡­ but maybe Xipuatl knows. If she could learn to sense her own soul, not just her auric mana, she would be able to see if what she was doing was working.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡°Well you just got thoughtful,¡± Lily said.

    Mirian smiled. ¡°It¡¯s a lot to think about. So what do you do?¡±

    ¡°Practice, mostly. When I meditate, I can see my auric mana, but it doesn¡¯t feel like I can do anything with it.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, same for me,¡± Mirian said. But of course she couldn¡¯t influence it. That¡¯s why people needed an arcane catalyst to cast spells. That got her wondering¡ªcould a catalyst be used in meditation? What did the auramancers that Akana was using do to mess with their auras? And why did every answer she got always lead to more questions?

    Overhead, the first stars were coming out, and the Divir moon twinkled brightly. She tried not to think too much about that.

    ***

    The next day, Mirian sold the wands from her first level combat certification to one of the students in her dorm. The more advanced wands, she kept. She¡¯d need them for her classes, and it would save her the time of needing to build a spellrod again. Then, she got to work on making another cartography device. Now that she knew the pitfalls to avoid and what supplies to purchase ahead of time, it only took her most of a full day. After dinner, she headed for Bainrose.

    This time, Mirian had made the cartography device slightly smaller so it actually fit in her satchel. She¡¯d still have to get it out to use it, but it wouldn¡¯t be quite so suspicious. She headed down to the second basement level, then surreptitiously got out her spellbook and started casting.

    Detect passage turned out to be a useless spell. The refurbished catacombs constantly triggered the spell in every direction, including down rows of bookcases. Problematically, the faint light from reveal iron¡¯s glow was visible to anyone, so Mirian had to wait until a given section was empty of students before quickly casting it. Fortunately, she had a pretty good idea of where the soldiers had come out, so it only took her three tries to find the hidden steel switch embedded in the wall. Then it was a matter of hunting down the switch. Unlike Griffin Hall, there were no bricks, just thick stone blocks.

    Another student came around the corner and caught her poking at the wall and gave her a funny look. Mirian pretended to read a book off the shelf until he left, then went back to searching. Then she realized¡ªthere wasn¡¯t a switch on this side. She tried using her phantom magnet to press and pull at the steel behind the wall, but as she suspected, it wasn¡¯t strong enough to do the job.

    She needed to enhance it.

    Mirian took out her wand of flame bolt and used one of her tools to pry open the wooden casing. The glyphs that intensified a basic fire spell were almost entirely the same ones that would intensify a magnetic spell. All she needed to do was scribe one more glyph on her phantom magnet page, which she quickly did. Then, she just needed to channel through most of the glyphs in the wand, avoiding the last ones in the sequence, then direct the mana into her spellbook. Mirian clenched her jaw in concentration. What she was doing was dangerous. If she failed to hold onto the direction of the stream, the mana would take the easiest path, which was straight through the fire wand. She had to keep control, or she might cause a flame burst next to a bunch of books.

    She could feel the mana flows slipping. She closed her eyes and refocused, thinking not of the path of the mana as traveling through space, but through something else. She thought of the flow diagrams she¡¯d doodled in her journal, and suddenly knew why the mana flow was so hard to control. It just needed to bend¡ªthere! Her hands were trembling, but the spell had succeeded. She moved the center of the magnet downward, and to her delight, she heard the rumble of stone. Yes! She quickly entered the passage, then shut the door before any students wandered by. Then she cast a light spell.

    Now that she could see it, the lever that opened the door was obvious, and she¡¯d been right¡ªit was only on this side. She placed the second half of the flame bolt wand casing back, though without properly repairing the mana channel she¡¯d broken and re-gluing the case, there was no way she could safely use it. Channeling mana into it after that was liable to make it explode, maybe even igniting the arcane catalyst. Mirian fished out her mapping device and got to work.

    The northern tunnels had a very different feel to them than the ones directly under Torrviol. Bainrose¡¯s basement may have been made on top of the old catacombs, but the passages north were plainly just old catacombs, and despite what the history books had said, not all of the interred corpses had been moved. The tunnels were narrow and filled with crevasses, making them perfect for hiding rodents that liked to squeak or skitter off just as she was passing them (Mirian only swore loudly twice). If the Torrviol underground had been maze-like, these tunnels were just a straight-up maze. When she walked past a full skeleton that was splayed out in a narrow hall, she wondered if the librarian hadn¡¯t been exaggerating when she said several students had gotten lost and died in the passages.

    Mirian was glad she¡¯d make the cartography device again, or there was no way she¡¯d make sense of the passages. At each junction, the halls turned at odd angles, then wormed around in anything but a straight line. Alcoves that once held tombs looked at a glance to be another hall, but dead-ended immediately. The sepulchers, shrouded in shadows, made it hard to see how long each passage was. Mirian used red ink from one of her pens to mark a route back to the passage on the map herself. She was about to leave when she saw another skeleton.

    Unlike the others she¡¯d seen, this skeleton was complete. It wasn¡¯t a piece, and it wasn¡¯t decayed, though it did have the gnaw-marks of rats. No, what made it different was it was wearing the uniform of an Arcane Praetorian. The pants had been half-eaten away and the flesh mostly stripped, but whoever had killed them hadn¡¯t bothered to take the armor. And it was murder, she was sure. There was the small entry of a bullet in the back of the head, and the forehead of the skeleton was utterly ruined. Mirian didn¡¯t need to be a coroner to figure that one out.

    Professor Holvatti had said something interesting once: that bones were a lot like rocks. Mirian cast date rock. The spell wouldn¡¯t be precise, but it would give a general sense of how long the bones had been lying around. Three years. Very recent, as far as these catacombs were concerned. But¡ªwhat the five hells did that mean? She was sure she would have heard about a royal guard who went missing in Torrviol.

    The personal effects of the skeleton had been stripped, but as the coat had decayed, something had fallen out of the red and silver doublet. It was a letter, she realized. Carefully, she reached under the ribcage to grab it, then gingerly unfolded it. Parts of it were torn or stained dark brown, but somehow, pieces of the note were still legible.

    <blockquote>

    Adria,

    ¡­me in Bainrose¡­ show you that will help your inves¡­

    ¡­risky to communicate by lett¡­

    Signed,

    ¡­iokli¡­unn

    </blockquote>

    Mirian tried to make sense of the note. This Adria¡ªshe¡¯d been lured down here. But the name of the person who¡¯d sent her the letter was incomplete. And they¡¯d been sloppy enough to leave it, it seemed. Still, this was an agent of the crown. An Arcane Praetorian! Someone elite enough their disappearance or death should have caused notice.

    She carefully placed the letter between the pages of her notebook. Then she glanced over. Poking out of a pile of dirt and ash was¡­ a wand. The killer must have missed this, she thought. It was barely visible, and maybe when it had been left, it wasn¡¯t visible at all. She picked it up and dusted it off. It had a beautifully polished obsidian handle, and the wood shaft was delicately carved with scrollwork. Despite that, there was no indication of what kind of wand it might be, and deep underground in a narrow passage was not a good place to experiment with it. She stashed it in her satchel, then turned back to her mapping device so she could head back out.

    As she rounded the corner, though, she saw movement ahead and froze, fear gripping her. A deep hissing filled the catacombs. From the shadows emerged a chimeric beast, both of its heads fixated on Mirian. The first head was that of a viper, and the second was of a snapping turtle. It was covered in gray-green scales, with a dark shell protecting most of its body. A long tail flicked about behind it. With its bulk, it took up the entire passage.

    Mirian had just looked at the map, so she already knew: it was blocking the only way out.

 Chapter 43 - Lessons in Combat

    The chimera let out another sinister hiss from both its mouths as it stalked forward. Mirian backpedaled as quickly as she dared. She looked one more time at the map. Then the snake¡¯s head lunged forward, fangs bared. Mirian didn¡¯t have time to think, only to react. She hurled the cartography device at the head.

    There was a thunk as it clobbered the snake head, which retracted, looking annoyed, then a crack! as the frame of the device hit the stone floor and shattered¡ªand with it, all the light in the tunnel.

    Mirian felt her way back, hands moving along the nooks, and prayed that none of the natural spells the chimera possessed included darkvision or divination. Carefully, she reached into her bag and pulled out the wands. There were four. By feel, she could tell which one was the fire bolt wand because it had a crack running down the center. She set it back. The second wand had a smooth obsidian handle, which wasn¡¯t her work. Definitely not the time to experiment with strange wands. She stuffed them back in the satchel.

    She heard another echoing hiss and the steps of the chimera coming closer. Shit, shit shit! Mirian had come to terms with dying, but she did not want to be eaten alive. She continued backing up as quietly and as quickly as was possible, then heard something crunch underfoot. Shit!

    She held the two remaining wands in her hands and kept the satchel on her shoulder. There was no telling which wand was which because she¡¯d made the casings identical. The force drill wand would be near useless; it could deal with practice dummies just fine, but any contact with a creature¡¯s aura and the spell quickly withered. The minor lightning wand might do better. Either one would reveal her position, as the myrvite could sense magic just as well as she could. The myrvite was right in front of her; she could hear its breath. She raised the left wand, praying, and channeled.

    A flash of lightning illuminated the tunnel for a second. In that instant, Mirian could see the chimera was right in front of her, but there was a small gap in a tunnel to her left. She ducked and rolled, but her satchel snagged on the corner of a protruding corner and she went sprawling. As she did, she heard the snap! of the turtle¡¯s jaws just above her. Mirian scrambled forward, leaving her satchel and its contents spilled across the ground. She rolled onto her back, kicking up dust, then shot another bolt at the myrvite. As the bolt connected, she could see the snake head was poised to strike this time. Her duelist reflexes kicked in and she rolled to the side, and without a moment to spare. The head whooshed through the air by her, close enough the scales of the viper¡¯s hood brushed her cheek. Mirian stood, taking a dueling pose, then retreated backwards. The lightning seemed to be annoying the chimera, but it sure as hell wasn¡¯t doing damage.

    Once again, she could hear the beast approaching. It moved slow in the dark, but steadily. If it was down here, it probably knew the catacombs better than she ever would. There was also the thick carapace on its back. This thing was tough, and she needed to find some way to either get by or kill it. The problem was, it took up the whole corridor, and its belly was too close to the ground for her to scramble under it.

    Mirian¡¯s back foot thudded into a wall. She needed to see where to go next. She channeled another lightning bolt, and again, a flash of light briefly illuminated them. The corridor split, but there wasn¡¯t time to think about left or right, just to move. She dove left, rolling again, then rose and used the wand in her right hand this time. She didn¡¯t point at the chimera though¡ªshe pointed above it.

    There was a roar, followed by cracking as some of the stone in the ceiling shattered. The force drill spell was designed to deal with barriers, not animals. It was perfect for breaking apart rock. She heard thuds and cracks as piece of the ceiling rained down on the beast, hitting its head and shell. Her next lighting spell revealed that the viper head was wounded; the chimera was now dragging it in the dirt as it moved forward, but the snapping turtle head with its terrifying, bone-breaking beak, seemed unfazed. Mirian dodged to the side as it lunged at her and heard the snap! where her head had just been. She couldn¡¯t keep retreating. Soon enough, her luck would run out and she¡¯d end up in a chamber with no way out. Without the agile snake head threatening her, she had a new option. Mirian shot another bolt, then darted forward, fists outstretched. She used the shell of the beast to vault herself up while still clinging to the wands, then slid across the shell. Small spikes on it cut into her.

    For a moment, she thought she¡¯d done it. The corridor was too narrow for the beast to turn around easily. But as her feet hit the ground, she felt the tail of the beast wrap around her left leg. Instead of gracefully running past the myrvite, she ended up getting slammed to the ground, the tail constricting around her leg until she screamed.

    Mirian reached for something¡ªanything!¡ªand her hands found a pointed rock. She brought it down again and again onto the snake tail in an adrenaline-fueled panicked fury until at last the tail let go and she scrambled past. In the fight, though, she¡¯d let go of her wands. With a chattering, hissing sound, the myrvite started to turn, shell loudly scraping the adjacent stone walls. The myrvite was now on top of the lightning and force wands. But there were the other two wands she¡¯d dropped, and her spellbook.

    She briefly ran forward, then felt for her spellbook. Not with her hands¡ªit would be impossible to find in the dark¡ªbut with her aura. If the arcane catalyst was close enough, she could feel the prick of it in her mana flow. She focused, trying to ignore the sound of the chimera¡¯s feet crunching the stone behind her, trying to calm her heavy breathing.

    She walked forward, slowly, focusing on her mental picture of her aura. There!

    Mirian dove down, hands groping for whatever it was. Her fingers closed around a wand. She stood quickly and moved as quickly as she dared until her fingers touched the far wall of the catacombs. She could hear the myrvite behind her, closing in. Running her fingers down the wand, she could feel the split in it. It was the fire bolt wand that wasn¡¯t fully back together. First, she despaired. Then she got an idea.

    The constant spellcasting with the cartography device and the combat spells had exhausted most of Mirian¡¯s mana. Still, she needed to be able to see, just for a moment more. Using the arcane catalyst, she conjured a raw spell¡ªa light.

    The chimera jerked back at the sudden brightness, then began to advance more quickly, the turtle¡¯s jaw open, ready to crack her bones. Mirian glanced right and saw the path, as well as the now broken cartography device. She ended the light spell, then ran right. As she did, she channeled into the wand, but dropped it on the ground. Maintaining the connection to it at such a distance was difficult, but she only needed to maintain it for a few seconds. She heard the chimera¡¯s shell crunch into the wall as it turned again toward her. In those seconds as she ran, she put as much mana as she could into the wand, then dove forward into the dirt. Broken as it was, the wand wouldn¡¯t cast the spell.

    But it would explode.

    The fireball that erupted lit up the catacombs again in a flash of red and orange, and she heard stone crack. The roar of the blast echoed up and down the halls, then faded.

    Mirian groped about in the dirt and rock for the cartography device. It was completely busted, but the arcane catalyst was still there. Her mana was nearly gone, but she cast a raw light spell.

    The chimera lay slumped over and still. The blast had cracked open the underside of the shell, and Mirian could now smell both the disgorged contents of its guts and the rancid smell of burnt meat. She stepped around it and grabbed her satchel, quickly replacing the journal and tools that had spilled out. She kept the spellbook in hand, and replaced her raw spell with the book¡¯s light spell so her mana didn¡¯t drain so fast. Then she gathered up the minor lightning and force drill spells. There was that third mystery wand too¡ªshe saw it had rolled up the hallway northward of the beast. She took a step forward¡ªthen froze.

    The chimera hadn¡¯t been the only beast down here.

    Stepping towards the mysterious wand was another beast that filled the corridor, only beneath its gray-green scales was lean muscle that rippled as it moved. Its mane dripped down like algae. The bog lion, Mirian decided, was well named. It was also a lot larger and scarier than any of the pictures had conveyed, and the black teeth it was baring looked the size of daggers.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    There was no way she could fight it.

    She ran.

    Mirian ran a lot. She was fast. She was certain a bog lion was faster, and the only thing that might save her was the narrow twisting passages of the catacomb. She heard the scramble of claws on stone and the echoing grumbling roar of the beast. As it echoed through the catacombs, it felt like it was all around her. Mirian scrambled through a narrow passage, trying to remember the map. Right. Left. Left again. Back right. Straight two. Shit, was it left or right here? She heard another echoing roar and sprinted left and prayed. Then she came to a dead end.

    For a moment, she panicked, and thought about all the horrible ways she might be torn apart if the bog lion got her, then remembered: right, it¡¯s a dead end because this is the door. She found the lever and slammed it down, leapt through the opening, then slammed the stone portal shut. And just in time, too. She thought she¡¯d seen the flicker of a shadow moving around the corner. Bog lions could cast natural illusion spells, and often, that meant camouflaging. She was lucky it hadn¡¯t tried to sneak up on her.

    Panting hard, Mirian slunk down to catch her breath.

    She looked up to see a second year student staring at her, mouth open. ¡°Did you¡­ did you just come out of a wall?¡± he said.

    Mirian stood up and dusted herself off. ¡°No, obviously not. Get more sleep so you don¡¯t hallucinate.¡± Then she walked away before the conversation could continue.

    Well, she¡¯d learned a valuable lesson about the north passages. One, they were creepy. Two, they were full of monsters. And three¡ªdammit, there was something really important there! She¡¯d have to return when she was better prepared.

    ***

    Snow fell again on Torrviol. Mirian had mended her clothes, replaced her flame bolt wand, and gone to the hospital to get the nasty bruise on her head checked out. She¡¯d watched the priest carefully, trying to feel if any magic was taking place like Xipuatl seemed to think, but she couldn¡¯t sense anything. Which didn¡¯t prove anything, she realized. It got her thinking, though. If priests were using magic, even if it was celestial magic, wouldn¡¯t they need an arcane catalyst? Or was prayer sufficient? If it was prayer, how did their prayers differ from the prayers of the common people?

    As she walked to class, it was those thoughts that jumbled about in her head, mixing together with arcane theory and another batch of glyphs she was trying to memorize. She talked amicably with Lily, though she tried to steer the conversation where it hadn¡¯t gone before, because talking about classes again was starting to annoy her.

    Mirian set up the next study session with Nicolus, then headed for the one class she was actually excited for: Combat Magic 301.

    Professor Cassius was one of the few professors who wore a full dress uniform. He stood upright and never smiled. His peppered hair gave him a look of wisdom, and his height and muscle gave him a presence that didn¡¯t countenance nonsense.

    They met in one of the halls that was adjacent to the practice range. Like Professor Seneca, Cassius had a pocket watch, and when the belltower chimed, he snapped it shut and began immediately, though he went so far as to use a pull spell on the door to slam it shut.

    ¡°We begin. It is my opinion that specialization is superior to generalization in most instances. For war, this is certainly the case. Just as a soldier trains with a rifle, not the entire armory, the effective battlemage will have a focus. The Baracuel Army has found that the most effective squads attack with multiple weapons simultaneously. Should you decide to join, you will need a weapon. This is not to say a battlemage should abandon all versatility¡ªthere is a reason magi are valued over common infantry¡ªbut that you should become efficient at your role. The same is true for anyone looking to delve about in the Labyrinth. There is one thing myrvites yield to, and that is combat prowess. Therefore, as we practice, I will encourage you to look for the spells you are most effective at casting. Usually, students gravitate towards one energy type. It is only through effective practice you will see improvement. This class is designed for students who seek to have careers in combat disciplines, not for those still casually testing the different domains of magic. Those that have signed up for the class in a fit of delusion, I would encourage to drop.¡±

    Cassius then looked around the room coldly. Briefly his eyes lingered on Mirian, then he continued. ¡°You will be expected to practice on the range for one hour each weekday, in addition to the exercises we do in class. Today, we will discuss theory. Tomorrow, we will implement it.¡±

    True to his word, the next day they were already pairing up to practice. Thankfully, Mirian got paired with Daith, a fifth year. He was a ginger, meaning he was probably from Palendurio or the surround. He had a good eye for mistakes and actually knew how to read the tri-point energy meters they were using. He also had a bad eye¡ªhis left eye was cloudy and reflected light the same way a cat¡¯s did in the dark.

    Some of the younger students acted like they¡¯d never seen the devices before and were busy prodding at the controls as Mirian and Daith got started. They took turns, with one blasting targets and the other keeping an eye on the device to look at the energy going into the wand, leaving the wand, and hitting the target.

    ¡°You seem to be doing best with the lightning spells,¡± he said near the end of the session.

    ¡°Huh. Really? Not the force spells?¡± Mirian¡¯s mana still hadn¡¯t fully recovered from the incident in the catacombs. She was surprised she¡¯d done as well as she did.

    ¡°Definitely not the force spells. Those wands of yours are nice though. Where¡¯d you buy them?¡±

    ¡°I made them,¡± she said.

    ¡°Oh. So combat¡¯s not your focus. That¡¯s, uh, good.¡±

    Mirian laughed. ¡°No, I just started. My degree will be in artifice. Yours is combat?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. You need it if you¡¯re going to join the Arcane Praetorians. Battlemage focus. The Praetorians don¡¯t want the sorcerer meatheads.¡±

    Mirian nodded. ¡°Your technique is good. I think one of the arcane capacitors in your flame bolt wand has a flaw, though. The outputted energy was dipping below the other two at the exit point. Your mana efficiency seems good, even with that, though.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said. ¡°My older sister¡¯s hand-me-down wands. Surprised they still work.¡±

    ¡°Out of curiosity, what do the 400 level classes look like for the major?¡± They started disassembling the tri-point energy meter so they could put it in its little cart and wheel it back to the storage closet in the classroom.

    ¡°You¡¯re expected to hit certain marks on energy outputs, and higher marks in your chosen specialty spells. I think it¡¯s 50 myr for regular spells, and 60 myr for your specialty. Hence having us start to track our spellpower output now. Most people have an affinity for fire, and since other energy likes turning into heat energy, you can screw up your mana transmutation and still get a hot enough fireball to pass. Most people go with fire because it¡¯s easy.¡±

    ¡°But not a good strategy for getting into the Arcane Praetorians,¡± Mirian guessed. ¡°They probably get too many applicants in that field. So what¡¯s your specialty?¡±

    Daith smiled. ¡°Magnetism.¡±

    ¡°Useful,¡± she said, and she meant it. Next cycle she was for sure scribing a strong magnet spell. It could open the switches of hidden doors, for one, and probably screw up the guns of the Akanan soldiers. ¡°Can you stop a bullet?¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°Not yet. You¡¯d need to hit at least 70 myr for the magnetic shield to have enough energy, and in a fairly small area. I know Archmage Luspire and Professor Cassius can do it. I¡¯d bet at least half the professors can¡¯t, though.¡±

    That got her thinking. ¡°What¡¯s the highest myr an aracanist has been recorded hitting?¡± That would be a good benchmark for her to compare herself too.

    ¡°That¡¯s disputed,¡± Daith said. He started pushing the detector back to class, and they joined the meandering line of students chatting as they returned to the building. Cassius was obviously a hard-ass, but at least he didn¡¯t actually enforce military discipline. ¡°The wizard who made the scale thought he¡¯d found the theoretical maximum a human was capable of, and set that at 100 myr. Then came the Archmage Solvir, who was claimed to have hit 150 myr with a disintegration beam. Of course, the rival academies called it a measurement error, and he died in the Unification Wars before they could resolve the issue. Then there¡¯s all the mythical tales of powerful spellcasters that are said to have done far greater things, which implies an even higher number, but of course, no one ever measured them, and probably, those old tales were exaggerated.¡±

    Mirian nodded. ¡°Probably. So how¡¯d Solvir die if he was so powerful?¡±

    That made Daith grin. ¡°That¡¯s the question, isn¡¯t it? He fought the necromancer Atroxcidi. Had several other arcanists with him, too. And Atroxcidi beat him. That implies spellpower that eclipsed Solvir, doesn¡¯t it? No surviving witnesses, though, except Atroxicidi, of course.¡±

    That gave Mirian a little chill. The myr scale wasn¡¯t linear. The kinds of energy they would have been wielding at 150 myr would have made their spells more powerful than a direct hit by an Akanan artillery. That was magic, though. It took years of training to lift the kind of weight a toddler could carry, but at the high end of the scale, it utterly eclipsed what a human could do without magical training.

    There was another thing itching at the back of her brain. The name ¡®Atroxcidi¡¯ sounded familiar, but she couldn¡¯t place where she¡¯d heard it. History class, maybe? He seemed like an important fellow.

    ¡°You know your history,¡± she said.

    Daith shrugged. ¡°That¡¯s the kind of thing I like to learn about. The boring parts of history, like who signed the treaty of whatever, I never cared for.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, same,¡± Mirian said, even though she was starting to appreciate that sometimes history could actually be useful.

    ¡°Hey, let¡¯s match up as partners again for the next sessions. I don¡¯t really want to, you know.¡± She jerked her head back towards one of the other groups behind them that they¡¯d seen having trouble even turning on the tri-point detector.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to ask twice,¡± he said. ¡°See you tomorrow.¡±

 Chapter 44 - Soul Searching

    When it came time for the study session with Nicolus and Xipuatl, Mirian¡¯s first move was to get the two boys to argue about if Baracuel or Tlaxhuaco¡¯s magic was better. After their spat, she was ready with summaries of some of the books, critiques of some others, and a ready-made list of what they should study.

    ¡°Huh. You really know your stuff,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°When did you¡­?¡±

    ¡°Probably frittered away less time drinking,¡± Sire Nurea muttered.

    ¡°Frittered my ti¡ªhey, that¡¯s called building social capital. It¡¯s useful.¡±

    ¡°Only if they become useful. And judging by your friends¡¯ grades¡­.¡±

    ¡°Ouch,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°Anyways, that¡­ huh, that cuts short our session.¡±

    Xipuatl shrugged. ¡°Fine by me.¡±

    As they were leaving, though, Mirian said in a low voice to Xipuatl, ¡°Hey, actually, can I talk to you about something?¡±

    ¡°This is one of those rhetorical questions where my response doesn¡¯t matter, yes?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian said. ¡°You know soul magic, right?¡±

    Xipuatl went still and looked at her. Nicolus and Nurea departed, and it was just the two of them in the study room.

    Mirian continued. ¡°That was also a rhetorical question. Listen¡ªcan you teach me?¡±

    Xipuatl kept staring at her. Finally, he said, ¡°Hypothetically, if you were right, what would I gain? Besides exposure to criminal heresy charges.¡±

    ¡°A research partner. You think Baracuel¡¯s arcanists are a tier below your nagual. That our researches are missing key information. I can help you prove it, but only if you teach me the basics.¡±

    ¡°Who¡¯s your source?¡±

    ¡°I overhear things,¡± she said, because saying ¡®you are¡¯ would lead to too many questions.

    The other student ground his jaw lightly, still considering Mirian. As before, she knew he wanted to work on his theory, but she¡¯d also moved a lot faster than she normally did, and he was understandably cautious.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need a research partner,¡± he finally said, and closed the buckle on his bag. He put on his cloak and headed for the door.

    ¡°Did you get into Arcane Mathematics with Professor Jei?¡± she asked.

    Xipuatl paused at the door, then turned.

    ¡°I did. You need a mathematician. That¡¯s me. I just want the basics.¡± It was her best in. Offering money to Xipuatl would be silly. Despite her credit from Tower Trust and the stolen coins from the spy, her finances still paled compared to someone in the nobility, even with a minor family like the Yanez. Xipuatl hadn¡¯t moved from the door, so Mirian opened up her notebook. ¡°This is my cartography device design. Here¡¯s the four dimensional arrays we¡¯re using to calculate true mana paths. Here¡¯s my notes from calculus¡ªthat was my second year here.¡±

    Xipuatl closed the door and sat down. ¡°You¡¯ve certainly been hiding in the shadows. I¡¯d never even heard your name before Nicolus told me about you. Said you were some sort of ¡®weird little genius in alchemistry.¡¯ Then it turns out you¡¯ve already read half of the spell engine books we were planning on dividing up.¡±

    Mirian scoffed. ¡°I¡¯m no genius. But I work hard, and I don¡¯t give up.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s more valuable than intelligence. But better still if combined. What are you willing to commit to?¡±

    ¡°I can build or modify detectors, or any device you need. Unless they have something super expensive, I can finance them myself. And I¡¯m¡­ well, I¡¯m skeptical. But I¡¯m willing to listen. And I never stop learning.¡±

    He stood again, then paced around the room. He wanted to¡ªMirian could tell. ¡°I need time to think,¡± he said. ¡°Talk to me tomorrow.¡±

    Well, it wasn¡¯t a ¡®no.¡¯ She could live with that.

    ***

    The next day, Mirian snuck in a few questions about miniaturizing glyphs in Artifice Design. Torres briefly diagrammed the mechanical devices needed, which Mirian enthusiastically jotted down. One type was purely mechanical, and like a primitive printing press, only could draw one glyph at a time. The newer kinds mimicked the movement of a person¡¯s hand by reading their actions and then reducing the force-output applied to a small pen inside the device. Of course, an arcanist was still needed to operate the device to get good mana flow. The attempts to create automatic glyph scribing machines using spell engines failed because the engines were incredibly wasteful, and the entropic mana radiating off the device damaged the glyphs as they were being scribed. Mirian was pleased to note that the devices used similar principles to her cartography device that was currently languishing in the catacombs.

    In Illusion Spells, Professor Marva was repeating the lessons from last loop. Mirian doodled conceptual designs in her notebook and thought about how she could move to the more advanced illusion classes. Mid-quarter transfer, maybe? But she¡¯d have to prove she was good enough to skip a core prerequisite class. Given that the apocalypse always cut the quarter short, it was going to take more than a few more loops for her to get that good.

    After Spell Engine Alchemistry, Mirian caught Xipuatl¡¯s eye from two rows over and raised her eyebrows questioningly. In turn he mouthed ¡°more time.¡± Dammit, don¡¯t back out, Mirian thought.

    In Combat Magic, Mirian and Daith partnered up again.

    They got right back to the practice grounds with the detectors. Midway through the session, Mirian felt particularly good about one of her minor lightning spells. But when she looked to Daith, he announced, ¡°36 myr.¡±

    ¡°Five hells, is that it?¡±

    Daith was regularly getting in the 40s, and lightning wasn¡¯t even his specialty. They weren¡¯t supposed to be using magnetic spells, but he¡¯d cast warp metal and gotten a high of 54 myr on the detector¡ªat point of target, too, not even just at the spell origin.

    ¡°It feels like you¡¯re holding back,¡± he said.

    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± she said, but after class, it got Mirian thinking. Was she holding back? She¡¯d been taught to hold back a lot as a child. Her fierce temper as a kid had gotten her into trouble until she learned how to control it. There¡¯d been the¡­ that thing that had happened, and she¡¯d been a barely contained tempest of emotions. She could still remember her fists flying at school, and then Dad taking her aside¡ªonly the memories were all jumbled. One of them was Dad, and one of them¡­ she shook her head to try to clear it. She¡¯d heard the same thing in dueling class, where if you were afraid of hurting your opponent, your attacks would never be fast enough. Was she afraid of losing control? When she¡¯d first started at the Academy, she¡¯d been afraid to unleash a spell she couldn¡¯t control, or break a capacitor by overwhelming it with mana. Unfounded fears, but did they still linger in her subconscious?

    As a result, Mirian didn¡¯t take very many notes in Arcane Physics.

    Xipuatl met her after class. First, he checked to make sure no one was listening in. Then he said, ¡°I¡¯ve made up my mind. I need a drop of your blood, though. That¡¯s the only way I¡¯ll agree to it.¡±

    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    ¡°Why?¡± Mirian asked, suddenly suspicious.

    ¡°Insurance. To make sure you don¡¯t double-cross me.¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t crossed you once, so it¡¯d be single-crossing, actually. But how does blood help with that?¡± She¡¯d heard tales of blood being used for sinister spells as a girl. As far as she knew, they were all just that: tall tales that were part of the ¡®necromancers are scary¡¯ genre. None of their studies had covered blood being used in any ritual or glyph. But then again, necromancy was banned in all forms, and that included discussion of it. Would any of her professors even know?

    ¡°Hopefully, by the time you find out, we¡¯ll have established enough trust that it won¡¯t be necessary.¡±

    Mirian bit her lip. She was pretty sure Xipuatl was trustworthy. After all, he¡¯d been steadfast in helping organize the exodus of the town, and he¡¯d fought hard to help them all escape. Or was that just an act and he really just cared about his own skin? Well, how much harm can he do in a few days? ¡°I accept,¡± she said.

    ¡°Good. Let¡¯s head back to my place. It¡¯ll be easier to teach there, and more secure. Did you know there¡¯s a girl that likes to follow you?¡±

    Mirian looked around, but didn¡¯t spot the ¡®her¡¯ in question. ¡°Oh Gods. Is it Valen? She is seriously obsessed. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s wrong with her.¡± Also, it was a little creepy that Xipuatl had been watching her to see what she got up to. But then again, she knew things about Xipuatl that this version of him had never told her, which was weird in itself. It was hard to be a time traveler and not be creepy.

    ¡°Short sixth year, dirty blond hair, struts about like she owns the world and gives everyone she runs into attitude?¡±

    Mirian sighed. ¡°Yeah that¡¯s Valen. She¡¯s¡­ probably harmless. Yeah, let¡¯s go.¡±

    Xipuatl¡¯s place was nested among several other apartments for the wealthy, between the old theater and Torrviol Lake. It wasn¡¯t inherited property, either; the Yanez family had simply bought the property when their son had been accepted into the Academy. Xipuatl offhandedly mentioned a servant had lived with him the first two years until he was deemed capable of living independently.

    Mirian was envious of that. She¡¯d been a nervous wreck her first two years, having to carefully manage her money and do a hundred things adults did that she¡¯d never done back home. That, and Torrviol had seemed terrifyingly big compared to her village of Arriroba, and always full of strangers.

    The apartment looked normal enough on the outside, but on the inside, it had few decorations that were normal to Baracuel. Xipuatl was clearly far more proud of his Tlaxhuacan heritage, even though he was also half Baracueli, and the art displays reflected that. The living room wall displayed a conspicuous banner containing the black and green of the Tlaxhuaco and the white and red world-tree symbol in the center of the design. The ornate pottery, carved jade, and wooden statues had none of the realism that Baracueli artists favored. Instead, they were heavy in symbolism, with leaves and sunbeams figuring prominently, even in the faces of figures.

    ¡°¡­and this is the meditation room,¡± Xipuatl said. The meditation room was far more drab, with gray and brown tapestries covering the walls and ceiling. In the center was a carpet woven to resemble the night sky, and in the corners of the room, four stelae that were the only splash of bright color. The stelae were some kind of pale wood that was streaked with a dark gray irregular grain. Part of the natural wood remained, including the thin bark. Other parts had been painted with swirling vivid cyan and scarlet, then adorned with coiled golden wire. Though abstract, they gave the impression of coiled serpents, spread wings, and people in motion.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Mirian said. ¡°These are gorgeous.¡± And ridiculously expensive, I¡¯ll bet. The gold wire alone probably costs as much as a smaller apartment. The totems had been rooted to the wooden floor so that they seemed to grow out of it. She wondered if it was a result of normal wood-fusing spells, or from some soul magic, like when Xipuatl had turned the banebriar vines on the scarabites.

    Xipuatl didn¡¯t comment, he just shut the door.

    There were no windows in the meditation room, and Mirian noted that the door leading to it was reinforced by glyphs. The room became dark, the faint glow of the stelae the only thing illuminating the room.

    ¡°Now we can talk openly,¡± he said. ¡°I know it¡¯s unlikely that the Luminate Order is listening, and technically, Tlaxhuacan traditional practices are protected by treaty, but several people in my family have died to overzealous priests. You understand my caution.¡±

    Died? She¡¯d thought that necromancer-hunting was a thing of the past. Of course, the Luminate order did seem to have a different reputation out west. ¡°I do,¡± she said.

    ¡°So what do you already know?¡± he asked.

    Mirian frowned. ¡°Not much,¡± she admitted. Most of it was suspicions, and the rest of it things from past loops. ¡°Celestial magic¡ªah, soul magic, that is¡ªI know the priests use it. I¡¯ve always been fascinated by it, but I¡¯ve never used it.¡±

    ¡°The first thing you need is a focus,¡± Xipuatl said. ¡°It¡¯s like an arcane catalyst.¡± He went over to the far wall.

    ¡°Luminate priests don¡¯t use a focus,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Yeah they do. Their holy symbol. The engraved amulets they all have that they wear beneath their shirts. They try to be subtle about it, but they need them just as surely as an arcanist needs their own tools.¡±

    That made sense to Mirian, but she was stuck on the why? Why hide it?

    ¡°Foci are harder to get than arcane catalysts. They don¡¯t just come from magical beasts. There¡¯s a reason the Order is protective of theirs. This one belongs to my family,¡± he said, and drew a jade relic from the wall. He had reached through the stone, and Mirian realized there was a persistent illusion hiding a recessed shelf. Clever. The jade relic was carved to resemble some kind of bird, though one she¡¯d never seen before. Its wings were splayed wide, but outlining it were flames, as if it had caught fire. Along the body, it looked like they were glyphs, though like none that Mirian had ever seen.

    ¡°Runes,¡± he said.

    ¡°The holy language of the Luminate Order. Only¡ªyou have them too.¡± So he hadn¡¯t been lying about that last cycle. Tlaxhuaco knows them. Does the Order know?

    ¡°Does that bother you?¡± he asked, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ curious. It seems like all I run into these days is more mysteries. As soon as one thing makes sense, two more don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    Mirian sighed. ¡°It would take too long to explain. So¡­ how do the foci work?¡±

    ¡°A focus needs to be made out of one of the Elder reliquaries, then carved with the right runes to function. The runes are different for each holy material.¡±

    ¡°The Elder reliquaries?¡± She¡¯d never heard that term before.

    ¡°It¡¯s... hmm. I don¡¯t think it translates right from Tlaxa¡ªI think the Order calls it something else, but that¡¯s just another of the secrets they keep.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ that¡¯s not mundane jade, is it?¡±

    ¡°No. It¡¯s irreplaceable. Suffice to say, it will not be leaving this room, and you are sworn to secrecy. Please hold out your pinky finger.¡±

    ¡°Why do I have¡ªoh right.¡± The drop of blood. Mirian winced at the slight prick of Xipuatl¡¯s thin knife. She watched him place the drop in a glass vial with a careful collect liquid spell, then place the vial in his jacket pocket.

    ¡°The meditation practices we used in our first year that allow us to sense and tap into our auric mana will work, but your mind¡¯s eye must be directed with more scrutiny. To see your soul, you must see yourself. Self-deception will hinder your sight. When first starting out, there is a dance I learned that helps you get in touch with your body, so we will start there.¡±

    ¡°A dance?¡± Mirian said, skeptical.

    ¡°A dance,¡± Xipuatl said. ¡°It has been preserved from time immemorial. Pre-Cataclysm, according to the stories. Once we have done it, I will guide you through the breathing and self-reflection exercises that will start to bring your soul into focus. It will probably take several days before you can even begin to see the outlines of it.¡±

    Mirian nodded.

    Xipuatl was a good teacher. There were seventeen forms in all, linked by sixteen movements. Several of the forms she¡¯d actually used in the martial practices they used to warm up for dueling, and she found it was easy to subsume her conscious thoughts into growing silent as she delved into the rhythm and physicality of the exercise. Unlike the lessons Mirian was giving Selesia, there was no undercurrent flowing beneath the instruction. Xipuatl was serious, and his eyes stayed analytical as he watched her for mistakes.

    By the end of it, Mirian could feel her pulse echoing within herself, reaching from her fingertips to her toes. Then Xipuatl handed her the jade focus to hold. The stone had a strange feel to it, like it was neither hot nor cold. Then, he guided her in reflection, his voice soothing and steady. She felt her heart calming, and she looked within. In the periphery of her mind¡¯s eye, she first saw the four distant beacons¡ªthe stelae in the room, she knew. Within that square, she could see the faint flow of her aura, moving like smoke on a windy day. Always before, there had been nothing within that. She tried, as Xipuatl directed, to look through the focus, and found that she slipped into it as easily as a warm bath. Xipuatl¡¯s voice faded in her ears, and it was like she was hearing another voice, older and deeper, with a faint echo¡ªso familiar, but where she¡¯d heard it slipped around the edges of her mind. Look deeper, Mirian, holding onto the focus¡­ holding onto yourself¡­.

    Within her was a flow, but unlike the tempestuous sky of an aura, this was the tight swirls of magma. The currents swirled into themselves, and even as they radiated a dangerous heat, there was a viscosity to it that spoke of resilience¡ªand yet, it was still liquid. I am not static, like a stone at rest. If I am to see myself, I must see that I am always changing, always moving. The soul is not water that can be locked in a jar, but the current of a river that is defined by its movement.

    And there it was, she realized¡ªher soul. She could not see the totality of it as an outsider, but here, within herself, she could feel it as it stirred within her. Only¡ªthere was something wrong. Or not wrong, but strange¡ªthere was a place where the currents never went, a place by her heart that thrummed along with her soul, but was empty. A void, she thought at first, but no, it wasn¡¯t empty. There was something there, within her.

    She emerged from the trance with a start, heart racing.

    ¡°Good¡ª¡± Xipuatl started to say, then he saw her expression. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s something else in my soul.¡±

 Chapter 45 - Fly

    Xipuatl looked at Mirian, then eloquently said, ¡°Wait¡­ what?¡± Then his face turned to disbelief. ¡°Wait, are you sure you saw your soul? The first time?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I could see my aura on the outside and it was like distant weather moving across the sky, and my soul was like lava that was swirling around like it was being blended, sort of like when you make tzatziki sauce and you¡¯re stirring really fast, except since it¡¯s all through your body it¡¯s more like if your circulatory system was made of the tzatziki and your heart was a blend spell.¡±

    She frowned.

    Xipuatl frowned.

    He said, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t quite describe the ephemeral majesty of the soul that way,¡± at the same time Mirian said, ¡°Gods that¡¯s my worst metaphor yet, I¡¯m so sorry.¡±

    Then Xipuatl went back to, ¡°But you actually¡­ saw it?¡±

    ¡°I sure think so. Only¡­ there was something there. Like a hole in it, except not a hole. I couldn¡¯t see it, but it was like something was displacing my soul and it had to go around. Like¡ª¡± She stopped herself before she said like the tzatziki sauce going around an invisible stir stick because there just had to be a better way.

    ¡°Have you been¡­ cursed?¡±

    ¡°Loads of times. One time at preparatory school, another girl thought I was spreading rumors about her and called me a¡ªoh, wait, you mean like a necromancer¡¯s curse? Gods no. I think I¡¯d remember that.¡± She paused. ¡°Can you examine my soul to see?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not my expertise, unfortunately. If you were a plant I could. Do you feel ill?¡±

    ¡°No, I feel fine. It wasn¡¯t hurting me or anything. At least, I don¡¯t think so.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good, because I can¡¯t fix curses. It¡¯s not¡­ soul magic is just as broad as arcane magic. Moreso, even. This is the other reason I need more people. If I¡¯m to fill in the theoretical gaps, I need people who can look beyond my piece of the picture. Speaking of which¡­ you brought your abacus?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Mirian said, handing the jade statue back.

    Xipuatl opened the door and led them to his study room. The room contained three entire shelves of books and scrolls, and a large ornate desk carved with the same forms and figures as the artwork in the apartment.

    His theoretical framework was, to put it lightly, amateurish. That made sense; he was still a student. It was clear that he was taking the research seriously, though. The scrolls and books he¡¯d accumulated were all full of hard numbers from arcane research. Several of them appeared to be recent publications from the wizards in Torrian Tower.

    Mirian spent nearly an hour looking over his math and pointing out errors when she found them.

    ¡°So what¡¯s next?¡± she finally asked, as the hour grew late.

    ¡°Years of work. Maybe decades,¡± he said. ¡°The Tlaxhuaco have never seen reason to quantify the runic system or find conversion ratios. Nor have the Luminates, at least as far as I can tell in the research I¡¯ve done.¡±

    ¡°The energies must be fundamentally different, if the catalysts required to access them are different.¡±

    ¡°Different, yes, but there has to be a transformative equation that describes it. How else does the soul produce auric mana?¡±

    ¡°That assumes it does. I don¡¯t think the scholarship quite agrees on that. It¡¯s the leading hypothesis, since ambient mana and auric mana seem to repel each other, but¡­.¡±

    Xipuatl sighed. ¡°That¡¯s the other problem. If the other fields were actually solved, this would be so much easier. Also, I don¡¯t think looking into the auras and souls of people will be the easiest, since people are so messy and inconsistent. Sure, they can give you subjective input, but even a practiced arcanist will never output perfectly consistent energy levels. My first measurements have been plants.¡±

    ¡°You built something already! May I see?¡±

    ¡°I suppose so. You¡¯ve seen this much.¡± The device was in another room, this one full of artificer¡¯s tools. The whole setup made Mirian jealous¡ªshe would have loved to have her own personal crafting room. Xipuatl removed a cloth that was covering a large lumpy object on one of the tables.

    The device resembled a tree stump, with densely packed wooden rods covered in symbols forming a circle around a mess of tangled wires, both silver and gold. Mirian studied the symbols carved into it. Unlike glyphs, which shimmered faintly with bright color pairs, the runes glowed a steady silver, like moonlight.

    ¡°What¡¯s it do?¡± she asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s the problem. It doesn¡¯t do anything.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Well what¡¯s it supposed to do?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s supposed to measure a soul-spell. I can¡¯t even begin to diagnose the problem, though. And the problem is¡ªno one else can either. Tlaxhuaco hasn¡¯t applied modern artifice to their magic, and no one is allowed to study it here.¡±

    ¡°Unless you teach me,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Which,¡± Xipuatl said with a sigh, ¡°I am in no way qualified to do. And probably shouldn¡¯t do. But¡­¡±

    Mirian understood. If he was right, it really was a theory that might revolutionize the way magic was understood. She still wasn¡¯t convinced he was right, but what did she have to lose by exploring it? ¡°I¡¯m committed,¡± she said. ¡°And when I commit to something, I don¡¯t back down.¡± He didn¡¯t know just how much time he did have to teach her.

    ***

    She spent the rest of the cycle on the tasks she had set for herself. Xipuatl refused to teach her how the celestial runes were made, so she spent time memorizing their form and function, continuing to dig through his equations and statistics, and meditating. Magic had never felt easy to her, but for some reason, this kind did. The more she examined her soul, the more she was convinced she was right; something had burrowed into it. It was concerning, but then again, wouldn¡¯t that disappear when the loop reset again?

    Illusion Spells began to bore her. So had Artifice Design. She would need to keep the Physics and Spell Engine classes to continue her research with Xipuatl in the next cycle, but too little of her time was spent getting Torres to tell her design improvements and tips. That freed up two classes in the next cycle. Combat Magic, she would keep. Nothing could replace rote practice.

    On the 21st of Solen, she walked to the spellward towers. The barrier was intact. The next evening, it was gone. Again, she wasn¡¯t sure if it was sabotage or the arcane eruptions south of them, but the timing lined up with the latter. She¡¯d narrow down the window further next cycle.

    The day before the Akanan attack, she spent the evening with Selesia. It would have been an overstatement to say her Eskanar was getting good, but like soul magic, she seemed to have a natural knack for languages. She could say a few simple phrases, and understand most of what Selesia said when she switched to Eskanar.

    Together, they walked to Torrviol Lake. The setting sun scattered sparkling flames across the waters, and when they turned, the town was silhouetted by the red horizon, the sky bright with orange-brushed clouds hanging over the distant hills.

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± Selesia said, smiling.

    ¡°It is,¡± Mirian said, though when she saw the majestic Torrian Tower back-lit by the dusk, all she could think was, it shatters tomorrow. The city is razed, and you die with it. And I can¡¯t stop it. It still seemed impossible¡ªand yet, she had to find a way.

    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    They ate dinner together, and held hands as they walked back to the dorms. ¡°I¡¯ll see you tomorrow,¡± Mirian said again. The lie tasted just as bitter as the last time, but she couldn¡¯t bring herself to tell her the horrible truth.

    ***

    This time, Mirian set up the crates she¡¯d need to climb up the latrine shaft into Bainrose a day early and stabilized the crates with shape wood and the ground with shape stone. This meant she was watching from the parapet when Torrian Tower was bisected. The cascading explosions illuminated the approaching army. Mirian watched, noting how and where formations moved. This time, she left the spy atop the southeast tower alive. She wanted to see what he did.

    In the northern forest, she could see faint flashes of light and movement around a certain area. Probably near another entrance to the northern catacombs. It was too dark and distant to pinpoint the entrance. She hoped bog lions ate them all.

    Mirian continued to watch the scene unfold, creeping anger building as she watched the soldiers brutalize and murder the people they found. To their credit, the Torrviol guard that hadn¡¯t fled with their captain tried to rally east of the plaza, but was quickly annihilated by attacks from wands and rifles on three sides. The Baracuel military was thrown back just as quickly, and that was before the airships arrived. She watched them, the two looming dreadnoughts, as they drifted over Torrviol. Soon enough, the colossal hulls were just above them. Two volleys erupted from their broadside towards the trains. The Baracuel Army wasn¡¯t even going to get a chance to unload most of their soldiers and weapons.

    Mirian was watching for the spy to give some sort of signal towards the soldiers on the ground. When he raised his wand though, it was toward the sky.

    He signals the airships, she realized. Shortly after, long ropes came down from the side of the north-most airship that was hovering over Bainrose. The ship to the south was turning counterclockwise to aim another broadside southwest. Mirian opened up her spellbook and crouched down. What she was about to do was stupid, and she wasn¡¯t even sure what she hoped to accomplish¡ªbut there was no way she could pass up this opportunity.

    She¡¯d seen enough Akanan soldiers at this point to have a good idea of their uniforms. She cast major disguise, then stood by one of the ropes. Sure enough, soldiers began to rappel downward, one on each of the dozen ropes, lining the entire battlement. It was clear that Bainrose Castle was the most critical objective they were to seize. Interesting that they would rather destroy Torrian Tower than plunder its research and technology.

    Mentally, Mirian rehearsed what she would say in Eskanar, trying to remember the correct conjugation of the verb.

    Mirian took a deep breath as one of the soldiers landed by her, rifle slung over his shoulder. ¡°Hello,¡± she said, which sent the soldier into a cursing fit, his words too fast for her to pick up more than that.

    ¡°East battlement. You¡¯re supposed to stand on the east battlement you idiot!¡± he finally shouted.

    ¡°Sorry. I have an important message to deliver. Concerns Bainrose. Can it¡­?¡± she asked, gesturing at the rope. She could only imply ¡®can it take me up to the airship?¡¯ because she didn¡¯t have the vocabulary to actually say it. Her accent was horrible, and her disguise spell barely acceptable, but the gunfire and the faint light was covering for her inadequacies.

    The soldier handed her the rope hesitantly, looking her up and down.

    She took it, then stood awkwardly.

    ¡°Three tugs,¡± he said finally.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, and forced a smile. She pulled on the rope, then hung on for dear life.

    The ascent was incredible, and she felt her heart flutter with exhilaration. It was like she was flying. The air rushed by her, and Torrviol shrunk until the people were just tiny dots and the flashes and gunfire were soft and distant.

    She found herself dangling in the air, looking at a spell-engine powered winch being operated by two surprised soldiers. The winch crane arm retracted, bringing her to the deck, where she gratefully let go and clutched the side rail.

    ¡°What¡¯s the meaning of this?¡± asked one.

    ¡°Important message about Bainrose,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°You¡¯re not Third Company. Who are you with?¡±

    She hesitated, trying to find the right words. ¡°Spies,¡± she said. Then, ¡°Two.¡±

    ¡°Two? What? You mean Second Infiltration Corps?¡±

    Infiltration, that¡¯s the word, Mirian remembered. ¡°Yes.¡±

    That was the wrong answer. The first soldier pulled out a pistol, and the second a wand. They both leveled them.

    ¡°Second¡¯s not here, they¡¯re down in Palendurio. Who are you really?¡±

    One of the commanding officers shouted something, though the wind whipping by them made it hard to hear and Mirian couldn¡¯t understand.

    ¡°Possible enemy spy, sir,¡± the first soldier responded. To her he said, ¡°What¡¯s the code phrase?¡±

    Mirian threw her satchel at him, aiming to knock the gun aside, and drew her minor lightning wand. She dove to the side as the second soldier sent a cone of flame her way, letting the illusion spell drop to save mana. As she stood, she sent a wild bolt of lightning his way, then sprinted down the deck.

    The top of the airship was like a town in miniature. Wood structures lined the center of it, with narrow alleys that let people easily pass from port to starboard. Along the deck were the winches that had dropped the assault team, and further along, an assortment of medium gun turrets on steel platforms that could swivel. Mirian only got a glance at all of it before she ducked between one of those thin passages between the structures. There was a lot of shouting in Eskanar behind her, then a gunshot, but she heard the bullet ping! off something that, importantly, wasn¡¯t her.

    Adrenaline had her sprinting hard. She emerged to the other side of the ship, but even with the cacophony of the ships guns below decks and the harsh winds above, the commotion attracted looks. It took people a moment to react. One man was looking down at the battlefield with binoculars, and only after he lowered them at stared did he realize what he was staring at. By the time he reached to grab her arm, she was already five feet past him. Another was bringing up a set of signal flags that seemed to be meant for the other ship and just turned and watched her go by. She heard another shot go off. This time, the bullet was so close to her head she heard the damn thing whistle by. She skidded to a stop and careened down another of the passages, this one between two rooms that were both full of wires and arcane consoles.

    She heard the phrase ¡°split up!¡± shouted, so that was probably the last time that trick would work.

    As she rounded the corner, she saw a steel ladder to her right and took it, which led to a series of catwalks that linked the second story of the wooden superstructures on the ship. Again, she saw strange devices covered in glyphs and wires, and shocked faces who seemed totally unprepared for an idiot student from Torrviol to be sprinting past them.

    There was a large structure at the end of the walkways, with large windows looking out at the rest of the ship. Mirian knew basically nothing about ships, floating or flying, but it seemed to her a larger building was easier to hide in. She burst in, then froze.

    Obviously, this was not just some random storage shed. Dozens of soldiers worked various magical devices, hitting glyphs, adjusting dials, and pulling levers. Mirian hadn¡¯t the slightest idea of what any of it did, but it was clear she¡¯d just stumbled onto a major control center of the ship.

    All these dozens of soldiers turned to face where the door had just slammed open.

    Near the back, on an elevated platform was a woman dressed in a more ornate uniform than she¡¯d seen. The jacket was embroidered with gold thread and five golden buttons across the breast. She wore a peaked cap with the double-headed eagle of Akana over her short blond and silver-streaked hair.

    Mirian didn¡¯t know a lot about the Akanan military, but even she could tell this was someone of high rank. Behind her, she heard the shouting of the crew that was pursuing her. They¡¯d spread out across the catwalks, and she couldn¡¯t see a way back. She realized she¡¯d just reached the end of her line.

    ¡°Marshal Cearsia?¡± one of the men next to her asked. There were three of them, each wearing fancy peaked caps of their own. Two of them had recovered their composure, while the third, a younger man with brownish hair and a slight build, stared at her open mouthed, eyes wide as a fish.

    This Marshal Cearsia reacted before she spoke. The spellbook chained to her belt took on a glow as it rose up in front of her, and the pages flipped open by themselves. Mirian found herself wrapped about in force chains before she could move, and the wand she was still carrying was torn from her grasp so that it skidded across the polished wooden floor. ¡°Clearly, I must handle this because my subordinates cannot. Command staff, back to work.¡± Her voice was forceful and melodious. The Akanans at their stations went back to their work, ignoring Mirian.

    Cearsia¡¯s spellbook snapped shut, then gently floated to her side again. Mirian had heard of arcanists who could use telekinetic spells to manipulate their spellbooks with perfect mental dexterity. She¡¯d seen Viridian do something similar that first cycle, but not on this level. The marshal was clearly not just an elite officer, but a master arcanist in her own right.

    ¡°We should interrogate her,¡± the wide-eyed man up on the platform blurted out.

    Cearsia¡¯s eyes snapped toward him and he took a step back. ¡°I did not give you leave to speak.¡± She looked at the soldiers behind Mirian. ¡°My subordinates will debrief you on this security breach. Remove this vermin. I have a war to win.¡±

    ¡°It won¡¯t matter. The world ends in four days. I need your help stopping it.¡± Mirian knew she¡¯d messed up at least a few of the conjugations, but the gist of the message was clear.

    ¡°I am not in the mood to hear these Baracueli traitors mangle my language. She flew up? Let her fly down.¡±

    Mirian gulped, but the force chains still held her fast. As the soldiers dragged her out of the room, she said, ¡°No one in Torrviol betrayed anyone!¡± she yelled in Friian. ¡°You murder innocents! Five hells take you!¡±

    She stopped shouting by the time she¡¯d left the room. The soldiers gave her grim looks, and handled her like she was dangerous to touch, but they didn¡¯t speak to her. When they tossed her over the side of the airship, she didn¡¯t scream. She stayed silent as she plummeted back down towards Bainrose, back down to that gyre of death and fear¡ªback down to Torrviol.

    She met her death with eyes open.

 Chapter 46 - Cycles and Spies

    When she started dreaming, Mirian was shocked. She hadn¡¯t realized there was any sort of time that passed between her deaths and the loop resetting. That she found herself in a dream meant that there was, which was almost as strange as the dream itself.

    She was drifting in an ocean, lingering in the depths while looking up at the shimmering sun-bright waters above. The hulls of huge ships dotted the water. All around her, the waters blackened and bubbled, and she realized the sea floor was not made of silt and stone, but bones and blinking eyes, and as the water churned, great tentacles thrashed about, stirring up a black ink that seemed to contain screaming faces within it. Above, a massive anchor came down, slamming into the writhing mass, and she heard an otherworldly scream rise and echo in the depths. Mirian swam for the surface, and as she did, more anchors came down, shooting into the sea floor like meteors. The sea became choked with dust, and the thick chains leading to the ships above went taut.

    She saw a sundial, the white marble brilliant in the sunlight, and then a needle fell from the sky and pierced the gnomon, making the shadow it had cast splash into writhing smoke. The smoke rose, until the sun turned red and the sky bled.

    She saw Torrviol, the sky overcast, but instead of rain coming down, it was the hands of clocks, spearing the soil, sparking as they hit paving stones, slicing into roof tiles. Where they struck, tiny disembodied hands crawled away from the craters like spiders. As the clouds parted, Mirian saw the moon above, only it wasn¡¯t the moon, but a blinking eye, haloed by tendrils that crawled across the sky, searching.

    She saw stone pillars erupting from the earth, and people made of pincushions fleeing about in panic. The clouds of ash the sharp stones kicked up coalesced into metallic needles, which in turn soared through the sky like birds, searching, until they dove into the pincushion people. When they struck, though, the doll-like people didn¡¯t look injured, they looked enraptured. Their button-like eyes turned to the sky, where the moon-eye still looked about the land.

    She looked down at herself, and she saw one of the needles had pierced her own heart. Only, when she tried to examine the needle, it changed as she looked at it. It became a clock hand, then a ship anchor, then the marble gnomon of the sundial, then a needle again, until somehow it was all of those things at once¡ªand she looked up to see the giant eye in the heavens looking at her.

    ***

    Mirian woke with a start, breathing hard. She had to clutch the bedsheets to make sure she wasn¡¯t still falling. She looked over, where Lily still slept, and sighed. Some days, she was envious of the blissful ignorance everyone else languished in¡ªbut not all the pain and fear that would come with their end. Even that hateful marshal, Cearsia, must have despaired in the end.

    Not that it made her any less of a monster. So that¡¯s the face of the invasion, she thought. And they think that Baracuel is full of traitors. And yet, they¡¯ve been planning this for¡­ years, it seems. Did they really believe it, or was it just a lie they told themselves? Either way, too much still didn¡¯t add up.

    This time, Mirian was already in the gardens by Myrvite Studies when the second spy passed her. He¡¯d come from the southern-eastern path, she saw. She noted the features of his surprised face again when she said, ¡°Nice day for a walk, isn¡¯t it?¡± in Eskanar. He glared at her, then walked by faster.

    By Firstday, Mirian was ready to learn more about what happened to Professor Jei. She cast the minor disguise spell that she¡¯d hastily scribed the night before and waited in Bainrose for the professor to pass her. She immediately saw what her mistake last cycle had been; Jei didn¡¯t head for the basement. She headed for the third floor and let herself into the inner archives of the library, where students weren¡¯t allowed. That was going to be a problem.

    She replaced her Illusions class with Divination 201, and near the end of the cycle, she examined the doors and stoneworks leading into Bainrose¡¯s archive. Sure enough, they were warded against divination; her amateur efforts at a seeker-stone were a dead-end effort.

    Mirian had replaced Artifice Design with Applied Spellcasting 203, and got Lily to give her all the notes she had taken in that class when she¡¯d taken it two years back.

    ¡°It¡¯s a little late to think about switching focuses,¡± Lily had warned when she¡¯d found out what Mirian¡¯s class schedule was.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m just looking for ways to add to my artifice degree,¡± she¡¯d said.

    Xipuatl continued his instruction in soul magic. She continued her relationship with Selesia. This time, when the spellward around Torrviol failed, she was waiting outside the south tower. As best she could tell, it was about when the arcane eruptions near Cairnmouth had occurred. That any evacuation of Torrviol would get entangled by myrvite encroachments seemed to just be bad luck.

    Of course, it wasn¡¯t the only thing. It seemed like everything was stacked against their survival, and that was before the moon started coming down. She would save her friends, though. She¡¯d find some way. Or else, what was the point?

    At the end of the cycle, she summited Bainrose again, but this time, the soldier who rappelled down was put off by something, and shot her instead. She bled out slowly on the ramparts, listening to the echo of guns tearing apart her home.

    ***

    The memory of the pain lingered in her. Her mind kept going over the agony of it, like a tongue probing a mouth sore. In the end, it was only meditation that could clear her mind, which she did in the garden by the Myrvite Studies building. She let the soft drizzle and tentative birdsong ground her in the present. After that, she lingered on a bench near the corner of the garden and saw the spy heading from one of the paths by Torrviol Lake. She mentally marked the point.

    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    When she wasn¡¯t studying, practicing, scribing, or crafting, Mirian lurked around the second floor of Bainrose, cautiously testing the wards and locks leading to the third floor with divination spells. The problem was the wards were crafted to resist or nullify common divination tactics, which sent her back down the basement levels to scour the shelves for more creative methods than the class textbooks would teach her.

    She also worked on incorporating what she was learning in Applied Spellcasting in the practice sessions in Combat Magic. After her certification, she modified the minor lightning wand to incorporate a socket. In that socket, she could add different modules. According to Professor Cassius, this is what a new generation of combat sorcerers were using in the battles with Persaman guerrillas. Fitting the glyphs into something small enough to fit on a wand required practicing the new techniques of glyph miniaturization she¡¯d previously learned about from Torres, which would in turn be useful in making a proper seeker-stone later.

    On the range, Daith was suitably impressed by her work, though adding the function lowered the resulting spell intensity. Right now, she was only adding modules that did things like increase aura penetration, making it more likely that a target was temporarily paralyzed, or another glyph set that changed the color of the lightning (which was nifty, but almost completely useless). The more complicated glyphs that Lily was working with might let her bounce the lightning from one target to another, or cause the lightning to rapidly convert to heat energy in the target, which might be useful against that horrid chimera she¡¯d fought in the catacombs.

    Her progress was slow, but steady. Eventually, she might be able to unlock a heavily warded door or win a duel against one of the spies (without sneaking up on them while they were distracted by a pitched battle), but she needed more time. Fortunately, that was what she had.

    She studied the celestial runes again with Xipuatl. She caught Valen sneaking about following her, though the girl was predictably unrepentant. She died on the walls of Bainrose again.

    ***

    It took Mirian four more loops to finish tracing the route the second spy took. It might have only taken three, but she hadn¡¯t realized she¡¯d need to skip the end of Alchemistry to make it in time. The spy took a ridiculously circuitous route. On that twelfth cycle, though, she finally found it: the building the spies were using.

    It was an unremarkable door set inside an unremarkable building, one block south of the prison and one block north of the train station. In retrospect, it was the most obvious place. It had a good view of the station, so they could watch people and goods come and go from Torrviol. It was near the guardhouse, so they had quick access to the corrupt captain. It was near the edge of town, so they could easily avoid the street lamps if they wanted. Mirian also suspected it was near one of the secret passages leading to the underground, since she¡¯d seen Akanan soldiers suddenly emerge in the area as the attack on Torrviol progressed.

    The building next to it seemed to have an absentee landlord, and was boarded up, so the first floor apartment the spies were using also having boarded up windows didn¡¯t draw any attention. Mirian had walked right by the place on her way to or from the train dozens of times before the time loop had started and never looked twice at it. After she watched the spy emerge from it, she spent some time examining the building, looking for any other entrances or exits. She noticed that Roland, the guard who patrolled by the train station, passed by the building frequently, and when he wasn¡¯t on patrol, his spot on the platform allowed him to look down the street and see the entrance of the building. That made it annoying to try and cast any of the divination spells she¡¯d need to test its wards during the day. That, and the constant foot traffic, since even when the train wasn¡¯t running, the crates and goods they¡¯d offloaded were still being moved about town by people with wagons and carts.

    She eventually found a time at night when no guard was on patrol, though only when the midnight train wasn¡¯t scheduled. Then she could finally open up her spellbook and cast spells without anyone wondering what she was doing. Mirian was surprised to detect few glyphs or wards. There were the usual ones that strengthened the door, and a magnetic repulsion ward on the lock to prevent easy picking (though a good thief would just use a non-magnetic pick set), but nothing else she could detect.

    She was about to try using lift object to carefully align the tumblers in the lock when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Hastily, she closed her spellbook. Was it a guard? One of the spies?

    Then she caught a glimpse of the figure as she ducked into an alley.

    Of course. Valen.

    Mirian quickly walked to the alley, where she nearly tripped over Valen, who was squatting down next to a barrel. Valen cleared her throat and stood, apparently pretending she hadn¡¯t just been hiding all of three seconds ago.

    ¡°What on Enteria are you doing?¡± Mirian hissed, standing close to her so she couldn¡¯t just walk off.

    ¡°I could ask the same thing of you, but one of us has class,¡± the other girl said, not even a hint of penitence for following Mirian in dark alleys past midnight.

    ¡°Gods above, you are so full of shit! How do you manage it?¡±

    ¡°Takes one to know one, I suppose,¡± Valen said. ¡°If I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d say you were casing that house. Only, I can¡¯t figure why that one, because you don¡¯t board up the windows if you¡¯re still living there.¡±

    Mirian couldn¡¯t think of a reasonable lie, and Valen always seemed to know when she was fibbing anyways. ¡°It¡¯s packed full of Akanan spies,¡± she said.

    That actually shook Valen off her game. ¡°Wait¡­ what? Really, are you¡ªwait, why would you tell me that?¡±

    ¡°I need you to know what I¡¯m doing is important so you don¡¯t go blabbing about it to the whole Academy. Which I know you would otherwise do.¡±

    Valen blinked a few times, and Mirian realized it was probably slightly uncomfortable for the other girl to have her neck tilted up, so she took a step back. The girl finally asked, ¡°Are you¡­ one of the Deeps?¡±

    ¡°Obviously not,¡± Mirian said, then when that got a smirk from Valen, she realized that was exactly what someone from the Department of Public Security would say.

    ¡°That explains¡­¡± Valen started, but trailed off.

    ¡°Exactly how long have you been trailing me?¡±

    ¡°Ever since you started acting really strange. All of a sudden you¡¯re skipping classes, visiting the crafting shops at odd hours to make questionable devices, taking out improbably large loans, sneaking about at odd hours¡ªyou¡¯re terrible, you know that? Anyone trained to look for signs of an operative immediately would peg you as an asset. Whoever trained you should be fired.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°And who exactly trained you?¡±

    ¡°My dad,¡± Valen said with a shrug. ¡°Not on purpose. But when he got drunk, he wanted to tell someone all the stuff he got up to.¡±

    She thought about the situation. She wasn¡¯t properly prepared to burst in the front door tonight anyways. There was no point denying all the odd stuff Valen had clearly seen her doing. How do I salvage this? she wondered, and decided the best option was to go along with it. ¡°Listen, I¡¯m clearly in over my head. There wasn¡¯t supposed to be a nest of Akanan infiltrators here, and I¡¯m not getting back-up. They¡¯re too busy down south with another, uh, incident. Which I can¡¯t tell you about, so don¡¯t ask. I could¡­ uh¡­ use some help.¡±

    Valen¡¯s response was to give the biggest, most genuine smile she¡¯d ever seen on the girl. ¡°I¡¯m in. What do you need?¡±

    Huh, Mirian thought. It was not the response she¡¯d expected.

 Chapter 47 - Infiltration

    Of all the things Mirian thought she¡¯d learn this cycle, spycraft wasn¡¯t on the list, and Valen sure wasn¡¯t the one she thought would teach her. Valen, in Mirian¡¯s experience, was never particularly verbose, but she seemed to revel in two things: knowing things that other people didn¡¯t, and being able to lord that over Mirian.

    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe you didn¡¯t do a proper stakeout before I suggested it,¡± Valen said. ¡°You¡¯re really alone up here?¡±

    ¡°I told you I can¡¯t talk about it,¡± Mirian said, exaggerating the annoyance in her voice for dramatic effect.

    Over the past few days that she¡¯d been working with Valen, Mirian had discovered another truth of spycraft: it was boring as hell. She¡¯d had to spend hours paying attention to foot traffic, waiting for the exact minute someone entered or emerged from the door. She and Valen had done several shifts in the evening, which Mirian still couldn¡¯t believe Valen was willingly doing. Then, for some of the time, they¡¯d both be sitting on the same bench watching the door out of the corner of their eye while Valen would see a passing ox pulling a cart from the train and say something like, ¡°oh, it kind of looks like you!¡±

    Agony. But they had discovered that there were at least three spies using the apartment, and Mirian had recognized two of them. One was the rooftop guy she kept stealing from at the start of each cycle, and another the one she¡¯d been tracking over the past few cycles. The third one used his illusion spell a lot, but Mirian was pretty sure it was the guy who kept visiting Bainrose.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure they don¡¯t have another cell?¡± Valen said.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t seen any evidence of it,¡± Mirian replied. She had to admit, it was certainly a possibility. But wouldn¡¯t she have seen at least some sign of it before now? They didn¡¯t need a second spy cell because they had the guards essentially working for them.

    ¡°Did they teach you standard Akanan operations? Why am I asking, of course they didn¡¯t. The usual procedure of the Republic Intelligence Division is to deploy a minimum of two cells. One does the mission, and the other watches them do it. It doesn¡¯t¡­ either this is an unusual operation, or you¡¯re missing the second group. Or, it¡¯s not even officially government sanctioned. Are you sure it¡¯s sanctioned, and not, say, the Syndicates?¡±

    Mirian sighed. ¡°I¡¯m sure, and no, I can¡¯t tell you how I know.¡±

    The evening that they planned to actually break into the spy¡¯s building, Mirian was ambushed by someone she didn¡¯t expect: Lily.

    Her roommate came in just as Mirian was preparing to leave for their break-in, and said, ¡°Mirian, we need to talk.¡±

    ¡°Can it wait? I¡¯ve got this really important study session I need to get to.¡±

    ¡°Wait until when? Mirian, I hardly see you anymore. We don¡¯t talk. What¡­ what happened? Did I do something wrong?¡±

    Mirian¡¯s heart broke. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry.¡± It seemed impossible to explain. How did she tell her that they¡¯d already had those conversations, over and over again until she¡¯d grown sick of them? How did she say she¡¯d heard every story from class, heard about every letter from home, and heard every joke Lily had told during Solen ten times? It had been annoying at first, and then aggravating. When they talked, she was just going through the motions. Despite her efforts to put on a pleasant mask, Lily, who knew her best, had no-doubt seen through to the emotionless affect behind it. It wasn¡¯t fair to Lily. Her friend still felt, and thought, and dreamed and lived¡ªeach iteration. Only, this version of her was damned to die in a few days. Nothing could stop that. ¡°You didn¡¯t do anything wrong,¡± she finally said, seeing the pain that was in Lily¡¯s eyes. ¡°I just¡­ I can¡¯t explain it. You¡¯ve always been and will always be my friend. So don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m just¡ªI¡¯m going to be busy. For a long time. It has to be me; there¡¯s no one else. I know it doesn¡¯t make sense. Maybe someday it will. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Lily said, ¡°What¡­ Mirian, but what is it? Why¡ª?¡±

    Mirian thought about telling her in a few days, it¡¯ll be the apocalypse again. That¡¯s my life now. It had been her life for nearly a year now, she realized. What did that mean? Was she older now? Should she have celebrated her 23rd birthday? She just said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± again, and maybe Lily heard that raw pain turning into tears. She turned and left.

    When she met Valen in one of the east alleys, she helpfully said, ¡°Well someone had a bad evening.¡±

    Mirian felt her sadness boil away to fury. ¡°Don¡¯t start. I¡¯m not in the mood.¡±

    Valen sighed. ¡°You¡¯re never in the mood. Always wound up tighter than a crossbow string, and about as resilient.¡±

    Mirian thought about the time she¡¯d slammed the other girl into the alley wall, and how good it had felt. Instead, she said, ¡°You have no idea. And you should be thankful you never will. Let¡¯s stay focused.¡± That last part was more to herself; she hated to see Lily hurting. Their friendship meant everything to her.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Valen rolled her eyes.

    The plan was relatively simple. The spies liked to go out at night. That meant late evening was the time to break in. The cold nights meant people would be keeping indoors, where it was warm.

    Already, knowing where they started was going to be helpful in future loops. Mirian had lost track of their movements for the most part, but now she could start to figure out all the different places they were targeting and why they were important. Maybe she¡¯d find some part of the underground she hadn¡¯t mapped, or a secret way into Bainrose. But actually getting to see the inside of their base? She was intensely curious as to what they would find.

    Valen had volunteered to do the lockpicking. She had with her a set of brass picks (she¡¯d already owned them, go figure) and had been honing the skill for years. Mirian would be the lookout, until they were inside. Then she¡¯d be on divination duty, looking for any traps. Valen had assured her there would definitely be traps.

    Even though Mirian logically knew this was a fairly consequence-free break-in for her, she was still nervous. The primitive part of her brain didn¡¯t seem to care that no one who might catch them would be alive by the 4th of Duala. Valen was surprisingly calm about it, even though she had no such foreknowledge. Then again, while Valen had said she¡¯d never actually broken into any buildings before, Mirian was pretty sure she was full of it. She was just way too comfortable hunched over the lock, feeling for the tumblers with her pick. Her hands didn¡¯t even have the slightest tremble.

    ¡°Got it,¡± Valen whispered. She pressed down on the latch, then slowly opened the door just a crack. She listened cautiously, then continued to slowly open the door.

    Mirian looked down the street again to see if it was still deserted. Then she opened up her spellbook and started casting. She went through several divination spells, but none of them detected any major glyph formations, just the usual ones used in construction. ¡°Clear,¡± she said, and stepped into the entryway.

    It was a small anteroom, with three pegs to hang cloaks and a wooden floor instead of the usual stone tile. The room was compact, and lightless, but there was another door at the end of it, and it looked a lot sturdier. She cast another divination spell to search for common trigger glyphs on the handle or latch, and found nothing.

    There didn¡¯t appear to be a lock on the inner door, so she turned the handle¡ª

    ¡ªand her heart skipped a beat as the floor dropped out from under her. Then she was screaming in pain, her body crumpled among a bunch of wooden stakes.

    ¡°Mirian!¡± Valen called out, panicked.

    She might have said something else, too, but all Mirian could think about was the pain. The stakes weren¡¯t sharp, but she¡¯d slammed down on them from six feet up and everything hurt. She was nauseous, and she was sure something was broken. Maybe several somethings. For a moment, she blacked out, then the pain snapped her awake again. Two of the stakes were still digging into her back.

    She groaned, and was able to roll over so that she fell face-down into the stone floor between the stakes. These psychotic fucking Akanans. They couldn¡¯t just design a trap to imprison someone, they had to make it hurt, too, didn¡¯t they?

    Other thoughts tried to make their way to the front of her mind, but they kept getting battered down by how much it hurt. She looked up and couldn¡¯t see Valen. She¡¯d probably run off. It was the smart thing to do. There was no way she could haul Mirian up on her own, especially given that her left arm seemed to be broken. Another wave of nausea swept over her.

    When she looked up again, she saw the first spy, the one she kept taking the satchel from each cycle.

    ¡°You,¡± he said in Eskanar, apparently recognizing her as well.

    A chill ran through Mirian. Trapped as she was, already inside the spy¡¯s building, they could do anything to her. Captain Mandez had kept her starved and shivering, and that was in an official guard house. The terrible possibilities of what they might do to her in the days remaining ran through her mind. She couldn¡¯t let it happen. She didn¡¯t want to live with whatever they were going to do.

    ¡°You Akanan scum,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve already killed one of you. You¡¯ll just have to join him.¡± Then she reached for her wand.

    The minor lightning wand wouldn¡¯t have done much to the spy, but he didn¡¯t know that. When he saw the wand come out, he did what she wanted. He reacted by drawing his own wand, and this was a proper lightning wand, one that could kill.

    Briefly, she felt another burst of pain, and then nothing.

    ***

    Mirian woke, and felt terrible relief to be staring up at the dorm ceiling, the tiny hole faintly glinting. It was beautiful to be free of the pain, terrible because of a thought she kept having. Ever since she¡¯d watched the true end of the world, past the invasion of Torrviol, she¡¯d wondered: did the timeline persist after she died? Or did it cease when her consciousness did? She hoped it didn¡¯t. She¡¯d just left a hell of a mess back there if it did.

    As she went about fixing the usual things and readying herself for another day at the beginning, she thought about what had happened. It was bullshit is what it was. She¡¯d checked for magical traps over and over and there¡¯d been¡ªand then she figured out the problem. She¡¯d checked for magical traps. They¡¯d gone and made a trap with a purely mechanical mechanism. Of course. It was a town of arcanists and magic; everyone would be on the lookout for that.

    Then she¡¯d seen that damned spy looking down at her, not even a hint of remorse on his face. The anger bubbled about in her as she waited in the alley for him to jump across the roof again. This time, when she pulled with lift object on his bag, that anger found its way into the intensity of the spell. She put in far more mana than she usually did, and yanked hard.

    To her horror, the spy didn¡¯t just pinwheel his arms and regain his balance like usual¡ªno, his back foot slipped. For a moment, he seemed to hang in the air between the two buildings, then he came plummeting down, landing next to Mirian with a CRUNCH of bone that made her heart skip.

    Oh shit, she thought. This loop ought to be different.

 Chapter 48 - Something Different

    There was no hiding what just happened. Mirian had already attracted a few strange looks when she¡¯d started casting in the alley. Then there was the loud crack of the body hitting the paving stones, and then the contents of the spy¡¯s satchel had spilled out across the pavement into the street. Now Mirian was standing next to a very obviously dead body, with a crowd of students staring at her, gaping.

    Mirian thought fast. She needed to act surprised. That was easy, she was surprised. ¡°Holy shit!¡± she said. Brilliant, she thought.

    ¡°I was¡­ I was just trying to¡­ I was trying to¡­.¡± she stammered, and she was only half-faking it. Her brain was racing with what do I say, I can¡¯t fuck up the cycle this fast! She could kill herself; it was an option. But if the cycle only truly reset when the Divir moon fell¡ªshe couldn¡¯t do that to Lily. She needed an excuse that made sense.

    By now, the guard from the plaza had run over. ¡°Move aside,¡± he commanded, pushing a first year who was too slow to react out of the way.

    ¡°My friend¡ªuh, my friend said they put my bag on the roof, as a prank, and so I was getting it with lift object but the¡ªand it just fell! I swear it wasn¡¯t me!¡± Mirian blurted out. It wasn¡¯t a great lie, but it was plausible. Was it plausible?

    The guard wasn¡¯t even looking at Mirian though. He was better at hiding his shock then the students gathered around, but his gaze was fixed on the dead spy, and his eyes were wide. He knows him.

    Then, to Mirian¡¯s surprise, Professor Seneca joined the crowd. ¡°Bertrus, what¡¯s going¡ªoh my,¡± she said, noticing the body. But before that, she¡¯d been talking to the guard. Wait, how does Professor Seneca know the plaza guard?

    The crowd around the alley was growing. Mirian could hear that more guards had shown up near the back and were trying to get a clear path through it. Mirian felt the panic rising. Just a moment ago, she¡¯d been thinking that logically there weren¡¯t any consequences to the break-in, and then she¡¯d gone and felt the worst pain of her life. That memory would live forever in her now. Worse could happen to her now if she didn¡¯t get this right.

    ¡°Professor! Someone put my bag on the roof because¡ªwell, anyways, it was on the roof. And when I pulled it down with a spell, there was¡­ he just came down! I didn¡¯t¡ªyou have to believe me!¡± She had to get Seneca to believe her. If it was just up to the guards, they¡¯d cover it up like they did when that other spy was captured.

    Professor Senca said, ¡°It¡¯s okay Mirian. I¡¯m sure the investigation will¡ªwait. Bertrus, those are Academy glyph keys. Why did this man have Academy keys?¡± Sure enough, when the satchel had disgorged its contents, it had scattered the three keys too.

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know, Sefora. But I¡¯ll get to the bottom of this.¡±

    ¡°Like the other investigations?¡±

    That¡¯s right, Mirian remembered. There¡¯d been loads of break-ins. Every professor probably knew about them, and knew they weren¡¯t getting properly investigated. She needed to leverage that this cycle.

    But as she was contemplating what she needed to do next, Mirian realized she wasn¡¯t the focus she thought she was. The guard¡ªBertrus, apparently¡ªand Seneca were staring at each other. Then Seneca picked up the scroll that was next to the glyph keys and also unrolled it. She blinked, no doubt recognizing the Eskanar script.

    ¡°This might explain¡­ quite a bit,¡± Seneca said, handing it to him. ¡°If you need someone to assist on the cryptography, I know someone who can help.¡±

    The Akanans probably know too, Mirian thought. I have to make sure Professor Jei is protected this cycle. Somehow, she¡¯d stumbled on a new path she¡¯d never considered. Perhaps she¡¯d spent too much time looking for magical solutions to problems better solved by people.

    Surreptitiously, Mirian inched away from the body and closer toward the crowd.

    ¡°Alright everyone, move back. Move back!¡± Bertrus called. By now, three other guards had arrived to the front, and were none-too-gently urging students along. ¡°You all have classes to get to. Move along! Not you,¡± he said to a group near the front, and he grabbed onto Myrian¡¯s cloak. ¡°I need witness statements. You all saw it?¡±

    To Mirian¡¯s surprise, Seneca stayed there, even though the belltower was chiming on the hour. ¡°Tell the class I¡¯ll be delayed,¡± she told one of the students as they headed inside.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    With four guards and four students, they all gave their statements simultaneously, repeating what they¡¯d seen in a big jumble. From what Mirian could hear, they¡¯d all seen her channeling a spell, then the body falling, but not much else. One thought they¡¯d heard a yelp before he fell. Three didn¡¯t. Then Mirian repeated her own story to him, heart still racing, but projecting some semblance of calm.

    ¡°I¡¯ll need to take you to the guard post,¡± he said when Mirian had finished, almost apologetically.

    It was Professor Seneca who said, ¡°No you don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Pardon?¡± the guard said, and his companions didn¡¯t seem to know how to react either.

    ¡°You know her name and description. You know where to find her. There¡¯s only one way out of Torrviol¡ªissue her a travel ban if you¡¯re worried she¡¯ll become a fugitive, but I highly doubt it. Right now, a bit of normalcy might be good for her. Mirian, go to class. Bertrus, we need to talk.¡±

    Whatever Mirian had expected, it hadn¡¯t been this. The guards stayed by the body, but they just watched as she walked into the Alchemistry building. The last thing Mirian saw, Seneca had raised a sound-nullifying barrier and was talking animatedly with Bertrus, gesturing at both the scroll and the keys.

    Mirian sat in the back of the lecture hall, trying to ignore all the whispering and glances her way. With Seneca still outside, the whole group of students had nothing to do but gossip. Scanning the room, she saw that Calisto had managed to sit next to Nicolus, who seemed to be doing his best to dissociate from the present. Mirian could empathize.

    It was likely her trainings with Xipuatl wouldn¡¯t happen this cycle. That was fine; she could routinely examine her soul even without the four harmonizing pillars in Xipuatl¡¯s meditation room. What else would change? It¡¯s likely the spies work together to ambush Jei in a normal cycle. Valen and I didn¡¯t see anyone else, and if there is, I need to learn about them anyways. If it¡¯s only one spy attacking Jei, I might be able to help her win. She needed to save Jei. That meant pausing her Applied Spellcasting work and taking Artifice Design again. But if she did it right, she could learn the contents of the cipher-scroll, learn more about the secret project, and learn how Professor Jei did artifice. All invaluable.

    I need to stop the second spy too. Given that that spy would leave for the Myrvite Studies building soon, it was likely that news of the first spy¡¯s death wouldn¡¯t reach him in time. The guards may have been willing to take bribes and cover for each other, but none of them had seemed eager to go report the incident to Captain Mandez.

    Thankfully, no one in class seemed to be able to work up the courage to talk to the weird loner girl who might have killed a man, so Mirian didn¡¯t have to muddle through any awkward conversations before Seneca showed up to teach.

    ¡°Apologies,¡± she said once she reached the front of the room. ¡°I¡¯ll skip the introductory material from previous classes, though you should not skip it in studying. Today I will only focus on the content from this class. As is tradition for events that may require it, the Academy will inform the Luminate Order, and should you wish to talk to a priest, they can lend both a listening ear and advice. If you don¡¯t know what I¡¯m talking about, don¡¯t worry. Now, the review.¡±

    Mirian left as soon as the class got out, immediately heading over to get a handful of brass filings from the student crafting center, then rushed to her next class.

    Valen was the only one to talk to her. ¡°Woah, it¡¯s Miss Murder. Anyone else on the hit list?¡± she said, which was both amazingly callous and quite impressive. How the hell had she heard about what had happened that fast? The girl was better informed than the Akanans.

    ¡°Shut up,¡± she hissed at Valen. ¡°And please don¡¯t talk directly at me. I don¡¯t want to die of poison.¡± That insult she¡¯d stolen from last cycle¡¯s Valen, so it felt right to dish it right back at her.

    When class was over, she ¡®discovered¡¯ the spy, whose key predictably jammed in the lock.

    ¡°Watch out! He has a lightning wand!¡± she screamed, which made the spy¡¯s eyes go wide, because he hadn¡¯t even pulled it out when she said it. When a dozen students and Professor Viridian rounded the corner, he also realized how fucked he was.

    When Bertrus and two other guards showed up, he saw Mirian and started. ¡°You again!¡± Then he looked at the spy¡ªwho was sitting down and bound by a force rope spell¡ªand Professor Viridian¡ªwho had the glyph key the spy had just tried to use. He blinked, looking back and forth between the spy and Mirian.

    Mirian was sitting in the corner with her head in her hands pretending to be miserable. ¡°Why does this keep happening to me? I¡¯m just trying to pass my exams!¡±

    The spy, for his part, was gazing intently at Bertrus.

    ¡°Alright, well, I need witness statements,¡± he said. Under his breath he muttered, ¡°Again.¡±

    ***

    The next day, after the Alchemistry exam, Professor Seneca motioned for Mirian to join her as she turned in her exam.

    First, she glanced over the exam. ¡°This is¡­ I wasn¡¯t even planning on grading section four because we didn¡¯t get to it in the review, but these transformations are all right. I wouldn¡¯t have believed it was you if I hadn¡¯t just watched you take it right now. Something clicked?¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mirian said, smiling. ¡°Yeah, I guess. Also I studied. A lot.¡± That was true, at least.

    ¡°Are you doing okay?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m trying not to think about it,¡± she said. Then she added, ¡°No.¡± It wasn¡¯t the death of the spy she was talking about, though. A day ago she¡¯d fallen into a pit trap. She¡¯d been shot to death, sliced apart, and watched her friends die horribly. But what else was there to do but bare it? The worst part was, it would all happen again.

    ¡°Do¡­ you want to talk about it?¡±

    ¡°Maybe later,¡± she said. After I save Professor Jei.

 Chapter 49 - Pursuit

    That weekend, she worked on a spellrod. She¡¯d still need to get wands ready for her combat class, but that could wait. She needed the flexibility and durability of a spellrod; it was far easier to incorporate spell enhancements into the glyph pathways. More, it would be necessary for some of the conversations she was planning on having if she succeeded.

    Big if. So much could go wrong.

    As she was using the lathe, Mirian caught a glimpse of Valen peering around a corner. That could be a spark in a grain silo, she thought. Or maybe a fireball. She wasn¡¯t sure what to do to get her to stop following her, though. Insults were about as good as invitations, and seemed to serve the same purpose. She adjusted the force shields around the lathe and got back to work.

    By noon on Seventhday, Mirian had attracted attention of several of the workers who ran the crafting stations, most notably, Ingrid, who had an expertise with just about every machine and tool and a good eye for technique. ¡°Who taught you your craft?¡± she asked.

    Well, I had your help was the honest answer, since Ingrid had offered plenty of tips and sessions for her in several of the previous cycles. ¡°My mom was a shop steward,¡± she said, which was at least adjacent to the truth.

    ¡°It¡¯s fine work. I could show you some pointers,¡± she said, which tended to be how the conversations with her always started.

    There was no point making excuses. The professors had to register projects that might use the crafting center with Ingrid directly, so she knew about every assignment, and had a nose for any bullshit story Mirian might try to tell. She just said, ¡°I¡¯ll definitely take you up on that later, thanks.¡±

    That wasn¡¯t how Ingrid, who had a reputation among the wizards for her incredible precision work, was usually talked to, and Mirian could sense her furrowed eyebrows even if she couldn¡¯t see them. ¡°Very well,¡± she said, but Mirian knew she would now be under Ingrid¡¯s scrutiny every time she came by. Which wasn¡¯t bad, it was just she was on a deadline. Professor Jei was scheduled to die tomorrow.

    ***

    Firstday, Mirian ran into a tripwire she¡¯d inadvertently set in front of herself. She was ready to pursue Jei as soon as the proctors took over. She had her spellrod sequestered in an inner pocket she¡¯d sewn into her uniform coat and the wooden block she¡¯d taken from the scrap pile all ready to go, and then Song Jei simply continued proctoring the exam.

    Either the death of the first spy or the capture of the second spy had done it. She vaguely recalled one of the cycles, Jei had also stayed to watch over the whole exam, but she didn¡¯t know why at the time. She didn¡¯t know why now, either, but she had a hunch. When did Torres get me? Thirdday, right? Shit, that¡¯s too long a timeframe. Now wasn¡¯t the time, though. If Jei was going to live, she needed to prepare for it, and that meant performing well enough on the exam that her success was difficult to explain. On the second half of the exam, she wrote her professor a note, saying ''Exactly half the information is missing.'' It was simple enough, but it showed she understood the problem in a way she doubted the other students did. Of course, they haven¡¯t had to suffer through the damned exam thirteen times.

    She handed in her exam early, then went outside to think. She tried to replay the various cycles and timelines of events. The disappearance had to happen with enough time that the registrar¡¯s office found out about it. She usually disappeared during the exam, in Bainrose. The spies loved Bainrose Castle for some reason. Maybe the ambush she was hypothesizing just happened slightly later? It was worth a shot.

    Or maybe there¡¯s more passages. Jei doesn¡¯t take the passage in Griffin Hall because the whole class is watching. But she would know about the ones going from Bainrose to the underground too. What if there¡¯s more than one passage down to those giant doors of stone?

    Mirian stood. She couldn¡¯t track Jei down in the underground. She still didn¡¯t know all the passages down there, and she sure as hell wasn¡¯t going to move silently enough that her professor wouldn¡¯t realize someone was behind her. Maybe if she had five more years to practice illusion spells she could maintain a silence zone and light distortion barrier well enough, but she thought she¡¯d probably go insane if she had to spend five more years taking classes in the Academy.

    She dashed back inside Griffin Hall. The last students were just handing in their exams. ¡°Professor,¡± she said, smiling. She¡¯d seen Jei actually eying the place where the secret door was. ¡°I just wanted to thank you for teaching us. Your class has been my favorite.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Jei in that thick accent of hers. ¡°You are smart student. I can tell because you ask questions. You will take my class next quarter.¡±

    ¡°Artifice Design,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Right? Of course I will. I can¡¯t wait!¡± She then stood there. Professor Jei clearly expected her to leave, but she needed to make sure she left out the front door. ¡°Uh, I had a question about the exam.¡±

    Jei rolled her eyes. ¡°Scale score. No crying,¡± she said again.

    ¡°Not that. I mean the second part. Was I¡­ I mean, I know you haven¡¯t looked at the exams yet, but was I right about the second section? That there¡¯s not enough information to actually come up with a pathway solution? You would need another set of four dimensional coordinates, or the energy doesn¡¯t create a circuit. Right?¡±

    That got Jei¡¯s attention. Her head snapped up and she looked at Mirian like she was trying to bore holes into her. ¡°Interesting idea. Why do you think so?¡±

    Mirian started to explain it, as best she could. She talked about the four dimensional paths she¡¯d sketched to try and better visualize it, and the energy transformation equations needing to be balanced, though she was only able to muddle through it. She¡¯d thought a lot about it, but she¡¯d never tried to tell anyone else. One time, she¡¯d tried to explain her second year of calculus to Lily, and Lily had looked at her like she¡¯d turned into a chimera and grown a second head. Trying to explain this math to her friend might have caused an intracranial hemorrhage.

    When Jei started walking out the front door, Mirian had to stop herself from shouting for joy. It had worked!

    Midway across the plaza, Jei¡¯s impatience was starting to become apparent. Finally, she interrupted Mirian. ¡°We will talk again soon. Now, I have appointment.¡± Then she said what probably meant ¡®goodbye¡¯ in Gulwenen, but to Mirian it was just a blur of pitched syllables.

    ¡°Thanks, professor. Good luck!¡± she said, and headed off as if she was going to her dorm. As she neared the fountain in the plaza, she paused. This time, Bertrus was in his usual spot, not in front of Bainrose like he usually was at this hour. From the way he was watching Professor Jei, though, Mirian was pretty sure he knew something. Or maybe not. There weren¡¯t a lot of Zhighuans in Torrviol, so she did attract stares.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Mirian moved so that the plaza fountain was between her and the guard and felt for her spellrod beneath her jacket. Wrapping her hand around the handle, she felt for the arcane catalyst. She¡¯d set it to minor disguise already, and cast it now. It wouldn¡¯t do to get Bertrus suspicious of her now; she still wasn¡¯t sure whose side he was on. A few people gave her odd glances as her hair changed to blond, but she¡¯d gotten used to that sort of thing. She set off quickly toward the castle, trying to find a balance between ¡®quick enough to catch up to Jei¡¯ and ¡®not so quick it would be weird.¡¯

    As she entered Bainrose, she realized that Jei had already quickened her own pace. Probably late to the meeting that would end in her death. She hurried to catch up, accidentally knocking a book out of a first year student¡¯s hand as she sped by. ¡°Sorry,¡± she called, but didn¡¯t slow down¡ªcouldn¡¯t slow down now. When she got to the tower¡¯s spiral staircase, she rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time, nearly colliding with another student.

    Just before she got to the third third floor, she could see a dozen steps up where Professor Jei¡¯s red coattails were disappearing through the shutting door.

    Mirian took out her spellrod like it was a rapier, spinning the lower dial clockwise. Then she gave the wooden block she¡¯d been carrying an underhand toss toward the door and channeled.

    The spike trap had gotten her thinking. Sometimes, one didn¡¯t need dozens of fancy divination spells to get a door open.

    With precision born of practice, she used lift object to wedge the wooden block between the door and frame, right where the latch would click. There was a crunching noise as the heavy door bit into the wood. Heart beating, Mirian approached the door and grasped the handle. Had it worked?

    She yanked on the door, and it opened. The little wood block clopped onto the floor. Relief flooded through her. She snatched it up and went through the door. Jei was nowhere to be seen. Here, the tall shelves lined the walls and were packed with books and scrolls, but unlike in the rest of the library, they were locked behind the glowing barriers of wards. The decorations were also resplendent; the ceiling was made of carved and painted wood in geometric patterns and bordered with gold leaf. The stone pedestals and tables were made of a beautiful black marble that was suffused with white swirls of crystal.

    There was no time to gape at it, though. Mirian set off past the shelves, and came to a split in the hall. She hesitated, not sure which way to go, then she heard a door slam further along the hall in front of her. She dashed forward, where there was another split. There was a door to the left, and another to the right. She cast detect heat, and the air to her left shimmered with the lingering body heat of someone¡ªit had to be Jei. Mirian went left. Near the door, she saw a sign that said ¡®danger¡¯ and a bunch of other stuff, which meant it had to be the right one. Fortunately, this door wasn¡¯t locked.

    The room she found herself in was sparse compared to the lavish decorations she¡¯d just passed. It appeared to be part of one of the keep¡¯s towers, and outside light and a cool breeze filtered in from the arrow slits that encircled the room. There appeared to be some sort of map on the wooden table, next to a pile of books, but her eyes were drawn to the central column of stone in the center of the room. There was an entrance with no door; it appeared to have been removed entirely, leaving the hinges and steel mechanism disconnected from what once had clearly been one of the secret doors. That¡¯s it, she knew, and rushed through. She found herself back on a spiral staircase, descending back down treacherously steep steps. No wonder Professor Jei took the Griffin Hall passage; if they both led to the same place, that route avoided going up and down several flights of stairs.

    And down and down and down, she thought. She let the minor disguise spell drop. If she got caught now, it wouldn¡¯t matter if she temporarily had blond hair and blue eyes or not. She was sure this led deep below Bainrose, maybe even to those doors of stone. With each step she took, she felt the urge to hurry building. As she moved, she adjusted her spellrod again so that it was on ground lightning.

    She found herself at the base of the stairs, looking down a long passage. The stonework was all of the lowest level of the underground: dark granite covered in hieroglyphs, and the elegant thin arches and pillars that splayed out like ribs of stone. Along the spine-like ceiling were faint glyph lamps, painting the passage with a dusty orange glow.

    A scream echoed down the tunnel.

    Shit! Am I too late?

    Mirian tightened her grip on her scepter, dropped her bag, and sprinted. The walls rushed by her in a blur, and her breath started coming fast and heavy. She saw the bright flash of electricity further forward and willed herself to go faster. The tunnel opened up into a strange room full of thin pillars, crates scattered about. The same dim glyph lamps lit the room, overshadowed by the bright arc of electricity between Professor Jei and the cloaked man. Mirian channeled, and a black line appeared in the air between Jei and the man, sucking in the electricity. She had no idea if she¡¯d been in time. Jei wasn¡¯t moving.

    The spy whirled and turned to Mirian. It was that third man, she could tell, the one that she¡¯d followed deep under Bainrose so long ago. He fired off another burst of lightning, but Mirian¡¯s spell nullified that too. Idiot, Mirian thought. These guys are one-trick eximontar.

    Then he drew a short sword from his belt and charged at her.

    Mirian didn¡¯t have time to change around her spellrod, and besides, the Akanan spy still had his lightning wand in his off-hand, so she needed to keep it on ground lightning in case he used it again. Winded from her sprint, she didn¡¯t trust herself to outrun him. Instead, she settled into a dueling stance and used her spellrod to parry the first blow.

    The scepter wasn¡¯t designed to be hacked at with a weapon, but it was mostly solid brass, and balanced enough. It was also a lot better than nothing, which was what her backup plan consisted of.

    The bright ringing of metal filled the room. Mirian found herself hard pressed, retreating rapidly, trying to duck around the thin pillars to get breathing room. When he overextended, she was able to give him a painful thwack! on the hand, but the problem was the spellrod wasn¡¯t nearly sharp or heavy enough to be a threat. The spy raised his wand again, and Mirian began to channel, but it was a feint of a different kind. The man lunged and it was only her reflexes from a thousand dueling bouts that saved her from getting skewered.

    Her breathing was ragged now; the chase, the sprint, and now the desperate defense was getting to her. The spy came at her again with two cuts to her side, sending her reeling backward. She landed another blow on his arm, but it barely slowed him down. This time, he did send a lightning bolt her way, and she only countered it with her own spell at the last second. He then followed up with an overhand blow that clanged off Mirian¡¯s scepter, sending her reeling backward, where she promptly tripped over one of the boxes lurking in the shadows. She went sprawling, sending up a cloud of dust as she hit the floor.

    Panic swept through her as the spy raised his sword. She did not want to be dismembered. Mirian rolled to the side as the blade came smashing down where she¡¯d been a moment before, ricocheting off the stone floor so hard it sparked.

    ¡°Behind you!¡± Mirian shouted in Eskanar, hoping that he might be startled into looking away for a moment while she recovered, but she had no such luck. His blade swung out, slicing her shin, and Mirian cried out.

    The spy stepped forward and raised his sword, ready to bring it down on her chest¡ª

    ¡ªand then a beam of black and red fire went right through his torso. He toppled to the ground, the clang of the sword on stone echoing, then slowly fading.

    Mirian lifted her head enough to see Professor Jei. She was holding not a magic tome, nor a wand or scepter, but a glowing white orb, spirals of glyphs marking its outside. In the light of that orb, Jei stood tall in her red coat, the embroidered serpent designs glimmering in the glow. Her gaze was full of fury, but it softened as she saw Mirian.

    Jei stared at her as she rose. ¡°Mirian?¡± Then she let out a string of words in Gulwenen that could only have been curses. She swapped back to Friian and said, ¡°What in the five hells are you doing down here?¡±

    Mirian just let her head fall back down to the stone floor as she caught her breath. At last, she thought.

 Chapter 50 - Things In Motion

    ¡°Mirian?¡± Professor Jei repeated. ¡°You okay?¡±

    She was staring at the ceiling. There were strange hourglass-shaped holes in it leading to more stone above. Near the glyph lamps, she could see the faint remnants of paint on the ceiling. Once, someone had taken care of this place. Now, it was stacked with Academy crates full of supplies, and the smell of cooked flesh wafted from the dead Akanan spy. ¡°I should be asking you that.¡±

    ¡°What is going on?¡± Jei asked. ¡°How did you get down here?¡±

    ¡°Followed you. Ugh, sorry, I ran to get here. Are there, uh, cloth wrappings in any of these crates? Gods this hurts.¡± She sat up so she could put her hand over the gash on her shin, which made her hiss in pain, but she knew she needed to put pressure on it. There was already a small puddle of blood on the stone. ¡°He got my leg. I think¡­ ah¡ªthink he hit the bone.¡± Her eyes were watering from the pain. Xipuatl had taught her several celestial runes used for healing; all of them involved healing plants. Once again, Mirian thought about joining the priesthood, purely for the practical knowledge. Of course, all that knowledge would be useless until she¡¯d obtained an ¡®elder reliquary focus,¡¯ whatever the hell that was made out of.

    Jei¡¯s orb brightened and she let go of it so that it hovered in the air next to her. Okay, that¡¯s a neat trick. Several crate lids opened, and she brought out what looked to be a cheap rug. With another spell, she sliced it into a neat strip. ¡°Move your hands,¡± she commanded, and when Mirian did, she wrapped it like a bandage, telekinetically, with Mirian¡¯s auric resistance seeming to give her no trouble at all with the delicate force spell. It still hurt like the hells, but at least the blood wasn¡¯t running down her leg anymore. ¡°Now explain,¡± her professor demanded. To someone who didn¡¯t know her, Jei sounded angry, but Mirian could tell she was scared.

    ¡°That¡¯s an Akanan spy,¡± she said, gesturing at the corpse. She limped over to start searching the body. Sure enough, he had a whole ring of glyph keys. ¡°They¡¯ve been breaking into the Academy, sabotaging things, and they wanted to kill you. Don¡¯t know why, has something to do with the secret project under Bainrose. But neither you nor Professor Torres will tell me anything about it. I do know it¡¯s all a prelude to an attack on the town in a few weeks.¡±

    Professor Jei dimmed the light from her orb and watched Mirian as she continued searching the body. ¡°That makes no sense,¡± she said. ¡°Start making sense.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m a time traveler,¡± Mirian told her. Then she started to explain.

    ***

    Professor Jei, it turned out, had received a message that there was an emergency meeting about the project. That note was obviously a forgery. Once she realized it, Jei refused to continue deeper into the underground and had them return to Bainrose.

    Limping up what felt like a hundred flights of stairs was agony, and Mirian¡¯s heavy satchel only added to it. The steps were all just a bit too tall, and each time she put weight on her leg, she felt sharp pain. Naturally, the designers of the secret spiral staircase leading to the secret underground passages had neglected to put a railing in their design. Not even a secret one. The narrow staircase meant that Jei couldn¡¯t do much to help support her, so she just had to lean against the wall and suck in air through her teeth every time she took a step.

    When they finally got to the top, Professor Jei locked the door behind them and led Mirian into a nice room where several plush chairs made a semicircle around a crescent table and a magical fireplace. The room oozed luxury, but by then Mirian would have given up her spellbook for the cushioned chair. She collapsed into it immediately, muttering, ¡°Gods bless you.¡±

    Jei replied, ¡°Ah, not necessary. Stay here. I return soon.¡±

    Mirian closed her eyes. ¡°Get Professor Seneca,¡± she said as Jei started to leave. She heard the professor pause, then continue out. The door shut softly behind her.

    The thought of going up or down any more flights of stairs filled her with apprehension. Then she wondered what Jei meant by ¡®not necessary,¡¯ and if she understood that ¡®Gods bless you¡¯ was more of an idiom than an actual blessing by priests, and then she realized she had no idea what Zhiguan worship practices were like. Probably her preparatory school history teacher had mentioned it, and she could imagine that Mr. Vasquez, wherever he was right now, had broken out in a cold sweat as the premonition that all his hard work had been wasted on students like Mirian settled on him.

    She wondered who exactly Jei was getting. A priest, maybe? Were they allowed on the forbidden third floor? She considered pretending to be a Deeps agent like she had for Valen, but knowing her luck, one of them probably knew an actual agent.

    It took about an hour for Jei to return¡ªmaybe more, Mirian wasn¡¯t sure if she had nodded off. When she did arrive, she had Professor Torres and Professor Seneca in tow. Mirian could see the puzzlement in Seneca¡¯s gaze as she peered at her over her glasses. Torres¡¯s stony brown eyes, on the other hand, revealed nothing.

    ¡°Seneca, are you part of the secret project involving the giant doors beneath Bainrose?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°Did you kill that man on the roof?¡± she replied.

    Mirian closed her eyes, trying to will the pain in her leg to go away. ¡°Not on purpose. I knew he¡¯d be there, though. I knew the second Akanan spy would be in the Myrvite Studies building. I knew the third one would kill Jei if I didn¡¯t intervene. I know where their hideout is. I know about Torres¡¯s 500 year-old Persaman spellrod, and I made one like it,¡± she said, waving her scepter about in their general direction. ¡°I know that the guards were taking bribes from the spies. Captain Mandez especially, because he knows their plan. So reporting their activity to the guards without a public audience is useless. And I know the Akanan invasion attacks Torrviol on the 26th. What I don¡¯t know, Seneca, is whose side you¡¯re on. How do you know Bertrus?¡±

    Seneca didn¡¯t answer. All three of her professors just stood, looking at her. It was all very awkward and uncomfortable. Jei said something in Gulwenen to Torres, which she nodded at. Huh. Torres speaks Gulwenen?

    ¡°Did she tell you about the time travel? Look, is this how I acted a week ago? You¡¯ve all taught me for, what, three years, off and on, in the various upper level classes? Torres, I know right now you¡¯re searching for alternative hypotheses, and that you¡¯re smart enough to come up with several, but I need you to entertain this one: what if I¡¯m telling the truth?¡±

    ¡°The most likely hypothesis is you¡¯re a plant by a third party interested in the research,¡± Torres said, voice flat.

    Mirian let out a groan. ¡°Gods above, I¡¯m going to have to explain everything again, make a bunch of predictions, and then you¡¯ll all still skeptically think something else is going on right up until the Akanan airships are on their way over. You¡¯re all thinking ¡®why didn¡¯t she tell someone about all this,¡¯ and the answer is I¡¯ve tried it. No one ever believes me. I¡¯ve had to do this all alone. No one wants to help, even though the world¡¯s at stake. Gods, that sounds so melodramatic, doesn¡¯t it? Of course it¡¯s easier to dismiss me as a lunatic, I learned all about the mind preserving previous mental schema from Professor Viridian.¡±

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    Mirian started listing things she knew now. The passage under Griffin Hall. How to make a cartography device. Basic Eskanar. What the inside of the jail cells looked like. When she got to the chimera and the corpse under the Bainrose catacombs, Torres said, ¡°Wait, what?¡±

    ¡°Nope, not explaining. Not until someone says something and you all stop looking at me like I grew a second head. Did I already use that line? Also, I¡¯d really like to see a healer.¡± The pain had removed some of the mental filter Mirian usually had up. It was easy to just say whatever came to mind, even if it wasn¡¯t a good idea.

    ¡°Bertrus and I dated briefly when we were students at the Academy,¡± Seneca finally said. ¡°We¡¯re still friends, just not close ones.¡±

    Torres asked, ¡°Why didn¡¯t you go to the mayor¡¯s office? Or the magistrate?¡±

    Mirian actually had thought of that during the ninth loop, and made that one of her side projects. ¡°The secretaries won¡¯t give out appointments to students, no matter how important I insist it is. The letter I snuck into his office never got a reply. Is the mayor really unaware of all the break-ins in the Academy and the guard¡¯s lack of interest in solving it? Is that the problem?¡±

    All three professors were silent, which told Mirian the answer. If the mayor wasn¡¯t outright taking bribes, something else had bought his silence. Mirian had looked for him during the evacuation of Torrviol that second cycle, and he¡¯d either made himself scarce or left the same way Captain Mandez had.

    ¡°So do you see the problem? All the ways I¡¯m supposed to be able to do things are denied to me. At first, I thought maybe by pure chance, I was the only one noticing these things. Now I know everyone knows about it, but no one says or does anything¨Cuntil it¡¯s too late. That has to change.¡±

    ¡°I would like to believe you,¡± said Torres, ¡°but the problem is it¡¯s not believable. How are you traveling through time? Either Song Jei omitted that part of the story or you did.¡±

    ¡°I did, because I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s connected to the¡­¡± Mirian hesitated. How would they react if she told them the invasion didn¡¯t even matter, that even if they stopped it they would all die anyways? That nothing they did right now mattered unless it affected her? Probably not well. ¡°...invasion. That¡¯s all I know,¡± she finished. ¡°Sorry, my leg really hurts. Have you ever been hit by a sword?¡±

    ¡°Twice,¡± Torres said. ¡°So I can commiserate.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°You were saying something about a dead Arcane Praetorian.¡±

    ¡°Tell me why it¡¯s important first.¡±

    Torres looked at Jei, who looked back at Torres. If Mirian hadn¡¯t known telepathy was impossible, she would have thought they were using it. It was Professor Jei who finally spoke. ¡°We are working with one. She provides security for the project.¡±

    ¡°I used one of Professor Holvatti¡¯s spells on the skeleton. It¡¯s only a few years old.¡±

    Torres and Jei exchanged another look, this one of definite alarm.

    ¡°Are either of you going to share with the class?¡± Seneca asked them.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Torres said. ¡°Not until we¡¯re¡­ sure.¡±

    So Seneca isn¡¯t part of the secret project, Mirian thought.

    ¡°Then why am I part of this? You were both very insistent I should come.¡±

    ¡°Without your intervention, I¡¯d be in jail, and Jei would be dead,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I need you to make sure that the guards come down on the side of the Academy and the people of Torrviol.¡±

    ¡°I know alchemistry, not politics,¡± Seneca said, then sighed. ¡°This is all crazy,¡± she said. ¡°Twenty minutes ago, I was grading exams. Good job, by the way,¡± she said to Mirian.

    ¡°Thanks. I¡¯ve taken that test thirteen times. I¡¯m so sick of it,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Right,¡± Seneca said hesitantly. One thing Mirian was finding is that people could acknowledge her claim of time travel, but they sure as hell wouldn¡¯t act like they believed it. To Torres and Jei, Seneca said, ¡°I want an explanation. Or at least something.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll get one, as much as I can tell you,¡± Torres said. ¡°But I did swear an oath of secrecy. And I always honor my oaths. Always. Mirian, can you show us where this body is?¡±

    ¡°Not until a priest takes care of my leg,¡± she said. ¡°Also, there¡¯s myrvites down there. A chimera and a bog lion at least.¡±

    Seneca started. ¡°There¡¯s no bog lions in the underground! How would it get past the spellwards? What would it eat?¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t figured that one out myself,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°I¡¯ll get a priest. And Eskier,¡± Torres said.

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°Eskier Cassius. The man who makes up for in wands what he lacks in humor. Jei, watch over Mirian. Seneca¨Cyou don¡¯t have to stick around for this.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere. This is way more interesting than grading.¡±

    Torres left in a hurry, while Seneca and Jei took seats in the other chairs around the fireplace. Mirian was glad they were done looming over her. The heat from the magical fire washing over her felt good, and the warm colors of the tapestries and rugs gave the room a particularly cozy feel. She realized one of the end-tables was carved of chimera bone, probably the big lumpy shell of something like what she¡¯d encountered down in the underground. Her mind wandered back to the encounter in the basement.

    ¡°That orb of yours is cool,¡± she told Jei. ¡°How does it work? I didn¡¯t even see the glyphs on it, only the¨Cit looked like there were glyphs made of light orbiting it when you were using it. Like echoes of actual glyphs.¡±

    ¡°Very complicated,¡± Jei said. ¡°I need to learn more words in Friian to explain. How do you say very small rock pieces?¡±

    ¡°Microcrystals?¡± Seneca asked.

    ¡°Maybe. All incorporated in tiny rock matrix.¡±

    Mirian laughed. ¡°You know ¡®matrix¡¯ but not ¡®crystal¡¯? I shouldn¡¯t make fun, I know, you should hear me speak Eskanar. I keep messing up verb conjugations. So where are the conduits?¡±

    ¡°All crystals,¡± Jei said, trying out the new word.

    ¡°Did you make it?¡±

    ¡°Family heirloom.¡± She sighed. ¡°Zhigua used to have the greatest arcanists in the world. Then the fifth dynasty collapsed. Very sad. No one makes the magic spheres anymore. Lost art. Torrian Tower uses the same technique too, though. Tiny glyph crystals in the structure to give it strength. But no other building uses it. Why not? How did the art get to Baracuel? Why was the art lost here too, and around the same time? Many historical riddles to unravel.¡±

    Once again, Mirian found herself being shamed for not paying attention in history class. She hadn¡¯t the slightest idea when the fifth dynasty was, or why it had fallen, or even that Zhigua had once been the center of magical advancement.

    ¡°May I see it?¡±

    Professor Jei took the orb out of her satchel. Mirian ran her fingers over the smooth surface, pondering the miniscule lines of crystal inclusions that spiraled within its translucent form. It seemed like it would be impossible to reverse-engineer. ¡°How did you learn all the spells in it?¡±

    ¡°My father taught me. And grandmother before him. Very dangerous to use without instruction. I will explain when you take my class. Math is a better language to talk in.¡±

    Mirian smiled at that. She turned the orb over in her hands again. ¡°There¡¯s no arcane catalyst?¡±

    Jei reached into her collar and pulled out a beautiful amulet. It appeared to be a piece of amber encasing a dark looking crustacean that was utterly black, until it glimmered like abalone when it caught the light at the right angle.

    ¡°Wow, that¡¯s beautiful,¡± she said. ¡°Why keep the catalyst separate?¡±

    ¡°Why ever be out of contact with magic?¡± she asked.

    Mirian had to admit there was sense to that. She was about to ask what kind of creature was in the amber amulet, but right then, Professor Cassius opened the door, flanked by his three apprentices.

 Chapter 51 - The Corpse In The Catacombs

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Cassius said.

    Professor Torres cleared her throat.

    ¡°Right,¡± he said, clenching his jaw. He made a gesture, and the apprentices stood to the side like soldiers lined up for parade. Each wore the thin bronze chain of apprenticeship that went from their shoulder to a loop on their coats, dangling down across their right breasts like they were carrying a conspicuous pocket watch. They all looked identical, with the same short light brown hair and light brown eyes. If they had personalities that went beyond discipline, like Cassisus, they¡¯d masked them. They also had five wand sheathes hanging off their belts, crisp and polished as the rest of them.

    All of them watched as a priest from the Luminate Order came in, glancing about the room. ¡°You know, I have a feeling the Academy could afford to increase its donations to the temple,¡± he said.

    ¡°Take it up with Archmage Luspire,¡± Cassius grumbled.

    ¡°Oh, we have,¡± sighed the priest.

    Mirian had gotten plenty of wounds healed, but this time, she was paying extra close attention. Without a focus, she doubted she could sense much, but she wanted to try. She watched carefully as the priest put his hand to his chest. The pose of the penitant it was called¨Cexcept he must have been pressing the focus hidden under his robes closely to his chest. Mirian closed her eyes and tried to meditate, but as the bandage was unwrapped, the lances of pain shooting through her broke her concentration. Then, there was that burning sensation by the wound, then blessed relief as the pain faded.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she told him. What she wanted to ask was how does it work? Are there celestial runes on your focus? What¡¯s an ¡®elder reliquary?¡¯ Is it like casting a spell? Can I borrow your focus? But she knew what the answer to those questions would be already. All of it was secret knowledge.

    The priest departed, and then so did they. Her leg still ached slightly¨Chealing was never perfect¨Cbut it was so much nicer to walk on.

    They walked right down the stairs and into the second basement level. It must have been a strange sight for the other students studying there to see: A sixth year student, leading a gaggle of professors and apprentices through the shelves. ¡°Make sure to return your library books on time,¡± Mirian told a wide-eyed first-year student as she passed by. She and Professor Seneca found it funny, at least.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ I got shot to death there, so it was¡­ hmm¡­ two shelves over. Here,¡± she said, standing them all along the blank wall.

    Cassius made a face, the first chip in his stony mask she¡¯d seen. How much did they tell him?

    ¡°There¡¯s no record of a passage here,¡± Torres said.

    Mirian adjusted the rings around the shaft of her spellrod, then concentrated. ¡°Does anyone have a reveal iron spell? I haven¡¯t had a chance to re-scribe it.¡±

    ¡°What is that thing?¡± Cassisus said, scowling at the scepter.

    ¡°Spellrod. Ask Torres, she has a nicer one. Nevermind, I got it.¡± With a grinding clurnk, her empowered magnetic spell caught the lever, and the section stone wall opened.

    ¡°Five hells,¡± muttered Seneca.

    Mirian swapped her spellrod back to light and cast it, the steady glow illuminating the ¡°Now does anyone have a mapping spell? Super easy to get lost in here.¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Seneca said. ¡°Ghostly trail should do the trick, no?¡± Seeing Mirian¡¯s quizzical look, she said, ¡°Illusion spell. Creates a trail of colored light as we walk so we can retrace our path.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Professor Cassius said. ¡°Three, guard the door. No students in, no beasts out. Two, you¡¯re on point with me. One, take up the rear.¡±

    ¡°Yes sir!¡± the apprentices chorused.

    With Cassius¡¯s back to them, Mirian made a face at the others. He calls his apprentices by numbers!? Apprentice Three shrugged. Seneca rolled her eyes and made a gesture she did not expect a professor to make.

    Mirian cleared her throat. ¡°This way,¡± she said, taking the lead.

    She had to stop several times, backtrack once, and nearly had them walk right on by the room they were looking for, but at last they found it. The corpse looked like it had before.

    ¡°One and Two, guard the passage. Wards up, wardbreaker caution,¡± Cassisus snapped as they gathered in the chamber.

    Mirian stood by the pile of ash just north of the body.

    ¡°Well that¡¯s gruesome,¡± Seneca said. ¡°Want me to date it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d rather you just found out its age,¡± said Torres with such a straight face it took Mirian a moment to realize she did have a sense of humor after all. She bent over and picked up the note Mirian had described.

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Jei said something in Gulwenen to Torres, who nodded. Then her face went white. ¡°Song,¡± she said, and then said something else in Gulwenen, and Jei¡¯s face went equally pale. Whatever they¡¯d discovered was bad news.

    Three years, five months dead, as best I can tell,¡± Seneca announced.

    ¡°And shot in the back of the head,¡± Cassius said, in case anyone hadn¡¯t picked up on that.

    Mirian crouched down as if she was joining them in examining the corpse, placing one hand in the dirt. As subtly as she could, she felt for the half-buried wand. She grasped it, and carefully stuffed it up her sleeve, using a single finger to keep it in place.

    ¡°Eskier, this is big,¡± Torres said. ¡°Sefora, Mirian¡¯s right. We need to start gathering guards we can trust. There might be fighting. The project¡¯s been¡­ infiltrated.¡±

    ¡°So are you all going to start beliving me?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°I¨C¡± Torres started, but she was interrupted by one of the apprentices letting out a series of curses that would have made any sailor blush, and then a blood-curdling roar that echoed up and down the passages.

    ¡°Bog lion,¡± she whispered.

    Then, everything seemed to happen all at once. Cassius already had two wands out, and Jei her orb. The orange light of a fire jet lit up the catacombs, then one of the apprentices gave a shout and dove into the chamber with them, kicking up a cloud of ash as he did. The other one had up a force barrier, and it shattered as something big slammed into it. The air in that area was distorted, like the way air from an oven wavered about. The bog lion was using its camouflage spell.

    A shield of fire¨Capparently originating from Cassius¨Cerupted around the apprentice, and there was a snarl as the blur retreated and refocused its attention on the group. With his second wand, Cassius blasted the bog lion with force. Instead of retreating, though, it attacked. Cassius put up a second fire shield around himself, and Mirian thought she saw a ghostly paw smash into it. There was an explosion of light and flames. The barrier held, though, and Cassisus repositioned himself in the entrance of the chamber so it couldn¡¯t go around. The first fire shield was still up, which made Mirian blink. He was channeling two instances of the same spell through one wand. She hadn¡¯t even known that was possible!

    ¡°I am unfamiliar with this creature,¡± Jei said. ¡°Do we want it alive or dead?¡±

    ¡°Dead,¡± Torres said at the same time Seneca said ¡°oh, alive would be wonderful!¡±

    They looked at each other, then Seneca sighed. ¡°Dead is fine, but the mane and skin intact, if you can. It has such interesting magichemical properties.¡±

    Both Torres and Seneca were ready with their spellbooks, but with Cassius blocking the door, they were just holding them at the ready. Jei¡¯s orb was glowing, and once again, phantom glyphs surrounded it as the orb floated in the air above her extended hand. Mirian wondered what she hoped to accomplish. Cassius was busy harassing the still camouflaged bog lion with blasts of force, and he was still blocking the entrance. Mirian could hear its heavy paws crunching the slate and bits of bone out in the passage as it moved around, deterred by the fire, but by no means giving up on its prey.

    Then Mirian remembered what Jei¡¯s real expertise was. She was thinking in three dimensions, but Jei wasn¡¯t. She didn¡¯t just study math for its own sake. She was all about applied math. Mirian peered out into the passage, just in time to see a spell appear out of thin air around the bog lion, coming from behind it. A feyfire spell, she thought. Burning embers of violet and green attached themselves to the bog lion, illuminating it. Mirian thought that was a splendid idea; now the thing was lit up, and a lot easier to target. But then, the myrvite roared again, and did something that caused all the air in the room to feel like it was being pulled at. Suddenly, the fire shields, the feyfire, and the lights in the room winked out, plunging them all into darkness.

    Mirian recast her light spell, while Cassius said, ¡°Dammit, Song! Don¡¯t force it to use its nullifying spell like that!¡± His fire shield came back up, and just in time. The bog lion, no longer camouflaged, pounced right at him, smashing into the shield despite the hiss of burning flesh coming from its paws. It knocked Cassisus to the ground, though the shield still held. Now Mirian could see it in its true terrifying form. The thick mossy mane, the fury in its black eyes, the huge mouth full of needle-like teeth. Lions were cute. Bog lions were made of nightmare stuff. As the light caught it, it seemed like there was a thick tar bubbling in its mouth, like there was a churning swamp inside it.

    As the bog lion came down on the shield again, Seneca sent out a flurry of force knives at its face, causing it to recoil and close its eyes. Jei¡¯s orb brightened again, and she sent out her disintegration ray again. This time, she didn¡¯t just cast it for a moment. She speared the bog lion right through the mouth, the black and red fire filling the room with an unnatural light that seemed to sap the color of the other light sources. As the bog lion leapt away, the beam followed it. When it rounded the corner, bounding away with a yowl, the origin point of the beam suddenly snapped to a new spot, and the ray kept drilling into it. The room smelled of burning flesh, and the bog lion let out a eerie howl of pain.

    The second apprentice¨COne or Two, Mirian couldn¡¯t recall¨Csent out a few fire rays of his own as he finally got to his feet. Finally, the beam stopped, and Song Jei smiled. ¡°Dead,¡± she said. ¡°Very resilient. A strong soul.¡±

    Cassius sprang to his feet with agility that seemed like it should be beyond his age. ¡°Wards back up!¡± he snapped. ¡°And I said wardbreaker caution. Wardbreaker caution protocol! What does that mean to you?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, sir!¡± said Two¨CMirian was pretty sure he was Two now. ¡°Not making excuses, but that thing ate the ward faster than a starved pig at a pie festival, and that was while it was running at me!¡±

    ¡°It never tripped the sound ward either,¡± One said. He was clutching his arm, not at all complaining that there was blood running between his fingers. One of the claws had raked him. ¡°Also, I believe my arm is broken, Sir!¡± he reported, and then fainted. Oh, so it had done more than rake him.

    ¡°We should get out of here. I¡¯ve taken an illusionary snapshot of the scene already. We should bring the remains. Adria¡­ deserved better than this,¡± Torres said. Oh shit. They know her. Knew her.

    ¡°And we should bring the bog lion,¡± Seneca said. ¡°One, you cannot believe how hard it is to get bog lion mane this time of year. And two, I want to put it on the mayor¡¯s front porch. That ought to get him to reassess the spellward situation, which I have been complaining about for years to no avail.¡±

    ¡°I can carry the bog lion,¡± Cassisus said, sheathing his two wands and pulling out a third. ¡°Two, bandage then carry One.¡±

    ¡°I can carry the corpse,¡± Jei said. ¡°Very gently,¡± she assured Torres.

    ¡°Sadly, when it used its natural nullifying spell, it erased the ghostly trail. And recall spell state is in my other spellbook,¡± Seneca said. ¡°Mirian, you can get us out of here, right?¡±

    Mirian grimaced as they all turned to look to her. ¡°That depends,¡± she said. ¡°Are you all going to start trusting me now? Kidding, sorry. Yeah, I can get us out of here.¡± Under her breath she added, ¡°Probably.¡±

 Chapter 52 - New Developments

    To her credit, they only got lost once on the way out, and not for that long. The bog lion barely fit through the narrower parts of the catacombs. It had to weigh several hundred pounds, but Cassius didn¡¯t appear to be straining at all, unlike his apprentice, who was trembling with the effort of his lift object spell. Come to think of it, the spell resistance probably made it harder to carry the first apprentice.

    ¡°I could just carry him over my shoulder,¡± Mirian offered, but Two just shook his head and cast a meaningful glance at Cassius.

    If going past the students with four professors on the way down to the catacombs had caused the rumor mill to start turning, coming back out with an injured student, a skeleton and a bog lion corpse was like lighting the rumor mill on fire. A crowd gathered at the plaza, including Bertrus. ¡°Was that¡­ inside the spellward?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Cassius said casually. ¡°Three, get the priest. Again.¡±

    Seneca asked, ¡°Iliyia, what do I tell him? What do I tell any of them?¡±

    Torres was silent except for the grinding of her jaw.

    It was Cassius who prodded her next. ¡°Your oath is to Baracuel first. To the crown, to our republic, and to its people. No oath sworn can be greater.¡±

    ¡°And yet, in all this time, I have managed not to break any oaths. Not since I was a child. But I suppose the woman I swore it too is dead.¡± She took a deep breath, and looked at Jei, then back to the skeleton. ¡°This is Adria Gavell, of the Arcane Praetorians, sworn defender of crown and country.¡±

    ¡°But Adria¡¯s still alive,¡± Bertrus said. Then, ¡°Oh shit.¡±

    ¡°Tell the magistrate,¡± Seneca told Bertrus. ¡°And any guards you know can be trusted. Not the captain,¡± she added. ¡°Do you know where the pretender is?¡±

    ¡°Then who¡­?¡± Obviously he didn¡¯t.

    ¡°Go,¡± Torres said.

    Bertrus started running.

    ¡°Roland is cool!¡± Mirian shouted after him. Then to the professors, she said, ¡°I¡¯m missing something,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Who¡¯s Adria? I¡¯ve never heard of Adria.¡±

    ¡°Adria Gavell was in charge of security for the project,¡± Jei said.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Mirian. Then, ¡°ohhhhhhhh. Oh wow. You all¡­ alright, see, you should just tell me everything. Akana Praediar knows literally everything about your project. Gods above, they¡¯ve been spying on it for¡­ three and a half years? Did you know they send an army over it? An entire army group. And two airships, like you¡¯ve never seen. Big ones, packed with artillery. Cassisus, you¡¯d love them. If they didn¡¯t kill us all, that is.¡±

    ¡°I was not privy to this part of the tale,¡± he said. ¡°You are¡­ part of the Department of Public Security? Undercover?¡±

    ¡°I should just start telling people that. Don¡¯t they have a special signet ring, though? No, I¡¯m just a regular, ordinary time traveler, of the common variety.¡±

    Cassisus blinked. His two conscious apprentices looked at each other.

    Seneca shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t really have a better explanation at this point.¡±

    Jei was looking at Mirian. Not just looking at her, but looking into her. She understands, Mirian realized. It was one thing to have it implied the future didn¡¯t matter, that nothing you did mattered. It was another to believe it. She believes it now.

    The crowd continued to gather, with the bog lion being the biggest talking piece. As a healer finally arrived for One, the medly of students and townsfolk continued to talk over each other.

    ¡°...ought to have a plebiscite! Mayor Wolden¡¯s incompetence could get someone killed!¡±

    ¡°It already has, clearly.¡±

    ¡°...are the spellwards failing? Wait, how did it come from Bainrose? It¡¯s a library¡­¡±

    ¡°...is this going to interfere with registration? I really need to get into the third year of arcane fundamentals¡­¡±

    ¡°...look at the size of that thing!¡±

    Mirian let it wash around her like a river. It was comforting to see so many people acknowledging things weren¡¯t normal. For most of the cycles, she¡¯d kept everything to herself, and ridiculousness of everyone going about their daily lives when armageddon was approaching had felt maddening.

    Then, the conversation changed.

    ¡°...what¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Is that smoke?¡±

    The crowd started to turn and point.

    Mirian dropped her satchel. ¡°Watch that for me!¡± she called to the group, then started running. The column of smoke was coming from the southeast of town, by the station. Before she got there, she already knew which building it would be.

    She arrived panting and out of breath. Sure enough, the spies¡¯ secret hideout was already burning. She¡¯d arrived just in time, too. The firefighting sorcerers were already heading in, their wagon parked in the street. The shimmering fields surrounding them indicated they were prepared for heat and smoke, but they were oblivious to the real danger.

    ¡°Wait!¡± she called. ¡°There¡¯s a trap in the entryway!¡±

    The first sorcerer stopped, hand inches from the inner door. He gave her a puzzled look, probably wondering who the weird student yelling at him was.

    ¡°Turning that handle opens a trap door. Stand¨Cwhew, sorry, been doing a lot of running today. Stand back from the room and use a force spell to turn the handle.¡± When they didn¡¯t, she added, ¡°This is the Akanan spy hideout. Someone set it on fire to burn the evidence. Going through the window is probably safer.¡±

    ¡°Are you an agent or something?¡± the second sorcerer asked.

    ¡°You know what? Sure, that¡¯ll make things easier. By order of the crown, I order you to not go through the front door so you don¡¯t mangle yourself. Please.¡±

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think she¡¯s actually an agent,¡± the first sorcerer said, but he at least came out of the entryway.

    Since they were both clear, Mirian used her lift object spell, enhanced so it could handle torque, on the handle. Predictably, the floor fell away, revealing last cycle¡¯s dead-end for her. ¡°See? This is why people should listen to me. Use the window!¡±

    ¡°Five hells,¡± hissed the first sorcerer, looking down at the six foot drop full of nasty looking stakes. ¡°Yes ma¡¯am, using the window!¡±

    Mirian may have had foreknowledge, but the firefighters had the advantage in power. Mirian marveled at the intensity of their spells. They pried open the wood boards easily, tearing them right off the heavy-duty bolts that had secured them. Smoke came pouring out. Quickly, they cordoned off the fire with force shields, smothering it, then gathered up the smoke and soot into black spheres that they submerged in water barrels waiting on the wagon.

    Just as quickly as it went out, though, the fire reignited. ¡°Assessment,¡± called the first sorcerer.

    ¡°Checking it out. Hm. There¡¯s a spell engine¨Ca heater. It appears to have been¡­ repurposed. Alright, we need to form a perimeter. Depending on how they modified it and what sort of fuel its using, disabling it or taking it apart could cause it to explode. Back away people! You too, girl.¡±

    Mirian was happy to oblige. By then, Torres had caught up to her. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she asked, breathing heavily.

    ¡°Someone figured out we were coming for them. This is the spies¡¯ headquarters. I guess they set it on fire as a last fuck-you?¡±

    ¡°They probably wanted to destroy all the evidence and information they gathered so we can¡¯t use it. And distract us from their escape. Did anyone see who did this and where they went?¡±

    ¡°They might have gone by the underground,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Say, you don¡¯t happen to have any secret maps of it lying around? Next cycle I could block off their escape route. Exploring it myself has been a real pain.¡±

    Torres gave an exasperated sigh. ¡°We¡¯ll talk later, okay?¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a no.

    ***

    It took a few hours for the dust to settle. By then, a few things had happened. One, the general agreement around town was a plebiscite would be called to elect a new mayor, made much easier by the fact that the Mayor Wolden couldn¡¯t be found.

    Two, the fire fighting brigade had finally put out the fire, assisted by some careful consultation from Professor Torres, who had the design of a standard spell engine heater memorized and had intuited what kind of glyph changes the spies had made to turn it into an ignition source just by turning the problem over in her brain for a few minutes. She¡¯d helped them take it apart with the precision of a chef dicing up potatoes. Really complicated potatoes that would explode if cut wrong. Mirian was too tired to think of a better analogy.

    Three, a pair of fishing boats had gone missing by the docks at about the same time the fire started. Captain Mandez had also gone missing, along with whoever was pretending to be Adria. It was possible some less prominent people had disappeared; Mirian would just have to keep her ears open.

    The guards, for their part, had closed ranks, and no one was admitting to bribes. Their story was that it just have been Captain Mandez taking the bribes, and they had just been following his orders. Enough people didn¡¯t belive this that an angry crowd had formed outside the magistrate¡¯s office. They shouted and postured for a bit, and then the magistrate had come out to promised them she¡¯d ¡®investigate.¡¯ Who knew how long that would take and how much it would uncover. There was still a lot of grumbling, but the crowd had dispersed.

    As evening descended, things certainly weren¡¯t back to normal, but at the very least, everything didn¡¯t seem like it was happening all at once anymore. Torres departed with Jei for an emergency meeting with the project team. ¡°No, you can¡¯t attend. And so you don¡¯t follow us, it¡¯s the third floor of Bainrose. Give us¡­ give me time. I need to think before we talk.¡±

    Mirian accepted that, and watched her depart. She did stick around and watch the entrance of Bainrose for awhile. Several wizards from Torrian Tower made their way over to the castle, none of whom Mirian recognized. She tried to memorize their faces. After awhile, no more arcanists seemed to be going in.

    Not sure what else to do anymore, Mirian went back to her dormitory, where a furious Lily greeted her.

    ¡°Mirian! What is going on!? Do you know what I¡¯ve heard today? That guy that fell from a building and died was because of you, and that you and a bunch of professors killed a bog lion in the library, and that you found a corpse that caused the mayor to flee town? And do you know who told me?¡±

    Ah shit. Mirian knew.

    ¡°Valen! Who you apparently have been friends with also and didn¡¯t tell me?¡±

    Now that caught Mirian by surprise. ¡°She told you we were friends?¡±

    Lily threw her hands up in exasperation. ¡°That¡¯s the thing you deny? You¡¯re not denying the other stuff?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t really help with the bog lion,¡± she admitted. ¡°Too many cooks in the¡­ well, catacombs. Lily, first, let me just say I¡¯m really sorry¨C¡±

    ¡°You could have died!¡±

    ¡°I did,¡± Mirian said, and that made Lily stop talking and stare at her. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ Gods, how do I say this? How do I stay your friend when everything we do, you forget, but I don¡¯t? Lily, I¡¯m in a time loop. I¡¯ve told you about it before, in previous cycles, so I know you don¡¯t remember. I¡¯m telling you about it now, but¡­ you didn¡¯t believe me back then. You humored me, sure, but you didn¡¯t believe me. Every time I go through this, I¡¯m going to piss someone off. Usually you. Certainly Valen, who, by the way, is stalking me. Total creeper. The point is¨Chow do I explain it to you? The first time I went through this loop, I watched you die. The second time, I saw it again. I¡¯ve mourned for you, then¨Cthen here you are again, but without those things we shared. None of the things we shared, the good or the bad. Lily, how do I stay your friend when only one of us remembers what we¡¯ve been through?¡±

    Lily blinked, clearly not expected the onslaught of words coming back at her. Mirian found herself in tears, kneeling in front of her best friend. ¡°What¡­ what are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve lived through this month a dozen times now. When I die, I¡¯ll live through it again. And I will die. We all will, only, it¡¯s just me who will remember it. There¡¯s no stopping that. It won¡¯t stop for¨C¡± Mirian choked on her words, unable to give voice to that terrible thought. Right now, she couldn¡¯t even conceive of what could stop the cycles. She was focused on the attack on Torrviol because she could imagine stopping it, and maybe, just maybe, it would give her some idea, some direction. But how did one stop the apocalypse? ¡°I don¡¯t know when it will stop,¡± she whispered. ¡°What will I say when the month repeats again, when you ask me the same question?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? I¡­ I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Can¡¯t, or don¡¯t want to? Mirian wondered. How would she react, if it had been Lily who was chosen by fate? She wanted to be fair to Lily, but she was already sick of having the same conversations over and over again. And she could tell that despite everything she had learned, there was no end in sight. How could anything last? Selesia, she thought. I didn¡¯t meet her this time. Maybe that¡¯s for the best too. She yearned to hold her hand again. To go on quiet walks under the starlight. That couldn¡¯t last either, though. Maybe I can find a way, she told herself, even as part of her knew it was wishful thinking. What kind of relationship could last, when only one person remembered?

    A deep pang of loneliness ran through her. She wanted to see her mom and dad again. She wanted to see little Zayd, and hear him call her Mi-Ri as he ran up and tackle-hugged her legs. She wanted to play wands with him, and listen to him make up ridiculous spells until she picked him up and spun him through the air and he was laughing too hard to imagine any more.

    ¡°Mirian?¡±

    One of the reasons Mirian had been drawn to artifice was it made things that lasted. She liked that. Liked the permanence of them. She liked Torrviol because it was full of things that had been laid down centuries ago, but still stood. She didn¡¯t want to create things that were ephemeral. But now, that was all she could cling to. Nothing she built in this world would last.

    ¡°Let¡¯s¡­ let¡¯s go eat dinner,¡± Mirian said, standing, wiping a tear away from her cheek. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what I¡¯ve been up to this past year. Valen can join us too.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s good,¡± said Valen from out in the hall. ¡°I was afraid things might get awkward.¡±

    Lily started. ¡°Was she¡­?¡±

    Mirian just rolled her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s roast asparagus and chicken marsala. You¡¯ll say it¡¯s just okay, and your dad made it better.¡±

    ¡°Not my dad,¡± Valen said.

    ¡°Your dad was an abusive drunk who couldn¡¯t boil water in a burning house. Come on, let¡¯s go.¡±

 Chapter 53 - Apprentice

    That evening, over mediocre chicken marsala, Mirian told Lily and Valen about the loops. Most things that happened, at least; she left out the details about the leyline explosions and the moon falling down. She breezed over how gruesome the deaths were. No need to spread the existential dread around. Unfortunately, as she talked, other students kept interrupting her story to ask her if she really killed a bog lion, so the tale was incoherent at best. It didn¡¯t help that the events often blurred together in her memory. For example, when she tried to describe the seventh cycle, she kept mixing it up with things that had happened during the eighth and ninth.

    The first time a group of students came over and asked about the bog lion, Mirian basically told the truth. The tenth time someone came over, she talked about how she had single-handedly taken it down while Professor Cassius ran for it. By the time the twelfth person mentioned it, she was telling them there was a bog lion army marshaling in the underground and it only ate people who didn¡¯t pass alchemistry.

    By then, the dining hall was clearing out.

    ¡°This is¡­ heavy stuff,¡± Lily said as Mirian finished her tale. Her gaze was unfocused, and she looked somewhat dazed.

    Valen had been uncharacteristically silent. They all sat, plates empty, listening to the clatter of dishes being washed and the last few murmurs of conversation as the hall emptied out. Finally, she said, ¡°How do we have¡­ so little time left?¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t know what to say to that.

    ¡°So what do we do?¡± Lily asked, a hint of hysteria creeping into her voice.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I mean, I have a colossal list of things I don¡¯t know that I need to find out, but it¡¯s things like ¡®what¡¯s the secret project under Torrviol?¡¯ and ¡®how do I get the Baracuel army to garrison Torrviol with enough force and time to repel an Akanan army group?¡¯ and ¡®Why is there a massacre in the capitol, and how does that lead to war?¡¯ How do I ask you to help with that?¡±

    There was silence at the table. To Mirian¡¯s surprise, it was Valen who seemed the most dejected by her story. She¡¯d never seen such a downcast look on her before.

    Mirian rose from the table. ¡°Sorry,¡± she said. ¡°Fate is cruel.¡± And didn¡¯t she know it.

    ***

    The next day, Torrviol was full of meetings. The professors who weren¡¯t busy proctoring exams were meeting about the Academy, the spellward, and the project. The townsfolk were all meeting about the mayor, the magistrate, and about their general discontent of things. The guards were meeting with the magistrate, and the magistrate was sending out letters by carrier birds to try and get Captain Mandez, Adria, and the mayor apprehended on the hope that their boats had gone downriver. Meanwhile, the students were meeting to pass around rumors or just celebrate the end of the quarter, even as the last group of bedraggled students finished their exams.

    She wanted to open up the wand she¡¯d retrieved from the catacombs and see what it did, but when she went to the student crafting center, she found it closed. That was annoying. Examining the glyphs would be far safer than channeling into it with no idea what it would do. She wasn¡¯t in a hurry to end this loop yet. She¡¯d also need to craft wands for her certification and classes, but it seemed that was going to have to wait.

    The day after that, out of habit, Mirian went to register for her classes, chalking up returning combat this quarter as a loss, only to find the office closed. There was a big sign posted reading ¡®Academy Registration Delayed Until The 8th of Solen¡¯ that she¡¯d failed to read, and on her way back to her dorm, realized she¡¯d passed at least five more of the notices on various posts and walls.

    Lily hadn¡¯t had much to say to her. It seemed the only thing she kept asking was if it was all really true. Valen had also made herself scarce, though Mirian had seen her sitting with a group of other sixth years on some benches outside the dorms quietly commiserating. She had a good guess as to what about, though from the fragments of the conversation she heard as she walked by, Valen was keeping the details vague. She looked up at Mirian as she walked by, and Miran could tell she¡¯d been crying. Gods, about what? It was way more unnerving than if Valen had just done something normal, like sneak up on her in an alley, or ¡®accidentally¡¯ spill juice on her uniform.

    Mirian did what she could to comfort Lily. But what she wanted was someone to reassure her. To hold her while she cried. She was the one who¡¯d seen them all die again, who was going to remember all the pain they had right now. Yet there was no one to comfort her.

    It left a bitter taste in her mouth. One part of her wanted to spend some time wallowing in pity, but another part of her told her what¡¯s the point? It¡¯ll all happen again. All you can do is keep going.

    She was almost to her door when she saw Professor Jei coming out of her dorm building. ¡°There you are,¡± she said. ¡°You have your spellbook? Good. Come with me. We talk.¡±

    Mirian joined alongside her. ¡°Did Torres finally cave?¡±

    ¡°No, they are all in a big boring meeting, going ¡®talk talk talk.¡¯¡± Jei made her fingers open and close. ¡°They are talking about what should have happened, instead of what needs to happen next. A room full of very smart people, acting very stupid. No decision yet. What is the phrase you use? Do not capture your breath.¡±

    Mirian thought about that. ¡°Oh, ¡®don¡¯t hold your breath.¡¯ No, I sure wasn¡¯t. So what¡¯s this about?¡±

    ¡°If you have been in the loop for 12 months, you are old enough to be an apprentice. The registrar tried to say it did not count, so I made up data and used scary looking equations to prove it was true, and they, what did you say? Caved. All you have to do is pass a standard skill assessment. Very easy for you, I think. Then you do not have to worry about classes or exams. Instead, we do serious studying. That is what you need, right?¡±

    Mirian swallowed, and held down a sob. She hadn¡¯t expected the emotions to swell up in her, but she couldn¡¯t help it. Someone believed her. Really believed her, not just said they did. ¡°It is. Thank you.¡±

    Jei shook her head. ¡°It is you we must thank. What you have gone through¡­ hm. I do not have the words for it in Friian. I have arranged proctor on short notice.¡±

    The proctor, it turned out, was Professor Seneca. She¡¯d levitated a large chest and table over to the practice range, and was busy setting up measuring devices. It was strange to see the range deserted. Even at odd hours, there was usually at least a few other students.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Seneca showed her the list of things she¡¯d need to do, and Mirian clenched her jaw. ¡°I don¡¯t have half these spells in my spellbook yet.¡±

    Seneca, it seemed, was already prepared for this. She brought out a case with her own scribing materials, and set it on the table next to the detection devices she¡¯d be using to measure her spell energy. ¡°Apprenticeship examinations are more flexible than class requirements. Demonstrations of relevant skills can replace other requirements at the discretion of the proctor with the agreement of the master arcanist.¡± She glanced at Jei. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be disagreeing about any of this. Scribe the spells you know.¡±

    Mirian shrugged, and got to work. At this point, she¡¯d memorized several dozen spells without even meaning to. After all, she had to use spells like minor lightning and major disguise in her classes as a requirement. And since she never experienced the end of the second quarter, the first part of the classes were stuck into her mind like nails.

    ¡°Oh that¡¯s good,¡± Seneca said, watching her scribe simple illusionary cartography from memory. ¡°I would have had to look up the third sequence of glyphs.¡±

    Both professors patiently waited as she scribed spell after spell, and then it was time to demonstrate her casting ability. Most of her spells were of only passable intensity, usually measuring at around 30 myr. Minor lightning she managed to get to as high as 38 myr. ¡°And that¡¯s with a spellbook,¡± she said. ¡°I know I can get it higher with a wand.¡±

    Professor Jei had started frowning as Mirian cast, and her frown didn¡¯t let up. When Seneca raised an eyebrow at this and asked if she was reconsidering, Jei said, ¡°No, I just know what we will work on first.¡±

    At the end of it, Seneca went through her results. ¡°Great spell diversity, you pass easily there. Obviously I substituted enchantment scores for some of the spells you should be able to do, and I asked Torres earlier what you would get in artifice and she just said ¡®She made a spellrod in two days. Pass her,¡¯ so that¡¯s high praise from her. Spell intensity is obviously¡­ borderline. A few of your spells dipped into the high 20s, which normally would be grounds for failure, but Jei¡¯s taking you in as an artificer, and so the scores are weighed differently. So you¡¯re approved for the apprenticeship, if just barely. Congratulations.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said with a smile.

    ¡°We begin tomorrow,¡± Jei said.

    Seneca paused putting away the measuring devices. ¡°Tomorrow is still the break. She¨C¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be there,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Suit yourself,¡± Seneca said. ¡°I¡¯m quite curious as to how this all plays out. Do keep me up to speed, Song.¡±

    As Professor Seneca left, Mirian said, ¡°She only half believes me.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jei said. ¡°She is looking at individual things in isolation and calculating how likely they are. In each case, there she can find an explanation, so she doubts your claim. But she is calculating it wrong. The probabilities must be totaled, and for that, I find no other explanation. I do not want it to be true. The implications fill me with dread. So it is. The world so rarely gives us what we want.¡±

    Mirian nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll see you in the morning.¡±

    ***

    They met in one of the groves just north of town. There were a few old stone benches and an overgrown fountain. Most importantly, there was no one else around. Jei wanted no distractions. Her professor looked tired when Mirian saw her. ¡°Up late?¡±

    ¡°Went to the project meeting after your assessment.¡± Jei flapped her hand again and rolled her eyes. ¡°Ridiculous. No sense talking about it. Inevitably, you will find the information you seek about it. However, if they share it in an official capacity, it will be better than me just explaining. As you have already figured out, two things will prove your claim until we can figure out the mechanism of travel: knowledge and ability. Each cycle, you waste time proving yourself again and again, no?¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Mirian admitted. ¡°It gets¡­ tiring.¡±

    ¡°Like explaining the same concept to students over and over. Very boring. I do not like teaching. However, sometimes we must do what we don¡¯t like. Today, we work on your greatest weakness.¡±

    ¡°Spell intensity,¡± Mirian guessed.

    ¡°Yes. Leave your spellbook. You will not need it. Here.¡± Jei handed her an amulet that looked much like the one she wore. The amber had in it a different creature, though. This one had segmented carapace and two strange eye-stalks. A thin web of silver permeated the amber.

    ¡°You just want me to use an arcane catalyst?¡±

    ¡°Yes. What do you call them in Friian? Raw spells. The Academy teaches wrong. They spend one class on this. They should spend two years. It is the foundation. Like the trunk of a tree. Here, the instruction focuses on making as many branches of that tree as it can, with big thick limbs. And yet, the trunk remains scrawny, and the professors wonder why the tree does not grow.¡±

    ¡°Tree talk. Sounds Tlaxhuacan,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°If we were there, they would have you training with a literal tree. The tree I talk about is symbolic. You understand?¡±

    ¡°I do. Ugh, I hate raw spells.¡±

    ¡°Because you are bad at them. Whether that was cause or effect is irrelevant to us. You must practice.¡±

    Mirian nodded.

    They spent the entire morning on it. Jei taught her forty separate exercises, each of which she called out with a Zhiguan word. The first were easy: they involved creating a single type of energy. Light. Heat. Electricity. Magnetism. Arcane. Kinetic. The next set involved displacing that energy. Moving light to create a dark patch by a candle. Bending the magnetic lines of a lodestone so there was a gap in the field. She had enough trouble doing that with glyphs and spells. Her efforts at casting raw spells were pathetic.

    The rest of the exercises, Jei demonstrated, since it was clear Mirian had no chance of accomplishing them. The next set involved combining two types of energy. After that, both creating one type of energy and displacing another. Mirian watched, fascinated, as Jei pushed a steel ball right next to a lodestone, and yet there was no attraction between the two. The precision involved wasn¡¯t as flashy as the disintegration beam, but it was no less impressive.

    ¡°You understand why, yes?¡± Jei asked.

    ¡°You can cast without a spellbook. A well hidden arcane catalyst would mean no one can turn your magic off.¡±

    Jei shrugged. ¡°Just as easy to, say, hide a wand up your sleeve. No, all mana is raw arcane energy until it is transformed. With more precision as you feed mana into the glyphs, you waste less mana. With stronger threads of mana, the intensity takes less time to build. Your spells are faster and stronger. Eventually, you quicken them. The difference between a novice and a grandmaster playing a piano. A novice smashes the keys, slow and heavy. A master¡¯s hands dance across like lightning.¡±

    Mirian nodded. She wondered if Jei had seen her take the wand from the catacombs, or the example was a coincidence. Jei probably wouldn¡¯t care one way or another, but lots of other people would. It was evidence in a high crime. And theft. Jei knowing about it would only expose her to problems from other people, so she didn¡¯t mention it.

    The rest of the time, they spent practicing the first twelve exercises. Jei called out each exercise in Gulwenen. Mirian had no idea what the words meant, but soon enough she learned what to do. As she cast, Jei kept prodding at her aura with some sort of basic divination spell. Eventually, she called a halt. ¡°Feel that? Feel how thin your aura is? Researchers in Zhigua think this is the optimal place. The place just before depletion. Like working muscles. You do not lift weights until you collapse, but stop just before. When your mana is this low, you know to stop. We will track your improvement. When the cycle ends, you will report to me your starting capability and ending capability of the last cycle.¡±

    Mirian was exhausted. She wanted to collapse into a chair. ¡°What title should I call you? Now that I¡¯m your apprentice.¡±

    ¡°Respected Jei.¡± She curled her lip. ¡°No, I will teach you the word in Gulwenen. ¡®Respected¡¯ can have different connotations depending on tonal emphasis, and the connotation must be right or it sounds strange.¡± Mirian had to repeat the word about fifteen times before Jei was satisfied with her pronunciation. ¡°Close enough,¡± she said. ¡°Now go eat food. Lots of it. You will need your mana replenished tomorrow.¡±

    Mirian stumbled off to go do just that. She hadn¡¯t even lasted until lunch time.

 Chapter 54 - The Mystery Wand

    The plebiscite was in full swing that evening, with various councils of interest groups that had formed overnight speaking to the importance of their issues and proposing their elected candidate as mayor. In between shouting and speeches, groups would spread out and talk to each other, forming ad hoc alliances and pacts, then they¡¯d gather up in combined councils and the speeches and shouting would begin again.

    It all seemed overly complicated and messy to Mirian, who was used to her village elders just appointing one of their own at the head of their own council, with no need for a separate ¡®mayor.¡¯ Of course, in a village like her own, there weren¡¯t many outsiders. It wasn¡¯t so small that everyone knew each other, but it was a close thing. By the time someone was appointed as an elder, they had a reputation of decades of work in the village behind them, and people knew what they were getting. It seemed to her that Torrviol¡¯s mayor would just go to the loudest charlatan, which seemed to be what had happened last time with Mayor Wolden.

    It was a moot point. She couldn¡¯t vote until she was a full adult, and given how the time loop worked, that would never happen. Jei may have convinced the Academy registrar she¡¯d grown older, but she doubted that the town censor would be swayed.

    With everything closed, Mirian headed down to the Stygalta Arena for duels. There, a bunch of students were running their own competitions, with no referees and no Academy organizers. Mirian joined in, absolutely crushing four opponents before she sat down just to watch the bouts. A few people seemed to recognize her, but they didn¡¯t approach. Neither Selesia nor Valen made an appearance.

    The next day, the crafting station was finally back open. Ingrid spotted Mirian and raised an eyebrow at her. ¡°Just doing a repair job on a wand. Don¡¯t worry, I haven¡¯t forgotten your offer. Things are just busy right now.¡±

    ¡°So I¡¯ve heard,¡± Ingrid said. ¡°A bog lion.¡±

    ¡°I mostly just watched.¡± Mirian headed over to one of the woodworking stations, then made sure Ingrid was back at her work and no one was paying much attention to her. Then she took out the wand. It was delicate work to remove the obsidian handle. A bit of divination told her what kind of glue had been used to cement it to the wooden shaft. Next, she got a vial of chemical solvent that would break apart the bonds, and carefully used move liquid to feed it into the gap between the wooden shaft and the handle.

    Mirian¡¯s wands were cheap and easy; she took two pieces of wood, assembled the core channels and glyphs, then glued them together. This one, the core of the wand was extractable from the base of the wood shaft after the handle was removed. It meant a more sturdy construction. The beautifully carved wood remained one solid piece, so it was less likely to break, even after years of usage. She removed the inner core next, using a thin brass hook to pull it out so she didn¡¯t risk mana leakage from a spell triggering a glyph inside it.

    Once it was out, Mirian looked at the glyphs with a frown. She recognized most of them, but had never seen them assembled in this order. Whatever the spell in the wand was, she¡¯d never seen its like before. There were a dozen glyphs she was sure she¡¯d never seen before. She couldn¡¯t even tell what energy the wand was using. Arcane energy was being transmuted into¡­ something. She copied down the glyphs into her notebook so she could look into it.

    Given that this was the wand of an Arcane Praetorian, there was a distinct possibility that this was a wand of one of the forbidden spells.

    Different spells had different levels of ¡®forbiddenness.¡¯ Necromancy was outright banned. No one was supposed to use it. For other spells, like certain combat spells and illusions, using the spell required authorization of the crown. A wizard researching new spells might get permission to use one as part of their project. The other people that got to use it were the royal guards: the Arcane Praetorians, the Department of Public Security, and certified military units. The idea is that they would always have an edge on lawbreakers and enemies of Baracuel. There were certain spells that you didn¡¯t want just out there for general use. If everyone knew how to levitate, for example, walls stopped being a deterrent to thieves and assassins. If everyone had access to certain potent wardbreaker spells, people were less safe.

    If Mirian¡¯s hunch was correct, that meant it was a good idea to keep her investigation of these glyphs quiet. She was in a much better situation than she had been these past few cycles, but there was no sense accidentally sabotaging that. She reassembled the wand without gluing the handle and hid it at the bottom of her satchel. There were tests she could do on the glyphs she didn¡¯t know, but she no longer wanted to do those tests out in the open where anyone could walk by.

    ***

    If there was one thing Mirian could say about Respected Jei, it was that she was relentless. When it became clear that Mirian¡¯s growth in casting raw spells would leave a half day open, Jei found ways to fill it. This was in addition to preparing for her lectures on the Artifice Design class she was teaching, and attempting to decode the cipher scroll the first spy had carried.

    ¡°Normally, an apprentice would help prepare and grade assignments and assist with busywork,¡± Jei said. ¡°Waste of time for you. I will do it. You will train.¡±

    They worked through the weekend, with Jei showing her previews of the lessons she planned to teach. Mirian took out as many loans as she could from the local banks so she could buy mana elixirs and artifice tools. Those were expensive, though, and Mirian hadn¡¯t gotten the coins from the first spy¡¯s stash this time, so she drank the elixirs in small amounts.

    Even though many of the techniques used in Jei¡¯s arcane orb were lost, plenty had been rediscovered. Jei showed her spells that grew crystals from different ingredients. They started with quartz, which just needed powdered silicon and air. Quartz, however, was a mediocre channel for mana, even when the crystal was perfectly formed (and Mirian¡¯s were not). Corundum crystals needed melted aluminum, which Mirian had to extract from bauxite ore, which was relatively rare and annoying to work with. With her mana constantly depleted even with the elixirs, Jei ended up doing most of the work, but she described each step and spell and made Mirian recite them over and over.

    The real challenge was enchanting within this framework. The glyphs couldn¡¯t just be scribed with ink; a glyphic crystal had to be grown inside a second crystal, and that meant growing both crystals simultaneously. Even Jei, who had spent years on the technique, found it arduous, and unlike her other lessons, she had to stop talking just so she could concentrate.

    ¡°This is fascinating stuff,¡± Mirian said at the end of Seventhday, ¡°but I don¡¯t see how it applies to what I need to be able to do.¡±

    Jei smiled. ¡°Torrian Tower is not the only place where this technique was used.¡± Then she winked.

    It took Mirian a moment, then she understood. Whatever the secret project beneath Bainrose was, it involved understanding this stuff. That still didn¡¯t make sense to Mirian. It was hard to look at Torrian Tower and think it was made before the Cataclysm. She¡¯d learned that the pre-Cataclysm world had advanced technologies, but how had the technology still not been fully recovered in the past four thousand years? It was curious enough to almost make her regret not paying attention in history class.

    When the new quarter started, Mirian trudged through the fresh snow to the place in the north gardens. She started with a meditation, sensing only the faintest outlines with her soul. Like her aura, it was possible to sense it, even without a focus. That was all she could do, though. She measured the currents of her aura. Still not fully recovered. So it would have to be.

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    She pressed Jei¡¯s amulet to her chest and practiced. Jei was busy teaching her two classes, and Mirian had advanced beyond the topics they¡¯d be covering already. She went through the twelve exercises again and again, until her aura felt thin, the current slow.

    Lunch didn¡¯t do much to alleviate the lethargy she felt, but it did help a little. Mirian then made her way to the Bainrose library, and began her search for the functions of the unknown glyphs in the mystery wand.

    Three books she checked turned up nothing. Even the Complete Encyclopedia of Glyphs and Their Functions (Fourth Edition) turned up only one of them, and it just appeared to be an obscure static glyph useful for linking flux glyphs.

    She stopped by the Artificer¡¯s Tower to skim through various item designs, seeing if any of them used the strange glyphs. A dead end, as she suspected. She headed back to the library. Several students waved at her. Mirian waved back, unsure what exactly to do with her newfound notoriety. As far as she could tell, it wouldn¡¯t help her make any more friends. She had the feeling there was some way to use her reputation to help her, but she couldn¡¯t figure out how. She¡¯d never been famous before.

    Well, that wasn¡¯t quite true. She¡¯d won that regional dueling championship, but then shortly after, moved away to the Academy, so it had all ended very quickly.

    That evening at the dining hall, she and Lily chatted, though the conversation was awkward.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Lily said. ¡°I keep thinking¨Cwell, first, I keep thinking, ¡®there¡¯s no way this is true,¡¯ and then I keep thinking ¡®well I¡¯ve probably said that before, she¡¯s probably bored of it.¡¯ I¡­ I don¡¯t know what to say.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ yeah,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do about that.¡± They ate in silence for awhile. Finally, Mirian said, ¡°Tell me about your sister. How are her expeditions to the Labyrinth going? Why¡¯d she decide to pick that as a career, anyways? I hear it¡¯s really dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Have I really not told you about that?¡±

    ¡°Not much. Mostly about, uh, class drama.¡±

    Lily sighed. ¡°Class drama is fun. Well, not the tenth time you¡¯ve heard it, I suppose. You met Beatrice when she visited, right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, she passed through. Is she still up at Frostland¡¯s Gate?¡± That was a smaller fort, northeast of Torrviol. It was about as far away from them as Cairnmouth, but the mountain range between them made the journey to Frostland¡¯s Gate significantly longer. Going north required going a rough and winding road up a pass that gained several thousand feet in elevation, then descended down treacherous snowfields and towering cliffs.

    Going south required taking a train.

    ¡°Yup. She likes it there, the weirdo. It¡¯s cold as the five hells and in the winter you have to cast heat spells just to be able to take a piss. I don¡¯t know how we¡¯re related.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s still exploring the Labyrinth up there?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, her team does exploration and defense. Well, everyone does myrvite defense that close to the frostlands. The spellward is constantly going down. She¡¯s a hell of a fighter¡ªshe took down a wyvern by herself. Apparently, they¡¯ve discovered a vault there. That¡¯s the big study target. Torrviol Academy has dumped a ton of funding into it. If her team can actually figure out how the vaults do their thing¡­ well, it would be big.¡±

    Mirian blinked. ¡°She doesn¡¯t go in the vault, does she? I thought you had to be suicidal to even attempt one. And be armed to the teeth.¡±

    ¡°She goes in, but only to the outer rooms, and only occasionally. They keep trying to get measurements, but there¡¯s an automaton in there that pulverizes anything they leave behind. They¡¯ve named him ¡®Scrappy.¡¯¡±

    The Labyrinth was constantly changing and moving beneath the ground. It required constant mapping and re-mapping. Sometimes it changed while an exploration group was down there, and usually, that group was never heard from again. The vaults, though, seemed to be immune to the chaotic changes that swept through the rest of the structure. The rooms and halls always stayed the same.

    If you didn¡¯t know anything about the Labyrinth, that maybe sounded safer. But the vaults were full of traps, myrvites, Elder automatons, and strange rooms that operated on different rules than the rest of the world. Make it to the end, though, and there was usually a celestial artifact and piles of rare materials. Any group that made it out with the treasure trove was set for life.

    Of course, about one in every five groups actually made it out, and that was after they scouted and prepared for months or years.

    Lily told her more about her sister¡¯s escapades up north. It was a constant battle for survival, and not just from the constant myrvite attacks. Bad weather often stranded hunters, and the buildings and wards were in constant need of repair. Beatrice loved it all. ¡°Because she¡¯s psychotic,¡± Lily explained. ¡°When we were little, a baduka boar got loose in our garden. We were running for our lives, screaming, dodging back and forth so it didn¡¯t gore us. Finally, we got the gate open and shut it before it got out. When it was all over, I never wanted to go outside again. The next day, she was like, ¡®that was fantastic. We should do that again!¡¯¡±

    Mirian had to laugh at that. ¡°She likes the adrenaline rush?¡±

    ¡°Not even that, she likes danger. Which makes her perfect for Frostland¡¯s Gate, I suppose. I, however, will be getting a career in the southlands, in a major city, where it¡¯s warm and there¡¯s no wildlife except songbirds and harmless insects.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so not Alkazaria,¡± Mirian said, smirking.

    ¡°What? Why not?¡±

    ¡°We have insects, but they¡¯re not harmless. And don¡¯t get me started on the scorpions. Spellwards can never quite keep them all out.¡±

    ¡°Oh Gods,¡± Lily groaned. ¡°Is there a repel bug spell? I can not deal with scorpions.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll have to invent it.¡±

    It was good to have a new conversation with Lily. Mirian had missed her friend just being¡­ her friend.

    ***

    That night, Mirian dreamed of a tree. As she climbed through the branches, they split into more, and more, and no matter how high she rose, the branches seemed endless. She blinked, and found herself at the bottom again. She could see the path she¡¯d taken, the broken twigs and scuff marks on the bark. Something drew her eye to the other branches, pristine and blooming with flowers. When she looked down, she realized she was standing on a platform of branches. Beneath her, the tree continued, endlessly. Other branches below were blighted or burning. Between the licking flames and withered flora, though, were spots of verdant growth. There was an emerald leaf, glittering bright in those branches. She reached for it¡ª

    And woke.

    ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± she said, and jumped out of bed.

    ¡°Mirian, it is way too early for that kind of excitement,¡± Lily groaned.

    ¡°Sorry. Be back later!¡± She dressed and practically ran to Bainrose.

    Bertrus was outside the gatehouse. ¡°You¡¯re up early,¡± he said. ¡°Did you really¡­ is Torrviol really going to be attacked?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Akanan army. I¡¯ve sent messages to the Baracuel forts before to warn them, and nothing ever comes of it. Maybe if it came from a respected guard, though¡­? Anyways, just had a brilliant idea.¡±

    Bertrus sighed and unlocked the door for her.

    Mirian rushed down to the first floor where there was a section about older editions. She wasn¡¯t entirely sure what the dream meant¡ªit might not have been one of the weird dreams she kept having, though it sort of felt like one. But when she¡¯d seen that glittering leaf, she¡¯d realized: what was true today was not always true in the past. Some of the laws about banned and regulated glyphs were new.

    She eventually found what she was looking for, gathering dust on a lower shelf: Complete Encyclopedia of Glyphs and Their Functions. A first edition copy. Not so old the glyphs she was looking for hadn¡¯t been discovered, but published before they were regulated.

    A smile bloomed on Mirian¡¯s face as one by one she found almost all the glyphs she was looking for. The last one made her eyes go wide. The energy type was one she¡¯d never used before: gravity.

    She still needed to test it, but she was pretty sure she¡¯d just figured out what the wand she had did.

 Chapter 55 - Restless Knights

    Mirian figured the hidden grove would be perfect for testing out the wand. She re-checked the wand¡¯s core, then cemented the handle back to the shaft and headed out. The nice thing about the light snow on the ground was that it was easy to see that no one had been here except herself. Still, she looked around to make sure she wasn¡¯t being watched, then held the wand so it was pointed at the ground. Visualizing the glyph pattern, she channeled¡ª

    ¡ªand found herself flat on her ass in the snow.

    Grunting, she got back up to her feet and dusted the snow and dirt off her cloak. Alright, so the wand needs to be aligned horizontally for the force to be projected down, she noted, and tried again.

    This time, she floated, just an inch or two off the ground. It made her stomach flutter. It felt like she should be falling as she teetered back and forth in the air. The next feeling to hit her was elation. It was a wand of levitation! She was flying!

    Mirian dropped to the ground, having flown an inch above the ground for all of about twenty seconds.

    She tried again, this time adjusting the direction of the wand as she floated. Sure enough, the direction of the projected force could let her move about, though as she quickly found out (as she threw herself back down into the snow) there was a great deal of precision needed both in channeling the spell and directing it with the wand. Also, the spell was mana-hungry as anything. She¡¯d gone through a big chunk of her auric mana already.

    Professor Jei was right, both her spell intensity and efficiency were abysmal. Right now, the wand was practically useless in her hands, even if it was cool as anything. Reluctantly, she hid it back in her satchel and started on her exercises.

    Midway through the ninth exercise, she stopped. This has me practicing all the classic energy types. But is there an exercise for manipulating gravity, too? She doubted Jei knew one. Was it even possible to use raw spellcasting to do that? There were only a few things one could do with raw mana; the shaper glyphs were critical for most spells. Still, it was worth looking into.

    ***

    It was Fourthday by the time someone finally came looking for her at the grove. By then, the snow had melted again. It was a young man wearing a blue embroidered coat. One of the mayor¡¯s secretaries, if Mirian¡¯s memory served. ¡°Mirian? I¡¯d heard you¡¯ve been coming here.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s me,¡± she said. So people had been keeping track of her.

    ¡°The new mayor would like to see you. Sire Ethwarn, if you haven¡¯t heard. Will you come with me?¡±

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°Sure.¡± Her schedule was wide open, now that she didn¡¯t have classes to attend. She could fit her practice into any part of the day.

    The man took her through Torrviol without any attempt to make conversation. Mirian looked about to see if she could spot anyone keeping an eye on her, but no one stood out. She was distracted by the people who looked and whispered as she passed. She wondered what they were saying. Were they just talking about the bog lion, the dead spies, or had they heard stories about her claim to be looping through time? Maybe Valen could tell her.

    The mayor¡¯s office had been redecorated. Gone were Wolden¡¯s pictures of half-clothed women lounging about in forests. They¡¯d been replaced by tasteful landscape pieces showing the different mountain ranges in Baracuel. Mirian recognized the Littenord range¡ªyou could see it from the higher buildings in Torrviol on a clear day¡ªand the Casnevar Range, which she¡¯d seen from the train tracks plenty of times on her way to and from the Academy. She could only assume the one of colossal glaciers and hundreds of jagged peaks was of the Endelice Mountains deep in the frostlands and the barren looking ones were the Southern Range. She wondered what the Persamans called the Southern Range. Certainly not that, since it was in the northern part of their country.

    Then the name ¡®Nihayabranan¡¯ popped into her head, totally unbidden. Was that what it was called? Where had that come from? It had something to do with the end of the land, or end of the empire. Wasn¡¯t one of the words for ¡®land¡¯ the same as ¡®empire¡¯ in Persaman? And how do I know that? she wondered.

    No distractions, Mirian admonished herself. She needed to have a clear head for this meeting.

    ¡°Sire Ethwarn,¡± she said, giving him a slight bow as she greeted him. The new mayor was a portly man with a handlebar mustache and a warm smile. He was exactly the opposite of the other knight she knew. His hair had the faintest dusting of gray, though it was mostly hidden under his cap of office. The exotic feathers on the left side of the tophat¡¯s red felt band looked out of place, though apparently there was a deep tradition to including them.

    ¡°Ah, no need for titles. Just Ethwarn, my dear. Please, have a seat, have a seat.¡± He gestured to one of the red velvet chairs across from him. He leaned back in his own chair, smiling pleasantly. ¡°Well, you look a lot less intimidating than the stories I¡¯ve heard made you out to be. Ah, there¡¯s our other guest.¡±

    Mirian turned as the door opened again and a woman wearing a distinct red and gold coat walked in. She had her blond hair braided and bound up in an elaborate style, the same way she did when Mirian had first seen her. Her stern demeanor was also the same. ¡°Magistrate Ada,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve met?¡±

    Mirian cleared her throat. ¡°I suppose not.¡±

    That had just made the magistrate uneasy. So they had heard something about her time loop, Mirian was sure of it. ¡°So, dear Mirian, I¡¯ve had my finger to the pulse of Torrviol for most of my life,¡± the mayor said. ¡°And I dare say, I¡¯d never heard of your name until just the other day. And it comes with the most fascinating story. I should tell you, I¡¯m invested in Torrviol. It¡¯s been my family¡¯s home for generations, and I do mean invested, my dear. One of the reasons I was elected. Folks here know I¡¯m not going to just pick up and leave like Mr. Wolden seems to have done. So you can understand that one of the rumors in particular has me¡­ concerned.¡±

    ¡°Would that be the one where Akana Praediar sends an army and wipes out the town?¡±

    ¡°That would be the one!¡± the mayor said jovially. ¡°It¡¯s a bit of a tall tale, I admit¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I get that a lot. You know the dead guys were Akanan spies, right? You¡¯ve looked through the wreckage in the headquarters, you must have seen the scroll before you handed it over to Song Jei to decode, right? And you have the second spy in custody¡ª¡±

    The mayor cleared his throat. ¡°My predecessor¡­¡± he started.

    ¡°He¡¯s dead,¡± Ada said.

    ¡°When?¡± Mirian said, alarmed. ¡°How?¡±

    ¡°Does it matter?¡± the mayor asked, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°Yes, because I might be able to stop it¡ªnext time.¡±

    Mayor Ethwarn looked at the magistrate. ¡°She¡¯s consistent, at least. He died on the 6th of Solen. Isn¡¯t that interesting?¡±

    The magistrate looked like she wanted to interject.

    Mirian ground her teeth. That was after Captain Mandez and the mayor vanished. ¡°Then there¡¯s still another spy. Or someone who didn¡¯t want him to talk. Or one of the conspirators didn¡¯t actually run. Damn! Why can¡¯t things ever be easy?¡±

    ¡°Why indeed,¡± the mayor said, tapping his finger against his desk. ¡°So there¡¯s¡­ there¡¯s certainly some evidence of some nefarious Akanans. Some strange happenings, not the kind we like to have in this fine town. Activities my office is committed to getting to the bottom of.¡± He leaned in slightly, scrunching up his brow, and said quietly, ¡°Between the three of us, my predecessor did not keep very good records of his proceedings. Quite suspicious. However, you probably understand that none of this adds up to¡­ well. It sounds a bit ridiculous to say. Our ally! Akana Praediar!¡±

    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Believe me, I do. So here¡¯s how it will go down: on the 20th of Solen, there¡¯s a massacre in the Akanan embassy in Palendurio. Don¡¯t know why yet, I¡¯ve been trying to solve things here first. Then something else happens. Ships stop going across the Rift Sea. Unrelated, there¡¯s a magical surge between here and Cairnmouth on the 22nd that damages the tracks, so all news to Torrviol stops, except messenger birds. With the spies mostly out of the way, hopefully those messages stop getting intercepted, but you¡¯ll want to send people you trust to watch the post. I don¡¯t know when the Akanan force lands. I do know that they attack here on the night of the 28th, and the Akanans are out for blood. They massacre everyone. They¡¯re after¡­ I¡¯m sure you know about the secret project the Academy is working on, right?¡±

    ¡°I may have heard of it. The Academy took out¡­ substantial loans. It¡¯s only good business sense to figure out what they needed them for. Funny thing I learned the day after I assumed office. Torrviol and the Academy proper are in separate jurisdictions. The Academy has its own charter under the provincial governor. The guard is mutually accountable to both my office and the Archmage, bless his soul. Have you talked much with Archmage Luspire?¡±

    This was all news to Mirian, who paid about as much attention to political jurisdictions as history lessons. ¡°Not all. I see him¡­ well, once a year. At the yearly opening ceremonies. Hmm. What should I find out about him?¡±

    ¡°Ah, you see, I reached out to his office because¡ªit¡¯s Torrviol! We both live here, so it would be nice to get together. Collaborate, you know. I am told he is busy. With what, I suppose we can both only guess at.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll look into it,¡± Mirian said. She¡¯d start by asking Jei and Seneca, since they seemed the most forthcoming. ¡°I think the attack on Torrviol has to do with the project. But¡­ Akana has known about it for years at this point. There must be¡­ I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ll be honest, the politics of it all are beyond me. I can tell you the attack is extremely well planned. And it hits just when the Baracuel army is offloading from the train. The only way the army gets here in time is if someone convinces them. And it won¡¯t be me. I¡¯m just some student.¡±

    Mayor Ethwarn raised an eyebrow. ¡°You are aware of the, hmm, distasteful goings on in Persama?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, the revolt. It gets suppressed. Baracuel can withdraw their troops from the south border, they just don¡¯t seem to know it.¡±

    ¡°Oh does it? Well that¡¯s good to know. I¡¯ll have to keep an eye on that story.¡±

    Mirian thought back. Actually, isn¡¯t it already suppressed? When do I first read about it? She¡¯d thought it was a few days prior, but once again there was so much that had happened. She needed to figure out some sort of way to keep it all straight. Her previous strategy of keeping a tidy journal had worked fantastic¡ªbefore the time loop. ¡°You have money. I¡¯d recommend spending it on zephyr falcons. Remember, it¡¯s five days until the massacre in the embassy. Then the train tracks will need emergency repairs. I can also tell you how Akana Praediar deploys their army¡ªbut it won¡¯t do any good unless we have soldiers. Can you form a militia?¡±

    The mayor stroked his chin. ¡°I have to admit, this isn¡¯t at all how I thought the conversation might go. Are you concerned at all about the investigation of¡ªwhat was his name again?¡±

    The magistrate chimed in. ¡°Gerard Wardrieu. You¡¯d know him as ¡®the man that fell from the roof.¡¯¡±

    Mirian looked at Ethwarn, then at Magistrate Ada. ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re thinking¡­ I think I get it. You¡¯re thinking, what¡¯s my financial angle? I promise you, I don¡¯t give a shit about money anymore. When are my loans due? You checked, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    The mayor and magistrate looked at each other again. They had. They¡¯d find they were all due after the 4th of Duala.

    She let out an exasperated sigh. ¡°Torrviol¡¯s fucked,¡± she said. ¡°Look, I know you don¡¯t believe me. I¡¯m used to that. But the more I learn each cycle, the faster I find¡­ find a way to save it. If there¡¯s an angle I¡¯m missing, if there¡¯s some weird political game being played¡ªI don¡¯t know what it is. I will save this place. I love it too much to let it burn. Just remember what I told you, okay?¡±

    ¡°I do have a good memory,¡± Ethwarn said, tapping his head.

    ¡°Do you want me to¡­?¡± Ada asked, gesturing at Mirian.

    ¡°No. I simply don¡¯t see the point.¡± He gave a big fake grin, part of his jolly facade, and said, ¡°Thanks for having this chat with me, dear. Have a wonderful rest of your day.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. ¡°You both as well.¡± No sense forgetting her manners. As she left, she noted the secretary who had brought her quickly shoving something into his desk drawer. He looked startled, which was strange. The paper on his desk seemed to be about property taxes, which Mirian could not have been less interested in. ¡°Take care,¡± she told him with a wave and a polite smile.

    She took the stairs down and headed out the door to the street, only to nearly collide with Sire Nurea.

    ¡°Mirian Castrella?¡± the knight asked.

    ¡°Sire Nurea! Good to see you. How¡¯s Nico¡ª¡± And then, as Sire Nurea¡¯s brow furrowed, Mirian remembered. ¡°Right, we¡¯ve never met.¡± She sighed. ¡°Hello. Yes, I¡¯m Mirian. What did you want to talk about?¡±

    Nurea was grinding her jaw. Mirian could tell she¡¯d become instantly suspicious. ¡°Let¡¯s walk. I want to lose your tail first.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Who¡¯s tailing me? Someone from the mayor¡¯s office, I know. Anyone else?¡±

    ¡°One of Luspire¡¯s assistants, and an informant for the city guard,¡± she said under her breath. ¡°You¡¯re not concerned?¡±

    ¡°The 20th of Solen,¡± Mirian told her. ¡°That¡¯s when you get the letter from Nicolus¡¯s uncle by zephyr falcon and decide to leave.¡±

    ¡°What are you¡ªcome here.¡± Nurea pulled Mirian by the coat into an alley and pushed her up against a wall. ¡°Start explaining. Now.¡± She didn¡¯t have her weapon out, but Mirian could see from her other hand being by her belt she could have one ready at a moment¡¯s notice.

    ¡°I think I might have assumed you knew more than you do,¡± Mirian said. She nodded to where Nurea¡¯s pistol was on her belt. ¡°It would be really annoying if you killed me. I¡¯d have to do this all over again. What do you want to know?¡±

    ¡°How do you know me?¡±

    ¡°Time loop.¡± Mirian was getting sick of retelling all the facts, so she summarized. Here, she had an overwhelming number of details that would have been difficult to explain any other way: the study sessions in the library, what Nicolus ate, how she put together the study guide, what questions were on the study guide, and several personal stories about family life Nicolus had told her as their sessions had wound down. ¡°So I¡¯ll ask again,¡± Mirian said. ¡°What was this conversation supposed to be about before I screwed it up?¡±

    She¡¯d never seen Nurea so agitated. She let go of Mirian¡¯s jacket and started pacing back and forth. ¡°I was planning¡­ I was planning on warning you about Mayor Ethwarn. He¡¯s the Allard family¡¯s tool. Their influence is limited though, they¡ª¡±

    ¡°Sire Nurea, I respect you greatly. You¡¯ve been good to me. But please hear me when I say I don¡¯t care at all about the noble families and their politics. At all.¡±

    Nurea stopped moving and snapped her head back to look at Mirian. ¡°You should start. Because that¡¯s what this is all about. That¡¯s all any of this is about: power, and who wields it. Why do you think¡ª?¡± She started walking again, and gestured for Mirian to follow her. ¡°You said it didn¡¯t matter if we ran, that no matter what happened, everyone dies. What did you mean?¡±

    ¡°I mean it doesn¡¯t matter. This is why I¡¯m so fed up with everyones¡­ well, bullshit. All this stuff, what grades people get on their exams, how much money people make, Calisto and Nicolus bickering, politicians maneuvering, spies killing people, or maybe getting offed, who¡¯s mayor, the war in Persama, Akana Praediar¡¯s betrayal¡ªit¡¯s all meaningless in the end. It¡¯s all nothing. I¡¯ll tell you what I haven¡¯t told anyone else this cycle, because I know you can keep a secret: even the attack on Torrviol doesn¡¯t matter in the end. You can¡¯t run from this. The Divir moon falls from the sky. That¡¯s how this ends.¡±

    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    ¡°Welcome to my world,¡± Mirian said. ¡°So what I¡¯m doing¡ªand you tell me if you have a better idea¡ªis I¡¯m learning as much as I can about anything that stops any of this. First, I¡¯m figuring out what that secret project is. Does it have to do with the leylines that start erupting? Or is Akana Praediar responsible for that? Or is it something else? The problem is, I¡¯m just one person with few resources and almost no contacts. If you want the Sacristar family to survive, you have to help me help you.¡±

    Nurea stopped walking suddenly. ¡°So you are a con artist! You learn a few details, you tell a big lie, and then you ask for the money. I¡¯m impressed you were able to find out as much as you did without me catching you, but¡ª¡±

    Mirian threw up her hands. ¡°No! Gods¡¯ blood, you really aren¡¯t listening? I¡¯m not asking for money. What in the five hells do I care about money for? It all disappears! But what I need is more people looking into why the world ends. Do you understand? This problem is so far beyond me¡ªit¡¯s so far beyond¡ªlike, I can¡¯t even begin to understand. You came to me, by the way, I¡¯d just like to remind you of that fact. Which means you wanted something from me. I was listening when Nicolus talked about theories of power when he got bored of alchemistry. So what were you planning on offering me in return for sticking it to the Allards? Or was it just blatant manipulation for the benefit of Sacristar?¡±

    That made Nurea clamp her jaw shut.

    ¡°Well, I sure fucked up this conversation, didn¡¯t I? Oh well, there¡¯s always next time. When you do get that letter, think of me, will you?¡±

    Mirian left, and Nurea watched her go. Mirian was too agitated to continue, annoyed more with herself than anything.

    Of course, it wasn¡¯t over. On her way back, Valen stopped her in one of the gardens between the dorms. Her eyes had rings around them, like she hadn¡¯t been sleeping. ¡°Mirian. Can we¡­ can we talk?¡±

    She was still bubbling with fury as she replayed the conversation with Sire Nurea in her mind, thinking of all the things she should have said. She took a deep breath. ¡°Sure. About what?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ in all the loops you were in, did we ever¡­?¡±

    Valen didn¡¯t finish her thought, and Mirian couldn¡¯t figure out what she was talking about. ¡°Did we ever what?¡±

    The other girl seemed to take that as an answer. She burst into tears and ran off, leaving Mirian baffled. She¡¯d never seen Valen cry before. What had even caused it? Magic she could handle, it just took a lot of practice. What she really needed to get better at was figuring out how people worked.

 Chapter 56 - The Cut of Truth

    There was always someone watching Mirian now. As soon as she started to look for it, it was obvious. As she walked into her dorm, she caught sight of one of the people Nurea had pointed out. Oh well. Not much to be done about it. She needed to wait and see if the new mayor or Nurea would believe her.

    Until then, what could she do to prepare? She had to stop bumbling about. She had plans, but they were all loose and unstructured. She needed to get ahead of what came next.

    An idea struck her, and she got out a piece of parchment. She was sketching out a rough map of Torrviol when Lily walked in.

    ¡°Hey roomie,¡± Lily said. ¡°That doesn¡¯t look like classwor¡ªright, I forgot, you¡¯re an apprentice now. Is that what Professor Jei has you doing?¡±

    ¡°No, I¡¯m going to make a map showing the Akanan attack. This is the rough draft. There¡¯s a bunch of fancy symbols military maps are supposed to use, so I¡¯ll have to look them up. Then I¡¯ll use a spell to make copies. When the Baracuel military shows up, I can hand these out. I might even send one to Fort Aegrimere early.¡±

    Lily bit her lip. ¡°Right. I keep forgetting¡­ it¡¯s still so strange. Like¡­ it can¡¯t be real, but then you do things, or know things¡­ I just don¡¯t know what to do.¡±

    Mirian sat back. ¡°I don¡¯t know either. I¡¯ve been struggling with the philosophy of it. My parents taught me to treat people right, no matter what. But everything I do is erased. The mistakes, yeah, but also the nice things. Any kindness I show¡ªwiped out. Compliments I give¡ªforgotten. What¡¯s the point of helping someone if they¡¯re just going to need that help every cycle? Is it better if I just use people to hurry up the progress I need to make? But then, what kind of person do I become?¡±

    Lily sat down on her bed and looked at Mirian. ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t believe it. I¡¯ve been so focused on how this affects me I didn¡¯t even ask¡ªGods, I¡¯m so sorry Mirian. How are you doing?¡±

    Mirian swallowed. She thought about the spike trap, about the sound the first spy¡¯s body had made when it hit the pavement. She thought about the spy who she¡¯d blasted off the battlements several times now, about watching the people of Torrviol get massacred, again and again. She thought of Nicolus, weeping over his dead knight, and of the wails of despair as the very sky fell. She thought of Lily dying in her arms.

    Mirian didn¡¯t intend for her words to come out as a hoarse whisper, but they did. ¡°Not well.¡±

    ¡°Come here,¡± Lily said, and when Mirian did, she hugged her.

    The floodgates burst then. Mirian hadn¡¯t realized how much she¡¯d been holding inside until it all started coming out. Great sobs wracked her body, and when Lily handed her a handkerchief, she soaked it. Her friend sat there and kept her arm around her until Mirian was done.

    ¡°Better?¡± Lily said.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian said, sniffing.

    Lily squeezed her shoulder. ¡°This shouldn¡¯t all be on you. I¡­ I mean, I¡¯ve been focused on my classes, but that¡¯s stupid, isn¡¯t it? None of that¡¯s going to matter if¡­ hey, you said you needed a book, right?¡±

    Mirian wiped more of her tears away. ¡°Yeah. Modern Military Map Notation, or something. I don¡¯t remember if it¡¯s in the map room or the reference books.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got it covered,¡± Lily said. ¡°And I bet I can figure out how to scribe an amanuensis spell to help you copy them.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said, and gave her a soft smile. She was glad to have her friend supporting her again, even if she knew it wouldn¡¯t last.

    ***

    True to her word, Respected Jei was committed. When she discovered Mirian didn¡¯t have enough money to send her map to Fort Aegrimere by zephyr falcon, she gave her the coin, then gave her even more to continue buying mana elixirs and artifice supplies.

    ¡°It is hard to commit to this path,¡± Jei said. ¡°Each reminder that I must sacrifice takes more will to overcome. Even with the preponderance of evidence present, it is easy to let doubt creep in. It is¡­ Iliyia told me the phrase. ¡®An existential crisis.¡¯ Most people do not worry about death until they near old age. They cannot comprehend what they do now is in vain. I am glad I have the strength to keep my eyes open.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll remember,¡± Mirian promised.

    ¡°I know you will.¡±

    They worked through the weekend, but that was no change for Mirian. She rarely took the time to rest anymore. Jei continued to correct her technique, no matter how minor the error. ¡°Selkus taught me the phrase in your language, ¡®practice makes permanent.¡¯ You cannot practice wrong. When you are tired, it is even more important. When you are too tired to do it right, stop. You understand?¡±

    Mirian did. ¡°What does Professor Viridian think of all this?¡±

    ¡°Most of them have an ¡®alternative hypothesis,¡¯ Viridian included. Sefora is still, what did she say? Sitting on a fence. I have done my best to convince Iliyia. She is waiting on your last prediction. I must admit, it will be a great reassurance to me.¡±

    ¡°And what¡¯s Archmage Luspire up to?¡±

    Jei frowned. ¡°I do not know. He does not talk to me, and most of his people do not talk to me. They do not like me.¡±

    ¡°But they¡­ invited you. You had to travel months, Zhighua is¡­ really far away.¡±

    ¡°People are messy, and rarely consistent.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t that true,¡± Mirian mused.

    ¡°I am both useful to the project, and a thorn to his ambitions. In the end, it seems not to matter. Back to drills,¡± Jei said. ¡°You are struggling with displacement most, so that must be our focus. First, remember that all mana you are channeling must originate from your aura, but the exponential drop in potency from distance can be mitigated¡­¡±

    Mirian sighed, and got back to her lessons.

    ***

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    The night of the 19th, Mirian woke sometime before midnight and then spent a long time staring at her ceiling. When it was clear that sleep would not return to her, she dressed and headed to the plaza. The night was cold, so she cast a warmth spell and sat down on the rim of the fountain to watch. The guard on watch¡ªit wasn¡¯t Bertrus, he was off duty¡ªsaw her, but said nothing.

    Above, the Divir moon hung ominous in the sky, like a sword dangling above them, ready to plunge into Enteria¡¯s heart. She watched it, then her eye was caught by a bright flash in the sky. A streak, not unlike lightning, came across the horizon from the south. It flashed again as its wings unfurled and it came to rest atop the roost tower atop the Royal Courier¡¯s building. The zephyr falcon¡¯s wings still crackled with electricity as it let out a keening call.

    She stayed in the plaza. No sense giving anyone an excuse to think she tampered with the message.

    Mirian wasn¡¯t sure how Sire Nurea figured out where she was, but she made her appearance, Nicolus in tow. She looked at the guard, then back to Mirian. I wonder if she¡¯s trying to figure out how quickly she can shoot us both.

    Eventually, she sat down next to Mirian. ¡°What¡¯s your source?¡± she said.

    ¡°Time travel. It was your uncle, wasn¡¯t it Nicolus? Please explain to Nurea how long I¡¯ve been your classmate and how at no point did I demonstrate even basic conversational skills, never mind the ability to manipulate events on other continents.¡±

    Nicolus flipped his spellbook open. It was a very nice spellbook, with gold leaf on the spine and beautiful designs framing each page. Mirian caught a glimpse of the spell on the page. It was for deconstructing light-based illusions. He started casting. Mirian waited patiently until he was done.

    ¡°How many times were we in the same class?¡± Nicolus asked.

    ¡°I have no idea,¡± Mirian said. She started counting on her fingers. ¡°Were you in Artifice 274 with me?¡±

    He closed his spellbook. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s her. Nur, I think we need to consider what she¡¯s saying.¡±

    ¡°How do I protect him?¡± Nurea said.

    ¡°You don¡¯t,¡± Mirian said. She was beginning to see the crux of the problem. Sire Nurea had dedicated her life to protecting Nicolus. It was her entire purpose. Now she was being told he would die and there was nothing she could do about it. ¡°I don¡¯t know why it falls on me. I don¡¯t know what the Gods have seen, or even if this was their doing, though I don¡¯t know how else it could have happened. I plan to save Torrviol, whatever it takes. It¡¯s my second home. It¡¯s just¡­ it¡¯s not going to happen this cycle.¡± She looked up at the sky.

    Sire Nurea followed her gaze to the moon above, then looked back. In a flash, she pulled out her gun and pointed it at Mirian. The guard by Bainrose started and drew his own pistol, leveling it at Nurea.

    The guard, Nurea, and Nicolus all started talking at once.

    The guard said, ¡°Sire, please put the gun away,¡± while Nicolus said, ¡°Nur! What in the hells are you doing?¡± and Nurea said, ¡°What if I shot you right now?¡±

    ¡°I told you, I¡¯ve been shot to death a lot now. I¡¯m used to it. Do it, and next cycle I tell you something different and see what that does. Do it too many times, and I stop interacting with you and look for someone that both takes me seriously and listens.¡± She said it as if she had ice in her veins, though in reality her heart was hammering. It was still too early in the cycle. She needed to see how the rest of it played out.

    ¡°Sire¡­¡± The guard approached, pistol still leveled.

    Nurea snarled, and holstered her gun. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she said, gesturing. When Nicolus hesitated, she said, ¡°Now!¡±

    Mirian watched her go. There were people like Jei, who could handle the truth. And then there seemed to be the type that couldn¡¯t. She pondered what she would tell Nurea next time. What lie explained what she knew so that people would listen, but not despair?

    ***

    The next round of despair came later in the afternoon. Mirian was in the Academy¡¯s crafting area, watching Ingrid demonstrate how to better precisely cut and shape brass pieces. A great deal of the technique involved using force spells in the right spots and the gratuitous deployment of measuring sticks.

    By then, another zephyr falcon had arrived, this one from Palendurio. Its miniature thunderclap had come three hours after lunch.

    This time, the mayor came to her. He was flanked by two of his assistants, the one she¡¯d seen and another she hadn¡¯t. He also was accompanied by a Torrviol guard that she didn¡¯t recognize. Mayor Ethwarn¡¯s tophat was crooked and his doublet rumpled. This time, he looked scared.

    ¡°Tell me about what happened,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°It¡­ it happened like you said. But why would¡ªI¡¯ve met the governor! He¡¯s a fine man. A fine man. Why would he order¡­? Something¡¯s wrong.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Mirian assured him. ¡°The army group in Akana Praediar was going to attack Persama, but now, just as it¡¯s ready to depart, it coincidentally has a new target. There¡¯s a lot of bad luck involved in our predicament, but it seems suspicious to me. Tell me more about the massacre. I only know what I read in the papers.¡±

    It came spilling out of Ethwarn, while one of his aides shifted uncomfortably. A small crowd had gathered, and listened in.

    Rumor had it that Lord Governor Quintus Palamas, patriarch of the powerful Palamas family, had ordered the extermination of the Akanan embassy. The entire thing had been burned to the ground, the fire so intense it had blackened most of the bodies beyond recognition. The few people who had made it out, shouting about a conspiracy, had been cut down in the streets in front of crowds of people. The attackers had been wearing the uniforms and armored masks of the Palendurio Guard. They had then retreated to the governor¡¯s mansion. Another rumor spread that the governor was dead, maybe in retaliation, or maybe assassins had gotten to him first. Then there were whispers that Akanan merchants were planning on burning down warehouses, including the grain warehouses. Several merchants had been either driven out of town or beaten to death as fear of food shortages ignited mobs. There were clashes of mercenaries and crowds at the docks.

    Mirian let the story run through her mind again, trying to memorize the details. Then she dug out a pile of battle map copies she and Lily had made, and said, ¡°Order the maintenance crews to prepare to repair the tracks to Carinmouth. I¡¯ve already sent a copy of the Akanan battle plan to Fort Aegrimere, but I have more copies here. You might want to send them another one, marked with the seal of your office. Tell them you got it off one of the spies, perhaps. I¡¯m not a strategist, I barely know anything about the military, but I imagine if you know exactly how they attack, it will be easier to fight back. And raise a militia. We will be badly outnumbered, so everyone who can fight will be needed. The evacuation of Torrviol will have to go by road. There¡¯s banebriars and frost scarabites along the trail, so you¡¯ll need teams to clear a path to the river.¡±

    When the mayor left, Ingrid stared at her. ¡°Why are you really here?¡± she finally asked.

    ¡°To learn from you.¡±

    ¡°What do you need artifice for? You know the future.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right. I know in the future, I¡¯ll need to be better at artifice.¡±

    The older woman¡¯s gaze continued to bore into her. ¡°You don¡¯t think we¡¯re going to stop them?¡±

    ¡°I know we¡¯re not going to stop them. Not this time. But for me, there will be a next time. You all¡ªyou¡¯ll just forget.¡±

    That sent a shiver through Ingrid. She suddenly turned and walked away. So did several other people in the crowd. Scaring people isn¡¯t going to work. Already, it was becoming clear there were people who simply couldn¡¯t handle what the future held. But how else should she talk about it? She needed people to know the scope of the problem, or they might think they could just put it off. Would things go any better if she lied to them?

    After that, word seemed to spread quickly that Mirian was more than just some student. As she left the crafting center, people were already looking at her differently. She wondered what she was supposed to do. In most of the previous loops, people had just ignored her. Now, they all watched her, but she was equally alienated from them.

    She headed back to the grove to be alone with her thoughts. Jei found her there, simply contemplating the wilderness.

    ¡°They finally made their decision,¡± her mentor said.

    ¡°Who?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°All the wizards and magi on the project. They¡¯ve agreed to show you.¡±

    Mirian looked at her and stood, excitement building as she realized what Jei was talking about.

    ¡°The project we¡¯ve been working on. The one beneath Bainrose. The one behind the stone doors.¡± She smiled. ¡°Are you ready?¡±

 Chapter 57 - Behind the Doors

    As Mirian and Jei approached the plaza, a delegation of arcanists just outside Torrian Tower approached them. There were five of them, each wearing their formal Academy coats. Mirian recognized Professor Torres standing in the back, with High Wizard Ferrandus leading them. Mirian had seen Ferrandus quite a bit. He was always by Archmage Luspire¡¯s side during official ceremonies. He often stopped by to observe lectures as part of his duties. He kept his gray beard braided, four silver beads on each side, and wore the traditional pointy hat of his office. That made him easy to recognize in a crowd. She wasn¡¯t sure why she had expected the lead researcher on whatever was down there to be some mysterious figure, rather than the head wizard of the Academy. In retrospect, it made a lot of sense.

    ¡°Mirian Castrella,¡± Ferrandus said, peering over his spectacles. ¡°You¡¯ve caused quite a stir in Torrviol.¡±

    ¡°Honored Ferrandus,¡± Mirian said, tilting her head in acknowledgment.

    ¡°My colleagues have been¡­ persistent.¡± He glanced toward Torres, who was stone-faced as always. ¡°Let us talk as we walk.¡± Mirian walked beside him as they headed towards Bainrose Castle, and his colleagues fell in behind him. They were all older men, except for Jei and Torres. ¡°As you are aware, it was Arcane Praetorian Adria who was in charge of project security. It seems we were played for fools. Whatever illusion magic the impostor used, our routine detection spells didn¡¯t catch it. They also must have known Adria well, for they played her part flawlessly.¡±

    ¡°You knew there was a hostile force in Torrviol. Dozens of break-ins, over months. Dead maintenance staff¡ªwell, hmm, maybe not in this timeline. Either way, though. How were they able to evade the Academy¡¯s wards?¡±

    Ferrandus cleared his throat, and Mirian could see a slight tension in his jaw. He did not like being spoken to like that. Still, he humored her question. ¡°An embarrassing confluence of events, I¡¯m afraid. Archmage Luspire was working closely with Captain Mandez to apprehend the suspects. You see the problem, of course.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Mirian echoed. It wasn¡¯t a very satisfying answer. Surely Luspire would have realized he was being played for a fool when the break-ins continued, week after week. She didn¡¯t want to press Ferrandus too hard. If he became too offended by her insubordinate attitude and stopped giving her information, that would make it that much harder in the next cycle. She had to be patient. ¡°Respected Jei¡ªsorry, Professor Jei¡ªsaid she decoded the spy¡¯s scroll.¡±

    ¡°Yes, quite an interesting mathematical formula being used in the cipher. She can show you how it works later. I don¡¯t know how relevant it is anymore. It was directions for how to sabotage the alchemical recipe being used in some of our spell engines. That man you pulled off the roof seems to have had his eyes on Sefora Seneca¡¯s office. Of course, since he never got there, the scroll ended up being useless. I¡¯m shedding no tears for that criminal, though. If more of his ilk met his fate, the world would be a better place.¡±

    Mirian nodded. Ferrandus clearly didn¡¯t believe in the loop like Jei did. If he did, he would realize breaking the cipher was critical not for just understanding the first document, but any other documents the spies had encrypted. The fire in their headquarters had probably burned all the documents, but either he didn¡¯t believe Mirian could go back to when they weren¡¯t piles of soot, or he didn¡¯t realize that the attack would kill him soon. What was he after, then? What benefit did he hope to gain from her? Something¡ªshe was sure of that.

    They made their way to the third floor again, growing silent as they passed students. The project was still secret, after all. Another indication Ferrandus believed in a future. Once they were through the door, they began winding their way down the long thin staircase Mirian had followed Jei down. ¡°There is some debate among my colleagues. Song seems to think your knowledge originates from the tinkering we¡¯ve been doing with the device. You are familiar with the work of the Elder Gods?¡±

    ¡°You mean the stuff they built before they ascended? Like the Labyrinth?¡±

    ¡°The Labyrinth, of course, but I mean some of the other things they left behind. Strange constructions, scattered here and there. Many in places that are quite difficult to study. So the discovery of one, right here where the Academy is, was quite a boon.¡±

    Mirian furrowed her brow. ¡°But if they¡¯re all over the place¡­ surely Akana Praediar has their own to study. Why would they go to war over this¡­ thing? What does it do?¡±

    Ferrandus let out a hearty guffaw. ¡°If we had any idea what it did, this project would be a lot easier. Perhaps they think it¡¯s some sort of weapon. Or perhaps it is precisely because they studied a relic of their own that they think they know how it works. We have research-sharing agreements with several of the arcane universities in Akana Praediar, though, and they¡¯ve mentioned nothing of the sort. I know whatever you told the mayor has turned him into a believer, but I still hardly think our close ally would escalate things to war so quickly.¡±

    Mirian opened up her satchel and dug out another copy of the battleplan. Wordlessly, she handed it to Ferrandus who paused on the stairs to open it. Annoyance passed over his face, and he handed it back to Torres.

    As they resumed moving, Torres said, ¡°The map was obviously made by an amateur, but this looks like standard Akanan assault doctrine. It approximates the usual army composition. Airships excepted, of course. That one is harder to believe, especially the size of them.¡±

    They made it to that same basement that Mirian had saved Jei in. Dried blood still caked some of the stones. That¡¯s fine, I hadn¡¯t been using it anyways, Mirian thought. The torn rug Jei had used to bandage her was also still lying on the ground. Some of the boxes had shifted around, and obviously, the spy¡¯s corpse was gone now, though there was a smear of dark soot on the floor where he had landed. Burnt flesh, streaked across the stone like a charcoal mark.

    She shivered as they passed by.

    The tunnels beyond seemed to link with the catacombs, but a large wooden barricade had been erected to block that passage up, complete with lines of faintly glowing glyphs that indicated active wards. The other direction led down a sloped tunnel. The dark stone was clearly ancient, while the wooden staircase leading down it was new construction. They found themselves passing by another set of tunnels, these far more cramped. A person might crawl through them, but never hope to stand. A thin trickle of water dripped out of one, while a little spell engine worked to pump it away.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    At last, the ramp bottomed out and they came to a spiral staircase. This time, Mirian could see all the construction was new. Drilling spells had sliced a smooth column of stone, and then they¡¯d gone and drawn stone from the surrounding rock to make a staircase.

    When they got to the bottom, some of the older wizards were breathing hard. It was a lot of stairs. They faced a door, again, made recently. It was about seven feet tall, and made of steel and oak, glyphs scribed into every plank and bar. It had four keyholes and no handle. This was not the giant stone doors she had expected. Does the Academy team even know about that passage in Bainrose?

    Ferrandus said, ¡°Please turn around, Mirian.¡±

    She obliged, and heard the glyph keys being slide into the locks. She felt that prickling feeling of powerful magic at work across her skin, then heard the movement of heavy steel. From what Ferrandus had just said, she assumed that opening the door triggered a divination spell. The other spells probably had to do with alarms and protection.

    ¡°There we go! And now, one of the Divine Monuments. It¡¯s quite wondrous to behold.¡±

    Mirian turned, and the door lay open to her. She stepped forward into the cavernous room beyond.

    Great lanterns had been set up all around the colossal room to illuminate it, so the whole thing was bathed in an orange glow. To her left, she saw those colossal doors of stone she had marveled at¡ªbut from the other side this time. If the Academy did know about the other passage, they seem to have decided it was easier to go around than through.

    Scattered about the room were more supplies, and various spell engines, the function of which Mirian hadn¡¯t the faintest idea. Some were on, some were off. There were empty desks for work, and calculation machines¡ªvery expensive¡ªatop some.

    Of course, it was the colossal thing in the center of the room that drew Mirian¡¯s eyes. It was at least a hundred feet tall, so as large as the room was, the Divine Monument, as Ferrandus had called it, took up most of it. It was higher even than the giant stone doors. It resembled a sphere made of curved spiderwebs, only no spiderweb was ever so intricate, nor as large. More, around the sphere were floating blocks; she could see nothing holding them up, but given the size and weight, it seemed impossible a levitation spell was keeping them aloft either. The material seemed to be made of obsidian at first glance, but there was a faint sheen of color to the substance that was metallic. What the color was, she couldn¡¯t say¡ªthe reflected light looked more like an afterimage of a bright spot than anything real. It reminded her of the indigo color that an ultraviolet light spell produced. Glyphic crystals, she realized. Jei had hinted at that. It wasn¡¯t just part of a reinforcing structure, though. The entire thing was made of them. More, it was glyphic crystals of a sort that defied identification.

    ¡°Walk around it,¡± Torres said.

    Mirian stopped gaping and did so. As she moved, though, the entire structure changed, with parts of the structure fading from view entirely, and other parts suddenly appearing. Moving back to where she had started, the structure went back to the way it was. It wasn¡¯t random, then¡ªthe parts that faded from view and parts that materialized stayed consistent. Walking around it, she got the sense of a floating octahedron in the center of the room, layered a dozen times. Then, it seemed more like an icosahedron with waves of curved spines surrounding it. Then, a web-like sphere again.

    She looked to Jei, mouth hanging open. ¡°It¡¯s a four-dimensional structure,¡± she blurted out.

    ¡°Oh, very good!¡± Ferrandus said. ¡°Takes some of the duller arcanists a bit to work that out. Song, you were right. There is something there after all.¡±

    ¡°Can I touch it?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°Sure,¡± Ferrandus said, shrugging. ¡°Takes a lot more than that to damage it.¡±

    Mirian approached it, watching more pieces appear and disappear, until she was at the base of the structure, looking up through the incredible intricate mass of twisting strands and floating pieces. Gently, she reached a hand up, and it ran into something she couldn¡¯t see. As she moved slightly to the left, the thing she was touching came more into view. As she ran her hand up and down that piece of the Monument, she could feel the object taking a different course than the one she could see. Vertigo seized her, and she stumbled back. ¡°Amazing,¡± she breathed.

    ¡°You immediately understand why we are considering a new hypothesis,¡± Ferrandus said. ¡°If there¡¯s a¡­ how should we put it? If there¡¯s a time anomaly in Torrviol, perhaps this is the source. It seems to me, though, that moving an object through time would be ridiculously energy intensive. Who knows what limits the Gods have, certainly not I, but one gets the sense of a certain, hmm, admiration of efficiency, when one studies the holy texts. Far more efficient to send energy through time.¡±

    ¡°So you got it to work?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°Therein lies the problem. No. We haven¡¯t.¡± Ferrandus strolled around to one of the desks and placed his hand on one of the piles of papers atop it. Mirian could see they were packed full of the kinds of equations Jei had been teaching them. ¡°I was rather hoping the connection you have to the Divine Monument was¡­ simpler. Perhaps triggered by proximity. Or perhaps it¡¯s another dead end. We¡¯ve certainly run into a lot of those.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s more of these¡­ monuments,¡± Mirian said. She realized she¡¯d seen one before. A chill ran through her as she recalled the strange sanctum and eldritch titan sitting on a throne.

    ¡°Probably. Almost certainly,¡± Ferrandus said, taking her comment for a question. ¡°Some recent research in the Labyrinth suggested there might be some sort of connection with an extra dimension. Spatial dimension, that is, like with this. The problem is the most interesting things we could study are in the Labyrinth, which is a place not at all conducive to research. We have another research team scouring the historical records for more examples. There are some indications the Mausoleum of Ominian was one of these structures, but that great temple would have been destroyed two thousand years ago with the fall of the Persamian Triarchy. The descriptions are of a building that changed size and structure as one moved through it. Thought to be a translation error or some other kind of misunderstanding for the longest time, but when we found this¡­ ah, but I¡¯m rambling. This is all to say, if you¡¯re connected to this monument, by some sort of accidental activation or dimensional anomaly, perhaps we can get out of the rut we¡¯ve found ourselves in. Song said you¡¯d be game, to lightly paraphrase.¡±

    Mirian looked to Jei, who nodded almost imperceptibly. ¡°Of course,¡± she said. ¡°What do you need me to do?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve come up with some tests,¡± Ferrandus said, and when he smiled, it was one of those fake smiles that didn¡¯t touch his eyes. Throughout their conversation, nothing Ferrandus said was rude, but Mirian got the sense that to him, she was just a pawn. Maybe she was useful; if not, she could be discarded. ¡°Follow me.¡±

 Chapter 58 - Tests

    There were arcane devices and spell engines all around the Divine Monument. Some were clearly for taking mana flow measurements, and others measuring various types of energy. Still others, Mirian had no idea. They had glass bulbs with strange colored fluids, twisted brass pipes snaking all over, and metallic protrusions. The glyph sequences were unfamiliar, and the devices looked hideously complex.

    High Wizard Ferrandus directed Mirian to a simple chair that had been set up next to another of the devices. This one had intimidating looking silver spikes, linked by rubber tubes that led to several glass vials full of an angry looking crimson liquid.

    ¡°What¡­ does it do?¡± Mirian asked warily.

    ¡°We feed mana into the Monument, then look for reactions or resonance from your aura,¡± Professor Torres said. ¡°You¡¯ll feel strange. Shouldn¡¯t hurt.¡±

    There were more tests after that. At one point they used a drop of her blood in another machine. She kept feeling the prickling feeling of magic running over her aura. As the wizards turned on spell engines, glyphs on the Divine Monument would light up, then fade. She watched as they cast divination spells she¡¯d never seen before. Mirian didn¡¯t know what any of it meant.

    As the tests progressed, Ferrandus was getting increasingly agitated. The wizards with him shared glancing with each other, perhaps anticipating what these results would mean for them later.

    On the fifth device they used, Mirian began to wonder if her soul was being affected. It was difficult to focus in on it, since it felt like her aura was being scraped at, but it seemed the devices only interacted with her aura. She searched for that strange hole in her soul. It was still there, unmoving. If the Divine Monument was interacting with her, it was in some way that neither she nor the Academy¡¯s best arcanists could detect.

    As they wrapped up the last test, Ferrandus was grinding his teeth. He approached Jei and began talking to her in angry whispers, though not so quietly that Mirian couldn¡¯t hear him. ¡°Worthless, Song. We have introduced this liability¡ªfor nothing!¡±

    Jei kept her composure. ¡°We haven¡¯t tried everything. Besides, secrecy does not matter anymore. Our enemies know, and therefore we should be more generous with our allies. Selkus Viridian¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªis not as smart as he thinks he is,¡± snapped Ferrandus. ¡°And also a liability. Do you know what our potential donors were concerned about, last banquet? The Palamas were worried about him, specifically. The Bardas and Allards discussed ¡®trends of worrisome research in radical ecology.¡¯ We probably missed out on a pile of doubloons because Luspire doesn¡¯t want to¡ªhells, why am I bothering to rehash this? No, this isn¡¯t a problem of needing more minds. We tried growing plants next to the Monument. Selkus would simply say we didn¡¯t try growing enough! The brightest minds in the Academy are already here. It is not a problem to be solved by quantity. Get her out of here. I need time to think.¡±

    Ferrandus took a position over on the other side of the room. Torres and the other arcanists stayed behind to work with the devices, though what they were doing was still beyond Mirian. Jei gestured for her to follow, and they left. She was apparently used to being dressed down by Ferrandus.

    ¡°You can see why I left my homeland,¡± Jei said as they walked. ¡°After seeing it, I have spent a long time contemplating the nature of reality.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Mirian, because she couldn¡¯t think of anything else to say. In another life, she would have been perfectly content dedicating herself to studying it. As it was, she doubted she had anything to contribute. Still, it was good to know what it was the Akanans were after. Now she just needed to figure out what they thought it did.

    As they made their way up the spiral stair, she said, ¡°Have they figured out how to open the stone doors? There¡¯s a faster way down if they can.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Jei said. ¡°Ferrandus called it a distraction. Here,¡± she said, handing Mirian a scroll. ¡°The mathematical formulas you need to break the spy¡¯s cipher. Memorize them.¡±

    Mirian took it and placed it in her bag as they continued back up. For a while, they walked in silence. Then Mirian said, ¡°What¡¯s the other way in? The one through the Griffin Hall passage?¡±

    If Jei was surprised Mirian knew about that, she hid it well. ¡°I will show you.¡±

    They started up the ramps, while Mirian debated whether or not to tell Jei the other revelation she¡¯d had. As they reached the storage room, she blurted out, ¡°I¡¯ve seen a place that looks the same as the Divine Monument. I dreamed it.¡±

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Jei said.

    Mirian told her about it: about the shifting rooms that seemed to phase in and out of existence as she walked, about the strange materials it was made of¡ªand of course, of the colossal thing on the throne, gaping wounds all over its body. ¡°I still don¡¯t know what it means,¡± she added. ¡°It felt¡­ real. Even when I woke.¡±

    ¡°It sounds like the descriptions the archivists found of the Mausoleum of Ominian.¡±

    A shiver ran down Mirian¡¯s spine. ¡°But that was destroyed. I mean, that was part of that whole thing with the end of the Persamian Triarchy. There was that crazy priest who thought they needed to sacrifice a bunch of people, and then¡ªlook, I didn¡¯t pay great attention in history class so I don¡¯t remember the details, but even I remember that temple was destroyed. Along with most of the city, right? It¡¯s one of the best documented divine interventions. My priest back home talked about it too.¡±

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Jei looked at Mirian. ¡°Perhaps it was a vision of the past. Perhaps some part of the Mausoleum survived. There is much still buried in Persama that archaeologists still seek. I cannot say what it means.¡± She went over to one of the walls, past where the patch of dried blood Mirian had left was, behind several of the crates. ¡°Here,¡± she said, and pulled one of the old torch sconces. A part of the stone wall swung open.

    Automatically, Mirian pulled out her spellrod and tried casting a light spell. As she started to draw mana, a wave of dizziness swept over her. The mana slipped from her grasp, and she doubled over, retching.

    ¡°You need to rest,¡± Jei said. ¡°Those devices changed your auric flow. It is temporary, but it will take time to recover.

    That bothered Mirian. She hadn¡¯t realized how screwed up her aura had become. What if it is permanent? she worried. Once again, she wondered what things came with her when the loop reset. Her memories clearly traveled with her, as did hunger pangs. But wounds didn¡¯t. What about the state of her aura?

    She kept these thoughts to herself as Jei took her through the route in the underground that ended at Griffin Hall. Mirian had mapped most of it, but missed one of the shortcuts. Jei had also subtly warded the last door from detection, making it so Mirian¡¯s reveal iron spell would have never found the lever.

    They emerged from Griffin Hall, and Jei locked the door behind them. ¡°Go, what is the phrase? Take it easy.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said, and departed, mind still whirling with the implications of what she had seen.

    ***

    Fourthday, confirmation came that afternoon that the tracks south of Torrviol had been damaged. Fifthday, another zephyr falcon arrived from the south, bearing news of the escalating conflict. Without Mirian¡¯s forewarning, people might have simply fretted over the worrisome news. But with Mirian¡¯s loud proclamations that it was a prelude to war, it sent waves of panic through the town. She began to hear a word whispered when she passed: Prophet.

    Mirian found herself at the mayor¡¯s office again, advising him.

    ¡°The spellwards around town and south of us all have gone down, but we can¡¯t waste time repairing them,¡± Mirian told him. ¡°Everything has to go into the evacuation of those who can¡¯t fight, and preparations for those who can.¡±

    Mayor Ethwarn had taken on a sickly pallor, and there was a tremor in his right hand. ¡°How are we to evacuate if the trains are going to be commandeered by the military? The myrvite infestation on the road is bad¡ªthere¡¯s no way we can move everyone.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps the commanders will let people ride the train back south once it unloads the soldiers. They¡¯ll have added cars, though it still won¡¯t fit everyone. With the repairs on the tracks being quicker, it may be we can fit an extra train. I don¡¯t know when Fort Aegrimere sends their division, but there may still be time.¡±

    The mayor wanted her to have more answers than she had. She could tell he wanted to flee, but after campaigning on the idea that ¡®flee¡¯ was the one thing he wouldn¡¯t do, he was having trouble reconciling his desire to protect his reputation with his desire not to be in the middle of a war zone.

    After their meeting, Mirian roamed about town, taking in the changes. She watched the recently formed militias practicing in the fields, drilling with both wands and what firearms people had scrounged up. From what she¡¯d heard, Professor Cassius had given his classes a rousing speech about patriotism and country before dismissing them. Many of his students now were arrayed on the fields south of Torrviol, sending spells into piles of stones that had been set up as targets. Cassius himself was directing drills that had arcanists and townsfolk practicing taking cover from artillery, then popping up to fire back. It was nice to see Platus among them, rather than blowing himself up like he usually did.

    Professor Viridian and a dozen other professors, including Professor Eld, were scribing spells by assembly line, simply taking whatever spellbooks people passed them and copying the glyphs down as fast as they could. She noted the ground lightning spell, which would be useful against the chain-lightning artillery shells, and force shield, which wouldn¡¯t do much to bullets, but might do much better against shrapnel and debris.

    Professor Torres was leading an effort with Ingrid to build a piece of artillery atop one of the fire-fighting wagons in the student crafting center. Getting even a single weapon of that size built in five days would be an impressive accomplishment. Right now, it didn¡¯t look like much¡ªjust a bunch of steel and scrap laid out in piles, with Torres pouring over blueprints.

    Not everyone was preparing for battle, though. Plenty of people were gathering up their belongings, and there was a constant stream of people heading toward the train station, where a permanent crowd of desperate people were pressing the beleaguered workers there for any information. She¡¯d seen others crowding around the docks, trying to purchase fishing boats, as if they would be able to navigate the narrow rapids of the river.

    Mirian visited the ruined building that had been the spy¡¯s headquarters. Someone had erected a warning sign near the spike pit, and the building was mostly a mess of collapsed rubble and charred wood. The guard had already gone through looking for anything of value, but Mirian wanted to know the layout of the building. She drew a map of the rooms so she would better remember it, and used divination to find any remaining glyphs or mechanisms she might have missed. Reveal iron mostly showed a mess of nails and rebar, but she also found the remains of two safes, though each was open and the materials inside scorched beyond recognition.

    She wondered what the best use of her time was now. So many things were now in motion that it was hard to keep track of everything. For now, it seemed best to stay mostly passive and observe the outcome.

    As she made her way back towards the dining hall, though, she realized that passivity may not be possible. Priest Krier was leading a delegation of some dozen acolytes and townsfolk. The acolytes carried the symbolic lightbringer torches, the white fire also trailing thick white smoke. The townsfolk had with them a variety of tools. When they spotted her, they started walking right toward her. This was clearly no chance encounter. The way the townsfolk carried their tools, it was clear they had not brought them for farming or because they thought Mirian might need help repairing something.

    ¡°Mirian Castrella,¡± Priest Krier boomed out, clearly wanting this to be a public spectacle. It worked. Already, people were turning to see what was happening. ¡°You stand accused of heresy. Come with us.¡±

 Chapter 59 - Confrontation

    Anger bubbled up in Mirian as she looked at Priest Krier. Torrviol is threatened by attack, and this is how you spend your time? The acolytes with him stepped forward, torches still burning with white fire.

    Mirian took a step back. ¡°I¡¯m not a heretic,¡± she said, trying to suppress her anger. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to save as many lives as I can.¡±

    ¡°You claim to be a new Prophet, but do not follow the¡ª¡±

    ¡°No I don¡¯t,¡± Mirian said, interrupting him, taking another step back.

    Priest Krier¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°If you predict the future, then you claim Prophesy. Do you deny it?¡±

    Mirian thought about trying to explain that she was only saying what had happened in previous loops, which was her past, but gave insight into the current future, but she didn¡¯t think wordplay was going to save her. Instead, the anger in her erupted. ¡°In past loops, I did come to you. You dismissed me! You did, holy one! And when you did, Torrviol burned. Do you know what happens if I stay silent? You die. All of you do! I¡¯ve watched as the people of Torrviol are slaughtered like animals.¡±

    She was shouting now, with such intensity that the acolytes approaching her had halted. Krier wanted a spectacle? She¡¯d give him one. ¡°Torrviol and its people stand on the brink of annihilation, and this is what you think is important? You¡¯d rather try to dish out mob justice to someone trying to warn everyone than organize a defense?¡±

    Priest Krier¡¯s face grew grim. ¡°You dare lecture me¡ªyou dare lecture me? It is clear you are a heretic, as only a heretic would speak to a priest like that.¡± His hand went to his chest.

    Mirian¡¯s eyes grew wide. Was he about to work soul magic? What divine spells did the Luminate Order even know? She had only ever heard of the healing magic they worked¡ªbut what if Xipuatl was right?

    She felt a hand on her shoulder. A man from the crowd had stepped forward. ¡°Holy one, I beg your forgiveness, but this is not how things are done in Torrviol. If you have criminal charges to levy, they are presented to the magistrate¡¯s office.¡±

    There were murmurs of assent from the people gathered. ¡°She hasn¡¯t tried to steal your congregation, holy one,¡± a woman carrying a basket of bread called out.

    ¡°You would stand by this heretic?¡± Priest Krier called out. His hand pressed tighter on his chest. Mirian couldn¡¯t help but stare at that point. She felt her anticipation building.

    ¡°Follow the rule of law, priest,¡± an older man called out.

    ¡°He is following the highest law,¡± one of the acolytes said, eyes reflecting the white torchlight.

    ¡°Is that so?¡± the man standing by Mirian¡¯s side said. ¡°And what was Shiamagoth¡¯s law?¡±

    More murmurs echoed through the crowd. Everyone there knew it; they¡¯d heard Priest Krier say it. Power is only righteous if it protects life.

    The priest opened his mouth, then closed it.

    ¡°A wise priest once told me, ¡®live like the prophets,¡¯¡± one of the women said. Krier said it regularly in his sermons, Mirian knew.

    The crowd had turned against him. Mirian could tell Krier knew by the way his face shifted. The anger that had been bubbling out now was veiled by a false smile. As a priest, he had a great deal of power, especially against anyone deemed unholy or heretical. Here, though, he had overstepped his authority, and everyone seemed to know it. ¡°Then the magistrate will hear it, just as you have all heard it. And when the case is decided, I hope you all will reflect on the choices you made,¡± Krier said, voice calm, but tinged with venom.

    He and his congregation turned back towards the temple. Not towards the magistrate¡¯s office, Mirian noted. Maybe he would submit the charges later, but he likely didn¡¯t want to walk through the crowd that had formed behind Mirian.

    Mirian realized she was trembling. The anger had drained out of her and left only a bundle of frayed nerves. She didn¡¯t even like presenting artifice projects in front of class. What in the hells was she doing yelling at a priest in the middle of the street? ¡°Thanks,¡± she managed, to the man who had stepped forward first.

    ¡°The way I see it, you¡¯re doing what you think is right. And from what I¡¯ve heard, you have seen something. I¡¯m sorry that a disciple of the cosmic wisdom has strayed into¡­ well, you shouldn¡¯t need to face down a mob. Not in a civilized town.¡±

    She swallowed and nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll keep trying to do what¡¯s right,¡± she said. She wasn¡¯t sure what to do after that. So many people were staring at her. Mirian hurried along, muttering thanks to the crowd that had saved her.

    As she stepped into the dining hall, Mirian realized that if she was going to stir the cauldron as much as she had here, she was going to make enemies. Some of them might not announce themselves so obviously, either. There was only a short time left, but it was still plenty of time for very unpleasant things to happen. If she was going to proceed, she needed to be with people she could trust.

    ***

    She spent the rest of the day staying close to the western part of Torrviol where the militias were practicing. She moved back and forth between talking to some of the militia captains about what to expect from the Akanans and observing work in the crafting stations.

    Watching Ingrid and Torres work was a treat. They¡¯d clearly worked together before, and each knew the other well enough that they rarely bothered to talk. Torres would mark some part of the blueprint, and Ingrid would start sculpting the parts, while Torres worked on finishing the glyphwork on a previous piece. Torres¡¯s enchantment work was amazing. She didn¡¯t seem to mind Mirian asking her about her technique, so Mirian spent several hours seeing how she prepared surfaces with alchemical reagents, then used a modified mirror motion spell to scribe with precision.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Normally, artillery used cylinders of quartzite as a mana conduit, since pure quartz crystals large enough to fit the need were difficult to find, but Jei had apparently found time to help grow a corundum crystal. No jeweler would appreciate the arm-sized ruby column she¡¯d made since it was pale and full of flaws, but it would give the artillery piece a hell of a punch.

    Cassius had come up with another idea, which was to bury spellbombs along the arc where the Akanans would set up their artillery, and wanted to know where they would have the greatest effect. Professor Cassius looked at Mirian differently as she pointed out where she¡¯d seen the guns light up in the tree line. It wasn¡¯t quite with respect, but maybe it was approaching it.

    Sixthday, the final zephyr falcon Mayor Ethwarn had sent out returned, streaking in from the north in the late morning.

    The Akanans had landed on the Baracuel coast, and seized two of the villages there. Blood spatter had decorated the scroll case the communique had come in; the letter had only just made it out.

    The mood in Torrviol took on an even more desperate tenor. Caravans of townsfolk and scared students began making their way south, even though the myrvite infestation south hadn¡¯t been cleared. It was doubtful they would fare well. Mayor Ethwarn deputized a committee to organize the official evacuation efforts. Supplies piled up by the tracks, while the committee started issuing special passes that would let people board the first train out when it arrived. Children and their parents had first priority, and a lottery system would decide who was next. Rumors quickly started that some of the richer merchants and students were willing to buy these passes, which led to Mayor Ethwarn issuing a strong declaration in the forum that such behavior would not be tolerated.

    With the invasion of Baracuel now confirmed, though, people didn¡¯t just look to run. Militia recruitment swelled. The makeshift training grounds filled with people looking to practice spells. Unfortunately, firearms and ammunition were in short supply, and the gunsmiths in Torrviol could only work so fast.

    The mayor had also appointed a council of captains to the head of the militia, which included Cassius. That evening, they invited Mirian to attend. The council met in one of the militia captain¡¯s houses, a very nice place at the edge of town. His two servants brought platters of fancy appetizers, while a music box played a soft symphony. Mirian was more interested in the complex glyph sequences in the music box than the food, and studied it while she waited for the meeting to begin.

    There were five captains, though four of them were merchants. They¡¯d been appointed for their expertise in keeping inventories and moving goods, as well as their wealth and connections. Their knowledge of war was more dubious, so the discussion of tactics fell to Professor Cassius and Captain Moliner, a wiry looking woman who managed to frown even more often than Cassius. She kept her black hair short, and her pale blue eyes kept darting around the room like she was scanning for a mouse to snatch up. Her voice, though, was calm and collected.

    ¡°Bainrose Castle will be the command center. We¡¯re preparing positions on the hope that the Fort Aegrimere Division makes it in time to hold them, otherwise, we¡¯ll only have small arms fire and spells to hold it. How are the strongpoints coming along?¡±

    ¡°Steadily,¡± one of the businessmen said. ¡°The novices are diligent workers, but slow. We don¡¯t have nearly enough bricks or stone to do a proper job. Two of the brickmakers fled town, but their apprentices are running the kilns now.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s eyes were drawn to the map on the table. Several glass beads seemed to represent the strongpoints in question. They were fanned out to the south and east of Bainrose, with one by the plaza and another by the forum. ¡°Have you accounted for the underground?¡± she asked.

    ¡°The underground?¡± another of the businessmen asked.

    ¡°The spies mapped it out. Squads of Akanans will be coming through the northern catacombs directly into the library basement. One of them is the passage I showed you, Cassius. The other is nearby, but I haven¡¯t mapped it. I don¡¯t know if they¡¯ll try to have soldiers rappel down from the airship if they haven¡¯t gotten a signal from the castle, but we should be ready for it. Another group seems to make its way through the underground and pops out near the forum, behind the lines. Griffin Hall has one passage, but I don¡¯t know where the second is. The maps are restricted.¡±

    Cassius looked at Mirian, again seeming to reassess her. ¡°Several of my colleagues know where those maps are. I¡¯ll get in touch with them. We¡¯ll need to put some blocking squads at the entrances. The militias should be able to handle that. Build barricades out of furniture, then strongly discourage anyone from tampering with them.¡±

    Mirian examined the map for anything else they¡¯d missed, replaying the movement of the soldiers through the fields and streets. She could hear the screaming in her mind, broken up only by the sound of artillery. ¡°Torrian Tower can only be used at the lower levels. The top part gets blown up, and falls here,¡± she said, pointing. ¡°We might disrupt their artillery enough to save the tower, but we might not. And if the artillery doesn¡¯t do it, the airships might.¡±

    Cassius leaned back in his chair, puzzled. ¡°A simple artillery shot shouldn¡¯t be able to take down Torrian Tower. The only thing with stronger construction is Bainrose, and that¡¯s only because the sheer quantity of stone. Do they have a¡­ special weapon, perhaps? None of the Akanan shells I¡¯m familiar with should be able to do that.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± Mirian admitted.

    Captain Moliner talked about deployment next. ¡°Untrained citizens will do best on the defensive. The fallback positions will be here and here, which will still keep a corridor open to Bainrose for supplies and reinforcement. If we can hold this line between the castle and the lake and keep the station out of direct enemy fire, we stand the best chance of lasting until reinforcements can be brought up from the south. We¡¯ll need to hold five days at least.¡±

    Mirian felt her mouth go dry, and something must have shown on her face, because one of the businessmen said, ¡°Is something wrong?¡±

    She forced a smile. ¡°No,¡± she lied.

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t think we can do it,¡± another said, misinterpreting Mirian¡¯s apprehension.

    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Moliner said. ¡°Even with all this preparation, we¡¯ll be outnumbered, outgunned, and underprepared. You can count the number of people who have seen combat in this town on one hand that¡¯s missing fingers. I can¡¯t speak to what will happen to unit cohesion or morale when these youngsters start having flame-burst shells landing near them. It might hold. It might break immediately.¡±

    The third businessman was grinding his teeth, looking at the map. ¡°Why don¡¯t we simply evacuate the town? Why even try to hold, if it¡¯s so hopeless?¡±

    Moliner replied. ¡°There¡¯s simply no way to get everyone out on the trains, or the roads. Not in time. We can continue to evacuate people if we hold long enough. That will take a lot of time. We only have the one route.¡±

    The man was still looking dejectedly at the map. ¡°It still doesn¡¯t make any damn sense. It¡¯s Akana Praediar. Why would they do this?¡±

    Mirian had no answer for him.

    As silence fell over the room, the mood grew dark. Mirian wanted to say something, like don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll all get another chance to get it right, you just won¡¯t remember, but that wasn¡¯t likely to help. They conceived themselves as people in this current moment, with lives that would either continue or end; that some parallel version of themselves with only a month of memories¡¯ difference would survive would do nothing to lighten the shadow of doom they were living under. She felt she should say something, but was at a loss as to what might help.

    She was saved by a woman bursting into the room, the orange and white cloth tied around her arm indicating her as another of the militia members. ¡°The repair car just arrived at the station. The tracks are fixed, the train is on its way! They¡¯re coming!¡±

 Chapter 60 - Battle Plans

    Morning of Seventhday, the train pulled into the station to wild cheering and celebrating. The people of Torrviol shouted and danced in the streets. Some wept, some fell to their knees and prayed. Mirian watched with mixed emotions. The hope was inspiring, and it brought a smile to her face. Inside, though, she knew how it would end. For her, the joy had that weight of foreknowledge dragging it down.

    The first cars to unload did so with some ceremony; Baracuel army officers marched out, followed by disciplined lines of sorcerers and rifle infantry. Beneath those masks of discipline, there must have been a storm of emotions too. Did they know how desperate the defense would be? How little mercy the attackers would show? She wondered how much the situation had deteriorated in Palendurio or Cairnmouth. No doubt, they¡¯d heard of the first magical eruptions.

    But whatever trepidation they felt was mixed with the stirring emotions of watching a crowd cheer their arrival, praying to the Gods for the salvation that had just arrived.

    Without meaning to, Mirian found that tears were slipping down her face. She turned away from the spectacle. She wanted to feel that hope too. That¡¯s not your path, though, she reminded herself.

    Mirian retreated to the militia practice grounds, but found the students and citizens were all lining up to see the army.

    It was a different assistant who found Mirian, a woman with more south-western features. ¡°What happened to the other guy who usually gets me?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Dunno. No one can find him,¡± the assistant said.

    That made Mirian pause. She¡¯d meant the last comment as conversational filler, just an idle observation. ¡°Do you think he¡­ ran off? When¡¯s the last time anyone saw him?¡±

    ¡°Fifthday, I think. He didn¡¯t show up for work yesterday. Ethwarn was furious. Timmon might have tried to take one of those caravans south. Never struck me as a coward, but sometimes people surprise you. The meeting is in the heraldry room. Ethwarn wanted you to meet the general.¡±

    Mirian followed her to the mayor¡¯s office, then through the ornate double doors. The heraldry room had banners of most of the noble houses draped along one wall. Another was full of the portraits of previous mayors. A fine mahogany table was the centerpiece of the room, surrounded by equally fancy looking chairs made of wood that had a deep red hue. The tops and arms of the chairs were decorated with silver that seemed like it had been hastily polished only recently, as bits of tarnish were still visible.

    Mayor Ethwarn was already there, talking with a woman with gold epaulets. Atop those were little ivory lions, so that a tiny cat was frozen in a roar on each shoulder. The four golden cords across the breast of her jacket and the fancy bicorne on her head marked her as a general of the army. At first glance, Ethwarn and the general seemed about the same height and size, but unlike the mayor, there was a certain grace and power the woman carried herself with. Four officers stood at attention just behind her, while a fifth had a notebook open and was already scribbling notes down at the table.

    ¡°Ah, Mirian. This is General Hanaran. She¡¯ll be leading the defense of Torrviol.¡±

    General Hanaran raised a contemptuous eyebrow. ¡°This¡­ is your source? A child?¡±

    Mirian bristled at that. She was a young adult, not a toddler. ¡°What do you know about Marshal Cearsia?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Why on Enteria does that matter?¡±

    ¡°Because she¡¯s leading the attack,¡± Mirian said, and sat down at the table.

    That didn¡¯t quite knock the wind out of General Hanaran¡¯s sails, but they did deflate slightly. She turned back to Ethwarn. ¡°I¡¯m to believe there¡¯s a new prophet, and it¡¯s her? There must be another explanation. Perhaps she knows what she knows because she¡¯s a spy for the enemy.¡±

    Ethwarn sighed heavily and took a swig of the wine cup in front of him before replying. ¡°She did kill two Akanan spies right here in town. I can¡¯t really explain away the foreknowledge. Oh, believe me, I tried. Had her followed, searched through her dorm¡ª¡±

    Mirian sat up straighter at that. He¡¯d what!?

    ¡°¡ªinterviewed some acquaintances, pulled all her records, and no one could find anything. No exchange of information, no fancy arcane telegraph, and certainly not an aerie of zephyr falcons hiding in her closet. The priests are furious with me, tried to go around my back, the varmints, but I¡¯ve decided what¡¯s important is my home, right here. Baracuel. I¡¯ll leave it to the philosophers to figure out the how and why of it.¡±

    ¡°What of the airships? Did you confirm them?¡±

    ¡°No. No one¡¯s seen those. Or rather, if they have, they were killed before they got the message off.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s exaggerating the size,¡± General Hanaran muttered. ¡°None of the design documents in our collaborations ever attempted to lift something that big.¡±

    Mirian rolled her eyes. ¡°And if you¡¯d developed a war-changing secret weapon, you¡¯d tell everyone so they could prepare?¡±

    Hanaran glared at her, then looked away. ¡°Why is she here, again?¡± she asked no one in particular.

    ¡°I know how the Akanans attack. I believe you have one of my maps.¡±

    The general looked at the crude map copy on the table. ¡°I was told it was taken off their spies. Was I misinformed?¡±

    The mayor cleared his throat. ¡°We thought it a bit premature to declare a new prophet when we sent it. Torrviol needed you to take it seriously.¡±

    ¡°Then you are vouching for its accuracy?¡±

    Mayor Ethwarn clenched his jaw and looked at Mirian. Then he looked back to the general and said, ¡°Yes I am.¡±

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    Hanaran made a grunting noise that might have been affirmation. ¡°It¡¯s the obvious path for an assault, especially as they believe Torrviol is essentially undefended. The veracity of the intelligence will make little difference to my defense. And I need no encouragement to take seriously the defense of my country and people.¡±

    The doors opened again, and Cassius, Moliner, and the other militia captains came in. The introductions were brief, and then the meeting began in earnest.

    General Hanaran had brought along a much bigger map, and her assistants laid it out so it covered the center of the table. ¡°Your militia¡¯s plan is too basic, though it will serve a vital role in helping hold a defensive line. However, holding ground will not be enough. We need to establish positions for reliable counter-battery fire. And rooftop positions. The 6-inch guns can be loaded with airburst shells to ward away the airships¡ªor take them down, if they get cocky. We¡¯ll need sorcerers to help get them into position. Captain Cassius, I am told you can assist with this?¡±

    Cassius nodded.

    Hanaran continued, placing elegant wood pieces on the map to represent where her regiments would go, and what the militia would need to do to support operations. Soon, the map was full of colored pieces.

    Mirian quickly became lost at the terminology and concepts as Hanaran continued her explanation of the plan, the contingencies, and how the defense would progress. It was a small comfort that the businessmen captains also seemed lost, and kept interrupting with questions.

    Finally, one of them said, ¡°With respect, General, it may be the case that the Torrviol Militia may not need to know all the details of the defense. Perhaps it would be simpler to establish lines of communication bringing the militia into your chain of command, and a unified logistics effort.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s also the matter of evacuation of the civilian population,¡± Ethwarn said. ¡°While I of course understand that martial law allows the military exclusive use of the train, there¡¯s already a great deal of unrest from even the few hours of delay in letting people board. You do plan to let them leave, yes? I think the fewer civilians you have rioting and needing to be fed, the more effective the army effort will be.¡±

    The conference turned to a mix of argument and agreement. General Hanaran was adamant the train not return to Cairnmouth, as it would then be out of her army¡¯s reach if it was needed during the attack. Eventually, she relented, and would have the train start moving people south to the Cairn River, where a temporary camp could be established. The shorter route would allow for several trips before the Akanans arrived. Mirian mostly listened, munching on the steady stream of appetizers until she had an embarrassingly high stack of the tiny silver plates they came on, and one of the servants had to surreptitiously remove them.

    Eventually, the meeting wound down. As they adjourned, with General Hanaran still giving her the stinky-eye, Mirian had no real conception of how good the plan was, but it had to be better than what she¡¯d seen before.

    ***

    Back at the dorm, she found Lily sitting in the commons holding her head in her hands.

    ¡°Hey,¡± she said, sitting next to her.

    Lily looked up at her. She¡¯d been crying, Mirian could tell. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ I didn¡¯t want to believe it, but it¡¯s all really happening, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± said Mirian, putting her arm around Lily.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t get one of the passes out of town,¡± she said, sniffling a little. ¡°What should I do, Mirian? Is my sister safe? Should I go north? What happens if I stay?¡±

    Mirian closed her eyes, and felt her own tears leaking out. She couldn¡¯t just say it doesn¡¯t matter. Not to her closest friend. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Every time is a bit different.¡±

    ¡°What should I do?¡±

    ¡°Do whatever will make you happy,¡± Mirian said.

    The problem was, Lily knew her too well. She could see right through her. ¡°We¡¯re all going to die, aren¡¯t we? Even with the changes.¡±

    Mirian kept her eyes closed and swallowed hard. Then, reluctantly, she nodded twice.

    She felt Lily start to tremble. ¡°But¡­ this one¡¯s not real, right? You get another chance, right?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how many I get. But I¡¯ll see you again. I¡¯ll see you all. And you won¡¯t remember. It¡¯ll still be you, just with the last month missing. So in a sense, you¡¯ll be okay, no matter what. Because I¡¯m not going to stop until you are.¡±

    Lily squeezed her. ¡°I know you will. It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s scary though.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian agreed.

    They stayed like that for some time, until Lily finally said, ¡°Well, we should get some dinner, right?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Mirian said, even though she¡¯d already gorged herself on the tiny appetizers.

    As they walked to the dining hall, Lily said, ¡°Wow, how do you get used to people staring at you?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t. It¡¯s still weird. Like, the other day a bunch of strangers had an argument with the priest about if I was a heretic or not, and they totally saved me. But like¡­ what do I do about that? Am I supposed to go around shaking their hands? Just sort of say a general ¡®thank you¡¯ and then move on? Stop laughing¡ªit¡¯s awkward! Of course, I can take all these classes on magic, but there¡¯s not a single one on social etiquette for time travelers.¡±

    The stares lasted in the dining hall too. Then, Mirian caught the eye of a student she recognized, one who had been making herself surprisingly scarce this cycle.

    ¡°Hey, I gotta go talk to someone,¡± she told Lily.

    When Valen saw Mirian approaching, she stood up and started heading for the exit.

    ¡°Hey, Valen. Wait. We need to talk.¡± She followed Valen out the door, and saw the other girl was running. Yeah right, like you can outrun me, Mirian thought, and broke into a run to catch her. Her stomach, full for the second time this evening, wasn¡¯t happy about this, but she was able to grab the other girl¡¯s arm. ¡°Hey. Hey!¡± she said.

    ¡°What?¡± Valen snapped at her. ¡°What can we possibly have to talk about?¡±

    Mirian threw up her hands. ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe about what¡¯s going on in that tiny brain of yours? Every cycle you¡¯re lurking around, then suddenly, you¡¯re not. I don¡¯t get you. At first, I thought you hated me. Then last cycle you ditch classes to do counter-espionage with me, and then this cycle you¡¯re like a magnet that won¡¯t come close.¡±

    Valen looked at her like she¡¯d started growing eyeballs on her face. ¡°You really don¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡°Look, I understand math and glyphs. I¡¯ve never pretended to be any good with people.¡±

    She looked crestfallen again. When she spoke, it was in a tone Mirian had only heard her use once before. ¡°I never wanted to say it, because when it happens the right way, it¡¯s understanding. People say things all the time. They profess to speak from their heart, but then forget the noises they made like a tree forgetting its leaves in winter. There¡¯s no truth in words. Deeds are all that matter. You don¡¯t look at what a person says, you look at how they say it. Our bodies are a jumbled up mix of feelings, ambitions, and volatile chemicals, and the mind is just a pitiful augur trying to figure it out. When people say stuff, it doesn¡¯t mean anything. It¡¯s not something to be said. It¡¯s something to be felt.¡±

    It was the most words Valen had ever spoken in a row without throwing a barb Mirian¡¯s way. She didn¡¯t know what to say.

    ¡°Ah, what does it matter? Tell you what. You want to understand me, meet me in the Stygalta Arena, prepared to speak a real language.¡±

    Mirian looked at her. Five hells, really? she thought, then said, ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll be there in an hour.¡±

    And Valen gave the faintest hint of a smile.

 Chapter 61 - The Duel

    The Stygalta Arena was almost entirely deserted. The sky was darkening, and when classes had been canceled, so had all the other activities. Mirian was still being followed¡ªby the mayor¡¯s new assistant and someone from the militia¡ªwhich she took some comfort in. From what she could tell, the militia member was a sort of rotating body-guard of sorts, but also to make sure she didn¡¯t suddenly run for the hills. At the very least, it meant someone would be able to help her if another mob showed up. She showed both of them a thumbs up before she stepped through the east arch into the building. The militia member responded in kind, while the mayor¡¯s assistant dramatically rolled her eyes. Mirian had her dueling gear and rapier, so it was obvious what she intended.

    ¡°Valen!¡± she called out as she walked in.

    ¡°Right here,¡± she said. She was sitting by the courtyard fountain, her own rapier in hand. The first thing Mirian noticed was that there were no glowing glyphs on the blade anymore. ¡°You can¡¯t really die, right? Unless what you¡¯ve been telling everyone is a load of shit. And if I die¡ªdoesn¡¯t matter either, does it?¡± She stood.

    ¡°Right here?¡± Mirian asked. The courtyard was empty except for the two of them, and full of shadows where the glyph lamps cast them. It was a lot larger than the usual dueling circle, and it had the fountain and statues obstructing movement. ¡°What are the boundaries?¡± Mirian asked, looking at the four arches that led to the courtyard. Two led to staircases up to the dueling areas, and the central arch to the eximontar track.

    ¡°Why have them at all?¡± Valen tossed Mirian a burin.

    There was only one glyph she needed to chisel out to break the sequence. It felt strange to be destroying a part of her own sword. Part of her couldn¡¯t believe she was doing this. It wasn¡¯t, perhaps, the most rational thing to do. But some part of her felt like she needed to do this. Maybe she felt indebted to Valen for helping her with the Akanan spies. It had, after all, led to this cycle. Maybe the injuries Valen had inflicted on her just didn¡¯t feel that big compared to what she¡¯d been through. Maybe she felt a bit sorry for her because it turned out her parents kinda sucked. Maybe it was pure curiosity. Mirian had always been too inquisitive for her own good.

    Maybe it was all of those things, or none of those things, and Mirian was just deceiving herself. As Valen had just said, people were messy, and as much as she didn¡¯t understand them some days, she thought maybe that was because they didn¡¯t understand themselves.

    She finished brushing the powdered glyph dust off her rapier and tossed the burin back to Valen, then raised her blade. There was always a surge of adrenaline that came with the anticipation of a dueling bout, but it felt far more intense now. The past two cycles, she¡¯d barely touched the arena, but it wasn¡¯t like she was rusty.

    She could tell Valen was feeling the same thing as she raised her own blade. The excitement had made her eyes go wide and she could hardly contain the glee or her nervous energy.

    Valen came in fast like she normally did, but Mirian was ready for it, and ready for the followup feint, stepping to the side so that her opponent¡¯s blade went flying by. For a fraction of a second, she had an opportunity to deliver a quick slash to Valen, but she hesitated, remembering the safety enchantments were gone. Instead, she circled around and waited for another attack.

    The courtyard rang with steel on steel as their blades clashed. Valen, seeming to realize her aggressive maneuver had exposed her, was now more cautious. Both of them circled, looking for an opening. Mirian came in for a few attacks, but quickly retreated. As they clashed again, Mirian realized that despite what she¡¯d said about being terrible about reading people, it wasn¡¯t entirely true. The language of Valen¡¯s movement told a story that she didn¡¯t even have to think about; it was in fact entirely necessary to not think, because thought was so much slower than reaction. When she was really focused on a fight, her inner voice quieted until it was inaudible, and she simply flowed. Right now, her movements were sluggish and hesitant. She was too worried about what might happen.

    Both of them were breathing hard, starting to drip sweat despite the chill in the night air. Mirian stepped back and lowered her blade, then breathed in deeply. Then she settled into an on guard position and stopped thinking.

    She saw how Valen¡¯s eyes kept darting to the fountain, and knew she was trying to use it or the walls to position Mirian in a way where she couldn¡¯t use her footwork. She let herself be drawn forward, close to it, then went on the offensive. Their blades rang again and again, the echoes off the walls forming a chorus. When she paid more attention to her instincts, and less to her thoughts, she picked up on things. Valen¡¯s body did tell a story: she liked to put on a brave face and talk tough, but beneath it, Mirian could see the fear in her. Not of her rapier. There was something deeper.

    She came in fast, with powerful slashes forcing Valen back, past the fountain and towards the walls. When she tried to maneuver towards the arches, Mirian circled around and came in with a series of feints that sent her rival backpedaling as she failed to parry the attacks. The rapid retreat made her lose her balance. Mirian gave her no time to recover; she came in with a powerful slash that sent Valen hoping back again, only a few feet from the courtyard wall.

    Mirian could read the counter-attack coming, as if Valen was an open book. The way she planted her left foot, the way she tensed slightly, the way she tried to guard the space between them with tentative thrusts as she prepared.

    She was ready for it. Mirian ignored the first feint, then parried Valen¡¯s incoming lunge, closing the distance as she brought her blade around in a circle until their cross-guards were nearly touching. Taking advantage of the momentum, she then pushed Valen¡¯s blade outward hard. Her rival¡¯s eyes widened in shock as her blade went flying across the courtyard, clattering loudly on the paving stones. She took two quick steps back, looking for an opening to retrieve her blade, but then her back hit the wall. Mirian followed, shoving her up against the wall with her off hand, then raised her blade up so that it was just in front of Valen¡¯s throat.

    Mirian couldn¡¯t help but give her rival a feral grin. The exaltation running through her was uncontainable. She was dripping sweat, breathing hard, and her body was practically vibrating with adrenaline.

    Valen looked up at her as Mirian loomed over her, her own breathing quick. Her eyes darted down to the edge of the rapier, then to Mirian¡¯s eyes. She could feel the heartbeat of the other girl in her hand, and then she felt Valen straining to bring her head up. At first, Mirian thought she was just scared and trying to escape, but then she saw her pursed lips and the lust in her eyes.

    She was trying to kiss her.

    Mirian let her rapier fall to her side and let out a harsh laugh. ¡°So that¡¯s what this is about? Gods above, I am blind. Why didn¡¯t you just¡­ say something?¡±

    ¡°I did,¡± Valen said, flushing.

    ¡°Not in any language I spoke. I thought you hated me, and here I was trying to figure out why.¡± She stood there, rapier still in hand. Valen hadn¡¯t moved from the wall. Mirian stood there, looking at her as if for the first time. She thought of Selesia, and felt guilty, but then shoved that guilt aside. In this loop, Selesia had never met her. Going forward, if she wanted to replicate the conditions of this cycle, she never would meet her. Mirian missed her, and the ache of loneliness she felt seemed ever-present. Was it so wrong to take love where she could find it? Who did it hurt? Or was that just an excuse she was using to justify herself?

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    It was the emptiness inside her, yearning to be filled, that won out. She so badly wished for someone else to share the burden she was carrying. To be with someone who understood her. Valen wasn¡¯t that, but she was there, and she understood at least a piece of who Mirian was.

    Mirian leaned over and kissed her.

    It wasn¡¯t at all like kissing Selesia. She had never had that primal desperation that Valen had. Afterward, she didn¡¯t want to talk, just wanted to look up at the stars together. Mirian didn¡¯t. Each time she saw the Divir Moon, she remembered how this was all going to end. Still, she looked up with her.

    ¡°It won¡¯t last,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°I know,¡± Valen said. ¡°Nothing does, in the end.¡±

    ***

    The next two days were a whirlwind of activity. No one ever made an official appointment or announcement, but it became assumed that Mirian was essentially a sixth captain of the militia. Her bodyguard became something more of a secretary as people consulted her on defensive emplacements, or asked for another detail about the attack. Preparations continued, with lines of trenches being dug just around the border of the town, and dozens of buildings were knocked down so the rubble could be used to create barricades. Only two trainloads of evacuees were dropped off before the train continued back to Cairnmouth so it could get one last load of supplies and emergency recruits.

    On the evening of Firstday, she saw Valen again. Again, Valen didn¡¯t want to talk. Part of Mirian did; she liked talking through things, and Gods there were a lot of things to talk about. Part of her, though, was fine turning her brain off and just speaking¡ªas Valen liked to call it¡ªa real language. One that needed no translation or interpretation, the one that was a whirl of emotion and impulse.

    When she looked at Valen now, she saw a different person. She couldn¡¯t forget all those small cruelties, but she was starting to understand that Valen hadn¡¯t seen them that way. Despite her insistence that actions and expression were a universal language, it seemed to be only part-true. Their lives had been so different, and as a result, their understanding of people diverged. Still, even across that gap, there was a connection. There was something profound in forging a chain across such a wide chasm.

    Secondday, she went on a tour of Bainrose with Respected Jei.

    The library was a mess. Dozens of shelves had been moved and pushed against one wall, and in such haste that hundreds of volumes and scrolls had fallen to the ground only to be trampled underfoot by soldiers as they moved in ammunition crates and communications equipment. It seemed like a desecration of a sacred place; Mirian only took solace in knowing the destruction wouldn¡¯t last.

    Soldiers were rolling out magical telegraph lines to the different command posts and through Bainrose. General Hanaran¡¯s voice had gone hoarse from nonstop discussions as she consulted her commanders, issued orders, and poured over long lists of supplies.

    In another corner, two priests and several acolytes were setting up beds for the soon-to-be-injured. Priest Krier was nowhere to be seen. ¡°Do we know what Priest Krier is up to?¡± Mirian asked Jei.

    ¡°No. Rumor is he is gone. Evacuated, maybe, but he did not tell the others. They are not happy.¡±

    Strange. Mirian wasn¡¯t sure what to make of that. It didn¡¯t seem like the actions of a man who thought she was a lying heretic. Always more layers, she mused.

    With so many new people entering Torrviol and more food redirected south to the temporary evacuation camp, food was getting scarce as the army churned through the grain silos and the Academy stores. One regiment was sent out to the lake to fish, even though they were badly needed to dig trenches and erect barricades as well.

    They passed Cassius as they walked along the western wall. He looked like death warmed-over. He pushed the Academy sorcerers under his command hard, but he¡¯d pushed himself even harder.

    ¡°Rest, you idiot!¡± Jei snapped at him as they passed. Cassius just rolled his eyes and made a rude hand gesture, his usual formal as depleted as his aura. He did slouch down by one of the parapets to sit.

    His efforts hadn¡¯t been in vain, though. He and the other Academy sorcerers had managed to position nearly eight guns on the towers of Bainrose, and then had managed to get more of the six-inch guns on the roof where they were currently aimed towards that spot in the sky where the airships would come from.

    It was unspoken as to why Jei was taking Mirian on this tour. Most of the people knew that it was unlikely for the defenses of Torrviol to hold. Still, they clung to that hope, that they might. But Mirian and Jei knew with absolute certainty that they would not.

    ¡°When I was a girl,¡± Jei finally said, ¡°One day I was tasked with watching my little sister, and fixing up the garden wall. When I was pushing the wheelbarrow of bricks past her, I hit a rut, and the wheelbarrow tilted. The bricks came tumbling down. Bao was always crying. It was when she didn¡¯t cry I knew how bad she was hurt.¡±

    They continued walking along the battlements. Despite Jei¡¯s steady voice, Mirian could tell how hard it was for her to tell this story. ¡°At first, I begged her not to be hurt. Then I knew I must act. The hospital was too far. The Baracuel embassy was close. I had heard many times how hated the Baracueli were, but I also had heard they had a priest. The priest did his best to heal Bao¡¯s head wound. He probably saved her life. But Bao was never the same after that. The priest could not repair her mind.¡±

    They continued walking, then stopped as Jei gazed out east, over the lake and forests, the distant hills hazy, the sky looming low with the thick bellies of clouds. ¡°I kept the story hidden from others to hide my shame. My parents cried a lot, but they also knew it was an accident, and when they told the story, they omitted that it was I who was pushing the wheelbarrow. Some of my relatives still do not know the truth. You understand why I am telling you this.¡±

    Mirian nodded, feeling tears welling in her eyes. She was picturing little Zayd. How would she have felt if she¡¯d ever hurt him like that?

    ¡°For years, I hated myself, and wished again and again I could turn back time. Cosmic joke that I learn now it is possible.¡± She paused again, gaze still fixed on the horizon. ¡°It would be a long time before I learned more of the language, but the first words I learned in Friian were ¡®thank you.¡¯ It is strange to think back, because had the accident never happened, I likely never would have come to Baracuel. It is a regret like no other, and yet, it set me on this path.¡± She paused, then said, ¡°That should be enough. I also understand this: you cannot save every person every time. It all must serve the greater project. I hope that when this is over, what emerges is a better world.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll try. I promise.¡± Mirian shook her head sadly. ¡°No one deserves what¡¯s coming next.¡±

    They walked in silence after that, down to the basement where Mirian examined the defenses they¡¯d set up. Several professors had looked up the old maps of the underground that had been locked away and found several more passages Mirian hadn¡¯t known about, and suspected the spies might not know about them either. They¡¯d found the passage by the market forum. Detect iron spells had even located another route no one had recorded that went from the basement up to the fourth floor. Plenty more had been walled off, or the mechanisms deliberately broken so no one could use them.

    After that, they made their way along the rim of Torrviol, past hastily erected barricades as soldiers prepared firing positions and pre-sighted their artillery. As a last ditch effort to get them out of the battle, Lake Torrviol¡¯s fishing boats were ferrying non-combatants across the lake, because the next train would be reserved for withdrawing as many soldiers as it could, should they need to retreat. Across the lake, they might get attacked by myrvites, but the odds of that were acceptable given the alternative of staying for the battle.

    They finished their route back before Bainrose Castle, making their way from the south up to the plaza, where Professor Torres had finished setting up her special artillery piece.

    Jei looked out across Torrviol, taking it all in one last time. The way the glyph lamps gave the cold streets a sense of warmth. The hushed silence of anticipation, as the town braced itself. The way the wind whipped the rooftop banners. The way the last light of dusk gleamed between the buildings and set fire to the western clouds.

    ¡°Remember,¡± was all she said, and clasped hands with Mirian.

    They locked eyes. ¡°I will,¡± she promised.

 Chapter 62 - The Battle for Torrviol

    At noon on the last day of Solem, the Baracueli scouts reported the advance of the Akana Praediar army through the old growth forest to the northwest. General Hanaran had gone back and forth about the best tactics for delaying the army, but in the end, decided an ambush was best. With bog lions and other nasty myrvites roaming the woods, sending regiments out to skirmish and retreat was too risky. The Akanan army was also better mechanized, whereas the Baracuel force had few wagons. A harassing force might be easily encircled, and Hanaran knew they could ill afford to lose anyone. Torrviol settled down to wait.

    As evening approached, it was as if the whole town held its breath. Even the birds seemed like they¡¯d been intimidated into silence.

    Mirian found herself atop Bainrose castle, on the southwest tower. Lily, not knowing what else to do, had joined her, and was pacing about the tower.

    Valen had joined one of the militia squads, even after Mirian told her it was a stupid idea. They¡¯d argued, but Valen had insisted on being in the midst of the fighting and told her it didn¡¯t matter in the end anyways, to which Mirian had to grudgingly admit she was right. Still, she was feeling annoyed about the whole thing, and a bit of regret. Didn¡¯t she want to stick together at the end, like Selesia had? As it turned out, the answer was no.

    Respected Jei was helping Professor Torres calculate range tables for her special artillery gun. From their vantage, Mirian could just make the two out down by the plaza. Mirian looked at the position of the sun, and felt something was wrong. Her gaze shifted to the belltower clock.

    She frowned, and looked to the militia member at her side. ¡°Tell General Hanaran the Akanans have new information. Either they did reconnaissance, or spotted the scouts, or got information some other way, because they¡¯re not proceeding on their normal timetable.¡±

    The militia member started down the stairs. Hanaran would be in the center of Bainrose, orchestrating the defense. Mirian hadn¡¯t realized just how involved a battle was. The Akanans had made it look effortless when they moved through Torrviol, but then again, they¡¯d done months of preparation and faced no real resistance. Now she saw the ridiculous amount of coordination it all took. The battle lines were stretched out over several miles, from the south hills around Torrviol and all the way to the lake, though the largest concentration of force was at Bainrose and the arc around it.

    Torrviol was tensed like a muscle, ready to move. On the parapets, spotters were peering through lenses or busy controlling magical eye spells to reveal enemy positions. Operators stood by, listening in on magical cables. Artillery teams were standing by at the ready, ammunition piled by their guns. Spell engine wagons stood idle, ready to ferry about reinforcements.

    In the distance, she heard the first sounds of gunfire. A few minutes passed, then she heard one of the nearby battle magi using a magical eye say, ¡°Contact, grid fifteen. They¡¯re out of cover, at least a dozen moving.¡± A nearby operator relayed the message.

    There was a delay of a minute, then two, then one of the guns down on the ground roared out. Another moment passed, and then Mirian saw the bloom of fire in the forest.

    A few hundred feet away, another gun, this one pointing west, opened fire. Then another. Then another, the distant thundering coming from maybe a mile off. Soon enough, Mirian lost track of which spotters were providing information for which guns.

    It took some time for the Akanan guns to respond. She heard them, at first thinking they were one of the Baracueli guns off in the distance, then the shells hit. Lightning erupted in the plaza, but it stayed contained to a small area as the battle magi nullified the triggered spell. Across the battlements, Mirian saw shields go up. Magical eye spotters retreated into the towers, since they didn¡¯t need strict line of sight to move their spells about.

    ¡°We should go down,¡± one of the militia members said to Mirian.

    ¡°No. I need to watch,¡± she replied. ¡°You can if you¡¯d like.¡±

    Nearby, one of the observers said, ¡°They¡¯re setting up beyond our pre-sights. I don¡¯t think we have anything in range of grids three or four.¡± A pause, as the observer listened in to a message. ¡°Well, worth a try. I see three guns being set up. Big ones.¡±

    The next shot that came was from the plaza¡ªfrom Torres¡¯s gun. Getting shot at in the basement at point blank range hadn¡¯t been so loud as that gun going off two hundred feet away. Red lightning crackled along the barrel as the excess magic discharged off it. Whatever Torres had cooked up, it had incredible power. I need some earplugs next time, she thought. Of all the spells she had scribed down, sound-dampening wasn¡¯t one of them.

    ¡°Hit! Hit!¡± cried the observer.

    After that, there was too much going on for Mirian to pick out individual events. Every observer and operator was talking at once. Artillery boomed from town, from the forest, and everywhere shells fell. Fires broke out in the woods, only to be put out by enemy arcanists, while in town buildings crumbled apart as shells erupted within them. The initial volleys weren¡¯t so bad though; with sorcerers and spell engines both putting up defensive shields, the shells¡¯ damage was limited. The counter-battery fire, as Hanaran had called it, was also doing its job. Enemy guns were either silenced by destruction or being forced to reposition.

    Between the low clouds and the forest, Mirian spotted two colossal shapes moving in the distance. ¡°There!¡± she said, running over to get the attention of one of the observers.

    His eyes went wide. ¡°Those can¡¯t be airships. They¡¯re too big to be airships!¡±

    The conversation moved along the ramparts. Mirian couldn¡¯t hear it, but she could see the soldiers gesturing and pointing at those incoming behemoths.

    A few minutes later, General Hanaran emerged from the stairs to see for herself. She gaped at the spectacle, then looked at Mirian. ¡°How?¡± the general asked.

    ¡°Last time I tried to ask, Marshal Cearsia threw me overboard,¡± she replied.

    ¡°Gods¡¯ blood. Alright, airburst shells might make them hesitate, but we need to get through that armor. Arm guns seven through fourteen with magnetic ripper shells¡­¡± Hanaran retreated back down into the castle, barking orders as she went. Across the rooftops of the castle and the town, soldiers ran about, unloading and reloading guns, with cranes moving new boxes of ammunition up.

    Mirian opened up her spellbook and turned to the remote whisper spell. Casting it, she said, ¡°Torres, can your cannon hit those airships?¡±

    There was a pause, with more guns thundering. Then Mirian heard the reply in her ear: ¡°Probably not, but it might give them a scare.¡±

    Tension on the battlements grew as the airships approached. Mirian watched as the portholes in the hull opened and the guns bristled out.

    Across Torrviol, the gun crews were scrambling to come up with firing solutions. Mirian ran over to one of the nearby guns to help out. It was, after all, just math. She argued briefly about the angle needed with one of the crew. The soldier relented, cranking the wheel that controlled the gun elevation up a few notches.

    ¡°Fire!¡± cried the corporal.

    Guns lit up all over town. The sky flashed with airburst spells as lightning crackled out and flames like flowers blossomed in the air. Most of the shells burst too far away to do much damage to the airships, but some exploded above the decks, which must have sent the crews atop them scrambling for cover. A few well-placed shots impacted the armored hulls, though most of the power was absorbed by magical shielding, which Mirian watched crackle across the airship bottoms. The shot from Torres¡¯s gun in the plaza went wide, streaking past one of the wings like a little angry meteor.

    The volley did its job, though. Both airships veered aside, turning so their broadside was facing Torrviol, but far further out than they usually did. When the airship guns replied, and a shot slammed into one of the nearby towers of Bainrose, sending stone crumbling, even as a spell engine shield flashed.

    ¡°Gods!¡± Lily cried out. ¡°I can¡¯t take this, Mirian, I¡¯m going below. Stay safe, please?¡±

    It was a ridiculous thing to ask, and just as ridiculous to promise, but Mirian did.

    Over the next few hours as night fell, the battle became even more confused. Firefights between infantry erupted across the defensive line, with fireballs and lightning bolts arching through the night. The artillery duels continued, while the two airships above circled like vultures. They¡¯d climbed in elevation and were keeping their distance, but were still peppering the town with plunging fire that even the spell engine shields were struggling to stop.

    Then, another shot landed near Bainrose, but instead of exploding into lightning or fire, the shell seemed to disappear into the earth.

    Then the earth shook, sending Mirian staggering.

    ¡°Damn! They¡¯ve swapped to earth-shaker shells,¡± one of the soldiers cried out.

    That can¡¯t be good, Mirian thought.

    Another shot hit the northern wall, and when the shell exploded, it sent fissures through the stone, sending a piece of the battlement sliding off the wall in a slide of jagged rock.

    ¡°Evacuate the walls!¡± one of the captains shouted.

    The southwest tower practically exploded, rock cascading down as the artillery piece atop it tumbled down, crew included. There was a reason castles had fallen out of favor.

    Mirian headed down the ladder, then down the spiral staircase. Stopping at the second floor, she went to the balcony and looked down. One of the priests was healing a man with a bleeding leg, while the other sat meditative, perhaps trying to recover his power. Another point for Xipuatl, Mirian thought. If the power was purely divine, one wouldn¡¯t need to recover like an exhausted arcanist. She wondered if there was a soul-equivalent to a mana potion.

    More injured were sat along the walls on cots, some in agony, some asleep. In the middle of the room, General Hanaran loomed over the battlemap as her staff moved pieces about, adjusting them back as another earthquake jostled everyone. People circled her like a locust cloud, relaying orders or bringing in the newest reports.

    ¡°Get me inertial wards around the keep!¡± one of the staff snapped.

    ¡°Can we set off the spellbombs?¡± another was saying.

    ¡°Not yet,¡± a woman by the operators shouted. ¡°They¡¯re still not moving to the edge of the woods. Right now it would hit a few infantry at most.¡±

    Mirian took note of the positions on the map as best she could. A pity; she¡¯d thought the spellbombs were a great idea.

    ¡°They¡¯re hitting the northern positions hard,¡± another said, while Mirian heard another man say, ¡°Hold the southern guns until they¡¯re out from behind those hills. We can¡¯t waste ammunition on suppression.¡±

    She made her way down to the basement next, where Professor Cassius sat on one of the study chairs, eyes hollow and face gaunt. She didn¡¯t need to measure his aura to know he was nearing total depletion of his mana. If he continued, he might start getting soul abrasion, and that would take far longer than a few days to recover from. Not that it mattered much.

    Here the bookshelves also had been scattered to the walls. Mirian could hear spells and gunfire echoing down the open catacomb passages, while soldiers milled about or rested.

    ¡°How¡¯s the defense?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°Not good,¡± Cassius rasped. ¡°They¡¯ve been pushing harder here than anywhere. They have perfect knowledge of the areas here. Akanan earth specialists broke down several walls to flank our defensive positions. We¡¯ve retreated to the fourth defensive line. After that, the last line we can hold is here.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Can Hanaran send more troops?¡±

    ¡°The line is stretched thin as it is. We simply don¡¯t have enough people or firepower. The other infantry are fighting war wagons with small arms and a handful of arcanists. Drawing down their numbers risks a breakthrough.¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t know what a breakthrough entailed, but it sounded bad.

    Another earthquake shook Bainrose. Plaster dust scattered into the air, and more books fell off their shelves. More gunfire echoed through the catacombs.

    ¡°Can you collapse the catacombs?¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t have the spell power. It¡¯s too stable. There¡¯s too much solid rock to move.¡±

    The idea had been to hold Bainrose as the center of the defense, but the castle was the primary objective of the Akanans. What if we retreated, and let them have the castle? No one knows how the Divine Monument down there works, anyways. They can¡¯t do much with it in four days.

    Mirian moved back to the central hall. It still looked strange with all the shelves out of place. She found Lily crouched down in a corner. ¡°Hey,¡± she said. ¡°You doing okay?¡±

    Lily shook her head. ¡°I know there will be another me that wakes up after this, but¡­ but this is me. And I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t want to die.¡±

    Mirian hugged her, but that was all she could do. There were no words that could comfort her, and even the sweetest lie felt too bitter to tell.

    Respected Jei found her next, spotting her from across the room. ¡°You have taken note of the new positions? And how long it took them to shift ammunition?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. It¡¯s just¡­ it¡¯s a lot to remember. Gods I wish there were memory spells, or I could take just one notebook back with me.¡± She kept her arm around Lily.

    Jei nodded. ¡°The mind is still the frontier of magic. Too complicated. I spent many years researching it.¡±

    She had, Mirian realized. Of course she¡¯d tried to find a way to understand the mind. She¡¯d wanted to fix her sister.

    ¡°You must become good at memory tricks. Repetition. Songs can help with that.¡±

    ¡°You can help?¡± Mirian said, puzzled.

    Song Jei rolled her eyes. ¡°Not me. Music!¡±

    Mirian laughed. ¡°Right. Right, sorry.¡±

    ¡°Viridian taught you many tricks too. Conceptual schema, for when you need understanding and not details. The better connected the information is, the easier it is to retrieve. Getting good sleep helps. Needing to explain or teach something forces you to learn it better. Viridian can explain it all better than I can. You know about the house with rooms trick for sorting memories?¡±

    ¡°Oh Gods, not that,¡± Mirian said, rolling her eyes. ¡°Yeah, I guess I need to try that. Whenever I think about a house, though, I always come up with the tiny apartment my family lives in, and then it feels like there¡¯s not enough room for everything. If I try to imagine a bigger house, I spend all my time thinking about what should be in the rooms and then it¡¯s just me imagining how I¡¯d decorate it.¡±

    Jei sighed. ¡°Discipline, Mirian. You need discipline.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡±

    A smile cracked through the sadness on Lily¡¯s face. ¡°What¡¯s your bedroom look like?¡±

    ¡°Gods, I don¡¯t know, I never got that far in my imagination. I¡¯d just be glad not to have to share a room with Zayd. I love him, but when he wakes up in the middle of the night he goes straight to me and pokes me until I¡¯m awake. And he babbles in his sleep! Total nonsense, but it would wake me up all the time.¡±

    Bainrose shook again.

    ¡°I gotta go talk to Hanaran. We might need to evacuate the castle,¡± she said, giving Lily one last squeeze before she stood.

    General Hanaran, however, would not discuss it. ¡°Someone else explain it,¡± she snapped. ¡°I¡¯m busy running a war!¡±

    One of her general staff pulled Mirian aside. ¡°All our communication lines meet up here. It¡¯s the central strongpoint of the line. It¡¯s also protecting our supply routes, and it overlooks all the nearby positions we hold. I really can¡¯t overstate how important it is we don¡¯t retreat from Bainrose.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s also their primary objective,¡± Mirian said. ¡°You might not have a choice if they break through in the basement.¡±

    The staff member gave her a fake smile. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to advise the general that.¡±

    The ground shook again, but this time it kept shaking. There was a tremendous roar, and then Mirian could feel the pulse of intense magic as it brushed by her aura. ¡°Torrian Tower,¡± she whispered.

    Another tremor shook the castle. The noise eclipsed even the guns. Officers exchanged glances of fear. An operator called out, ¡°Torrian Tower has been bisected. Two of the western streets, two southern streets, and half the plaza is blocked off. Numerous casualties.¡±

    The acolytes rushed to prepare more spaces for the injured, but even the vast keep was running out of room. Mirian wasn¡¯t exactly an expert on battles, but it was clear that too much of the defense hinged on Bainrose. They couldn¡¯t afford to lose it, but they couldn¡¯t afford to hold it, and once they did, everything would collapse.

    She turned to Jei. ¡°They always destroy the tower. Now I know it¡¯s not just by chance. What¡¯s there? Did the spies ever break into it? What is it the wizards are working on in there?¡±

    Jei frowned. ¡°Security is easy. One entrance, very hard to break into. The pretender¡ªthe one who we thought was Praetorian Adria¡ªwould have gone inside. No one else. Lots of research in the tower. I do not know what scares them.¡±

    Damn. ¡°Would Torres know? Cassius?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Endresen then. Shit, is Professor Endresen still around? I need to talk to her.¡±

    Jei glanced up, thinking. ¡°I might know where. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Mirian gestured for Lily to follow them. As she left, she heard the operators trying to figure out where the massive shot that had taken down the tower had come from. Wherever the gun was, it was far enough away that the battle magi were having trouble tracking it down. It seemed the Akanans were now using sound-suppression spells to help keep their artillery hidden.

    As they passed through the plaza, Lily gaped at the horror of it. Torrian Tower had indeed fallen, the dark stone spire crumpled across the buildings. Magical energy still crackled from its interior. Everywhere, the town was pocked with smoldering craters. Dust and smoke hung in the air, with the arcanists being too taxed and busy to deal with it.

    The thundering of guns, muted inside the castle, was constant outside. Spell-infused shells streaked across the sky. They ran in short bursts from shelter to shelter, and Mirian was glad they did. While under one of the spell-engine shields, a shell exploded directly above them, sending out pulses of vibrations that shook the ground beneath them and sent them all sprawling to the ground. Without the shield, they¡¯d certainly have been turned into paste.

    Lily¡¯s glasses had gone flying. Mirian picked them up and handed them to her, then pulled her to her feet. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she said, though her ears were ringing and she couldn¡¯t hear her own words.

    They made it to a barricaded intersection, where a squad of Baracueli soldiers waved them through. North, Mirian could see a firefight, with rifle infantry crouched behind a barricade shooting at someone. The sorcerers near them sent out volleys of force blades, fireballs, and ripples that could only be magnetic spells, while still others worked to maintain shields that were warding against the same. Flashes of light and arcane energy lit up Torrviol like a summer storm.

    They found Professor Endresen by the market forum, where a large spell engine rumbled, casting a high shield above the tents. It all looked like chaos to Mirian; everywhere, people were running about, pushing about boxes of ammunition or fossilized myrvite in carts, or carrying wounded to a set of tents where several more priests worked on healing the worst injured. In other places, groups of soldiers sat and rested, having already fought for hours. From over by the outdoor theater, there was gunfire. Soldiers still holding one of the underground passages, Mirian knew.

    She glanced above at the Divir moon. It was well past midnight, nearly dawn, so it was the 1st of Duala now. Only a few days left.

    Endresen wasn¡¯t doing anything with her magic. When they found her, she was carrying a box of bandages in her arms.

    ¡°I need to know why the Akanans would find Torrian Tower dangerous,¡± Mirian said to her.

    Endresen stared at her, then saw Jei. ¡°Ah, you must be Mirian. Our very own resident time traveler. Now there¡¯s a physics mystery I wish I had time to solve.¡± She dropped the bandages near one of the physicians and wiped her brow.

    ¡°Sorry, right, we haven¡¯t met yet. I took your 480 class a few times. Well, the start of it. But you do research in Torrian Tower. Why are they afraid of it?¡±

    Endresen nodded while pursing her lips, thinking about the question. ¡°I haven¡¯t the slightest idea,¡± she finally said. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to isolate theorized arcane particles. No luck so far on that. My colleagues¡­? Lots of things. Novel alchemistry applications. Trying to create myrvite synthetics. Other arcane research¡ªwell, some don¡¯t believe in an arcane particle, they¡¯re positing some sort of particle-less field theory which sounds like nonsense to me. The tower¡¯s mostly full of a lot of very fine-tuned detectors good at sensing very small things. I certainly can¡¯t think of anything they¡¯re doing with military applications.¡±

    Mirian cast her gaze upward. ¡°This is going to take so long,¡± she told no one in particular.

    Endresen shrugged.

    They helped carry more supplies, as more casualties came in. When the Kiroscent Dome was hit, they mounted a search-and-rescue effort to try and save the citizens and students who had been sheltering there. They had to abandon the effort though, as the airships were growing more daring, and a Baracueli sergeant shouted the rescue party away as observers sighted the airships coming in for another pass. They made their way back to the forum.

    Around dawn, there was blessed relief from the attack as the Akanans relented. Skirmishing continued throughout the morning, but the battle had lost a great deal of its intensity.

    ¡°They¡¯ve outrun their logistics,¡± one of Hanaran¡¯s general staff told Mirian triumphantly. When Mirian gave her a befuddled look, she said, ¡°No army moves as fast as the Akanans did forever. To make it that many miles from the coast in only a few days meant doing it without enough supply wagons. They had to carry in all that ammunition they just used, and they¡¯ve probably used most of it. Which is good. We¡¯re damn near out of shells and bullets ourselves. No doubt, supply caravans are bringing them more, but until then, we won¡¯t be pressed so hard.¡± She looked at one of the maps longingly. ¡°I just wish we had the numbers to circle around and cut them off. Well, and some way to take down those damned airships. I still can¡¯t figure out how they even stay up in the sky!¡±

    Mirian thanked her, and headed for the tent camp with the others. The dorms had all been basically leveled in the fighting, and the buildings in Torrviol were either being occupied by soldiers or were severely damaged and unsafe to stay in, so hundreds of tents had been set up by the lake shore by the fish market. Even with the amount of arcanists Torrviol had, few people had the kind of mana left to routinely cast heating spells, so a few thin blankets were all she had to ward away the morning chill. She slept poorly, waking when a stray shell landed nearby or to raised voices as people argued.

    Some shift in noise levels startled her awake. When she left from the tent, blinking at the bright day, she saw soldiers and artillery moving in their direction. She realized they were hastily trying to erect another defensive line.

    ¡°Castle Bainrose has fallen,¡± a woman with a militia band tied around her arm told her when she asked.

    ¡°Where¡¯s General Hanaran?¡±

    ¡°No one knows. Rumor is she died in the fighting. The Akanans used some sort of new magical weapon that brought down the east wall. It was like a geyser of energy. We¡¯re all just praying they only could use it once.¡±

    Mirian felt her heart race, and the grogginess of sleep fell off. That wasn¡¯t the Akanans, she knew. In the distance, she could just make out the bulk of Bainrose through the dust and smoke, but the low elevation of the area and the other tall buildings were blocking too much. She needed a better view.

    She made her way to the Artificer¡¯s Tower, ignoring several soldiers who told her it wasn¡¯t safe.

    Only one of the skybridges between buildings was still intact. Mirian crossed to the center. The Kiroscent Dome was no longer blocking her view; it had been demolished completely. A massive crater had opened up near Bainrose. She could still see residual energy crackling through it, a mix of violet and orange, the colors so intense they seemed more like afterimages than anything real.

    A gunshot sounded out and pinged the bridge. Mirian ducked back into the building. The eruptions happen here, she realized. She just had to survive long enough to see them.

    Mirian made her way back down the lake to find Endresen, thinking a physicist must know something about the eruptions, or at the very least, how to study them. She¡¯d just found Lily to help her look when a collective gasp from the crowds of people made her turn.

    A bright light was growing over by the plaza in front of the castle. There was a tremendous sound, like arcing electricity. She¡¯d only heard it once before: when she¡¯d seen the leyline erupt. Her eyes widened, and she raised her spellrod to start channeling a shield.

    The light erupted, a rainbow of colors that blinded Mirian, even as she threw an arm across her eyes. The crowd gasped and screamed, but for a moment, there was no movement. They were all blind.

    Except Lily, it seemed. Her magical glasses could compensate for the incredible brightness. ¡°What¡¯s happening, Mirian?¡± she asked, shouting to be heard over the electric roar.

    ¡°Describe it to me,¡± Mirian shouted back.

    ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ like a giant lightning bolt, but it¡¯s all the colors of the rainbow. It¡¯s gone impossible high into the sky, it¡ªah!¡±

    As Lily cried out, Mirian¡¯s shield evaporated, like it was a sheet of paper trying to stop a hurricane. Everything was quiet, she realized. The guns had stopped firing, but the spell engines were also silent. When she could see again, she looked down at her spellrod and found all the glyphs had burned away. When she reached for her aura, she realized it was gone entirely¡ªscoured away.

    People were shouting and running, but Mirian¡¯s eyes were drawn to the sky. ¡°Look!¡± she called out. The two airships, glinting in the sunlight high above, were smoldering with magical fire. They hung in the sky a moment longer, then started plummeting to the earth.

    She wondered what had happened. Had the Akanans seized the Divine Monument and activated it, not realizing what it would do? Or was something else responsible for the magical eruption here? If the strange monument was a weapon, did the Akanans have one? Was that why the eruptions started as Akana Praediar started its war? And how did any of that connect to the second moon?

    She still had so much to learn. Still, it was with some satisfaction she watched the airships smash into the ground, erupting in colossal columns of magical and mundane flame. The earth trembled with their impact. Then, it trembled again, and this time, the shaking didn¡¯t stop.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you again soon,¡± Mirian told Lily, and gave her a hug. Cracks formed in the ground, bleeding brilliant energy.

    Then the world erupted beneath their feet.

 Chapter 63 - Dealing with Spies

    When she awoke, Mirian lay in bed, letting the water drip down from the ceiling. It was nice and peaceful. Annoying, yes, but no one was dying, nothing was exploding, and she was anonymous again. Just some girl that no one would look at.

    Eventually, she sighed and got up, and went about her morning routine. As she did, she checked her auric mana. Despite it being stripped by the magical cataclysm at the end of the cycle, it was all there. That was interesting.

    For all the death she¡¯d seen, Mirian still didn¡¯t like the idea of killing people. Even though logically she knew the death was temporary, it still felt wrong in this visceral, sickening way. As she approached the alley by the Alchemistry building, that discomfort wormed its way through her body. Is this what I have to do at the start of the cycle now? Every time?

    It was one thing to read in the newspaper about a criminal being lynched for their crimes. Usually, they¡¯d done plenty to deserve it. These Akanan spies certainly were going to do a bunch of really terrible stuff. But technically, they hadn¡¯t done it yet. Is there some other path? A better one? How long would it take me to find it? The first time, she¡¯d done it in anger, by accident. If she did it again, it would be cold blooded murder.

    But it¡¯d opened so many doors. She¡¯d made more progress than any other cycle prior. It had given her access to the Divine Monument, and she was sure now it was connected to the eruption of the leylines. I have to find out more.

    Mirian swallowed, feeling bile building up in her. Then she readied her lift object spell.

    This time when she pulled him from the roof, she added a whole month of raw magic training to her spell intensity. Again, the spy fell wordlessly from the roof. Again, the noise he made as his body hit the pavement made Mirian want to throw up.

    As before, a crowd gathered.

    She played her part the same as she had: the hapless student, in the wrong place at the wrong time. The distress was genuine enough, just for a reason the crowd didn¡¯t know about yet.

    She wallowed in self-hatred for a while in Myrvite Ecology, then closed her eyes to breathe and meditate. There was no sense clinging to her guilt. This was the best path forward. She told herself the Akanan man had made his choices.

    After Viridian¡¯s class, Mirian played her next part: the hapless student in the right place at the right time. Valen stared at her as the second spy was led away in cuffs again, and this time, Mirian winked at her before she headed off. That ought to mess with her.

    ***

    Her first big change came at the end of Arcane Mathematics. Last time, she¡¯d saved Jei by a series of last-second successes. Changing her rescue was risky, but there was a greater risk that she might fail. If she was too close to Jei and got found out, if she was too far and missed her chance, if her thrown wood block missed, if she arrived a few seconds later and the third spy had finished his work¡ªthere were too many ways it could go wrong.

    ¡°You have more questions?¡± Jei asked as Mirian approached her after class.

    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Mirian said. She checked again to make sure the other students were all the way out the door, then started telling her about the time loops. ¡°Of all the people, you understood the implications better than anyone. You took me on as an apprentice during the second semester. You told me about Bao.¡±

    Jei¡¯s eyes grew wide.

    ¡°Do you have to go to the Divine Monument today? I saw that too. We can talk as we walk. I know the route from under Griffin Hall now so I can show you where the Akanan spy tries to ambush and kill you in a few days. That attack succeeds, by the way, unless an intervention takes place.¡±

    That shook Jei. She kept a stoic face, but Mirian had gotten better at reading her emotions. Of course, being terrified about your own death and deepest secrets¡ªthat seemed a good reason to feel fear.

    Mirian went over and hit the hidden brick switch. Jei hesitated, then went with her. By the time they made it to the storage area that led to the Divine Monument, the professor was pale and clearly feeling unwell. ¡°I don¡¯t know where he hides,¡± Mirian said, ¡°but he loves his stupid lightning wand. Have a grounding ward he can¡¯t detect, and I doubt the ambush works. I know for sure you¡¯re the better arcanist.¡± She looked at Jei. ¡°I made a promise to you last cycle. I plan to keep it. I¡¯ll give you some time to think. We have until Firstday to act.¡±

    Her professor nodded. ¡°Not what I was expecting,¡± she said.

    Mirian laughed. ¡°Still don¡¯t know why it was me and not someone else. Maybe there¡¯s a reason. Maybe it¡¯s just chance. See you tomorrow.¡±

    There was the off-chance that what she was telling Jei now would change enough of her actions to screw things up, but¡ªwell, that was going to be her future, wasn¡¯t it? Trying anything and everything, until something worked.

    ***

    After Fifthday¡¯s class, Mirian demonstrated two dozen of the forty raw magic exercises Jei had shown her, then explained the crystal-growing magic Jei had taught her last cycle.

    When she was done, and Jei still was silent, she said, ¡°Talk to Torres if you want. She¡¯ll help run through alternative hypotheses with you. Firstday, though, you¡¯ll get a note demanding an emergency meeting at the Divine Monument. You¡¯ll be busy with exams, so you won¡¯t have time to look into it. Here you go, by the way.¡± Mirian handed her all the answers to the first half of the exam. ¡°If I ever solve the second half, I¡¯ll let you know.¡±

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Jei looked over the math. ¡°You must know what I will say about probabilities,¡± she finally said.

    ¡°Yeah. Each individual event is explicable, but you have to look at the sum of the probabilities. You¡¯re the one who understands it better than anyone. Eventually, the rest of the town comes around on it. Mostly.¡±

    It was clear Jei needed more processing time, so Mirian waved her goodbye, then went off to go work with Ingrid. The kind of work she¡¯d seen her and Torres doing had been incredible. She spent the afternoon working on different surface-preparation techniques, then on the way Torres had been coaching her to manage mana conduits. There was a neat trick where the mana bleedoff from a high intensity spell could be used to cast a lower intensity spell.

    Over the weekend, Mirian applied that design philosophy to something she¡¯d been thinking about. It was half-way between a spellrod and a wand. It had far less combined spells, but when she cast the primary spell, it triggered a secondary spell. This meant she could cast minor lightning and get a force shield, and cast force blades while getting a ground lightning spell. The artifice to do this was complicated, and it was only through growing her own fine-spun quartz conduits using Jei¡¯s techniques that she could make it.

    Theoretically, it was the perfect weapon against the Akanan agents who liked lightning wands and swords. In practice, her prototype was flawed, and she didn¡¯t quite have the kind of spell power to get the functionality she wanted. The result was a scepter that could dish out a fairly decent attack spell, but the resulting defensive shield was only partial. In fairness, Torres had applied it to an artillery piece, which had plenty of energy to bleed off. By the time she finished, though, it was Seventhday afternoon, and there wasn¡¯t time to redo it.

    She caught a glance of Torres talking with Ingrid. Mirian gave them both a little wave, but it was clear they didn¡¯t want to talk with her yet. Hope I didn¡¯t screw it up, she thought.

    ***

    Firstday, Mirian skipped the Arcane Mathematics exam to finish scribing a few more spells, then joined Jei at the end of class. ¡°Have you decided yet?¡± she asked.

    ¡°It seems you should accompany me,¡± Jei said. Opening her coat, she revealed a thin brass plate that was strapped around her torso. Mirian recognized the inscribed glyph sequence immediately.

    ¡°Lightning protection. Perfect. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    When they got to the last secret door, Mirian drew her spellrod and got quiet. She nodded at Jei. Her professor nodded back.

    Song Jei opened the door and strode forward.

    Mirian had to give credit to the third spy; he was well hidden. She knew he was lurking in the room, but had no idea where, so when he burst out from behind the crates with a powerful lightning spell, it still startled her. When Jei turned around, orb already in the air, clearly not suffering from electrocution, Mirian appreciated the mild shock on his face, and then the noise he made when a battering ram of force smashed him back into the crates.

    For all her preparation, Mirian hadn¡¯t had to do much. She and Jei stood over him, with Jei wrapping force shackles around his wrists.

    ¡°Who are the others? Not Captain Mandez, or Praetorian Gavell, I already know about both of them,¡± Mirian said in Eskanar.

    The man¡¯s eyes darted back and forth. That had clearly just unnerved him, but he only spat a curse at Mirian.

    ¡°That¡¯s a new one, I should write it down. Why does Akana Praediar betray Baracuel? What do you think the Monument down there does?¡±

    The spy was silent.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about ways to make you talk,¡± Mirian said, switching to Friian because her vocabulary still needed work. ¡°At first I was thinking torture, but a girl I met told me that preparing spies for torture is basic stuff, and torture sounds awful for everyone involved. Not my style. So I thought about this: self-interest. You believe in God and country, right? Do you know what happens to Akana Praediar in the end? It¡¯s destroyed, utterly. When Marshal Cearsia¡¯s army seizes the Monument, they trigger something big, and they all blow up. A leyline smashes it apart. After that, things fall apart.¡± Half of what Mirian was saying was speculation and the other half misleading, but the agent didn¡¯t need to know that.

    ¡°So you see,¡± she continued, ¡°We¡¯re not actually on opposing sides. You work with me, and we can save both countries. Also, you¡¯ll need my protection.¡±

    The Akanan agent stared at her, baffled now. ¡°You are absolutely crazy,¡± he said.

    ¡°Gods, I wish I was. You know what happens if you go to prison, right? The agents of the second Akanan cell poison you. Hell of a way to treat a patriot, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    The man blinked, but said nothing.

    ¡°Well, you have some time to think about it. You know, when you assholes captured me, you made sure I didn¡¯t get food, water, or blankets. And you killed a lot of people. All that evil, and in service of what? It all ends in ruin for everyone. Respected Jei, let¡¯s go.¡±

    At first, the man refused to walk, but then when Jei showed no compunction about dragging him across the stone floor, he relented and walked in front of them willingly.

    Mirian stood by the fireplace this time, thinking about how much easier it was to think without a gash in her leg. They sat the man in one of the chairs, then she watched over him while Jei went to retrieve the others. Mirian kept her spellrod in one hand and the spy¡¯s sword in her other. It was a bit heavier and shorter than she was used to, but not unfamiliar.

    The agent waited a few moments before he made his move. He stood, though the force shackles still bound his arm, that spell would be wearing off soon. ¡°You should let me go. It¡¯ll be easier on you,¡± he said.

    Mirian raised the sword to his throat in one swift motion. When she tapped the blade on his chin, he flinched back. ¡°Have a seat,¡± she said. When he didn¡¯t, she said, ¡°Ever had a sword cut you in the shin? I have.¡± She kept her eyes on him, tensed and ready for any sudden moves he made.

    Something about Mirian¡¯s gaze, or perhaps her duelist¡¯s stance, must have finally convinced him. He sat back down in the chair, testing the force shackles, scowling. It probably wasn¡¯t doing great things to his pride to have a student responsible for his demise¡ªor his compatriots.

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand what you¡¯re getting yourself into,¡± he said in Friian. His accent was noticeable, but not terrible.

    ¡°Explain it to me, then,¡± Mirian said with a smile.

    That made his scowl deepen. ¡°How did you know I¡¯d be down there?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll trade a question for a question,¡± she said. ¡°You first, because,¡± and Mirian tapped the flat of the sword on the armrest. ¡°So what¡¯s your name?¡±

    ¡°Idras,¡± he said with a sigh.

    ¡°Time travel,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°I gave you a real answer,¡± he said.

    ¡°So did I. What does Akana Praediar think the Divine Monument is?¡±

    Idras was silent. Mirian shrugged, and waited.

    With Idras captured, the first difference in the timeline was done. Now Mirian needed to see what else she could change.

 Chapter 64 - Spying With Deals

    At last, Professor Seneca and Professor Torres finally arrived with Jei. Seneca looked at Mirian standing over Agent Idras with the arming sword and said, ¡°So you did kill that man on purpose.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately. It changes the path the timeline takes dramatically. Respected Jei, how much did you tell them?¡±

    Jei looked at Torres, then back to Mirian. ¡°That the man tried to kill me. That I believe you. Not much.¡±

    ¡°Where did you find Seneca and Torres? So you can find them faster next time.¡±

    ¡°Seneca was in her office. Torres was¡­ I think you know.¡±

    ¡°The King of the Grill. West-most table on the patio, sitting alone. The food was extra spicy.¡±

    Jei nodded. Torres kept her face as blank as she could, but Mirian was getting to know her well enough to know she was disconcerted.

    ¡°I have a lot to tell you,¡± she said. ¡°What¡¯s different this time is he¡¯s alive.¡± She gestured at the Akanan. Mirian had decided to tell everyone but Jei that it was the Akanan invasion triggering the Divine Monument that had sent her back. She went through the rest of the information as best she could: the corruption of the Captain, the death of Adria Gavell in the catacombs, and the planned invasion. She also made sure to mention that any spies that got captured were poisoned to death, which made Idras uncomfortable.

    Throughout it all, she made sure to note specific things she shouldn¡¯t otherwise know. Things like that Torres had been hit by a sword twice, that she possessed an ancient spellrod, and the names of her contacts in the various military branches. That Seneca had dated Bertrus, and that she was working on an alchemical concoction to run one of the spell engines studying the Divine Monument. When she threw the translation of the first spy¡¯s scroll on the table, that made Idras blanch.

    As usual, there was this annoying silence around the room as everyone pondered what to say.

    Torres went with, ¡°The most logical alternative explanation is that you¡¯re a third party agent,¡± which led to Mirian tossing down another piece of paper that had that phrase already written on it.

    Jei said a bunch of things in Gulwenen to Torres, with ¡°Iliyia¡± being the only word Mirian could pick up on.

    Torres finally said, ¡°So what did you do¡­ last time?¡±

    ¡°Got Cassius, went to the catacombs, and killed a bog lion before retrieving Praetorian Gavell¡¯s corpse. However, we need to do it slightly differently, because last time Idras here was dead, and both Mayor Wolden, Gavell¡¯s impostor, and Captain Mandez escape. There¡¯s more Akanan spies in Torrviol, and they lead to us losing the Bainrose, and therefore losing the battle.¡±

    Seneca frowned. ¡°Iliyia, you believe all this?¡±

    Torres said, ¡°Song makes a convincing case. As far as I know, the only person who was working on conduit bleed-over spell resonance is¡­ me.¡± When Senca gave her a blank look, Torres said, ¡°The two-spells-at-once thingy,¡±

    Seneca went ¡°Ah!¡± It was sort of funny that Seneca had encyclopedic knowledge of alchemistry, but didn¡¯t care much for artifice, even though it was apparently her contributions that were critical to some of the projects.

    ¡°Can you demonstrate, Mirian?¡±

    ¡°Sure, get a grounding spell ready.¡±

    As the faint hints of a shield appeared around the spellrod as she channeled lightning, Torres asked, ¡°How did you get crystal conduits small enough to miniaturize it?¡±

    Mirian nodded at Jei.

    Torres seemed to accept that. Seneca said, ¡°So¡­ now what?¡±

    ¡°You have contacts within the guard. We need to get Captain Mandez arrested and figure out what he knows. We need to have a way to stop the mayor from fleeing so we can figure out what he knows.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a tall order,¡± Seneca said. ¡°The mayor and the captain of the guard? What¡¯s your evidence?¡±

    ¡°The corpse of Adria Gavell. Which we¡¯re going to go get after we get guards like Bertrus to help get the captain arrested. And we do need to clear out all the spies and corrupt officials. As far as I can tell, those will be the changes that tip the battle, because otherwise the Akanan army knows too much for the attack to be stopped.¡±

    ¡°Then why are you saying this in front of him?¡± Torres said, gesturing to Idras.

    ¡°Because as I said before¡ªAkana Praediar also loses this war. If we work together, we both benefit.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s going to work,¡± Torres said.

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°If it doesn¡¯t, I¡¯ll just try again.¡± She looked at Idras. The spy stayed silent. He was grinding his teeth, though, which had to count for something.

    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ***

    This time, when they emerged from the catacombs with the two bodies, Idras in tow, Seneca had convinced Bertrus that Captain Mandez needed to join them, and then they needed to watch him closely. That was the best she thought they could do, since she didn¡¯t have much information that might convince the guards specifically, especially this early in the loop. Captain Mandez kept his face blank when he saw the strange array of corpses and prisoners arrayed in the plaza, but that didn¡¯t surprise Mirian.

    ¡°Tell him what I told you,¡± she insisted as Idras was led away by the guards. ¡°This doesn¡¯t have to end in ruin.¡±

    ¡°Do you think it will work?¡± Jei asked, as the guards continued away and the crowd continued to grow.

    ¡°It¡¯s worth a try. We need to talk to the Magistrate next. Assuming its not too late.¡± She glanced southward. Still no smoke yet. So what was it that triggered the spies to burn the headquarters?

    Mirian had found people took you much more seriously when you said something outrageous and had the backing of three Academy professors. Before the breakthrough, going to the magistrate¡¯s office got a secretary to roll his eyes at her. Now, after requesting a meeting, the secretary said, ¡°Well, yes, I think she is in¡­ let me see if she¡¯s available.¡±

    ¡°Make sure you get the name of the skeleton we found right. Adria Gavell!¡± Mirian called after her.

    Soon enough, Magistrate Ada was walking beside them, wide-eyed, reading then re-reading the tattered note they¡¯d found by the corpse. When Ada broke through the crowd to get a look at the body and the armor it was wearing, her face went even whiter.

    ¡°I have reason to believe Captain Mandez is part of the group responsible, and has been covering up the Academy break-ins,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Perhaps your office can investigate.¡±

    Magistrate Ada looked at Mirian again, then back at the corpse. ¡°How is it you came to possess this information?¡± she asked.

    Here we go again, Mirian thought.

    ***

    By the end of the day, Mirian listened to the conversations on the street, then talked with Jei and Torres and was able to get a decent idea of what had happened after her conversation with Ada.

    Captain Mandez had tried to make a run for it like she predicted, setting a safe in his office on fire and then attempting a stealthy escape by boat. Only, the other guards were on the lookout for it, and running for it was the worst thing he could have done. Before, there had been doubts as to his status. Running eliminated them. The contents of the safe were incinerated, but the man himself was sitting in a special cell in the Magistrate¡¯s Building.

    Mayor Wolden had seen the guards standing outside his manor ¡®for his protection,¡¯ and apparently decided to stick around this time. He¡¯d made a blustery speech about rooting out corruption, only to be heckled about the state of Torrviol, with the bog lion corpse in the plaza a dramatic illustration of the point. Rumor was now spreading that he had a special stash of Florinian ingots hidden in his house. Mirian wondered if that was the case; if so, it would make him absurdly wealthy.

    It only took a little longer for the demands for a plebiscite to make their way around town. Soon enough, crowds were forming in the forum and the plaza.

    Adria Gavell¡¯s impostor was nowhere to be found.

    Again, the guards closed ranks and pointed to Captain Mandez as the source of the corruption; they¡¯d all just been following orders. Mirian still didn¡¯t believe it, but with huge crowds roaming the streets, their allegiance to self-preservation had them opposing the little conspiracy, and that was what Mirian needed most.

    The spy headquarters was also, so far, unburned.

    That evening at the dining hall, there was the agony of needing to explain everything to Lily again. This time, there was no Valen nearby. Mirian wondered what small change had caused that.

    Lily did her best. When Mirian explained it right, she was more sympathetic, but she hated having to explain herself just to get that sympathy. It was never extended automatically. There was a certain exhaustion to needing to labor so hard just to have someone to understand her, and that understanding was always incomplete.

    More, there was a dread creeping up on her, because she knew that isolation from normal life was only going to get worse. Right now, she could see it manifesting in her own levity in speaking to people. A year ago, she hadn¡¯t even liked raising her hand in most of her classes. Now, she had no problem lecturing her own professors.

    What she wanted to do was go for a nice run, but with the Impostor still at large and things not at all settled, she knew it was a bad idea. Instead, she found herself heading two dormitories over and knocking on a door she¡¯d never knocked on before.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Valen asked when she answered the door. She was already in her nightclothes, though she quickly cleared her surprise off her face.

    Mirian couldn¡¯t help but look behind her. Her room was full of clutter, the papers on the desk in such a mess Mirian had to resist the urge to burst in and start cleaning. This was contrasted with the second half of the room, which was mostly empty. The second bed in her room was made up perfectly and untouched. Her memory was hazy, but she¡¯d thought Valen had a roommate. Apparently not. ¡°I need your expertise,¡± she said.

    Valen scowled. ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t take charity cases.¡±

    Mirian ignored the casual insult. ¡°I want you to run a spy network.¡±

    The other girl opened her mouth, then closed it. ¡°What?¡± she said.

    ¡°Your dad was part of the Deeps. You know spycraft. I can only be in one place at once, and going forward, when I¡¯m around, everyone is going to be watching.¡± Mirian didn¡¯t explain beyond that. She knew Valen had already been keeping her finger on the pulse of events.

    ¡°Why would I do that?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Because you want to. I think we can work out a¡­ reward system,¡± Mirian said, and gave her a wink.

    About a hundred emotions played across Valen¡¯s face in quick succession. ¡°Since when did you¡­ well I guess it must be true. Damn, you¡¯re evil, you know that? Alright.¡±

    ¡°Good!¡± Mirian said, and then they started hammering out the details. She explained about the headquarters, how to decode the Akanan ciphers, the spies being poisoned, and the mysterious second cell. It was that second cell she wanted her to start looking into. It wouldn¡¯t be a real spy network, of course. Even with her free loan money, Mirian didn¡¯t have the kind of funds to pay salaries. But it would take advantage of the myriad of social connections Valen had. She¡¯d learn that much more this cycle.

    When she left, Mirian was feeling quite pleased with herself. As she walked back to her dorm, though, she saw the orange flicker of light on the low-hanging clouds above Torrviol. Then she smelled smoke, faintly, on the wind.

    She¡¯d been too slow to move, she realized. The spy headquarters building was burning again.

 Chapter 65 - Time Traveleréˆ¥æªš Antidote

    The day after the fire was the 6th of Solen, the day the spies would be killed. Exams were still going forward for students, so everyone except Professor Jei was busy. Despite the stir Mirian had caused, it would still be at least a few days before the illusion of ¡®normal¡¯ would be shattered for most people. She was beginning to think of it as the ¡®denial¡¯ phase.

    Mirian and Jei headed over to the town jail.

    She hadn¡¯t been there since the second cycle, and had made it a point to avoid the place. The jail was a small, squat building at the edge of town, quite ugly compared to anything surrounding it. Three lights shone from the barred windows. Two of the prisoners would be the spies; Mirian had no idea who the third was. A short hallway joined it to the Torrviol Guard¡¯s Headquarters, a much nicer building decorated with the orange and white banners of Baracuel, with statues of lions figuring prominently.

    She¡¯d seen the captain¡¯s office, the interrogation room, and the evidence storage room the last time she¡¯d stayed. While the Magistrate¡¯s Office on the other side of the block had its own people and rooms for dealing with evidence and investigations, its function was more for the official trials and sentences.

    As they approached the entrance, they saw a man working on replacing the front door¡¯s locks. That made sense. The entire Akanan network probably had the keys to the guardhouse by this point.

    They made their way to the public lobby of the Guard¡¯s Headquarters. The inside wasn¡¯t all that spacious, since the building was an old converted barracks, but there were several benches for people to sit on, pegs for hanging cloaks, and a desk for the attendant on duty.

    The desk attendant seemed busy with paperwork. Mirian had never quite understood what they did all day, but it seemed to involve filling in forms, stamping paper, and otherwise moving things from one pile to another.

    Mirian had no idea what one was supposed to say in situations like these, so she said, ¡°Hi, is there a procedure for visiting the prisoners to talk?¡±

    Jei, meanwhile, sat on one of the benches, pretending not to do anything at all.

    The attendant looked up at Mirian, annoyed that he had to interrupt his paperwork. ¡°You submit a formal request through the magistrate¡¯s office. The prisoner must also accept your visit. Magistrate Ada must approve it, which she won¡¯t, because the prisoners are accused of being enemies of the crown and state. Is that all?¡±

    Mirian had expected the conversation to take more time. Jei needed a bit longer to finish what she was doing. ¡°Uh, what if I have information that the imprisoned spies might be assassinated?¡±

    ¡°Do you have that information?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    The attendant frowned. ¡°Should I expect an angry mob? I thought they were mostly angry at Mayor Wolden.¡±

    ¡°No, not them. Some other part of the spy network.¡±

    ¡°You would also report that to the magistrate¡¯s office. What did you say your name was again?¡±

    ¡°Mirian.¡±

    ¡°Oh. You¡¯re the one who¡­ listen, you need to talk to the magistrate. Or the Luminate Order, really, I feel like they¡¯re the ones who have the pedigree to handle, ah, cases like yours.¡±

    She looked back at Jei, who gave her a subtle nod. ¡°Thanks!¡± Mirian said, and went for the door. As they passed the locksmith, Roland, the guard she¡¯d met so many cycles ago, walked in. He gave Jei a dirty glare, then walked past them heading for the jail.

    As soon as they were outside, Mirian said, ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s him, I think it¡¯s just his shift. What was that about? Does he¡­ do you know him?¡±

    Jei shrugged. ¡°No. He doesn¡¯t like me.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I am Zhighuan,¡± she said simply.

    ¡°Oh.¡± Mirian wrinkled her nose. ¡°Oh.¡±

    They took a seat on a stone bench in sight of the entrance, then each cast disguise spells. Most of town was busy in the forum with the plebiscite for the new mayor, so few people were on the street. She could vaguely hear the ruckus coming from several blocks away.

    Mirian had prepared a copy of a spell Jei had taught her. It was also part of the illusion sub-school. It involved linking with a small magical device that could pick up sound waves. That would let them eavesdrop on the lobby. If anyone was going to visit the prisoners today, they should be coming from the magistrate¡¯s office, and then they¡¯d need to file the request with the attendant. Mirian and Jei could listen in every time someone went in the front door, while not causing the conditions that might lead the would-be assassin to abort their attempt. Mirian needed to catch them.

    She¡¯d decided there was no way the magistrate¡¯s office would move fast enough to save the spies from assassination, even if they did believe her. It was also possible someone from the magistrate¡¯s office was responsible. She and Jei had planned to spy on the guests entering the facility instead. At worst, the responsible spy would be someone already in the Guard¡¯s Headquarters, narrowing down the field considerably. At best, they¡¯d walk right through the front door.

    The next few hours were full of interminable waiting. Mirian hated having nothing to do. Practicing magic right there would look suspicious¡ªthey were disguised as townsfolk, not students¡ªand if they talked about Zhighua or magic, that would also be suspicious. So they just sat. The weather wasn¡¯t even nice.

    Three hours into the wait, two different couriers had delivered letters, but the interaction had sounded normal, and they¡¯d gone right out. The locksmith had finished with the front door and bid his farewell. Mirian discovered the identity of the third person in the jail when a woman stopped by with a writ from the magistrate saying she could visit. Apparently, the man was her husband, and he¡¯d gotten into a bar fight the night before over who the next mayor should be. The squabble had turned into a full-on brawl, and he¡¯d accidentally killed another man. That gave Mirian pause. She hadn¡¯t even considered knock-on effects like that from her actions.

    Another hour passed, though, and Mirian was so bored she turned her attention to anything that could be interesting. She was so busy watching a bird flutter about, trying to decide if it was a common redwing or a myrvite rubywing, that she almost missed when another man walked into the mayor¡¯s office. She¡¯d let the eavesdropping spell lapse to save mana, so hastily dug into her bag to open her spellbook and reactivate it.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°¡ªto check on the prisoners,¡± the man was saying. The voice was slightly distorted by the spell, but she thought it sounded familiar. Mirian cursed herself for her inattention; she¡¯d missed getting a good look at him before he entered.

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± the desk attendant said.

    No writ from the magistrate? Is the desk attendant another corrupt official? Mirian stood. ¡°We need to go in.¡±

    Jei stood with her.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯re back,¡± the desk attendant said as they entered. ¡°Do you have the writ?¡±

    ¡°Who did you just let in? They didn¡¯t have a writ.¡± Mirian could hear the door down the hall closing as whoever it was made their way to the jail. She glanced at the logbook on the desk. She could see the names of the other visitors¡ªthe couriers who had made deliveries, and the woman visiting her husband¡ªbut no new names.

    ¡°You know, a bit of polite formality would do you some good,¡± the attendant said, annoyance creeping into his voice.

    ¡°This is important. Who was it?¡±

    The desk attendant rolled his eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t report to you.¡±

    ¡°Aren¡¯t all visitors supposed to sign in? Why didn¡¯t they have to? I think the magistrate would be interested in that,¡± Mirian said.

    He let out an annoyed sigh. ¡°Officials of Torrviol don¡¯t need to, because that would just be annoying. You¡¯ll notice the guards don¡¯t sign in either. Imagine how ridiculous it would be if each guardsman had to sign in and out every time they left on patrol or had to run a quick errand. So go ahead; tell Magistrate Ada. I¡¯m sure she could use a laugh.¡±

    Mirian glanced at the door further into the headquarters. Every moment they were delayed might count. She looked at Respected Jei, then at the door again.

    Jei jerked her head towards the door leading past the lobby into the guard house.

    Mirian nodded. Without a word, she made for the door.

    She heard the squeal of the attendant¡¯s chair as he hurriedly stood. ¡°Hey! You¡¯re not allowed to¡ªyou¡¯re not a government official!¡±

    While Jei delayed him, Mirian went in. Torrviol was a small enough town that it didn¡¯t have a huge guard. There weren¡¯t personnel to waste on just standing around in hallways that were generally empty, guarding buildings that no one but a fool would break into. With only one real way out of town, any prospective criminals usually didn¡¯t have long careers. The only thing stopping her from walking in, then, was social convention. Sure, most rooms were locked, but the hallway was open.

    Mirian remembered the route to the jail from her stay there; it wasn¡¯t particularly complicated. She went forward, right down a hall, past two offices. One person looked up as she passed, but must have assumed she had permission, because he stayed silent.

    She heard footsteps rounding the corner from another adjoining hall, in front of her, and pressed herself up against the wall. There was a muffled commotion behind her, but she kept her eyes forward. A man rounded the corner, coming from the small kitchen that supplied the jail. Why they needed a kitchen for stale bread and nasty porridge, Mirian hadn¡¯t figured out, but whatever fare was being delivered today smelled a lot better than what she¡¯d gotten.

    Then she recognized the man. The mayor¡¯s assistant! Why is he delivering food to the prisoners?

    He hadn¡¯t bothered looking down the hall, so he hadn¡¯t seen her. Mirian hastened to follow him, because right now, the door leading to the cells was open.

    She burst into the jail area just behind him, before the door could shut. The six cells were lined up in a row. A little table nearby was covered in paperwork, the ink on some of the papers still fresh. Roland was opening up the slats to the cell doors so the food could be delivered. When he heard Mirian, he turned and reached for his pistol. ¡°What in the five hells?¡± he swore.

    ¡°This man¡¯s a spy!¡± Mirian blurted out, pointing at the mayor¡¯s assistant. ¡°The food¡¯s poison!¡±

    Roland kept his hand on his pistol. ¡°Students aren¡¯t allowed in the¡­ oh, it¡¯s you. The one who¡­.¡± He trailed off, then looked at the open slats. The prisoners could hear their conversation.

    ¡°Well, my just reward for offering to help,¡± the assistant said sardonically. He laid the three plates on the table, then turned and said, ¡°Is the paperwork done?¡±

    ¡°As requested,¡± Roland said. Then to Mirian, ¡°You really need to leave. How did you get back here anyways?¡±

    Mirian planted herself in front of the door so that the mayor¡¯s assistant couldn¡¯t leave without pushing her aside. ¡°Eat it, then.¡± she said, in Eskanar.

    The man rolled his eyes, but Mirian could see faint tension in his neck. ¡°I¡¯m not interested in your paranoid delusions, girl. And I¡¯m certainly not eating this slop. You know, Roland, there¡¯s plenty of cells here¡ª¡±

    ¡°What did she ask you to do, Timmon?¡± Roland asked. His tone had shifted from exasperated to cautious.

    ¡°What do you mean? She asked me to eat¡­.¡± The assistant trailed off, before the realization of what he¡¯d done hit him.

    Mirian looked at Roland. ¡°Did you know he was fluent in Eskanar?¡±

    Timmon looked at Mirian, then back at Roland. ¡°Are you seriously entertaining this? Out of the way, girl.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s not poison, have a bite.¡± She said it loud enough she was sure the prisoners could hear. They needed to know that for all their loyalty, their masters would rather kill them than even attempt to save them.

    ¡°Get out of my way,¡± he snapped.

    Roland was staring at Timmon now. ¡°You seem a bit nervous. You know, let¡¯s just make sure there¡¯s no problem. Have a bite of the bread.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not seriously¡­?¡±

    ¡°Humor me,¡± said Roland, this time with more authority.

    Timmon had grown quite tense by now, and his eyes were starting to dart about. The room had grown silent, only to be broken by hurried footsteps and then the door opening again behind Mirian.

    The desk attendant burst in. ¡°I am so sorry. This girl just¡ªuh. Is everyone okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Our honored assistant here was just going to have a quick snack before we got on with our day.¡±

    ¡°I am not,¡± he snapped. ¡°You insult my dignity.¡±

    ¡°You insult mine,¡± Roland spat back. ¡°Wolden never asked for these forms, did he?¡±

    There was another moment of silence as Timmon stared at Mirian, not speaking. Then, in a flash, he reached for something concealed in his belt. He only got the pistol halfway drawn. A single shot range out, the CRACK of the gun deafening in the small confines.

    It was a clean shot, right through his head. Timmon crumpled to the ground like a sack of flour. Roland lowered his smoking pistol.

    ¡°Bloody hell,¡± the desk attendant said. ¡°Wait¡ªI don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t believe this! Timmon? Oh Gods. But he¡¯s¡­ Mayor Wolden relies on him. Oh Gods, he¡¯s dead! I¡¯m going to be sick.¡±

    Mirian felt blood dripping down her face from where some of it had splattered her.

    A voice came from the third cell. ¡°Let me see him,¡± the man said. Mirian recognized it as Idras, the third spy.

    The desk attendant went back into the hall and started retching. Roland gave a grim look to the corpse, then turned to Mirian. He jerked his head at the cell.

    ¡°Let him see,¡± Mirian said.

    Roland nodded. ¡°You know what happens if you try anything,¡± he said, and unlocked the door.

    Idras stepped out. He looked quite different when not in the shadows. He was gaunt in a way his cloak had hidden, though very clearly Akanan. ¡°Damn,¡± Idras said upon seeing the corpse. Then he walked back into his cell and sat down, looking dejected.

    Roland locked the door behind him. ¡°The curse of the guard,¡± he said. ¡°And there I was, thinking I¡¯d like something to alleviate the boredom. Mirian, fetch the magistrate, if you would. She¡¯ll want to see this. Hell of a mess we have here.¡±

 Chapter 66 - Interrogation

    When the dust had settled, Magistrate Ada approached Mirian. She still looked properly regal in her red coat of office, but the sleepless nights were apparent in her eyes. ¡°The prisoner says he¡¯ll talk to you,¡± Ada said. She paused, then added, ¡°How did you know?¡±

    Mirian looked past her, to the interrogation room where Idras was sitting, body still hunched. ¡°I¡¯ve seen other possible futures. They don¡¯t end well.¡±

    Already, her knowledge seemed to be otherwise inexplicable enough that Ada merely looked at her, and had no response.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see him.¡± She was nervous with anticipation. How much would Idras tell her? And how much of it would be true? Was he truly shaken by the betrayal of his fellow spy, or was it just an act?

    ¡°We¡¯ll be just outside, if you need assistance. Torrviol will appreciate what you learn.¡±

    ¡°My second home,¡± Mirian said, smiling. She wondered what Ada felt. How much would she trust a stranger with knowledge of the future, if she were in her shoes? Mirian walked into the interrogation room. It was strange. It wasn¡¯t so long ago that she¡¯d been sitting on the other side with Captain Mandez¡¯s cruel eyes staring her down. This time, she was sitting on the other side of the table.

    ¡°Hi,¡± Mirian said, because she didn¡¯t actually know how to interrogate someone.

    Idras didn¡¯t look at her, nor at any of the decorations around the room. He just looked at an unremarkable spot on the table. Finally, he started to speak. ¡°You were right about one thing. I am a patriot. God as my witness, I have only ever served and loved Akana Praediar.¡± Mirian heard the crack in his voice as he swapped to Eskanar and said, ¡°And now here I am, in my colleague¡¯s room.¡±

    Mirian had to think about the Eskanar word for ¡®colleague¡¯ to make sure she hadn¡¯t missed a second meaning of it. ¡°So Captain Mandez wasn¡¯t just taking bribes.¡±

    Idras swapped back to Friian as he said, ¡°No. I may as well tell you his real name is Nathanial Hache. I don¡¯t know how he ever managed to pass himself off as south Baracueli.¡± Idras winced. ¡°He would have given the order for my assassination. I was at his son¡¯s wedding.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s mouth went dry. That was a kind of ruthlessness she couldn¡¯t even comprehend. She let Idras continue.

    ¡°It is not how the Republic Intelligence Division is supposed to act. Something has gone wrong. You say this all ends Akana Praediar. How?¡±

    ¡°It has to do with the Divine Monument,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Is that what you call it? I¡¯m not privy to the classified information, but I know the name. We call it the Ancient Weapon.¡±

    Mirian thought about what she¡¯d learned from Nicolus about politics. ¡°Powerful enough that Akana doesn¡¯t even trust an ally with one?¡±

    ¡°Of course we don¡¯t trust you with it. You¡¯re already using it on us.¡±

    ¡°What? That can¡¯t be right. No one on the project can figure out how it works. You must know that¡ªwith all the break-ins, you must have seen all the reports.¡±

    Idras was still staring at that spot on the table. He ground his jaw a bit, lost in thought then said, ¡°The reports didn¡¯t add up with the information we got from the break-ins. They were¡­ mixed. I assumed that one group of researchers was being deceived by an inner circle that had made a breakthrough.¡±

    Mirian thought. ¡°You know about the underground passages, but did you ever actually get into the room with the monument? Or Torrian Tower?¡±

    ¡°No, of course not. That would have been¡­¡± He trailed off. ¡°Her code name is Specter, so that¡¯s what we call her.¡±

    ¡°Adria Gavell. Or at least, her impostor.¡±

    Idras nodded. ¡°Then I was a fool. Never trust a double agent; they¡¯ve already shown they have no reservations about betrayal.¡±

    Double agent. So the Impostor is Baracueli? ¡°You don¡¯t know who the Impostor is?¡±

    ¡°Someone with pull. She outranked Adria, before her death, and Hache was ordered to take directions from her. The reports she gave us¡­ does Archmage Luspire truly not know what the device down there does?¡±

    ¡°No one does. Or at least, they sure didn¡¯t seem to. If Song Jei and High Wizard Ferrandus don¡¯t know, then who would?¡±

    Idras sighed. ¡°I suppose the signs were there. They were desperate enough to put a Zhighuan on the project. Wouldn¡¯t have been needed if it was working. Specter¡¯s played us all for fools, then.¡±

    Mirian bristled at the barb against her mentor. She¡¯d been feeling all that sympathy for the man, and then his casual prejudice came out like bile. Remember that, she chided herself. She suppressed her anger. In the end, those comments didn¡¯t matter. All of it would be erased. She continued. ¡°Has Akana Praediar uncovered their own ¡®Ancient Weapon¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Something like that. It was Divine in origin, we know that much. The details are above my station.¡±

    ¡°Who would know?¡±

    ¡°The research was done somewhere near Arborholm, but the researchers must have come from Vadriach University. I can¡¯t even begin to tell you all the layers of secrecy around¡­ all of this. I¡¯m not just talking about the Ancient Weapon. My cell is part of it too. It all fits under the banner of an operation secret enough I don¡¯t even know the name of it. I¡¯m actually not even supposed to know the operation exists, but my superiors aren¡¯t as clever as they think they are. But if we¡¯re starting to kill our own, then something has gone very, very wrong.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Why? Has fidelity lost its meaning?¡±

    Mirian knew enough of Akana Praediar¡¯s geography to know Arborholm was one of the larger towns, at about the same latitude as Torrviol. Vadriach, of course, was the capital of Akana Praediar. Its university was doing cutting-edge research on magic, and was responsible for the fancy spell engines all the classrooms used to project illusionary diagrams. ¡°So this is all part of¡­ some other project?¡±

    ¡°I wish I could tell you more,¡± Idras said. He shook his head again. ¡°Timmons was the only face in the second cell I knew. We coordinated. I don¡¯t know the others. I can also tell you we¡¯re not following the standard operating procedure, so I don¡¯t know how many you¡¯ll have to hunt down.¡± He paused, eyes still fixed on that point on the table, like if he stared long enough, it would tell him something important. Then he finally looked up at Mirian. ¡°How does it happen? How does Akana Praediar fall?¡±

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°You do something with the Divine Monument. Blow it up, try to activate it, I don¡¯t know, the Akanan army obviously doesn¡¯t let me watch¡ªand then the leylines start bursting out of the ground. Everyone dies.¡± There was no need to tell him about the moon falling. She needed Idras to believe his actions would stop what was coming.

    Idras leaned back in his chair, examining Mirian. He had an intensity to his gaze. ¡°But the device¡ªit can reach through time. Maybe it¡¯s sent more than you back. If it has¡­ well, God save me, I have no idea how the leylines work, but¡­ if it can reach through time¡­?¡±

    Mirian thought she understood where he was going with this. What if it had sent more than Mirian back? What if it had also sent some big energy pulse? ¡°When is Akana Praediar¡­ attacked?¡±

    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s been happening for several years, at this point. It was when a factory in Ferrabridge exploded five years ago that the operation began. Two thousand dead, like that,¡± he said, snapping his fingers. ¡°I volunteered for whatever they needed, no matter how dangerous. As I said, I¡¯m a patriot. I would do anything for my country.¡±

    ¡°That wouldn¡¯t make sense. I return to the 1st of Solen. Never any earlier.¡±

    ¡°Then I don¡¯t know. But you know what happens next. How do I help you save Akana Praediar?¡±

    After that, the conversation became about the details of how the spies relayed messages and what they would need to tell the army. Idras looked baffled when she brought up the future incident in Palendurio. He seemed to think that Akana Praediar would simply proclaim that Baracuel had been using a secret weapon to the world, and that would be casus belli enough. After all, he¡¯d been assured by his superiors that the connection between Torrviol¡¯s secret project and the magical explosions in Akana Praediar had been proven by researchers in Vadriach.

    The spies, it turned out, had found an old ruined spire about a mile north, well hidden among the towering trees. There, they¡¯d set up a zephyr falcon roost, secured by its own tiny spellward around the base. They¡¯d been pilfering the fossilized myrvite they needed to run it from the outpost towers around Torrviol.

    Whenever they wanted to send a message, they stole some pigs from the nearby farms and slaughtered them along the route. This, of course, lured out larger myrvite predators, who weren¡¯t going to resist a fresh, easy meal. Busy with easy food, they ignored the spies as they made the journey back and forth, but then the myrvites stuck around the area looking for more food. It kept the ruined spire protected, but not in any way that seemed suspicious.

    The farmers in turn assumed the myrvites had just gotten by the spellward somehow, which also explained why so many people were angry with Mayor Wolden. The bog lion corpse was just the final straw.

    And if there¡¯s myrvites all over the north forest, why wouldn¡¯t a few try to make dens inside the catacombs?

    In the end, Idras agreed to testify both against Captain Mandez¡ªor Nathanial, since that was apparently his real name¡ªand Mayor Wolden, who Timmons had leverage over. He also agreed he would write and sign a message to his superiors asking them to call off the attack. He would mention that the Academy was going to allow an Akanan team from Vadriach examine the Divine Monument, and that Specter had been filing false reports. This meant Mirian would need to get Archmage Luspire to agree to all that, of course. Mirian relayed all of this to Magistrate Ada.

    Getting Archmage Luspire on board sounded simple enough, especially with the support of several professors and the town¡¯s magistrate. However, if there was one thing Mirian had learned so far, it was that it would be nothing of the sort.

    ***

    When Mirian and Jei were at last alone in the grove north of the gardens, it was a relief. Already, she was having nostalgia for the simplicity of being a student. The time loop had taken away the stress of classes, and she¡¯d just been able to learn, and enjoy learning. It was the thing she was good at. This other stuff that involved talking to people, politicking, and stirring up the entire town for a war¡ªit was absurd. Once again, she wondered: why me?

    ¡°What do you think of the Gods?¡± Mirian asked Respected Jei. She remembered her discomfort at a comment she¡¯d made about blessings or something.

    ¡°In ordinary circumstances, I would never answer that,¡± Jei said. ¡°But I will tell you. I do not believe in their divinity.¡±

    That struck Mirian as strange. ¡°But you believe in their¡­ existence.¡±

    ¡°One would be a fool not to. The evidence of their existence is well attested in the historical record, and in circumstantial evidence. How else do we explain things like the Monument? But why does their prowess make them divine?¡±

    ¡°The words of the Prophets. The first ones. They said as much. And the Gods created Enteria. The Labyrinth is proof enough of that.¡±

    Jei pulled out her orb and let the dappled sunlight play off it so that plants nearby glittered with the refractions. ¡°Through the rise and fall of empires, we have already lost many great techniques. No one can create the ancestral orbs anymore, even as our knowledge in magic advances in other ways. Imagine an unlearned human encountering one a thousand years ago; it would seem an impossible feat. Perhaps so advanced they would consider it an Elder artifact.¡±

    ¡°I think I get your point. But the Elder Gods¡ªI mean, there¡¯s a qualitative difference, isn¡¯t there? They can manipulate parts of the world we can¡¯t even see. And time itself, if I¡¯m any indication.¡±

    Jei shrugged. ¡°I do not seek to change your mind on this. Only to answer your question. I will add one more thought: the words of the prophets have been changed. Through the centuries, the documents that exist in Zhighua are and the ones in Baracuel have diverged greatly. I cannot say if this is through deliberate interference, or simply chains of translation shifting meanings piece by piece, but there can be no doubt the difference exists. With the originals missing, whose word is true? There would be no schisms in the religious orders if that absolute truth were knowable. Religion becomes another tool, like crowns and laws and rifles, to be wielded by those who seek control.¡±

    Mirian considered that as she looked about. With winter¡¯s approach, the surrounding forest was a mix of skeletal branches and evergreen needles. Here and there, myrvite winterbloom flowers defied the seasons, pale petals resembling snowflakes. ¡°So what philosophy do you follow?¡±

    ¡°One similar to yours, I imagine. We gain our ethical codes from family. From the society around us. And just because I do not believe the Elders were divine does not mean I cannot appreciate their teachings. Does this satisfy you?¡±

    ¡°I just keep wondering why I was chosen. Of all the people¡ªwhy would I get sent back in time?¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you weren¡¯t. Perhaps it was chance. Many things are.¡±

    ¡°A cosmic accident? Maybe. Maybe that would make more sense. I just¡­ I guess it¡¯s all speculation at this point. I still don¡¯t know how to figure out how it all works, never mind the why of it.¡± She shook her head to clear it. ¡°Well, what¡¯s the curriculum? After I master your foundational techniques.¡±

    Jei picked up a dead leaf from the ground and examined it. ¡°I wish I knew how much time you had. I must believe the time you have is finite. But I must also look at the task that has been set before you. I consider it must be impossible without an understanding of magic that exceeds anyone in the Academy. Therefore, I must prepare you to make discoveries. After you have mastered the foundations, we must expand your knowledge of the glyphs, until it becomes like another language to you.¡±

    ¡°I bet Seneca can help with that.¡±

    ¡°So I imagine. You must learn what you can from everyone who is worth learning from.¡±

    They were silent for a time. The wind rustled through the trees. A few birds tweeted out tentative songs. Mirian took a deep breath. ¡°Well. Might as well get back to it. What exercise should I start with?¡±

    ¡°Twelve through twenty,¡± Jei said. ¡°You must work on introducing no oscillation when you displace energy. Doubly so when working with two energy types. I will demonstrate, and you will copy. Pay attention to the initial formation¡­¡±

    And for a time, Mirian could forget all the things she needed to do, all the pieces on the board of life she needed to move about, and just¡ªlearn. She practiced until her aura was as bare as the deciduous trees, then quaffed a mana elixir and practiced more.

 Chapter 67 - Allies

    The next day, while Respected Jei worked on getting an appointment with Archmage Luspire, Mirian went to see if she could reclaim an old new friendship. She headed over to the lakeview district to an apartment surprisingly close to Xipuatl¡¯s place, and knocked on the door of Nicolus Sacristar.

    Naturally, it was Sire Nurea who answered, left hand still lingering on the door knob, right hand casually close to her belt.

    Mirian gave the honorary bow to her and said, ¡°Hi. Do you know who I am yet?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Nurea, stone-faced.

    ¡°Great! Can I talk to Nicolus about¡ª¡±

    ¡°No.¡± She started to shut the door.

    Mirian stuck her foot inside slightly. ¡°Oh come on, give me more than five seconds! You know, last time you approached me. Listen, I can help House Sacristar.¡±

    Nurea looked unimpressed. ¡°I doubt that,¡± she said, and started putting pressure on the door while Mirian kept her foot there.

    The conversation hadn¡¯t gone at all like she¡¯d planned. Both Nurea and Nicolus were clever about gaining social advantages, negotiating deals, and getting people to help their interests, so she¡¯d thought that was the tactic she needed to lead with. Mirian realized she¡¯d miscalculated, though. That might work on Nicolus, but Sire Nurea prioritized one thing above all else: her ward¡¯s safety. For her, the other stuff was just a consequence of that primary motivation. ¡°I can save Nicolus¡¯s life,¡± she said.

    That got Nurea to stop. ¡°Are you threatening us?¡±

    ¡°What? No! Gods, would you stop being so paranoid for once? Look, whatever you want to believe about how I got it, I have knowledge of the future. Knowledge of several futures, at this point¡ªso I know you. I know Nicolus. I¡¯m his classmate, not some Palamas baron. We were study partners. We read alchemistry books in the library together. He got grease on the pages.¡±

    Nurea was still glaring at her, but she¡¯d stopped pushing on the door, and her hand wasn¡¯t so close to her belt anymore. That was progress.

    ¡°Look, Akana Praediar¡¯s planning some sort of war. You won¡¯t learn about it until Nicolus¡¯s uncle off in Akana Praediar sends a letter on the night of the 20th. That¡¯s your first piece of information. For free. Because I care about Nicolus.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s never mentioned you.¡±

    ¡°Because he doesn¡¯t know me yet. But I know how the war goes. I know where it¡¯s safe, and where it¡¯s not.¡± She didn¡¯t mention, nowhere is safe, because then Nurea would really not listen.

    Nurea looked her over, like she was a fancy painting she was assessing the value of. ¡°What do you get in return?¡±

    ¡°If I stop the attack, my friends don¡¯t die. You¡¯re not the only one protecting someone.¡±

    That seemed to finally get through to Nurea. Mirian saw it in the way her gaze softened. She wasn¡¯t seeing Mirian as her opponent anymore. ¡°Alright. We¡¯ll talk. Do you like tea?¡±

    ¡°Yes, please. Something floral.¡±

    Sire Nurea, it turned out, had a cabinet full of exotic teas, most of which Mirian had never heard of. Well, everyone needed hobbies, didn¡¯t they? While something called ¡®velvet winter¡¯s sorrow¡¯ brewed, they talked.

    ¡°Nicolus is out drinking, then?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°Of course,¡± she said with a sigh.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t he have registration today? No, wait¡ªI bet I know. There¡¯s some weird bureaucratic process where you can submit registration early by proxy, but only if you fill out four different forms that each cost a hunk of silver to obtain.¡±

    ¡°So you do know me,¡± Nurea muttered. Louder, she said, ¡°There¡¯s only three forms involved, but you¡¯re not likely to get the last one approved unless your family donates substantial amounts to the Academy. Anyways, I¡¯ve told Nicolus to hurry back. He needs to hear whatever you have to say.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°You spend five years at this place tutoring someone in magic and you pick up a thing or two.¡± She did not elaborate on the spell mechanism she¡¯d used.

    They were sitting at an ivory-topped table by the window sipping the tea when Nicolus burst in. The tea tasted vaguely minty, but with lavender notes and some other flavor that Mirian couldn¡¯t quite place. She turned as the door opened.

    ¡°Nur, this better be good because I was winning five-one in Juggler¡¯s Jig and I¡¯d¡ªoh. You. I know you. You¡¯re that weirdo who does calculus for fun.¡± Nicolus looked at Nurea, made a face, then held up a finger. ¡°Nope, don¡¯t say it. That was undiplomatic, which is a weird word. Sounds like someone didn¡¯t get a diploma. Sorry, you¡¯re that awkward girl who perseveres in class and is really c¡­ uh¡­.¡±

    ¡°How much have you had to drink?¡±

    ¡°Two pints.¡± When Nurea glared at him, Nicolus admitted, ¡°Okay, four. Maybe six. Look, this was our big celebration, no one looks for a forbidden party in the morning.¡±

    ¡°And I did intend to honor your day off, but plans change. This is Mirian,¡± Nurea said.

    Nicolus froze. ¡°Ohhhhh shit. Wait, you¡¯re Mirian? You killed a guy.¡±

    ¡°Nicolus.¡±

    ¡°Right, five hell¡ªNur, give me a damned elixir, I know you have one.¡± Quieter, he said, ¡°I can always punish my liver later.¡±

    Nurea went to one of the cabinets and pulled out a small red vial, which she feigned throwing at Nicolus. He seemed to be used to this tactic, though, because he just rolled his eyes and held out his hand until she placed it there, then quaffed it and put his head down on the table. Nicolus would sober up in a few minutes, Mirian knew, though the process wouldn¡¯t be pleasant. Practical alchemistry at its finest.

    ¡°So why are you coming to us? What¡¯s the offer?¡± Nurea said.

    Mirian told them, going with the same basic story of the war and leyline eruptions that she¡¯d told the spy. She talked about the study sessions, and what she¡¯d learned from the spies. She didn¡¯t mention Nurea dying in the train car. ¡°So I need your help. Nicolus, your uncle knows something. Even the spies don¡¯t know about the attack on the embassy planned in Palendurio, but somehow, your uncle does. I need to know what he knows. He may be key in stopping the war from even beginning.¡±

    Nicolus, who by now was sitting upright, said, ¡°Huh.¡±

    Nurea had started grinding her teeth.

    Mirian knew she needed to start addressing Nurea¡¯s concerns. She said, ¡°If Idras¡¯s message to Akana Praediar works, we may have time. A lot more time.¡± The lie felt bitter coming off her tongue, but Nurea wasn¡¯t a fool. Mirian had constructed her story carefully, but not well enough.

    Nurea clearly suspected Mirian was planning for future cycles, which meant they would die in this one. ¡°I need a map and a timeline of the magical eruptions. A back-up plan. I won¡¯t accept a deal otherwise.¡±

    Mirian closed her eyes. She could make up something, but it would only take one zephyr falcon arriving with news of an early eruption Mirian didn¡¯t know about for the scheme to evaporate weeks early. From what Idras had said, she was beginning to suspect these magical eruptions weren¡¯t exactly new, they were just dramatically increasing in frequency. ¡°I don¡¯t have that yet.¡±

    Nurea¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Then there¡¯s no deal. I need assurances that my ward will stay safe. I need¡ª¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Nur, she can¡¯t,¡± Nicolus said.

    ¡°Boy, don¡¯t interrupt. My decisions take precedence in matters of¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not a boy anymore. I know you¡¯re still thinking of that pudgy little toddler who liked to play on high stone walls and sneak into the armory, but I¡¯m an adult now. I¡¯ll have full rights in a year. And this isn¡¯t something you can control, any more than she can.¡±

    Sire Nurea stood, smashing her hand down on the table hard enough Mirian involuntarily scooted back in her chair. She was livid, but she didn¡¯t say anything, she just stared at Nicolus.

    Nicolus didn¡¯t flinch though. ¡°Mirian, how many times have you died?¡±

    ¡°Thirteen.¡±

    ¡°Nur, you can¡¯t protect me from the world forever. And I have been listening.¡± He stood and put his hand on his knight¡¯s shoulder.

    Sire Nurea closed her eyes. She was holding back tears, Mirian realized. This was her nightmare: something she couldn¡¯t protect him from. ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± she said.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to. I¡¯ve got this.¡± He squeezed her shoulder.

    Nurea nodded, then left, her cloak swirling as she grabbed it and put it on, not slowing as she walked out the door.

    Nicolus stared at the closed door for a bit, then looked at Mirian. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± he said. ¡°There¡¯s¡­ a bit of a history there. Nothing you need to worry about.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s pulled a pistol on me several times.¡±

    ¡°Right, fair enough, you do need to worry about it. We¡¯ll work something out. I can get a letter off to my uncle. How much do you know about what the Sacristar family has been up to?¡±

    ¡°A little. You¡¯re trying to shift the Sacristar holdings to something more modern. Getting a foothold in Akana Praediar, since the other noble families have too tight a grip on the new industries in Baracuel. Your uncle¡¯s establishing key contacts there. Where is he, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Vadriach. Well, he bounces back and forth between there and Mercanton. They¡¯re both practically right next to each other, it¡¯s only a few hours on the train. Vadriach has all the politicians, Mercanton has all the big money.¡± Nicolus sat back down, and looked out the window, out at Torrviol Lake. ¡°Uncle Alexus has his finger on the pulse of Akana. There¡¯s¡­ rumors. Something big in the works. I thought he meant investment opportunities. He¡¯s mostly been looking into joint stock companies, especially those that are starting to corner key parts of the spell engine market. ¡®Follow the energy,¡¯ is what he likes to say. And he¡¯s not wrong. Civilization is built on it.¡±

    Mirian frowned, not entirely sure where the conversation was going. ¡°Like magical energy?¡±

    ¡°If it turns a wheel, it counts. The more wheels it turns, the more important. Magic is important, but an individual spellcaster can only do so much. Spell engines are the key part of society now. They¡¯re used to build things on scales we could only dream of two hundred years ago. They keep the myrvites out. They¡¯re used to make and do everything. Transportation. Clothing. Buildings. Tools.¡± He paused. ¡°Weapons.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve talked about this all before, though not as directly.¡±

    ¡°Have I? Well, I need to lay the theory out, because if there¡¯s a war, it¡¯s about control of energy. That means spell engines, and the two critical components that run them: fossilized myrvite, and conduit crystals. Everything else is too dispersed to corner the market on, despite what Calisto likes to say. The war in Persama is about fossilized myrvite. The war in Zhighua is about conduit crystals. Oh, the politicians and press will tell you it¡¯s about religion, or dignity, or civilizing projects, or protecting people, or even some ridiculous high minded ideal they read in a philosophy book, but it¡¯s not. But you¡¯ve just said there¡¯s a third source of energy.¡±

    Mirian gave him a quizzical look. ¡°I did?¡±

    ¡°Well, maybe we can¡¯t control it. But even if we can¡¯t, enough people in power just have to think we can, and they¡¯ll fight for it. The Divine Monument. If Akana thinks it''s a weapon that can control something like the leylines, and more, it¡¯s a limited resource that can be decisively controlled, it becomes a third pillar of empire. Whatever else people are going on about, it¡¯s all a veil. Regular people care about things like having a good life, eating well, talking with friends, and finding love. The elite care about power and control. They obsess over it, and are terrified of losing it.¡±

    ¡°And what about you?¡±

    Nicolus turned and looked at her. ¡°I think that those who have power get to decide what kind of world we have. I¡¯d like to make the one we have¡­ better. Wouldn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I just¡­ I never saw that as a possibility. Except, now I guess I have to¡­ I need to understand it all. So I can save¡ªbut I guess this is about more than just saving Torrviol, isn¡¯t it? It¡¯s just¡ªit¡¯s all so big.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll help you,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°Not altruistically. I¡¯m already way too jaded for that¡ªnasty part of studying political economy is it does that to you¡ªbut because I want to have a hand in how the world turns. So in exchange, I want in.¡±

    ¡°You want¡­ in?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Whatever project you end up building.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m building,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°If what you¡¯ve told me is true, you¡¯ve got a lot of time to figure that out. Me, I guess I won¡¯t remember saying all this. But you will. And every person you talk to will give you this small piece of themselves and their ideas. You get to carry those pieces of people into the future. Gather enough pieces, and you¡¯ll assemble something the rest of us can only dream of.¡±

    Mirian scrutinized him, and this time she saw more than just a handsome young man, and more than an easygoing study partner. She felt¡­ different about him, in a way she didn¡¯t fully understand. ¡°You know, Nicolus, you¡¯re a lot smarter than you pretend to be.¡±

    Nicolus gave her that big goofy smile of his. Mirian liked that smile. It was so genuine. ¡°Don¡¯t go spreading that around. I have a reputation to maintain. So you¡¯ll do it?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can. You¡¯re in.¡± She reached out her hand, and they shook on it. Briefly, she thought again of the last time their hands had clasped. The world had been ending. This time, she felt like it was a beginning. She¡¯d found a second person who understood¡ªreally understood¡ªthe implications of the time loop.

    ¡°Great. I¡¯ll start drafting a letter to Uncle Alexus tonight. And I¡¯ll give some thought into how to better facilitate our partnership in the future. Because¡­ we¡¯re all going to die again, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    Mirian took a deep breath in. ¡°We are. Over and over. But I won¡¯t give up. I promise.¡±

    ***

    The next person she needed to talk to was Valen. She still had mixed feelings about her. Valen was loyal, but something of a wild card. She was interesting, but annoying. And because of the way she felt about Mirian, she was easy to manipulate. But she also knew she was being manipulated, and seemed to revel in it. For all that Mirian understood the girl, she was still alien to her.

    Mirian cast a disguise spell before meeting up with her, then used the code-phrase to identify herself that Valen had insisted they use. It all seemed a bit ridiculous, but Valen was enjoying her role as spymaster.

    ¡°How¡¯s it been going?¡± Mirian asked as they walked through the north gardens by the Myrvite Studies building. They could hear the calls of the wyverns in their pens, which Mirian remembered Valen enjoyed listening to.

    Valen rolled her eyes. ¡°It¡¯s a mess. No one knows what¡¯s going on, but that doesn¡¯t stop them from loudly proclaiming what they think as objective fact. Mayor Wolden¡¯s definitely out, though. Archmage Luspire doesn¡¯t know if he should cancel classes or not. For all the people who¡¯ve heard that you¡¯re at the center of this, plenty have no idea. They¡¯ve heard that it¡¯s Professor Cassius who¡¯s time traveling, or think you¡¯re not a student at all, but just pretending to be one. You got to interrogate an actual Akanan spy?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°So envious.¡±

    ¡°I learned how they¡¯re relaying messages. Magistrate Ada is going to have people keeping an eye on the derelict tower north of town, but the more eyes we have looking for people moving out of town, the better. There¡¯s definitely a second cell, and the Impostor is a Baracueli. Is there a Deeps unit here in Torrviol?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know that already?¡±

    Mirian glared at her.

    ¡°Fine. I don¡¯t know either.¡±

    ¡°Can you¡­ ask your dad?¡± Valen hadn¡¯t said all that much about her father, beyond his exploits as a spy.

    ¡°I can, but I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll say much. And I¡¯ll have to dig him up from the cemetery in Cairnmouth first.¡±

    Mirian grimaced. ¡°Eugh. Don¡¯t think you mentioned that before. Sorry.¡±

    Valen shrugged. ¡°Eh. I¡¯ve had time to get over it. If there is a Deeps unit here, there would be at least four of them. But there¡¯s too many Akanan spies for that. Unless they all managed to be turn-coats, which I really doubt. But maybe there¡¯s a Syndicate presence. They don¡¯t care all that much for nationalities.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know that already?¡±

    Valen rolled her eyes again, which was her favorite pastime. ¡°I¡¯ll look into it. Also, I sent a letter to my brother in Fort Aegrimare like you asked. It¡¯s a fort, though. There¡¯s not going to be suspicious activity that isn¡¯t related to the infantry hiding all the drinking and gambling they¡¯re secretly doing.¡±

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Mirian said. Then she raised an eyebrow. ¡°Ready?¡±

    She could see Valen¡¯s haughty attitude draining out of her, replaced by wide-eyed anticipation. ¡°Yes,¡± she whispered.

    Mirian leaned over and they kissed, just for a moment. It was gentle, and tantalizing. When they were done, she wanted more, and she could tell Valen did too. But she stopped, and stepped away from her.

    Valen stayed there a moment, eyes closed, then said, ¡°Ohhh, you¡¯re evil, you know that? Alright, I¡¯ll see you around.¡±

    As she watched Valen go, she still didn¡¯t know what to think about it. It still felt weird to have power over someone, but that was exactly what Valen had said she enjoyed when they¡¯d mapped out their deal. She had to give her credit: she knew what she liked, and unlike Mirian, she didn¡¯t seem to carry any self-doubt with her.

    She thought of Nicolus. What am I building? she wondered. She realized that some part of her still thought there might be a ¡®normal¡¯ after this. That when it was all over, she would graduate, and her family would cheer as she walked across the stage. Then she¡¯d settle down in a cozy artifice shop and create a nice, subdued life. Just a dream, she thought. She let her disguise spell fade away, flecks of light breaking off her like leaves falling, and headed back into Torrviol.

    For now, she would keep her focus here. Somehow, fate has conspired to make the town a fulcrum, where armies and spies clashed over a relic of the Gods. And whatever future she was building, she wanted to keep this second home of hers safe.

 Chapter 68 - Setup

    The start of this loop had been a whirlwind. Mirian was relieved when the next few days were more subdued. Sure, there was still the chaos of the plebiscite, and people still stared at her wherever she went, or asked her if she could tell their fortune, but there wasn¡¯t the constant feeling of being rushed. She met with the magistrate a few more times, and both Nicolus and Valen twice more. She was still busy, but relative to what she¡¯d just gone through, it was nearly relaxing.

    There was that anticipation hanging over her. She¡¯d made yet more changes to the cycle, and something unexpected still could come out of nowhere, like Priest Krier leading a mob, or¡ªor what? And that was the problem. There was going to be something, and she didn¡¯t know what that something was.

    She did have a plan for heading off Priest Krier, though. Seventhday, she went to his sermon.

    Mirian had heard his lecture several times during the earlier cycles before she stopped going to the temple. As far as she could tell, it hadn¡¯t changed. Likely, he was reading directly from the notes on his podium. As he talked, her eyes drifted to the statue of the Ominian that loomed behind him. She thought of the colossal statue in her dreams, wounds leaking ichor. She had now seen it too many times to have any doubt; if one of the Gods was responsible for her predicament, it must be the Ominian.

    When the sermon ended, she waited patiently for her turn to talk, ignoring the pointed stares and whispers.

    ¡°Holy one,¡± she said. ¡°I have been a faithful adherent to the Luminate Order all my life. Now, I see possible futures. What does the Luminate Order wish of me?¡±

    Priest Krier¡¯s wrinkled face creased as he examined her. ¡°The other priests and I have been discussing that, actually. It¡¯s¡­ a bit strange. We¡¯ve been struggling to find precedent in the holy texts for a situation like this. The Prophets were all devout of the Order, not simply members. And thus far, the Gods have continued their usual silence. It might be more comfortable to discuss this over tea.¡± This time, his expression and tone didn¡¯t hold the pity for a suspected lunatic they¡¯d held a year ago, but nor did they hold the righteous fury from last cycle.

    Mirian hadn¡¯t intended to go anywhere in private with him. She¡¯d chosen to talk to him after a sermon specifically because she wanted an audience that could intervene if he tried something. Maybe he was still intending to do something, but it didn¡¯t feel like that. Still, it would be safer to stay in the central sanctuary. ¡°No thank you, holy one. It feels right to talk where they can watch,¡± she said, gesturing at the statues and reliefs that loomed around them in the deep shadows of the temple.

    Priest Krier nodded. ¡°I often do my best thinking here. It is comforting to know that, despite their own trials, that we are held sacred by the eyes of the Divine.¡±

    Her eyes lingered on the statue of the Ominian. ¡°I think I¡¯ve seen another statue of Them. Only, the temple is strange and shifting, and Their wounds are bare.¡±

    ¡°And what did this statue of the Ominian look like?¡±

    Mirian described it for him as best she could. The black ichor that dripped from the hollow wounds. The strange rock that was carved to look like wings and eyes, the body full of gaping maws. The strange images that played through her mind.

    When she was done, Priest Krier had a stunned look. He was silent for a long time. Then he said, ¡°You speak of mysteries that are sealed to all but the Order. Do you think the Ominian speaks to you?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. Not in words, though. It¡¯s more like¡­ symbols. Concepts. Sometimes, I think I know what something means, and other times, I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°The Elder Gods are not like us. The holy texts are clear that they experience the cosmos in ways we cannot conceive. The Second Prophet said, ¡®What we see as a line, they see as an infinite plane. When we see a sealed tomb, they see both the bones interred and the path they took before they came to rest.¡¯ He began the Order¡¯s tradition of the new Prophets speaking to the old. Perhaps you will find wisdom in the words of the other Prophets.¡±

    ¡°Would I be able to¡­ join the Luminate Order? As an acolyte?¡±

    ¡°Likely not. There¡¯s a doctrinal problem. The Fourth Prophet said clearly, ¡®No Prophet can be an acolyte, for they breach the mysteries of the Order like a tree¡¯s roots sunder the soil.¡¯ A Prophet must be declared by the Pontifex, or in his absence, by the council of archbishop electors. We have already sent word to the Great Sanctum in Palendurio and await the response.¡±

    Huh, thought Mirian. The world must end before they ever get it. The crisis in Palendurio probably doesn¡¯t help. ¡°I want to make sure I stay in the good graces of the Order. I have always been faithful to the Gods.¡±

    Krier smiled, and there was a genuine warmth to his smile that Mirian didn¡¯t expect, especially given her last two encounters with him. ¡°I would expect no less from one who has been smiled upon by them. You have nothing to worry about from the Order. If you wish to read from the holy texts, the temple¡¯s doors are always open to you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. I¡¯ll do that some time,¡± Mirian said, and gave a shallow bow with her hand over her heart, as was traditional. As she left, she could only feel bafflement. What chain of events had caused that man to whip up a mob? Had she missed something? Was the Impostor responsible, still pulling strings in Torrviol? If the Impostor was in Torrviol, why wasn¡¯t she trying to kill Mirian? She didn¡¯t really take all that many precautions. Surely a woman who could impersonate an Arcane Praetorian could break into her dorm and kill her. Why hasn¡¯t she? She¡¯d been assuming that was because she fled Torrviol, but as the mayor¡¯s assistant had made clear, at least one of the cells was staying behind.

    Well, they could hide as they liked. She¡¯d find them all eventually.

    ***

    The relative calm continued to prevail in Torrviol. As the second quarter began, Mirian took her place as an official apprentice of Jei. On Firstday, the plebiscite nominated Sire Ethwarn again as mayor, and the next day the city council confirmed his appointment. The spies continued to lay low. Through this, Mirian continued her preparations. She¡¯d prepared a series of battle maps to show Professor Cassius and Captain Moliner, assuming they ended up in the same roles as militia captains, and then General Hanaran when her forces arrived. She continued to train, with Jei when she could, without her when her mentor was busy with classes.

    Jei also managed to convince Professor Torres to give her special instruction in artifice from time to time. Despite her proficiency, Torres always had suggestions or corrections. As they worked, Ingrid often stopped by, sometimes to watch, sometimes to add advice of her own.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Secondday, though, was when Xipuatl joined Nicolus in studying for Spell Engine Alchemistry. Mirian instructed Nicolus to make sure those study sessions would happen, then arranged to meet them in the library.

    On her way to the study room, a boy, a fifth year by his uniform, smiled and said, ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the future-girl, right? What¡¯s my future?¡±

    Normally, Mirian just glared at them, or told them it didn¡¯t work like that, but this time, recognition surfaced in her mind. There were too many thousands of people in Torrviol for her to know individually, but she had seen him while watching from the parapets of Bainrose, several times. ¡°You try to cross the Academy plaza during an Akanan artillery barrage and get your torso blown apart.¡± She stated it simply, like one might comment on the weather.

    The boy gave a nervous laugh, trying to act like the words hadn¡¯t just made his face blanch. ¡°Good one,¡± he said, then hurried away. She caught him whispering to his friend, ¡°Shut up! I did not!¡± before she was out of earshot.

    She was relieved to be in the study room. Mirian still wasn¡¯t used to all the staring.

    Familiar faces greeted her.

    ¡°Good to see you for the first time again, Xipuatl,¡± she said.

    Xipuatl glanced at Nicolus, who shrugged. ¡°She did the same thing to you?¡±

    ¡°More or less,¡± Nicolus said.

    ¡°And you really believe her? I mean, I¡¯m the first to admit our understanding of magical theory has massive gaps, but time magic¡ª¡±

    ¡°Your family¡¯s elder reliquary is in your meditation room, behind a permanent illusion in the stone wall,¡± Mirian said.

    Xipuatl said something in Tlaxa that she guessed was probably a string of curse words.

    ¡°I¡¯ll give you the same offer I did with Nicolus. You want a unified theory of arcane and soul magic? I¡¯ll help you with it. But I need your expertise in soul magic.¡±

    Nurea, who was standing in the corner, now back to her usual statuesque composure, raised a single eyebrow. Nicolus said, ¡°He¡¯s exempt from prosecution, due to the heritage clause. There¡¯s no risk to us, only her.¡±

    Mirian said, ¡°Xipuatl, do you want more details?¡±

    ¡°That would be¡­ nice,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯ll forgive me if I¡¯m not the most trusting individual.¡±

    ¡°Trust is for idiots,¡± Nicolus said.

    ¡°You just told me you¡¯re taking the risk and trusting her,¡± Xipuatl said.

    Nicolus grinned. ¡°No inconsistency there.¡±

    Mirian sighed, then summarized Xipuatl¡¯s own theories. Then she told him more about the cycles, what she could do, and what she couldn¡¯t. Once she¡¯d done that, she could already sense the answer. Xipuatl was cautious, but by now she knew this passion of his for solving this particular mystery of the cosmos was irresistible. ¡°Dammit, I¡¯m in,¡± he said.

    Mirian smiled. ¡°Glad to have you on board.¡±

    ***

    Perhaps her conversation with Priest Krier had ignited the dreams anew, or perhaps it was just a coincidence, but that night, Mirian dreamed of the Mausoleum of the Ominian again. As she walked through the middle of the central sanctum, she realized that it now felt familiar. Though the walls and alcoves shifted as she walked past them, they faded in and out of view in familiar patterns. There were the statues of strange beasts with dozens of eyes and tentacles. There was the relief of the great beast with a torso made of hundreds of pincers, with eye-stalks that looked like claws. There was the twisting latticework that shone with colors that defied description. She knew that if she walked a few more steps, another set of statues would fade, and a wall of the constellations interspersed with black, rippled stone carved with gaping maws would appear.

    When she had first seen it, the place had terrified her. Now, it still unnerved her, but the familiarity was comforting.

    Nicolus had said she would bring with her pieces of the people she talked with. Professor Viridian might have said something similar¡ªthat every person was affected by their environment and experiences. Nothing existed alone.

    She held onto that idea. She was so far from normal now that she often felt isolated, but she needed to remember that every experience she had mattered. It all served a purpose, a path forward.

    Mirian sat before the strange and colossal statue of the Ominian and looked around the room. There was no need to build an imaginary house to try to categorize her memories; this one was perfect. She began to sort through what she remembered. Her lessons in cosmology and religion could go there, by the starfield. Each constellation might represent a God, and each star a story. Her lessons in illusion could fit within the shifting latticework around the ceiling; she could recall Professor Marva lecturing, and put her memories of it there, along the white stone that dripped like stalactites. Professor Endresen¡¯s physics lessons melded into the pillars that supported the right wall. Viridian¡¯s ecosystem lessons went into the pillars along the left.

    She thought of Daith, the boy from her Combat Magic classes, and put his conversations next to the scorpion-like beast, with carapace-like layered feathers. She thought of Selesia, and put the moments walking hand in hand with her by the dark, empty windows that looked out to a night brimming with stars.

    Little by little, she sorted, categorized, and thought.

    Behind her, the Ominian watched.

    ***

    The next day, she went through two more mana elixirs in her practice session with Jei, using one before lunch and another after. With both Nicolus and Jei helping to supply gold to her endeavors, money had ceased to be a problem entirely. She could buy whatever materials she needed for artifice; the constraint began to be the supply. Torrviol only had so many myrvite parts coming in that could be used to make elixirs or rarer artifice components. For example, only one box of manticore parts was delivered per week, so there was a hard limit on how many mantic tails and sacs she could get ahold of. She might try to order more, but by the time she dispatched the orders and the merchants in Cairnmouth got ahold of the goods and shipped them north, they would already be getting to the part of the cycle where the train broke down and then the army took them over.

    A spell of dizziness hit her just before dinner, so Mirian spent at least an hour sprawled out on her dorm room bed in total exhaustion, while Lily talked at her. She was conscious enough to murmur ¡°uh huh¡± and ¡°wow¡± and ¡°really?¡± at the appropriate times, but not much else.

    After dinner, she met briefly with Valen again, still feeling woozy. The big news was that Mayor Ethwarn had ordered his predecessor''s home investigated ahead of the trial on corruption. The spy Idras had helped point the guards to a secret room behind a bookcase. Valen was beside herself. ¡°A sliding bookcase, accessed by pulling the right two volumes? Absolutely classic!¡±

    That had revealed a stash of documents and reports, as well as a stash of ten Florinian Ingots. Each ingot was worth a thousand gold coins¡ªonly, there was a problem. The ingots were fakes. They were lead with gold leaf over them, not solid gold. But stranger still, the magical seal of authenticity seemed to be real. ¡°Someone¡¯s got connections. Big connections. Even the Syndicates never got their hands on genuine Florinian seals,¡± Valen said. ¡°Damn, Mirian, you look awful. I mean, like, sick, beyond your usual terrible visage that makes children cry.¡±

    Despite that, Mirian still wasn¡¯t done. She had to keep pushing herself. She went east behind the dorms into the more forested area. A shattered clay alcohol jug indicated she wasn¡¯t the only one who ever came back here, but for now, it was deserted. She took out the wand of levitation she¡¯d pilfered from the catacombs, and channeled.

    Exhausted as she was, she still managed to hover above the ground a full five feet in the air. She returned to the ground, a triumphant smile on her face. It was nice to know all her hard work was paying off.

 Chapter 69 - The Archmage

    Mirian met with the newly elected Mayor Ethwarn on Fourthday again. She had wondered if the election would turn out the same way. After all, the process was a messy thing involving most of the town, and she¡¯d changed a lot of variables this cycle. She¡¯d thought that with so many hundreds of people vying for the office and different interest groups making and breaking their hourly alliances that even small changes would lead to a different result. Instead, it seemed his prominence in town, the connections he had, and the money he¡¯d thrown around to build support had outweighed all of that.

    Their discussion was similar enough. She made her predictions, and he sent out his zephyr falcons. It would be a few days yet before her predictions were confirmed, and the militia started to organize and train. Her battlemaps were already ready, so she focused her efforts on magical research and practice. A few times, she stopped by the Luminate Temple to read the holy texts, where a friendly Priest Krier had already prepared several volumes for her to pour over. It all still seemed strange. Her best guess was that the death of the spy who was working as Mayor Wolden¡¯s assistant had somehow influenced events. Perhaps if he was left alive, he falsely reported Mirian spouting blasphemies. Perhaps all she needed to do was check in before her reputation got out of hand. She came to his Seventhday sermon. This time, it had changed, from a lecture on Xylatarvia to more about the tribulations of the First Prophet.

    Meanwhile, Jei had continued to harangue Archmage Luspire about a meeting, eventually roping in Professor Torres (who in turn talked to Cassius and Seneca) to help her. The Academy staff, annoyed that Luspire had done a terrible job handling the break-ins, mostly had no problem needling him to respond to some part of the developing situation, whether that was the fact that foreign spies had been running rampant in the Academy, or that time travel might be possible.

    Finally, he agreed to meet on Secondday.

    Respected Jei found her in the grove before the appointment, practicing. ¡°Sloppy,¡± she said after observing Mirian go through the middle group of exercises.

    ¡°Sorry. I¡¯ve been having these¡­ dizzy spells lately. I keep losing focus.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Rest, then.¡±

    Mirian shook her head. ¡°I still have a few elixirs left. I can keep going.¡±

    Jei raised an eyebrow. ¡°Spellcasting is more than simply using mana. If you use your mind, it is connected to your body, and bodies need rest.¡± She said a phrase in Gulwenen, then said, ¡°It means, ¡®only the fool breaks themselves into pieces to cover more of the ground.¡¯ Do you have this expression?¡±

    ¡°Probably. I can¡¯t think of it at the moment. The meeting is soon, right? I should probably get ready.¡±

    ¡°Yes. And I will tell you what I have discovered,¡± Jei said as they began to walk towards Torrian Tower.

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°I do not have many friends among the professors and researchers. Many people are like Roland. You understand. I have worked to ¡®be friendly.¡¯¡± Jei put on a fake smile. It was mildly disturbing, and looked unnatural on her face. ¡°This is how Baracueli act. Many smiles, even when you are not happy and you are just doing simple things like talking about work. You must smile to reassure them all is well, or they get nervous. I have been smiling and talking. Also, if you bake people pear tarts, they like you a lot better, and they tell you things they did not before.¡±

    ¡°Pear tarts¡­ should I be taking notes?¡± Mirian asked.

    This time, Jei gave one of her genuine smiles, a subtle smirk that barely moved her face. Her laughter was in her eyes far more than her mouth. ¡°This is all to say, I have been getting people to tell me what the Archmage is up to. He wants badly to leave this, what was the word? Backwater. Instead, he wants to go get an appointment at Vadriach University.¡±

    Mirian snorted. ¡°Well that isn¡¯t going to happen.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Unfortunately, Medius Luspire is very smart, and smart people are the best at deceiving themselves.¡±

    ¡°Huh. I never thought of it like that. So¡­ has he been working with the spies like the mayor was?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. If he did, he was more clever. He met with Captain Mandez regularly, but those were official meetings about the break-ins. No obvious bribes or any other connections anyone I talked to knows about. Maybe he was just thinking about his career. Ghellia¡ªsorry, you do not know first names¡ªProfessor Marva, did you have them? The illusionist?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Good. Smart. They know more than just illusions. Good to talk to about spell efficiency, and maintaining concurrent mana flows. Anyways, Marva heard that Luspire went on a trip to Vadriach two years back. They did not treat him well. He was quick to judge me for being from Zhighua, but he was baffled that the Akanans might do the same to him for being Baracueli. Probably the only time he encountered prejudice. Marva thought this was very funny.¡±

    ¡°Okay. It shouldn¡¯t be that hard, then, right? He wants to be buddy-buddy with the Akanans, inviting their team to check out the Divine Monument should be exactly what he wants, right?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Jei said.

    Mirian made a face. ¡°Really? I guess I should expect that by now. Why not?¡±

    ¡°Because if our research team makes a breakthrough, he gets to claim credit, and that guarantees he gets recruited to Vadriach University. If the Vadriach researchers come here, why do they now need him?¡±

    ¡°Oh. Ugh. So what do I do?¡±

    Jei said, ¡°If I knew, I would tell you. But inevitably, you will discover this.¡±

    She sighed. ¡°I suppose I will.¡±

    Mirian had never actually been inside Torrian Tower before. At the gate entrance, an attendant and special Academy guard allowed them in. The short entry hall quickly spilled out into a cavernous central room. Tiered balconies of black and white stone from the higher levels overlooked the first floor. Dangling from those balconies were the ancient red and white banners of Torrviol, before it was incorporated into Baracuel during the Unification War. High above on the ceiling she saw beautifully gilded honeycomb vaulting in a style she¡¯d previously only seen in Alkazaria. Along the balconies, she saw researchers wearing their formal robes striding about. Her arcane sense could feel how much magic was flowing through this place.

    They crossed the room, which turned a corner and led to the stairs. As they did, Mirian observed several arcanists had disassembled part of the stone facade around the archway, and were taking readings on the glyphs. She recognized the sequences immediately; they detected both weapons and illusions. The Impostor must have found a way to bypass it, if she was disguised as Gavell, Mirian realized. And they don¡¯t know how she did it.

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The spiral staircase wrapped around the circumference of the tower, making for a long trek up to the upper floors. Along that staircase were portraits of the archmages of the Academy that had come before Luspire. Everything was made of the same white and black polished stone, and each tapestry or rug had a decidedly crimson theme to it. Archmage Luspire¡¯s office was on the sixth floor. On one end of the room was the singular balcony of that floor, overlooking the interior room that dominated the lower levels. On the other, a vaulted window looked out at Torrviol, the overcast light from it mixing with the warm glyph lamps. Ornate bookcases lined the walls, interspersed with small red marble statues of the Gods atop pedestals. A second door led out of the room, presumably to his personal quarters.

    As soon as Mirian saw Archmage Luspire, she could see what Jei had described. While he still wore the formal embroidered cape of his station, he wore a suit that looked more like what the Akanan arcanists preferred, and unlike most of his male colleagues at the Academy, he was clean shaven. The faintest hints of wrinkles had started to crease his face, and his dark brown eyes projected an easy confidence.

    ¡°Archmage,¡± Mirian said with a short bow.

    Luspire said nothing, he merely waited for everyone to be seated. High Wizard Ferrandus had joined them, as had several Academy officials Mirian didn¡¯t recognize. He frowned, then said, ¡°So, do you already know what I¡¯m going to say next?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Every cycle is different. Should I just¡­?¡±

    Archmage Luspire made a ¡®hmph,¡¯ sound.

    Mirian blundered forward with the conversation. ¡°The, uh¡­ well, I believe you¡¯ve been informed why I¡¯m here. The Akanans should be invited to help research the Divine Monument so they know it¡¯s not a weapon.¡±

    ¡°Do you know it¡¯s not a weapon?¡± Luspire asked.

    ¡°Well, I guess not. But we¡ªthat is Baracuel¡ªare certainly not using it as one right now. That¡¯s what the Akanans think.¡±

    ¡°Is it?¡±

    Mirian bit her lip. She didn¡¯t realize that would be a point of contention. In truth, she had little idea what regular people in Akana thought. Had Idras been lying to her? ¡°Key people in the Republic Intelligence Division think it. Anyways, it could stop the war before it begins. Otherwise, Torrviol is turned into rubble and the leylines erupt.¡±

    Luspire raised a finger. ¡°That is the claim I find quite fascinating. Can you explain the mechanism by which the leylines erupt? My colleagues certainly cannot.¡±

    ¡°Well, the Divine Monument being blown up is the only direct cause I know about. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s the only cause, but you don¡¯t have to understand a mechanism to understand the result.¡± Mirian had remembered Professor Endresen saying something like that in her physics class.

    Respected Jei interjected. ¡°You know she doesn¡¯t have that data because she¡¯s a student. You do have leyline monitoring data, and you know they¡¯ve become dramatically more volatile in the past decade. Why ask questions when you already know the answer?¡±

    Luspire smiled. ¡°I¡¯m attempting to establish what she does know. Not very much, I must say. Your argument on probabilities is completely bereft of hard numbers.¡±

    Jei glared at him. ¡°No social science can calculate the probabilities of knowledge and events, but one can use qualitative groupings of event rarity based on general expectations, as Talmi et al showed in their book on social prediction theory.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t particularly want to rehash that argument,¡± Luspire said with a sigh. ¡°The Divine Monument represents a potential revolution in magical thinking only comparable to spell engines. It is the Torrviol Academy¡¯s great discovery, and it should be our names that go down in history.¡± He looked to Ferrandus, who nodded his assent.

    ¡°That revolution won¡¯t happen,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Akana Praediar attacks Baracuel in four days. You¡¯ll be getting the first news of the embassy attack in Palendurio tomorrow. You need to send a zephyr falcon to Vadriach as soon as possible.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mayor Ethwarn has been saying as much. This all seems quite implausible to me. I am in regular contact with Vadriach University, though, and the only thing that happened over in Akana that might be considered a magical eruption can easily be attributed to a faulty spell engine that ignited a store of fossilized myrvite.¡±

    Then either Idras is lying, or being lied to, or the information is being suppressed, Mirian thought. Already, she could tell she wasn¡¯t going to convince the Archmage this time. But it had revealed several critical things: that Torrviol Academy was already studying the leylines, and that there had indeed been a large magical explosion in Akana Praediar. It would also open up a new line of questioning with Idras.

    With the Archmage making his position clear, the meeting went through a bit more back and forth between them. Luspire did his best to say as little as possible and be as dismissive as possible. It was clear he was having the conversation so that he could say he¡¯d had it, rather than because he wanted any productive discussion. Just as Jei had said, he was smart enough to find an alternative explanation for anything Mirian brought up. Then, Luspire announced he had another meeting, and the conversation was over.

    As they left, winding down the long staircase, Mirian told Jei, ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do with it, but I¡¯d like to see that leyline data.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s an older project. Funding for it was cut off a few years back,¡± Jei said.

    ¡°Huh. Wait, they had evidence the leylines were destabilizing, but stopped studying it? How does that make sense?¡±

    ¡°A great many things in this country do not make sense to me. I can get you the reports, though. Now you know what Luspire will say, and can prepare for it.¡±

    It was clear that Luspire hadn¡¯t really intended to listen to what she had to say. He¡¯d wanted to relieve some of the pressure he was feeling from the mayor and staff. At least next time, she could come to him with more information about Akana, and more information about the leylines. Bainrose Library could provide her an archive of newspapers from Akana to study, and Nicolus could probably help fill in the details.

    ***

    In her practice session with Xipuatl later that day, Mirian started as she always did by examining her soul. She was disturbed to find streams of energy splaying, like someone had been picking at pieces of a spool of thread and left loops dangling out. Is that just something souls do? she wondered. She ignored it, and worked on the exercise Xipuatl had assigned, which involved trying to connect her soul with the soul of one of his myrvite plants he¡¯d brought in. Mirian was surprised to find the exercise trivial.

    Xipuatl was equally surprised. ¡°That usually takes people a lot longer,¡± he said. ¡°Huh. I guess we can move on to plant healing. I hear it¡¯s a bit different than what the priests do in the hospital, but I have no idea what the priests actually do. Alright, I¡¯m going to tear one of the leaves slightly. The soul reflects the body, and the body the soul, so you should see the energy of the plant disrupted. Like with arcane magic, each person sort of creates their own mental picture of what this looks like, so I can¡¯t tell you exactly what it will look like, only that the place where the wound is will feel different.¡±

    Mirian nodded, and then brought her focus back down to her soul. She was finding it easier and easier to move back and forth between her mental picture of the soul-world, as she thought of it, and the material world. As Xipuatl talked to her, she cast her spiritual gaze out again. Finding the wound took no time at all; as she examined the faint soul of the plant, she could easily see a place that she imagined as full of dark, sparking light that contrasted the smooth, silver lines that wrapped around the rest of it.

    Healing it was considerably more difficult than finding it. It took her eight attempts, with Xipuatl coaching her through how the energy flow should feel. When she was done, she meditated again, and tried to soothe the wild places in her own soul, but to no avail. She left, still wondering what it indicated.

    Jei was busy sorting through the research archive to find the papers on leylines, and Magistrate Ada was interrogating the false captain, Nathanial, again, so Mirian went again to the grove to practice, bringing the wand of levitation with her. She started as usual with her raw magic exercises, trying to suppress that woozy, tired feeling that kept creeping up on her.

    Both the winter chill and the birdsong faded from her mind as she practiced, focusing everything on getting the exercises not just right, but perfect. But the threads of mana were coated in metaphorical grease. At exercise twenty, the frustration overtook her and she stopped. She switched to what she thought of as her arcane power exercise. She brought out the wand of levitation again and channeled, trying not to hold anything back.

    Her aura flared as she rose, and then a wave of nausea hit her. The wand slipped from her fingers. She crashed to the ground in a pile and blacked out.

 Chapter 70 - Limits

    When Mirian woke, it took her a moment to overcome her disorientation. It couldn¡¯t have been more than a few minutes. The wand of levitation was still lying in a patch of dirt where it had rolled. She could tell she¡¯d have a nice handful of bruises. When she stood, her vision briefly narrowed, and the nausea hit her again. She stumbled forward and braced herself against a nearby tree, the tactile sensation of the rough and cold bark grounding her.

    She pocketed the wand, then slowly made her way back to town, occasionally stumbling as she walked.

    What is going on? she wondered. Is it the time loop? Something with whatever is in my soul? She needed to talk to someone about it. But who?

    The most obvious place was the hospital. The priests knew soul magic, even if they called it something else, and more importantly, they knew the soul magic of people, not just of plants like Xipuatl. She made her way there. Something about her must have looked awful enough, because after talking to the desk attendant, she didn¡¯t need to wait long. She met with Cleric Marovim in one of the ritual rooms, a younger man who she¡¯d seen before at the hospital, but never properly met. His dark hair and olive skin marked him as south Baracueli, and both of them were happy to speak Cuelsin. Northern Baracueli rarely bothered to practice the language much, but it was the language she knew better.

    As he pressed his hand to his heart, Mirian was pleased to discover she could feel the faintest signs of him working soul magic. It was much like the subtle tingle she felt at arcane magic, but different. As with arcane magic, it was an entirely different sense that defied easy description, but she thought of it as having a different color.

    Cleric Marovim closed his eyes as he worked, hands hovering over Mirian. After a moment, he opened them. ¡°You have Soul Destabilization Syndrome. Probably the worst case of it I¡¯ve ever seen.¡±

    Mirian wracked her mind, but came up with nothing. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±

    ¡°Your soul is¡­ chaotic. Parts of it are breaking loose. The soul, mind, and body are all linked in the holy triarchy. Disrupting one causes the other two to suffer. This is why healing the soul also heals the body. However, the reverse is true, which explains your symptoms. Frankly, I¡¯m surprised you were able to even walk here.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Mirian, fear gripping her. That sounded bad.

    ¡°There are several causes. One, you have been attacked by a necromancer. They may not have used an actual ¡®curse¡¯ spell, but rather just attacked the soul. I don¡¯t suppose that¡¯s it?¡±

    ¡°Certainly not,¡± Mirian said, though as she said it, her own self-doubt crept in. Were there any necromancers hanging around Torrviol? Had one of them secretly attacked her? It seemed like the sort of thing she would have noticed, though.

    ¡°The next likely cause is the over-consumption of mana potions,¡± Marovim said, and immediately Mirian thought oh shit. The look on her face must have been enough for the cleric, because he said, ¡°Ah. That would be it, then. How many mana potions have you had in the last few days?¡±

    ¡°Two a day. Well, sometimes three, if I¡¯m doing extra practice.¡±

    Marovim¡¯s face went white. ¡°Per day? And how long¡­?¡±

    ¡°Two months.¡± She wasn¡¯t sure how the time loop affected that, and she was sure the cleric didn¡¯t either. ¡°I was only drinking one every few days before that¡­¡±

    ¡°Xylatarvia certainly smiles on you, then. You must have a strong soul. Most people would be dead. Soul-death is¡­ not a pleasant way to die, I have heard.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Mirian again, feeling the floor drop out from under her. Could the time loop even save her from that? It felt like one of those things she shouldn¡¯t try to find out. ¡°It¡¯s A-class mana though, just like what our auras make. Why¡­?¡±

    ¡°I heard of a man once who died from drinking too much water. Everything is dangerous if you have enough of it.¡±

    ¡°Right. Uh, how many mana potions is safe to drink, for future reference? I must have missed the day they talked about it in class¡­.¡±

    ¡°Two per week. Per week,¡± Marovim said, adding raised eyebrows to the emphasis. ¡°Some people tend to do okay with three. Usually, it¡¯s not a problem because no one needs that much mana¡ªor has the money for it. You¡¯ll want to lay off the mana potions for a few months.¡±

    ¡°And can I cast spells? Is that dangerous?¡± Mirian wanted to ask about using soul-magic, but that wasn¡¯t likely to go over well, or get an answer.

    ¡°I would lay off the spellcasting for at least a week.¡±

    Eugh, Mirian thought. That was going to be annoying. ¡°Is there anything you can do to help?¡±

    ¡°Usually, yes. But at this level of destabilization, it would be dangerous to do anything. Sometimes, time is the best healer.¡±

    Mirian thanked him, then went to rest. She¡¯d need it; tomorrow she¡¯d be meeting with Mayor Ethwarn and the militia preparations would begin.

    ***

    Respected Jei was able to get her both the leyline data and access to research on the Divine Monument again, though this time through less legitimate channels. She seemed as surprised as Mirian to learn that mana potions could cause such a problem. ¡°It has never come up before,¡± she said, and seemed to be embarrassed that she hadn¡¯t known.

    After the meeting with the mayor, Mirian spent the rest of the day pouring over the notes with Jei. Her mentor weathered the questions for hours before finally saying, ¡°I will have a headache if we continue. You need your rest as well.¡±

    The next day, Mirian met with Professor Cassius and the newly appointed Captain Moliner to go over Akana¡¯s plan of attack and the defense of Torrviol. This time, she could say with some confidence that the Baracuel Army would arrive on the 25th, well before the Akanan spearhead made it to Torrviol, and could plan for their deployment.

    Barred from magic, including even artifice, Mirian had a great deal of extra time, even with her meetings with the militia and mayor. She went to the Luminate Temple, where Priest Krier had prepared more texts for her to study. No rancorous mob ever made an appearance; whatever had stirred them up, she had clearly headed off. As the Battle of Torrviol neared again, a great deal more eyes now watched the edge of town. Mirian used her new connections in the government to get Valen appointed as an intelligence agent of the militia, so she had her finger on the pulse of more than just the rumors; she could convey to Mirian the official reports of other agents.

    Valen called the operation ¡°shabby¡± and ¡°amateurish,¡± but on Seventhday, after the arrival of the Baracuel Army, a patrol picked up an Akanan agent making a desperate dash for the woods. It was no one Mirian had ever seen or heard of before, but she memorized her name and face. She was one of the transit workers, it turned out. The spies really had insinuated themselves everywhere of any importance.

    In the evenings, Mirian sat down with Nicolus with old Akanan newspapers she¡¯d checked out from the Bainrose archives and talked politics over dinner. To Nurea¡¯s horror, Nicolus would use the pages of newspaper to wipe his hands. ¡°What?¡± he said, with Nurea looked aghast. ¡°They¡¯ll be good as new soon.¡±

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    Firstday, the letter from Nicolus¡¯s uncle finally arrived.

    Mirian met him in the living room where several plush, embroidered couches were positioned to look out the large eastern facing window. Nurea had made up little slices of bread with olive oil, diced olives, and a delicious sharp cheese, and so they ate those while Nicolus read the letter aloud. ¡°Dear Nicolus, I hope this finds you well, blah blah blah, there¡¯s the code phrase that means he really wrote it under his own power. I am in¡ªin hiding? Gods¡¯ blood! Hold on, hold on.¡± Nicolus stopped reading out loud, his eyes rapidly skimming the letter. When he was done, he set it down, leaned back on the couch, and said, ¡°Mirian, you¡¯ve got your work cut out for you stopping this war.¡±

    Mirian groaned. ¡°There¡¯s always more to it, isn¡¯t there?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°The Akanans are saying a Baracueli guy assassinated their Prime Minister. That¡¯s why they declare war.¡±

    Mirian sat upright abruptly. ¡°What!? When?¡±

    ¡°The 21st. He says the war fever is insane. Prime Minister Jondar Kinsman is¡ªwas, I guess¡ªincredibly popular. Five hells. And yeah, there¡¯s magical eruptions there. Now they¡¯re blaming them on Baracuel. Before that, at least one explosion was blamed on a Persaman terrorist group called the¡­ hold on, his handwriting is atrocious. Is that an ¡®a¡¯ or an ¡®o¡¯?¡±

    Nurea, who was in the other room but clearly listening in, called out, ¡°Dawn¡¯s Peace.¡±

    ¡°Dawn¡¯s¡ªyup, that¡¯s the one. Oh, I¡¯ve heard of them. They¡¯re giving the Baracuel Army a hell of a time in Rambalda and Mahatan down south. They¡¯ve sabotaged a bunch of fossilized myrvite mining operations, too.¡± Nicolus tapped his chin thoughtfully. ¡°And if you can¡¯t stop the war¡­ you¡¯d have to get really good at convincing people things via bird. Do you know what happens to our armies down in Persama?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Mirian, head still spinning. ¡°I¡¯m trying to get a handle on one thing at a time. Actually, that¡¯s a lie. I¡¯m trying to learn about the Divine Monument, increase my magical ability, learn soul magic, learn Eskanar, figure out all the ridiculous Akanan machinations going on in Torrviol, and improve my artifice.¡±

    Nicolus laughed. ¡°Fair enough. I thought of a good way to meet, by the way. On the 1st of Solem, I sneak out at night to go sit by the lakeside.¡±

    ¡°What!?¡± Nurea said from the other room.

    ¡°Not a kid anymore!¡± Nicolus called back, and rolled his eyes. ¡°I swear. Anyways, I¡¯m looking for some peace and quiet. There¡¯s the exams coming up, and all this drama with these girls¡ªI think you know Calisto, I won¡¯t bore you with the other two¡ªand my dad had just sent me another letter about some more family property he¡¯s putting me in charge of¡­ and I just need time to think. I don¡¯t know why, but looking out on dark waters soothes me, you know? The spot is north of the docks, just south of the spellward. There¡¯s this little ruin there, a bit overgrown, and it¡¯s perfect. You¡¯re far enough away from the lights that it¡¯s just the moon and the stars on the water.¡± Raising his voice slightly, he said, ¡°And I¡¯ve only been attacked by a bog lion there once.¡±

    Mirian could just make out Nurea grumbling something about how she¡¯d be glad if they ate him.

    ¡°She knows I¡¯m just messing with her,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°So I figure, then you tell me about something from my childhood that I don¡¯t talk to other people about. When I was little, I had an obsession with cows.¡±

    Mirian snorted. ¡°Wait, that¡¯s what you¡¯re going with?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. My dad took me out to the pastures because he wanted me to start bonding with an eximontar¡ªwe have this whole family tradition of riding¡ªbut I was just fascinated by the belted cows. They were black, with this white middle, and the hair was all wavy and curly, and I just couldn¡¯t tear my eyes away. My dad was nearly apoplectic that he couldn¡¯t get me to look at anything else. He picked me up and placed me in the next pasture, but I ran off and ducked under the fence so I could stare at them again.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s hilarious. Why is that the story you don¡¯t tell anyone?¡±

    ¡°Because it¡¯s stupid! Also, my dad later beat it into my head that real men aren¡¯t fascinated by the color patterns of grazing bovines, so when I was a teenager I was totally ashamed of it all. Also, he made me help butcher one of the cows when I was ten. Now I know kids will just latch onto certain things and you can never predict it, and it was just funny, but you know, it¡¯s not the kind of story you tell your drinking buddies. So basically nobody except my dad and two household servants know about it. I was like, four or five, Nurea wasn¡¯t even there.¡±

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°I guess it works then. Kind of an asshole move by your dad.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s usually not that bad. He just had these terrible visions of me refusing to take my role in the family because I was going to go be a farmer and overreacted. Even smart people can be really dumb. Turns out, absolutely no risk of me becoming a farmer, I would die first. Way too much grunt work. What about you? What were you like as a kid?¡±

    Mirian looked out the window, out where the wind was stirring up white caps on the lake. ¡°I had a terrible temper. For the longest time, certain things would set me off and I would just snap and start screaming or fighting. Like when someone would slam a door open, or when another kid took a toy I was playing with. My parents got a specialized cleric to work with me. That¡¯s basically as early as I remember. Not nearly as funny.¡±

    ¡°Any hilarious toddler stories?¡±

    Mirian thought back, letting her eyes wander around the room. There was an old mechanical clock in the corner that neither Nurea or Nicolus had bothered to wind. All the tables were finely carved, with glass ornaments embedded in the swirls of wood. The curtains that were drawn to the side were embroidered with the winged eximontar of the Sacristar family. As her eyes carelessly brushed past these things, her mind found nothing. ¡°My parents never talked about what I was like when I was a toddler,¡± she said. ¡°I had a really bad dream once. I remember the cleric and I talked about that for a long time, and he helped me forget it.¡±

    Nicolus made a face. ¡°Really? A bad dream?¡±

    ¡°I dunno. It¡¯s all fuzzy. I guess I just don¡¯t remember. Any other details in your uncle¡¯s letter I should know about?¡±

    ¡°Not really. He scolds me for not going down to the Palendurio estate with the rest of the family and says I need to get caught up on the rest of the family plan. Only, I don¡¯t know how he thinks that¡¯s going to happen, because the family plan was to move to Akana Praediar. Even illusion magic couldn¡¯t save me, I don¡¯t speak a lick of Eskanar. Oh, and ¡®invest in secondary war industries,¡¯ thanks Uncle Alexus, like I couldn¡¯t figure that one out. Not that the Palamas and Corrmier families would ever allow us to get a controlling stake.¡± He sighed. ¡°Not as helpful as I was hoping. I suppose we¡¯ll have to experiment with phrasing. And if you start our alliance earlier, maybe we can get two letters back and forth.¡±

    Mirian was silent. She¡¯d gone back to looking out at the lake.

    Nicolus looked out with her, tossing the letter onto a nearby side table. He took a deep breath in. ¡°Have we ever¡­ you know¡­?¡±

    ¡°We held hands, as the world ended,¡± Mirian said. ¡°You were¡­ in pain.¡±

    He didn¡¯t say anything to that. The wind had ceased, and the white caps on the lake had faded. They could see patches of light scattered about where there were breaks in the clouds, mixed up with the patches of snow that still remained from the little they¡¯d gotten. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s true that you start to realize what really matters when you don¡¯t have much time left.¡± He looked at Mirian and gave her a sad smile. ¡°In some ways, I envy you. In other ways, I don¡¯t. It all rests on your shoulders, doesn¡¯t it? How much time do you get?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Mirian said. She still wasn¡¯t even sure if she was getting older or not.

    ¡°That¡¯s the normal state of things. No one ever knows how much time they have left, until they do. When they find out, some take it well, some don¡¯t. I should have talked to you years ago. I always had an excuse, though.¡± He shook his head.

    Mirian looked at him. ¡°Wait¡­ really? Am I really that oblivious? You had a crush on me, all this time? But you didn¡¯t even try to learn my name?¡±

    Nicolus sighed. ¡°You can¡¯t really be blamed for missing it, because I hid it. I could list all the reasons I made up in my head. A lot of them were great, really convincing. Like I didn¡¯t want to get you entangled with Calisto¡ªshe can be a real nasty enemy to have¡ªand I didn¡¯t want to ¡®distract¡¯ myself from the path I was going to have to take. My parents want me to marry some rich Akanan. So I thought, why even begin something that has to end? I told myself it would only hurt you, and hells, I didn¡¯t even know you, not really. You were just that smart, cute girl in class.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know what to say.¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t, until you¡¯re ready. For me, it will always be ephemeral. For you, it¡¯ll last for¡­ as long as it lasts. It¡¯s up to you now.¡±

    Mirian swallowed. ¡°That¡¯s not fair,¡± she said, choking slightly on her words.

    ¡°Life never is,¡± Nicolus said.

    ¡°We¡¯ll¡­ talk later,¡± Mirian said, rising abruptly. ¡°I need some time.¡±

    He smiled, though it was a sad smile. ¡°You know where to find me. And for the record¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Mirian left, and wandered about Torrviol. By now, she had minders who had joined her as soon as she left the Sacristar apartment. Together, they inspected the defenses of the town, though Mirian¡¯s mind was fully elsewhere.

    By chance, the clouds had parted so there was a gap in the sky above. She could just make out the faint outlines of the Divir Moon, hanging above them all like a sword.

    In two days, the Battle for Torrviol would begin again.

 Chapter 71 - The Second Battle of Torrviol

    The morning before the battle, Mirian visited Mayor Ethwarn in his office. He hadn¡¯t been meeting there lately, and when she arrived, she could see why. He¡¯d had all of the nice wooden facade torn off, and two artisans and an arcanist were busy putting it back up.

    ¡°What happened with the walls?¡± Mirian asked.

    Magistrate Ada paused glancing through her papers and said, ¡°The previous assistant had a magical listening device. It was linked to a bunch of hidden glyphs in the office. We wanted to make sure we removed them all, just in case.¡±

    Mirian thought back to the assistant hastily stuffing something away into his desk last cycle. ¡°That explains quite a bit. Where did you end up finding the hidden glyphs?¡±

    The arcanist paused his work to show her. Mirian closed her eyes and thought of the Ominian¡¯s throne room so she would better remember the exact spots.

    ¡°Is that head spy talking yet?¡± Mayor Ethwarn asked.

    ¡°The false captain? No. But the Department of Public Security finally responded. There is supposed to be a unit here. Actually, they were insisting it was up here, in contact with me, and that they¡¯d been receiving the regular reports with no interruption, so I must have been mistaken. It took quite a bit of hammering to get through that particular bureaucratic wall.¡±

    ¡°They do know there¡¯s about to be a war on, right?¡± Mayor Ethwarn sighed. ¡°Government,¡± he said, shaking his head. Mirian wasn¡¯t sure if he had fully internalized that he was also part of the government now. Magistrate Ada didn¡¯t say anything.

    ¡°How goes the evacuation?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°Well enough. You were right about the banebriars to the south, of course, but evacuating across the lake is much easier. The palisade is already up, and while it¡¯s no spellward barrier, it has enough enchantments on it to do the job. Boats are already moving people across the lake. Most of the civilians should be in the clear by evening. General Hanaran is quite pleased too, because it means no one¡¯s hassling her about the train, and it gives her more flexibility for her defense.¡±

    ¡°And the passages?¡±

    ¡°Construction teams finished blocking them off yesterday. The arcanists have scattered explosive traps around too. The people of Torrviol are resilient,¡± the mayor beamed proudly. ¡°Those damn traitors will pay.¡±

    ***

    This time, Mirian had warned General Hanaran that Bainrose was the enemy¡¯s primary objective and could give her a general idea of how the battle had progressed. How much of the strategy the Akanans used was contingent on what their spies delivered, she would have to find out.

    Mirian took her position up on one of the towers of Bainrose again. Nicolus, Lily, and Xipuatl all stood with her. Nurea had gone across the lake with the other refugees; she had no idea what Nicolus had said to her for that to happen. Valen had opted again to fight with the militia. When she looked at her friends standing with her, it was with a mix of joy and grief. Joy, because they were here with her. Grief, because she would watch them die again. How many times would she watch that? The sting had lessened, but would she ever be numb to it? Would I ever want to be numb to it?

    She cast those thoughts aside, and focused on the task at hand. She needed to remember the changes, and remember the battle. For now, they would die, so that in some distant future, they might live. Mirian blinked away her tears, and swallowed her sorrow.

    This time, Hanaran had deployed several of her regiments two miles outside the spellward to hit the Akanan column before it was deployed. They would try to periodically hit the enemy as they fell back, partially to delay them, but mostly to make them spend blood and ammunition on something that wasn¡¯t the primary defenses. The forest was perfect for covering the operation. The dense foliage blocked them from the sight of the airships, while trunks and roots slowed any advance to prevent encirclement. Torrviol arcanists had also worked to carve out trenches and fell some of the large trees to slow the battle wagons and artillery further.

    This time, the fighting started a few hours earlier. The deep rumble of distant guns first told them of the engagement. Periodically, the Baracueli scouts would send up three flares of light in a row, the color combination informing the watchers from Torrviol what the Akanans were doing. That was further supported by arcane eye spells all across the developing front.

    Hanaran had paired Mirian with an observer on the tower, so that as they magically communicated with command below, she would also learn it. Red, blue, and red flares went up in the distant forest, followed by red, green and red. ¡°The Akanan advance has halted again in the center, but is continuing in the north. Another attempt at an encirclement,¡± the observer said. Ten minutes later, it was a red, white, and red flare, almost directly west of them, past the shallow hills the dorms were on. ¡°One of their divisions has broken off the main group and is deploying along that path. The western line can expect contact with the enemy soon.¡±

    By the time night fell, General Hanaran had pulled all her forward units back, and the artillery on both sides was thundering out. The two airships had taken several aggressive approaches throughout the evening, but several hits to their hulls had taught them caution. Mirian got a sense that the Akanans had a much worse idea of Baracuel¡¯s force disposition, but they had by no means come in blind. More spies to find, she noted.

    Two hours after midnight, the artillery barrage intensified. It felt more like a storm than a battle, with bright spells flaring across the front. Blossoming flames and jagged lightning crisscrossed the battlefield. Here and there, screams echoed up to them.

    ¡°Is it always like this?¡± Nicolus asked. He had grown sullen as the battle progressed.

    ¡°No. Usually it¡¯s a one-sided massacre. This is¡­¡± What did she say to that? Better? It was still horrific. But if the war couldn¡¯t be prevented, what else was there to do but fight? ¡°¡­it¡¯s usually worse.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve always thought that if people were logical, we¡¯d all never fight a war again. My dad always told me I was being naive. My mom always told me the realities of war would change my mind.¡± Nicolus shook his head. ¡°But I was right.¡±

    Mirian watched as another artillery barrage crashed down on the eastern line, sending up gouts of flame where she knew soldiers had just been. The Baracueli artillery responded a moment later, and near the tree-line wind and lightning swirled about from a storm-shell. Above, the airships loomed above them like colossal vultures circling a corpse. The rooftop artillery had them hanging back, but little by little those guns were being knocked out.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian said. ¡°So we just do the best we can with the hand we¡¯re dealt. Maybe someday,¡± she said.

    Nicolus raised an imaginary mug to the sky. ¡°To someday!¡± he said, and quaffed the nothing with gusto.

    Off to the east, the dormitories were on fire again, the roiling black clouds blending into the scattered low clouds. An Akanan battle-wagon moved to the north, only to erupt in flames as the Torrviol guns opened up on it. Then the first earthshaker shell hit the northeast tower of Bainrose.

    ¡°Airships are coming in for another sortie,¡± the observer said. ¡°Right at us. Everyone below!¡±

    By the time they made it to the ground level, Bainrose Castle was shaking violently. Parts of the vaulted ceiling and chunks of the wall rained down, and the soldiers had to shout to be heard as the tremendous roar of explosions came again and again.

    ¡°General, the castle can¡¯t take much more bombardment,¡± one of the officers called to Hanaran. ¡°They¡¯ve been able to maneuver too many artillery pieces into position. We¡¯re getting hit all across the defensive arc.¡±

    Just then, a messenger came up from the stairs. ¡°Captain Cassius says our position will be overrun soon. Enemy geomancers have opened up holes all along the basement on two floors. We either need reinforcements immediately, or to order the withdrawal before we¡¯re penned in!¡±

    Hanaran nodded, but whatever she said next was lost to the sound of another bombardment. A huge chunk of stone fell from the ceiling, then froze in mid-flight as two sorcerers caught it with a force spell and gently redirected it to an empty spot.

    ¡°Sir?¡±

    ¡°I said give the order!¡± Hanaran shouted. To Mirian, she asked, ¡°What happens next?¡±

    ¡°Something happens to the Divine Monument,¡± she said. ¡°I intend to find out what. I¡¯ll see you again. We¡¯ll do better next time.¡±

    Hanaran shook her head. ¡°You really believe it, don¡¯t you? Shiamagoth save us. Alright, let¡¯s go. Let¡¯s go!¡±

    As the General and her staff evacuated, Mirian turned to her friends. ¡°I¡¯m heading down. Do you want to come?¡±

    Lily shook her head. ¡°I¡¯d rather go. I don¡¯t want to be¡­ trapped down there.¡± She shivered.

    Nicolus shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ll come. Might as well.¡±

    Xipuatl looked between the two. ¡°I suppose I will too,¡± he said.

    Jei didn¡¯t say anything, but Mirian already knew what her decision was. As they made their way to the outer part of the tower, a soldier warned them off, telling them the third floor had collapsed.

    Mirian let out a curse. ¡°That blocks the passage. We need to go to Griffin Hall.¡±

    Jei shook her head. ¡°Too dangerous. And there¡¯s likely Akanans in the underground. The inner staircase is behind here,¡± she said, pointing at the stone wall. ¡°Move back.¡± She pulled out her orb. It hovered above her right hand, glowing, as she extended her left towards the wall.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Mirian felt the pulses of magic before she saw the effect. Cracks ran through the stone wall, but it wasn¡¯t mere force Jei was applying. The composition of the rock changed, from the hardy looking gray stone to something crumbly and pale. When Jei finally did pull it apart with force walls, the stone fell apart without much resistance, and became a pile of dust off to the side.

    Xipuatl said something in Tlaxa, then followed it up with, ¡°There¡¯s no way the general arcane theory has incorporated that into its framework. Mirian¡­¡±

    Bainrose shook again, kicking up a cloud of the dusty rock. ¡°Now isn¡¯t quite the time. I promise, I¡¯ll look into it.¡±

    They filed through the hole in the wall and started descending the hidden staircase. The bombardment had dislodged a support stone midway down the stairs, and they had to duck under a partially collapsed arch.

    As they passed through the storage room, they could hear the muted sound of gunfire, coming perhaps from behind the secret door, or maybe echoing through the partially collapsed tunnels nearby. Bits of debris kept coming loose from the ceiling. Mirian prayed they wouldn¡¯t get trapped by a collapse and slowly suffocate.

    Close to the lower passages, the sounds of a pitched battle grew. As they descended another of the stairs, they practically ran into a Baracuel army unit in the dim light. ¡°Gods, you scared the shit out of us,¡± one of the soldiers said. ¡°Are you¡­ militia? Reinforcements? The enemy arcanists are trying to open up a tunnel between the catacombs and this spot. We can¡¯t hold them much longer.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s mouth grew dry. ¡°Bainrose is being evacuated,¡± she said. ¡°General Hanaran just gave the order.¡± The colored bands on their arms and their Academy dress already indicated their status as militia.

    ¡°What? Shit!¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a passage opened up on the first floor,¡± Mirian told them. ¡°I don¡¯t know how much longer the castle will hold.¡±

    ¡°Sir,¡± another of the soldiers said. ¡°Our orders were to hold, even if the castle was evacuated. Our fallback position is still clear. Until then, we need to prevent the rest of the army from being overrun.¡± Several of the other arcanists looked up from their work. Based on the pages of the spellbooks Mirian could see, they were casting remote earthshaping magic and divination.

    The first soldier looked up the way Mirian¡¯s group had come, then back toward the wall. ¡°If we stay here, we¡¯re dead,¡± he said. ¡°I can¡¯t believe the captain meant to assign us a suicide mission.¡±

    ¡°But it¡¯s insubordination. Even if we lose the surface, the passages aren¡¯t cut off¡ª¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation, it doesn¡¯t matter much what you do next. No one survives this battle.¡±

    The first soldier stared at her. ¡°What in the five hells do you know?¡±

    ¡°Never mind,¡± Mirian said. ¡°We¡¯ve been ordered to secure the lower door. Good luck. Let¡¯s go,¡± she told the group. Another of the battlemages whispered something to another as they passed, while a third gave her a suspicious look.

    Fortunately, Jei had the key to the final door guarding the Divine Monument. When she opened it though, a bolt of force nearly skewered her; she raised a shield just in time.

    ¡°Medius, you fool!¡± she snapped.

    Medius Luspire stood before the Divine Monument, a harrowed look on his face. ¡°Those bastards are shaking apart my Academy. You¡¯ll forgive me for being twitchy,¡± he shot back.

    ¡°Should I have knocked?¡± Jei spat.

    ¡°Never mind,¡± the archmage said. ¡°You¡¯ve seen what those Akanan quislings brought. This is our last hope,¡± he said, turning to face the Monument.

    Something had broken in Luspire. He strode around the room with a careless bravado, examining parts of the Monument before activating spell engines with the flick of his hand. High Wizard Ferrandus and two assistant arcanists were moving above, checking readouts and adjusting knobs in a flurry of activity that was meaningless to Mirian. The only thing she wondered was: does he get it to work?

    Archmage Luspire turned back to Jei and said, ¡°Well don¡¯t just stand there! We¡¯re so close to turning it on. We¡¯ve got the resonance topography of each rune, and we¡¯ve tracked the energy cascade. All we¡¯re missing is¡­ damn it all to hell! What are we missing?¡±

    He didn¡¯t seem to expect Jei to answer, or to care much that she and Mirian had brought others, though he did cast Mirian a withering glance before resuming his pacing around the structure.

    Xipuatl gazed at the colossal machine with awe. ¡°This is¡­¡± He started to mutter to himself in Tlaxa, then trailed off entirely.

    Nicolus didn¡¯t say anything, just stared up at it.

    Mirian could appreciate their stunned silence. The way the surreal colors shifted subtly in the light, the way the entire thing shifted as one moved¡ªit was truly amazing.

    Down here, the bombardment wasn¡¯t so bad. Something about the room seemed to keep the worst of the shaking at bay, though they could still feel the periodic tremors.

    Luspire stopped striding about, then raised his hand and cast a spell directly into one of the device¡¯s features. The hairs on Mirian¡¯s arms stood up as she felt the surge of arcane energy from the archmage. Even without a measuring device, she could tell the power he was putting out dwarfed anything even ten students could muster. For a moment, energy crackled along one of the twisted spines of the device. There was a whirring sound, and something in the device shifted. Mirian¡¯s heart beat faster with anticipation. Did they figure it out?

    Then the energy faded, and the device settled again.

    Whatever Luspire had just tried, it clearly had been his last idea. He sat down hard in a nearby chair. Ferrandus looked at him, then powered down the spell engine he¡¯d been operating. The assistant arcanists looked equally sullen.

    ¡°What happens next?¡± Nicolus whispered.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Mirian said. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here.¡± Nicolus looked at her, and she could tell he was thinking about what he¡¯d said, and wondered if she had a response yet. He was too much of a gentleman to say anything, though.

    Mirian circled around the Monument, getting a sense of the pattern in how it changed. ¡°The way it reflects light¡­ and the texture of it. Xipuatl, doesn¡¯t it remind you of your relic?¡±

    ¡°Reliquary,¡± he said. ¡°And yes.¡±

    ¡°Isn¡¯t a reliquary a container?¡±

    Xipuatl thought about that. ¡°¡­yes? That¡¯s the translation. I mean, the literal translation is ¡®container of holy of Elder-Gods,¡¯ but that¡¯s a bit of an ungrammatical mouthful in Friian. I¡¯ve always heard ¡®container of holy¡¯ translated as ¡®reliquary.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Mirian said absentmindedly. ¡°But maybe that¡¯s the missing half of the equation. What if it needs soul magic to work?¡±

    A muffled explosion echoed through the chambers, snapping Mirian¡¯s attention out of her thoughts. She looked for the source of the sound. Xipuatl pointed it out to her. ¡°Look,¡± he said.

    The colossal door on the far side of the chamber now had cracks running through it. Another explosion sounded, this one louder, and the cracks splayed out farther, forming a jagged web.

    ¡°Damn. Damn!¡± Luspire shouted, and rose to stand in front of the doors of stone. He started casting some form of force-spell to brace the door.

    Respected Jei went to stand by him, her orb hovering over her hand. It glowed brightly as she worked to repair the door, the very rock recrystallizing itself through her magic.

    It wasn¡¯t enough. Five more explosions came in rapid succession, and the stone cracked apart completely. Archmage Luspire let it fall. His spellbook hovered in front of him, glowing, and Mirian could see his fingers twitching.

    The dust never got a chance to settle; one of the Akanan arcanists on the other side of the door swept it aside. Standing in the adjoining room were some three dozen spellcasters, the Akanan blue and white marred by grime and blood splatters. Heading the group was a woman Mirian recognized, not just by her peaked cap or the gold-embroidered jacket, but by her cruel stare. Her gaggle of assistants were behind her too.

    ¡°Emera Cearsia, you rat,¡± Archmage Luspire snapped. ¡°I would have thought you of all people had more character than to lead this band of traitors. What happened to fidelity and friendship?¡±

    That¡¯s interesting. He knows her.

    Marshal Cearsia¡¯s scowl deepened. ¡°And yet here you are, standing by the very instrument of your betrayal.¡±

    ¡°As you can see, it doesn¡¯t bloody work. And if it did work like you think it does, do you really think I wouldn¡¯t be using it to scour your little band of vermin off the face of Enteria? Nevertheless, I recognize my position. Give us all safe passage, and its yours.¡±

    Silence fell on the room, then. The eyes of all the Akanans were on the archmage¡ªexcept one, Mirian realized. One of Cearsia¡¯s assistants was staring at her, even though she and her friends were partially obscured by the Monument and taking no action. When he realized she saw him, he looked back toward the archmage.

    Cearsia¡¯s spellbook rose from her belt to hover before her. None of the Akanan arcanists lowered their wands.

    Luspire understood the answer he¡¯d been given. ¡°So be it,¡± he said.

    When Luspire began channeling, Mirian could feel it clear across the room. When Marshal Cearsia started, the sensation was similar. If she wasn¡¯t an actual archmage, she was damned close.

    Mirian had heard that Luspire fought with fire, but fire was an understatement. He sent out scattered beams of coruscating light, then followed it up with a flurry of fireballs. The heat was intense enough Mirian felt like her skin had just been sunburned, even though the Monument was between them and all the energy had been directed forward towards the Akanans.

    The problem was, Luspire wasn¡¯t fighting just any group of arcanists. He was fighting the Akanan elite. As soon as he¡¯d started channeling, they¡¯d raised dozens of overlapping shields that shimmered with blue light. Though near the edge of the formation, two of the sorcerers were screaming from the fire that had pierced their shields, the rest of the company had weathered the attack.

    Cearsia led the counter-attack, responding with a spell that created writhing force chains that spat out blue flames. They smashed into a prismatic shield Luspire had erected. Jei¡¯s hasty shield shattered instantly, and she was sent flying headfirst into a wall. Mirian winced at the impact, and the unnatural angle that her neck was bent at.

    Ferrandus and the assistants joined in, with Ferrandus unleashing magnetic pulses that crushed several soldiers in their own armor before he was put on the defensive by torrents of lightning pouring from the enemy sorcerers. As the Akanan sorcerers came at the wizard with different spells, it was all he could do to maintain his defensive shields.

    ¡°Shit!¡± Nicolus shouted over the fray. ¡°What do we do?¡±

    Fire continued to spill from Luspire, coming out in waves like a burning heartbeat. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Mirian said. ¡°There¡¯s no winning this.¡±

    For all Luspire¡¯s power, it wasn¡¯t close. For every spell he unleashed, there were a dozen spellcasters to shield against it, and a dozen more to hammer him with their own. His prismatic shield was the only thing that prevented him from instantly dying; Ferrandus and the assistants died within seconds as blades of force and crackling lightning finished overwhelming them, smearing them into bloody paste across the ground. For a moment, the chamber crackled like a thundercloud; bright lightning, burning force chains, and pulses of flame ricocheted off shields, spread across the room like a grasping hand, and the ground shook.

    Then it was over. Archmage Luspire¡¯s shield cracked apart in a brilliant chromatic burst and he was smothered by fire and lightning. His charred body remained upright for a heartbeat, then fell to the floor, cracking apart like charcoal.

    The spellcasting stopped, and Marshal Cearsia¡¯s commanding voice called out, ¡°Secure the area, bring down the explosives. Set them at each¡­ hells, why does it keep moving? Just encircle the damn thing with them.¡±

    ¡°Marshal,¡± said one of her assistants, the brown haired one, the same one that had been staring at Mirian. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we seize it? If we could turn it against Baracuel¡ª¡±

    ¡°If I have to write you up for insubordination one more time, I¡¯m just going to have you shot,¡± Cearsia told him. ¡°Follow your orders.¡±

    He looked at Mirian and her friends. ¡°Very well. And what should we do with the students?¡±

    The marshal turned and started walking away. ¡°Put the animals out of their misery.¡±

    The man looked at them, then looked to the soldiers nearby and nodded.

    ¡°What did he say?¡± Nicolus asked.

    Mirian turned to her friends. ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon,¡± she said. She stepped forward so they¡¯d kill her first, and closed her eyes so she wouldn¡¯t see the force-blades as they entered her.

 Chapter 72 - Steering the Ship

    When she killed the first spy for the third time, Mirian felt like a puppeteer, controlling her own body, but separate from it. She pulled her own strings, yanking on panic here and fear there, then made herself feel dejected to fit the part. She didn¡¯t need to fake it much. She really did feel terrible killing the man. Playing the deceitful role made her feel like she had a layer of grime about her.

    In the gardens, when she had a chance to rest, she meditated, and examined her soul. It was harder to see the details without the Elder reliquary, but she could see enough. Pieces of it were still frayed like threads sticking out, though the worst of the damage had faded.

    Then it must be my soul traveling back. It was the only part of her that didn¡¯t reset. And the body and mind are reflections of the soul.

    That night, she was exhausted, but she trudged her way over to Torrviol Lake all the same. The trail to the ruin was overgrown, and Mirian stumbled twice making her way through the tall grass and half-sunken paving stones. At some point, this had been a road. She wondered where it had once led to.

    Sure enough, there was a ruined building just south of the spellward and by the lakeside. It seemed to have once been a two-story affair, but most of the bottom half had sunk into the mud, and the roof had long since vanished. Vines and moss covered most of the walls, while the grass and shrubs nestled by it were slowly cracking apart the base; maybe in another century, they¡¯d be done. The eastern wall had already collapsed into the lake, where waves gently lapped at it.

    The second story walls were intact enough to block the view of the inside, so it was only as she was climbing up the last part of the slope of rubble that she actually saw Nicolus. It was dark enough he was practically a shadow, sitting with his knees tucked in, apparently oblivious to Mirian¡¯s approach until she said, ¡°Hey.¡±

    ¡°Carkavakom¡¯s balls!¡± Nicolus said, startling. ¡°Five hells, bit late to be sneaking up on people, isn¡¯t it? Do I know you? And how¡¯d you know I¡¯d be up here?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, thought I¡¯d been noisy enough you¡¯d hear me. To answer your questions, Mirian Castrella, time traveler,¡± she said, holding out a hand. ¡°We died a few hours ago, so I get to do this again. You¡¯ll never remember it, but we made a deal.¡±

    Nicolus tentatively shook her hand. ¡°Did I, now? Then I suppose you know what I¡¯m going to ask.¡±

    ¡°Not exactly, every cycle is different. But, yeah, sort of. You told me the cow story.¡±

    Nicolus¡¯s voice turned incredulous. ¡°I told you the cow story?¡± Muttering, he said, ¡°Why would I tell you the¡­ listen, can you send messages to the other me, and tell him he¡¯s an idiot?¡±

    Mirian laughed.

    ¡°I do know you,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re¡­¡±

    ¡°¡­that girl you¡¯ve had a crush on, but never talked to.¡±

    Nicolus grimaced. ¡°Gods, I hope this isn¡¯t Calisto¡¯s idea of a joke.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Mirian said, sitting next to him, and then she explained. Nicolus sat quietly for most of it; maybe the tranquility of the dark waters calmed the part of the brain that felt the need to always crack jokes. When she was done, she fell as silent as the waters.

    ¡°Shit,¡± he said, and then he sat there, looking at her. Finally, he said, ¡°If I¡¯m a fool for believing you, I guess I¡¯m a fool.¡±

    Mirian smiled. ¡°Good to have you back on board. Now, I¡¯ve been thinking about what we can ask your uncle¡­¡±

    ***

    On Firstday, Mirian managed to harangue the guards into raiding the spy¡¯s headquarters before they could burn. Even with them on the lookout for traps and triggering glyphs, they missed something, because they were evacuating the building a few minutes later, several of them swearing, one of them singed by flames. Mirian watched the building burn and felt her resolve harden. Later, she¡¯d need to get more details about the traps and layout in there from the guards. Whatever secrets the Akanans had hidden would see daylight, eventually.

    ***

    With Nicolus recruited early, Mirian also worked to better incorporate Xipuatl into her little alliance sooner. Unlike Nicolus and Jei, he didn¡¯t think some story from his childhood would do much good. ¡°Then I¡¯d just think you were creepy, and were part of a spy group trying to get leverage on the Yanez family,¡± he explained, once Mirian had gotten him on board.

    It didn¡¯t matter much. With Nicolus helping convince him, it didn¡¯t take long. Soon enough, she was back to studying soul-magic. She was pleased to see the frayed pieces of her soul had healed. The only thing that still remained was that strange hole inside her, filled by something invisible. She bothered Xipuatl to start teaching her more about the celestial runes. They were key to his unified arcane theory, but now that she suspected they also were connected to the Divine Monument, it wasn¡¯t just curiosity or convenience motivating her.

    Talking to Professor Seneca about mana potions turned out to be extremely useful, once she got past the ¡°Wait, you didn¡¯t know that? I covered that in my 202 class!¡± part.

    Mirian, embarrassed, claimed she must have been sick that day, though in truth, she had no recollection. What Seneca did have was knowledge of dozens of studies concerning mana elixirs and auric mana, as well as a recent one she¡¯d worked on for the Academy. It didn¡¯t take long for them to come up with a reasonable estimate as to how many elixirs she could safely take. Despite the priest¡¯s warning, Mirian landed on four per week. And, unlike most arcanists, she could actively monitor her soul for abnormalities, now that she knew the fraying threads indicated a problem.

    Saving Idras and the other spy was easier now that she could simply show Magistrate Ada (and a flustered Mayor Wolden) the magical listening glyphs hidden in his room. The fourth spy made a run for it as Mirian unveiled the glyphs, but Mirian had prepared Bertrus to be on the lookout for that, so he didn¡¯t get far.

    When it came time to interrogate Idras, Mirian tried to practice her Eskanar. The second spy seemed to know about thirty words in Friian, so learning more Eskanar would let her talk to him. Unlike Idras, he stayed as silent as the false-captain Mandez when he was caught. But if she could get him to talk, maybe she¡¯d discover something new. She also had a feeling she wasn¡¯t going to really figure out all the insane things going on without going to Akana Praediar, so learning Eskanar seemed an inevitable necessity. However, she quickly realized a few hours per cycle of conversation wouldn¡¯t do much to teach her anything, so she had Nicolus help find her a language tutor.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    Speaking Eskanar reminded her of Selesia. She hoped she was doing well, but couldn¡¯t bring herself to recruit her into her little band of allies. It felt¡­ selfish.

    Mirian found her way back to the Luminate Temple, too. Again, Priest Krier seemed quite happy to help, and was content to wait on the Grand Sanctum¡¯s verdict before he passed any judgment. Mirian also pressed Magistrate Ada to annoy the Department of Public Security earlier. If they sent someone up earlier, maybe she could make some connections and start to figure out why the Deeps thought they had an entire unit in Torrviol when they had, apparently, no one.

    It all kept her incredibly busy. Far too busy to reflect, or to think too hard about the impossible task before her. That was for the best, she thought. She still didn¡¯t know how many chances she got, but if the last one came and she had wasted time wallowing in self-pity, she would never be able to forgive herself.

    ***

    Archmage Luspire and High Wizard Ferrandus sat across from Mirian again. As Mirian described Luspire¡¯s combat spells to him, he kept his jaw firmly clenched.

    ¡°¡­and you and Marshal Cearsia know each other,¡± Mirian finished.

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough,¡± Luspire snapped. ¡°We¡¯re done here.¡± He stood.

    That made Mirian give Jei a confused glance.

    ¡°Why did you agree to the meeting?¡± Jei asked.

    ¡°You know very well why.¡± To Mirian, he said, ¡°I don¡¯t know how you infiltrated my quarters, but¡ª¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t infiltrate anything. How would I?¡±

    The archmage glared at her, clearly not happy about being interrupted by an inferior. ¡°As I said, we¡¯re done. See her out.¡±

    Everyone reacted differently to being bombarded by their own secrets. Luspire obviously hated it. His cape caught a subtle cross-wind as he strode away, and he didn¡¯t look back. Ferrandus nodded towards the door, and Mirian went.

    When she talked it over with Nicolus later that evening, he said, ¡°Oh, he¡¯s got control-brain.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°People with power think differently than normal people. Luspire is used to being in control of everything. Everyone around him is constantly showing him excessive respect. Then you barge in there and screw up his self-image, and prove to him there¡¯s this huge thing that he¡¯s powerless over. He has a big emotional reaction, and you can¡¯t overcome that with anything you say. Retroactively, he¡¯ll justify it, because he¡¯s smart enough to think of something. You know, there¡¯s some really great books in my library about how people think¡ª¡±

    Mirian waved him away. ¡°Gods, I¡¯m reading enough right now. Jei has these three volumes on glyph-phrases, and Professor Torres keeps handing me tomes on artifice, and the worst part is, she¡¯s still finding ones I haven¡¯t read. That¡¯s on top of the military books I got so that I know what the hell everyone¡¯s talking about when they talk about ¡®flanking¡¯ ¡®fronts¡¯ and ¡®spearheads.¡¯ So, if Luspire won¡¯t listen, how do I¡­ what do I do?¡±

    ¡°You read the books I was recommending, since they¡¯re obviously better. Nah, whatever, I can summarize. Basically, you need to find a way to prove your point, but in a way that doesn¡¯t get him all defensive. You have to be subtle. Make him think he¡¯s clever. Make him think there¡¯s some way he can control you. Play to his pride.¡±

    ¡°And how do I do that?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got time, right? Figure out more about him in one cycle, then use that in subsequent cycles. Get him to open up a little bit. It¡¯s called establishing rapport, you want to quickly find connections and bond with people. That¡¯s what people with charisma naturally do, but it can be learned.¡±

    ¡°Just ¡®establish rapport.¡¯ The man is like a magnet that only repels. How, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Well there¡¯s this book I can recommend¡­¡±

    Mirian gave an over-dramatic sigh. ¡°I¡¯ll get around to it, eventually.¡± That, and several thousand other things.

    ***

    Previously, Mirian had paid close attention to the surface battle. This cycle, she focused more on the developments underground. Torrviol was too honeycombed with passages for blockading them to do much but give the geomancers more work, and it was clear the Akanans had a complete map of the underground so they were able to quickly adapt. Teaching Jei¡¯s recrystallization spells to the militia and army was a non-starter; the glyph sequences were ones no one but Jei was used to, and the inks they needed to scribe the spells would need to be mixed from ingredients they hardly had any of.

    As preparations for the battle began, she helped Cassius and Moliner plan their part of the defense.

    It failed utterly. Mirian had envisioned employing clever attacks, withdrawals, and flanking maneuvers to repeatedly ambush the Akanans, giving and then retaking passages so that the underground assault was either delayed or pushed back entirely. However, the books on tactics hadn¡¯t quite prepared her for the realities of battle. There were communication breakdowns, messengers who got lost, unexpected setbacks, and tunnels that collapsed, none of which she¡¯d planned for. Underground fighting was also not something the Baracuel Army trained for, while the Akanans had clearly trained in exactly that.

    Just how long have they been planning this war? she wondered. And how can they pretend we started it when they¡¯re the ones who have been preparing for it?

    It didn¡¯t help that in the later stages of the attack, Marshal Cearsia and her elite company left the airships and personally led the charge. Archmage Luspire could not be convinced to leave the Monument and help the defense. He was far too stubborn to listen to anyone else.

    Bainrose fell again. Respected Jei managed to cast a hidden watcher spell that the Akanans weren¡¯t familiar with in the Monument chamber before they fled to one of the last evacuation boats, and confirmed that Cearsia personally oversaw the bombs being laid out. That was expected. What wasn¡¯t was when Jei said, ¡°One of her assistants just attacked her. It seems he wanted to stop the detonation. She killed him very fast, though.¡±

    ¡°One of¡­ does the assistant have brown hair, perhaps?¡±

    Jei frowned. ¡°Ah, they found the spell. I think he did. Lanky, a bit short. Turned into a pile of ash before they dispelled my watcher. Is it important?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I¡¯ve noticed there¡¯s some things that seem to happen no matter what. Mayor Ethwarn, for example, gets elected even if dozens of things have changed. Professor Viridian, on the other hand, needs only the tiniest change and he¡¯ll give a totally different lecture the next day. Some people are more¡­ spontaneous?¡±

    ¡°Selkus never did plan his lectures in advance. He advised, ¡®go with what feels right.¡¯ Iliyia advised the opposite. Perhaps it is a difference in thought patterns.¡±

    ¡°Probably. But then it ends up meaning there¡¯s people that are damn near impossible to predict the actions of. Which can be bad, if I need a certain outcome, but I guess it¡¯s good if I need something big to change.¡± She looked back at Torrviol. The whole town was burning, and the western half of the sky was blotted out by smoke. ¡°It¡¯s like trying to steer a ship with a twig, though. I can sometimes get it to start moving in a different direction, but there¡¯s so many things I can¡¯t control.¡±

    The boat they were on shook as a massive explosion erupted from the plaza in front of Bainrose, cutting the conversation short.

    Jei looked back, eyes widening as the light burst forth, and then they were both momentarily blinded by the raw magic spewing into the sky.

    ¡°That¡¯s it, then,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Thanks for everything.¡± She gave Jei a hug. Jei froze up, then awkwardly patted her on the back as their vision returned.

    When the leyline erupted, being halfway across the lake didn¡¯t matter much. Then land split apart, and Mirian watched the brilliant rays of chromatic light shining out, like on the other side of the fissures was a second sun, and then the final eruption incinerated them both in a second.

 Chapter 73 - Repetition

    Five loops later, Mirian had grown frustrated with the start of the cycle. It seemed no matter what she did, the spy¡¯s headquarters caught on fire. Idras was still forthcoming if his life was saved from assassination, but only to an extent. He seemed conveniently forgetful from time to time, and claimed to have no knowledge of how the security measures in the Akanan headquarters actually worked.

    Mirian was sure there had to be some sort of glyph-phrase the spies carried on them that disabled the traps, but though the spies had been thoroughly searched, neither she nor the magistrate could find anything. The spy¡¯s clothes had been torn apart, looking for glyphs woven into the lining, their boots ripped open to see if the glyphs were in the soles, and an arcanist had gone over both the items and the people with dozens of divination spells.

    Divination spells of the headquarters themselves uncovered several traps, and Torres had helped Mirian figure out a way to remotely disable the spell-engine that was responsible for the first few blazes.

    But there was a backup trap, and while the fire it started was smaller, it was targeted in a room full of papers and safes where all the critical documents clearly were.

    Mirian consulted with several professors both about divination spells she could try and how anti-divination wards worked. Despite her advancement in the subschool, she could detect nothing she hadn¡¯t found already. And yet, the headquarters always burned. Raiding it early just meant they tripped some sort of trap. Waiting so they could analyze it further didn¡¯t work; someone was still triggering the immolation mechanism, and in a way that neither she nor the Torrviol guard couldn¡¯t detect.

    She was starting to become convinced there was still a spy on the guard, but Magistrate Ada¡¯s background checks came up with nothing concrete, and the guards always covered for each other. Valen had some helpful tips, but it wasn¡¯t exactly something she could crack open. She was there for gathering rumors and keeping Mirian¡¯s ego in check.

    Archmage Luspire proved equally as frustrating. The problem was he was a man who was used to people trying to manipulate him. Of course he was; he was a Gods-damned archmage, and everyone wanted him for something. Mirian had never been good at manipulating people in the first place, and the mindset that Nicolus¡¯s weird books wanted her to adopt was antithetical to her usual way of thinking. She usually ended up pissing him off, which made getting access to the Divine Monument harder, not that she thought she was going to make much headway there. Even Respected Jei was struggling with the sheer length of the glyph-phrases that they¡¯d deduced the device was using. Dozens of expert wizards had spent years on figuring it out, and Mirian was still essentially an apprentice. Still, she studied what they had discovered as best she could.

    In the battle, things were going better. With now nine spies either dead or captured almost immediately in the cycle and the ruined spire they¡¯d been using to send zephyr falcons put under guard, the Akanans no longer could know Baracuel¡¯s exact disposition and strategy before the battle even began. By now, she could help Torrviol hold out until midday of the 1st of Duala. Then, the same supply issues that were plaguing the Akanans started impeding the Baracuel Army¡¯s effectiveness. While ammunition could run out, the battle magi and sorcerers simply recovered their mana, and then the enemy still had their four to one advantage. When Akana Praediar launched their midday assault, it came all at once, and it seemed unstoppable.

    But even that delay had taught her something important: the leyline eruption didn¡¯t occur until the Divine Monument was destroyed. What that implied about the rest of the magical catastrophe that swept across Baracuel and ended with the moon falling, she didn¡¯t know. Her focus was here, and here, she could start to make a difference. Mirian began to hope that maybe winning the battle here did stop the moon.

    It was that hope carrying her now. She still dreaded dying. It never stopped hurting. Nor did the pain from watching the faces of her friends turn to despair as they understood¡ªreally understood¡ªthat they would die.

    ***

    Nicolus sat next to Mirian on the couch reading, then rereading the newest letter from his uncle. It was the second they¡¯d received this cycle. ¡°I think we¡¯re getting to the limits of his knowledge about this all. But yes, he has heard whispers. At one of the Mercanton banquets, he overheard someone say something cryptic about an ¡®event¡¯ in Palendurio. He didn¡¯t think to mention it until we did, because he doesn¡¯t seem to realize what they mean by ¡®event.¡¯ And there¡¯s another thing. Prime Minister Jondar Kinsman is extremely popular with the regular people of Akana¡ªbut the upper crust there hates him. They spent the entire time just complaining about him.¡±

    Nicolus put the letter down. Mirian stared out the window, contemplating it all. ¡°So they know something about the conspiracy there. Maybe once I learn Eskanar, I can stop it. But I¡¯d have to spend my time in Mercanton, or maybe Vadriach.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a week to get there at least,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°Only a day to get to Cairnmouth, two to get to Palendurio, but most of the trips across the strait are scheduled in advance. The regular passenger ships are slow, though at least they don¡¯t have to deal with the winds anymore. Then you have to worry about customs. You¡¯ll need a seal of approval to get in. Not that hard to get, if you pretend to be a merchant, or forge some documents that show you taking an Academy sponsored trip. Nurea can probably help with that, she has some contacts in Cairnmouth.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Mirian raised an eyebrow. ¡°Syndicate contacts?¡±

    Nicolus laughed. ¡°Yeah, I guess you must already know about that. Anyways, probably four days is the minimum to get there, if you figure out some sort of trick to find quick passage and a way to speed through customs.¡±

    ¡°Not so bad. It¡¯s this place I understand, though. Maybe I don¡¯t even need to get to Akana Praediar. Besides, I don¡¯t speak Eskanar nearly well enough yet. And I wouldn¡¯t even know where to begin in¡­ like¡­ I mean, isn¡¯t Mercanton bigger than Palendurio?¡± Mirian was only just starting to get a handle on Torrviol. She didn¡¯t want to start all over in a new place, cut off from most of the allies and resources she could count on.

    ¡°Three times as big. It¡¯s massive. Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I¡¯m sure I can get us in contact with Uncle Alexus. No clue how he¡¯ll react, though. He¡¯s a bit of an odd one.¡±

    They sat in silence for some time, watching the winds across the lake. Then, she leaned into Nicolus, letting her head rest on his shoulder. He was solid, like a rock amidst the waters. A now familiar comfort to hold on to. Eventually, she put her head up and looked into his eyes, and watched his breath catch as her lips curled into a smile.

    ¡°All this time¡­¡± Nicolus whispered, but Mirian silenced him with a kiss. With his arms wrapped around her, their tongues entwined, she could escape the exhaustion that dragged at her, forget the inevitable pain that was coming, and simply exist in a moment.

    ***

    The war came to Torrviol again, and Mirian led a mixed unit of militia and army arcanists through the underground. By chance, Daith, the student from her combat classes, was part of the unit, though Mirian didn¡¯t mention their history. As she was assigning attack spell groupings, though, she remembered to have him use magnetic spells.

    When they came to the spot in the brick tunnels, Mirian called out, ¡°First and second squad, we¡¯ll hit the Akanans from behind. Third squad, watch our backs and keep the escape route clear. Ready?¡±

    ¡°Ready!¡± came the reply.

    Mirian nodded to Jei, whose orb lit up as she carved a hole in the ceiling. A mage moved the debris off to the side while Jei worked. When the hole was finished, a few skeleton bones rained down with the dirt as one of the catacomb alcoves collapsed into the tunnels. Another mage gathered the dust cloud into a tight ball and set it aside so no one would cough and alert the Akanans. With the passage opened, Mirian used her wand of levitation to ascend from the tunnel into the tight passage. She cast a quick divination spell to detect any nearby illusions, and found none. ¡°Clear,¡± she whispered, and anchored a knotted rope to the wall with a spike of force, then tossed it down.

    One by one, they climbed up. While the third squad took up positions and began fortifying the area with wards and enchantments, Mirian moved them through the maze of tunnels. She¡¯d worked to memorize the extensive map of the northern catacombs, which was where most of the underground fighting took place.

    ¡°You five, through that tunnel. You five, through that one. The rest of you, with me. All three of the tunnels emerge on their flank. On my mark.¡±

    The Akanans had their own geomancers carving tunnels as they needed, so the tactic wasn¡¯t unfamiliar to them, but Mirian had found they didn¡¯t expect a unit to move up a level, and they thought their flank was secure. From the shadows, she unleashed coruscating lightning, an enhanced spell that sent out more light than electricity, and so was perfect for blinding the Akanans.

    The command to attack was, ¡°Company, retreat!¡± in Eskanar. No one in her unit would confuse the meaning of the foreign words, but the surprise attack and the command might cause the Akanans confusion. As soon as her bolt flashed out, a mix of spells and gunfire came from the tunnels, smashing into the dozens of enemy soldiers. The rifles targeted the auramancers first so that their spells could hit the others unimpeded.

    The fighting was brief and brutal. Two militia and ten Akanans died within minutes, and then Mirian pulled her force back.

    ¡°Set the explosive traps along this section,¡± she said after they¡¯d descended back down through the hole. That would kill an unsuspecting squad as they tried to retake the area, then block a key route through the catacombs that would make it easier to bottleneck the Akanans in the northwestern tunnels.

    It was strange to be commanding people, and stranger still that they followed. She wondered what they thought of her, and if they really believed what she foretold.

    Then they moved east. The Myrvite Studies building was full of some very hungry beasts, and she intended to unleash them on the Akanans who were trying to push into the building. The angry wyverns would inflict the most damage, then fly north toward their nesting grounds, where they would further disrupt Akanan logistics. That in turn would let Hanaran push reinforcements into the north forest and cut off the Akanan entrances into the catacombs. With the felled trees and trenches they¡¯d prepared earlier, the armored wagons the Akanans used to support their infantry would be unable to aid the push, and the cover from the forest and communication delay between the army and the airships would prevent an aerial assault from hitting them until it was too late.

    ¡°Come on,¡± she said, hurrying forward. ¡°We win, or we die.¡±

    They died again, but by then it was just before midnight on the 2nd of Duala. It was the longest Mirian had gotten in the battle yet.

    When she awoke in her bed, the exhaustion hit her. By then, she hadn¡¯t slept more than a few hours over two days. Her body had slept¡ªthis new one, at least¡ªbut the fatigue seemed to travel with her in her soul. Come on Mirian, she chided herself, wishing she could just close her eyes. You¡¯re close. There will be time enough in this cycle to sleep.

    She sat up in her bed, ignoring the drip, drip, drip of the water from the hole above her bed plinking onto her head. Then she took a deep breath and stood.

    She had a war to win.

 Chapter 74 - Break

    Three cycles later, Mirian woke to Lily shaking her. ¡°Mirian. Mirian! Don¡¯t you have class or something?¡±

    Groggily, Mirian opened her eyes.

    ¡°What is¡­ what just hit me? Is that water? Wait, is that a hole in the ceiling?¡±

    Mirian closed her eyes again. She could hear Jei scolding her about pushing herself too hard. Whether or not she wanted to overcome her exhaustion, it seemed her body had other ideas. If the water hadn¡¯t been splashing her on the face, she might have closed her eyes again. ¡°Made to the 3rd of Duala,¡± she muttered. ¡°Just one more day¡­.¡±

    Lily made a face. ¡°What are you talking about? Also, how late did you stay up studying last night? You look terrible.¡±

    By then, Mirian had already missed her window of opportunity to catch the first spy in her usual spot. No doubt, she could chase him down or storm the headquarters or do something to get the cycle on track, but the very idea of it just made her want to close her eyes again. ¡°I¡¯m skipping Alchemistry. Just gonna sleep for a bit longer. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll ace it.¡±

    Lily said, ¡°Who are you and what have you done with Mirian? Last night you were convinced you were going to fail.¡±

    Last night. ¡®Last night¡¯ had been two years ago now. She¡¯d been fighting the Battle of Torrviol for a year. It seemed like a lifetime ago. The magnitude of it all felt like it had its own gravity, like the shadow she was tethered to was made of iron and to even get up she¡¯d have to drag that weight around. She closed her eyes and saw the statue of the Ominian looming over her.

    You understand, she thought. She remembered the words of the Prophets she¡¯d studied with Priest Krier. Your sacrifice was out of love.

    Love. She thought of the word as she looked at the black ooze calcified around the statue¡¯s empty wounds. It had been nearly three years since she¡¯d seen her family. Nearly three years since Zayd had run up to her and hug-tackled her legs and screamed ¡°Mi-Ri!¡± By now, she should have started that cozy artifice shop in Madinahr like she¡¯d planned, where she¡¯d only be a two days walk from home.

    Home, she thought. She hadn¡¯t seen her village either. Their apartment wasn¡¯t much, but she missed it.

    Mirian drifted back to sleep, ignoring Lily as she puttered about and talked at her. When she woke up, Lily was gone, though she¡¯d set an alarm candle to go off soon. Mirian took the nails out of it and blew it out. She knew what she was going to do. She could take a break for one cycle.

    She was going to visit her family. She was going home to Arriroba.

    Mirian changed into the single outfit she¡¯d brought that wasn¡¯t an Academy uniform, though she only had the one cloak. Then she left a note for Lily telling her not to worry and that she¡¯d worked everything out with the Academy, took out a loan at the bank so she¡¯d be set for money, and then set off.

    Some sort of issue with the primary spell engine delayed the train, so it was late in the evening when she arrived in Cairnmouth. She took lodging at one of the inns. The bed was clean and the shelves dusted, but the walls inside were thin. She could hear the people in the room next to her having a muffled argument, while the people above her were possibly preparing for a floor-stomping competition and had decided to get in some last-minute practice. Mirian slept poorly. The breakfast made up for some of it. Whatever butcher they¡¯d gotten the sausages from knew a thing or two about flavors, and it complimented the sauteed apples and toast perfectly.

    In the morning, Cairnmouth was claustrophobic as always, with too many people packed between the equally tight buildings. It was nice to see the colorful outfits people wore, rather than the elegant but ultimately drab colors that resulted from the Academy¡¯s dress code. It was not nice that they all seemed to be in a hurry and had no compunction simply bumping into her. This was not Mirian¡¯s first time in a city, so she kept her hand firmly on her bag so that pickpockets wouldn¡¯t try to get adventurous with it.

    She coughed up the silver she needed for a room on one of the sleeper cars, and took the next train to Alkazaria.

    The room was quite small, but it had a nice plush carpet, and it was nice to take her boots off and wiggle her toes in it. She stuffed her bag in the closet, then sat on the bed. The sheets smelled freshly laundered, and there was a little desk she could pull out so she could write while sitting on the mattress.

    Mirian hadn¡¯t brought any of the books she¡¯d been studying with her. Instead, she pulled out some drawing paper and her pen set and went about sketching pictures for Zayd. There was already a drawing and a letter in the mail, but Mirian would no doubt beat it to Arriroba. Zayd always loved the drawings she made for him. One time he¡¯d gotten so excited he¡¯d torn off a piece and eaten it¡ªthough to be fair, he had been three at the time. These days, he would turn the drawing over and use a charcoal stick to scribble spirals and lines all over the back of the drawing to add his own contribution. Mirian would always hold it up and praise his masterworks.

    Gods I miss him, she thought. And her mom and dad, too. In the dry summers of southeast Baracuel, they¡¯d bring a pack of ingredients and cookware to make spiced lamb tagine, hiking up to the overlook grove, where hardy trees and cliffs sheltered a view of the south. As the stew cooked, they¡¯d read books together while a cool breeze passed by (or in Zayd¡¯s case, play with the children of the other families who joined them there). On clear days, they could see the ocean, and if it was really clear, they could just make out some of the mountains across the East Sound that separated Baracuel and Persama.

    There wasn¡¯t much to do on the train, which had been her intent. She knew she needed to force herself to relax. She spent the hours reminiscing about home, drawing, and just getting lost gazing out the window. It was nice. Gradually, the landscape went from forests to fields to finally foothills as they passed north of the Casnevar Range. Once they crossed the Cairn River, the foothills faded into the scrublands, and it started to remind her again of home. She liked the vast stretches of shallow hills and the subtle mixes of oranges, browns, and yellows that were painted in the stones and shrubs. Something about the steady motion of the train and the low rumbling of the wheels lulled her to sleep easily.

    The second day of traveling, her guilt kicked in and she felt she was wasting time. After wandering back and forth between the train cars and impulsively buying a full meal from the diner, Mirian went back to her unit and pulled out her spellbook. First, she kept it closed, going through Jei¡¯s forty exercises twice. Then she perused through her spellbook and remembered how useless the damn thing was before she started scribing useful spells in it.

    Her mind wandered as she contemplated magic, and she found herself wondering if certain glyph combinations might lead to viable spells. Likely, someone had tried them, and maybe they¡¯d failed, but she no longer had libraries or professors to check with. She¡¯d spent a great deal of time scribing spells formulaically, and found the idea of scribing creatively a fun way to pass the time.

    And if she accidentally incinerated her spellbook, so what? It would be good as new soon enough.

    Sixthday, she arrived in Alkazaria as evening was approaching.

    Alkazaria was a port on the East Sound, and also sat astride the mouth of the Ibaihan River. It was dominated by dozens of thin white spires that rose high above everything else. It was another of the ancient cities, so it was encircled by a massive sandstone wall that stretched for miles around the city. Once clustered only inside the great walls, the flat-roofed buildings common to the region now spread well outside the wall, dispersing into surrounding farms. Even from a distance, Mirian could see the city center, where great temples and the Alkazaria Citadel clustered across the central hill.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Alkazaria was also called the ¡®City of Temples,¡¯ and for good reason. Hundreds of temples dotted the city, and the people took great pride in them. Each of the white spires represented a destination for holy pilgrims, where they might visit sanctums dedicated to both the Gods and Prophets.

    The train passed right by the First Spire. Below that thin marble tower was a shrine to Altrukyst, welcoming travelers into the city. Unlike western Baracuel, where the statues were drab, the statues of the Gods here were clothed in bright raiment, and equally colorful ceramic tiles decorated the walls by landmarks like the statue. Only the train station seemed out of place, the wrought iron columns and glass ceiling feeling far too modern to quite fit in a city brimming with more traditional forms of art and architecture.

    The city was far more open than any of the west Baracuel cities, with broad avenues lined with strip-gardens of cacti and succulents that thrived in the arid environment. The shops along the roads had sliding screen walls on the front that opened up in the day, and they were all mixed together with the carts that unfolded into their own open-air shops. Crowds casually strolled throughout the city, and the relaxed atmosphere made the city far more welcoming than the packed streets, narrow doors, and iron-grated windows of Cairnmouth.

    Mirian bought a cheese-and-lamb stuffed flatbread from a cart vendor, then a decorated cloth napkin from an amused vendor another two blocks down. The western train station and the eastern train station were about a mile apart from each other. The city had long talked about connecting the routes, but a great deal of large and wealthy households occupied the strip of city around the Ibaihan River, so it had stayed talk. People had to walk, and merchants dealt with the hassle by hiring spellcarts to move their goods.

    As she watched a spellcart¡¯s front wheel get caught in a pothole in the street, Mirian thought about how gravity magic would make both trains and carts so much more efficient and easier to take care of, though she understood why the magic was widely banned. It was just as easy to use those glyphs to hover over guards and into buildings. Almost every window in Alkazaria was open as a way to keep the buildings cool. Anyone trying to protect anything would have the hassle of fortifying every entrance and window with wards.

    When she arrived at the eastern station, her drifting thoughts were brought back down to earth by an angry crowd that was milling about the ticket booth.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she asked a man.

    ¡°They¡¯re saying we can¡¯t go east anymore!¡±

    ¡°And they¡¯ve taken down the schedule entirely,¡± a nearby woman bemoaned. ¡°Not even a guess as to when the train will be running again.¡±

    Mirian could see the beleaguered station attendants were explaining the situation to the crowd, and moved closer to hear the details.

    ¡°¡­and the locomotive wizards want to try to find the source of the issue,¡± one of the attendants was saying, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd. ¡°Also, the engine is still on the track, so it needs to be cleared, and we need to get a replacement engine. All tickets can be refunded, but simply put, while we¡¯re working as fast as we can, it¡¯s going to take quite a bit of time.¡±

    It took Mirian a bit longer to gather the details, since the station attendants didn¡¯t want to send anyone into a panic by explaining the full situation. It seemed the spell engine of a train had somehow gone into catastrophic failure halfway through the route, causing two cars to derail. The subsequent spell engine fire had caused molten iron to crust over both tracks on the eastern route. The fixes would take at least a week, maybe longer.

    ¡°I could walk to Madinahr in a week!¡± Mirian complained to the little crowd that was discussing the rumors.

    One of the women replied, ¡°Seems you¡¯ll have to. The roads are still under the spellward, but they¡¯re too rough for the wagons, so feet and camels are all that¡¯s left. I¡¯ve heard some merchants are working on organizing some caravans.¡±

    Mirian had ridden camels a few times as a girl, and had discovered they both had a mutual distaste for each other. Instead, she opted to buy an eximontar. Down here, there was a hardy breed that was better adapted to the dry conditions, and they moved quite a bit faster than camels. She¡¯d taken the mandatory eximontar riding classes at the Academy a few years back, so she at least knew the basics of riding and caring for the beasts.

    ¡°And you know you have to be an arcanist to ride one, right?¡± the merchant she was buying from said. ¡°Are you an arcanist?¡±

    Mirian put her hand on the spine of her spellbook and let the coins she was paying with spin about in a spiral, then added a few different colors of lights to the mix, before letting it drop to her hand.

    ¡°Right, sorry, you just looked a bit young. Also arcanists are usually wearing those fancy hats.¡±

    ¡°Never much cared for the hats,¡± Mirian told him.

    She named her horse Desert Rose, since the patterns and color on the eximontar¡¯s soft carapace reminded her of gypsum roses, and the animal¡¯s eyes reminded her of the flower with the same name. As she gently stroked the head of the beast and fed it a trickle of mana, she could see the intelligence shining in her vivid pink eyes.

    Next, she sold her satchel and a few bottles of scribing ink so she could get a proper traveling pack and food for the road. Despite the road being broken up and washed out in several places along the route, there were plenty of villages between Alkazaria and Madinahr, along with rest stops where caravans used to stop each night where there was plentiful fresh water. Just in case, Mirian cut the binding on her spellbook and extracted the arcane catalyst and wove it into the lining of her waistband so that no matter what happened, she¡¯d be able to use magic. That would also make feeding mana to the eximontar easier. The pages with spells, she bundled together with twine, and the rest she discarded. The lighter she traveled, the faster she¡¯d get this annoying trip over with.

    Her eagerness to see her family and village again kept her focused on speed as she traveled. Mirian trotted past other groups on the road, often going around the trail onto the beaches that paralleled the coastal route to avoid some caravan or cart that had gotten stuck on the road.

    Some of them gave her glares as she passed by without even asking if they needed assistance, as was the expected thing to do when traveling. Wouldn¡¯t matter if I helped them, she told herself. They¡¯re all doomed anyways.

    She rode, dismounted so Desert Rose could rest as they walked, then mounted again. The hard pace let her make it to the second rest station on the route. The rest stations weren¡¯t anything fancy; large standing stones had been erected around a central obelisk, with hardy yucca trees and colorful succulents wrapping around the stones. Before the spellwards, the standing stones had been enchanted with more traditional wards to keep away myrvites and other beasts, while the cindergold blooms repelled most vermin and insects from the campsite.

    To her dismay, Mirian found that the travel-obelisks at the rest stations had been allowed to deteriorate as the road was neglected in favor of the railway. The old stone needles carved with glyphs had also been in use before there were spellwards protecting the road, and just needed mana infusions to provide a nice, comfortable bubble of warmth for sleeping in. It was necessary. Here, the days were warm even in the winter, but the nights brought a horrid chill. Mirian had planned on being able to use the obelisks, so she hadn¡¯t bought any heavy blankets or a tent, just the bedroll.

    Several other travelers who had arrived were arguing about if they should start trying to uproot nearby shrubs to build a fire. With a sigh, Mirian pulled out her ink set and got to work on the damaged glyphs. What they really needed for the repair was the crystal-myrvite organ powder mix that could then be turned into a cement that would last in the stone, but Mirian knew she could heat-treat her inks once applied to at least get the glyphs working again. The other travelers grew silent, especially when they noticed she was working without a spellbook. Though her arcane catalyst was at her belt, to them it must have looked like she was casting without any aid.

    When the last glyph was in place, she charged the obelisk with mana, and felt the pleasant warmth emanating from it. It was far beyond what she had been able to do even a year ago. Once, she might have run out of mana just fixing it. Now, she had plenty left over.

    She ignored the stares of the other travelers, got out her bedroll, curled up, and closed her eyes. It had been a long day. The eximontar clacked around a bit on its six hooves, trying to strip leaves from one of the hardier shrubs before it gave up and settled down. With the mana-bond in place, she knew it wouldn¡¯t stray. Mirian quickly went to sleep.

    She dreamed of tunnels where the walls moved like flesh, eyes in the walls opening up and watching her, where she wandered for hours. Unintelligible whispers surrounded her like a haze as she moved.

    When she emerged from the tunnels, she found herself looking out across the familiar arid landscape. In the distance, she saw the colossal statue of the Ominian from the mausoleum she dreamed so frequently of. She could instantly tell that¡¯s what it was; it had the same swirling colors, the same whorls of eyes and wings carved into it¡ªbut it was different, too. Here, it was standing, and unwounded. It looked out across the landscape in silence, so she looked with it. Together, they gazed across the gently drifting hills and watched the cool ocean breeze race across the fields of golden grass, watched the multicolored leaves of shrubs dance and sway in that wind. High above, distant cirrus clouds stretched across the top of the sky, while vultures circled and birds flitted about through the fields.

    She awoke to a feeling that was difficult to describe. This place, she thought. This land. The words and images lingered, even as her morning grogginess and the exact events of the dream wore off.

    It was early dawn when she set out again. The other travelers were still sleeping. As she left the warded area behind, the bitter chill of night washed over her. She ignored it, and pressed on. Her destination called to her.

    Home called to her.

 Chapter 75 - The Road Home

    The second day on the road was as uneventful as the first. Thankfully, the next rest station¡¯s obelisk was in better shape, and the travelers there thanked her for charging it. It had a minor mana leak, but was functional without repairs. The third day, she saw several traders pointing out to sea as she neared them. When she turned, she saw the thin spines of a leviathan cutting through the waters, dark body the size of a ship just visible on the surface.

    That was strange. Leviathans rarely came into the East Sound, and it was rarer still for them to come to the surface. She stopped Desert Rose, and while the eximontar started eying the nearby foliage, Mirian watched the colossal creature swim along the coast. It was a majestic sight from the shore. From the sea, it must have been terrifying. A little flock of fishing boats from a nearby village¡ªsails dwarfed by the size of the spines¡ªtacked hard to shore and beached themselves. She could hear the distant echoes of their shouting far down the beach.

    Eventually, the leviathan slipped under the water, and she rode on. It was only the second time she had ever seen one. When she was a child, her parents had taken her on a long tour of the country in an extended family vacation. They¡¯d sailed along the Rift Sea, and they¡¯d seen a leviathan off in the distance. The crew had immediately gotten to work on charging spellward buoys while the sorcerers had gone to starboard so they could watch it in case it approached. Thankfully, it had wandered off, but the whole crew was on edge the rest of the day.

    Mirian ate simple lunches of bread and olive oil so she didn¡¯t have to stop. Just after lunch, Mirian made it to the wreck.

    Five repair cars waited on the train tracks that lay just north of the road, while about a dozen workers mostly stood around, some leaning on shovels, while two sorcerers worked on levitating steel wreckage off to the side. The spell engine clearly had ignited; metal slag had melted and spilled all across the tracks, then hardened into a shiny lump. The engine car itself was unrecognizable. Two other cars had derailed, though they¡¯d only partially melted in the heat.

    Mirian could tell it was no ordinary accident, though. Anyone not an arcanist might have missed it, but there was a hole a few dozen paces from the tracks. It was only about a foot wide, and had already collapsed into itself, but she could still feel the arcane energy lingering in the spot. She paused, then rode over to see it.

    ¡°Hey! This is a work zone. Dangerous, yeah? Back to the trail!¡± one of the workers called.

    ¡°Just checking something out,¡± Mirian said, and dismounted so she could trudge up to the spot.

    ¡°Can you¡ª?¡±

    ¡°Yeah I¡¯ll deal with her. Hey!¡± One of the workers jogged over. ¡°This area¡¯s not safe. You can watch from the road if you want, but we need to keep people from the site. The sorcerers are moving around some heavy stuff, and there¡¯s no telling if everything here is done burning.¡±

    Mirian ignored him. There were enough people standing around it was clear they didn¡¯t think it was dangerous anymore. What they didn¡¯t want was a critical detail spreading. This wasn¡¯t just a spell engine catching fire. One of the magical eruptions must have triggered it.

    It¡¯s still so early in the cycle, Mirian thought. And now, she¡¯d looked at the data Respected Jei had given her. She knew that there weren¡¯t even any tests on the Arcane Monument anywhere near this date range. That, and what the Akanan spy had told her all made it clear: something else was going on.

    The magical eruption had been a small one, thankfully, or the entire train might have been incinerated and everyone killed. This was the first time she¡¯d actually seen the site of an eruption, though. Naturally, she didn¡¯t have any measuring devices or useful divination spells.

    ¡°Did you hear me?¡±

    Besides, this is your break, Mirian told herself. ¡°Sure. Good luck,¡± she told the worker, and headed back down to Desert Rose, who had clamped her mouth down on a nearby shrub and seemed to be trying to pull it out of the ground by shaking her head back and forth.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find another just like it,¡± she told the eximontar. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± She let a trickle of mana distract Desert Rose and led her back to the trail. Then they were off again, trotting down the road.

    In the sky above, she watched a pair of two-headed vultures soar over the road, landing on the beach where they started tearing at some washed up carcass. Then she saw a lightning scorpion cross the trail ahead of them, and she realized what she¡¯d just seen. Myrvites, crossing the road like the spellward wasn¡¯t even there.

    Of course the spellward went down. The eruptions always disrupt the barrier, she realized. So much for an idyllic ride along the coast; she¡¯d need to watch for the nastier myrvites. The last thing she needed was to be ambushed by a manticore and be stuck full of poison needles just before she made it to the safety of Madinahr.

    In the end, it wasn¡¯t a manticore. It was a desert drake, sunbathing in the middle of the road, thick front claws dug into the corpse of a half-eaten man. She rounded the corner of a bluff, and there it was. The corpse¡¯s pack still lay in pieces by the side of the road. The desert drake snapped its head towards Mirian.

    The tide was in, and here the bluff was steep enough she couldn¡¯t just go up it. While there was a bit of beach left to the side, desert drakes could move fast, despite their bulky size. There was no way she was just going to go around it.

    This drake was larger than a bull, and while ¡®human¡¯ was a perfectly acceptable meal, she knew it could feel the magic radiating off of Desert Rose. It moved forward in little bursts, then froze. Readying to charge, she knew. At least this species of drake couldn¡¯t fly, though it still did have stubby wings protruding from the scales on its back.

    Her eximontar made alarmed clacking noises. Mirian quickly dismounted and opened up her pack, digging into the bottom where the spellbook pages were. She snatched out the only two pages that were going to do anything here: a flame beam and force razor spell, each of which were practice spells for novices, not combat spells. They would just have to do. She tossed the pack to the side of the road so it wouldn¡¯t be in her way.

    The desert drake crept forward again, eyes darting between her and the eximontar. Mirian shooed Desert Rose back while keeping her eyes locked on the drake. As the beast backed up, the drake froze again, beady eyes watching her.

    Precision would be key, she knew. Hitting the drake on the scales, especially with a fire or cutting spell, would do next to nothing. She had to target the vulnerable parts. The closer the range, the more damage she could do, but she also needed to make sure the drake didn¡¯t get its claws into her. One swipe could be fatal.

    The drake¡¯s muscular legs tensed.

    Mirian loaded her own legs and got ready to dodge.

    The desert drake charged forward, huge bulk coming right at her. Mirian started with the strongest force razor spell she could muster and aimed it right at the beast¡¯s eye. Then she flung herself off the road and into the sand to her right. The myrvite let out what she could only describe as a chittering roar-hiss. It started moving erratically, but Mirian finished tumbling down the shallow slope and bounded to her feet, circling around on the side she¡¯d just blinded. The beast caught sight of Desert Rose, who was now galloping away back down the road.

    The last thing she needed was the two myrvites chasing each other back the way they¡¯d came for who knew how long. Mirian sent a flame beam into the side of its head near the ear hole, which caused the beast to recoil first, then turn. It made a low growling noise, then charged again.

    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    This time, Mirian was only just able to scramble out of the way as a huge claw came lashing out to smash her. She rolled, then dashed behind it, leaping over the tail as it too tried to swat her. She grabbed a rock from the bluff and pitched it at the drake¡¯s head, then sent another flame beam at it, channeling the spell until she could smell burnt flesh.

    The overgrown lizard charged again, but Mirian ducked to her right again on its blind side, so it only swatted at the cliff, sending up a cloud of dust. She froze as the drake did. They have poor eyesight, right? Thanks Professor Viridian, never knew that would come in handy. The drake slowly moved its head side to side. Mirian kept still. When the world¡¯s smallest landslide tumbled down the bluff face, causing the drake to still again and cock its head, Mirian took her opportunity, sending a force razor at its other eye. The blades sunk in deep, and the drake let out another roar, then burst toward her. This time, there was nowhere for Mirian to go. She pressed herself up against the cliff-face and tried to breathe as quietly as she could.

    The desert drake came close enough that Mirian could have reached out to touch it. It was scrunching up its face and making a weird sound, then its tongue would dart out. Shit, they can sense heat, can¡¯t they?

    As the drake turned towards Mirian, she channeled one more time, pouring as much mana as she could into the spell so that the beast¡¯s spell resistance wouldn¡¯t hamper the cut. As its tongue darted out again, she slashed through it, then sent pulses of fire at it again and again.

    The tormented lizard finally had enough. It turned and lumbered off, running from the small but very painful prey. Mirian watched it go, then finally let her breath out. It had come within inches of just being able to bite her in half.

    She¡¯d learned two things. One, if she ever wanted to take a break again, she¡¯d still need a weapon. Two, drake breath was horrendously stinky.

    Mirian retrieved her pack, then jogged down the road to retrieve Desert Rose, who was staring intently at a little crab on the beach, while the little crab danced back and forth snapping its pincers menacingly. Between over-enhancing her spells and charging the traveler¡¯s obelisks, Mirian¡¯s mana was running low, but she still had enough to encourage Desert Rose to pay attention to the road again.

    As they passed the dead traveler¡ªit was absolutely gruesome, the drake had taken several bites out of him and his head was gone¡ªMirian said a prayer to Xylatarvia. His soul would not find peace she knew. Time and time again, he would die in this spot, time and time again, his body ripped apart, over and over and over and over until¡ª

    She didn¡¯t want to think about it. But she couldn¡¯t run from it, either.

    Mirian traveled on.

    ***

    The fourth night, Mirian found a village to rest in. With the spellward down, it was better to have actual watchers on alert, and the village was thankful to know where the spellward was down (and why), and that she¡¯d chased off a desert drake. One of the women offered her a bed and refused any of the coins she had, which wasn¡¯t much at this point. Mirian ate at her table with her husband and daughter. While she regaled them with tales of Torrviol Academy (before the time loops), they told her funny stories from the village.

    One of the adolescent boys had thought he¡¯d found the mother of all oysters, and was sure he¡¯d bring back a pearl that would make him rich. Instead, he¡¯d stuck his hand into an octopus that had been hiding inside the empty shell, which had panicked and latched onto his arm. He¡¯d emerged on the surface screaming bloody murder about how it was dragging him to the depths for at least a minute before it just let go of his arm and swam off, leaving him thoroughly embarrassed.

    It was nice to relax and laugh a little. Mirian thanked her hosts profusely before she set off again in the morning.

    She reached Madinahr just after sunset, only to find the gates closed. At first, the gate guard wouldn¡¯t let her in.

    ¡°It¡¯s too late,¡± he said. ¡°Rules are when the spellward is down, the gate stays closed.¡±

    ¡°Then why does the city bother manning the gate at night if you¡¯re just going to tell everyone to go away?¡± Mirian snapped.

    The guard hesitated. ¡°Your accent is very good. But it is quite suspicious for a lone Persaman to be entering the city at night, is it not? Especially with the revolt going on down by Rambalda. Spies are not welcome in Madinahr.¡±

    Mirian gaped at him. ¡°You think I¡¯m a spy? I was born in Arriroba! My father teaches the school there and we traveled to Madinahr once a month for years! I went to Madinahr Preparatory School!¡± Mirian looked at the guard. It was dark enough she hadn¡¯t recognized him at first, but now she did. ¡°And so did you. You also did dueling, yes?¡±

    The guard¡¯s eyes went wide, and he blushed. ¡°Oh shit. You¡¯re¡­ oh. Sorry. We¡¯re¡­ uh¡­ a little on edge here, what with the sabotage on the train tracks and the army being pushed back. Really sorry about the mixup.¡±

    As he opened the gate, he continued to apologize, mixing in rambled comments about the ¡®revolt in Persama¡¯ some more, and Mirian wanted to tell him that he didn¡¯t have to worry, it¡¯d be suppressed in a few days if it wasn¡¯t over already, but that would lead to too many questions and she was too tired for that. She promised she wouldn¡¯t report him or anything, which made the man relieved. Here, at least, guards can actually be held accountable. Not that it mattered much.

    Mirian sold the rest of her inks and her scribing pen at the night market, then used her coral beadcoins to get a hot meal at one of the taverns by the docks. While raucous sailors drank and told tall tales, Mirian let both the sound and the smells of the kitchen wash over her. The fresh-caught fish prepared in a proper spicy sauce was divine. She¡¯d missed eastern cooking so much.

    Madinahr had several inns scattered about the town, and Mirian picked the familiar One Horse Open Stay since she¡¯d been there before and, as the name suggested, it had a stable for Desert Rose. That left her with about two silver drachms and a string of beadcoins, but money had stopped mattering to her. If she needed more, she could take out a loan or sell Desert Rose. She¡¯d only sold her artificing supplies because it was convenient, and the banks didn¡¯t open until morning.

    The next morning, old memories came flooding back as Mirian started up the road to Arriroba. The spellward on that route was intact, and because there was no train to Arriroba, the road was well maintained. It was a two day walk to her village, but now that she was so close, Mirian had no urge to hurry. The trail¡¯s familiarity was already putting her at ease. Each curve in the trail, each farm, each mill, even the grooves in the road¡ªit was all familiar. She remembered walking along it so many times with her parents.

    She waved to the locals when she saw them. A few she recognized, like one of the older men tending his olive trees, or a woman who ran one of the mills by the river, though she didn¡¯t know their names.

    Her final stop before her home was Altrukyst¡¯s Warm Candle, the inn she and her parents always stayed at whenever they needed to travel to or from Madinahr. The innkeeper, a middle-aged woman named Pardia, greeted Mirian with a smile when she walked in. ¡°Mirian! Now that¡¯s a surprise.¡± Her brow furrowed slightly. ¡°Thought you¡¯d be in school. Everything¡¯s okay?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Just taking some time off. I¡¯ll take the usual.¡±

    Pardia smiled and took the silver drachm Mirian slid her. ¡®The usual¡¯ was whatever Pardia decided to cook and a room. She and the other guests ate with Pardia at the large dining table, and Mirian was content to listen to how the countryside had fared since she¡¯d been gone. Only once did her smile falter as one of the men mentioned a strange sight one night, like a little fountain of light bursting out of the ground.

    Giddiness seized her the next day as she approached her home. She knew it by the way the river bent, knew it by the western bluffs, knew it by even the smell of the soil.

    Home.

    She got a few stares as she trotted into the village, but she just waved. She used a mana thread to get Desert Rose to go run off to the grazing field where the eximontar could spend the night with the horses and camels. When she got to her family¡¯s apartment, the one above the weaver¡¯s shop, something felt wrong. The windows were dark, even though the family always had a glyph lamp on¡ªZayd didn¡¯t like the dark, and both her parents loved reading in the evening.

    When she tried the door, it was locked. Now that was really strange. They rarely locked the door. It was Arriroba¡ªno one locked their door. A thousand thoughts raced through her head. Did something happen? She feared the worst.

    Mirian channeled, tapping the tumblers in the lock into place, then walked in, heart pounding. She tread carefully, like the floor was delicate. ¡°Hello?¡± she asked.

    But all the rooms were dark. The sheets were neatly tucked in on the beds, the kitchen tidy, the living room books all neatly shelved¡ªbut it was empty.

    Her home was empty.

    A single thought in her mind eclipsed all others: Where is my family?

 Chapter 76 - Broken

    She left her family¡¯s apartment in a daze, heart still hammering. She knew there were things she could do, people she could ask. Hells, she could ask anyone, it was Arriroba, she knew half the town. But in that moment, she couldn¡¯t find any words, just that thought repeating over and over: where are they? Where are they? She sat on the wooden steps leading up to her apartment and looked at the ground.

    It was Grandpa Irabi who approached her. That¡¯s what everyone called him, even though he had no children or grandchildren, but he was a kind old man who liked looking after people, and everyone in Arriroba had an affection for him that made him family. During the summer festivals, he sat at a different family table every night, and that only because there was one of him.

    ¡°Mirian,¡± he said in that quiet, deep voice of his. As always, his white beard was neatly braided into three rows. ¡°No one expected to see you back. Something¡¯s wrong, then.¡±

    Grandpa Irabi always knew. Mirian said, ¡°Where are they?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re fine. Their letter must not have reached you yet. Or maybe they wanted it to¡­ they probably wanted it to be a surprise.¡±

    ¡°Mom knows I hate surprises,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Sometimes she remembers that. They¡¯re on a trip with Zayd. They came into some money. A nice man with more silver than sense came through town and purchased some of your mother¡¯s woodwork for a very fine price. They¡¯d always wanted to take Zayd on a trip like the one they¡¯d taken you on when you were young, and they wanted to see your graduation. So they set out.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s breath caught in her chest. It was good to know they were safe. But she had wanted to see them. She needed to see them. ¡°Where did they go?¡± she said in a little voice.

    ¡°All around. They left a few weeks ago. I know they were to visit Alkazaria¡ªwell, no real way to get anywhere without going there first. Then they were going to go west. ¡®See what¡¯s to be seen,¡¯ your father said. They, ah, didn¡¯t precisely leave an itinerary.¡±

    Of course they didn¡¯t. And why would they? Why would they expect she would abandon the Academy and try to visit them? She stared back down at the ground.

    ¡°You want someone to listen to you, you know Grandpa Irabi always has an ear for you,¡± he said, and reached out to squeeze her hand.

    ¡°I know,¡± Mirian said.

    She didn¡¯t even need to say it. Grandpa Irabi knew. ¡°You need some time. Go ahead. I''ll have dinner ready for you when you come back. And I¡¯ll see that your new steed behaves.¡±

    Mirian managed a smile, and a nod, and then she was walking to the bluffs.

    She was surprised to discover, as she searched inside herself, a new capacity for emptiness. It felt like her ability to feel sorrow had evaporated, like all the emotions in her had been replaced by a dark and empty shell, like if she examined her soul, she would see the flowing light replaced by shadow and stillness.

    Mirian made her way up to the trail, just like she had a thousand times before, and soon enough, she was sitting on the cliffside, looking out over the south as the sun sank into the west. Out that way, the bellies of the clouds all ignited, while the rest of them turned that soft velvet purple. The sky¡¯s blue slowly faded, and the first stars came out. Mirian watched this all, and still felt nothing. Thoughts flitted about, but they came and went too fast to notice, gnats buzzing in a cloud.

    When she got back to the apartment, Grandpa Irabi had left her a warm meal, just like he said. Logically, she knew it was full of flavor, but she ate it mechanically, and then slept.

    When she dreamed, the statue of the Ominian was still watching the sunset. She watched it with Them. When the night had finally settled, the statue turned to face her. In the night¡¯s shadow, she could make out nothing, no features, only its colossal silhouette against the backdrop of stars. Somehow, though, she knew. They understand.

    ***

    In the morning, Mirian went through the motions of taking care of herself. She headed over to the bathhouse¡ªArriroba still had the traditional structure, as most apartments still lacked running water¡ªand took a much needed dip in one of the heated pools. It was a relief to change into a fresh set of clothes once she was clean. Then she fed Desert Rose a trickle of mana, then herself a light breakfast of bread left over from her journey. She didn¡¯t bother flavoring it with anything.

    She found herself going through her room. There was her medallion from winning the regional tournament. There was a pile of old drawings in her desk, with Zayd¡¯s scribbles decorating them. There was a wooden statue of Eintocarst that she¡¯d made in the woodshop her mother worked at, complete with its tiny wooden abacus and her sad attempt at carving a chimera. There were letters from her friends both in preparatory school and her school here in Arriroba. She ran her fingers over the paper.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    In the back of her desk, she heard something metal clang. She reached back and pulled out an old ring.

    At first, she had no recollection of it. It was a black band with silvery-white decorations that reminded her of wings, or maybe a rib cage. She didn¡¯t even remember what it was made out of; the primary metal was so dark it was nearly black, and the white metal didn¡¯t seem like anything she was used to working with. Professor Torres would be gravely disappointed in her for failing to recognize the material, she was sure. Turning it over in her hands, she found a spot where someone had carved the initials G.N. into the black metal. It was her dad¡¯s ring, she remembered, finally, though those weren¡¯t his initials. Had it belonged to one of his grandparents? She couldn¡¯t remember. She had the faintest recollection of a thin silhouette handing it to her, and holding it tight in her little fist. It had seemed bigger back then. Keep it close, he¡¯d told her, and she had, though she couldn¡¯t remember why. Then she¡¯d hidden it, though she couldn¡¯t remember why either. It was important, though. She knew that. She put the ring back and closed the drawer.

    For a few hours, she sat in her family¡¯s apartment, not bothering to open the shutters on the window, not bothering to turn on any glyph lamps. Eventually, she got up and forced herself to go at least through the motions of relaxing. She went around her village, checking in on people she knew, and kept things vague about why she was back. Most of the people she¡¯d known as a child were gone, off to other towns to make a living, but a few remained. She ate well; it was good to taste the flavors of home. It wasn¡¯t miserable. In many ways it was nice.

    But it wasn¡¯t fulfilling.

    She found herself talking to Grandpa Irabi again. He went on a walk with her through the outskirts of the village, where they passed by groves of fruit trees and vegetable fields. Arcane pumps were busy pulling water from the nearby river, and some of the spray misted onto them, which was a welcome relief from the heat. It wasn¡¯t exactly hot; it was still winter, but she¡¯d grown used to Torrviol¡¯s climate.

    ¡°I needed to see them,¡± she told him. ¡°It¡¯s been almost three years.¡±

    Irabi didn¡¯t say anything, he just kept listening.

    Mirian said, ¡°The world ends on the 4th of Duala, and any time I die, I get sent back. It¡¯s been happening for two years. I needed¡­.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Irabi said.

    That was what Mirian loved about Grandpa Irabi. He didn¡¯t question, or prod, or say ¡®well that¡¯s really unlikely,¡¯ he just accepted her story, and was there to listen. She told him more about the problems she was having, and he nodded along. He wouldn¡¯t have any solutions, she knew.

    When she was done, she sighed. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll keep going,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s what I have to do.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± the old man said. ¡°But for now, you will have to stay here and eat good food with good people. You will join me each night, and we will talk and laugh until the stars come out. You will play with the children, and show them your magic, and watch as they gape with wonder. Then, on the 4th of Duala, we will watch the moon fall together, from the bluffs, and drink wine. We will toast to the Gods, for they have chosen wisely.¡±

    Mirian laughed at that, then burst into tears, then wiped them away. ¡°It¡¯s good to be home,¡± she said. ¡°At least I have my Grandpa Irabi.¡±

    ***

    She did just that. Sometimes, as she was showing off a fancy show of raw magic to a group of children, or when she was laughing over a joke at dinner, she could forget the time loop, forget her despair, and just be present. Sometimes, the feelings of joy stayed muted, and she spent an evening in silence, putting on a fake smile in the hope that it might become real.

    It became her habit to watch the sunset from the bluffs. There, she could more easily see the magical eruptions as it grew dark. For an hour after the sun set below the horizon, she would count them as they grew more frequent. Soon, it was more than just the eruptions. She saw an aurora glow in the sky, curtains of light that flickered orange and violet, forming strange patterns across the dome of the sky.

    Each night, the Divir moon glimmered above, like an especially large and bright star, just southeast. She watched for changes in it. Had it grown a little brighter? Why didn¡¯t it stray from its spot in the sky, when everything everyone knew about physics said it ought to move like the Luamin moon?

    She ended each night by meditating, mentally tracing the outline of her soul. It was still bright, despite what she felt.

    True to his word, on the last day, Grandpa Irabi brought a bottle of wine when they met on the bluffs. ¡°There¡¯s a beauty to it,¡± he said.

    By then, half of Arriroba had fled. Some north, some south¡ªanywhere they thought they might be safe. It wasn¡¯t just the violent geysers anymore; leylines broke through the crust of the planet, scouring everything nearby. By the end, every few minutes another would breach the surface, flickering with light so bright even the highest clouds reflected it.

    The Divir moon brightened. It had started falling, then. Auroras swirling like slow-motion storms decorated the sky. Thunder rolled across the land, the sound of the eruptions coming from every corner. The southeast horizon flickered like lightning. Somewhere west, Nicolus had died in a train car. Back in Torrviol, Valen had died fighting in the Kiroscent Dome. Lily had probably died in the fields, going back for her spellbook. Respected Jei had been dead for weeks, her body never to be found. Somewhere else, little Zayd was crying with her mother and father as the world died.

    ¡°There is,¡± she agreed, watching it all with dry eyes. ¡°I guess, no matter how far I run, it will always be there. And back again I go. Philosophers said you can¡¯t recross the same river twice, but I¡¯ll cross it again and again, the same waters rushing past me until I know every drop by heart.¡±

    Irabi nodded. ¡°But you can¡¯t cross the same river twice, even if the water is the same. Because you will change, and when you stand in the river, you are as much a piece of it as the banks that confine it and the stones that part it.¡±

    Mirian took a deep breath. The moon was much brighter now, and the sky had begun to take on an unearthly brightness.

    ¡°I¡¯ll stop it, eventually,¡± she said, as the sky began to blind them.

    Grandpa Irabi smiled at her. ¡°I know you will.¡±

    The world became incandescent, and all was fire.

 Chapter 77 - Breakthrough

    Mirian returned to her work in Torrviol.

    By now, she had a foundation in the celestial runes, and Respected Jei had moved her focus from raw magic exercises to channeling exercises, while continuing to bring her up to speed on her knowledge of the latest magical research. The more Jei taught her, the more she began to agree with Xipuatl; current arcane theory had a lot of math that accurately described energy transformations, but had no explanation for where missing energy was going. The problem was not conceptual; it was pretty easy to understand that if the soul and celestial magic were both in play, that explained the missing energy. The problem was measuring celestial magic. Xipuatl had no way of doing it, and as far as Mirian could tell, none of the fancy equipment in Torrian Tower could either. It was like they were trying to measure the height of a cliff face, but no one had invented rulers yet, never mind trigonometry.

    If it had been arcane glyphs, Mirian could have used what she knew to simply build a yard stick herself. However, Xipuatl knew only a handful of celestial runes, and creating them was no simple task. Runes could only be crafted by drawing power from a living soul. Xipuatl¡¯s myrvite plant collection was a good start, but several of the runes he knew required dangerous myrvites only found in Tlaxhuaco. Both of them were sure the myrvites around Torrviol could be used to make runes, but he didn¡¯t know those runes.

    While it was clear that Mirian had a natural affinity for learning soul magic, Xipuatl was running out of things he could teach her. To expand her repertoire of celestial runes, she would need to learn the new rune, learn the special materials needed, and learn what kind of souls she could draw from. All of this knowledge was simultaneously highly illegal and a closely guarded secret by anyone who knew. Priest Krier continued to be kind to Mirian as she studied the words of the Prophets, but politely rebuffed any attempts she made to learn anything about the secret knowledge the Luminate Temple possessed. Her divination spells of the Temple had turned up nothing, which made sense given they couldn¡¯t detect the type of magic she was looking for.

    Mirian thought she was reaching a dead-end. Instead, she stumbled upon the solution to a totally different problem.

    It was several cycles after her break. Mirian had taken to wandering around town with Xipuatl¡¯s Elder reliquary hidden in her coat so that when she came across one of the common myrvites in town¡ªlike moon flickers or prism moths¡ªshe could practice feeling and connecting to their souls. Xipuatl hadn¡¯t actually given her permission to do this, but he had given her a key to his apartment, and while he was attending class, he wouldn¡¯t miss it. Unexpectedly, the moon flickers seemed to figure out that she was reaching out to their souls. When she did, the orange spots under their wings fluoresced and they made this rising, rattling call that clearly communicated their displeasure with her.

    As interesting as that was, though, it was when she was passing by the burnt out husk of the spy¡¯s headquarters that she made the breakthrough. She was trying to find bone-rats, which had eluded her despite being a common pest in Torrviol. Instead, as she extended her soul sense, she felt something else, and realized it was coming from the inside of the building.

    Mirian looked around. She was being followed by the usual crowd at this point in the cycle¡ªa man from the mayor¡¯s office, another from the Academy, and someone else who she suspected was linked to one of the myrvite organ smuggling operations. They were used to her prodding about in the ruined building looking for clues, so she went straight in.

    The walls were blackened, and walking through the rooms kicked up ash and the smell of smoke. She found what she was sensing right where she might expect¡ªbeneath the floor just in front of the door to the room where all the important papers were stored. There wasn¡¯t much left, but as soon as she was close, she recognized it. It wasn¡¯t a glyph. It was a celestial rune. She¡¯d never found it because it was embedded on the inside of the stone floor tiles, and she¡¯d been looking for arcane glyphs.

    One of the Akanan spies knows celestial magic, she realized. Did that mean a priest was part of the operation? Is that why Krier was stonewalling her? Or did Priest Krier not even know? Another possibility struck her, assuming Xipuatl was right: one of the spies was a necromancer.

    She stared at the rune for a long time, memorizing the shape of it. Then she broke her connection with the reliquary and established it with her catalyst. She used one of Jei¡¯s spells to carefully detach the section of the stone from the floor, and brought it with her to study in Xipuatl¡¯s apartment.

    ¡°Tell me what you know about this,¡± she told Xipuatl when he returned from class.

    ¡°It¡¯s a chunk of rock,¡± he said.

    She handed Xipuatl the Elder reliquary.

    His brow furrowed in concentration as he examined it. ¡°Well shit,¡± he said finally. ¡°It¡¯s a celestial rune.¡±

    ¡°I know that,¡± Mirian said. ¡°What¡¯s the rune do?¡±

    ¡°No clue. Haven¡¯t seen it before.¡±

    She made an exasperated noise. ¡°Can the runes and soul magic be used enough like arcane magic to trigger a trap? Perhaps some sort of fire trap that catches a whole apartment on fire?¡±

    Xipuatl looked at her, then looked down and noticed the soot on the chunk of tile. ¡°This is from that building that burned? The one with the spies? Wait. How would they¡­?¡± He trailed off, lost in thought. Then he started pacing, back and forth, back and forth, which was how she knew he was really cooking up some special ideas. Mirian let him.

    ¡°Celestial magic isn¡¯t quite the same as arcane magic,¡± Xipuatl said, which meant he was thinking out loud now. ¡°It can¡¯t do energy transformations the same way. And it nullifies arcane energy on contact, which is why souls are spell resistant. Sort of. Sometimes. But the myrvites¡­ Viridian¡¯s royal cordyline created the burning crown as it sensed its own soul damage, so there must be a mechanism. Yes,¡± he said, finally looking up at Mirian. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t work the same way as arcane glyph phrases, it would have to be set up totally differently, but yes. Then that¡¯s it.¡±

    ¡°The rune-phrase would have to be simple, though. How can it differentiate between souls?¡±

    ¡°Necromancy. Not just what the Luminates say is necromancy, either, I mean real necromancy, where you modify a person¡¯s soul. Tlaxhuacans don¡¯t do that, so I can¡¯t help you there, but that¡¯s what it must be detecting.

    A curse spell, but a harmless one. This detects it. Which means I would be able to detect it.

    Mirian perked up. ¡°I¡¯m borrowing this. I¡¯ll be right back,¡± she said, grabbing the reliquary again.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­.¡± Xipuatl held up his hand, then grimaced dramatically, then said, ¡°I really hate this time loop shit. The reliquary really can¡¯t be¡­ it¡¯s one thing to logically know it¡¯ll be back with me no matter what happens, but it really doesn¡¯t feel right.¡±

    ¡°Promise,¡± Mirian said, hiding it back under her coat.

    Xipuatl took a deep breath. ¡°Okay.¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t quite run to the Magistrate¡¯s Office, but only just. She burst in and before the desk attendant could even say ¡®hello,¡¯ she said ¡°I need to see Mandez. The false captain. Nathanial.¡±

    The desk attendant opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, then looked towards the door.

    ¡°Let her in,¡± came Magistrate Ada¡¯s voice from the other room.

    The attendant nodded toward the door.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Mirian went in.

    ¡°He¡¯s not talking to anyone,¡± Ada said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t need him to talk,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I just need him restrained.¡± Realizing that sounded weird, she added, ¡°I mean, I¡¯m doing a¡­ divination thing. I just need him to not move or attack me.¡±

    Ada raised an eyebrow. ¡°All the hard work of your professors, and you¡¯re calling it a ¡®divination thing¡¯?¡±

    Mirian laughed. ¡°Only the best.¡±

    It took a few minutes to set up. Mandez¡ªor Nathanial, rather¡ªliked to resist anything anyone did. They had to send in two guards to get the manacles on him, and Nathanial fought the whole time. It wasn¡¯t the first time, either; he was covered in bruises and marks. When he was restrained, arms spread wide and the chains latched to the walls, he stopped, forehead bleeding slightly from a cut. One of the guards gave him a nasty kick in the shin with his steel-tipped boot, as a parting gift to his former superior and traitor.

    Mirian waited, composed if not actually feeling patient, and then stepped into the room.

    ¡°I won¡¯t tell you anything,¡± the former captain said, and then spit in her face.

    ¡°You are a real nasty piece of work,¡± she said, and made a little force barrier between his face and hers so that his second glob of spit hit it. Then she focused in.

    Nathanial¡¯s soul was a wild thing. She¡¯d come to start thinking of souls as having different colors and textures. His was like a sea at storm, though the waters of his soul felt more crimson than gray. The rune that was carved into it stood out like a beacon to her.

    There it was, she knew. The Akanans did have a necromancer, and the reason they¡¯d never successfully disabled the trap in the spy¡¯s headquarters was because the soul-magic was completely undetectable by standard arcane magic. Because of that, whoever this necromancer was hadn¡¯t even been particularly subtle. She backed up, keeping her focus on Nathanial¡¯s soul, and found she could sense the rune even ten feet away.

    She thanked Ada, then left the special cells and made her way down to the jail where Idras and the other spies were being held. She didn¡¯t even need to have the guards let her in. From the other side of the cell walls, she could stand and sense their souls. One by one, she let her soul-sense brush by them. Sure enough, each one had the exact same rune embedded in them.

    Not only had she just found the answer, she¡¯d found a way to identify other spies they hadn¡¯t caught.

    ***

    The second breakthrough had been a long time coming.

    ¡°Archmage Luspire,¡± said Mirian, curtsying as he greeted her in his office with the usual crowd. Jei sat at her side, with High Wizard Ferrandus and Luspire¡¯s aides across from them. To Ferrandus she said, ¡°And yes, I do know what you¡¯re going to say,¡± which made Ferrandus recoil visibly. To Luspire, she said, ¡°But not you. Through the cycles, I¡¯ve found certain people who aren¡¯t predictable. Professor Viridian is one. You¡¯re another.¡±

    The archmage tilted his head slightly and his lip twitched with the hint of a suppressed smile. That meant he was interested.

    ¡°Something happened with the Divine Monument. My memories of the first cycle are¡­ fragmented. The Akanans attacked Torrviol, as I said, but the battle went differently than it has all the other times. All I remember was that you were there, and the machine¡­ activated.¡± The part about Viridian was true enough. Luspire, however, was predictable. When she started like this, he liked it, and went from trying to shut her down to listening.

    ¡°So the Monument can move people through time? I must admit, none of our calculations imply such a thing is possible.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right again, which is why I think¡ªwell, I don¡¯t think the Monument is doing it. I think it contacts something else.¡± She let that statement linger. Archmage Luspire didn¡¯t like things being explained to him. But if she gave him just enough information, and he came to the conclusion she wanted¡­.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± Luspire said, and glanced at Ferrandus.

    Ferrandus frowned and shrugged, which meant plausible, maybe. Mapping out their non-verbal communication had taken some doing. Mirian didn¡¯t think she would have even thought of paying such close attention to such details without Nicolus¡¯s book and his own coaching.

    Mirian deployed the final lie she¡¯d been working on. ¡°I¡¯ve been studying the Prophets. They¡¯re all¡­ so different from me. It doesn¡¯t make sense that I was incorporated into the time loop. I think someone else was intended, because as much as I¡¯ve tried, I think this task is beyond me. I want to set things right, but I don¡¯t know enough.¡±

    There. Now it was up to Luspire to reach the conclusion that he so badly wanted to be true. He hated that some random student had been chosen by the Gods, and yet she was irrefutable proof of that. But what if he had always been intended to be the chosen one, and her only purpose was to right that mistake?

    ¡°Well, you probably haven¡¯t had sufficient instruction,¡± Luspire said, not even trying to sound condescending, but it bled into his voice anyways. More, he knew Jei was right there, and that Mirian was acting as her apprentice. It was a nasty thing to say, but it was also exactly what Mirian was hoping for.

    ¡°I¡¯m learning about the Monument as best I can,¡± she said, false dejection hiding her exaltation.

    ¡°And yet, we can do better. Put her on my schedule,¡± Luspire said, then stood while one of his assistants pulled out a ledger.

    ¡°Shall I clear¡ª?¡± the assistant started, but Luspire just waved his hand. The specifics were beneath him.

    High Wizard Ferrandus gave a brief glare at Luspire¡¯s back, then quickly masked it. ¡°I suppose we should bring her up to speed. Professor Jei, this might lead to a reallocation of your duties, you understand?¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Jei said, affect flat as usual.

    ¡°Mirian, someone will be in contact with you concerning your new schedule.¡±

    ¡°Understood. Thank you, High Wizard,¡± she said, and gave another curtsy. Best to keep Ferrandus on her side as best she could.

    When they departed, Mirian said to Jei, ¡°Sorry. You deserve more respect than that.¡±

    Jei shrugged. ¡°What we deserve is rarely what we get. I still understand. This is for a greater purpose. You will do what you must.¡±

    Mirian nodded. ¡°And yet¡­ I hate it. My parents always told me to respect the truth. And it¡¯s not like I haven¡¯t told white lies before, but¡­ this feels different. I¡¯ve never gone into a conversation trying to outright manipulate a person, with my lies all preplanned. It makes me feel dirty.¡±

    ¡°You will do what you must. Just hold on to the purpose behind it. The place in your heart,¡± she said, touching her chest. ¡°And celebrate your victories. You must. They help move you.¡±

    That was true enough. She felt bad for blatantly lying to the Archmage, but at the same time¡ªshe¡¯d done it. She¡¯d gotten Luspire to work with her. The very gates of the Academy lay completely open to her.

    ***

    That High Wizard Ferrandus opened up his personal notes to Mirian was nice. That she suddenly had her own secretary appointed to her was convenient. The real prize, though, was that Archmage Luspire himself started teaching her for an hour each day.

    His instruction was held in Torrian Tower, in a dedicated practice room one floor above his personal quarters. There, two dedicated spell engines created complex shielding around a target area, while another could call up useful diagrams. It also had several luxurious chairs and a small desk that Luspire casually levitated to wherever he needed it. Luspire liked to sit while he taught.

    For all that his condescending attitude was abrasive, Mirian had to admit it was also earned. Medius Luspire had not tripped and stumbled into power. He had encyclopedic knowledge of spells, and had extensively read the research on how to both build auric mana and bolster spell intensity, then put that knowledge into practice.

    For their first meeting, he studied Mirian¡¯s current training regimen and then made several adjustments. Jei¡¯s channeling exercises, he disapproved of. ¡°But I¡¯m sure it can¡¯t hurt,¡± he added. ¡°There is no simple solution to power, in case anyone tries to delude you. You must master every aspect. Focusing on a small subset of spells is a false path that is quick, easy, and ultimately leads to a dead end where that small handful of spells is your end-all be-all.¡± And with that, he handed her a curriculum that involved studying and casting hundreds of different spells across every subschool she¡¯d heard of, and several that she hadn¡¯t heard of.

    ¡°Several of the scribes will help copy the spells you need.¡± Then he leaned back in his chair, staring out the window at Torrviol. ¡°What do you remember?¡± he asked.

    He meant about the fictional first cycle she¡¯d concocted. ¡°Not much. It¡¯s these fragments¡ªbut they¡¯re so incomplete. If only I could piece them together.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Luspire said. ¡°It¡¯s a pity our understanding of the mind is so incomplete. Of course, short-sighted fools banned the most promising magic that might study it.¡±

    That made Mirian¡¯s heart race. Luspire was obviously talking about necromancy. Did he know any? Or did he know anyone that did? Mirian stayed silent.

    ¡°I have some ideas on how it might activate. But they¡¯re risky. And we don¡¯t know what kind of capacity the Monument can handle. But I must have solved it before. But how to recreate the circumstances of the discovery¡­?¡± He pensively stroked his chin. The very model of the contemplative gentleman. Then he turned and smiled at Mirian. ¡°I¡¯m glad you seek to set things right.¡±

    She could see him thinking about what he would do with foreknowledge, already planning all the things he would do. That smile was, frankly, terrifying.

    But Mirian smiled back. ¡°It¡¯s my duty. Not just to Torrviol, but to Baracuel.¡±

    ¡°That it is,¡± he muttered.

    The next day, his lessons pushed her to the brink of exhaustion. The day after that, nearly to collapse.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Archmage Luspire said after their fourth lesson together. ¡°You have potential. It will take some time, I suppose. I wonder how much?¡±

    As long as it takes, Mirian thought. And even though her aura felt like it had been blown about in a storm and even her body ached, she still had a sense of elation walking down the steps of Torrian Tower. Things were falling into place.

 Chapter 78 - The Room of Secrets

    The next cycle, when the Torrviol guard went to raid the spy¡¯s headquarters, Mirian and Jei accompanied them. By now, Mirian knew far too many details about the guards for them to be able to dismiss her, and like with Luspire, she¡¯d had practice navigating the conversations with them. She did the verbal equivalent of strong-arming them into accepting her presence, then helped carefully direct the raid.

    ¡°There,¡± she said after they were past the first trapdoor and the second glyph-trap. She pointed at the nondescript spot on a rug, beneath which was the paving stone with the runes. ¡°Avoid that spot at all costs as we get into the room. There¡¯s a special trap there, completely undetectable by standard divination, and I don¡¯t know how to disable it.¡± No need to tell them about the runes or the possible necromancy connection. And no way was Mirian duplicating an unknown rune and imprinting it on their souls, even if she had the faintest idea how to do that. Mirian had already checked the souls of these guards for that telltale rune last cycle, so she knew they weren¡¯t spies themselves.

    ¡°Then how do we get in?¡± Roland asked. ¡°Is there another secret door?¡±

    Mirian jerked her head at Jei. ¡°Through this wall,¡± she said.

    Jei looked at Mirian, raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and brought out her orb. She started transforming the bricks in the wall, then telekinetically peeled the section away. Several shelves full of paper came with it, splashing across the floor, but the room lay open.

    Her heart raced. No fire. Had they done it?

    She¡¯d never been inside the room before. It was disappointingly typical; it looked just like a small office, complete with organized filing systems.

    ¡°We need to get as many papers as we can to Magistrate Ada¡¯s office. Which is hopefully all of them. This building is still rigged to burn.¡±

    Mirian tried the drawers in the large wooden desk and found them locked. She didn¡¯t bother picking them; it would take too much time. Instead, she used force spells to crack open the drawers, tearing apart the wood. Bottles of magical ink and scribing tools clattered onto the floor. She rooted through the rest of it, finding more arcane materials, but not what she was looking for. Mirian had scribed several divination spells already, and deployed those now; a refined version of the detect passages spell she¡¯d started using so long ago.

    A faint glow settled in on the back of the desk. There seemed no way to access it. Likely, there was some secret switch or sliding compartment. Mirian didn¡¯t bother looking for it. She tore the entire top of the desk off.

    Jei said, ¡°Good channeling efficiency and precise force application. You have been practicing.¡±

    Mirian smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve had a good teacher.¡± Inside the desk, she could now see the small mechanism that protected the hidden compartment. Inside that compartment was a small, ornate chest, about two handspans wide, and half as long. The chest was wooden, with silver bands wrapped around it. The dark wood was carved with swirls and whorls reminiscent of the statues in the Luminate Temple. When she attempted to rip it open with magic, the spell¡¯s energy dissipated like it had just hit an especially strong aura. Interesting, she thought.

    ¡°Try to open it,¡± she told Jei.

    Jei¡¯s spell also fizzled. She tried again, pouring enough power into the spell that Mirian felt the flow of mana through the air near her. Again, the same result. ¡°That must be studied,¡± she said.

    Mirian didn¡¯t need any convincing. The guards had called a wagon to transport all the papers to the magistrate. She tucked the chest under her arm, and followed the guards as they headed to Ada¡¯s office.

    ***

    It didn¡¯t take long for them for their bounty of papers to yield results. Most of the documents didn¡¯t even need Jei¡¯s algorithm to be deciphered, just a simple translation.

    ¡°Gods above,¡± Magistrate Ada breathed as she started sorting through them. ¡°This is everything. This is¡­ everyone. I¡¯ve never seen such a well documented scheme.¡±

    Ada¡¯s self-control was usually unflappable, but as they continued going through names and documents, Mirian watched her fingers start to shake. She could see why. Mayor Wolden wasn¡¯t the only official implicated. Several professors and city councilors, a dozen well-regarded merchants, and half the Torrviol guard were implicated. All of them had either been blackmailed, intimidated, or bribed. The spiderweb had wrapped around the entire economic and political power apparatus of Torrviol. Mirian even recognized a Bainrose librarian¡¯s name on a list of bribed officials. There was also an ominous note, unsigned, that read ¡®I¡¯ll take care of the Archmage.¡¯

    Mirian hardly had to manipulate Ada; with so many people implicated, she needed someone who she could trust, and Mirian was the obvious choice. Mirian recruited her Eskanar language tutor extra to come help decode the documents, which Ada paid the woman for. The tutor had no soul-mark, and didn¡¯t seem to be one of the targets.

    While Ada¡¯s office worked on the translation and documentation, Mirian worked on studying the strange chest they¡¯d found. They kept it in the Magistrate¡¯s Building, with guards on the lookout for anyone that might come to try and retrieve it. It was clear to her the box was using some form of soul-magic, and while she helped ward the room with arcane glyphs, she knew those glyphs might very well be useless at stopping celestial divination magic¡ªif such a thing existed.

    Her attempt to use Xipuatl¡¯s Elder reliquary failed utterly. The runes he had taught her were insufficient for affecting the chest in any way, though it was interesting to try to analyze it. As far as she could tell, there was mana inside the material of the chest, somehow, not in a flow-state.

    ¡°Another thing that contradicts the standard theories,¡± Xipuatl noted. ¡°I wonder how many people know how to do something like¡­ this.¡±

    Mirian contemplated the chest. The silver bands were not actually made of silver, but some other metal she couldn¡¯t identify. ¡°It doesn¡¯t look ancient. But maybe it came out of the Labyrinth?¡±

    ¡°Either way, it should have been a discovery presented to the wizards of Baracuel, not hidden away for whatever nefarious purpose.¡±

    With magic unable to open it, Mirian brought the chest down to the crafting center, where Ingrid could help her use more mundane ways to crack it open. She made sure to have an escort while moving the chest around; she still didn¡¯t have any idea what the Impostor did during the cycle. So far, nothing she¡¯d done had brought her out of the shadows, but Mirian suspected that if successfully cracking open the spy¡¯s headquarters didn¡¯t lure her out, nothing would.

    First, they tried chiseling open the gap between the lid and the body of the chest so they could fit a bar in and lever it open. However, the chisel only sparked and blunted as they hammered it in, and it would neither fit in the gap nor damage the wood enough to make one.

    The band saw broke trying to cut the chest open, sending out a shard of metal that nearly hit Ingrid. With the drill press, Jei and Mirian maintained force shields around the device while Ingrid lowered the machine down. The drill scuffed the hells out of it, but it also made a horrible screeching noise and started melting the drill bit, so they stopped.

    Ingrid, now more determined than ever to get it open, next suggested they make the chest cold. Since they couldn¡¯t use magic on the chest directly, Jei and Mirian worked together to use heat displacement spells to get a bath of water below freezing, with a special mixture of salts keeping the water from actually turning solid. Then dunked the chest in there, let the metal turn brittle, then set it on the anvil press.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    The anvil press did the trick.

    As the pressure increased, the silver bands groaned, then cracked apart. Mirian jumped back as cobalt flames engulfed the chest.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Jei asked.

    It took Mirian a moment to realize no one else could see the flames. She still had Xipuatl¡¯s Elder reliquary with her. ¡°The soul-magic is doing something,¡± she whispered to her. Gingerly, she put her hand towards those flames, then snatched it back when she felt the burn. Not on her flesh; she¡¯d glimpsed the flames searing the weave of her soul, and felt a sensation like no other. Whatever it was, it couldn¡¯t be good. ¡°Stay back from it. Some sort of spell. It looks like an enchantment undergoing rapid exomagical decay, though.¡±

    Gradually, the ghostly flames subsided. The wood was no longer dark, but bleached and yellowed like a rotten tooth. ¡°I think it¡¯s safe now. Those silver bands¡ªthey were some sort of binding agent. Like a Girad sequence for stabilizing flux glyphs,¡± Mirian told Jei. She wondered if celestial runes had their own stable and unstable runes.

    The lock was still intact, so Jei used a shape wood spell, and this time, there was no magical resistance to stop it. The wood split apart into thin tendrils, revealing the contents of the chest.

    Inside were three small myrvite skulls. Each had been engraved with what Mirian was sure were runes, so that tight bands of writing criss-crossed the heads and jawbones. Next to them was a wand. The strange texture and color of the wood reminded her of Xipuatl¡¯s Elder reliquary.

    ¡°Necromancy,¡± muttered Ingrid, and made a holy sign against evil.

    The problem was, Mirian had opened the chest in public, so there was no hiding the contents. Ingrid had immediately summoned Magistrate Ada, and Ada demanded it be locked away.

    ¡°I understand you¡¯re a¡­ you have extra knowledge. Maybe future knowledge. An undeclared Prophet, I don¡¯t know, but I can¡¯t make an exception,¡± Magistrate Ada told her when she protested. ¡°Studying necromancy is illegal. This thing must stay locked up here.¡±

    Mirian argued the point briefly, then accepted the verdict. She knew where it was. She knew how to open it. There was always next cycle. She would figure out how it worked.

    ***

    Near the end of the cycle, Mirian was lying in bed with Nicolus, staring up at the ceiling while Nicolus read his uncle¡¯s latest letter. Nurea had just handed him the letter, then left. It had taken Mirian a bit to get used to Sire Nurea walking in on them, completely unimpressed by whatever state she found them in, but apparently she was used to this sort of thing. Minus the time travel, of course.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­ blah blah blah it¡¯s actually from him, here we go, the interesting part. The investigator he hired¡ªeugh. Dead. Had his tongue cut out too. Wow, these guys are serious. I mean, of course they¡¯re serious, they¡¯ve got wealth that makes the Palamas family look like paupers. But someone is watching their backs, too. How many times have we tried to get information on this business magnate?¡±

    ¡°Three times,¡± Mirian said absentmindedly. She hadn¡¯t expected a different outcome. She¡¯d memorized a list of names of Akanans who had foreknowledge of the assassination, but had learned nothing real about them except that Nicolus¡¯s uncle was in the circles of a bunch of very wealthy Akanans. He¡¯d actually seen Sylvester Aurum, the richest man in the world, at one of the parties. The people she was trying to get information on were relatively smaller players, though they were still richer than any one individual in the Sacristar family. Uncle Alexus had sent them plenty of cryptic comments by these people that were incredibly suspicious, but had gotten nothing else.

    Nicolus said something else, but Mirian¡¯s mind continued to wander. ¡°What kind of person will I become?¡± she asked the ceiling.

    ¡°Whoever you want to be,¡± Nicolus said, only hesitating a moment.

    ¡°Can I, though? I don¡¯t want to be a liar and a manipulator, yet here I am, lying to the Archmage himself, trying to move your Uncle about like a board game piece.¡± And getting Valen to do whatever I want, because every cycle start she¡¯s still smitten with me. And it¡¯s easy now, especially now that I know what she likes. But she didn¡¯t say that thought out loud.

    Nicolus was silent for a while, then he said, ¡°Those are the traits that society selects for. Like how we were talking about Sylvester Aurum. He¡¯s smart, sure, but imagine if he refused to manipulate people on principle. No one would know his name. People who are too honest are too willing to charge a fair price, and a fair price never made anyone into a fossilized myrvite mogul. He had to be absolutely ruthless when he was acquiring his competition, because there¡¯s certain character traits that get you power, and certain character traits that don¡¯t. At least, the way things are.¡±

    Mirian sneered. ¡°That¡¯s from that damn book.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. But he¡¯s not wrong. Imagine the most honest, kind person in the universe,¡± he said.

    ¡°Grandpa Irabi,¡± Mirian said instantly.

    ¡°Great. And is he ever going to be rich or powerful? Is he ever going to rule the world?¡±

    ¡°No chance at all. But he should. That¡¯s what I¡¯ll do. Reinstate the monarchy and name him King Irabi.¡±

    Nicolus laughed and put his arm around her. ¡°You know, that wouldn¡¯t be so bad. That¡¯s one thing I¡¯ve started wondering about, you know. See, under ordinary circumstances, people are constrained by historical circumstance. We make the best choices we can, but those choices only come once, and we can never go back to them. But you¡­.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian said, liking the way his arm felt around her. She had a list of spells to practice and a meeting with Mayor Ethwarn later, but she just wanted to lie there, maybe all day. You could, she told herself. There¡¯s always next cycle. But something in her wouldn¡¯t let her. Too much was at stake. She could glut herself on free time, but it felt wrong to waste it when she didn¡¯t know how much she had left. Still, it was nice to take these moments.

    Naturally, that meant Nurea burst in again. ¡°Mirian, Captain Cassius wants to see you. The militia found something as they were working on the perimeter defenses out in the forest. Something Cassius was pretty sure you¡¯ve never mentioned.¡±

    Mirian closed her eyes, just for a moment. Shit, she thought. ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    They dressed quickly, with Nicolus tagging along because he was curious.

    Cassius met her near the dorms, where several students were working under a militia volunteer to dig yet another trench west of the hills. ¡°It¡¯s several miles past the spellward,¡± Cassius said. ¡°I assume you know nothing of that area.¡±

    ¡°Correct,¡± Mirian said, wondering what her old combat magic professor thought of her. Throughout the cycles, he had stayed reserved; a committed patriot for Baracuel, and serious in everything. What would it take to get you to open up? What might you tell me? she wondered, and disliked the thought, because it felt like she was thinking about him the same way she¡¯d thought about that secret chest she¡¯d found with the wand and the skulls in it.

    They walked quickly, but it still took quite some time to get there, winding through a makeshift trail while the trees loomed over them. Several militia members were standing around what they¡¯d found, and what they¡¯d found was impossible to mistake.

    Mirian¡¯s heart raced. ¡°Is that an airship?¡±

    It was about twenty feet long, the wooden hull reinforced with a whitish metal she assumed was titanium, since that¡¯s what she¡¯d heard they reinforced airships with. It had a small cabin, with room for supplies and the pilot seat and not much else. This was like the other ones she¡¯d seen in Baracuel, and nothing like the titanic warships that would be coming in a few days. Its long slender wings folded to the side, the fabric that connected each skeletal pole hanging loosely. A branch was firmly wedged in one of the wings, probably from when it descended through the canopy. The whole thing was covered in pine needles.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Cassius said. ¡°Akanan design. Sadly, it appears to be missing its most interesting components. The levitation enchantments have been stripped, the fuel is used up, and the spell engine is missing its glyphic core. Completely unusable without them. But very interesting. It seems to have been sitting here for some weeks.¡±

    How many weeks? Mirian immediately wondered. Would the airship be here already when the cycle started? Or had something she¡¯d done caused it to appear? She wracked her mind for what she would have done. It was an Akanan airship. She wasn¡¯t interacting with them.

    Except you are, she remembered. As the spies were captured, one could have easily sent off a zephyr falcon back home and triggered some sort of response. It could easily be something the Impostor had requested. Or, it might even be someone figuring out that Nicolus¡¯s uncle was being suspicious, and deciding to check up on his family members. Or maybe it was always here.

    Either way, there was another player in this game of war and death she hadn¡¯t accounted for.

 Chapter 79 - Reconnaissance

    The next cycle, Mirian rushed to the site of the airship. It was empty. She set alarm wards down in the area, but by the end of that loop, they¡¯d never triggered. Militia scouts didn¡¯t encounter it there, or in any other part of the forest near Torrviol they investigated.

    ¡°Maybe they land somewhere random each time, based on a whim. Maybe even small changes in how the spies are captured or how we word the letter to your uncle shifts things. Damn! How do I recreate the circumstances when I don¡¯t even know?¡± Mirian ranted one evening to Nicolus.

    Nicolus didn¡¯t say anything, because he quickly learned each cycle that Mirian just liked to vent her frustration sometimes.

    ¡°I¡¯ll narrow down the possibilities. We¡¯ll try wording the letter to your uncle exactly the same next cycle, and see what kind of variations that brings. Thanks.¡±

    ¡°Happy to help,¡± Nicolus said, still lounging in his chair, snacking on an exotic cheese. ¡°How¡¯s that training with Luspire going? Still extremely weird to watch the shy girl with anxiety suddenly casting spells with the big mage-man himself.¡±

    ¡°Miserable. I never worked this hard for classes, I just thought I did. His theory is by casting a wide enough array of spells, the brain creates new conceptualizations that make casting any spell easier, because the subconscious mind is making connections, even if the conscious mind is overwhelmed by the information.¡±

    Nicolus nodded. ¡°That¡¯s a lot of fancy words.¡±

    Mirian leaned over and punched him lightly in the shoulder. While Nicolus pretended to be grievously injured, she said, ¡°Anyways, it means on any given day I¡¯m casting one hundred different spells in practice cycles. The Academy scribes keep getting these looks of total dread every time Luspire walks in to tell them what he wants in my spellbook next. Or rather, my second spellbook, he filled the first one.¡±

    ¡°Is it working?¡±

    ¡°I think so. Something is working. Most of my spells are measuring at 60 myr on the tri-point energy meter. That¡¯s non-fire spells, by the way, because fire spells are always measured at a higher relative output so Luspire¡¯s assistant isn¡¯t including them in the average.¡±

    ¡°Oh. That¡¯s pretty good. What¡¯d you start at?¡±

    ¡°I was topping out around 36 myr with my best spell. That was embarrassing.¡±

    Nicolus raised his eyebrows. ¡°Wow. That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s a hell of an improvement. You¡¯ve been at this for just over two years? That still puts you in apprentice territory, but that¡¯s what your average certified mage hits. Why the focus on power, though? It seems like a knowledge problem.¡±

    Mirian looked out the window, remembering the fleet of fishing boats packed with civilians as they crossed the lake, only to be vaporized. ¡°Because it¡¯s the battle that I think is critical. I can stop the Akanans from destroying the Divine Monument. I just need to get on one of the airships.¡±

    She watched as Nicolus¡¯s face shifted through three different expressions. Then he said, ¡°Ohhh! That¡¯s why you want the Eskanar lessons. The ships must take off from somewhere, right? You can sneak aboard before they do.¡±

    ¡°Sort of. But not quite,¡± Mirian said.

    ***

    The first night of the battle, Mirian dipped out of the command center and walked to the gardens by the Myrvite Studies building, just south of the forward trenches. She¡¯d already said her goodbyes to her friends, and had told Luspire she was buying him more time to get the Monument working.

    Likely, the battle would go far worse this time because she wasn¡¯t helping organize the critical actions in the Underground, but it would be worth it in the end.

    It was dark in the gardens, except for the occasional flash of light from the fighting. The gardens themselves were still and empty. She shed her cloak and changed clothes, the night air chilling her as she did. The Akanan uniform she put on wasn¡¯t a perfect match, as it was the work of one of the local tailors referencing an out-of-date book on military dress and Mirian¡¯s half-remembered descriptions of the uniforms she¡¯d seen on the airship. It wouldn¡¯t hold up to close scrutiny, but it would reduce the amount of mana she¡¯d need to use in her illusion spell, and that was key, because she was about to burn a lot of mana.

    In her left hand, she held a mana elixir. In her right, the wand of levitation.

    Mirian channeled, and felt that exhilarating vertigo as her feet left the ground. The wind tore at her with freezing claws. Her hands felt like they¡¯d been dipped in ice water, but the elation overcame it as she flew up. A thousand feet up, the view of the battle was heart-stopping. All across the miles of front around Torrviol, she could see spells and shells splashing bursts of light around the battlefield.

    She changed the angle of her wand slightly so that her flight path took her northwest, over the Akanan lines. Even in the dark sky, with the clouds hanging low, the Akanan airships stood out because of their sheer size. That, and the flashes of the guns as they came in for another bombardment. A flash of light illuminated the hull of the lead ship. Both began to curve across the sky as Mirian approached, rising fast.

    She could feel her aura stripping itself bare, and popped open the stopper of her elixir and gulped it down as fast as she could. It was more difficult than she¡¯d anticipated, and the wind splashed some of it in her face. As it did, her flight path changed as her right hand moved slightly. Mirian was relying on inertia to help her reach the airship, but it also made her flight harder to control. She adjusted as best she could, aiming to land at the rear of the second airship. Hopefully, this was the ship without Marshal Cearsia.

    As she approached the deck though, Mirian realized she was coming in way too fast. Desperately, she tried to correct her course, but with her aura nearly depleted, she found it impossible to put out enough force. Panicked, she redirected the angle of the wand, but then she was flying too low. She slammed into the side of the airship¡ª

    ***

    ¡ªand woke up in her bed, the ceiling dripping.

    The next time she tried it, she adjusted her angle, and brought along a feather landing wand, a spell that used overlapping force shields to cushion falls, and adjusted her angle. She still came in way too fast, smashing into the aft deck like an incompetent meteor. The force cushion bounced her off a wall, which let her tumble down from the second deck to the main deck, banging her shin on something metal at some point in the jumbled tumble.

    Hissing in pain, she stashed the levitation wand and pulled out her minor disguise wand. She¡¯d worked with Professor Marva to get the details on looking more Akanan right. A subtle shift in skin tone, a slight change in facial structure, and making her hair dirty blond did the trick. She checked herself in a pocket mirror, then stood and dusted herself off, just as two crew members rounded the corner.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± the first man said.

    ¡°Sorry. Bit embarrassing, I tripped,¡± she said in Eskanar.

    The second man looked up at the walkway. ¡°From there? Do you need medical attention?¡±

    ¡°No, no, I¡¯m fine. I got lucky, I know that could have gone a lot worse.¡±

    She expected them to interrogate her, and she¡¯d have to deploy her story about being new to the airship, and also her family was from west Akana Praediar hence the accent, but they just told her to be more careful and went back to their duties. Either spotting or maintenance, she thought. Her nighttime flight had another advantage: most people were below decks. No one wanted to be up top where the freezing winds scoured away all the heat unless they had to. Clearly, they hadn¡¯t seen her come in. Hopefully, no one had.

    Mirian¡¯s instinct was to slouch and keep her head down, but Marva had coached her to keep her head high and act like she belonged, so she tried to do that, correcting her posture when she noticed herself slipping. Mirian had no information about the airship, and Nicolus¡¯s uncle hadn¡¯t been able to get them anything, so her plan was to just figure out how it worked.

    Mirian strode to the nearest stairwell and headed below decks to find out what she could.

    ***

    Getting caught, when it didn¡¯t involve the bridge and Marshal Cearsia, usually meant being thrown in the brig. She actually preferred getting tossed overboard, because that was fast, whereas in the brig she languished for a day or two until the Akanans blew up the Monument and the airships fell from the sky. The anticipation of waiting for that death, knowing it was soon, was miserable.

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    Over the course of six more cycles, Mirian continued to map out the Akanan Dreadnought Class airships. Republic¡¯s Justice was the airship she usually landed on, and it had the benefit of not having Marshal Cearsia on it. The Might of Liberty was the flagship, and the crew was more alert and had better wards up. They usually caught her within hours of her landing, whereas the other ship¡¯s less disciplined crew often let her wander about for a whole day.

    The process of learning the ship had sped up considerably when Mirian ate lunch with one of the engineers on the Republic¡¯s Justice who kept trying to flirt with her. Mirian managed to talk her way into having him show her a schematic of the ship, complete with neatly labeled decks.

    Once she knew where to find things, she spent more time in command and control, and more time mapping out what the colossal spell engines on the ships did. She memorized glyph sequences, though at this point, she could read arcane glyphs better than she could read Eskanar. Here, a conduit sequence. There, a heat regulation ward. She learned the divisions on board, and got better at pretending to be a maintenance mage.

    How the airship actually stayed up continued to elude her. The engine room had its own security detail overlooking it, and asking about that security protocol or how the ship worked immediately made her look suspicious.

    When she got caught, she spent the time in the brig repeating what she¡¯d learned in her mind, connecting it to previous knowledge, and then sequestering it away in that strange mental dreamscape where the Ominian¡¯s empty eyes watched over her.

    ***

    The second spy¡¯s name was Ayland. He spoke almost no Friian or Cuelsin, so their conversation was entirely in Eskanar. Getting him to talk once he was captured took some doing. She finally found the way to do it was to start talking about her own life, and then mention her frustration with the corruption of the guard and the double-agent Impostor who was still eluding her.

    ¡°It¡¯s not just your own spy agencies,¡± he finally said one day. ¡°The RID has its own¡­ problems.¡±

    Learning that the Republic Intelligence Division was just called by its acronym had gotten Mirian into hot water on the airship. There were all sorts of little details for sounding like a native speaker that she was learning. ¡°Yeah?¡± she said casually, because casual was the way to go to get him to say anything.

    ¡°I found out this project is off the books, you know. Operations are supposed to have chain of command you can follow. Only, there¡¯s missing links. I sent some memos about my concerns with the operation, because it violated protocol. When I was last at RID headquarters in Vadriach, I looked for the memos. They were supposed to be in the records department. Records department had no communications coming out of Torrviol. Then I got a letter from my mom, saying some strange people had visited the house and talked about the patriotic work I was doing. I got the message.¡±

    It set the record for the most consecutive sentences Ayland had ever said to her. ¡°Well¡­ wait. Then who¡¯s running this operation?¡±

    Ayland shrugged. ¡°It was made clear to me this operation was too¡­ delicate. So they won¡¯t tell me. A security risk if I got captured. I told Idras. He brushed me aside. I don¡¯t think he was part of it, I think he doesn¡¯t like to think about it. Makes him question too many things he believes. Specter, though, she knows.¡±

    The Imposter. Still hiding in the shadows after all this time. ¡°Whoever she is, either the Department of Public Security doesn¡¯t know, or just won¡¯t say. But what if¡­ what if they have their own rogue operation?¡±

    Ayland shrugged again. He did a lot of shrugging. ¡°Our governments work very closely. Before I was transferred here, I worked in the same building as Baracuel agents in Persama. I¡¯d be more surprised if they didn¡¯t.¡±

    Maybe that explained why Magistrate Ada kept running into a brick wall when she tried to get the Deeps to come up and deal with the problem. They stonewalled and delayed endlessly. Maybe this had to do with what Nicolus kept talking about when he mentioned ¡®motivated incompetence.¡¯ If there were people in the Deeps who were also part of this, they wouldn¡¯t want any of it to see daylight. But why would they want war between the countries?

    ¡°Another layer. Always another layer,¡± she muttered.

    Ayland shrugged.

    ***

    They were in Xipuatl¡¯s meditation chamber, with the door closed. This time, Mirian had covered the ornate chest with a small cloth as she loaded it onto the cart taking away the spies¡¯ things, then snuck it out in an over-sized satchel she¡¯d purchased when no one was paying attention.

    Xipuatl looked at the wand and three skulls with more than a little apprehension. He¡¯d reluctantly agreed to host her efforts to understand it, but was clearly having second thoughts. ¡°You realize these are definitely the tools of a necromancer, right Mirian?¡± he finally said. ¡°And not, ¡®technically necromancy because the Luminates declared all forms of soul magic as necromancy after the Unification War¡¯ necromancy, but actual necromancy?¡±

    ¡°The Impostor is clearly using soul magic. I have to know how it works,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Yeah. And if you fuck up your soul with that thing, does the time loop fix that?¡±

    Mirian¡¯s mouth grew dry. She was pretty sure it didn¡¯t, given that her soul damage from mana elixir overuse had transferred between cycles. I have to figure it out. Too much was at stake for her to shy away from this, no matter how dangerous it might be.

    Mirian closed her eyes and laid her hand gently on the strange wand. The first thing she found was that the wand had a different feel to it than Xipuatl¡¯s reliquary. If connecting to his Elder reliquary was like walking through the deep shadows of a forest, connecting to this one was like passing through a dark field in a fog.

    She tried using it to connect to one of Xipuatl¡¯s myrvite plants, like she had a hundred times before with the other reliquary, but was broken out of her focus state by how intensely difficult it felt. Not only could she not reach out to the plant¡¯s soul, she could barely even perceive it.

    Xipuatl¡¯s soul, however, blazed bright, far brighter than it usually did. When she explained this to him, he said, ¡°I didn¡¯t know the Elder reliquaries could be different. All the ones in Tlaxhuaco are like mine.¡±

    As for the skulls, there seemed little Mirian could figure out. The runes were all unfamiliar, and they seemed to need the soul energy of something other than a plant to work. At least one of them probably helped create the strange imprinted symbols on the souls of the spies, which implied the spell also needed a human soul as a target.

    That, she was profoundly uncomfortable with. Mirian had grown up listening to the sermons of the Luminate Temple, and desecration of the soul was one of the great sins.

    They ended up buying a pair of chickens from the market to experiment on; one to act as the soul powering the spell, and the other to act as the target. However, this magic was completely outside Xipuatl¡¯s expertise, and with no idea how to link the energy flows of the runes on the skulls, or how to properly channel the soul energy, the chickens ended up entirely unharmed. After several frustrating hours, Mirian gave up. Trying to figure out soul magic from pure experimentation might work eventually, but it would be slow. She had the tools now, but she needed to find a proper teacher, one whose expertise went beyond plants.

    ***

    As the 28th of Solem came, once again Mirian found herself looking over a map of the battle with General Hanaran.

    Already, the Akanan attack was bogged down. ¡°They¡¯ll try to spearhead here,¡± Mirian said, pointing at a section in the forest. ¡°At the same time, they¡¯ll put heavy pressure south to try and encircle our forces north.¡±

    Hanaran and her subordinates all had that look to them again, the one that radiated discomfort, skepticism, and fear all at once. Mirian had to remind herself that this was all new to them, and once again they were coming to terms with their existential crises.

    Mirian looked at them, and with as much righteous fury as she could muster said, ¡°This is the one where we win,¡± not because she believed it, but because she¡¯d found it helped settle their dread and focus on the battle. To one of Hanaran¡¯s officers, she said, ¡°Do you have a levitation corps?¡±

    The officer cleared his throat and looked to Hanaran, who nodded.

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°They deployed south to hit Rambalda though.¡±

    Mirian scowled. ¡°To fight Persama? The revolt is suppressed. It should already be won.¡±

    ¡°So you¡¯ve said,¡± Hanaran said. ¡°And yet, my division was almost called down before we got word of the crisis in Torrviol, and that was before Akanan forces started helping them. The reports I heard were that every garrison is hard pressed, and the enemy relentless. If we win here, my orders are to immediately send half of my division to reinforce Alkazaria.¡±

    That gave Mirian pause. She clearly remembered reading about the southern revolt being subdued, and several of the Persaman leaders executed. But that had been a public paper, right before information from the south ceased. Had it just been propaganda to assuage fears? Had there been a renewal of the attack she had never heard of? Or was she drawing enough Baracuel forces north that the southern attack became more effective? Either way, this is the critical battle. If there was still a crisis in the south when she won, she¡¯d deal with it later. Assuming there is a later. But stopping the Divine Monument from being destroyed still seemed like the best bet for stopping whatever was happening to the leylines, and then she just had to hope that was connected to the moon.

    ¡°Am I wrong?¡± General Hanaran asked.

    Mirian shook her head. ¡°I may have been given inaccurate information about that. It hasn¡¯t been my focus, for obvious reasons. The magical eruptions are connected to what happens here. If we fail, they get a lot worse.¡±

    ¡°Worse? There was a town south of Palendurio that was simply wiped off the map!¡± one of the officers said.

    ¡°Worse,¡± Mirian acknowledged.

    ¡°Are there¡­ more of these Monuments?¡± another asked.

    ¡°I think so. And I think one getting destroyed in Akana is what sets off the initial eruptions.¡± It was pure speculation, but she said it confidently because projecting confidence made people trust her in other aspects. ¡°Anyways, you can move the 34th arcanist brigade north along this route¡ªthey¡¯ve left a gap in their lines¡ªand hit a convoy of supply wagons that are undefended, then pull them back to here, where they can reinforce the 5th artillery.¡±

    She could see it all in her mind¡¯s eye. And soon enough, she¡¯d be flying up to board the Republic¡¯s Justice again.

    When there was a lull in the strategic planning, Mirian pulled aside one of the logistics assistants and asked, ¡°How would I go about requisitioning more levitation wands?¡±

 Chapter 80 - Retaliation

    On the 10th of Solem, on the 48th cycle, Mirian began to assemble her assault team. She sat down with Professor Torres and showed her the schematics she¡¯d been working on. The blueprint of the airship was covered in notes and shorthand for glyph sequences.

    Professor Torres sat there, stunned. ¡°This is incredible,¡± she said.

    ¡°You helped me put it together.¡±

    ¡°But you did this from memory.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Tell me about it. If I never map Rodgier conduit networks to Leishire binding sequences again, it will be too soon. Obviously, this isn¡¯t the whole thing, which is insanely more complex, and they¡¯ve still never let me near the engine room, but it has what we need. Communications and steering. These are the key systems you¡¯ll be modifying,¡± she said, and pointed out several labeled spell engines and conduits. ¡°We¡¯ll have several hours to work, but the longer it takes, the more we risk capture.¡±

    Torres looked at her. ¡°The plan, frankly, sounds insane.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fair,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Jei and I will help install the modifications. You¡¯ll need to pre-prepare the artifice we need.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m still teaching classes,¡± Torres said.

    ¡°After I talk to the Archmage, classes will be canceled on the 20th. That gives you seven full days to prepare, and feel free to half-ass your lessons. Everyone will understand soon enough. Don¡¯t talk to Luspire though. He¡¯s¡­ volatile. But I need him.¡±

    Torres shook her head. ¡°You were so normal when I taught you two weeks ago.¡±

    Mirian smiled. ¡°A lot has changed for me since then. I have to go. I have more people to talk to.¡±

    ¡°Who else?¡± Torres said.

    ¡°The master illusionist, Professor Marva. They¡¯ll make sure no one questions us while we¡¯re aboard.¡±

    She left Torres to look over the blueprints, and headed to Castner Hall.

    ***

    On the 26th of Solem, they found the damned airship that had been eluding Mirian hidden in the forest again, but this time it was five miles north of the spellward. Captain Moliner found it by accident as they were preparing terrain for the skirmishing team that would be hiding in the north forest. A divination spell they were using to double check the defensive wards they¡¯d be retreating to picked up something strange, and when they investigated, there it was.

    It had been several cycles since Mirian had bothered directing the militia that far north. Once the Akana army was fully deployed on the 2nd of Duala, they would circle around to hit the rear of the Akanan convoy. Mirian hadn¡¯t bothered using that particular tactic recently because she¡¯d already established it worked, and the prior teams had never seen the airship.

    ¡°Of course, it¡¯s a small airship, so it¡¯s almost entirely chance we found it,¡± Moliner told her.

    Mirian looked over the small craft. There was a wyvern corpse next to it, and it still had a mouthful of conduit crystal it had been tearing out of the ship to eat when it had been discovered.

    Captain Moliner could tell something was wrong, probably because Mirian was grinding her jaw and scowling. ¡°Have you¡­ seen this before? Does this change our plan?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen a variation of it. No change to the plan,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Any indication of where the pilot went? Anything they left over?¡±

    ¡°If they left anything, the wyverns ate it first. It¡¯s been thoroughly stripped, probably by the pilot, because the glyphcore appears to be missing. Unless these wyverns knew how to use a screwdriver¡­¡±

    Mirian stopped paying attention because she¡¯d heard it all before. She¡¯d tried to replicate the circumstances with Nicolus, then again with how the spies were captured to see if either one was causing the airship to be sent. In the end, she decided it was a Viridian-type, an unpredictable variable that she would never pin down with certainty. Since it didn¡¯t seem to affect the information the Akanan army was getting, she¡¯d been ignoring it; she was busy enough with Luspire¡¯s training, investigating soul-magic, and masterminding the defense of Torrviol. Now she was wondering if that was a mistake.

    As far as she could ascertain, whatever ridiculous conspiracy was going on in Akana Praediar was impossible for her to stop. There were too many people involved, and she still didn¡¯t understand how they were involved or who had actually recruited the assassin. Alerting Uncle Alexus to the assassination of the Prime Minister did nothing to stop it, and usually just got him killed. It would be far simpler to win the battle here. It would be extremely useful to be able to have such an airship, because then she could just get to Palendurio or even Vadriach in a day or two, but right now it seemed like a waste of time. For all she knew, the airship pilot had been eaten by a bog lion anyways.

    ¡°What should we do about it?¡± Moliner finally asked to break the silence.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Mirian said.

    That night, though, she had a new dream. She was kneeling in front of the statue of the Ominian again, the grand sanctum of the Mausoleum looming above her, but unlike all the other times, she wasn¡¯t alone. Some four dozen others knelt, their faces and bodies obscured by the deep folds of robes and cowls.

    Who are you? she said, or maybe thought; no sound carried in this room. Whenever she walked through it, she felt her footsteps, but they were always silent. The figures turned to her, but their faces were empty. She turned to the Ominian, and the statue¡¯s head was looking down at her. Its empty eyes bore into her, and she knew its gaze could see through her very bones.

    She alone rose to stand before it. I¡¯m almost there, she told it.

    It only stared, the silence in the hall deepening.

    ***

    ¡°Another successful withdrawal,¡± one of General Hanaran¡¯s colonels reported. It was the evening of the 3rd of Duala. ¡°The enemy is now hesitant to move forward.¡±

    Mirian turned to the General, who as usual at this point in the battle was looking at Mirian with something between respect and fear. Hanaran said, ¡°We¡¯ve had no reports from the northern strike team. Have they disrupted the Akanan logistics?¡±

    ¡°They have,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Marshal Cearsia will next prepare a desperate thrust into the center to reach the Underground. Harass the southern and eastern Akanan lines as they withdraw, then let them overextend into the trap.¡± She turned to look at the militia members. Valen stood beside Captain Moliner. She was scared, Mirian knew, but determined. She was the perfect person to help lead the defense of the Underground; after all, Mirian had nearly the full month to prepare her. ¡°Start deploying to the tunnels. This is the one we win.¡±

    When she said it this time, there was no false conviction. She meant it. Both Valen and Moliner saluted her and left.

    Hanaran said, ¡°As long as the Akanans have those airships, there¡¯s no way we can cut them off. Every time we push a front, they¡¯re the only thing preventing us from reaching a breakthrough.¡±

    ¡°You have the levitation wands?¡± she asked one of the lieutenants.

    ¡°Yes, ah¡­ sir?¡± He was at a loss for titles. The man presented a box to her.

    ¡°Good. I¡¯ll take them now. In a few hours, they¡¯ll be taken care of.¡±

    General Hanaran shook her head. ¡°The airships? You¡¯re actually serious. When you first described your plan¡­ but now I think you have a chance. Ominian watch over us.¡±

    ¡°He is. Watch for the signal,¡± Mirian said, then headed for the Monument. She wound down the now familiar staircases and halls and through the security door.

    Archmage Luspire was in front of the Monument, raised hand trembling as he channeled into it. ¡°Damn. Damn! I was sure it would work,¡± he said.

    Mirian strode up behind him. ¡°You need more time. Days, not hours.¡±

    ¡°But I did it before!¡± he snapped. ¡°You told me I did!¡±

    ¡°In circumstances we can¡¯t recreate. But you know how close you are. If the Akanans reach this room though, they¡¯ll do so with overwhelming force. We can stop them before that. Make them pay for what they¡¯ve done to Torrviol.¡±

    Archmage Luspire turned to look at her, face a mix of wild emotions he was barely containing.

    ¡°Marshal Cearsia is in command of the airship.¡±

    It was fury that emerged as the victor in the Archmage¡¯s emotions. ¡°Damn her,¡± he snarled. ¡°After everything I gave her. You have¡­?¡±

    Mirian handed him a levitation wand.

    ¡°Of course. My best prepared student.¡±

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    She smiled at him. ¡°You¡¯ll need to carry three, plus the artifice Torres has prepared. Marva doesn¡¯t have the spellpower, and we¡¯ll want Torres to be fresh.¡±

    ¡°To plan B, then,¡± Luspire said, and they moved up to the garden.

    Jei, Torres, Cassius and Marva met them in the courtyard. ¡°Go ahead, Professor,¡± Mirian said to Marva. Marva¡¯s major illusion spells were, in a word, perfect. When she was done, there was no sign they weren¡¯t part of the Akanan¡¯s 7th Airborne Engineering Division.

    Cassius looked himself over with disgust, while Luspire seemed pleased with the result. Marva cast a separate spell for themself. That¡¯s interesting, Mirian realized. I didn¡¯t even feel them cast it. Were they simply that efficient at illusion?

    ¡°The sooner this is done with, the happier I will be,¡± Respected Jei said.

    ¡°Remember, if you start speaking, the game¡¯s up. I¡¯ll do the talking. The crew up there is exhausted, but they¡¯re well trained. Ready?¡±

    The team murmured their affirmation. Luspire looked up at the sky.

    ¡°For Baracuel,¡± Cassius said.

    ¡°For Torrviol,¡± Mirian echoed.

    Archmage Luspire encircled Torres, Marva, and the two crates of supplies with a force binding spell, then began to levitate. Mirian and Cassius rose after him, shooting into the sky.

    She always found exhilaration in flying, but this time, the anticipation of the coming assault magnified it. As they approached, Archmage Luspire created a thick cloud that obscured the darkening sky further. They descended onto the rear deck of the Might of Liberty, Cearsia¡¯s flagship. They were the more disciplined crew, so the plan would be harder to implement on the ship, but they were also far faster to react if something went wrong on the other ship. This was the better target.

    Their landing was as graceful as could be expected. Jei was four meters off the target, and Luspire bounced one of the crates off the railing but quickly recovered with a modified force cushion. Mirian signaled for them to follow. Their first target was a key spell engine that generated several dozen remote speech spells.

    As they entered the first room, a man wearing a lieutenant¡¯s uniform said, ¡°What are you doing here?¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t break her stride. ¡°Enemy fire just hit the seventh conduit of your engine. Damage is mostly superficial but communication with the Republic¡¯s Justice forebridge is down. Our orders are to split the channels of the fourth conduit and reroute until there can be a permanent fix. It¡¯s already noted in the damage log.¡±

    ¡°Belay that,¡± the lieutenant snapped. ¡°We should have gotten confirmation. I don¡¯t recognize you, who sent you?¡±

    ¡°Captain Markus. Ask him if he¡¯s authorized my team¡¯s repair of the aft communications, but please hurry, because my team has six more patch jobs to do and we¡¯ve already been chewed out twice.¡±

    Mirian assumed an expression of barely contained frustration.

    One of the crew looked at the lieutenant, who then curtly nodded at her. ¡°Aft communications hub to Captain Markus, confirming authorization of¡­?¡±

    ¡°7th Airborne Engineering Division, Falcon Team,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°¡ªFalcon Team¡¯s patch job to aft communications.¡±

    There was a pause, then the remote voice spell carried the reply. ¡°Confirmed.¡±

    The real Falcon Team had a different communications repair job on their schedule, and was actually off shift right now, sleeping in their bunks, but scheduling had been disrupted enough everyone expected everyone else to be working doubles and there were dozens of minor repairs no one could get to. Despite the perception of the Baracuel crews on the ground, the hits of the light artillery had done significant damage. Though she couldn¡¯t predict what communications would be hit, the glyph-phrases on the aft towers were always hit by shrapnel, so there was always at least one communications repair job needed, and if it was low priority, it went to Falcon Team. With how many sorties the airships were running, no one had time for the minor jobs.

    ¡°Sir, I¡¯m not able to reach the Justice¡¯s forebridge,¡± another communications officer confirmed.

    That was because the captain of the Republic¡¯s Justice had relieved the forebridge crew since they had been awake and on duty for twenty-three hours and he assumed the main bridge¡¯s second team wouldn¡¯t need the support.

    Meanwhile, Marva was taking mental notes on exactly how the communications crew sounded. They had, Mirian had learned, gotten very good at mimicking voices and appearances. That would come in handy for the penultimate step of the plan.

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± the lieutenant snapped. ¡°But be quick about it.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re trying, sir,¡± Mirian muttered, glaring at him. Then she nodded at Torres, who got to work.

    ***

    Over the course of the next two hours, they visited four spell engines and three conduits. Mirian and Torres had changed several dozen key glyph phrases. It was when they visited the last spell engine that they finally got caught.

    ¡°I¡¯ve ordered no repairs. Wing control is running smoothly,¡± she said. ¡°Who are you?¡±

    That was too bad, Mirian thought. Usually, the flameburst shells did enough damage to the wings that there was at least one repair job needed.

    ¡°Falcon Team. 7th Airborne Engineers, the bridge ordered we¡ª¡±

    ¡°Falcon Team. No you¡¯re not,¡± the woman said. ¡°Falcon Team is off duty right now.¡± She blinked, looking at them, then her eyes narrowed. Her hand went to her pistol at her side. ¡°Explain yourselves, now.¡±

    Mirian looked at Cassius. ¡°Kill them,¡± she said in Friian.

    The woman¡¯s eyes went wide. She drew her pistol, while another went for a wand, but it was too late. These were crew, not battlemagi or infantry. Cassius speared them in the heart one by one with an empowered force lance, Luspire joining him only after a moment. Within seconds, all six of the Akanans in the room were dead.

    ¡°Last job,¡± Mirian said. ¡°No need to hide it. Set the spellbomb.¡±

    Torres opened the last crate. The nice thing about a spellbomb was it didn¡¯t look like much, unless you knew what the glyph sequences meant. One of the Akanan inspectors they¡¯d encountered earlier had missed the explosive sequence Torres had hidden in her artifice even after looking at it.

    As Torres set them up the bomb, Cassius used a collect liquid spell to pool the blood from the bodies in the corner. Marva looked away from the carnage, looking nauseous.

    ¡°Respected Jei, please seal the door behind us,¡± Mirian said as they left.

    She did, using fuse metal to subtly seal the door on the inside rim.

    The last place they stopped was an empty cabin Torres had set up their own spell engine in. ¡°Go ahead and trigger it,¡± Mirian said.

    Torres muttered, ¡°Gods I hope this works.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure it will,¡± Mirian said. She¡¯d never actually gotten this far before.

    There was a hum and a whir as the spell engine came to life. The glyphs began to glow, and all of a sudden, Mirian could hear communications from the bridge and the hubs. Dozens of voices, all at once. ¡°Master Luspire, sir, it worked! We need the cloud off the starboard side.¡±

    The Archmage grinned. ¡°On it.¡± He left the room and looked out over the deck. When he started channeling, Mirian could feel it. Likely, several of the magi on the ship could as well. Another reason to move quickly.

    Mirian hit one of the glyph switches on the triggering device Torres had made, and an explosion rocked the ship¡ªkey conduits leading from the bridge to the first and second communications hubs. Mirian nodded at Marva as she hit a glyph on their spell engine, tapping into the remote speech spells of the hubs. Marva¡¯s modify voice spell changed Mirian¡¯s voice to mimic the woman they¡¯d heard in the last communications hub, which, thanks to their sabotage, was now isolated from the airship. In their place, they¡¯d linked their own spell engine, if only for a few minutes.

    But a few minutes would be all they needed.

    ¡°Steering, this is Command,¡± Mirian said. ¡°We just took a bad hit from artillery. Adjust your heading two degrees west and take us another five hundred feet up. Confirm course change.¡±

    ¡°This is Steering. Command received. Two degrees west, five hundred feet up. Confirmed.¡±

    Mirian hit another switch so that the spell was in contact with another area. ¡°Fire Control, this is Command. We need the artillery that just hit us silenced. Prepare a full salvo. Starboard guns, firing solution at minus twenty degrees. Fire in two minutes. Confirm.¡±

    There was a pause. ¡°Command, this is Fire Control. Republic¡¯s Justice is on our starboard side, but we have no visual. Confirm order?¡±

    ¡°Checking,¡± she said, because that was the procedure. She waited a few seconds, then said, ¡°Both ships are correcting course to hit the target. Spotters have visual on the Republic¡¯s Justice and it is out of our firing arc. Order confirmed.¡±

    ¡°Firing solution at minus twenty degrees, one minute fifteen seconds. Confirmed.¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t smile. Instead, there was another emotion swirling in her. Apprehension? No. Satisfaction? Not quite. A feeling of horror, for all the deaths she¡¯d just ordered, but a feeling of righteousness too. For all that they looked and acted human, these Akanans had coldly massacred the people of Torrviol, and it was only her actions that now stopped them. It was time that the horrors they had visited on others came to them.

    Mirian turned off their spell engine and joined Luspire by the railing.

    The guns roared out, a full broadside. But instead of hitting the town far below, the cloud just below them glowed with orange flames, as the full salvo of explosive shells slammed into the other Akanan airship¡¯s unprotected deck, the plunging fire smashing into the superstructure and right through the center of it. The bright flames blew apart the Archmage¡¯s cloud, revealing the Republic¡¯s Justice below, now awash with multicolored flames as tens of thousands of glyph phrases and spell engines went into catastrophic failure, burning with arcane fire. If Torrian Tower being shattered was a sight of awe and horror, this was ten times that; the colossal ship began to point towards the ground, streaming fiery smoke as secondary explosions cascaded through it.

    ¡°Got the bastards,¡± Luspire said. ¡°Now to the bridge. I can¡¯t wait to see the look on her face.¡±

    Mirian waited a moment longer. Even in the howling winds, she thought she could hear the screams below. Or perhaps it was the shouting of the crew here, as they realized what had just happened.

    ¡°Never in all my years,¡± Respected Jei said.

    ¡°I know it shouldn¡¯t, but it feels right,¡± Mirian said. ¡°They killed Lily. Tore her apart. I¡¯ve watched them butcher so many people, time and time again.¡±

    ¡°Then let us end it,¡± Jei said. ¡°I hope you are right. I hope this stops the rest of it.¡± Mirian had told them all about the leyline catastrophe, though she¡¯d left out a few crucial details.

    ¡°I hope so too. Let¡¯s go,¡± she said.

    More explosions rocked the Might of Liberty as the last of their spellbombs detonated. The airship listed, the starboard wing now a mess of tangled titanium and steering and the rest of communications was cut.

    They headed to the bridge. Marshal Cearsia would be waiting for them.

 Chapter 81 - Fate of the Apocalypse

    The plan was that they all surround the bridge together, but Archmage Luspire had other ideas. He rushed ahead of the group, hovering above the deck with the levitation wand. As soon as he encountered a group of Akanan crewmen, bumbling out of one of the cabins in the superstructure, he seemed to forget that they were all disguised. Immediately Luspire let loose with an incineration ray that he swung around the deck, setting at least one structure on fire.

    So much for a stealthy approach, Mirian thought as she got a whiff of burnt flesh and wood smoke. For how smart the Archmage was, he could be surprisingly short-sighted. This was still an airship full of enemy soldiers, and it would only take one lucky pistol shot to kill any of them.

    ¡°Why is he going ahead?¡± Jei asked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know. Change of plans, we follow him. We have to take the bridge, and fast. There are two elite infantry companies on this ship. Communications is down and it¡¯s dark, so it should take some time for them to organize and figure out what¡¯s happening, but if enough of them show up, there isn¡¯t a mage alive that could hold them all off.¡±

    Luspire was now some fifty meters ahead of them, his spellbook hovering over his hand as he sent out clusters of fireballs. Mirian clutched her own spellbook so it wouldn¡¯t bounce on its chain and sprinted forward. As she ran, she flipped to the page that had amplify sound and shouted, ¡°Fire! Fire on the foredeck!¡± in Eskanar. Hopefully, that sent more Akanans running to the wrong end of the ship. She then closed the book and put on another burst of speed, jumping over a tangle of warped metal that had fallen over the path, just as Luspire reached the bridge.

    She looked behind her. Her professors were arcanists, not athletes, and only Cassius regularly exercised by riding his eximontar. Some of the glyph lights on the deck were out, but she could just make them out, gaining, but slowly. The ship was now listing a few degrees to port, enough to make moving across the deck that much harder. She could also make out Akanan crew members emerging from below decks. She had to hope the chaos kept them from organizing a defense.

    Luspire smashed down the door to the bridge with a force ram, then bellowed, ¡°Emera Cearsia you traitorous wench! We had a deal.¡±

    Mirian approached the door, taking a position on one of the walkways so that a nest of pipes gave her cover. From inside, she heard Cearsia shout out, ¡°One that you and your treacherous kind trampled on. Stand down, and I may show you mercy.¡±

    ¡°We both know it¡¯s not in your vocabulary, my dear. However, I will let you surrender the ship. It¡¯s that or death. And when you arrive at the gates of hell, I dare say your soul will weigh you down to the fifth circle, kinslayer.¡±

    Cearsia responded with her burning chains spell, which the Archmage countered. The pages of his spellbook began to blur as he flipped them back and forth telekinetically, and his prismatic shield flared up around him, just as more spells erupted from the bridge. That Luspire retreated out of the door and behind a nearby cabin told Mirian he¡¯d realized his mistake. Peeking out around the corner, Mirian could see that a unit of the elite arcanists were already on the bridge and had taken positions by the windows; likely, they¡¯d rushed there as soon as things started exploding on the ship.

    For all that Mirian had grown, she still wasn¡¯t a match for a trained arcanist. They had years more of training, and spellpower she was closing in on, but still couldn¡¯t match.

    But she also hadn¡¯t lived through these years of the apocalypse without learning a thing or two.

    Mirian let loose a barrage of arc lightning, aiming for the metal frame of the door. The electricity arced into the cabins, not powerful enough to kill, but certainly enough to cause muscle seizures. Any dropped wands or momentary paralysis would help give Luspire an edge. As far as she knew, no one else could cast a prismatic shield that warded against basically all types of energy, so they would always be vulnerable to something.

    Next, she sent an arcing flame missile over the bridge so that it would land on the opposite side, which hopefully would draw their attention that way. When she heard gunfire echoing out, but no shots toward her, she thought she¡¯d succeeded. She then ducked back behind the pipes, as Luspire sent a coruscating star spell into the bridge. Briefly, it was no longer night on the ship; the spell¡¯s brightness rivaled the sun. Then the spell went through the door to the bridge.

    It had likely just blinded a bunch of Akanans, but it had also just sent a signal to anyone on the deck where the action was. She could see crew members scrambling into action even as she caught sight of the other Torrviol professors finally making their way to her.

    Mirian was thinking they¡¯re still disguised as Akanans, so we might be able to position them as reinforcements and still get off a surprise attack, and then the mass dispel spell hit. It had to be Cearsia¡¯s; it erupted outward from the bridge in an arcane pulse, silencing Luspire¡¯s spell, and she watched the illusion around her break apart into strands of light. When she looked back again, it had traveled far enough to hit the professors too. The only illusion that seemed to have held was Marva¡¯s, which didn¡¯t make sense because they¡¯d maintained all the illusion spells. Did they know a spell that was resistant to being stripped, but it only worked on themself?

    There wasn¡¯t exactly time to interrogate Marva. Mirian saw a crewman on the lower deck do a double take as he looked up and suddenly saw a bunch of Baracueli crossing the upper catwalk. He drew his pistol, but Mirian let out an incineration ray first, setting his shirt on fire, though he was likely dead before he hit the deck. The years of leading battle groups through the underground asserted themselves, and Mirian started issuing orders. ¡°Jei and Torres, take up the rear, we need shields and suppression spells. Cassius, Luspire needs help on the assault. Marva, see if you can draw people away from the bridge!¡±

    Mirian sensed another pulse of arcane energy as someone on the ship initiated the fire suppression spell engines. Immediately, the flames around them died, and the ship darkened. The deck flickered with the light of Luspire¡¯s spells as he continued to attack the bridge, but with spell engines now continually outputting a fire-suppression ward, he was forced to swap to a new style of attack. He set a blade wall spell by the port-side wall, which started sending out sparks as it shredded the wood and metal, then blasted the bridge with a continuous barrage of force missiles.

    The problem was, the arcanists in the cabin were bunkering down, and Mirian could feel them layering up their defenses with wards and shields. They knew they didn¡¯t need to go on the offensive, and the critical steering controls they needed were on the bridge. Seizing the secondary controls on the forebridge wouldn¡¯t work, because the primary controls could override anything they did. Fire spells were also Luspire¡¯s most powerful, and the suppression ward had further disadvantaged him.

    Professor Cassius joined Mirian behind the cluster of pipes. ¡°You¡¯ve done this before?¡±

    ¡°Not precisely. But I¡¯ve¡ªshit. A unit is coming up from the aft. We need to kill them before they get to the bridge.¡± They had just come out from a rear hatch on the starboard side, some dozen meters past the bridge where Luspire couldn¡¯t see them, and were creeping forward.

    Cassius didn¡¯t hesitate. Perhaps he¡¯d been in similar situations when he¡¯d fought in the Baracuel Military. He targeted the riflemen first, using a quickened mass force lift to snatch all five of their rifles up at once and flinging them away. The auramancer with them extended his spell resistance outward, so Cassius¡¯s follow-up bolt of lightning did little but spark about them.

    Then he paused, not sure how to deal with the auramancer. Maybe whatever campaign he¡¯d been on in Persama, he¡¯d never had to deal with them. Mirian, on the other hand, had fought her fair share. She used force grasp to lift a spike of charred wood that Luspire¡¯s blade wall had produced, then used another to pick up a large chunk of warped metal from the deck. While she lifted the metal over the heads of the Akanan unit, she positioned the wooden missile between herself and the Akanans and sent it into a spin.

    When she sent the wood spike forward, she already knew it would get blocked. But while the sorcerers were busy putting up force shields in front of the auramancer, they weren¡¯t looking up. Mirian dropped the heavy scrap onto his head and he crumpled to the deck like a bag of apples. ¡°Auramancer down,¡± she said, then rushed to put up a grounding force shield as the Akanan sorcerers retaliated with a barrage of lightning spells and force blades.

    Now they had a problem. While the fire suppression wards were up, any fire spells were so greatly hampered that only someone like Luspire could cast through them, and even he was opting for a strategy focused on force and lightning attacks. But the sorcerers they were fighting had layered themselves with magnetic, grounding, and force wards so that even without the auramancer there was no chance of just the two of them getting through the defense by conventional means.

    ¡°Maintain our defense,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Get ready to hit them with lightning.¡± Then she took advantage of the fire suppression ward. It worked by displacing heat. Heat displacement spells were rarely used on the offensive, but the ward gave her an opportunity. She targeted the sorcerer maintaining the grounding spell by rapidly moving heat from the air around him, and the outer layer of his skin¡ªall she could manage given the natural spell resistance. Normally, this might have given him goosebumps and made him shiver a bit, but by funneling the heat in a pattern that matched the ward¡¯s conductive lines, her spell was magnified sixfold. It didn¡¯t kill him, but it did send him into cold shock. As the sorcerer started to hyperventilate and look around in panic, he dropped his wand, and his ward vanished.

    That was all they needed. ¡°Now!¡± Mirian said, and both she and Cassius slammed the sorcerers with lighting spells. Mirian¡¯s arc lightning mostly kept them stunned, while Cassius¡¯s chain lightning left charred flesh.

    With that squad taken care of, Mirian checked behind them. Jei and Torres were fighting someone, but given the sound of sporadic gunfire and haphazard spells being flung their way, it seemed they were fighting regular crew, not trained soldiers. Meanwhile, Luspire was keeping everyone in the bridge pinned down, but each time he tried to advance, he was forced back by a barrage of spells. There had to be at least eight casters in there, and one of them was Marshal Cearsia. They also seemed to have access to engine-generated wards. If an Archmage couldn¡¯t get through those defenses, the rest of them didn¡¯t stand a chance.

    Unless¡­

    ¡°The port side guns should still be loaded. Cassius, can you lift one?¡±

    He looked at her, face grim, then at the spellfire between the bridge and Luspire. ¡°Maybe,¡± he said. ¡°It would take everything I have.¡±

    Mirian took a deep breath. ¡°Then I¡¯ll levitate us both.¡± She wasn¡¯t sure she would have enough mana. She¡¯d used a lot to even make it to the ship, and had already used one mana elixir. But they had to try. ¡°Get ready.¡±

    She wrapped Cassius in a force hold and pulled out her wand of levitation. Clenching her jaw, she channeled. It wasn¡¯t even just that she had to levitate both of them; she also had Cassius¡¯s spell resistance sapping energy from the force hold spell. Her aura began thinning at an alarming rate as she moved them over the side of the ship and in front of a port side artillery gun.

    Cassius started getting a magnetic spell ready to rip off the armored panels securing the guns, but Mirian said, ¡°Wait, there¡¯s a hidden release!¡± The schematic she¡¯d seen had shown how to open up the side panels so the guns could be loaded or offloaded from their firing ports. She closed her eyes, then sent arcane energy pulses into where she knew the sequences were, using raw energy that mimicked the needed glyph output.

    The steel armor panel cracked open, then the howling winds caught it and tore it off, the metal plate nearly hitting them as the wind whipped it past them. A shocked gunner stared at them, then dove for a safety handhold so she didn¡¯t follow it.

    Cassius tensed as he grabbed the artillery piece. There was a groan, then the sound of metal screeching as he ripped the gun off its mount. ¡°Go. Go!¡± he shouted.

    Mirian¡¯s aura was nearly depleted. She moved them up as quickly as she could, eyes locked on the approaching deck rail. She strained to keep both the levitation spell and force spell going, now struggling to even find mana to channel into them. It was like grasping at the wind.

    With one final mental heave, she got Cassius to the deck, but as she released the force hold spell, she lost hold of the levitation spell too. Desperately, she let her wand fall so she could reach out with both hands for the railing¡ªand her fingers brushed it.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    But it wasn¡¯t enough to hold on to.

    She fell.

    Cassius saw her and tried to reach down, but he missed. As Mirian fell, she saw him trying to cast a spell, but he¡¯d used the last of his mana too.

    Briefly, Mirian thought how ironic it would be if the events she¡¯d set in motion stopped the apocalypse and therefore her time loop, only for her to die. The airship seemed to move away from her in slow motion. At least falling is a quick way to go, she consoled herself.

    Then she was suddenly wrenched upward by an invisible force.

    Jei! she realized. She was leaning over the railing, orb in hand, a determined look in her eyes. Her aura must have also been nearly stripped, because even as it lifted her up, she could feel the force hold spell failing. Just as she was in reach of the airship, the spell failed.

    Mirian felt the sensation of plummeting again, but this time when she reached out for the railing, she grasped it. She felt a sharp pain in her shoulder as her weight yanked her down, and slammed into the side of the ship. The railing was so cold it burned her hands, but she grit her teeth and heaved herself up.

    Jei said something in Gulwenen, then breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°That was all I have,¡± she said.

    ¡°I¡¯m out too,¡± Cassius said. He looked up at the bridge. Beyond, they could see the flashes of light from Luspire¡¯s battle. ¡°Medius must be reaching his limit. But this gun¡¯s pointing the wrong way.¡±

    ¡°And Torres?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°With Luspire now. We split up. There¡¯s another squad harassing him. We killed two, he killed three more, then they got into the bridge.¡±

    So up a level and on the other side of a raging firefight. Not where she could help.

    Mirian looked at the heavy artillery piece they¡¯d brought up. It stood as tall as she was, and was made of steel. ¡°It¡¯s on a swivel. Breaking it from the deck might have damaged it, but we still might be able to move it.¡± She looked around. One of the nearby corpses was an engineer. Mirian rushed over and grabbed a bottle from his satchel. ¡°Lubricant!¡± she said, then splashed it around the base of the gun. ¡°Push with me,¡± she said.

    Cassius was in pretty good shape for his age. Jei wasn¡¯t. It was mostly Mirian, and she¡¯d already injured her shoulder, but she pushed with everything she had. There was a groaning sound, then the gun moved, creaking as it did.

    The explosions and gunfire echoed across the ship, and the freezing wind seemed to intensify. Then, when it was only a few degrees off, she heard gunfire close by, and sparks erupted in front of her as a bullet pinged! off the barrel. Shit, someone¡¯s shooting at us!

    ¡°Cover!¡± Mirian shouted, and dashed behind the artillery piece as several more shots rang out.

    Cassius joined her, crouching down.

    Jei didn¡¯t. Mirian¡¯s mouth grew dry. She looked back over to corpses where she¡¯d just taken the lubricant off the engineer. There was a pistol lying by his side, but no cover between her and the corpse. She closed her eyes and visualized her aura. There was so little left, but there was something left. Not enough for any major spell, but the pistol wasn¡¯t heavy. She lifted up her spellbook from the chain it was on. Several of the pages were torn up, but lift object wasn¡¯t. Hand trembling, she ran her fingers across the glyphs.

    Mirian had fired guns so rarely in her life, but she knew pistols were notoriously inaccurate at range, and there was no way she was going to hit someone in cover, in the dark, while freezing winds buffeted them. Instead, she peeked out from the gap between the barrel and the body. She could just make out their attacker, lying prone on the deck. She moved the pistol silently in the air until it was just above him, rotated it, then used the last of her mana to press the trigger.

    The gunman jerked once, then was still.

    Mirian rushed back around the gun. Jei was clutching her stomach, hand red. Blood was already pooling where she sat. ¡°No,¡± she said, when Mirian knelt by her side. ¡°You need every second. Look.¡±

    Luspire had stopped casting offensive spells. He was being hit by a barrage, and it seemed to be taking everything he had just to keep his prismatic shield up.

    Mirian swallowed a sob, then stood and heaved herself against the gun, every muscle in her body straining. She let out a primal roar as she pushed, not even meaning to. With another creak of steel, the barrel moved, until it was in-line with the bridge.

    ¡°Now it¡¯s just math,¡± Jei said, voice hoarse. She smiled as if she¡¯d just told a joke, then her face went slack, and she keeled over. Her orb rolled out of her hand and onto the deck.

    Mirian swallowed again. Part of her wanted to stop fighting, right here and now. To fail, just so there¡¯d for sure be another cycle.

    But what if she never got a better chance? What if the time she¡¯d been given ran out?

    Mirian cranked the barrel up so it was level with the bridge. Then she depressed the firing glyph.

    It was like thunder and lightning. Her ears rang and eyes were blinded, but when her vision cleared, she could see the smoldering ruin in the gun¡¯s path.

    She rushed over and grabbed the rifle from the man she¡¯d just killed, then walked towards the smoldering wreckage.

    Archmage Luspire landed by her side as she entered, face grim.

    There had been at least a dozen people inside the bridge. Most of them had been torn apart; that there was anything recognizable at all was only thanks to the layers of shields they¡¯d had around it. The roof and most of the walls had been blown off entirely so that what was left was a warped titanium framework and jagged wood.

    The elite arcanists were dead, as were the crew. Cearsia¡¯s first assistant was intact enough to be recognizable, though his legs were gone entirely. Her second assistant, the one who always acted unpredictably, was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he¡¯d just been vaporized.

    Cearsia herself lay by the wall, more pincushion than woman now with how much shrapnel was in her. Her breathing came in gasping gurgles as her lungs filled with blood.

    Mirian stood before her, rifle in hand. ¡°What would it take for this war to never happen?¡± she said.

    Even at death¡¯s door, the rage in her burned. She looked up at Mirian, eyes having trouble focusing, then spat blood at her.

    She said, ¡°It could all be avoided. No one needs to die.¡±

    Cearsia didn¡¯t say anything to that. It seemed to be taking all her strength just to keep breathing. Soon enough, that would stop.

    Luspire looked at Mirian, then looked back down at the Marshal. He had never talked to her about Cearsia. Not how he knew her, and certainly not how he felt about her. But in his eyes, she could see the faintest hint of sorrow. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± is all he said.

    ¡°Torres?¡±

    ¡°Dead,¡± he said grimly.

    Mirian¡¯s gut wrenched again. ¡°Marva?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Jei died. Cassius is¡ªthere he is.¡±

    Cassius made his entrance limping. Mirian wasn¡¯t sure when he¡¯d been hit in the leg or what had hit him in the leg, but she could see a fresh piece of cloth tied around his thigh, stained with blood.

    Mirian went to the primary steering control panel. By some miracle, it had survived the blast. She hit the glyph for ¡®descent,¡¯ then increased speed to full. The ship shuddered, then listed farther to the side. ¡°It¡¯s done,¡± she said. ¡°Let¡¯s get off this ship. Master Luspire, can you levitate all of us?¡±

    He looked back at Cearsia one last time, then they left.

    There was a loud cracking sound, then an explosion on the port side and the ship tilted even further. Mirian looked around for Marva, but they were nowhere to be seen. She grabbed onto a nearby rail so she wouldn¡¯t slide off. She heard screaming as several Akanans did tumble overboard. The tilt continued to increase.

    ¡°We have to go,¡± Luspire said. Then quietly, ¡°Sorry Ghellia. You deserve better.¡± He lifted them off the deck, and just in time. The Might of Liberty¡¯s list to port was now over twenty degrees, and as piles of debris slid that way, they only weighed the ship on that side further. It was a race now to see if Mirian¡¯s command to descend would crash the ship into the ground before it crashed itself.

    Archmage Luspire took them back east, the ship having gone way off course when their sabotage had taken out the steering. In the distance, they could see the burning wreck of the Republic¡¯s Justice, and beyond it, Torrian Tower, still standing tall.

    Mirian watched as the Might of Liberty finally hit the ground, the impact powerful enough to shake the trees beneath them even from a mile away. The ship erupted with brilliant rays and glyphfires so that the bellies of the clouds above them flickered with prismatic light. For a moment, the airship burned like a second sunset, and then the sky settled into night again.

    When they landed in the plaza, a cheer went up. Some people started singing Baracuel¡¯s national anthem.

    Luspire brightened a bit at their reception, though Mirian thought the joy was a mask. She couldn¡¯t bring herself to put on a smile herself, she was just too exhausted to pretend.

    General Hanaran burst from the entrance of Bainrose, her assistants hustling to keep up. ¡°By the Gods, you did it! With the airships out of the equation, we turned the flank of the surface army¡¯s thrust and trapped the rest of the Akanans in the Underground! They¡¯ve been surrendering en masse. I¡­ I don¡¯t believe it. No one¡¯s won a battle where they were this outnumbered since the Unification War!¡±

    ¡°The lieutenant I appointed?¡±

    Hanaran put a hand on Mirian¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Died bravely. Her defense of the catacombs helped us hold the center.¡±

    Poor Valen, she thought. Now, she really didn¡¯t know. Would she see her again in another cycle? Or would she never see that infuriating smirk again, never feel the heat of her touch? At least her family would be safe, wherever they were. She so badly wanted to see Zayd again.

    ¡°You¡­ it came to pass as you said. What happens next?¡±

    Mirian looked upward. There was a gap in the clouds, and the Divir moon hung in that spot like an omen. ¡°This was as far as I saw,¡± she said. ¡°Now I¡­ I don¡¯t know. Strange. After all these years.¡±

    ***

    The celebrations the next day were bittersweet. Despite the ban on alcohol in Torrviol, the stuff was everywhere. Across town, people consoled each other over lost friends and family, and celebrated in joy, as people praised the great victory. She found herself acknowledging so many thanks and salutations she lost track. After years of having to fight to first be heard, then believed, it all felt surreal.

    The Myrvite Studies building, though full of holes from artillery shells, had to be repurposed as a prison so that they had somewhere to put all the surrendering Akanans. Mirian¡¯s plan had worked, and they¡¯d encircled almost the entire army.

    That evening, Mayor Ethwarn and General Hanaran held a grand ceremony in the forum, stretching all the way to the theater. Logistics still hadn¡¯t caught up to the army, so most officers were missing their dress uniform, but the general and a few of her close staff had theirs. Many buildings were partially collapsed, but for all that it had been battered, Torrviol stood.

    The lion banner of Baracuel whipped in the wind. Some townsfolk wore the patriotic colors of orange and white, while others wore the mourning of black. Plenty were still across the lake, waiting for the boats to finish returning everyone to the city.

    First, an aide coached Mirian on where to go, how to stand, and what her signal would be. Mayor Ethwarn gave a long speech to the heroes of Torrviol, praising the militia, then praising the army. When it was done, General Hanaran spoke. She first recognized Luspire, Cassius, and two of her captains that had led key pushes that allowed the encirclement. One by one, they were called up and awarded medals.

    Then General Hanaran said, ¡°But without the visions of this citizen, the battle simply would have been impossible. She has left no doubt in my mind that the age of Prophets has come again. What death Torrviol has faced is far too great, and yet, it was her advice that led to this victory. Without her, there would be no Torrviol left. She led the assault on the two airships, and it is her battle plan that I followed. I recognize Mirian Castrella as Hero of Baracuel, the highest honor any citizen can have bestowed.¡±

    The crowd erupted in a rancorous cheer, and Mirian found herself blinking back tears as she summited the steps to face the crowd. The applause washed over her like the tide, and she found herself thinking, It¡¯s worth it. In the end, it¡¯s worth it.

    Again, she found herself turning to face the Divir moon, and her heart swelled. It was the evening of the 4th of Duala, and it wasn¡¯t falling.

    It¡¯s not falling.

    She wasn¡¯t naive enough to think it was all over yet. And a part of her hoped it wasn¡¯t, because she still needed to do it right. Save Jei. Save Marva. Save so many others who had fallen needlessly. Bring the Impostor to justice.

    But she¡¯d saved her friends, and knew she could save them again. And more, she¡¯d discovered a crucial connection. What she did down here mattered.

    *****

    Book 1 Epilogue

    That night, after a town-wide feast, Mirian found herself back in her dorm room.

    ¡°I¡¯m so glad it¡¯s over,¡± Lily said. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe¡­ like, you¡¯re a Prophet. That¡¯s a thing from the history books. You. And you led a battle and everything. It still doesn¡¯t seem real.¡±

    ¡°I know the feeling,¡± Mirian said. She looked at Lily, and felt a sense of sorrow. How did she tell her what really happened next? It seemed unbearable, after all the celebrations. ¡°I have to¡­ go see something. I have to know if¡­ I¡¯ll be back, okay? Don¡¯t worry.¡±

    Lily must have seen the facial expression she¡¯d made. ¡°What is it?¡± she said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Mirian repeated.

    She went to the top of Torrian Tower and looked up. The strange auroras dancing across the sky. People had noticed, of course, but they didn¡¯t know what it signaled. They were stronger tonight, and the last train that had come up had mentioned eruptions near Cairnmouth. How long had she delayed the end? Days? Weeks? She didn¡¯t know.

    But as she watched the sky and waited, hope swelled in her again. ¡°It¡¯s not falling,¡± she whispered to the wind, as the stars twinkled. She closed her eyes and let the winter wind brush aside her tears. At the very least, for one more day, the world would keep turning.

    She descended from the tower, the mix of emotions overwhelming her, and as soon as she got back she gave Lily a hug.

    Lily hugged her back. After a while, she asked, ¡°You okay?¡±

    ¡°Not yet,¡± Mirian said. She wondered how long it would take to come to terms with it all. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ gonna go see Nicolus,¡± she said. She wasn¡¯t sure what to tell him. They¡¯d both been assuming everything they were doing was temporary. For the first time, she could conceive of a future where it wasn¡¯t, or at the very least, where they might have more than just a single month of shared memories. With Valen dead, though, and Selesia a stranger, she needed someone who could hold her. Lily was her best friend, but she needed more than that right now.

    She made her way across town, smiling and acknowledging the people that greeted her, then up to Nicolus¡¯s apartment. Strangely, the door was already open.

    ¡°Hello?¡± she called.

    Nicolus came through the door smiling, but the smile looked wrong. Then Mirian saw the pair of feet sticking out from the living room door. Sire Nurea¡¯s boots.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she said. Was Nurea dead?

    When Nicolus spoke, it was with a voice that wasn¡¯t his. For one, the Friian was horribly accented, and his voice was pitched too high. ¡°Ah, you¡¯ve spoiled the surprise. Still, I have absolutely had enough of your meddling,¡± he said, and drew a pistol.

    Mirian¡¯s eyes went wide, then her ears were ringing again as she stumbled back, clutching her belly. The second shot went into her head.

    She woke up in her bed, the ceiling dripping again, and all she could think was: what in the five hells was that?

 Chapter 82 - Hunted

    Mirian tried to figure out what in the Gods¡¯ names had just happened. She¡¯d won. She¡¯d finally fucking won. The Divir moon had stayed in the sky another day and then¡ª

    Then Nicolus had shot her.

    Only, it hadn¡¯t been Nicolus. But then, who in the five hells had it been?

    ¡°Mirian? You okay?¡± came Lily¡¯s voice.

    ¡°No,¡± Mirian said with a sigh. Dying was always something of a shock. When she woke up at the beginning of the cycle, she almost always made some sort of noise that her roommate picked up on.

    She looked around her dorm room. Same as it ever was. She picked up her spellbook, and with a wave of her hand, she telekinetically shut off the water heater on the top floor, then used the tin under her bed as fodder for a metal plug, heating the metal until it was soft, then funneled it up through the holes until she sensed it was by the roof. Then she shaped the tin and rapidly displaced the heat so there was a nice tile there. The rest could wait until Archmage Luspire¡¯s scribes updated her spellbook with shape wood.

    Lily stared at her. ¡°Since when can you do that?¡± she said, mouth agape.

    ¡°Time loop,¡± Mirian said, quickly dressing into her Torrviol Academy uniform. ¡°I¡¯ll explain later. I have to go stop a bunch of spies and then¡­ look, I¡¯m not crazy. I¡¯ll talk to you later. Good luck on your exams!¡± It won¡¯t matter in the end, she mentally added, and then rushed out the door.

    ***

    Normally, she killed the first spy by pulling him off the roof, then stopped the second one as he broke into the Myrvite Studies building, then stopped the third spy four days later as he attempted to ambush and kill Professor Jei in the Underground.

    As she walked with Jei through the Torrviol Underground, Mirian gave her the usual explanation. ¡°It¡¯s just the one spy, and he only has the one lightning wand. Once he¡¯s captured, the spies go into hiding, and I work with Magistrate Ada to bring about their mass arrest.¡± She paused outside the secret passage and lowered her voice. ¡°Ready?¡±

    Jei nodded.

    Mirian cast a grounding ward on both of them, then opened the door. Jei strode forward while Mirian crept around to the side as she usually did, waiting for the spy Idras to launch his desperate ambush.

    She only had a moment¡¯s warning that something was wrong. She felt the tingle of arcane energy building up behind her, and then the fire ray seared through her back.

    The now familiar feeling of lethal pain ran through her, and she fought through it to look around. As she did, she saw more spells flash around her. She saw the silhouettes of at least six people, hoods covering their heads. Fire and force spells went off all around the room, directed at Jei, who deflected the flame spells, but wasn¡¯t able to stop a force slash from taking off her arm. As her mentor collapsed to the ground screaming, a cloaked figure approached her, gun raised. A spell had distorted his voice, but she could still hear the accent. ¡°Just give up,¡± he said, and shot her.

    ***

    Mirian sat up from her bed. In all her time loops, nothing like that had happened. Nothing. She was trembling, she realized, with fresh adrenaline¡ªand fear. What was happening? What had changed?

    The answer was starting to tickle the back of her mind. A thought she¡¯d tried to dismiss as foolish. Something she didn¡¯t want to be true because it would change everything, and she didn¡¯t want to change everything. Everything had been going so well! She¡¯d stopped the bloody Akanans, brought their airships down from the sky, and shattered their army. She¡¯d saved the Divine Monument. She¡¯d saved Torrviol!

    It can¡¯t be, she thought.

    Lily said something as she dressed, and Mirian didn¡¯t remember what she said in reply. She was too focused on what she needed to do.

    She made sure the two first spies were dead and jailed respectively on the first day. She recruited Nicolus to her cause that evening, but this time, the next day she handed Sire Nurea a list of the spies to start keeping an eye on before they were arrested. ¡°And if you have any contacts down south, I need to know how the Persaman revolt near the border is going.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a Persaman revolt near the border on top of all that stuff you just told us?¡± Nicolus said.

    ¡°Yeah. And if you don¡¯t have a trusted source, a newspaper will do. Though I never really did follow up on what you know about the Syndicates.¡±

    Nurea and Nicolus looked at each other. Nurea raised an eyebrow. Her ward said, ¡°I didn¡¯t tell her about it.¡±

    ¡°Not in this timeline, anyways,¡± Mirian confirmed. Actually, it had been Nurea who¡¯d let that nugget slip.

    Then Mirian worked on a new schedule for Jei. Even with preparation, she wasn¡¯t stopping six people who had spells and firearms¡ªnot with just the two of them. Later in the cycle, she¡¯d have more people who would believe her about the time loop, but it was still too early. Professor Torres, for example, usually only really started believing her when all the spies were rounded up.

    All her previous planning had been in service of winning the Battle of Torrviol. She hadn¡¯t planned for¡ªwhatever this was.

    As to what this was, she was still hoping she was wrong.

    On the 5th of Solem, Mirian and Jei avoided the Underground entirely.

    ***

    Mirian didn¡¯t wake up on the 6th of Solem. She woke up on the 1st again, disoriented. She looked over to Lily, then up and the ceiling. I already fixed the ceiling leak. That¡¯s the first thing I do, she thought, and then she realized, fuck, someone killed me in the night.

    That was disturbing as hell. She hadn¡¯t even heard anyone. And that meant¡­

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Mirian didn¡¯t want to think about it.

    She rushed to kill the first spy, then spent a great deal of time pacing about in the garden outside the Myrvite Studies building thinking about what she needed to do.

    She recruited Nicolus and Jei again, but this time, she went to Valen.

    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Valen said with her usual phony disgust.

    Mirian pushed her up against the wall and aggressively kissed her, then as Valen stood there, dazed, Mirian said, ¡°There¡¯s more where that came from, but I need your help.¡±

    Valen tried to act casual, like her breath hadn¡¯t just been taken away. ¡°Yeah? What makes you think I want you hanging around me?¡±

    Mirian locked eyes with Valen, then whispered, ¡°I know how to make you squirm.¡±

    The other girl let out an entirely undignified noise, then breathed, ¡°Since when did you¡­¡±

    ¡°Time loop,¡± she replied, backing away from her. ¡°Only there¡¯s a problem. New development. I¡¯m being¡­ hunted. My room¡¯s not going to be safe to sleep in anymore. I don¡¯t know how soon he can find me, but I¡¯m not taking any chances this time.¡± She looked over at the empty bed and said, ¡°So I¡¯m going to sleep in your room.¡±

    Valen made a face. ¡°You¡¯re going to sleep one building over?¡±

    ¡°In disguise,¡± Mirian added on. ¡°I¡¯m a bit less of a moron than I used to be. Please don¡¯t lecture me on spycraft, I¡¯ve already heard it all.¡±

    ¡°Yeah? Let¡¯s see it.¡±

    Mirian opened up her spellbook and flipped to the major disguise spell she¡¯d just finished scribing earlier in the day. Then she channeled, weaving the spell with her eyes closed as she visualized the light construct she was making and the new sound she wanted her voice to make. Magic was all horrendously complicated, and only the years of practice made it easy for her.

    ¡°Call me¡­ Vera,¡± she said, voice now higher. The illusion she¡¯d cast had a lot of small changes, and was mostly based on the Akanan disguise she¡¯d practiced. Her skin was paler, her hair dirty blond instead of black, and her eyes faint blue instead of their usual gray. She¡¯d also changed the structure of her face.

    Valen looked her over. ¡°Well done,¡± she said. ¡°Vera,¡± she repeated. ¡°And you have¡­ a story to go with her?¡±

    ¡°Not really. I came up with it a few hours ago. I can be your cousin who¡¯s visiting. Or a transfer student.¡±

    Valen tapped her chin. ¡°No one would believe ¡®cousin.¡¯ Transfer student, then. From¡­?¡±

    ¡°Westshire,¡± Mirian said. At Valen¡¯s skeptical look, she added, ¡°It¡¯s a real city in Akana Praediar, and the tutor I learned Eskanar from told me a bit about it. And none of the spies skulking around Torrviol have been there.¡±

    ¡°Since when do you speak¡­? Prove it. I want to hear it.¡±

    In Eskanar she said, ¡°You¡¯re a terrible little goblin-person but I¡¯m glad I get to see you again. I don¡¯t want you to die in battle, I want you to live. Even if you are a pain sometimes.¡±

    Valen nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Well, that was probably Eskanar. If you said ¡®hello, my name is Vera¡¯ really slowly I would understand it.¡±

    Mirian smiled and held out her hand. ¡°We have a deal, then?¡±

    Valen took her hand. ¡°Welcome to the Torrviol Academy, Vera,¡± she said. Then, licking her lips, she said, ¡°Now, we do roommates a bit differently over here in Baracuel¡­¡±

    Mirian ran a fingernail around Valen¡¯s chin, then brought it up so it rested on her lips. ¡°Oh, do we?¡± she said, smirking.

    ***

    The problem with relying on a major illusion spell was it was mana intensive. Mirian¡¯s auric mana had grown substantially in the past four years, as had her spell power and efficiency, but there was simply no way she could maintain it all day. She settled on maintaining the spell any time she was moving out in public, then let it drop when she was inside a classroom or back in the dorm. She had a newfound respect for Professor Marva. She wasn¡¯t sure how the illusion teacher managed to maintain complex illusions for multiple hours, especially since she knew they didn¡¯t have enough spell power to use a spell like levitation for any length of time. Were they just that specialized? They obviously still had a lot to teach Mirian.

    Lily wasn¡¯t happy that she¡¯d moved out, nor was she happy with Mirian¡¯s refusal to tell her any of the details. Mirian didn¡¯t even want to explain that it was for Lily¡¯s protection. Whoever was hunting her had found her dorm room; they obviously knew that Lily was her roommate, and she didn¡¯t want to give them any reason to target her.

    Since she was being hunted, she decided to lay low after the first two spies were dead and captured and wait for Nicolus to get back to her about what was going on in the south. She decided she could still probably go down into the catacombs and get the wand of levitation. She could, by now, kill the bog lion that nested down there on her own, she just needed a nice incineration ray spell in her book or something equivalent.

    Mirian headed through the secret passage in Bainrose Castle. As she rounded the first corner in the catacomb, she felt the sensation of arcane energy spiking as a ward triggered¡ª

    ***

    ¡°FUCK!¡± Mirian said, sitting up from her bed.

    ¡°Mirian? You okay?¡± Lily said groggily.

    ¡°No! Dammit! Five bloody hells!¡± She tore off the covers and paced around the room. ¡°He set a trap. He knew! What does he know? How does he know? How long¡­ when¡­ dammit!¡±

    ¡°Are¡­ did you have a bad dream?¡±

    Mirian let out a breath of air like she was a steam engine. ¡°Yeah, that must have been it. I¡¯ll tell you about it later,¡± she said, and was still buttoning up her uniform¡¯s coat as she stormed out of the room.

    This time, she didn¡¯t kill the first spy, and didn¡¯t capture the second one. She¡¯d lived long enough to see that someone had snuck Ayland out of prison anyways. She did warn Jei about the ambush, and did get Nurea to start investigating the spies, but she quickly found a problem: Nicolus and Nurea were being watched. Nurea could find several of the spies easily because they were observing her. They didn¡¯t seem to care she knew it, either. It was nearly impossible to track their operation under those circumstances. Valen also noticed she was being watched as she tried to get more information from her network of rumormongers, which meant Mirian had to be more careful about her disguise. That also made meeting up with Nicolus that much harder, and she found that once Nicolus started meeting with Xipuatl, the spies marked him to watch too. Overnight, the entire network was pointing itself at her and her allies.

    Without any sort of way to get Captain Mandez in jail for treason early on, he¡¯d have no trouble breaking his agents out of the town jail either. The problem was also that these changes were happening extremely early in the cycle. They started following Sire Nurea by the 5th of Solem.

    So Mirian went to class like a good student, and relied on the fact that the spies didn¡¯t actually have anyone in the student body or among the professors.

    Class was interminably boring. She¡¯d gone from getting tutored by Archmage Luspire himself to¡ªthis. Sixth-year basics. And they were basics, she understood now. At least Viridian¡¯s lecture would still change each day, though she felt bad that the spies were back to killing all the myrvites in the Studies building again.

    On the 8th of Solem, Nicolus slipped her a newspaper on his way to go drink with his buddies to celebrate the quarter ending. It was fresh from the presses of the second capital city, Alkazaria.

    She read it back in Valen¡¯s room. The headline read, ¡°Catastrophic Defeat! Perfidious Persamans Ambush Army and Overrun Border Forts! Alkazaria Could Be Next!¡±

    The article itself didn¡¯t have any of the information someone actually planning a battle might find useful, but it was clear what had happened: The Baracuel armies by Rambalda had been ambushed and routed. Suddenly, the rebel group Dawn¡¯s Peace had gone from being an ineffectual guerrilla group that was easily put down and nearly annihilated to an invincible army that seemed to know the Baracuel army¡¯s every move, every weakness, and every secret.

    Almost like someone leading them had foreknowledge.

    Mirian crumpled up the newspaper and said, ¡°Gods¡¯ blood,¡± then stared at the wall, though her eyes didn¡¯t see it.

    The story was so drastically different than it had been so many cycles that there was no denying it.

    There were other time travelers in this loop with her. How many, she had no idea.

    And at least one of them wanted her out of the picture.

 Chapter 83 - Specter

    The next morning, there was a stir across campus. Students huddling to talk in hushed voices, then disbanding. Paranoid glances cast out. A tension in the air. It was mostly sixth years gathering, but the talk was spreading to the lower classes.

    ¡°¡­heard they found him dead,¡± she heard one person say.

    ¡°In his home?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. And all the neighbors all heard the screaming. But by the time the guard got there, whoever did it was gone.¡±

    It didn¡¯t take a genius to start putting together who it was. Mirian was hiding in Valen¡¯s room when she burst in and said, ¡°They killed Nicolus!¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian said, and continued staring at the floor.

    ¡°This wasn¡¯t an assassination. I mean, it was, but they¡¯re not trying to be subtle. They could have disappeared him, that¡¯s the usual thing to do if you just want someone out of the way. No, they were trying to send a message.¡±

    ¡°To me,¡± Mirian said.

    With her aura nearly depleted purely from how much she was using her major illusion spell just to walk around Torrviol, Mirian knew she needed to change something. The problem was, the person hunting her knew her name, knew where to find her, and could easily leverage that to find out more. Likely, he knew her entire class schedule; the registrar¡¯s office wouldn¡¯t exactly be hard for the dozens of spies to infiltrate given they already had keys to the whole damn Academy. And clearly, he knew her friends as well.

    Simply living under an illusion spell wouldn¡¯t be enough. She thought she had an idea of how Professor Marva was doing it, and it wasn¡¯t just ¡®more practice.¡¯ If she could obtain a more permanent disguise¡­.

    Mirian went to visit Xipuatl. She needed to get his help before it was too late.

    When Xipuatl opened the door to his apartment, Mirian first felt relief.

    Then, she saw the smirk on his face. ¡°Just give up,¡± he said, in a voice that wasn¡¯t at all Xipuatl¡¯s.

    Mirian raised her force shield as the pistol came out. It wasn¡¯t strong enough to stop the bullet entirely, but it did absorb most of the first shot, and by now, she was used to that spike of pain¡ªshe could fight through it. She lashed out with a lift object that snatched away his pistol, and that¡¯s when she felt the line of fire stab through her back.

    She lay on the doorstep in agony. With tremendous effort, she turned her head to look back. There were two cloaked figures opposite the building, one wielding a wand, the other a rifle. The rifle cracked out¡ª

    ***

    Mirian woke, teeth grinding, and stared at the wall.

    One thing was becoming clear: the cycles clearly didn¡¯t end when she died, and this other time traveler was using the extra time to figure out more about her and plan out counter-moves while she was dead. It was also clear if he kept doing this, he¡¯d end up with an advantage in information and power. The why didn¡¯t make sense to her. She was trying to stop the apocalypse. What in the five hells was he trying to do?

    The other question was: how many time travelers were involved? Most of the people involved were Akanan spies, the Torrviol Guard, or people on the Akanan blackmail list. None of them had done anything to indicate they had foreknowledge before. Right now, she only had firm evidence for at least two: This new intruder, and someone who was leading a revolt in Persama. However, there was no reason to assume that was it.

    It meant she had to fundamentally change her strategy. Right now, she¡¯d been outmaneuvered, and it was because she¡¯d been burning through the cycles like a forest fire. Even if she¡¯d learned about another time traveler, she would have assumed they¡¯d be trying to stop the end of the world with her.

    It was no longer safe to assume anything. First, she had to find a way to hide in the shadows.

    Then, she had to find a way to fight off the man who was hunting her. That he had attacked her seemed utterly nonsensical to her. Why hadn¡¯t he offered to help stop the world¡¯s end? They could have worked together, and bolstered each other¡¯s efforts. They could have exchanged knowledge and skills.

    Instead, he¡¯d chosen war. Her fury at him was compounded by what could have been. It was bad enough the moon was going to fall, and he was making it worse.

    Mirian did her best to bury her anger so that it wouldn¡¯t impede her thinking.

    She had time to prepare. At least a day or two, because whoever this new traveler was, he didn¡¯t awaken in Torrviol. Then, she could lay low and try to figure out more about her opponent. Mirian vowed not to make contact with Nicolus, Xipuatl, or even Lily. She reformulated her ¡®Vera¡¯ disguise, since she¡¯d been assassinated while under that illusion spell on Xipuatl¡¯s doorstep. But she hadn¡¯t died in Valen¡¯s room, so as far as she could tell, this new nemesis of hers hadn¡¯t figured out that Valen was a contact, or that she was staying with her.

    Mirian went to take out a loan, then spent the next two days in a flurry of scribing spells and working on artifice. She also bought a quilted silk undershirt that was supposedly bullet resistant. She¡¯d overheard soldiers singing them praise, though many of them also wore steel breastplates, so how effective it actually was she didn¡¯t know. Hopefully, if her force shield could slow the velocity of a bullet, the silk could do the rest.

    She worked with Valen to plan out casual routes they could both take to look for suspicious movements. This opponent was obviously comfortable with illusions and intelligence operations, but Mirian had at least a pretty good sense of the normal movements she could expect around town. The man was coming from somewhere and making contact with the Akanan spies¡ªshe just had to figure out the when and where.

    She told Valen to go wander the Academy grounds. She took her position outside the spy¡¯s headquarters, and waited.

    And waited.

    By the 4th of Solem, she thought she was seeing a change in the pattern of spy movement. By the 5th of Solem, the spy network had clearly been redirected to a new purpose. Valen saw spies shadowing Nicolus and Xipuatl between classes, while Mirian watched as the Torrviol Guard¡¯s patrol routes changed. Frustratingly, the spies seemed to know their headquarters was being watched, so her stakeout of the place had turned up nothing. After the first few days, they apparently abandoned the building, but where they had relocated, she had no clue. Based on where some of the spies suddenly appeared, they were using the Underground for movement. Likely, they¡¯d used tunneling spells to remove anything they needed in the headquarters and left a bunch of traps.

    Either Mirian¡¯s routine trips to the southeast side of town hadn¡¯t been as subtle as she¡¯d hoped, or they¡¯d found some other way of discovering her. On the 10th of Solem, Mirian was sitting on a bench pretending to read a book when she found herself getting hit by a sudden dispel and her illusion shattered into shards of light.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    She immediately pulled a wand from her belt and raised an enhanced force shield, but when she looked around, it wasn¡¯t Akanan spies approaching her, but four of the Torrviol Guard. She recognized Roland and, of course, the false captain.

    ¡°Mirian Castrella? You need to come with us,¡± Nathanial said.

    She thought about asking ¡®why?¡¯ and getting them to name whatever crime she¡¯d supposedly committed, but decided there wasn¡¯t a point. If they wanted to charge her with something, they¡¯d just make it up. There would be no justice in Torrviol, just theater.

    Perhaps there was still a chance for her to learn more about what the other time traveler was doing. Perhaps in private, when they thought they had the advantage, one of them would reveal something. The guards searched her for any sort of magical items and weapons. They missed the arcane catalyst on the inside of her belt, but seized her spellbook and wands.

    The interrogation room was familiar. The woman sitting in the chair was a stranger.

    Mirian had expected Nathanial to interrogate her while he kept pretending to be a captain, but instead, the woman sitting in the chair said, ¡°Thank you. Leave us.¡±

    Her red hair was done up in a tight bun and had a single bronze hairpin that resembled a wand in it. She was wearing the uniform of an Arcane Praetorian, including the signature twisted bronze torque with dragon heads on each end.

    Mirian immediately knew who she was pretending to be, and who she was, though she still didn¡¯t know her name. This was Specter. The Impostor. The woman who¡¯d been hiding in the shadows for years.

    On the table, she saw a familiar looking chest, wrapped in silver bands. The one that didn¡¯t quite reflect light the way it ought to.

    The woman stared at her, eyes cold and face stone. ¡°Shall I skip the pleasantries? I¡¯m given to understand you already understand why you¡¯re really here.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± said Mirian. ¡°What else did he tell you?¡±

    ¡°A great many things, but I¡¯d like to hear them from you, without leading you in any way.¡±

    Was this an opportunity to get her to see reason? She had to try. ¡°Both of us are in a time loop. So he¡¯s no doubt presented you with a bunch of foreknowledge, or perhaps personal things. Maybe he knows a secret of yours. Maybe he has leverage.¡±

    The Impostor kept her face blank. ¡°I don¡¯t tell people my secrets. Only a fool does.¡±

    That paranoid attitude fit with what Mirian knew, given how hard she¡¯d been to find. ¡°I won¡¯t bore you then. So what do you want to know from me?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your angle?¡±

    She saw no reason to lie. ¡°Protecting the Divine Monument. Right now, something is going on with the leylines. Soon, there will be eruptions across the world, both in Akana Praediar and Baracuel. There¡¯s already been several that I¡¯m sure you know about. There was a factory in Ferrabridge that got hit by one. I don¡¯t know what the Monument under the Academy does yet, but I do know blowing it up only makes things worse. The time loop was initiated to stop it, that much I¡¯m sure. What I don¡¯t understand is why the other time traveler opposes me. If we worked together¡­.¡±

    The Impostor cocked her head sideways. ¡°Convenient.¡±

    Mirian could tell she was referring to the geopolitical interests Nicolus and his uncle had gone on about. Control of key resources. Competition. The great game of nations. To the Impostor, Mirian¡¯s story was a nice excuse. ¡°I assure you, it isn¡¯t. It¡¯s been a pain in the ass to protect it. If there was another way, I¡¯d be doing it. So if you¡¯re concerned about Baracuel¡¯s power, there¡¯s a diplomatic angle. Get Luspire a premiere appointment at Vadriach University and he¡¯ll allow an Akanan research team to monitor the Monument. I can secure the Baracuel side of that agreement. What I need is someone to secure the Akanan side. For obvious reasons, they¡¯re not listening to me.¡±

    The other woman tapped her finger on the table a few times. ¡°What makes you think I can secure the ¡®Akanan¡¯ side of things? Who exactly do you think I am?¡±

    Mirian rolled her eyes. ¡°Sorry, I thought we were past that. I didn¡¯t realize you were still pretending to be Adria Gavell.¡± She leaned forward. ¡°You shot Adria Gavell in the back of the head in the catacombs three years ago. You¡¯re the Deeps turncoat, and I know you¡¯re working for the Akanans, along with Nathanial, the cell leader. Call off the assassination of the Akanan Prime Minister. Call off the invasion. Put an end to this madness. It only ends in annihilation.¡±

    Nothing she¡¯d said so far had shaken the Impostor, but this did. She saw the flash of fear in her eyes and the brief recoil, though she recovered quickly.

    ¡°Interesting,¡± the Impostor said, voice controlled. ¡°Your counterpart has a different explanation. God has deigned there to be a grand competition. Life is about clawing your way to the top. If you don¡¯t bury your enemies, or worse, you think you can live in peace with them, they will bury you. There¡¯s not an alternative, there¡¯s only the fight for power.¡± She paused, then said, ¡°I¡¯m inclined to think he understands the human condition better than you.¡±

    Mirian made a face. ¡°That¡¯s what he thinks? That this is some sort of elaborate¡ªhas he been paying attention to the dreams? You know he¡¯s just trying to manipulate you into doing what he wants, right?¡±

    ¡°In this, he is honest. What are you doing, if not trying to manipulate me?¡±

    ¡°Is it manipulation if it¡¯s the truth? I¡¯m trying to save as many lives as I can here.¡±

    The Impostor sighed. ¡°Another common manipulation tactic. You should¡¯ve gone into politics, I think you could convince a lot of ignorant plebs. You have that righteous outrage. They love that.¡± She stood up and knocked on the door twice.

    At first, Mirian thought she was done. Weird interrogation, she thought. Then she saw the false captain walk through the door with two cages, one holding a moon flicker and the other holding a stonemole. Several glyphs helped reinforce the cage, and neither of the trapped myrvites were happy about their predicament. The stonemole kept trying to gnaw out of its cage, though the lightning ward on the bars shocked it back, while the moon flicker was attempting some sort of natural spell that the cage was suppressing, causing it to blur. It flapped its wings in frustration.

    Mirian didn¡¯t like the sight of the panicked animals. For a moment, she was confused. Then she remembered the box, and realized what they were for. Necromancy. She needs them for a necromantic spell.

    She felt a strange mix of fear and curiosity, and she hesitated. She had her arcane catalyst hidden, but did she even want to use it? If she waited, she could get a first-hand demonstration of a new type of magic.

    The problem was, she was clearly the target. She thought of the soul-marks the spies had. If the Impostor was going to mess with her soul¡­.

    Mirian watched as the other woman opened the box. The Impostor closed her eyes briefly, channeling, but without a divination device, she wouldn¡¯t know the combination of arcane energy she was using. Mirian struck¡ªusing raw magic to create a force blade, she aimed it at the Impostor¡¯s throat.

    The force blade dissipated, hitting spell resistance more typical of a bog lion than a person. She saw the bronze torque she was wearing glow with ethereal light.

    Shit, she thought, as the Impostor¡¯s eyes went wide and she pulled out a wand. She hit Mirian with a wave of force, slamming her out of the chair and back into the wall. Her head hit the stone, and for a few seconds, she blacked out. When she came to, blinking away stars, she was on the floor. She felt blood dribbling down the back of her neck, and the Impostor had already found the arcane catalyst and was removing it. She muttered, ¡°God, I ask for basic competence, and it is too much.¡± To Mirian she said, ¡°Try that again and I¡¯ll make your world pain. Hold still and this won¡¯t hurt a bit.¡±

    Mirian groaned, and the Impostor slammed her to the ground as she tried to rise. Then she felt force shackles wrap around her. Her head was still in agony, and the world wouldn¡¯t stop spinning. Mirian fought back nausea and tried to focus on what the Impostor was doing. She struggled so that she was sitting up against the wall.

    The Impostor had taken the wand and first skull out of the chest. Then, while the skull sat on the table, she closed her eyes. There was a horrid scream from the stonemole, and in that distant place where Mirian could feel her soul, she felt something intruding into it. It was unpleasant; like icy worms were moving beneath her skin. The stonemole began to wither in front of her eyes, its flesh rapidly blackening and desiccating.

    Mirian closed her eyes. The light was too bright in the room. She tried to focus, but the pain and nausea were too much. Whatever the Impostor had just done, at least it hadn¡¯t made her any worse. She opened them again and saw the other woman had her hand on the second cage, and had changed out the skulls.

    The moon flicker let out a blood-curdling screech that was somehow worse than the stonemole¡¯s. This time, as the bird withered, it felt like claws were tearing at her soul.

    She screamed.

 Chapter 84 - Cursed

    The second curse killed her, but unlike previous deaths, it wasn¡¯t just the memory of the pain that followed her¡ªthe agony lingered. As it slowly faded, she felt tired, like she did when she¡¯d been directing the Battle of Torrviol and had gone two days without sleeping.

    Lily was saying something to her, but it took her a moment to comprehend the words she was saying. Mirian¡¯s mind felt sluggish.

    ¡°¡ªtalk to me, Mirian. What happened? Are you hurt? Mirian? Mirian!¡± Her roommate was standing right over her.

    ¡°¡ªfine. Give me¡­ a¡­ moment,¡± she managed.

    ¡°Gods. Was it a nightmare? You nearly gave me a heart attack. Ugh, I sound like my mom. Are you okay?¡±

    ¡°Need¡­ space. A moment. Please.¡±

    Lily backed up, then sat on her bed looking distressed.

    It felt nearly impossible to meditate. Twice, she slowed her breathing enough, and then a jolt of pain ran through her and broke her concentration. And that water was dripping from the ceiling¡ªthat damn water. She rolled onto the floor with a thunk just to get away from the incessant dripping. ¡°That was¡­ intentional,¡± she said. ¡°Bit longer.¡±

    ¡°Can I get a cleric? I can get a cleric. You look terrible. But what do I tell them? What happened?¡±

    Mirian focused again on her soul. She could just make out the outlines of it. There was something there; in her mind¡¯s eye, it looked like dark tendrils covering the surface. She¡¯d been cursed, that much was clear. And the curse had come with her, back into the past.

    With great effort, she stood, even though it felt like weights were dragging her down. ¡°Yeah. Cleric. Let¡¯s¡­ go.¡±

    Lily grimaced. ¡°In your night clothes?¡±

    In a cycle, no one would remember. Mirian couldn¡¯t bring herself to care, and dressing properly felt like too much effort. She just needed the curse gone as soon as possible. ¡°Yeah. Cleric. Now. Can I¡­ lean on you?¡± And why is it so damn hard to think?

    They made their way towards the hospital, Mirian stumbling along as best she could. Periodically, she felt a stab of pain run through her whole body and she had to stop and wait for it to fade. By the time they¡¯d made it to the hospital, Mirian felt like she¡¯d walked for hours.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± she told her friend as she collapsed into a chair.

    The attendant looked at her and didn¡¯t ask what had happened. She stood and fetched a cleric immediately.

    Mirian recognized the cleric from one of her previous loops. She remembered he preferred Cuelsin, and that he¡¯d helped diagnose her when she¡¯d been drinking too many mana elixirs. When he introduced himself again as Cleric Marovim, the name meant nothing to her. Despite her memory tricks, it had been one meeting several years ago by now.

    ¡°What happened?¡± he said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Mirian said, and then kept repeating it to his other questions.

    When Marovim finally analyzed her soul, his face turned white. She expected him to say, ¡®Ah, you¡¯ve been cursed. Don¡¯t worry, as a member of the Luminate Order I can fix that, because that¡¯s what we do¡¯¡ªbut he didn¡¯t. Instead he said, ¡°I¡¯m¡­ very sorry. I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

    Well, maybe he needs someone with more skill, she thought. Her mind was still fuzzy, and the exhaustion was clawing at her. I¡¯ll just close my eyes for a moment, she thought.

    When she opened them, Priest Krier was in the room. ¡°Ah. You¡¯re awake. Your roommate tells us your name is Mirian, yes?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Can you¡­ fix it? I don¡¯t¡ª¡±

    In a low voice, Krier said to Marovim, ¡°Do you really think she doesn¡¯t know?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ Holy One, I don¡¯t¡­ I¡¯m not sure. She¡¯s just a student.¡±

    ¡°She has the mark, though. How does she get the mark without¡­?¡±

    ¡°Mark? What¡­ what are you talking about?¡± Mirian mumbled.

    Priest Krier looked concerned. ¡°We need to talk in private,¡± he told the cleric.

    They closed the door and talked in hushed voices. Mirian strained to hear. Finally, as they reopened the door, she heard Marovim say, ¡°¡ªsettles it. I¡¯ll contact Adria.¡±

    That sent a chill through Mirian¡¯s bones. ¡°Wait, why are you getting an Arcane Praetorian? I¡¯m sick,¡± she said, but already her mind was racing. The Impostor had branded all the souls of her spy network so that her rune-magic traps could detect them. That first spell of hers must have been a brand. Whatever the brand signaled, the clerics could pick up on it, and the Impostor had chosen something that roused their suspicions. It was so hard to think, but she tried to make the connections. The Arcane Praetorians take on rogue arcanists. Like necromancers. But if they use soul magic¡­. And then Mirian knew. The Impostor had branded her as a necromancer. The clerics could see it, and to them, it probably looked official. In fact, given the Impostor¡¯s status as a Deeps agent turned traitor, it probably was genuine. That brought another question: Why is the church allowing the Deeps and the Praetorians to use soul magic? Isn¡¯t it the purview of the Order?

    There was no way anyone would believe the time loop story. But she needed to get them to heal her. ¡°Have I been cursed?¡± she said. ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened last night. We were celebrating the end of the quarter approaching, and then¡­ it¡¯s all black.¡± She started crying, and it wasn¡¯t fully an act to garner sympathy, but she hoped it would help.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Priest Krier said. ¡°We have to follow protocol here. It¡¯s¡­ I¡¯m sure everything will be¡­.¡±

    It was insidious. The curse made it impossible for her to fight, and the brand made it so no one would remove it without the Praetorian¡¯s approval¡ªand the Impostor had killed the Praetorian and the Department of Public Security cell that could have checked her. The Impostor certainly understood how to gain power. But for what purpose? There had to be more to it than what she¡¯d told Mirian, but she doubted she could find out anything useful this time. The woman was trained in interrogation. She wasn¡¯t going to let anything slip.

    No, this time, she had to do what she could to escape. The last time she¡¯d tried that, she¡¯d aimed for the wrong target. This time, she wouldn¡¯t make the same mistake.

    When the Impostor walked into the room, she first tried to get Mirian moved. Fortunately, the sympathetic Krier said, ¡°She¡¯s in no state to be moved. We can make sure no one eavesdrops, I assure you.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± the false Praetorian said. After she shut the door, she sat across from Mirian, eyes boring into her.

    Mirian had gone through the act of pretending to be distraught dozens of times after she¡¯d killed that first spy, and learned lessons of body language and tone from Professor Marva. She wasn¡¯t an actress, but she was no stranger to acting. She played the helpless victim.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she moaned. ¡°It hurts so bad. Can¡­ can you help me?¡±

    The Impostor¡¯s gaze didn¡¯t leave her. ¡°Who are you?¡± she said.

    There was no point hiding that. ¡°Mirian. I¡¯m a student here at the Academy. Please, it hurts.¡± She started crying again, though she doubted the Impostor had a single shred of sympathy in her entire body. The minutes ticked by. ¡°What¡¯s going on? Why won¡¯t anyone help me?¡± Mirian said, acting as distraught as she could.

    Finally, the Impostor spoke. ¡°I don¡¯t recognize you. How is this possible?¡±

    Then the other time traveler wasn¡¯t in contact with her yet. Until he was, she had time to escape. Mirian could also read between the lines. She clearly recognized her own necromantic handiwork, but had no memory of casting the spells.

    ¡°How did you come to be cursed?¡± the Impostor said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Do you think I haven¡¯t tried? I wake up, and I can¡¯t even remember the previous day. Then I come here, and the Temple won¡¯t heal me. I¡¯m faithful to the Ominian, I swear. Please.¡± Marva had taught her to keep the lie simple, and to redirect the conversation as needed.

    ¡°Girl, I need you to tell me the truth,¡± the Impostor said, voice full of daggers. ¡°Tell me what happened. I can make the pain go away, but you have to tell me.¡±

    There was a desperation in that tone, because, Mirian knew, things weren¡¯t adding up. She also knew the promise of relief was a lie. Fool me once, she thought. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she repeated.

    The false praetorian ground her teeth, then abruptly stood and left the room. ¡°¡ªnot let her out. I need to conduct a full investigation. Can you¡ª¡± is all Mirian heard.

    Mirian began looking around the room for anything she could use. They did surgery sometimes in the hospital, but the cabinets in her room were locked. She searched for a stray scalpel, or a glass bottle of herbs¡ªbut they¡¯d left nothing.

    Something about the curse was making it impossible for her to keep her eyes open. Mirian collapsed onto the chair and drifted off to sleep.

    ***

    When she woke, the Impostor was staring at her again. She¡¯d been moved somewhere. A cell of some sort, but not one she recognized, and by now, she recognized the cells in both the Magistrate¡¯s Office and the prison quite well. She must have her own building, Mirian knew. It was well hidden, since she¡¯d never found it in previous cycles, but the old construction of the walls was a dead giveaway: they were in the Underground, on the second sub-level.

    The Impostor said, ¡°You need to tell me what happened, or you¡¯ll never leave this place.¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t answer, she just started crying, which she thought is what she would have done before the cycles started.

    The false Praetorian stared at her for a good five minutes, letting her weep, then abruptly left the room. Mirian continued the act for a few minutes after she left, just in case there were divination spells monitoring her or the Impostor came back suddenly. Then, she looked around. There were no windows, but there were a few tarnished bronze pipes near the ceiling that she could feel air coming from. There was a cot and a bucket and a stone basin with water in it. The stone basin was part of the wall. There was a place where shelves had once been anchored in the walls, but the shelves were gone now. Other than that, there was just the door, which was solid oak and had sound-proofing glyphs. If there were any divination spells, they were well hidden.

    Mirian spent most of the time sleeping, but no amount of sleep seemed to be able to overcome the lethargy of the curse. Periodically, the Impostor would come in, demand answers, and then leave when Mirian stuck with her story of being an innocent student who didn¡¯t know anything or remember anything. When she was awake, Mirian tried prying the bronze pipes loose, or even getting a piece of it out so that she could sharpen it on the stone basin. When that failed, she tried to dislodge the rusted shelf-anchors in the wall. It was nearly impossible to track how much time had passed, but after a few days, Mirian knew the other time traveler had made contact with the Impostor, because the interrogation changed.

    The Impostor came in with the eldritch box, and Mirian knew she was out of time. She¡¯d nearly gotten one of the rusted anchors out of the wall using nothing but her (now bloodied) fingers, but she needed to escape now.

    ¡°You can cry all you want,¡± the Impostor said. ¡°I know the truth now. Sulvorath has told me everything.¡±

    Mirian blinked at her. ¡°Who is ¡®Sulvorath¡¯? What are you talking about? You know, I¡¯m a citizen of Baracuel. I have rights. You can¡¯t just keep me here forever!¡±

    The false Praetorian stared at Mirian. ¡°Your fellow time traveler. He¡¯s told me who you are. What you are. What you¡¯ll do if I let you loose.¡±

    Mirian let out a hysterical laugh. ¡°Oh Gods, you¡¯re crazy. That explains it. You¡¯re just crazy! Oh Gods, I¡¯m going to die here.¡± She curled up by the cot and started sobbing again, but with one eye half-closed, she watched the Impostor. In dueling, a fast lunge required tensing the back leg, loading it like a spring. She tensed her leg.

    Right now, the Impostor was hesitating. Good, Mirian thought. I hope you¡¯re doubting everything. I hope you feel awful about yourself.

    The Impostor turned her back to open the door again, and Mirian could hear the shrill cries of the caged moon flicker.

    The key was that her back was turned.

    Mirian uncoiled, lunging for the force blast wand at the Impostor¡¯s belt. In a second, she¡¯d snatched it up, then stumbled back.

    The Impostor dropped the cage and whirled. There¡¯d never been a chance of her beating the Impostor in a magical duel, even with the element of surprise. She had on the spell resistant jewelry, and with the curse, Mirian was finding it nearly impossible to channel anyways, like there was a shadow between herself and her aura.

    Instead, she stuck the wand in her mouth and bit down hard, then used both of her hands to pull down with as much strength as she could.

    ¡°What are you¡ª¡± the Impostor started, eyes going wide, but Mirian knew her glyphs too well. She¡¯d long ago memorized what sequence a force blast spell needed, and also what sequence would cause a buildup of energy in the conduit. She could only manage a trickle of mana, but that was all she needed. Once the glyphs shattered, the energy in them would cause an explosive cascade.

    ¡°¡ªdoing. Shit he was¡ª¡± The Impostor lunged for the wand, but she was too late.

    The wand erupted in a fireball.

 Chapter 85 - Escape

    She woke in agony again. Physical, from the curse, and mental, from the horror of having just blown apart her own head, starting with the jaw. The lingering feeling of that squirmed through her whole body. She turned her head and vomited.

    ¡°Oh shit!¡± Lily said. ¡°Oh no. You can¡¯t be sick, it¡¯s exams! Is it food poisoning? What did you eat last night? Should I get the cleric? Wait, is food poisoning one of the non-intervenable phenomena, or is it¡ªoh gross, it got all over my satchel.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t get a cleric,¡± Mirian said, panicked. ¡°Whatever you do, don¡¯t do that.¡± She spat on the ground to get rid of the sour taste, then tried to catch her breath. ¡°Alright. Sorry, I have to go. And I can¡¯t explain. But¡­ don¡¯t worry. Alright? It¡¯ll work out¡­ in the end.¡±

    Lily raised an eyebrow. ¡°So uh¡­ are you delirious as well? I don¡¯t think clerics can solve that one. But they can cure fevers, which cause it. Or was it the other way around? Okay, I¡¯m going to go get some towels from the commons. Stay put, okay? If you¡¯re sick, you need your rest. Ugh, I sound like my mom, don¡¯t I?¡±

    Mirian closed her eyes as soon as Lily left. She wanted to go back to sleep. Every fiber of her body just felt tired, and like a long sleep would make it all better.

    She got up, and changed into her set of regular clothes. She took her satchel with her spellbook and coin, and stumbled out the door before Lily could return.

    Unfortunately, she was too late. ¡°Mirian, where are you going?¡± her roommate called, and rushed to catch up with her.

    Mirian put her hand on the door to the outside and sighed. Then she turned.

    ¡°Gods, you do look awful. We really should get a cleric.¡±

    It was hard to talk without pausing to breathe, but she mustered what strength she could. ¡°Lily, you have been my good friend all these years. Your friendship has meant everything to me. But something has happened, and I can¡¯t stay.¡± Her hand began to tremble. She thought of all the horrible things the Impostor and this other time traveler, this Sulvorath, would do to her friends and to her beloved Torrviol. But for too long, she¡¯d clung to this place. Jei had been right to warn her. She couldn¡¯t save everyone from what was coming.

    Not yet.

    ¡°If you have ever been my friend, listen to me now: You need to let me leave. In a few days, someone will come looking for me. Tell them whatever you need to. Tell them I¡¯ve gone as far away from this place as I can. Because that¡¯s what I need to do.¡± Mirian hesitated. She wasn¡¯t even sure if she was talking to Lily now, or herself. ¡°I¡¯ll be back, someday. I promise.¡± A tear ran down her cheek, and she swallowed hard.

    Lily stared at her, but she didn¡¯t say anything for a long time. Then, in a small voice, she said, ¡°Bye Mirian.¡±

    Mirian left. Walking was hard, she had to focus to put one step in front of the other. People stared at her, but she was used to that by now, even if it was for a different reason now. She made her way to Castner Hall and one of the offices on the upper floor.

    The door was open, but she knocked and said, ¡°Professor Marva?¡±

    She had to ask, since Marva¡¯s outfits and illusionary appearances changed so drastically from day to day, and she¡¯d never visited them this early in a cycle. Today, Marva was dressed in simple grays, though they had a single scarlet scarf on that stood out like a torch in the office. ¡°Yes? Can it wait?¡± They looked back down at a stack of papers they were going through.

    ¡°No,¡± Mirian said, and stumbled inside. ¡°I¡¯ve been soul-cursed by a necromancer, and the Luminate Order won¡¯t help. Can¡¯t help. But you can.¡±

    Marva looked up abruptly, the shock obvious, though they were trying to hide it. ¡°What makes you think that?¡±

    ¡°Illusion is your specialty, and you can maintain enhanced major disguise spells longer than even the Archmage. But I¡¯ve done a lot of calculations on aura capacity and mana drain, and the numbers don¡¯t add up. Even if¡ª¡± Mirian doubled over wheezing, then held up a finger. ¡°Moment,¡± she said, then when she¡¯d recovered, continued. ¡°Even if you¡¯ve found a way to eliminate the extra drain from mind-component spells, it wouldn¡¯t add up. And it also wouldn¡¯t let you resist dispelling spells, and especially not an enhanced dispel from someone as powerful as Marshal Cearsia.¡± Mirian paused again, caught her breath, then said, ¡°I should probably mention I¡¯m a time traveler, so I¡¯ve seen that all first-hand. And that¡¯s why I need your help. It¡¯s my soul that¡¯s moving through time, so the curse is following me. And I don¡¯t know enough soul magic to fix it.¡±

    Professor Marva started tapping a finger anxiously. Finally, they said, ¡°Close the door, please.¡± When Mirian did, they said, ¡°You realize what you are saying is unbelievable.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m quite used to that. But you do know soul magic. If I cast a dispel on you right now, it wouldn¡¯t do anything, would it?¡±

    Marva¡¯s finger tapping intensified. ¡°You have to understand¡ª¡±

    ¡°Tell me no and I¡¯ll walk out the door,¡± she said quickly.

    That gave Marva pause. Mirian could see that the secret she¡¯d hit upon meant a lot to Marva. Perhaps they had once been hunted themselves. ¡°I can¡¯t help you¡ªnot with a curse. But I know who can.¡± The professor closed their eyes. ¡°There¡¯s a religious group not sanctioned by the Luminate Order. The Cult of Zomalator. Heretics, by definition. I¡¯m sure that conjures up all sorts of¡­ negative connotations. But they helped me, and they can help you. Go to Cairnmouth, in the southern port market. There is a merchant stand that will have a pennant woven into the tablecloth. An old one, from before Cairnmouth was part of Baracuel. It depicts a gray shrew backed by a red Luamin moon. You will know it when you see it. Tell whomever is running the stand that ¡®the tempest is within me.¡¯ That should be enough.¡±

    Then they opened their eyes.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I wish¡­¡± What did she wish? That there was more that I could do. That no one here had to live through what was about to happen. At least there would be those moments before the invasion, where all felt normal, and life went on. Moments of peace and beauty. Moments of joy and laughter. Those too would repeat, not just the suffering and death from the invasion. She had to remember that. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said again.

    She bought a ticket for Cairnmouth at the station, trying to keep the Akanan agent who worked there from seeing her, though she wasn¡¯t sure if she succeeded. Right now, she was a sick-looking nobody, and hopefully a forgettable one.

    Of course, the train¡¯s spell engine suffered its usual problem, so their departure was late. That was fine with Mirian. She did a lot of napping while they fixed it, then fell asleep again once the train was moving.

    The usual dreams of the statue returned, though it was one she hadn¡¯t seen in a long time. The statue of the Ominian was floating among the stars, and both the knives and wounds they¡¯d made were missing from its stony skin. Together, they gazed out as the stars began to burst in great flares. When she woke, she thought of that feeling of vastness. The more she dreamed, the more she was sure that the dreams were messages. It seemed arrogant to think they were from the Gods themselves¡ªbut what else could it be? She just had to learn to interpret her visions right.

    It was late when they pulled into the station and Mirian still felt tired, but she¡¯d rested enough she was sure she could make the journey across Cairnmouth. By now, the market was probably closed, but she could take a room at one of the inns nearby.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    She stumbled through the streets in a daze, trying her best to keep focused and alert. The main roads were narrow, but well-lit, though night was also when most of the cart traffic rumbled through the city. The cobblestone lanes were just wide enough for one cart and for a person to lean up against a nearby wall if they didn¡¯t want to go under the cart. After nearly being hit by a cart, Mirian went a street over where the road was narrower and only had the residual light from the glyph lamps. It would be just her luck lately that she¡¯d end the current loop getting run over by an inattentive driver.

    Four blocks later, she nearly ran into the group of four people blocking her path.

    One of them pulled a knife. ¡°Nice satchel,¡± he said.

    Mirian had heard the crime in Cairnmouth was ridiculous, but she hadn¡¯t realized it was this bad. ¡°Here you go,¡± she said, and handed it over. She was in absolutely no state to fight one person, never mind four. It was just stuff. Better to sacrifice it than start again.

    ¡°What, that easy? What else do you have for us?¡± the woman next to him said.

    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Mirian said. ¡°It¡¯s got my coin and my spellbook. It¡¯s all I have.¡±

    ¡°Search her,¡± the man said. When the second man in the group moved forward, he said, ¡°Not you, her. We have standards, you know.¡±

    ¡°Right, sorry,¡± he said, and waited while the woman searched Mirian.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± she said. ¡°Well, be on your way. And don¡¯t bother telling the guards, they¡¯re on our payroll, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it,¡± Mirian said.

    The man nearly beamed. ¡°There! Polite and professional. Wish they all could go that well. Have a nice night, lady.¡±

    So much for renting a room, Mirian thought as they took off down an alley and she stumbled on. She was nearly by the port market when two more figures stepped out of the shadows and one put a knife to her throat.

    ¡°No sudden movements,¡± a younger sounding man said, though he was clearly trying to sound gruff. ¡°Give us any coin or any valuables you have.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I just got mugged a few blocks back and they already took everything.¡±

    There was a hesitation, and the knife moved a bit farther from her throat. ¡°Really?¡±

    Mirian sighed. ¡°Really.¡±

    She felt hands moving up and down her clothes from the second mugger. ¡°Damn! Come on, what are the chances?¡±

    ¡°Well, shit. You sure you don¡¯t have a few coins stashed somewhere?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, no,¡± Mirian said apologetically.

    The knife dropped away. ¡°Alright, beat it. Get running.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m in no state to run,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I¡¯m sick. Hence the stumbling.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± the first mugger said. ¡°Well, stumble on quickly now.¡± Then to his accomplice, he said, ¡°It¡¯s just our luck. What a night!¡±

    She could just make out the muttered reply of, ¡°Shut up, Thanvil.¡±

    Mirian stumbled back to the main avenue. While the absurdity of getting mugged three times in a row appealed to her, she didn¡¯t want to risk another encounter in case it went poorly. The next inn Mirian found, she stumbled into.

    It was late enough by now no one was at the counter and the kitchens were dark. There was a rope by the counter one was supposed to pull to ring a bell in the innkeeper¡¯s room, but she didn¡¯t have any coin so she saw no point in bothering them. Instead, Mirian made her way to one of the benches and just lay down.

    She woke to someone poking her. She groaned as she opened her eyes. A larger woman was looming over her, glaring. ¡°Hey. Hey. You can¡¯t sleep here. Buy a room or leave.¡±

    Mirian closed her eyes again. ¡°My train was delayed, I got sick, then I got mugged twice. No coin.¡±

    The woman stopped poking her. ¡°You do look¡­ awful.¡± For a moment, she didn¡¯t say anything. Then she said, ¡°I have an empty room. Just this once. And don¡¯t go spreading the word this place is a charity. We can call a cleric in the morning.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said, glad to finally have something break her way. ¡°Don¡¯t bother the cleric, though. It¡¯s non-intervenable.¡±

    When she got to the room, it felt good to splash water from the basin on her skin, and even better to lay down in the fluffy blankets. She fell asleep instantly.

    ***

    She woke in the morning, more out of habit than any sense of refreshment, and headed for the port market. When a man tried to pickpocket her just before the plaza, she had to roll her eyes.

    The reason there was so much crime soon became apparent. The neighborhoods near the station were fine enough, but the closer she got to the docks, the worse it got. Several clusters of shanties clogged some of the streets near the river, and north of the castle, more were set up. Shabby clothes and neglected buildings betrayed the fact that more people were living near the edge of poverty.

    It was one of those things that had never made sense to Mirian. Her family had never had much, and they were always finding ways to stretch their silver, but at least in Arriroba no one went hungry, and everyone had a roof over their head. Certainly no one was forced to live in dilapidated shacks, and down there, the Luminate Order took care of beggars, they didn¡¯t leave them to suffer on the streets. However, Mirian had also been a party to enough discussions in which her outlook on this had been labeled ¡®ignorant¡¯ that she tended not to speak her mind when the topic came up. While her talks with Nicolus had taught her something of economics, they¡¯d focused more on the political maneuverings of money, and not why this all seemed to be the inevitable result.

    Like so many things, it bothered her. But there was little enough she could do about it, especially now.

    Two guards each stood at the edge of every street that fed into the large plaza. Well, that¡¯s where they all are, Mirian thought. The market itself was packed, with every possible good being sold, from imported silk to bags of flour from the mills by the river. As she approached the market though, one of the guards put out a hand. ¡°No drunks and no vagabonds.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a limp from a childhood injury,¡± Mirian said as steadily as she could. ¡°My grandmother needs her medicine. If I may¡­?¡±

    The guard thought for a moment if he cared, and clearly decided he didn¡¯t. He lowered his hand and jerked his head toward the plaza.

    Her love of Cairnmouth plummeting to a new low, Mirian started sweeping through the market looking for the right stall. After an hour, she had to sit down for a while. The place was absolutely bustling, and just keeping herself from being jostled to death was an effort. She let her eyes sweep over the crowds of people. It was much like the Cairn River; places of fast currents where people swept through in droves, and eddies where forlorn merchants watched the crowds barely acknowledge them. She thought the person she was looking for might be more out of the way, and certainly not in one of the central spots that probably took more coin to reserve. Mirian took a deep breath and set out again, this time keeping to the edges of the plaza. Near the edges, where fountains ringed the market, there were smaller stalls and less people.

    At last, she found it. It was a little stand, with the pennant sewn into a cloth just like Professor Marva had described it. The cloth was draped over the stone lip of a fountain so that when the ocean breeze kicked up a soft spray drifted over the items. The man appeared to be selling packets of herbs and various elixirs, though Mirian only recognized a few.

    ¡°Hi,¡± she said.

    The man looked up, apparently surprised to actually have someone stopping by. Like many of the people in Cairnmouth, he had dark hair and olive skin, though something about him looked out of place. He was wearing gray clothing, the design of which had probably been inspired by someone reading the entry for ¡®nondescript¡¯ out of a dictionary. He had a sad look about him.

    ¡°Uh, ¡®the tempest is within me.¡¯ That mean anything to you?¡±

    The man looked at her, then surreptitiously glanced about to see how many people were nearby. With his wares by the fountain, there was noise that drowned out their conversation. He leaned back, stroking his chin with one hand while folding the other across his chest. It seemed like a casual movement, but it was the exact kind of thing every priest did when they wanted to access their focus.

    Mirian waited.

    ¡°That¡¯s quite interesting,¡± the man finally said, then began folding up his cloth across his wares so that it formed a bag. ¡°I didn¡¯t particularly want to sell anything today anyways. I¡¯d ask you to help carry things, but given the state you¡¯re in, I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re walking around. How are you walking around?¡±

    ¡°Stubbornness, I think. And maybe a little bit of spite and righteous fury.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not trained in¡­? Hm. I suppose you wouldn¡¯t need my help if you were. Now that is interesting. You should probably be in a coma. Come on, let¡¯s go somewhere safer.¡± He swung the now bagged up wares over his shoulder and picked up a satchel with his other hand. ¡°Lecne, by the way. No titles if you please.¡±

    ¡°Mirian,¡± she said. ¡°Pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡± She followed him, still exhausted, but she let herself have a small smile. She¡¯d escaped.

 Chapter 86 - The Heretic

    Mirian followed Lecne through various twisting alleyways. If he was trying to disorient her, he needn¡¯t have bothered; after the second turn down an angled alley, she¡¯d lost all sense of direction. The tall brick buildings in this part of the city and the narrow, winding streets made it impossible to keep her bearings. She¡¯d thought the eastern part of the city was claustrophobic, but clearly she¡¯d had no idea.

    Lecne could see Mirian¡¯s energy waning as her pace slowed. ¡°Almost there,¡± he promised.

    They stopped outside a thick door that was more patina than bronze set inside a robust looking brick building. Lecne set down the bags so he could press his hand to his chest again, then placed his other hand on the door. It opened soundlessly.

    Mirian was thankful to see that the inside of the building was much nicer than the outside. She shouldn¡¯t have been surprised, but the inside resembled a temple more than a dwelling. The floors were made of white marble, and the walls had murals depicting various stories of the Prophets and Gods. She recognized Carkavakom, depicted as a caged flame, his disembodied hand wielding a white sword. He was smiting someone. The mural across from it, she¡¯d never seen. It looked like a pale corpse surrounded by clusters of blood veins that resembled a forest, or perhaps a coral reef.

    ¡°I should mention you¡¯re sworn to secrecy about this place,¡± he said, setting his things on a nearby marble table. ¡°That¡¯s Zomalator, by the way,¡± he said, nodding toward the mural Mirian¡¯s gaze had fixed on. ¡°He¡¯s a bit underground, you probably haven¡¯t heard of him.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to¡­ pass out now,¡± Mirian said.

    She was pretty sure she heard Lecne swear as he dashed toward her, which seemed like a very un-priestly thing to do, but then the world turned black.

    The next memories were a blur as her consciousness faded in and out. She remembered being carried, and a basement room that smelled of incense and something metallic. At one point, her eyes opened and she saw more priests dressed in simple gray vestments, standing around her, each with a hand clasped to their chest.

    Once, when Mirian had a fever as a child, she remembered lying on her bed and feeling like the universe had contracted, and that everything had become the wrong size. In her current state, she found a similar feeling of delirium, one that made her own body feel distant and small. She began to perceive her own soul by accident, and watched in fascination as threads of light began to crack open the black tendrils encircling it.

    How much time passed after that, she wasn¡¯t sure, but suddenly, she could feel her own aura again and woke feeling rejuvenated.

    She felt wonderful¡ªexcept for her back. She seemed to be lying on the least comfortable mattress in existence. When she opened her eyes, she realized she was in a stone sarcophagus. The inside of the white marble was veined with bright red stone, making her think of the blood vein-like trees in the mural. She rose, and saw Lecne hunched over on one of the benches, breathing hard. On a nearby altar were the corpses of three pigeons, each withered and blackened. The incense sticks on the altar were still burning. It might have looked ominous, but the room was brightly lit with glyph lamps; nothing like what she would have imagined from a heretical cult of a God she¡¯d never heard of.

    ¡°Oh, good,¡± Lecne said. ¡°That went better than expected.¡± He glanced over at the pigeons. ¡°Didn¡¯t know what she used as the siphon so we improvised.¡±

    ¡°A moon flicker,¡± Mirian said. With no more brain fog, the answer came to her instantly, and her words came out without pauses or slurring. It was wonderful.

    ¡°Ah. Wouldn¡¯t have been able to find one of those in Cairnmouth anyways. Welcome back.¡±

    Mirian looked around the room. There were several statues of the Gods in the corner, though the wall was dominated by a painting of a colossal body lying dead on a great valley floor, similar to Zomalator, but the shape of the body was all wrong. Congregations of people surrounded the ivory corpse in prayer, while another group stood on the torso and appeared to be excavating it with what looked like mining equipment. The painting was packed with symbolism, most of which Mirian didn¡¯t recognize. ¡°Where are the other priests?¡± she asked, and climbed out of the sarcophagus to join Lecne on the bench.

    ¡°Back to mourning,¡± Lecne said. At her confusion, he added, ¡°We had, ah, a colleague pass away. Very suddenly. Sadly, not all of us can follow the rites to the letter. Someone has to keep this place running, as it were.¡±

    ¡°My condolences,¡± Mirian said.

    He nodded in acknowledgment. ¡°So who did you piss off? I¡¯m not just making conversation. I need to know if they¡¯re going to be battering down the door looking for you.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll certainly be looking for me. One of the agents may have seen me leave Torrviol, but she wouldn¡¯t have known to look out for me yet, and none of them will know my destination. Unless they identify and break, uh, the person who referred me to you.¡±

    ¡°Ghellia, it must have been. They¡¯re still up there teaching?¡±

    ¡°They are.¡±

    ¡°Good on them. Could never do it myself. Can¡¯t stand schools, and I certainly can¡¯t stand children.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s the Academy. Everyone¡¯s a young adult.¡±

    Lecne laughed. ¡°Look, I remember how stupid I was back then. Dealing with that many underdeveloped brains every day? Watching them strut about with delusional egocentrism? Dealing with their parents pulling strings about grades and tests? Dealing with Academy politics? No, I much prefer my quiet life of criminal heresy.¡± He looked at Mirian. ¡°I do need more details. Who¡¯d you piss off? The Deeps?¡±

    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    Mirian cocked her head. ¡°That¡¯s your first guess? So¡­ it¡¯s not unusual for the Department of Public Security to use necromancy?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a well-kept secret. Well-kept, because they¡¯ll absolutely kill someone who tries to make that information public. We¡¯re left alone mostly because we keep quiet, but you¡¯re not the first person I¡¯ve seen cursed by them. Won¡¯t be the last, either.¡±

    ¡°The Luminates also know.¡±

    ¡°Some of them. Sort of. They all know to turn in anyone with a soul-mark like you had, that¡¯s for sure. Some of them probably just assume it was another priest that put it there. Most of them probably never get around to learning the history of the Order. The¡­ unwritten agreements between the Order and the more shadowed parts of the government is a very uncomfortable topic these days. Say the wrong thing and you¡¯re likely to get expelled from your position, so people learn quickly to keep their mouths shut about it. Obviously, I¡¯m talking from experience. But why are they chasing you? You¡¯re still a student, unless I¡¯m mistaken.¡±

    ¡°Sort of,¡± Mirian said. ¡°There¡¯s a hive of Akanan spies in Torrviol, and I stepped right on their nest.¡± That was true, even if it didn¡¯t quite explain things.

    ¡°Akanan spies. But a Deeps agent cursed you?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s a double-agent, I think. She appears to have killed her colleagues, and one of the Praetorians.¡±

    ¡°Fascinating. I¡¯ve heard none of this, and I do keep my ear low to the ground. I wish Ghellia had sent me a letter. They know I love spy drama.¡±

    ¡°They probably don¡¯t know the details. Hey, you taught them soul magic, right? Can you teach me?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Lecne said quickly. ¡°Absolutely not. Nope. No chance.¡±

    Mirian frowned. ¡°May I ask why?¡±

    ¡°Because you¡¯re a total stranger. And more importantly, not a devout of Zomalator. We teach people in service of the redeemer, not because they stopped by for help.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± said Mirian glumly. How much convincing would he take? Would she have to come by in future cycles? She didn¡¯t look forward to having to puzzle through another set of conversations like she had with the Archmage.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome to stay here to lay low, as long as you help out around our little hidden temple. Cook, clean, that sort of thing. Actually, some of the anti-divination wards probably need some checking. Reinforcing them was the job of¡ª¡± Lecne¡¯s face fell. His colleague had died very recently then, and it was still wearing down on him.

    ¡°When did they die?¡± Mirian asked softly.

    ¡°Yesterday,¡± Lecne said, voice cracking.

    ¡°Then I can still save her,¡± Mirian said.

    There was a silence like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Then Lecne said, slowly, ¡°You dare. You dare. In the midst of my grief, you come into this holy place¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Mirian said, looking him in the eye. She could see his outrage, and hoped he could see her sincerity. ¡°In six days, there will be a revolt in Persama that gets out of control. Soon enough, it will threaten Alkazaria. News of it will reach Torrviol in eight days; I imagine you will learn of it at least a day sooner here. In eighteen days, the Akana Praediar embassy will be massacred, and riots will begin in Palendurio. In nineteen days, the Akanan Prime minister will be assassinated. A day later, you¡¯ll be able to see a magical geyser erupt south of the city, and the spellwards will fail. By the 25th of Solem, Cairnmouth will learn of the Akanan invasion heading for Torrviol. Soon after, you¡¯ll be able to see grand auroras across the sky heralding the end. And by the 4th of Duala, that end will come.¡±

    She could see the tears in Lecne¡¯s eyes. She spoke in a whisper, and let the truth pour out of her. ¡°You speak of grief. I know it. I¡¯ve watched my friends die far too many times. And as time marches on, I am always left alone in those memories, and that grief. But this is not the end. The true end is so distant I can¡¯t even imagine it, I know that now. So I will make this vow to you: your friend is not gone for good, only for this version of you. In some distant future, she will live¡ªboth of you will live. But I need your help.¡±

    Lecne¡¯s eyes were still watering. ¡°How. How can you¡ªmake this promise?¡±

    So Mirian told him. Of the loops, of the Battle of Torrviol, and of the other time travelers. She told him of the dreams of the Ominian, and the conspiracies that stretched across the Rift Sea. And she told him of the end that would come¡ªthat horrible sight of the Divir moon crashing down, of the sky turning to flame¡ªthat memory of apocalypse that was seared into her memory.

    Lecne was quiet for a long time when she finished, but Mirian was used to that.

    She let him contemplate what she¡¯d said, then asked: ¡°Did you see the hole in my soul?¡±

    Lecne nodded. ¡°I need to think,¡± he said.

    Mirian nodded. Most people did. Lecne didn¡¯t wander off, though. His gaze fell upon the grand painting that dominated the room. It was one of those paintings where the brushstrokes were so minuscule they were invisible and the details so meticulous it could have passed as a constructed illusion.

    ¡°You spoke of the stars shattering in your dream. You saw them?¡± he finally asked, voice sounding distant.

    ¡°Yes. No. It was¡ªI didn¡¯t see them. The Ominian did.¡±

    ¡°How many times have we talked?¡±

    ¡°This is the first time.¡±

    Lecne was silent again. ¡°The Luminate Order keeps many secrets. As one rises in the ranks, they learn more of those secrets.¡± Then he recited, ¡°And the people looked to the night sky, and the stars burst apart in great circles of misty flame. The people knew such a sight could only be the War of the Elder Gods come to Enteria. They prayed to the Guardian; that could be their only salvation.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s one of the secrets of the Order?¡±

    ¡°It is. Secret of the second layer, which is as high as I got before I left them. You speak of the Cataclysm.¡±

    Mirian blinked. ¡°But that was nearly 4000 years ago. Why would I dream¡­?¡±

    ¡°The Gods do not communicate with us through language. They are not of mankind, and when they see us making strange little noises to each other, they must perceive it like a man looming over an ant hive. Perhaps they only understand a little of what the tiny insects are doing, but what they understand beyond that is as incomprehensible to us as building a spell engine must be to a bug. But just as a man might communicate with ants through laying about sugary treats or caustic chemicals, the Gods sometimes deign to talk to us. You are a new prophet, that much is clear. Why there would be multiple prophets¡ªmultiple time travelers, I cannot say. Why one would choose to fight you is even less clear. But if you have been chosen, then it is my duty to help you.¡±

    Lecne stood. ¡°And it only reinforces my view of the Order as a hollowed-out institution that they did not flock to you before and raise the holy banners. The Gods do not talk to us of insignificant things.¡±

    Mirian stood with him, and held out her hand. They clasped hands, but to Mirian¡¯s surprise, he knelt down and kissed her knuckles.

    ¡°Old tradition,¡± he said, looking a bit embarrassed. ¡°But High Priestess Arenthia would have insisted.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s the one I¡¯m saving?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°You can really do it?¡±

    ¡°I can,¡± she answered. ¡°Let¡¯s get started. No sense in wasting time.¡±

 Chapter 87 - Hiding

    The Cult of Zomalator was a small bunch, but what they lacked in size they made up for in eccentricities. They spoke in both the ritualistic language of the Order and the unceremonious slang of the Cairnmouth streets. With Priestess Arenthia dead, the tacit assumption was that Lecne would lead them. Lecne seemed to still be in denial that he was the most senior priest of the sect, and corrected anyone¡¯s attempt to give him a new title.

    She met Pelnu when she helped out in the kitchens. The Cult had a small alms operation. They made sure the locals stayed fed and healthy, and in turn, the locals made sure everyone understood that no one mentioned the Cult to any authorities. Two of the local gangs did routine patrols around the neighborhood. Pelnu, apparently, had once been a part of the first, and regaled Mirian with various heists and adventures he¡¯d been on with them before joining the Cult.

    When she mentioned to Lecne she was surprised that such a man would become a priest, he said, ¡°That¡¯s who Zomalator is for. He¡¯s the Redeemer. The one who shows us that our past sins don¡¯t dictate our future. Who is greater: the man born good, or the man born evil who becomes good by his own dedication?¡±

    That was her first lesson in the heretical God they worshiped.

    There were others, too, apparently with similar backgrounds to Pelnu. Tlati had committed some horrible crime that she never mentioned, while Sethra had apparently walked the streets for a number of years before joining. Maruce had been a soldier serving in one of the garrisons down in Persama, but made it clear it was not something he wished to discuss. To each, prayers came as easy as curses, but when they held their sermons for their God, she could feel their dedication in the air, like a prickling electricity. Lecne¡¯s proclamation that she was a prophet meant more to them than anything they said to her in words. When they did pray, she knew she was in safe hands.

    As long as she stayed hidden, at least. She got restless not being able to leave the temple, but knew it was the best tactic. After examining the wards they had, she gave the specifications of what spells she¡¯d need to Pelnu, who apparently had done some unsanctioned casting as another way to make money. He came back with Mirian¡¯s own spellbook and ink set. ¡°Not an easy thing to fence,¡± he said. ¡°Seems they didn¡¯t realize how strict the magic shops are with checking arcanist credentials, and the Syndicates don¡¯t need this sort of basic shit. Got it for a steal.¡±

    ¡°Good!¡± Mirian laughed. ¡°That¡¯s how they got it.¡±

    When he watched Mirian scribe several dozen spells purely from memory, he got quiet. ¡°Damn,¡± he said when she was done. ¡°I know how hard that is to do, and damn. It¡¯s one thing to know, and another to believe.¡±

    Mirian spent a full day reinforcing the existing wards, then another day adding to them. The third day, she worked on inscribed stones that would further disrupt divination in an area, then gave them to Pelnu so he could scatter them all over the city so that the other time traveler¡¯s proxies couldn¡¯t locate her by process of elimination. He even left one on a train to Palendurio. No doubt legitimate diviners would be annoyed by the widespread disruptions, but her efforts were necessary.

    ¡°Your portraits, madam,¡± Lecne announced coming back from the market one day, and slapped down a mass-printed poster. It read, ¡®Wanted: Mirian Castrella - Warning - Dangerous necromancer - Murderer - Armed with magic - Capable of illusions - If sighted, report immediately - 250 gold doubloon reward if information leads to her capture.¡¯

    ¡°They got my hairline all wrong,¡± Mirian said, grimacing at the picture. ¡°And the nose¡ªugh. That is not what my nose looks like.¡±

    ¡°A neat trick,¡± Lecne said. ¡°Money is absolutely worthless if the timeline just resets, so offer as much as you want.¡±

    ¡°Not completely worthless. But yes. I generally like to take out the biggest loans I can. As long as they come due after the 5th of Duala.¡±

    Lecne snapped his fingers. ¡°We¡¯ll do it!¡± he said. ¡°Pelnu will have all the ingredients he¡¯s ever asked for. That¡¯ll make a lot of people happy. I think that counts for something.¡±

    ¡°If only for a little while,¡± she agreed.

    ¡°In the long term, we all end up dead. Even the Gods, on a long enough time horizon. What matters is the path we take. Every path is temporary; here it¡¯s just a matter of scale.¡± He sighed. ¡°It is¡­ but it is hard to understand that this me won¡¯t¡­ persist. The grand chain of memories, the path of history¡ªwill avoid this me. But it is good to know that some me will see Arenthia again.¡±

    There were duties Lecne had to attend to, and religious rituals, but when he wasn¡¯t busy, Mirian spent as much time as she could learning from him.

    ¡°All celestial magic requires a focus,¡± he said at their first lesson.

    ¡°A Tlaxhuacan man told me it¡¯s made from an ¡®elder reliquary,¡¯¡± Mirian said. ¡°Do you know why he¡¯d use that term? He was quite adamant it was the correct translation.¡±

    They were in the ritual room, so Lecne¡¯s eyes went to the grand painting as he thought. ¡°Interesting,¡± he said. ¡°Not sure. Maybe the higher secrets of the Order have some clues about that. Anyways, all celestial magic requires soul energy to power it. This doesn¡¯t mean you have to kill anything, by the way, but you can see why it¡¯s easy to accuse people of necromancy if you don¡¯t like them. For our purposes, we¡¯re going to define necromancy as the subset of celestial magic that involves death magic, disfiguring souls¡ªthat¡¯s a curse, you know about those¡ªor animating nonliving material with soul energy, which is definitely necromancy. However, if the Order comes knocking, they¡¯re not going to give a shit about technical definitions. Their classification of what ¡®necromancy¡¯ is comes down to ¡®people we don¡¯t like using soul magic,¡¯ and the Order is ruthless about this. Comes from needing to suppress the pagan religions during Unification War and consolidate power, but I doubt you care about the history.¡±

    Mirian had warmed on history slightly, though some parts still seemed boring. ¡°We¡¯ll skip that part of the lesson for now,¡± she said. She couldn¡¯t see how events that far back could be relevant to her present situation.

    Lecne reached back and unclasped an amulet he was wearing beneath his shirt, then brought it out and placed it on the table. It looked like stone, but it also looked like flesh. Something about the texture of the minerals looked like skin under a microscope, though the color was similar to the sarcophagus that was in the center of the room: white, with veins of pale and dark red minerals ran through it. Like Xipuatl¡¯s focus, it was imbued with subtly glowing runes, though the material had been kept in its rough, natural form, not carved and polished.

    When she touched it, it had the strange unreal feel, but the mood it emanated¡ªshe didn¡¯t know what else to call it¡ªfelt more like the necromancer¡¯s wand than the jade bird.

    ¡°Runes can only be carved on organic materials. Wood. Bone. Leather. Or paper.¡±

    Mirian turned the focus over in her hands. It looked for all the world like a rock. A strange rock, sure, but definitely a rock. ¡°Except for focuses.¡±

    Lecne said, ¡°Well, that¡¯s the question, isn¡¯t it? As I said, the Order might know more about that, but it would be in the higher circles of secrecy, and I never learned those. And I¡¯m not a theoretician. I like celestial magic because it helps people. Very practical.¡±

    ¡°So when a cleric heals someone, do they take from their own soul? Or the soul of the person they¡¯re healing?¡±

    ¡°For tiny wounds? A bit of both. Practically unnoticeable. But if it¡¯s a bigger wound, they¡¯re probably using a repository. Well, that¡¯s the official term. It¡¯s a soul battery. Sounds a bit crass, but that¡¯s what they are.¡±

    ¡°A soul battery?¡±

    ¡°You use specific runes to bind the soul energy in a container, like a skull or wooden statue. You know how the Order usually has someone blessing animals that are slaughtered for food?¡±

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Mirian¡¯s face must have betrayed her shock. ¡°Wait, really? Gods above¡ªso when we¡¯re having baduka boar for dinner¡ª?¡±

    ¡°That boar¡¯s spirit is also probably helping heal torn muscles or kitchen accidents over at the hospital. It¡¯s practical enough; the animal dies anyways. Might as well use all the bits. And the Gods seem not to mind. Well, most of them.¡±

    When it was laid out like that, celestial magic felt so much less mysterious. Xipuatl¡¯s right, she thought. All magic has to be a unified system. So many of the arcane physical laws seem the same. But as Nicolus would say, the Order has no political motivation to encourage research, because then it¡¯s undermining its own power. So they¡¯ve been suppressing it.

    It bothered her to think of the Luminate Order that way. They were holy¡ªshe¡¯d spent all her life going to the temple. Yet she had a hard time dismissing the way Nicolus described the forces motivating people and institutions. It had, after all, helped her talk to the power-brokers of Torrviol and mobilize people for the battle. But for the Order especially, she wanted to think better of them. But if they¡¯re better, why would the priests turn you in to the Arcane Praetorians? They¡¯re not supposed to answer to them.

    ¡°I¡¯ve done all my soul magic so far with plants,¡± Mirian said. ¡°So I know a few runes.¡±

    ¡°Plants. Huh. That seems¡­ harder? The focuses don¡¯t really interact with their souls very well. They¡¯re docile, though, whereas an animal soul will fight you. The instinct to live is powerful.¡±

    Mirian certainly could understand that. She still hated the idea of committing suicide, even if she¡¯d seen how it could be necessary for her given the conditions of the time-loop.

    Lecne started with basic meditation exercises and soul-observation, but quickly moved on when it was clear Mirian had already mastered that. When he started showing her various runes, though, all of them were new. She¡¯d expected some sort of overlap with what Xipuatl had taught her, but Lecne seemed unfamiliar with the runes she described, and when she attempted to make one with the soul of a garden plant, she was unable to get the rune to manifest using his focus.

    ¡°We¡¯ll leave plants to the Tlaxhuacans,¡± Lecne said. Then he began instructing her on basic rune creation.

    They used roaches¡ªthe damn things were everywhere, so they were easy enough to find. Mirian didn¡¯t like handling them, so she used a force grab spell to move them into position, then gently impaled them with the world¡¯s tiniest force spike.

    Lecne just picked them up and smashed them with his bare hands. ¡°Nothing more satisfying,¡± he proclaimed with a smile.

    Like arcane glyphs, the celestial runes created spells through complex sequences. And just like how different alchemical reagents were needed to form glyphs, different kinds of soul energy were needed for different runes. The basic runes could use almost any kind of soul, but as Mirian had started to learn from Xipuatl, some runes needed a very specific kind of soul, usually from a myrvite. Then, more soul energy was needed to pass through the runes in sequence, but unlike auric mana, which basically did what you wanted it to, the soul moved about on its own.

    Thankfully, Mirian seemed to have a knack for it.

    At one point, Lecne stared at her. ¡°This really is your first loop learning from me? I know you said you worked with this Xipuatl guy, but that was plants. This is¡­ are you just messing with me?¡±

    ¡°Promise,¡± Mirian said, and felt very pleased with herself. Soul magic was intuitive in a way that arcane magic never had been. Guiding auric mana felt like using math to calculate how to throw a dart and hit a marked wall. Guiding a soul felt like being able to eyeball the distance and just nail the target.

    Each day, Lecne would walk around the neighborhood. On the 8th of Solem, he came back with a newspaper. ¡°Not that I doubted you,¡± he said, handing it to her. One article covered the front page: the catastrophic defeat of the Baracuel garrison, the seizure of all three of the forts guarding the Southern Range passes, and the Persaman rebellion now threatening Alkazaria. The south riverlands were all panicked, and the article demanded the Baracuel assembly call for aid from Akana Praediar.

    Ironic, given what was about to happen.

    Mirian wondered what this southern time traveler¡¯s goal was. Whoever they were, they seemed as uninterested in stopping the apocalypse as this ¡°Sulvorath¡± who had attacked her in the north. She considered that even if Sulvorath hadn¡¯t sicced the Impostor and all her agents on her to stop her from defending Torrviol, this southern rebel might have caused the same outcome simply by drawing Fort Aegrimere¡¯s garrison south before Mirian could get it to come north. Of course, if the southern traveler¡¯s victories became big enough, the Akanans conspirators hiding behind it all might change their reaction when they saw Persama rising up and threatening them.

    This southern time traveler who was leading Dawn¡¯s Peace, she felt curiosity towards. She so badly wanted to know the experiences of another person like her, to hear their thoughts, to have another person to work with. But clearly, it was not a mindset she could assume they shared. She would have to approach them from a position of strength, which would be difficult because they¡¯d have an entire army at their back, and a mastery of the region¡¯s events.

    As for Sulvorath, she couldn¡¯t muster curiosity, just a burning hatred.

    While she¡¯d focused on protecting Torrviol through magic and strategy, he¡¯d clearly worked to master command of the intelligence apparatus, not just of Akanan Praediar, but of Baracuel as well. By the 12th, Lecne had managed to talk to one of his contacts in the Temple of Four, who in turn sometimes talked in secretive fine dining establishments with other people in high places.

    ¡°Whoever is going after you is getting pushback, at least,¡± Lecne told her as they ate dinner. He insisted Mirian sit at the head of the long table, while the priests all sat along the sides. Pelnu had cooked up some sort of delicious stew that was full of vegetables, aromatic spices and tender strips of flank steak and they were all eating it ravenously. ¡°All of a sudden, someone¡¯s pushing the manhunt for you hard. Seems to have originated somewhere in the Deeps. Only, the Praetorians have never heard of you, and the magistrate up in Torrviol denies filing the charges. The Deeps come back with a special order, but to do that they have to bypass the mayor, so all his bureaucrats are suddenly dragging their feet on everything, which gets the Deeps to pull back their order. This is all in addition to the city council getting pissed that they¡¯re having guards pulled for searches, because the big merchants suddenly have less bodies protecting their shipments, and one of them just got heisted because of that, so they¡¯re getting an earful from the big money. Still best to stay hidden, I¡¯d say, but they¡¯re no longer putting up the wanted posters, and the consensus is you¡¯re some nobody that isn¡¯t even in Cairnmouth, so what¡¯s the fuss?¡±

    Mirian nodded. ¡°He spent all that time making sure he could manipulate people in Torrviol, but this is probably his first time trying to influence Cairnmouth.¡± She ate another mouthful of soup, and contemplated it. Cairnmouth politics would be complicated. Nicolus had mentioned it a little bit. There were the big shipping companies, but then each of the noble households had a lot of sway. Then there were also the Syndicates, which the Deeps sometimes used, and sometimes did their own thing, but always were looking to keep their illicit money flowing. Then there were the crafting guilds in the west of the city, and the industrialists in the north, and that was just the basics she¡¯d learned about so far.

    ¡°Variables,¡± Mirian said, thinking aloud. ¡°There¡¯s always going to be background chaos, and the more complex the system, the harder to manipulate it. Do you have contacts in Palendurio?¡±

    ¡°Yeth,¡± Lecne said through a mouthful of stew. ¡°Therth another¡ª¡¯scuse me¡ªthere¡¯s another branch of the cult there. Why?¡±

    ¡°Nothing yet. But I think I have an idea of how to keep the other guy busy.¡± Even in Torrviol, small changes had meant it was impossible to predict the actions of certain people, even as some events always turned out basically the same. The more chaos she introduced into the timeline, the harder it would be for Sulvorath to see a pattern. Even something simple, like getting a priest down in Palendurio to wave a Persaman flag around in the public square would introduce a multitude of small changes. Hundreds of people would see it, then act differently around thousands of more.

    Random changes, meaningless to her goals, and different in each loop, would cause confounding variables to hamper the other time traveler. It was like that airship she¡¯d seen in the forest¡ªprobably Sulvorath¡¯s now that she thought about it. He could land it in a new place each time, and so the effort he expended to gain an advantage was a hundred-fold less than the effort she would have to expend to find the airship. He wanted to hunt her? Fine. He could have a hell of a time looking.

    She started thinking about all the small changes she could make that would require little effort from her, but might have a larger effect on events in different cities across Baracuel. She¡¯d have to target the Praetorians and the Deeps especially¡ªkeep them busy so that they didn¡¯t actually want to find her. For example, encouraging the criminal underworld to act out in Cairnmouth would put more pressure on the guards and agencies to ignore her. She was a nobody as the timeline started, and she could use that to her advantage.

    Then, while the other traveler was busy with that, she could find a way to deal with him.

    She had her own advantages. He¡¯d used the Impostor to curse her, which implied that even after all this time, he didn¡¯t actually know soul magic. So that would be her first task. If she mastered soul magic here, she could gain a critical advantage.

    ¡°Can you teach me to use soul magic to disguise myself? Like what Marva does?¡± Mirian said at last. An undetectable, undispellable disguise might even let her start operating in Torrviol under his nose.

    Lecne took another bite. ¡°I suppose so. We¡¯ll get there soon enough, if you keep learning at this pace. But it doesn¡¯t work like you think it does.¡±

    ¡°Sounds exciting,¡± Mirian said. She was eager to get her new plan started.

 Chapter 88 - Seeds of Chaos

    Mirian and Lecne worked to plan her return for the next cycle. She studied maps of Cairnmouth, and Lecne recalled the schedule he followed on the first three days of the month as best he could. More, they planned how to save High Priestess Arenthia.

    ¡°I probably won¡¯t succeed the first time,¡± Mirian said apologetically. ¡°I have to stay hidden in the shadows.¡±

    Lecne nodded. ¡°Too much is at stake. I understand. That¡¯s why you¡¯ll appreciate what I¡¯m about to teach you.¡± He pulled out a thick tome that was packed full of elaborate illustrations of souls.

    One could never actually depict auras, mana, or souls. They were beyond the basic senses; there was no sensory organ dedicated to it. The human brain came up with analogies as best it could, and everyone¡¯s was slightly different. Classic magical texts described assembling a spell as ¡®weaving¡¯ because it was a group of weavers who¡¯d come up with the instructional system that came to dominate Baracuel. One could imagine it as a painting with a brush, or as assembling colored prisms, or growing plants¡ªthere really wasn¡¯t a limit¡ªso long as it helped the mind put the mana in the right glyphs at the right time.

    Souls were similar, though it seemed Mirian¡¯s conception of her soul as a flowing thing of light was common enough. The tome depicted the concepts as best it could, then tried to describe what each part of the soul was, and what changing it would affect.

    ¡°Classic healing just involves stimulating the soul with relatively simple energy currents near the wound. Finding the wound is easy, because you can see a disruption in the soul¡¯s current,¡± Lecne said. ¡°This is also why determining the kind of infection is important. Different sicknesses seem to be caused by different things¡ªtoo small to see, but there¡¯s some amazing work being done on it in Palendurio. Maybe one day we¡¯ll know more. Some of those things seem not to be affected by soul energy, but other infections will get worse when infused. Hence non-intervenable diseases.¡±

    ¡°That makes a lot of sense,¡± Mirian said. ¡°So since the body is a reflection of the soul, changing it in the right place could change¡­ how you look.¡±

    ¡°Precisely,¡± Lecne said. ¡°But it¡¯s not like an illusion. It causes an actual, physical change. Reversible, of course, but it shares the same mechanics as a curse¡ªthe modification of the soul. A great cure for body dysphorias. Most people only make the change once, unless they¡¯re like Marva. Ah, hope they¡¯re doing well.¡± He gave a loud sigh. ¡°Then of course, there¡¯s the people who try to get taller or make subtle changes so they better conform to beauty standards. That never goes well. The soul is as complicated as the body, and certain traits cannot be changed simply, and attempting those changes can cause one to accidentally cripple themselves. Or worse, there¡¯s the ones who can¡¯t leave the mind alone. They want to implant memories, say, of a skill, or forget something painful, or use it to control others. Messing with the mind generally has two outcomes: brain damage or death.¡±

    ¡°Same as with arcane spells,¡± Mirian said, though of course, there were the mental-component spells like illusions that seemed to tap into the mind. What makes one kind safe and the other deadly? she wondered. That said, it was a curiosity she was reluctant to indulge, because permanently screwing up her mind through her soul might very well be irreversible.

    ¡°There¡¯s other texts on the matter,¡± Lecne said, gesturing around the temple library. ¡°But this one is probably the best. Always preferred the books with pictures,¡± he added with a laugh.

    They spent the rest of the evening going through the diagrams, with Mirian working to map out her soul. Despite her knack for it, it was still an arduous process, and one that would take several weeks to complete, even at her accelerated pace.

    The massacre in Palendurio set everyone on edge, and paranoia gripped the city. Rumors spread like wildfire.

    When there was the magical eruption north of the city two days later, the distrust and fear only intensified. Some said it was Akanan sabotage, leading to riots by the port and the burning of an Akanan ship. Mirian ate up the newspapers, and compared them to what she remembered of the news that had made it up to Torrviol. She¡¯d heard of the riots here before, but they were subtly different. That there would be riots seemed practically predetermined. Exactly how they played out seemed to have a random element.

    Meanwhile, Cult¡¯s members doubled down in their dedication, the accuracy of her predictions fueling their faith.

    ¡°Blessing and a curse,¡± Maruce, the former soldier, told her. ¡°Pity that a new prophet should come in our time. More the shame it didn¡¯t start earlier. Plenty of other things I wish you could change,¡± and when he said that, he got a distant look about him and muttered, ¡°See our sanctuary, and have mercy. See our shrine, and help it light the path you have set for us.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a Persaman prayer, isn¡¯t it?¡± Mirian said as the words sparked something in her memory.

    ¡°What? Oh. Didn¡¯t know you knew¡ªyeah. Learned it down in the¡­ well. Don¡¯t like to talk about it. I do wonder what the Ihseer and the Church of the Ominian think about all this. Most people in Persama don¡¯t believe in prophets the same way we do, and the Akanans think that there¡¯s just the two prophets. Lotta people are gonna have their faith shaken before this is over.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian agreed. She was already one of them.

    Before the cycle ended, Mirian went over Arenthia¡¯s execution again with Lecne.

    ¡°Tell me what you remember,¡± Lecne said.

    ¡°The execution takes place at the Temple of the Four, in the plaza of Shiamagoth.¡± She made a face. Having an execution in front of the statue of the Protector of Life seemed blasphemous to her. ¡°The execution is at noon on the 2nd. There¡¯s a small crowd gathered, two Praetorians, and two priests.¡± She went through the other details they¡¯d discussed. Lecne had made her study a map of the temple and the streets that surrounded Second Cairn, the hill the temple sat upon. She drew it from memory, then together they compared it to his map and they made corrections.

    ¡°If I had any idea how to stop it¡­¡± he said.

    ¡°You would have. I know,¡± Mirian said, putting a hand on his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ve only known you for this short while, but it¡¯s clear to me you¡¯re a good man.¡±

    Lecne gave her a sad smile. ¡°Wasn¡¯t always. Remember that. Everyone can change. For the better, for the worse. I believe that even in the worst circumstances, we have a choice.¡±

    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.

    ***

    ¡°Lily, I have to go,¡± Mirian told her, much like she had the last cycle. ¡°Do what you need to do. When people come looking for me, tell the truth: that I¡¯m gone, and you don¡¯t know where.¡± Then she added, ¡°Also, could you spread a rumor that Professor Eld is having an affair with Mayor Wolden?¡±

    Lily blinked several times. ¡°You give me this weird speech about leaving and then¡ªwhat? You want me to what!?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s going to mess things up for the person hunting me,¡± she said. ¡°And what I just said will make sense later. Probably. Love you roomie, you¡¯re the best.¡± Then she headed for the train station.

    The first task was to figure out what was going wrong with the locomotive¡¯s spell engine that caused the delay. She didn¡¯t bother with any disguise spell, she just told the arcane engineers the truth: that she¡¯d studied artifice extensively and she could help, and that she really needed for the train to be on time. One of them quizzed her on conduits and glyph sequences. When she answered his questions easily, he tried harder ones, and when she answered those, he said, ¡°Alright. But if my supervisor asks, you tell him you just are interested in trains, yeah?¡±

    The engine was surprisingly complex. Fundamentally, the spell engine just needed to transform arcane energy from the fossilized myrvite fuel into kinetic energy, which was a simple enough sequence. Early engines had done just that¡ªand then gone out of control and crashed. This engine had all sorts of safety features, which meant feedback loops and physical switches that triggered if the divination wards in the engine detected any of the pre-programmed problems. More glyphs regulated mana flow and the rate the fuel was consumed.

    There were also a lot of conduits and repetitive glyph sequences to make sure power was distributed evenly to the wheels, and then another set of wards that made sure the arcane forces the train was putting out wouldn¡¯t interfere with the spellward.

    While the arcane engineers ran diagnostics, Mirian went through their diagrams of the engines and checked for broken glyphs. At first, it was frustrating because everything looked like it should be working. After several hours, though, she located the problem. ¡°The rho-vin-sier sequence efficiency is too low. The glyphs are partially melted, which means the sier glyph¡¯s magichemistry was altered just enough to act like a tlur glyph. There¡¯s insufficient mana flow to activate anything else down the chain.¡±

    One of the engineers stared at her. ¡°You really do know your stuff,¡± he said. Then, ¡°Of course. The tertiary divination wards would pick up the decreased flow and force a shutdown, but the diagnostic tools aren¡¯t fine-tuned enough to differentiate same-family glyphs like that. No wonder!¡±

    Another of the engineers looked crestfallen. ¡°We don¡¯t have any more of that part in inventory,¡± she said.

    ¡°I can help make it,¡± Mirian said quickly. So that was why it took so long to repair.

    One of the engineers had to go get copper wire and a specific magichemical from the market forum, but with Mirian helping them with the artifice, that let them depart two hours earlier than they otherwise would have, which would give her that much more time to get in position in Cairnmouth.

    More importantly, the next cycle, she could craft and replace the part before they even knew there was a problem.

    ***

    As she sat on the train, Mirian thought through her plan. It would be a problem if this Sulvorath person noticed that a heretic previously slated for execution was saved in every cycle after a certain point. Executions were always noted in newspapers, and a heretic suddenly going on the run would certainly make headlines. She needed to find a way to save Arenthia without anyone knowing something was amiss.

    She also needed to find a way to keep the other time traveler¡¯s eyes elsewhere. Filling the newspaper with other stories might certainly do the trick. It would be even better if she was nowhere near the locations of the incidents.

    Mirian had probably spent more total time learning artifice than anything else, but rarely in a cycle had she put it to use. Sure, she¡¯d helped Professor Torres craft her special artillery piece, created scrying devices, and made more wands than she could count, but artifice took a lot of time and materials, and when it had come to the battle to save Torrviol, strategic direction had done far more than a few extra guns or wands.

    Now, however, it might become extremely useful. She knew the glyphs for levitation now. They were far more efficient than using kinetic energy to lift an object, especially if it was small. With Respected Jei¡¯s crystal-manipulation spells, she could create conduit crystals without any of the machinery normally needed, and make them with thread-like thinness. Fossilized myrvite was cheap, ubiquitous, and incredibly energy-dense. There were a lot of designs she could make with very few tools, meaning it could be done in the cult¡¯s hidden temple at no risk to her.

    As the train rumbled on, Mirian sketched out drafts of her design in her notebook.

    Her first few plans were overly complicated, and she threw them out. She would need to craft far too many glyphs, and the complicated mechanisms were sure to fail periodically. The next devices she designed were too heavy; she was so used to working with brass, copper, and steel in quantity, but her device didn¡¯t need to be resilient¨Cquite the opposite, in fact.

    Mirian finally settled on a design she liked. Most of its weight would be in the fossilized myrvite fuel it carried. It would need a thin brass frame to support it, quartz for the conduits, and a few dozen glyphs. The basic function was this: once it was activated, the device would levitate itself for about a half an hour in a random direction, then it would stop and plummet to the ground. Any hard impact on the device would shatter the spindly conduits, causing a rapid exomyric reaction in the glyphs positioned just above the fossilized myrvite. That, in turn, would cause the magical fossil fuel to burn rapidly. The arcane energy, without regulation, would turn almost entirely into heat, and would utterly incinerate the device¨Cand make whatever it was next to catch fire.

    Unlike a magical artillery shell, it wasn¡¯t designed to explode or kill, just to burn. Most of the time, it would just burn itself up, destroying the evidence of how it was made, which was key. Sometimes, it might start a small fire that any decent arcanist could put out in no time. The idea wasn¡¯t to do damage¨Cquite the opposite. But every device would cause people nearby to act differently, and done early enough in the cycle, it would have unpredictable knock-on effects.

    Better yet, she could set the devices to activate on a time-delay, then set them on the trains going south to Palendruio and beyond. Since the mechanism was internal, the shell of the device could be a canvas bag, or really anything lightweight. They would look totally innocuous, right up until they started flying.

    Pleased with herself, Mirian titled her invention seed of chaos.

    There were other seeds of chaos she could plant easily too.

    Mirian started writing letters, addressed to random government officials. One letter demanded the Bureau of Royal Taxes audit one of the businesses owned by the noble Allard family. Another letter asked the Governor of Palendurio to investigate corruption in the Department of Public Security. Another was to a merchant Nicolus¡¯s uncle had mentioned a few times in his letters who she knew was going to be shipping out of Palendurio asking for details about a business investment, with a return address listed at a completely fake location west of Alkazaria. A few of the letters had to do with the conspiracy, but most she wrote with entirely random demands or messages, and with no idea what effect they would have.

    But she knew that they would change the behavior of those people ever so slightly, even if that change was just to rant to a fellow bureau worker about how stupid some of the letters they got were. Mirian hoped the Royal Courier who read her letter about the birds actually all being secret spy constructs made by the dastardly Persamans found the letter funny.

    At the end of the train ride, Mirian used a minor disguise spell to appear like a younger messenger, the kind who routinely moved letters for a small fee, then dropped them (and coin to send them) off at the Royal Couriers where they would slowly make their way across Baracuel.

    Then she stopped by the market, changing her disguise for each purchase, to buy up the brass and magichemicals she needed for her flying ¡®seeds.¡¯ The market closed soon after, and she bought a room and meal at an inn just down the hill from the Temple of the Four.

    In the morning, she¡¯d head toward the temple and see what she could learn about the high priestess.

 Chapter 89 - Conceiving the Plan

    The Temple of the Four stretched across the top of Cairnmouth¡¯s second great hill. Four colossal statues of the Gods looked out across the city from each corner, and behind them lay the monumental architecture of the temple complex itself. The temple resembled a fortress as much as the Cairnmouth Castle did on the other hill; huge walls stretched between each statue, and several towers surrounded the domed keep in the center. Unlike the small temples in towns, this one was the seat of an archbishop, and therefore had a contingent of Luminate Guards. Two stood by each of the four gates wearing their shining ceremonial armor atop their dark robes. The gold leaf on the pauldrons reflected brightly where it caught the morning sun.

    Large gardens, full of stonework and magical fountains surrounded the temple, while beyond that lay dozens of mansions housing many of the richer families in Cairnmouth. This meant in addition to the Luminate Guards, Mirian could see private mercenaries observing the area from balconies, and the Cairnmouth Guard routinely patrolled the streets of the area. Mirian¡¯s clothes weren¡¯t even shabby¨Cher parents had spent quite a lot of coin on them¨Cbut the haughty looks she got just walking through the neighborhoods surrounding the hill made it clear she was out of place.

    It was not the ideal area to attempt any sort of prison-break.

    Mirian analyzed the styles of the various nobles, noting the embroidery and fabrics. She found a tailor who was happy to tell her all about the latest trends in fashion (Mirian knew just enough terms from talking to the tailor in Torrviol who¡¯d helped make her Akanan uniform disguise), and it was a good thing she did. Apparently, each piece was not just a statement of wealth, but of political allegiance. Mixed gold and silver embroidery signaled an alignment with the financiers of the banking families, and adding silver tassels to that signified a relationship with the noble Allard family. Wearing imported silks from Zhighua, dyed with indigo imported from Tlaxhuaco, on the other hand, signified an allegiance to the circles of prominent merchants and several of the guilds.

    The tailor advised her on several neutral options¨Cthat was, that she was rich enough to belong, but not rich enough to be tied up in the games of the affluent. Mirian thought that a deep violet dress and a matching coat with brass buttons fit her style, though it was far more expensive than the coin she had. She also didn¡¯t want to set up an account at any of the banks to get a loan, as that might offer a way to track her.

    Instead, she used a major illusion spell. After that, the glares faded away, and she may as well have cast a spell of invisibility.

    Walking the neighborhood was helpful, as it helped her pick out the major routes and minor ones, as well as get a sense of the guard patrols. The wealthiest people didn¡¯t even walk the streets, they rode by horse-drawn carriage or a fancy spell wagon. The guards seemed to know all the drivers, as all it took was a mutual nod and they were waved through the decorated arched gates that divided the Second Cairn district from the poorer sections beyond. Merchants delivering goods had their carts routinely searched.

    She headed for the temple next. Despite the Temple of the Four supposedly being open to anyone¡ªthey were all supposed to be equal in the eyes of the Gods¨Cthere were barriers on who could actually come hear the sermons, be blessed, or see the resplendent statues and paintings that lined the halls.

    Mirian dropped her illusion as she approached the temple. There would be suppression wards because magic was forbidden in temples, and there was no sense getting arrested on criminal mischief charges.

    She walked the corridors of the Temple of the Four, both appreciating the monumental architecture and detailed artwork and casing the routes she might take. Like most temples, this one was lit by torches and candles, with few windows for sunlight. The stone reliefs loomed out of the walls as if to confront any passers by. The flickering torchlight illuminated grand paintings of the history of the Luminate Order, though the only scene she recognized was from the Unification War.

    The sheer number of gates, wards, and people roaming the halls quickly dissuaded her from trying to simply break Priestess Arenthia out of her holding cell. The cells were in one of the towers, and the tower Arenthia was in could only be entered in through a hall that was barred with a steel portcullis. Beyond that, it was protected by two guards, and she could tell the door they stood before was using glyph keys and anti-divination wards. The windows of the tower were only just wider than arrow slits and had iron bars across them. Given enough cycles, she knew she could likely solve all the defenses, layer by layer, but with this Sulvorath looking for her, the repetitive attempts would be too easy to detect. Dying or being captured early in the cycle would put her at a disadvantage; she would have that much less time to learn and grow compared to her fellow travelers.

    She wandered out to the walled garden in front of the statue of Shiamagoth instead, where they were already preparing for Arenthia¡¯s semi-public execution. It would be the usual death by firing squad.

    One of the guards saw her spellbook dangling from its chain by her side. ¡°No spellcasting near the temple,¡± he said, as if she didn¡¯t know the rules of the Luminate Temples.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dream of it,¡± she said.

    The walled garden had a large open plaza where the execution would take place. The colossal statue of Shiamagoth loomed over it, wearing His crown of eyes that stared down. The aegis He wielded was made of old myrvite bones, while the scepter He carried in His fourth hand had a fire burning in it, maintained by faithful acolytes day and night. The beds of flowers and saplings in the garden around the plaza gave no cover¡ªbut spellcasting didn¡¯t require Mirian to see the area she was divining. The same walls that protected the plaza of Shiamagoth would be perfect cover, and the other gardens were more verdant and wild, giving her far more places to hide from patrols.

    Mirian only had a single divination spell she¡¯d been able to scribe at the inn. She found a secluded spot behind a rotunda at the edge of the gardens where the brush was thick and cast it. It didn¡¯t give her any details, but it did tell her what she suspected: that both detection and suppression wards were all over the gardens.

    She also suspected there were wards using celestial magic, which she wouldn¡¯t be able to detect without a focus.

    Since there was no way she could rescue Arenthia this cycle without sending out a flare that would mark exactly where she was, she sat down on one of the wooden benches prepared for the event and watched.

    High Priestess Arenthia¨Cintroduced simply as ¡®this convicted heretic,¡¯ by the guards, was short, boney-looking, but had a stern presence to her. Her peppered gray hair was cut short, and from the cuts and bruises about her, she had not been treated well during her short stay in the tower dungeon.

    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    It went about much the same as other executions Mirian had seen. The executioners wore smooth bone masks, with lines painted on them to make them look as if they were full of cracks. The lead executioner asked first if she wanted to be blindfolded. She gave a terse, ¡°No,¡± and then when asked if she had any last words, she repeated her answer. She looked worried as the four guards each raised a rifle, but also resigned.

    The crowd that gathered was small, and watched mostly in silence. Most of the crowd was made up of older adults, but a few parents instructed their children on how to behave and feel. One young boy looked terrified, while another sat with perfect poise, as if he were simply attending a sermon.

    The Luminate Priest gave a brief speech on the dangers of heresy, and then blessed Arenthia.

    Four rifles cracked out, echoing loudly off the stone walls, and Arenthia fell, blood spattering the short stone wall behind her. She crumpled to the ground soundlessly. The priest covered her body with a yellow shroud, and then two of the executioners picked her up and brought her back through the gates of the temple.

    The crowd began to disperse, murmuring softly.

    ¡°I like it better when they beg,¡± an older woman complained to her husband. ¡°Didn¡¯t even give a speech!¡±

    ¡°One less criminal heretic in the world,¡± a father told his daughter. ¡°The world is safer now. Nasty work, but it must be done. Do you understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, father,¡± the girl said.

    Three rows over, the little boy she¡¯d seen earlier was sobbing softly, and his mother had a disgusted look about her. Everyone ignored each other as they departed.

    Mirian knew the body would be taken to a crematorium some distance from the temple. The Temple of the Four had its own crematorium, but heretics were not allowed to have their ashes pollute it.

    She went searching for the cart, recasting her illusionary disguise as soon as she was off the temple grounds. Whatever direction it took, she had no idea. She made a mental note to scribe an arcane eye spell (enhanced to be extra small so others would find it hard to see) for the next cycle. With no leads, she went searching for the nearest crematoria. As soon as she exited the richer district, she changed her disguise so that again she wouldn¡¯t stand out.

    ¡°I¡¯m new in town, but my grandpa isn¡¯t long for this world. Best to have it all planned out ahead of time, don¡¯t you think?¡± Mirian lied to one of the guards she found patrolling beyond the Second Cairn hill. Unlike the guards on the hill, his uniform was a bit more ragged, and his tabard had a rust stain on it.

    ¡°Dunno. None in this neighborhood. Check north-east. Anything with a smokestack is over there. If you reach the mills by the river, you¡¯ve gone too far. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me¡­?¡±

    Mirian bid him farewell. Asking a few more locals got her mostly strange looks and terse replies, but finally an older man directed her to one. It looked like a house with too many chimneys. When she asked, though, the woman running it said, ¡°Expected deliveries? Expected deliveries? Do you mean charcoal or bodies? Neither is polite to ask about. Did no one ever teach you manners? Please have a bit more respect for the dead. Now piss off.¡±

    She waited a bit outside the place, but no cart came by, so she headed off to the market to meet Lecne for the first time again.

    ¡°The tempest is within me,¡± Mirian told him, then waited patiently for him to examine her soul.

    His eyes widened as he saw not just the hole in her soul, but the nearly imperceptible mark he had left last cycle. He looked at her, shocked. ¡°How? I don¡¯t remember¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be happy to explain it at your place,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I can lead us there.¡±

    And she went off to learn soul magic again.

    ***

    The next cycle, Mirian spent more of her time on the train scribing divination spells. Her ¡®seeds of chaos¡¯ design had mostly worked last cycle. She¡¯d released three, levitating the bags atop a train to Palendurio. One of them had certainly worked, as a five line story in one of the newspapers from the first capital had mentioned a strange warehouse fire that no one could explain. This time, she¡¯d send more of her ¡®chaos letters¡¯ through the Royal Couriers after she¡¯d settled down in the temple. The cult priests there could get one of their street contacts to deliver them.

    Mirian had to establish her arcane eyes far from the temple so that none of the wards would pick them up. Fortunately, any cart large enough to carry a person was easily visible from some distance. Problematically, the Temple of the Four had dozens of various deliveries throughout the morning, and at least eight carts left the temple shortly after the execution. She was able to rule out several of them as she moved her arcane eyes farther out, but Second Cairn hill had at least a dozen gates around it, and she could only maintain and monitor four arcane eyes; any more and she started to get a headache.

    She crossed another crematorium off her list. Lecne and his contacts had helped by telling her about four more scattered throughout the city, but with most of the carts heading northwest to the docks, she thought she¡¯d narrowed down which one it would be. Briefly, she visited it and confirmed that they incinerated prisoner corpses. ¡°And anything else you need burned, long as your silver weighs pure,¡± the man said with a wink.

    By now, she had begun to formulate her rescue plan, but there were a few things she needed to straighten out. She knew the destination; next, she could start to build a solid cover for it.

    ¡°Lecne,¡± she said after she¡¯d reestablished their partnership in that cycle, ¡°Can you get me in contact with some of the criminals around here? I have an idea for saving Arenthia, but it involves¡­ well, is there a black market for selling dead bodies?¡±

    Lecne rolled his eyes. ¡°Is there? My dear, this is Cairnmouth.¡±

    ¡°Right. So¡­ can you get me in contact with one of them?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. We¡¯ve tried to distance ourselves as far as we can from folks who handle bodies, because everyone suspects you¡¯re a necromancer if you start dealing for corpses, even though it¡¯s actually the scientists and the doctors who buy most of them. And sometimes the Syndicate. Ten years ago it would have taken me a day. But the underworld shakes about a lot here. Anyone I knew back then is either reformed, run off, or dead. But I¡¯ll look.¡±

    As he looked, Mirian continued her studies, and let loose more seeds. A ship in Cairnmouth caught fire, and the Bardas family that owned it launched an investigation, though they suspected the Corrmier family of sabotage, not a random student. There was also a minor brushfire south of Palendurio that only earned mention in a single broadsheet.

    ***

    The next cycle, Mirian interviewed two criminals about how they ran things, meeting them in disguise at a nearby tavern. Then, she risked several trips to the gardens outside the temple and continued her work of documenting where all the wards in the garden were. Near the end of the cycle, she convinced Lecne to let her borrow a focus, and confirmed what she suspected: that the Luminates had used celestial magic to protect the area as well.

    There was no way she could disable all the arcane and celestial wards by herself. She¡¯d need help. As Pelnu had mentioned, there were all sorts of folks willing to offer spells for coin. But as he¡¯d also said, ¡°But you don¡¯t want slapdash casting for what you¡¯re planning. The only reliable black market spellcasters for hire are from the Syndicates. Oliema could tell you about how they operated about thirty years back, but she¡¯s long reformed and no one keeps in touch with them now. Would be a bit too bright of a torch to carry, you know?¡±

    So the next cycle, Mirian knew she had at least two days before the other traveler arrived in Torrviol. It would be just enough time. She found Nicolus up by the lake that evening, then got him to convince Nurea the next morning as she had so many cycles ago.

    Over breakfast, she asked Nurea, ¡°Who do you know in the Cairnmouth Syndicate?¡±

 Chapter 90 - Preparing the Heist

    It took some convincing to get Nurea to cough up her contact in the Syndicate, but with Nicolus¡¯s cajoling, she finally did. Afterward, she gave Nicolus fair warning that someone might be coming after them. Likely, Nurea would have them both out of the Torrviol shortly after Mirian. Hopefully, that would keep Sulvorath even busier.

    Mirian spent a few more hours in Torrviol spreading rumors and taking out a loan so she could purchase artifice materials. Based on the travel times of the Akanan airships she¡¯d researched, Mirian was pretty sure Sulvorath couldn¡¯t change how fast he made it to Torrviol, but it also wasn¡¯t something she was going to risk. She boarded the train while maintaining a minor disguise spell, and made sure to avoid the under-cover spy that worked at the train station. No doubt it was obvious she wasn¡¯t staying in Torrviol, but hiding her departure times would make her that much more difficult to track down.

    Nurea¡¯s contact was named Ravatha, and Nurea had reluctantly given Mirian a code phrase she could use to get a real conversation with her. Ravatha owned a small pastry shop near the train station. It only took a few minutes to walk to.

    The shop was innocuous enough. It had the same colored plaster and wood finish as the nearby buildings, and had two nice planters full of bright flowers in front of it. The inside smelled fantastic, too. It may have been a front for criminal dealings, but they also made excellent pastries.

    Mirian told the man working the counter, ¡°Hi, I¡¯m here to see Ravantha. She asked for some information about the seasonal cider from Torrviol.¡± When the man¡¯s facial expression shifted subtly, she continued. ¡°She¡¯ll want to know the Ton Ton apples are dealing with a scarabite infestation.¡±

    The man at the counter blinked at her, face stony.

    Mirian said, ¡°You did hear me, right? Seasonal cider, Ton Ton, scarabite.¡±

    The man sighed and said, ¡°Kid, I don¡¯t know you. Whatever you think you¡¯re doing, you¡¯re in over your head. Go home.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s temper flared. It was so annoying to be treated as a child when she¡¯d led a Gods¡¯ damned battle and won. She placed her hand on the spine of her spellbook to tap into the catalyst, then used raw magic to pull a nearby knife from one of the cutting boards. Gathering kinetic force, she plunged it into the wooden counter about three inches deep, fast enough that a curl of smoke rose from where the blade had entered.

    The man pulled out his concealed pistol.

    Mirian stared at him. ¡°Try it,¡± she said.

    He took her at her word and tried to pull the trigger. Mirian couldn¡¯t stop a bullet with raw magic yet, but she could use magnetic force to prevent the trigger in the gun from moving. After giving him a few moments to try, she yanked the revolver away from him, then opened it up and poured the bullets on the counter. ¡°I want to see Ravatha. Please,¡± she spat.

    The man looked at the knife, then the bullets on the counter then said, ¡°Yeah. Fine,¡± and went into the back. A minute later, he said, ¡°Upstairs. Leave the spellbook in that drawer over there,¡± he said, gesturing at a small desk at the foot of the stairs.

    ¡°Sure,¡± said Mirian with a fake smile, and stuffed it inside.

    Ravantha could have been Nurea¡¯s sister, not because they looked all that similar, but because they wore the same stern face and cultivated the same attitude. She wore the wand and pistol at her belt casually, and her steely blue eyes matched her steel gray hair.

    ¡°Nurea doesn¡¯t send other people to do her business. Explain,¡± Ravantha said as an introduction.

    ¡°I asked her for your information. She gave it to me because I¡¯m working on a project that will benefit the Sacristar family in the long term, but I have things I need to do first. I need to hire an arcanist.¡±

    Ravantha examined Mirian. ¡°Talk to the arcanist guilds.¡±

    ¡°I need someone who can examine and then disable wards by the Temple of the Four.¡±

    The older woman raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Also, a driver and laborer who can help nab¡­ a body. And keep silent about it.¡±

    ¡°People notice when bodies go missing,¡± Ravantha said. ¡°Live ones especially, but dead too.¡±

    ¡°Not if they¡¯re dead and scheduled for incineration,¡± Mirian said. ¡°If everyone plays their part, this operation causes you no problems and has no political repercussions. I get something no one will miss, and the people I¡¯m taking it from don¡¯t even know it¡¯s gone missing.¡±

    Ravantha sat at her desk¨Cmoving in such a way that her eyes never left Mirian¨Cand opened up a thick ledger. ¡°How long do you need this crew?¡±

    ¡°The driver and laborer? A few hours. The arcanist? A whole day.¡± Mirian actually needed the arcanist longer this cycle and didn¡¯t need the other two yet, but she wanted to get a decent idea of the price and what the negotiation process would be like.

    ¡°A thousand doubloons,¡± Ravantha said.

    Mirian sighed. ¡°I was hoping we could settle quickly at a reasonable price.¡±

    Ravantha shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re free to find someone else to provide you services.¡±

    Mirian realized what she¡¯d really just been told was, ¡®no.¡¯ The price was nowhere near what Nurea had said it would be. ¡°Very well,¡± Mirian said. There was always next cycle. She wasn¡¯t in any hurry, anyways. Her mastery of soul magic would need to progress significantly before she could disable the celestial runes.

    She spent the rest of the cycle doing just that, and making several refinements to her designs. South of Palendurio, merchants in the market square heard a loud crash, and then a fire broke out above the gearmaster¡¯s shop. Two more strange fires broke out in Palendurio, and another in Cairnmouth on First Cairn hill. Strange debris was found at one of the fires, but the fire had damaged it too badly to tell much more.

    ***

    Mirian entered Ravantha¡¯s shop, this time, using a minor disguise to appear older and used the three words she needed in the code phrase. This time, when the shopkeeper looked her over, he didn¡¯t see a reason to refuse.

    ¡°Upstairs. Leave your spellbook and any other weapons you have in the drawer.¡±

    This time, Mirian noticed there were a set of glyph switches underneath the counter as she came around. Ah. So he can send silent messages to Ravantha. By pissing him off last cycle, she¡¯d accidentally sabotaged any chance she had at getting the Syndicate woman to cooperate with her.

    ¡°Nurea doesn¡¯t send other people to do her business,¡± Ravantha said as she had before.

    This time, after her explanation, Mirian asked only to hire the arcanist, and kept the details more vague. ¡°If they¡¯re good at breaking or suppressing wards, that¡¯s best,¡± she said.

    ¡°I can arrange that. The rate is ten gold doubloons a day. That provides for materials¡ªwithin reason.¡± She hesitated, then said, ¡°What you really want for ward suppression is one of the anti-magic devices in the Labyrinth.¡±

    Mirian raised an eyebrow. ¡°And you¡­ have one? For sale, perhaps?¡±

    ¡°Sadly, no. You¡¯d have to go to the Labyrinth to get one. But I am interested in buying.¡±

    She cocked her head. ¡°You know the location of one?¡±

    ¡°I do. You¡¯re interested?¡±

    ¡°Very.¡±

    ¡°Our ward specialist, the one you¡¯re interested in, has come up with a device. Preliminary tests indicate it will be able to do what you want¡ªat a greatly reduced risk and price for both of us. You are familiar with the Labyrinth¡¯s¡­ interesting properties?¡±

    Mirian was¡ªsort of.

    After Ravantha¡¯s explanation, she pretended she was going to accept the job and travel north to meet her contact, but instead buried herself in research on the Labyrinth, using the cult¡¯s contacts to check out volumes from the various libraries in Cairnmouth, or simply getting them to just purchase the books. She was glad the cult was easy to convince of her contact with the Ominian, because they became very free with their money after that.

    The Labyrinth had certain rooms that were notorious. Some might simply prevent the ability of a person to cast arcane spells¡ªlike a suppression ward, but far more potent¡ªwhile others could strip away energy from a person¡¯s aura. Adventurous individuals (or suicidal ones) had gone into these rooms on purpose to try and find and take back the devices doing this. However, no one had actually been able to recreate the full effect of the rooms, though it had led to advancements in ward sequence technology.

    Mirian didn¡¯t think the Syndicate arcanist¡¯s device would be useful for saving Arenthia, but it would be incredibly useful. The antimagic shockwave from the Divine Monument exploding had taken down the two Akanan airships. What if she could deploy something like that locally? Or better yet, figure out the glyph sequences and turn the ability to strip away an aura into a spell? What were the limits of such fields, anyways?

    ¡°You¡¯re reading a lot,¡± Lecne commented one evening, nodding at the pile of books scattered over Mirian¡¯s desk.

    ¡°I¡¯ve recently become very interested in the Labyrinth. We might be able to use it.¡±

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°To save Arenthia?¡±

    ¡°No. To save the world. What if the entropic field generators¡ªthe one that can strip away mana¡ªcould also suppress the volatility of the leylines?¡±

    ¡°Oh Gods, leyline topography,¡± Lecne said. ¡°Rather would die than try to have to learn it. So, funny thing. You know who was really interested in the leylines?¡±

    Mirian turned. ¡°A certain high priestess? Perhaps of an unconventional denomination?¡±

    Lecne winked at her.

    ¡°I¡¯m progressing nicely on that. A few more cycles, I think,¡± she said.

    With the Cult of Zomalator¡¯s coin, Mirian, wearing a major illusion this time, visited Ravantha again to hire her arcanist for a few days.

    After some haggling and swearing several oaths of secrecy, Mirian met him in the shop to talk business.

    ¡°Numo,¡± he said, holding out his hand.

    Mirian shook it. ¡°Good to meet you. So here¡¯s what I need: measurements of individual ward strength around the statue of Shiamagoth, with the goal to pin down both the central location of the primary glyph sequences and their effective radii. I will also pay to have these points and circles put on a nice map of the area.¡±

    Numo looked at her. ¡°Usually, people make small talk first.¡±

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t like small talk.¡±

    The man smiled. ¡°Neither do I. You have a deadline?¡±

    ¡°2nd of Duala,¡± she said so that she had a bit of time to study the documents. ¡°We can meet back here for the exchange.¡±

    ¡°A pleasure,¡± Numo said, and they shook hands again and departed.

    ***

    Two more cycles saw Mirian¡¯s ¡®seed of chaos¡¯ design grow significantly in efficiency. She reduced the number of glyph sequences necessary, and figured out how to make more of the device out of paper, allowing them to travel farther and take far fewer materials to craft. Numo¡¯s measurements of the wards in Shiamagoth¡¯s plaza were excellent, and soon enough she¡¯d found a spot off to the side where only four wards¡ªthree arcane, one celestial¡ªoverlapped.

    The easiest way to disable the wards would be to physically damage them, but then that leave obvious evidence of tampering. Plus, Numo had discovered a large divination ward that detected problems with any other wards. This ward appeared to be in one of the towers in the Temple of the Four, which was technically forbidden, but she didn¡¯t think she could convince the ecclesiastic denizens that their security measures should be turned off.

    The wards seemed to be either in the masonry of the wall or underneath flagstones. They were all easily accessible, in case the glyphs needed to be repaired, but it would be obvious to any bystanders. She continued to consider how she could disable them without suspicion.

    By then, she had mapped her soul, according to Lecne, ¡°adequately.¡± She started with her first adjustments.

    ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why I can¡¯t just grow or shrink an inch. It¡¯s just one change, right? Or why are eyes so easy to change and facial features so hard?¡±

    Lecne sighed. ¡°I¡¯m not a theoretician, and I¡¯m certainly not an animologist. I just know how it works, not why.¡±

    Mirian started with the easiest changes. All of what she would do was reversible; the soul had a ¡®natural¡¯ shape to it that it sought to revert to without the external bindings she was about to lay down on her soul. First, she changed her eyes to blue, which required modifying eight ¡®points¡¯ in her soul. She¡¯d miss their natural stone gray color that her father had always admired. She¡¯d always wondered who in her family last had gray eyes; neither her parents nor grandparents had them, just varying shades of brown. Next, she changed her hair, which the manual described as ¡®easy to do poorly, and difficult to do well.¡¯ For a basic change from black to blonde, she needed to change eight different currents. There were more advanced changes that the manual detailed involving the modification of dozens more points, but Mirian didn¡¯t need to win a beauty contest, just make herself unrecognizable.

    Even a subtle change to her facial structure¡ªthis had required the majority of the time she¡¯d spent studying the magic¡ªtook thirty bindings to change. In her mind, she visualized it as black strings that she was laying out to change a current. She carefully applied them, one by one. It had taken killing twelve cockroaches and a rat.

    It took an hour for the changes to move from the currents of her soul to her body. Mirian watched with fascination as the person in the mirror became unrecognizable as her. She felt a vague feeling of unease looking at her new reflection.

    ¡°Well done,¡± Lecne beamed. ¡°You¡¯ll probably want to start going by another name, even with us. Hells, next cycle, I won¡¯t even know the difference.¡±

    Mirian thought. ¡®Vera¡¯ was compromised. Another name popped into her head. ¡°Niluri,¡± she said. ¡°I think my dad used to call me that when I was little.¡± Then she scratched her head and wondered if that was true. Had he? Then she saw the person in the mirror mimicking her motion and jerked her hand away in surprise. ¡°This is going to take some getting used to.¡±

    Maruce, who had only been half paying attention as he was folding laundry, said, ¡°That¡¯s a Persaman name, you know. Means¡ª¡±

    ¡°Lotus,¡± Mirian said. ¡°My mom¡¯s favorite flower. Well, she liked the ebonbloom, which is the myrvite version of the lotus.¡±

    That made Maruce burst out laughing. ¡°¡¯Course she does! Find one of those and you¡¯re set for life. I doubt anyone¡¯s seen one in five generations, though if you do go to Persama and someone tells you they found one, you should just shoot them because they¡¯re planning to rob you.¡±

    Mirian had been about to say, ¡®well my dad got one for my mom as a wedding present,¡¯ but then she closed her mouth. Something about that memory seemed wrong. And¡ªthat hadn¡¯t happened at all, had it? Her dad had given her mom the traditional electrum band set with three garnets. She could still picture that ring on her mom¡¯s finger if she closed her eyes.

    ¡°Anyways, I like the name, and I¡¯ll actually remember it.¡±

    Lecne said, ¡°Niluri it is.¡±

    Mirian wondered how long the changes would take to go into effect the next cycle. Would it be gradual, as her body adjusted, or would Lily be in for a rude surprise?

    ¡°Great,¡± she said, handing back the focus to Lecne. ¡°Next on the agenda: what banks in Cairnmouth wouldn¡¯t ask too many questions about getting some Florinian ingots?¡±

    Lecne made a face. ¡°You have access to Florinian ingots, and you have us chaining loans around town?¡±

    ¡°Not quite. I have easy access to three counterfeit Florinian ingots.¡±

    The priest raised an eyebrow. ¡°That actually seems harder to do than just getting a genuine one. The Florins only have five sealmakers and they are closely guarded.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°Small bit of trivia, not that I ever tried to, you know. When I was younger. Well. Damn. You know, I think I know just the bank¡­.¡±

    ***

    Thankfully, the physical changes came on gradually at the beginning of a cycle, which Mirian was grateful for. She felt bad for Lily, and missed her friend.

    Breaking into Mayor Wolden¡¯s home was easy. Mirian had long since learned what wards he used and how to get into his secret room. The tricky part was that the counterfeit Florinian ingots were about nine pounds each and quite bulky. She had to lug them out without magic so as not to trigger one of the detection wards that was particularly annoying to disable. That got her wondering about if soul magic could be used to increase physical strength, because by the end of it, she could already feel she was going to be sore.

    After she was clear of his manor, she put them at the bottom of a straw basket with fruit on the top, then used lift object to counteract their weight. This meant she had to carry the basket in a rather unnatural way, and it was a relief when she could finally put everything down on the floor of the private car she¡¯d rented.

    When she walked into the bank Lecne had indicated, she followed the script he¡¯d helped come up with. ¡°My client would like to establish a private account,¡± she told the woman at the counter. ¡°I will be blunt. She has need to sequester a great deal of wealth, and would prefer if any inquiries about it were met with polite but firm denials of its existence. Barring legitimate government inquiries, of course.¡±

    The woman smiled. ¡°We specialize in secure accounts. We¡¯ll need a letter of introduction from a credible backer, the initial deposit, and a few details.¡±

    Mirian produced a letter signed by none other than Alexus Sacristar, would be very difficult to talk to given he was in Akana Praediar. The signet stamp was a legitimate one she¡¯d gotten off of Nicolus, much to Nurea¡¯s dismay. She had a second letter from the Yanez family, but was glad it wasn¡¯t necessary, as she hadn¡¯t had time in Torrviol to do anything but break into his apartment to stamp the seal.

    After filling out a few forms, Mirian revealed the ingots, and the woman¡¯s eyes got wide. ¡°That is¡­ a substantial deposit,¡± she said. ¡°Ah, my associate and I will need to check the validity¡­¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I would walk away from this establishment immediately if you didn¡¯t.¡±

    The Florinian seals were legitimate, so the magical device they used to check for that confirmed their authenticity. As for the check on the scales, Mirian kept her hands neatly folded on the counter so it was obvious she wasn¡¯t casting any spells. In truth, she¡¯d sewn her arcane catalyst into her belt like Jei recommended and had partially melted two of the glyphs on the wards in the room using raw magic, effectively disabling them. When they weighed the ingots on the scales, she merely had to add a few pounds of force so that the scale read a neat ¡®fifteen pounds,¡¯ and the newly modified wards failed to detect any magical interference. This feat required an absurd amount of precision, and Mirian said a silent thanks to Respected Jei for her practice regimen.

    ¡°They are genuine,¡± muttered the banker¡¯s associate.

    The woman seemed surprised by this, but didn¡¯t voice it. ¡°There¡¯s a small matter of¡­ you are aware of how banks make profits, yes?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to become over-leveraged. My client understands. She will guarantee one half of the deposit will stay in your bank for five years, assuming, of course, a small percentage of the profits you make on loans made using her deposit as assets be added to her account. I have the authority to sign an agreement to this effect.¡±

    Mirian waited around while the banker drew up the agreement. It was interesting¡ªif the time loop and apocalypse had both suddenly vanished, she¡¯d be able to live out the rest of her life in luxury that she¡¯d never dreamed of. And yet, with a full 1500 doubloons at her disposal, she felt nothing. Things had stopped mattering to her almost entirely. After all, it all came back, or all went away. It was all just a means to an end.

    After nearly two hours of exchanges¡ªand Mirian supervising as the ingots were safely locked away in the vault¡ªthe paperwork was finalized. ¡°My client would like to start with a 74 doubloon withdrawal.¡± Mirian gave an exaggerated sigh. ¡°Her ¡®walking around¡¯ money.¡±

    The woman and her associate both gave a polite chortle. It was an absurd amount of money for a normal person, but nothing to a woman who was apparently sequestering fortunes away. Mirian assumed they thought her client was trying to deny some relatives access to her money. Either way, they both left happy. Mirian had secured more than enough money for her heist, and the bankers there were probably ecstatic.

    Mirian went through her mental checklist. By now, she knew the location of the wards, and had confirmed that Numo could take care of them. She could secure a focus from the cult, and concoct the devices needed. The last thing on her list was to practice hiring the team she needed for the cart, bribing the target crematorium, and practice breaking the celestial ward.

    With her now permanent disguise that required no mana to maintain, Mirian was sure she was hidden from Sulvorath. All the same, she wouldn¡¯t make the mistake of complacency again. She went off to trial the last components of her plan.

    The evening of the apocalypse, she and Lecne sat up on the roof. Lecne¡¯s eyes became wet with tears as she said she was ready.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m so glad,¡± he said, choking on his words. ¡°It¡¯s always too soon, when they¡¯re taken. I¡¯ll still miss her. But some part of me won¡¯t.¡± He took a sip of his beer and watched as the aurora in the sky intensified. Panicked shouting filled the streets, and fires had broken out all over town. Some were from magical explosions as most of the glyphs in the city began to fry, but some were just people setting fires. ¡°It¡¯s really happening,¡± he said. Mirian wasn¡¯t sure if he meant the end of the world or the return of his friend.

    She¡¯d gotten used to the shouting and screaming as Cairnmouth erupted in chaos. The columns of smoke, the looting, the desperate attempts of the undermanned guard to restore order even as the Akanan navy threatened Fort Aegrimere¡ªit was a routine now. But it still bothered her.

    ¡°Too much pain,¡± she said. ¡°But one day.¡± She closed her eyes, even as the sky began to brighten, and a second sun blossomed in the southeast of the sky. ¡°One day.¡±

 Chapter 91 - The Uncorpsing of Arenthia

    Three hours after waking up, she chanced to pass Lily as she headed to her next class and her roommate didn¡¯t even turn her head. The disguise had certainly worked. Mirian crafted the replacement part for the train and scribed the fine manipulation spell she¡¯d need to pick Mayor Wolden¡¯s locks, then moved to start dismantling the wards by levitating small quantities of magichemicals that would alter the glyphs she targeted. Most configurations were designed to stop overload ward and dispel ward, but very few could detect a slight change in a single glyph that disabled the sequence. Funnily enough, it had been the train¡¯s engine problem that had given her the idea.

    She departed on the morning train with her three fake ingots. There, she tore the catalyst out of her spellbook so she could hide it, rebound the book, then scribed the spells she¡¯d need: remote whisper, variable illusion, and major disguise. With a bit of extra time, she scribed a few other spells she might use. When she departed the train, she headed to the bank first, and left two hours later with the doubloons she¡¯d need.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to hire a ward specialist and two teamsters for a half-day job,¡± she told Ravantha, as soon as they were past the pleasantries.

    Ravantha examined her. ¡°You seem like you¡¯ve done this before, but Nurea never mentioned you as an asset.¡±

    Oops. She¡¯d grown too used to the terminology and meeting, and accidentally changed the Syndicate woman¡¯s reaction. ¡°A new asset. And hopefully long term ally. I see a bright future for the Sacristar family.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± the Syndicate woman said. ¡°And the job?¡±

    ¡°Stealing a body. It¡¯s slated for incineration anyways, so no one will miss it.¡±

    Ravantha raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°My client is very particular about this one,¡± she said, and then gave her the details of who she needed, where, and what time.

    ¡°Tomorrow? I can arrange it, but... a delay would be better. We don¡¯t like rush jobs.¡±

    ¡°I understand. I wish I could have made it down here sooner, but the job can¡¯t be delayed. My client is willing to pay an additional fee for the inconvenience.¡±

    Ravantha tapped her fingers on the table while keeping her face neutral. She really did have the same mannerisms as Nurea. They must have gotten along splendidly. Likely, Ravantha was weighing the discount she wanted to offer to a new potential contact with the extra fee she wanted to charge for the added danger of the job. Also, she was probably wondering why anyone would want to pay so much for what she assumed was corpse-smuggling. ¡°Fifteen doubloons,¡± she said.

    Mirian placed them on the table, then put out her hand, and they shook on it, then swore the oath of secrecy the Syndicate demanded.

    She went to the market next and purchased materials both for several of her ¡®seeds¡¯ and for the magichemicals she¡¯d be handing Numo later, then a vial of scarlet dye. Then she went to meet Lecne. It was evening by then, so he was back from the market.

    ¡°Take a look at my soul,¡± she told him as they met at the door to the hidden temple.

    ¡°Did you want that¡­ removed?¡± he asked.

    He was looking at the disguise transformation, and had missed his own soul mark. ¡°No, look closer. You¡¯re looking for a soul mark along the fifth sinuous flow.¡±

    Lecne¡¯s eyes widened. Now he¡¯d gotten it. ¡°But that¡¯s impossible,¡± he said.

    ¡°I can explain, but we may wish to go indoors.¡± Lower, she said, ¡°There¡¯s still time to save Arenthia.¡±

    As usual, the priest of Zomalator needed only a short time to understand the implications of the loop. ¡°What do you need?¡± he said with a note of desperation, after Mirian had finished explaining.

    ¡°I need to borrow a celestial focus and I need a scroll of shatter rune.¡±

    Lecne blinked several times. ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±

    Mirian winked. ¡°You¡¯ve already done the rest.¡±

    That night, she crafted a special wand of her own design.

    ***

    The next day, Mirian met Numo in a typical looking house on Second Cairn, one that apparently let the Syndicate borrow it from time to time. He was wearing a deep blue vest with silver embroidery, which was typical of guild arcanists. She also knew that while his credentials were forged, the forgery was impeccable, and the glyph-seal would pass any examination.

    ¡°The teamsters are in place?¡± Mirian asked him.

    ¡°Yes. Very easy to bribe, given what they usually make. I was told you have materials for me?¡±

    She handed over the magichemical concoction. ¡°Two drops of this on the sier glyphs, and two drops of this on the xolm glyph will transmute them just enough for my purposes. Here¡¯s the map. Two are under the flagstones, one is in the wall. Each comes out with just a bit of force.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± he said. ¡°Good. Interesting. You know your alchemistry. Surprised you need me.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be busy with the other part. I¡¯ll mask us both with an illusion until we get to the gardens.¡± She pointed to the map. ¡°We¡¯ll take this route here, which will take us through some dense foliage, then I¡¯ll drop the disguise before we¡¯re in the outer ward radius.¡±

    Numo shrugged. ¡°Sure.¡±

    Mirian liked how he didn¡¯t ask a bunch of annoying questions. She flipped to her major disguise page and cast.

    They made their way up the route, their fine clothes flaking away into motes of light as they passed rhododendrons and Zhighuan maples in the outer gardens. Then, they parted ways. Mirian appreciated how Numo¡¯s stride and facial expression changed as he assumed a new identity. He didn¡¯t look that old, but he¡¯d clearly been a man of subterfuge for a long time.

    He entered the plaza of Shiamagoth, while Mirian stayed in the adjacent garden and embraced the cult¡¯s focus.

    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    She already knew from the previous loops that the Luminate guards would investigate Numo. She also knew he was great at acting the flustered arcanist who liked rules and hated the idea that anyone would accuse him of breaking them.

    In a moment, he¡¯d be saying something like, ¡°I thought¡­ it was the Order that hired me. I thought they¡¯d told you? I know it¡¯s a rush job, and I doubt they had time to fill out the paperwork, but they said it had to be done before noon. Messing with? No, I¡¯m fixing the suppression ward. I¡¯m guild-certified. Here are my credentials. Should I wait? I can wait until you check with your superior. Actually I¡¯d be happy to wait, I¡¯m not in a hurry. You can delay the execution, while you check, right?¡±

    Then the guard would get nervous, because no one wanted the suppression wards down right before the execution, and they certainly didn¡¯t want to have to tell a big crowd to wait a while so he could check with the high priest. To make things easy, he¡¯d give him the go-ahead to do the repairs, thinking the ward would trigger if he did anything wrong, and anyways, there¡¯d be five guards and a priest there if anyone did try anything. Numo would press him, ask him if he was sure, then do it. For a few minutes, he¡¯d pretend the work was far more detailed than simply injecting a single glyph with magichemicals, then plop the flagstone back down and repeat the ¡®fix.¡¯

    Mirian let her mind¡¯s eyes go inward. First, she saw the flow of her soul, then, the soul of one of the birds in the garden. As soon she sensed the suppression and detection wards go down, she telekinetically gripped one of the birds and brought it to her hand. She hated killing the cute little chickadee, but it was necessary. She felt its soul energy course around her hand, then directed it toward the statue of Shiamagoth.

    The runes at its base were old. It was possible that the Order didn¡¯t even remember they were there, but she would take no chances. Unlike the glyphs, there would be no layered divination wards to detect the changes. She formed the energy into patterns like Lecne had shown her, letting it flow through runes engraved on a small scroll he¡¯d helped her prepare, and a moment later she knew two of the runes had burst apart by the subtle change in currents outside her soul. Lecne had questioned how she could do that, but it just felt natural¡ªlike one knew when the wind was blowing over their skin.

    As Numo departed¡ªthanking the guard, and giving a fake address in case the guard needed to contact him for another job¡ªMirian walked through the garden and quietly sat at one of the far benches to observe the execution. Like the spot in the adjacent garden, the bench she¡¯d chosen was just outside the radius of the nearby wards that were still active.

    For this part, Mirian had torn out the three spellbook pages she¡¯d needed and sequestered them on the inside of her clothes, and had the wand she was using up her sleeve. Tactile contact with the glyphs was usually done with the fingers, but it wasn¡¯t strictly necessary, just like the conduit in a wand could be bypassed and the glyphs used out of order. It was just harder, sort of like writing with a pen by gripping it with your mouth. Having the pages in contact with her skin would be sufficient to make sure to avoid the exponential drop-off of efficiency that came from trying to channel into something too far away. Once again Jei¡¯s training had set her up well.

    As Arenthia took the stage, arms held by two of the executioners, Mirian used her elbow to press the remote whisper page up against her torso. ¡°Arenthia,¡± she whispered, so close to her ear that she had to overcome some of her spell resistance. ¡°Lecne sent me. Keep your face neutral. All I need from you is to ignore when you feel something go up your back, and to crumple to the ground as soon as you hear the rifles fire. Then stay limp, and pretend to be dead until you hear from me again. Blink twice if you understand.¡±

    She could see the cultist trying to scan the crowd, then catch herself. She blinked twice.

    Mirian next pressed both the major illusion and lift object pages to her body, then let the thin leather waterskin she had up her other sleeve drop down into her hand. In it was a concoction of starch, syrup, water, and the red dye she¡¯d purchased. Compared to the magichemicals, it had been trivial to make.

    First, she cast variable illusion on it so that the bag looked just like the cobblestones. Then, she slowly maneuvered it with lift object. The crowd was watching the sun glint off the armor of the Luminate guard, or watching the heretic, or watching the executioners line up and load their rifles. They didn¡¯t notice a ripple on the pavement. When it moved to the wooden platform, Mirian altered the illusion to resemble that color and texture. Carefully, she maneuvered it beneath Arenthia¡¯s dark skirts, then moved it up, squeezing the waterskin under her belt until it was just above it, then let go. The belt kept it from slipping back down again. Someone behind Arenthia might notice the bulge of the waterskin as it sagged slightly, but only Shiamagoth was behind her, and He wasn¡¯t saying anything.

    Years ago now, Mirian had created a hybrid wand to fight the spy that attacked Jei in the Underground. She had used conduit dispersal to use the mana bleedoff from a high intensity spell to cast a secondary spell simultaneously, though with lowered efficiency.

    She¡¯d eventually discarded the design since it was far more time-consuming to make than two wands and was a pain to get right. But here, the design would be perfect. People might notice a delay if her fake blood burst out a few moments after the bullets were fired, so the spell had to be simultaneous. The primary spell in her wand was greater magnetic field. The secondary spell was telekinetic burst.

    ¡°¡­and may the Gods bless her soul,¡± the priest ordaining the execution finished.

    Mirian channeled.

    The rifles fired.

    As her greater magnetic field caught the bullets right in front of Arenthia¡¯s skin, the telekinetic burst ripped apart the waterskin full of blood and the part of the dress by it, sending fake blood out in a cone to splatter the stones. The torn fabric and red mess from the dye that covered her back would also superficially resemble the exit wound from bullets fragmenting inside the human body¡ªsomething she¡¯d seen far too many times in the fighting at Torrviol.

    Arenthia fell as instructed, and the guards carried her limp body away. They had no reason to suspect anything had gone wrong, so they wouldn¡¯t be checking her that carefully.

    Mirian left with the crowd, walking casually. In the garden, she replaced her major disguise spell to wear the formal clothes expected of Second Cairn, then circled around the hill towards the crematorium, changing her disguise one more time once she was off the hill.

    If everything had gone to plan, the two teamsters she¡¯d recruited had intercepted the cart scheduled to pick up Arenthia¡¯s corpse and ¡®traded jobs.¡¯ The original team would be moving a cart full of empty boxes, and her Syndicate-trusted criminal laborers would be making sure no one disturbed the body.

    Mirian met them in an alley on the way to the crematorium. ¡°Here,¡± she said, handing them a pouch full of silver. ¡°The crematorium loves bribes, and there¡¯s a bit extra for you two for a job well done. She¡¯s expecting the full twenty drachims and the shipment of wood pellets so she can fake the ashes.¡±

    ¡°Pleasure doing business, lady,¡± one of them said. ¡°Always appreciate a generous soul.¡±

    ¡°Take care,¡± she said.

    Well, there was one thing to be said about the criminal underworld here. If you gave them easy coin, they were extremely polite, and kept discussions short. She could get used to that.

    Mirian levitated the body off the cart, then waited for them to depart. Then she took the shroud off and cast another major disguise spell, changing Arenthia¡¯s hair, face, and clothes, which hid the hole in the back of her bodice and all the fake blood that was back there. ¡°You can get up now, Arenthia,¡± she said. ¡°Lecne is waiting for us at the temple.¡±

    Arenthia¡ªnow with light brown hair and looking ten years younger¡ªstood, shaking. ¡°Who are you?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Niluri. I made a promise to the cult to save your life.¡± Mirian incinerated the yellow shroud with a fire spell, using a gather smoke spell to keep the smoke bundled up so it wouldn¡¯t attract attention.

    Arenthia looked around. A few yards away, people were walking down the street, but they were alone in the alley. ¡°Is¡­ are they going to be looking for me?¡±

    ¡°If I did it right? Nope. And if I did it wrong? I¡¯ll just try again in about a month.¡± Seeing the other woman¡¯s confusion, she said, ¡°Let¡¯s talk more in the temple. There¡¯s a lot to say, and a lot of people who will be very happy to see you.¡±

 Chapter 92 - Distant Memories

    As soon as the doors to the temple closed and Mirian dropped the illusion spell on Arenthia, the entire room of waiting priests burst into cheers, and the high priestess could hardly move as every man and woman of the cult rushed to hug her and welcome her home. As they did, a pang of sorrow flashed through Mirian. Everyone gathered had only known her a day; to them, she was a miracle, but a stranger. The deep connections these priests of a heretical God felt for each other¡ªwould she ever be able to form that with someone? Her sorrow threatened to turn into anger.

    ¡°We thought we¡¯d lost you forever,¡± Lecne said, tears welling in his eyes as he smiled.

    The moment passed. Even if they didn¡¯t know her, she knew them, and the joy they felt was contagious. Mirian found herself smiling with them.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Arenthia said, as the crowd gathered gave her space. ¡°We agreed that the sanctity of the order outweighed the risk of saving one. If it had gone wrong¡ªwe¡¯d have lost everyone. I told you not to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Wasn¡¯t their plan. It was mine,¡± Mirian said. ¡°And I had as many tries as I needed.¡±

    And Lecne said, grimly, ¡°The age of Prophets has come again.¡±

    That brought silence to the room, and Arenthia¡¯s gaze settled on Mirian. ¡°You?¡±

    Mirian handed her the amulet focus she¡¯d been wearing. ¡°Look for the hole,¡± she said.

    After Arenthia had seen it, Mirian gave the quick summary version of her situation. Like with the other cultists, it didn¡¯t take much explaining to get her to believe. ¡°And you¡¯ve told the Luminate Order before?¡± Arenthia asked at the end of the explanation.

    ¡°I have,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Damn those fools. How blind they have become to the very scripture they repeat¡­¡± She trailed off. ¡°Well, back to work everyone! This temple isn¡¯t going to run itself!¡± she told the gathering. Quieter, she said, ¡°And my blessings to you all.¡±

    Lecne stayed, but the other priests departed. High Priestess Arenthia led them down to the ritual room, muttering something about, ¡°It¡¯s where I do my best thinking.¡± Unlike Lecne, whose eyes often wandered to the great painting of the unnamed corpse-God, Arenthia liked to pace around the sarcophagus in the center of the room. Often, her finger would trace some part of the relief, or rest on the stone lip.

    After some of this pacing, she said, ¡°There was a detail you mentioned. How this Specter person was resistant to arcane magic. It¡¯s not a glyph sequence. It¡¯s a material.¡±

    ¡°You know about this?¡± Lecne said, surprised.

    ¡°That¡¯s because you don¡¯t listen half the time!¡± she snapped. Then, ¡°Sorry, still a bit high strung. I thought for sure I¡¯d be meeting Zomalator an hour ago. Yes, material. One of the things the Luminates started working with the Arcane Praetorians on. Their first heretical break with a long tradition of non-interference. Damn Archbishop Yohan! Sorry, bit of a tangent. My mother always said I had the mind of an old lady, and now here I am as an old lady and it¡¯s only gotten worse. In the lead-up to the Unification War, all the kingdoms, republics, principalities and other states all had a problem with arcanists. This is pre-spellward barriers, if you¡¯ve forgotten your history, so moving about from city to city was incredibly dangerous. The guilds had gone exclusive, and were leaving too many competent arcanists out of their ranks, so rogue arcanists started popping up everywhere. Am I rambling?¡±

    ¡°You are rambling again,¡± Lecne said.

    ¡°Oh dear. Long story short, the Luminates and the Unifiers under King Ghautleimane established the Arcane Praetorians. Called something else back then, don¡¯t worry about it. Anyways, if you¡¯re going to try to bring magi under heel, you don¡¯t want the fights to be equal, so the Luminates helped develop a spell resistant material that wasn¡¯t a focus.¡±

    Mirian could finally follow this last bit. ¡°A spell-resistant material. One that hinders attacks, but not your own aura.¡±

    ¡°Precisely. And they kept it a secret, a very close secret, and continue to keep it a close secret, one enforced by the Deeps, and they don¡¯t much care if it¡¯s a citizen or foreigner who knows. Plenty of people figure it out, but then they also figure out how to stay quiet.¡±

    ¡°And how do you know?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°Because I was part of them,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve picked up on that, I assume? How everyone here has a closet that¡¯s packed with skeletons?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d gotten the idea.¡±

    ¡°Have you told her?¡±

    Lecne looked at Arenthia. ¡°I have no idea. Remember what she said about the cycles?¡±

    ¡°You should probably just tell me now,¡± Mirian said. ¡°That was a bit too cryptic for me to know either.¡±

    ¡°Very well. Zomalator fought against the Ominian in the Gods¡¯ War.¡±

    That took Mirian aback, and her heart began to hammer. Had she made a mistake, dealing with these cultists?

    ¡°Zomalator has more blood on His divine hands than any of us. But He changed. He became a turncoat. A traitor to his own cause. And when it was most important, He did stand by the Ominian. All of us here, we embody that. Redemption is what we offer. But¡ª!¡± she snapped, suddenly whirling to face Mirian. ¡°Redemption is something one must walk to, willingly. You can only offer your hand. If they spit in it, withdraw it. Not everyone wants to wash the blood off their hands, and only the fool tries to clean their hands for them.¡±

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    There was a gravity to her words, and Mirian felt she¡¯d learned something important not just about Arenthia, but about the whole cult. It explained, for example, why Maruce didn¡¯t much like talking about his past, and most of them liked to only jokingly allude to it. She hated to break the silence that lingered after the high priestess¡¯s speech, but she was growing impatient.

    ¡°And the special material?¡±

    Arenthia sighed. ¡°Right. I do get side-tracked. You are familiar with alloys?¡±

    ¡°Intimately.¡±

    ¡°Right, artificer focus, you said. Well, there¡¯s a way to impregnate certain metals with soul-energy, in such a way that it acts as a soul-resonator. Takes soul magic, and it takes some other things. The easiest one is bronze. Turns into something they call ¡®orichalcum.¡¯ Spell resistant by itself. Acclimate it to a soul, and it amplifies the currents of it. Lecne taught you about topological resonance of soul currents? Lecne?¡±

    Lecne sighed.

    ¡°Right, you don¡¯t know. Niluri?¡±

    ¡°Sort of,¡± Mirian said, proud that she hardly hesitated when called her new name. She knew all about mana-enriched materials from alchemistry, so it made sense there was a celestial equivalent. ¡°Do you know how to make this orichalcum?¡±

    ¡°Hah! No. Even fewer people know the recipe. I was only authorized to know what it was. I know where it¡¯s made, though. Palendurio, in a secret part of the Grand Sanctum.¡±

    Great, Mirian thought. Of course it would be in the least convenient place to infiltrate possible. Still, it was useful information to know. But even if she did learn the secret alloys, it was yet another thing she¡¯d have to make, remake, and remake again every time she wanted it. Even with the memory tricks she was using, she¡¯d certainly forgotten more glyph sequences for spells than most arcanists knew.

    Idly, she wondered if the other time traveler was trying to manipulate Archmage Luspire to get the kind of training she¡¯d gotten, and if so, how long it would take. Whatever else happened, she needed to make sure she stayed above whatever his competence with magic was. She needed to start purchasing mana elixirs again.

    ¡°That¡¯s interesting,¡± Arenthia said, breaking the silence that had settled over the room. ¡°You¡¯ve been cursed.¡±

    ¡°The soul modification? No, I did that with Lecne to change my appearance. To hide from that Sulvorath guy¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not that! I mean your mind.¡±

    That made Mirian¡¯s blood run cold. ¡°My what?¡± she heard herself saying, as if she had suddenly become distant from herself. When had that happened? She could account for every loop; she¡¯d been keeping track. She had no memory of¡ªbut of course, she wouldn¡¯t. Was she too late? Had she already been outmaneuvered?

    Arenthia continued, hand to her focus, moving around Mirian like she was a piece of artwork to be studied. ¡°It¡¯s very subtle. And your soul has partially grown over it, so it must have happened when you were young. Hmm. I didn¡¯t think they actually¡­ it was hypothetical. They said they never tried it after the program was canceled.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s fear made her next words come out more harshly than she intended. ¡°What are you babbling about? Tell me!¡±

    ¡°Project Flayer,¡± Arenthia said. ¡°It was something the Department of Public Security¡­ discussed. Some wizards in one of the smaller academies made some advancements in mind magic. The last, untouched frontier. Not very large advances, mind you, but they released a paper showing an effect. I thought the Deeps would dismiss it and shut it down, since the research was technically illegal. But the higher ups were giddy with excitement, truth be told, and talked about how it would change the world. Then it made too many test subjects, hmm, insane. Very insane. I don¡¯t know what the details were, since it wasn¡¯t my unit. Someone screwed up, and somehow the Senate started to look into it, and the program was ended. Most of the records destroyed.¡± She looked at Mirian, peering into her eyes in a way she found disturbing. ¡°But maybe they didn¡¯t. Maybe it just went underground. Wouldn¡¯t be the first time the Deeps hid an operation from the King and Senate.¡± Arenthia then made a retching noise and started pacing around the sarcophagus again. ¡°Couldn¡¯t stand those monsters. Couldn¡¯t stand myself. Can¡¯t wash your hands of blood if you keep dipping them in the blood vat. Had to get out.¡±

    ¡°Can you remove it?¡± Mirian said, voice quiet now.

    Arenthia paused her circuit. ¡°No. Your mind seems to be healthy. It¡¯s a small curse, and embedded in your soul deeply. If it is Project Flayer, it¡¯s designed to suppress memories, not cognitive capabilities. Removing it would be dangerous. I saw some of the¡­ results. Can¡¯t risk a Prophet becoming one of those. You hear me? Don¡¯t mess with it. Shouldn¡¯t have mentioned it.¡±

    For once, it was Mirian who said, ¡°I need¡­ some time.¡±

    She left the building and went to wander Cairnmouth, using minor disguise to periodically change her appearance, more as an afterthought to habit than because she needed to. Was Arenthia right? Did it happen when she was younger? Or had it been more recent? As far as she knew, she could account for every loop. Despite what the high priestess had told her, she badly wanted to shatter the curse and remember what was being hidden from her.

    Childhood. She didn¡¯t remember much from it, but that was normal, wasn¡¯t it? Lily barely remembered elementary school, and had forgotten at least half the anecdotes that her older sister told about when they were younger.

    Another thought disturbed her, though: Why me?

    Something had happened, she remembered. There¡¯d been that priest¡­ and the dream. And he¡¯d helped¡­ except the harder she reached for those memories, the more they turned to mist. She wanted to scream in frustration. She didn¡¯t even know what had been taken from her.

    She wandered past Second Cairn, through the Miller¡¯s District and over the bridges of the Cairn River, then through the factory district until she could see Fort Aegrimere, that behemoth fortress that sprawled across Third Cairn and touched the coast.

    I¡¯m working on my soul magic. Maybe I¡¯ll get good enough to remove it myself. Until then, I can¡¯t let it bother me, she told herself. But it did bother her, like her tongue probing a sore in her mouth. Even when she started to do breathing exercises, she remembered that she¡¯d learned them as a child to help with her temper. Very insane, Arenthia had said.

    Why? Mirian asked the cosmos.

    The fat clouds hanging in the sky never did answer.

    She started wandering back, her resolve hardening as she did. Whatever had happened, it wouldn¡¯t happen again. She¡¯d master the arcane arts until even Luspire couldn¡¯t challenge her. She¡¯d master soul magic until Specter couldn¡¯t touch her. She¡¯d learn every secret and advantage that she could. This apocalypse, these fellow travelers¡ªit was all bullshit, and completely unfair, but by the time she got back, her mood was halfway between fury and focus. ¡°Teach me everything you know,¡± she told Arenthia.

    ¡°Everything?¡± Arenthia said, cracking a smile.

    ¡°We¡¯ll start with the soul magic,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Then let¡¯s begin,¡± the old high priestess said.

 Chapter 93 - Next Steps

    As the latest cycle progressed, Mirian released more seeds of chaos and continued to monitor the newspapers, while Lecne used his contacts in the black markets to keep an ear out. Sulvorath had stopped getting his contacts to deploy ¡®wanted¡¯ posters and was keeping his search more subtle, but he was clearly still searching. Lecne was able to learn that a description that matched her normal appearance was being circulated among certain criminal elements, along with a promise for a reward. Another priest found her name and description in the office of the Arcane Praetorians, with the charges of ¡®practicing unlicensed magic¡¯ and ¡®assault of a teacher.¡¯ The first charge was technically true, but Mirian wondered who on the Academy staff had been cajoled into committing perjury by filing false charges. Probably Professor Eld, she thought. Never much liked him.

    Priestess Arenthia was both a poor and good teacher, and for the same reason. Her knowledge of soul magic and its history was comprehensive, and so she would go on and on about anything and everything. She also confirmed something else Mirian had realized: that the Department of Public Security was unofficially authorized to evade the necromancy ban.

    ¡°It creates institutional power,¡± Arenthia explained one evening. ¡°Because the organization has access to otherwise irresistible magic, and a deal with the Luminates to have anyone they mark turned over, they act as a check to the Arcane Praetorians and army, while the Praetorians act as a check to the various arcanist guilds and academies.¡±

    ¡°And who acts as a check on the Deeps?¡± Mirian asked.

    Arenthia just smiled, teeth showing.

    Purely by accident, Mirian was furthering her knowledge of the conspiracy that stretched from Vadriach to Palendurio. The problem was, the Deeps was the one of two organizations she had no chance of infiltrating. Both they and the Luminate Order would be on the lookout for soul magic, and with Sulvorath still searching for her, she could neither use her transformed identity or her real identity.

    But it also seemed that the Deeps was clearly involved in whatever was happening. Not that she had anything like the kind of evidence she needed to convince people or stop it. Arenthia also talked freely of how the Deeps would work with the Akanan Republic Intelligence Division.

    ¡°But why would either of them want to provoke war between the two countries, then? I still don¡¯t understand that part.¡±

    ¡°People don¡¯t think like countries,¡± Arenthia told her. ¡°They think like people. Ask yourself who gains from such a war, and what they would gain.¡±

    Mirian wrinkled her nose. ¡°Nicolus said it had to do with the control of key resources. Crystals. Fossilized myrvite. And now, the Divine Monuments, assuming there¡¯s more than one.¡±

    ¡°That reminds me, I¡¯ve been thinking,¡± the priestess said, rising from her seat so she could pace about again. ¡°You¡¯ve complained about nothing following you through the cycles. And that¡¯s true¡ªsort of. Nothing human made could do it. But the Elder Gods left us their legacy. I¡¯ve never actually told someone that going into the Labyrinth was a good idea¡ªbut for you, it actually might be. The Deeps were obsessed with some of the things they found down there, but they could never replicate them, and they certainly couldn¡¯t reliably get teams to come back alive.¡±

    This was the second time someone had mentioned the Labyrinth. It was already something she planned to investigate, but at a lower priority. But perhaps it shouldn¡¯t be. ¡°I know about the myrvites down there, and special materials¡­ but what else is down there?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just in the upper layers,¡± Arenthia said, waving a dismissive hand. ¡°The ones the Guild of Expeditions can reach with relative safety. You start talking even third level down and people start salivating at the money they think they¡¯ll make from it. There¡¯s antimagic fields. Golems that can reassemble themselves. Wards and spellwork more complex than anything we have invented. Glyphs scribed so miniscule some wizards still think it¡¯s technically impossible. And the holy artifacts¡ªthe things that the field of artifice was named after. I¡¯m fairly certain it¡¯s where the first orichalcum came from, and deeper still, there¡¯s beasts of legend that produce untested magichemicals, or have catalysts far more potent than anything on the surface. People think the Gods share their grace with us, but the creatures down there burn with Their light.¡± Arenthia cackled at that, a sound Mirian had never expected to hear from anyone not playing the villain in a poor drama, never mind from a respected priestess, then said, ¡°The problem is, it¡¯s certain death. You heard of the Expedition of Archmagi?¡±

    ¡°They all died, didn¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Oh yes. Trying to breach the fourth level. Three archmagi. Ten support arcanists. Twenty of the army¡¯s best soldiers. No survivors. The Deeps knew it was a problem of intelligence. Can¡¯t prepare for something you don¡¯t know about, see? Reconfiguring rooms, undetectable traps, and divination suppressors everywhere. Met a unit head that was obsessed with it. Never did get anyone back from that fourth level, though. Gone. Vanished.¡± She snapped her fingers.

    Mirian thought back to her Arcane History class. At least one of the lessons had piqued her interest. ¡°Wasn¡¯t there some guy who made it back from the fifth level?¡±

    Arenthia cackled again. ¡°Yes, and who was he?¡±

    Mirian closed her eyes. Right. Yeah. ¡°The Fourth Prophet.¡±

    ¡°And what did he find?¡±

    ¡°Instructions from the Gods, written on holy pages from the deep vaults.¡±

    ¡°The best translation I can come up with is, ¡®And thou shalt see the will of the Gods, for the pages of this manuscript are bound to their souls and none but they can change what is written.¡¯ Then, in the Ninth Verse, he¡¯s quoted as saying to his lieutenants, ¡®My blade cannot be taken from me, for it is the same stuff as my soul.¡¯ I¡¯d always read it as a metaphor.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s mouth grew dry. ¡°Oh shit. You think there¡¯s stuff down there made of soulstuff? And if there is¡ªthat¡¯s the thing that goes back. If it¡¯s incorporable¡­.¡±

    ¡°I reread the holy scriptures, then read them again in the original archaic Friian and another in Old Adamic. It¡¯d be easy to miss, and I¡¯m sure I could have a right proper scholarly argument with Lecne about it because the translation plays havoc with the terminology, but¡ªyes.¡±

    For a time they were quiet, and even priestess Arenthia was still for once. Then the silence was broken by the sound of glass shattering in the kitchen, and then they could both hear Pelnu swearing in two different languages for what had to be a solid three minutes.

    ¡°I can probably fix it,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Oh, so can he,¡± said Arenthia. ¡°Sometimes you just need to get it all out. So what are you thinking about now?¡±

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Mirian let her gaze wander to the painting of the corpse-God. ¡°Does the Luminate Order still have those holy pages? Or the sword?¡±

    ¡°LECNE!¡± Arenthia shouted, making Mirian start.

    Lecne, who judging by his lethargic pace making it down into the chamber was used to this sort of call, came down. ¡°Should have let them execute you,¡± he muttered as he joined them, though he still smiled when he saw her.

    ¡°Too charming to die,¡± Arenthia said. ¡°Do the Luminates still have the Holy Pages and Sword of the Fourth Prophet still stashed away in their vaults?¡±

    Lecne tapped his chin. ¡°Dunno. Never made it that far in the circles of secrecy. They claim to have them all stashed away in the Grand Sanctum, but there used to be rumor back when I was an acolyte that some of them are fakes and the Church of the Ominian ran off with some of the holy artifacts during the split. If they did, you can bet the Order is still steamed about it.¡±

    Both Arenthia and Mirian lapsed back into thought, so Lecne followed up with, ¡°We done here? I need to pick up some more incense from the market, and then I need to help Palnu with his soup. Cairnmouth is still a hungry city.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll help with the soup,¡± Arenthia said.

    ¡°Yes, the people have been clambering for ¡®more salt,¡¯¡± Lecne said, rolling his eyes.

    As they left, bickering happily, Mirian fell back into contemplation.

    That night, she dreamed of a nicely dressed corpse walking around her house, only it seemed normal. Then she found herself wandering a desert, looking at the Southern Range, but from the south. Only, she¡¯d never been to Persama, so even though the dreams seemed more grounded in reality than what she usually experienced, she assumed the Ominian was trying to communicate to her again.

    She woke and stared at the ceiling, listening to the breathing of the priests as they slept, a bit tired of having to share a room. The dreams were important, Mirian knew, but she couldn¡¯t understand what they were trying to say. Again and again, she¡¯d seen the Cataclysm and that wall of starfire approaching the Ominian. Again and again, she¡¯d seen the Mausoleum, empty except for that colossal statue. She¡¯d wandered the lands with the Ominian at her side. She¡¯d floated through the Labyrinth, climbed the great tree that had half its branches burning, and she¡¯d watched the sky rain down with anchors that churned up the ocean. Now there was this.

    Did the Ominian need her to go to Persama? Like Akana Praediar, it was barred to her. Some member of the Dawn¡¯s Peace there would have an iron grip on the region, just like Sulvorath had made Akana Praediar impassible for her. And what was there for her? Moonfall would be somewhere out in the desert, but she¡¯d checked the maps, and there was nothing out there.

    No, she needed to better understand the works of the Elder Gods, and that meant the Labyrinth. Too many signs pointed towards it.

    She started her research the next morning.

    ***

    She spent five more cycles on soul magic, saving Arenthia each time. She used the ridiculous wealth from her counterfeit ingots to contract the Syndicate for live myrvites. Numo, as it turned out, used his knowledge of wards and forgeries primarily to smuggle myrvites, so she found herself working again with him after the Arenthia operation.

    While he wasn¡¯t able to get her anything as nasty as a bog lion, he could get her various chimeras, young drakes, scarabites, cockatrice, lightning scorpions, and any number of the smaller, less deadly myrvites she requested.

    With the knowledge that nothing that happened would be permanent, the Cult of Zomalator was perfectly happy to have either Arenthia or Lecne join Mirian in a warehouse by the docks that they rented from one of the Syndicate¡¯s criminal contacts. There, Numo would have a myrvite ready for them while Mirian practiced what was unambiguously ¡®necromancy,¡¯ at this point; she¡¯d stopped trying to deny that. Of course, she¡¯d always thought necromancers were weird perverts who liked corpses too much, but maybe that had been all those spy novels she¡¯d read, which come to think of it, had necromancers as the villains quite a bit.

    Near the end of that fifth cycle, Mirian found herself in the warehouse again, with Lecne, Arenthia and Numo.

    ¡°Form the binding,¡± Arenthia instructed her. ¡°Second binding. Good. Third binding. Very nice, how many cycles did you say you¡¯ve been practicing? Sorry, said I¡¯d stop asking that. Fourth binding, make sure you¡¯re tying it tight, so to speak. Wonderful. Numo, kill the drake please,¡±

    Numo did so, with about the same emotional affect as a factory worker adjusting rivets. The crates had a big guillotine attached to them, and it made short work of the young drake.

    And then Mirian felt the power flowing through her as the bound soul was hers to siphon. It felt natural to guide it, in the same way that the instinctual flow of movement in a rapier duel felt natural to her. By now, she was splitting soul energy. The rune she needed to create only took part of the siphoned energy; the rest, she practiced channeling into a repository.

    ¡°Good. Very good!¡± Arenthia said. ¡°Scribed that quick, didn¡¯t you? Remember not to rush things. Let me check your rune. Hmm. No spalling on the edges. Nice psuedocrystal formation. Could use a bit of adjustment on the second mark, but that¡¯s a one degree change, nothing to fret over. Binding to the material¡ªlooks nice. Well cemented. Lecne, what¡¯s the repository looking like?¡±

    ¡°She got it in there,¡± he said, touching his focus, and Mirian beamed.

    ¡°I want to work on fine spirit control next,¡± she said, thinking of the minuscule curse hiding in her soul still. Then she thought back to the theories on maximizing spellpower that Archmage Luspire had taught her. ¡°And I want to know more about soul-aura interactions. When my soul was cursed, my control of my aura was impeded. That implies it can go the other direction¡ªchanging the soul to strengthen an aura. Do you have any texts on that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you¡¯re getting outside our area of expertise, which is healing magic,¡± Lecne said.

    ¡°Would that work?¡± Numo said, for once interjecting himself into the conversation. He usually stayed out of it. ¡°All of a sudden, I¡¯m interested in necromancy.¡±

    Mirian said, ¡°Theoretically. Souls have a natural current, but compare it to a river. Just because the water has shaped the path it naturally takes doesn¡¯t mean that¡¯s the most efficient path. Dredge it, build a canal, and you can get a river running faster, and then it settles into that natural shape. It¡¯s not just a helpful figurative comparison,¡± she said, seeing Numo¡¯s skeptical look. ¡°Luspire did some qualitative aura comparisons in his early research and found that arcanists who perceived their aura as flowing ¡®faster¡¯ had more mana reserves. I know there¡¯s as many papers trashing his research as supporting it, but when you look at his spellpower, I think he was on to something.¡±

    Lecne shrugged. ¡°None of us are arcanists. Except Pelnu, but I don¡¯t think you want his advice.¡±

    Mirian thought. ¡°I wish I could talk to someone like Atroxcidi and ask how he did it. He was a necromancer and arcanist, right? Someone like him would know.¡±

    Arenthia and Numo shared a glance at each other. ¡°No you don¡¯t,¡± Numo said. ¡°That guy¡¯s bad news.¡±

    Arenthia said, ¡°Well, keep in mind the historical sources have a bias towards the victors of the Unification War. But, ah, Numo¡¯s right.¡±

    Mirian blinked. ¡°Wait, Atroxcidi¡¯s still alive? Look, I¡¯m not great at history, but wasn¡¯t that war like, over a hundred years ago?¡±

    ¡°¡®Alive¡¯ might be a strong word for it,¡± Numo said. ¡°I can tell you the Arcane Praetorians are still hunting him, and I don¡¯t know why they¡¯d be doing that if he wasn¡¯t still around though.¡±

    A chill ran through Mirian. So the most powerful necromancer in recorded history was still out there. Despite what she¡¯d just said, it seemed like a terrible idea to seek him out. To the contrary, that was yet another person she needed to stay hidden from. There was no telling what someone like him could do to her soul. ¡°Huh. I had no idea,¡± she said. ¡°It wasn¡¯t a serious thought anyways. I guess I¡¯ll experiment with the aura stuff on my own. Fine spirit control next?¡±

    ¡°Sure. After I¡¯ve had a nap,¡± Arenthia said. ¡°How many days until the world ends, again?¡±

    ¡°Two,¡± Mirian said.

    Numo started. ¡°Wait, what?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it!¡± Mirian called to him as they left.

    That night, after the high priestess¡¯s nap and a few final lessons, Mirian cast a few persistent light spells in one of the empty sanctums and read more about the Labyrinth. She¡¯d decided to go with Ravantha¡¯s suggestion. Frostland¡¯s Gate was one of the few villages north of Torrviol, and she doubted Sulvorath would think to look there.

    There was another reason: she already had a contact there. Lily¡¯s sister worked up in the village.

    It would be good to see Beatrice again.

 Chapter 94 - Taking a Hike

    Going north instead of south would mean that Mirian wouldn¡¯t have a chance to deploy her seeds of chaos design, since it required the train system for dispersal, and there were no trains that got anywhere near Frostland¡¯s Gate.

    Still, she didn¡¯t want to give Sulvorath an easy time, so after two days of scribing spells (she was getting quite sick of that part of the cycle by now) and preparing provisions, she decided to change what kind of letters she was sending via the Royal Couriers. For her first letter, she wrote to Mayor Wolden and told him to be wary of an Akanan named Sulvorath. Then she wrote another letter to the Crown Bureau telling them of a conspiracy in Torrviol involving Adria Gavell and Sulvorath, then another letter to the Arcane Praetorians telling them the real Adria Gavell was dead. Then she wrote to Ravantha and told her that this Sulvorath person was trying to take over the lucrative smuggling operations she had going by taking over the criminal markets in Torrviol. All in all, she composed fifteen letters.

    It was a good start, but it wasn¡¯t enough. She¡¯d learned that the souls of different species had difficult to quantify differences to them, and creating rune sequences that distinguished one kind of soul from another were complex to make. Size was much easier to distinguish, and of course, whether or not the soul had a specific mark was easy to detect. Mirian suspected Specter had made her celestial fire-trap detect soul size and mark presence so that a rat running over the flagstones wouldn¡¯t trigger anything, but that meant any animal with the same ¡®soul size¡¯ of a human could trigger her trap.

    She tested this theory by stealing a pig from one of the farmers and sending it ass-first through the window of the spy¡¯s headquarters. The boarded up window cracked apart from the force of the squealing hog, and shortly thereafter, her hypothesis was confirmed as she saw flames erupt.

    Mirian didn¡¯t stick around to watch. Her traveler¡¯s pack was already on her back, and she left before anyone could find her skulking about on the scene. She knew what kind of patrol routes the guards had, so avoiding them was easy. She hoped the other time traveler appreciated her handiwork, and was deeply regretting his decision to attack her.

    The journey to Frostland¡¯s Gate would be a long one. The village was about as far away as Cairnmouth, but the road there was one of the few in Baracuel that didn¡¯t have a spellward protecting it, and it wound through forests, hills, and a treacherous mountain pass. Merchants still needed to move their cargo around on the backs of donkeys, since even a wagon with modern suspension systems broke down on the rocky road.

    Most merchants started by taking a boat up Torrviol Lake¡¯s north shore and starting on the road there, but lacking a boat, Mirian opted to circle around through the overgrown trail in the woods. No one would be stupid enough to be traveling on the road at night, so no one would see her departure north and be able to report it. Given that winter was setting in, few merchants would be on the road. Mirian would have to rely on the traveler¡¯s obelisks when she rested, but she¡¯d read that they were still maintained on this road since unlike in other places, there was no spellward.

    Once she did leave the spellward around Torrviol, she cast nightvision, a neat spell that shifted infrared light near her eyes into the visible spectrum, making it much easier to see.

    Near the lake, there was a derelict lumber mill, though by now the forest that had been cut down around it had regrown. Unlike the old growth forest, though, it was rife with underbrush and snags, and even with her enhanced vision, Mirian stumbled several times making her way through it. She was relieved to make it into the older forest, where the towering conifers and mycanoid trees blocked out enough light that the forest floor was empty. In the dim moonlight, with the huge trunks evenly spaced out, the forest looked like a shadowy hall of mirrors.

    Mirian had pulled all-nighters before, and the long walk through the night and into the next morning wasn¡¯t so different. When she finally reached the first traveler¡¯s obelisk, though, she was tired enough that she took the opportunity to rest. She charged the obelisk so that the protective spells would last a few hours, then spent a few minutes scribing a series of glyphs on a sheaf of spellpaper. The divination portion would detect the collapse of the protective spells, which would subsequently trigger the other glyphs, creating a loud noise that would wake her.

    It was a rather complicated solution to not having an alarm candle, but she couldn¡¯t think of a better way. There was no way to maintain mana flow while she slept, so none of the active spells would do it.

    Two hours later, the noise of her elaborate alarm roused her with a start. She groaned, rubbed her eyes, spent a few minutes groggily staring at nothing, then kept going.

    Another hour into her travel and she saw her first dangerous myrvite. A chimera¡ªthis one looking like a giant boar with porcupine spines¡ªwatched her from a hundred feet away. They stood and stared at each other before the creature trotted off, perhaps deciding mushrooms were easier prey. Mirian cast an enhanced hearing spell just to be sure. Annoyingly, that made the crunch of her own footsteps that much louder, but she didn¡¯t want to waste a cycle getting eaten by a myrvite. The spies had drawn most of the predators near Torrviol over to the derelict tower, but that didn¡¯t mean there weren¡¯t more lurking in the woods.

    Soon after that, she was in the foothills of the Littenords and the path grew steep. At the crest of one hill, she finally got a view of the path ahead and got the feeling that she was woefully unprepared. Through a gap in the trees, she could clearly see the Littenord Range. From her vantage, the slopes seemed impossibly steep, rising up high above, and from the peaks to the passes, they were drenched in snow. They were utterly gorgeous, and also more than a little intimidating. She found herself thinking, I have to walk over those mountains?

    And that was the small range separating Torrviol from Frostland¡¯s Gate. If these were the Littenord, no wonder only fools tried to see what was beyond the Endelice Mountains.

    The guides she¡¯d read had mentioned the journey took about six or seven days to make it to Frostland¡¯s Gate, and since she was young and fit, she¡¯d thought maybe she could manage five. But with the heavy pack already a burden on her shoulders, she got the creeping feeling her journey was going to be on the long end of that number. At least up here in the north she didn¡¯t have to weigh herself down with water since it was so abundant around her.

    That night, she slept under a traveler¡¯s obelisk again, and she dreamed of the Ominian again. It was a familiar dream. Together, they walked across Enteria. Sometimes, it was the scrublands near Alkazaria, sometimes the foothills of grand mountains, sometimes strange forests she¡¯d never seen before. Always, the places were devoid of all signs of human habitation, but other life grew about in abundance. Always, she found herself thinking, this place. This place. This place, over and over again. The feeling she got was the same feeling she felt walking around Torrviol, or Arriroba. It settled over her like a warm blanket.

    When she woke, she was sad to be alone, and sad to not have bought a thicker bedroll at the market. Her back was sore, and the morning frost had seeped into her bones. She quickly wrapped herself in a warmth spell and ate another breakfast of jerky, hardtack, and dried fruit. Again, she looked up at the mountain pass ahead, and still couldn¡¯t believe she had to go up that thing. Torrviol still wouldn¡¯t get snow until the 12th, but up here in the mountains, the soft flakes were drifting down already, and the mountain peaks scraped against the bellies of dark clouds that promised more.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Mirian steeled herself, adjusted the straps of her pack, and began her ascent of the pass.

    The trail devolved into constant switchbacks to account for the steepness of the slopes. At first, the trail was bare and the snow mostly kept off the ground by the thick canopy of pines and caps of the mushroom trees, but as she rose, the trees thinned out and the path became drenched in snow. Fortunately, decades of travelers had left the marks on the road, and there were helpful sigils, cairns, and fallen trees laid parallel to the ground to help guide travelers as the road became subsumed by white drifts. Though she¡¯d seen no one yet, there was at least one traveler and some donkeys ahead of her, and she was thankful their prints on the churned snow also helped mark the trail.

    By the end of the third day, Mirian knew she¡¯d underestimated the time she needed. The next obelisk was halfway up the pass, below the overhang of a sheer granite cliff that offered some respite from the winds that were now blowing. She was by no means in bad shape; she¡¯d run regularly and dueled regularly before the start of the time loops, and that fitness had stuck with her even after she¡¯d mostly stopped exercising. However, as she lay down on her bedroll, her legs were sore as anything, and the snow had started falling much heavier.

    When she woke, it was to a pile of snow about ten feet high surrounding herself and the obelisk.

    That morning, she worked on scribing several divination spells. One would help her find the next obelisk, and the other, signs of the road. In a blow to the dignity of arcanists everywhere, the spell detect human presence worked by detecting human feces. She made sure it worked, then checked the other divination spell on the obelisk she was already at. She knew once she left the shelter of this one, the trail was going to be nearly impossible to find without the spells.

    What she really wanted was a levitation spell. Sadly, the inks she needed to scribe the spell weren¡¯t easily available in Torrviol, and she hadn¡¯t had time to make them herself. She had to figure out another way she¡¯d get over the pass. There was far too much snow to clear with heat spells, and it had grown too deep to walk in. What she needed was a pair of snowshoes, but of course, she didn¡¯t have the materials or the expertise to make them.

    Then she got an idea.

    She combined her knowledge of the spells heat displacement and warmth to make a spell that would chill the ground under her feet, taking the heat energy it was displacing to warm her. Then, she made a staircase in the snow with manipulate water, and once on top of the snow, she used Jei¡¯s crystal spinner spell. Usually, she used it to make fine quartz wands, but here, she could spin the snow into hardened ice that radiated from her boots in a web. That was, she could make snowshoes out of ice. The material was, after all, everywhere.

    It took some time and several attempts to get them right, but in the end, it saved her from simply being stuck by the huge mounds of snow covering the pass.

    An hour later she was on her way, legs still aching, but making pleasant progress. With the trail completely covered, she made her best guess at the direction of the pass. It wasn¡¯t that hard; the trail had been taking her between two of the tall peaks, so she figured as long as she stayed in between them, she was fine. And she had looked at a map back in Cairnmouth.

    Even with the ice-shoes, though, the trek was brutal as she slogged her way up steep mounds of snow, weaving through towering cliffs and boulder fields. The reflection of the sun off the snow was bright enough she found herself using a veil light spell to protect her eyes. When at last she got to the top of the pass, though, it was worth it.

    Enough clouds had parted that far beyond she could see the Endelice Mountains, jagged teeth of ice surrounded by moats of majestic glaciers; they stretched across the horizon. A plain of snow, and then a vast untouched forest lay between the two ranges, the colossal trees dusted white, interspersed with strange mycanoid trees with colors and growth patterns she¡¯d never seen before. In the distance, wyverns drifted across the sky. Frostland¡¯s Gate was still out of sight, the river valley it sat in still blocked by the smaller mountains she still had to cross.

    By then, the sun was beginning to set, so Mirian searched for the obelisk with her divination spell. At first, she could barely sense it. She¡¯d strayed quite far from the trail, so dusk was approaching as she finally found it.

    In the morning, she reformed her ice-shoes and set off down the slopes. The abundant snow made it easy to half-walk half-slide down the mountain, and she found herself making up for her lost time. But in her haste to gain distance, she¡¯d strayed from the trail again, and it took her three hours of searching to even get a signal on any human traces or the obelisk. After that, she tried to stay closer to the path by casting divination spells once an hour to make sure she was close.

    Once she made it to the forest, she was finally out of the worst of the snow drifts, but the thick tangled roots of the trees and mycanoid growths had overtaken the road, and then the road started to go up again. She only just made it to the next obelisk. One more obelisk, she thought, settling down to rest for the night. She just needed to go over another small pass, rest there, then trek through a valley, and she¡¯d finally be at Frostland¡¯s Gate.

    The next day, she was making her way up another slope when she heard a loud crack! echoing through the woods. At first, she thought it was gunfire, but she¡¯d heard plenty of that; the sound was wrong. She looked around. There were trees, big outcroppings of granite, and dense underbrush scattered throughout, but no movement. Mirian continued on her way. Then, a few minutes later, she heard the same sound again.

    This time, closer.

    Mirian didn¡¯t want to enhance her hearing to listen for whatever was approaching because she didn¡¯t want to damage her hearing. Instead, she quietly set her pack down, turned her spellbook to the incineration beam page, and went still, listening carefully.

    The next crack! was closer, and this time, her eyes caught movement. A white and blue form moving past a tree, and as it did, part of the tree shattered, sending bark and frozen sap spraying out.

    The creature approached the tree, sniffing around, perhaps for insects, and then it sniffed the air again and saw her.

    Its body and form was similar to a grizzly bear, but instead of fur, it was covered in thick icy plates, jagged icicles protruding from its back like a spine. Instead of the normal jaw of a mammal, its jaws swung out to the sides like those of an insect. Its paws were large, broad, and had razor sharp black claws. It watched her with four beady, cerulean eyes.

    When Mirian had been preparing for myrvites, she¡¯d expected to maybe fight some frost drakes or a particularly brave lesser wyvern. Maybe a chimera or two.

    This was something else entirely. She tried to remember what Professor Viridian had said about glaciavores, because though she¡¯d only seen them in textbooks, there was no doubt in her mind that this was one.

    ¡®Never get into a situation where you¡¯re near one,¡¯ was what she was pretty sure he¡¯d said. They could easily outrun a human, they were stronger than a bear, and, of course, they were spell resistant. There was only one option for her, then.

    Mirian got ready to fight.

 Chapter 95 - The Road to Frostlandéˆ¥æªš Gate

    The glaciavore let out a blood-curdling roar. Mirian led with an incineration beam. It would have been powerful enough to lance a bog lion, but the ice armor on the huge myrvite only steamed. No heat attacks she thought as she circled behind the trunk of a tree so that the glaciavore couldn¡¯t charge her, then peeked out around as her hands flipped through her spellbook. She always organized her spellbook the same way, a habit she¡¯d picked up preparing for the Battle of Torrviol, since the last thing you wanted in a fight was to be trying to remember what page you put a spell on.

    It didn¡¯t seem to be in any rush as it moved forward. Mirian watched as the ground around it froze, ice crystals hardening before her very eyes. Glaciavores had a natural heat displacement aura that extended a few feet around them. Another reason engaging it in melee would be foolhardy. If it was flash-freezing trees it passed, even getting close would kill her.

    Mirian carefully retreated, then cast warmth around her because she could already feel the bite of the cold from the glaciavore even at a distance. Then it did charge.

    She bolted left, scrambling over a nearby log and then diving through some light underbrush, then as she hefted her spellbook from its chain at her side again, looked for where she might be able to move next. At least the glaciavore¡¯s big size was a hindrance to its movement. It made a growling noise and started circling around again, keeping its four beady eyes trained on Mirian.

    A nearby tree let out a pop! as a section of its bark shattered. Mirian felt the bark splatter in her hair as she carefully stepped backward. She sent out a force blades spell. It was powerful enough to carve chunks out of the trees, but the blades just left wet marks on the armor. It was like trying to attack a lake with ice skates.

    As the glaciavore rumbled forward again, pincer-mouth tearing through a piece of trunk. It started tearing up the underbrush between it and Mirian with its claws. Mirian dashed up the trail as it crashed through in hot pursuit.

    Further up the trail, the road circled around another outcropping of rock. She scanned the boulders strewn about it. Direct attacks on the beast would just fizzle against it. She needed a new strategy.

    From the chill deepening around her, she knew the glaciavore was gaining. Quickly, she flipped through her spellbook to lift multiple objects.

    When all else failed, she could always rely on a classic.

    With a mental heave, Mirian picked up three of the granite boulders, each weighing at least fifty pounds. She sent them past her, two of the rocks passing her shoulders by inches and the third going so close overhead she felt the whoosh of air. That was followed by the crunch! of ice shattering and¡ªat last¡ªa roar of pain from the beast. She whirled, keeping her mana flowing and concentration on the spell. Moving three objects at once was difficult enough that she had trouble remembering to move her body too. She sent the three boulders swirling about the glaciavore, smashing into it one after another, again and again.

    Her mana was draining rapidly, but the beast couldn¡¯t ignore the attacks. Instead of coming after her, it was growling and swatting at the offending boulders.

    Behind the glaciavore, Mirian noticed that one of the larger pines had been heavily damaged, first by the icy aura, then by the creature as it had smashed into it with a paw. She dropped two of the boulders, continuing to channel mana into the third one. Meanwhile, she crept slowly to the side so she was behind another trunk, then used one of the alternate enhancements on her force blade spell. This changed it from multiple blades to one big one.

    She didn¡¯t attack the glaciavore. Instead, she went after the tree behind it.

    The force spell took huge chunks out of the tough wood. Then Mirian swapped to a manipulate object, enhanced for raw power, and yanked on the trunk on a high point for the leverage.

    There was a tremendous ripping sound. Wood splintered, and then the tree groaned as it fell forward.

    The glaciavore stopped batting at the annoying boulder just in time to see the tree plummeting toward it. With a crash that echoed through the forest, it landed directly on top of the beast. Its ice-shell split open, and there was a wet crunch.

    It twitched once more, then went still. Gradually, the frost-aura receded, and Mirian could finally ditch the warmth spell.

    She let out a breath she¡¯d been holding, then cautiously looked around to make sure nothing else was nearby.  Hopefully, the glaciavore had already chased away anything else that might try to eat her. She waited to see if it really was dead, then approached it. She closed her eyes as she steadied her breathing, imagining the Mausoleum she saw so often in her dreams. Along the eastern wing (or what she assumed was east), she found the reliefs of strange creatures. They were carved to be so lifelike it was easy to imagine them just leaping from the wall, yet so alien that they made myrvites look mundane.

    Glaciavores, she remembered at last, had two spell organs. All four eyes were magical, and it had its own unique organ, called a coldheart, that moved an entirely different circulatory system around. The eyes were easy enough to pry open out of its head once she¡¯d smashed the skull open. The shone like sapphires¡ªthe world¡¯s creepiest sapphires. She¡¯d heard of people wearing them in jewelry, but couldn¡¯t fathom why someone would want to wear blue eyeballs. However, they were also fantastic for any wand that used any of the glyphs that regulated heat energy, not just displacement, but heat generation.

    The coldheart took some time to get out, because even with the ice armor shattered, the beast¡¯s hide was tough as anything. Also, it was beneath a tree. Thoughtless of whoever put it there, Mirian joked to herself.

    The heart had been mostly pulped by the tree landing on the glaciavore, since it was just below the spine, but she emptied out one of her drawstring bags so she could stuff the remains of it in there. Someone in Frostland¡¯s Gate would want to distill the magichemicals from it.

    Really, the whole thing was valuable, but there was no way she was hauling a literal one ton beast all the way to the village.

    Mirian¡¯s traveler¡¯s pack was a mess. The glaciavore had walked right by it, freezing everything in it. Several of the ink bottles had shattered and her waterskin had burst. Fortunately, she could thaw the pack and the food, and her bedroll had an enchantment, so it had never frozen. She ditched anything that was unsalvageable in a pile by the corpse, then set off again.

    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    And again, she barely made it to the obelisk at the top of the next pass. She was surprised to see the ward already up, another traveler resting by the hearth stone. She made small talk, introducing herself as Niluri. When he said he spent his life on the road, she believed him; his face and arms had this weather-beaten look to it, and even though the hearth stone wasn¡¯t putting out much heat, he¡¯d taken off his cloak and jacket, not the slightest bit bothered by the cold.

    When he asked, ¡°Seen any myrvites on the road?¡± she hesitated at first, then answered truthfully. The man stood up instantly. ¡°Where? How long ago? Did it follow you?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s dead,¡± Mirian assured him.

    ¡°Thank the Gods,¡± he said, ¡°But don¡¯t frighten people like that. Do you know what killed it?¡±

    ¡°I did.¡±

    That brought a moment of silence to the campsite. The man blinked several times. ¡°What are you trying to pull?¡±

    Mirian brought out the bag of glaciavore eyes and tossed it to him. ¡°Check them, if you want. They still have dried blood on them. Did you know glaciavore blood is unusually dark, but the cryoblood is blue?¡± She was so tired of people not believing her. Rationally, she knew why. She still looked young, even with the soul-transformation, and didn¡¯t dress like anyone particularly powerful or important.

    The man was quiet again. Finally he said, handing the bag of eyes back, ¡°Then you have my thanks, and my apologies.¡±

    It sort of killed the small talk, though. The man checked on his donkeys and their packs, then they didn¡¯t say much to each other as they ate dinner. She¡¯d imagined, during the long trek, meeting someone on the road and laughing together as they swapped stories. She was tired of being lonely, and the long journey had only exacerbated it.

    At least you have Beatrice to look forward to, she thought. But then again, she didn¡¯t look like Mirian anymore. And if Sulvorath did manage to track her down¡ªhe did have that airship skiff, after all¡ªshe didn¡¯t want him going after Lily¡¯s sister.

    The clouds covered the stars as another bout of snow swept over the Littenord.

    ***

    Mirian and the other traveler were terse with each other in the morning. Snow had once again covered the trail, and though the man had snowshoes, his donkeys didn¡¯t, so it would be slow going for him. But he did know the route very well, and told Mirian what landmarks to look for.

    She reformed her ice-shoes, which the man was bemused to see, then set off. Her provisions were all but gone, so she was eager to make it to Frostland¡¯s Gate.

    After a mile or two on the trail, she saw a few lesser ice wyverns circling above her, deciding if she¡¯d make easy prey. She chased them off with a few incineration beam spells that singed their wings and sent them flying off.

    She¡¯d thought maybe she would reach the village early, but another brief snowstorm swept in and the visibility shrunk to nothing. Mirian found herself constantly needing to cast her divination spells to keep pointed in the right direction, and at one point even stopped to scribe a compass spell because even finding north was impossible. Fortunately, the capricious weather relented after a few hours. Finally, she saw the glyph lamps and spellward that marked the outskirts of Frostland¡¯s Gate, and beyond it, the old palisade.

    The whole village was smaller than even Arriroba. Part of this was because it was compact, with stout stone and wood buildings that clustered around each other like cold travelers around a campfire. The other part was because it was at the feet of the frostlands, where constant storms raged, the land was locked in eternal winter, and some of the most terrifying myrvites not found deep underground or in the ocean lived.

    Not many people wanted to live in such a place.

    For those that liked the challenge though, it provided. Frostland¡¯s Gate was a strange place. There were no manors or wealthy enclaves, nor beggars. Basic supplies were expensive to get up there, but the village more than made up for it with the income they brought in from myrvite hunting. Brave arcanists and trappers had worked for several centuries to stem the tide of myrvites that wandered down from the frostlands into Baracuel, and there was an official military barracks to help with that task. It also supplied Torrviol and the rest of the north with the myrvite parts it needed for its magic. For their life of hardship, the people were well compensated. After a few years, most people left Frostland¡¯s Gate for something more comfortable.

    Unlike Torrviol¡¯s spellward, which one could just walk through, the spellward here had regular patrols. A pair of soldiers met her at the barrier, and Mirian had to bite her tongue so that she didn¡¯t ask why they weren¡¯t saluting her. All those years of fighting the Battle of Torrviol were still inside her, and she felt the impulse that what she had achieved there should be recognized.

    But it couldn¡¯t be.

    ¡°Anyone else traveling with you?¡± the first soldier asked, peering out into the snowfields behind her.

    ¡°No, just me,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I¡¯m Niluri, coming up from Cairnmouth.¡±

    ¡°Just you?¡± the second soldier asked. He sounded surprised.

    ¡°Just me. Though I met another merchant on the road, though he¡¯s probably a few hours behind me. Sounded like he¡¯d been here before.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± said the first soldier, looking again out in the distance. ¡°Thanks. We¡¯ll keep an eye out. Anything to declare?¡±

    Mirian had read about this. Because Baracuel was trying to crack down on myrvite part smuggling, and a great deal of parts came from Frostland¡¯s Gate, they had a local ordinance requiring all visitors to declare any myrvite parts upon entering or leaving. It was a small village, and she had no contacts yet, so she did so. ¡°Glaciavore spell organs, though the coldheart got a bit mashed.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll want to stop by the Royal Courier¡¯s building. It¡¯s that one,¡± he said, pointing at the building with orange and white trim and the Baracueli lion waving about on a banner. ¡°They take care of all declarations and levy any of the fees. Then, this one¡¯s not official, you probably want to visit Elsadorra next door, she can get you an appraisal on anything you find. I do mean anything, but she specializes in myrvite parts and Labyrinth artifacts. You¡­ found a dead glaciavore?¡±

    Mirian closed her eyes and took a deep breath. People would know soon enough. ¡°Yes.¡±

    They asked several questions to pin down the location, both soldiers quite concerned that a predator that large had gotten so far south.

    ¡°Been a long journey,¡± Mirian said finally.

    ¡°Oh! Yes, of course. Welcome to Frostland¡¯s Gate,¡± the second guard said. ¡°Last bit. Traveler¡¯s lodgings are one block down from the Couriers. Taxes partially fund it, so it¡¯s free to stay at.¡±

    Mirian paid the two drachim fee to the office with a promissory note, since after all the supplies and purchases she¡¯d made in Torrviol, she was completely out of coin. But since the fee was paid on a percentage of the worth of the parts, she was quite happy to; the tax was that high because the eyes and heart together were worth a full ten doubloons at least. Mirian skipped the appraiser¡¯s office so she could head to the Kivinotsuur, which was the name of the large stone lodge that took up an entire city block.

    The base architecture was medieval, though it had been renovated with modern glyph lamps, hearth stones, and a fancy looking spell engine that played music in the central hall.

    The smell of roasting meat and long simmered stews and the warmth of the hall gave Mirian a visceral feeling of comfort. It only took her a bit to get a room, and she was happy to pay a small fee (again, with a promissory note) for one with extra comforts and its own cozy workroom. The warm meal, soft bed, and heated bath was a blessing after the long journey.

    She slept well, and as she did, a new dream came to her. She and the Ominian walked out into the Endelice Mountains, though in the logic of dreams, she traveled much faster and with less effort than if she was actually walking. The monsters that lived there simply watched as the colossal statue strode with her, and even the storms parted for Them, leaving a vast sky the same color as the glimmering glaciers below.

    As They walked with her, she felt the reverence They had. Though the endless ice cracked with fissures and dagger-like peaks were death to any that tried to cross them, the desolation had this beauty to it that warmed her as much as the hot stew she¡¯d had before bed.

    Frostland¡¯s Gate, she thought, looking back, though by now there was nothing to see but more mountains. I wonder what I¡¯ll find here.

 Chapter 96 - Frostlandéˆ¥æªš Gate

    She slept for at least ten hours, then woke feeling refreshed. The room she¡¯d paid extra for in the Kivinotsuur had its own hearth, and the warmth from the little spell engine kept the room warm despite the raging winds that blew down from the Endelice. Fur rugs and the stone construction retained that heat, while two glyph lamps¡¯ comforting glow was a nice contrast to the streets outside; out there, the world was tinged blue by the heavy clouds filtering the light.

    The work room was small, but would serve her needs. It had two polished stone tables and several shelves for her to stock tools. She started by unloading what ink bottles had survived her encounter with the glaciavore, and took stock of what she¡¯d need to replace. Supplies were scarce in Frostland¡¯s Gate, but she could always distill some of the magichemicals she needed herself.

    She and Respected Jei had talked about how Mirian would eventually need to explore new concepts in magic, because nothing they knew now could stop the apocalyptic leyline storms or the crashing moon. She¡¯d also had long talks with Xipuatl, Arenthia, and Lecne, and had learned enough soul magic that she was beginning to see places where arcane magic and soul magic might connect, or perhaps even overlap. While what she really wanted was access to Torrian Tower¡¯s advanced arcane physics laboratories, there were experiments she could do here. Some of the small myrvites that lived up in the area, like frost minks and rime beetles, might be perfect.

    That, she could have done anywhere, though. What she really wanted was to study the materials from the Labyrinth. If there was something that would really bring together Xipuatl¡¯s theories, she thought it would be there.

    Lily had talked about her sister, Beatrice, and her work up here. Three months from now, her team was going to be shipping back what artifacts they had found and data they had collected to Torrviol, but, of course, that would never happen. So she needed to get into Beatrice¡¯s expedition group.

    A few months ago, Mirian would have just walked up and told Beatrice what was happening. It was simple, easy, and she had the glaciavore eyes to help prove it. However, she had no idea if the Akanan spies had made it this far north, or if the Syndicate smugglers up here could have their information bought, or even if there might be another time traveler who had their sights set on this village for some reason. She didn¡¯t know if Sulvorath took his airship skiff in a wider route now. Hopefully, he was dealing with the fallout of having the spy¡¯s headquarters burned down and would be too busy, but she couldn¡¯t be sure. She had to approach this endeavor with caution.

    After breakfast, her first stop was at Elsadorra¡¯s Appraisal Shop. She already had a pretty good idea of what the glaciavore parts were worth, but she needed to start getting to know the people of the town.

    Elsadorra¡¯s shop was as stark as it was organized. She apparently wasted nothing on comfort, with only a single hearth stone in the center of the shop, and even that seemed to be set to a low heat spell. Elsadorra, who was arranging glass vials with magichemicals in them into perfect rows on a shelf, turned as she entered. She was middle aged, and didn¡¯t seem at all bothered by the cold. She was wearing a band with several lenses attached to one side. They looked to be jeweler¡¯s lenses, though they had more glyphs than Lily¡¯s glasses.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± she asked.

    Mirian¡¯s first thought was that she had already offended her somehow. ¡°I was advised that I should get my items formally appraised by you,¡± she said. ¡°The soldiers at the gate and the cook at the Kivinotsuur both said it, so I figured I ought to.¡±

    ¡°They were correct. What do you have?¡± she said in the same dispassionate tone, and Mirian realized that was probably just how she talked.

    ¡°Glaciavore eyes and a mashed coldheart.¡±

    Unlike everyone else she¡¯d mentioned those to, Elsadorra didn¡¯t even have an ounce of skepticism or surprise. ¡°Put the eyes on the table. This part of the table, with the cloth on it. Let me get a container for the heart. Put the heart in the container. Do not get cryoblood on the table.¡±

    Mirian did so, and Elsadorra pulled down one of the lenses so it was in front of her left eye. She spent some time peering at each one, her gloved hands turning them over. One of the lenses had a light beam that shone at the object. When she was done, she set them down.

    ¡°These are high quality crystalline eyes. One has a hairline fracture. Very fresh. Worth three doubloons and one drachm each.¡±

    The heart she took more time to examine. ¡°Coldheart is high quality too. Pity about the damage, could have sold it to Cediri. Myrvite biologist in town. As it is, the alchemistry shop will buy it. Worth two doubloons and three drachms. I will prepare papers certifying that value. The cost is sixteen beadcoins.¡±

    That was well below what appraisers usually charged. It barely covered the cost of the paper and the wax. ¡°Why don¡¯t you charge more?¡± Mirian asked, curious.

    ¡°I give good deals so that you will like me more, and then when you have something I actually want, I will be able to get it. I am not interested in money. I am interested in novel things, from either the Labyrinth or the Endelice.¡±

    ¡°Ah,¡± Mirian replied. It was a startling amount of honesty from a merchant. As she looked around the shelves, though, she could see that several of the objects behind the counter were of labyrinthine origin.

    That itself, she realized, was important. She hadn¡¯t been to the Labyrinth yet.

    But she had dreamed it. And the large stone block behind the counter, the strange formation of multicolored pseudopipes, and the wall fragment overgrown with prismatic fungus that was beneath a glass globe¡ªshe¡¯d seen them all before in her dreams.

    ¡°That¡¯s my plan. To go down into the Labyrinth. I need to find artifacts with magical properties. Things on the edge of human understanding. Who¡¯s a good person to talk to about that?¡±

    Elsadorra used a thin glass pipe to put exactly five drops of wax on each piece of paper, then stamped it with her signet, then washed her signet ring and the glass pipe in a basin. ¡°The Torrviol Academy Expedition is doing research you would be interested in, but they don¡¯t take recruits. You might be able to pay them for their notes. Aelius heads the Ennecus Group looking to go to the lower levels. There are two other groups, but they stick to the first level of the Labyrinth. Caution is not overly lucrative, but neither has lost any members in three full years.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I¡¯m Niluri, by the way. It¡¯s good to meet you.¡± She held out her hand to shake.

    ¡°I will remember your name,¡± Elsadorra said, and didn¡¯t even look at Mirian¡¯s extended hand. ¡°Goodbye.¡±

    Mirian dropped her hand and walked out the door, feeling only a little awkward. When she glanced back, she could see Elsadorra¡¯s shoulders relax as she crossed the threshold. Not a people person, Mirian thought. She could sympathize.

    She sold the heart, mostly because the cryoblood was starting to seep through her bag, then stocked up on materials for the experiments she was planning. Once her room had a functional workshop, she went off to find Beatrice¡¯s research team.

    It turned out they liked to chat and eat at the local taverns. There were only two taverns in the village, which made searching them quite easy: End of Civilization (which due to a pun in Friian, also meant ¡®no civilization¡¯) and Lager Then Life. There was also a restaurant on the adjacent block called A Mazing Eats, so clearly the town was run by very funny people.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Beatrice¡¯s group ended up being at Lager Then Life, which had an old fashioned fire running in an actual fireplace. Well, there¡¯s certainly enough trees up north.

    It took everything for Mirian not to run up to Beatrice with a smile on her face. She wanted to. She¡¯d always liked Lily¡¯s sister, but she wasn¡¯t wearing her real face, and she needed to be cautious. Instead, she walked up and said, ¡°Mind if I join you?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Beatrice instantly, as her two companions said, ¡°Not at all.¡±

    ¡°Beatrice,¡± said the first man, sighing. He was a large man with dark hair and a well-trimmed beard.

    ¡°People only ask that before they start annoying us and end the conversation with a bad deal,¡± Beatrice protested.

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± said the second man, who was larger than the first and had a warhammer that was leaning up against the wall near him. The way he carried himself, she had no doubt he knew how to use it. Unlike his companion, his dirty blond beard was as wild as the north forests.

    Mirian sat. What she wanted to say was, ¡®hey Beatrice, good to see you too,¡¯ but she restrained herself.

    Beatrice rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair.

    ¡°Niluri. New in town, but you knew that. Elsadorra told me about your group. I¡¯d like to learn more about what you¡¯ve been doing and what you¡¯ve discovered in the Labyrinth. I¡¯m willing to pay.¡± She figured that was a good start.

    ¡°Great,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°Let''s see the coin.¡±

    Mirian put a doubloon on the table and slid it her way.

    That startled Beatrice, then her eyes narrowed. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m researching the leylines. There¡¯s some anomalous readings, and I think the Labyrinth is connected. That, and I think the Labyrinth has new magic that could be used to better understand the leylines.¡±

    ¡°Then you want Torrviol Academy. You might have missed it on your way here, but it¡¯s easy to find. Head south. Look for the fancy buildings and the really tall tower,¡± Beatrice replied, dripping with sarcasm.

    ¡°Beatrice,¡± the first man said.

    ¡°Cediri,¡± Beatrice said, annoyed.

    ¡°You¡¯re not giving her a fair shake. Remember what we talked about? The successful academic pays attention to the business side of things too,¡± Cediri said, tapping the gold coin on the table.

    ¡°No, you said that, I just made noncommittal grunting noises so you¡¯d shut up faster. Right, Grimald? Don¡¯t roll your eyes at me. Listen, Niluri. What you¡¯ve just done is suspicious as hell. Who are you working for and why do they want to steal our research?¡±

    Gods, Mirian thought. She hadn¡¯t expected Beatrice of all people to be this difficult. Here she was, needing to pull pages from Nicolus¡¯s book on manipulation on her best friend¡¯s sister just to keep the conversation going. ¡°A small research group out of Madinahr. We were nobodies, until there was a magical eruption between the tracks to us and Alkazaria. Then we got a bunch of funding so that we could find out why it happened and make sure it didn¡¯t happen again. Train derailments are expensive. I drew the short straw, so I¡¯m up here.¡±

    ¡°You have measurement devices? Instruments?¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t fit in my pack. I¡¯ll be building them here.¡±

    ¡°I think I¡¯d have heard of an artificer of that caliber, and I¡¯ve never heard of you. Who mentored you?¡±

    Mirian sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll be honest, I didn¡¯t expect a full interrogation.¡±

    ¡°We are under contract with Torrviol Academy,¡± Grimald said.

    Cediri groaned. ¡°Letting her glance at the notes for a fair price wouldn¡¯t hurt anyone. What Ferrandus doesn¡¯t know won¡¯t hurt him. Besides, he¡¯s busy with that secret project, and I¡¯m inclined to think he forgot we exist, given the last budget cut we got. And the fact that the last shipment of materials seems to have gotten ¡®lost.¡¯¡±

    The three of them exchanged meaningful glances, and Mirian got the sense this wasn¡¯t the first time they¡¯d had this kind of conversation. ¡°If I can¡¯t see the notes, can I join your team in the exploration?¡±

    Grimald said, ¡°Yes¡± at the exact same time Beatrice said, ¡°Absolutely not.¡±

    They both looked at Cediri. ¡°What? Oh, it¡¯s up to me, then. Great, now someone will be mad at me no matter what.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯d be a liability. She¡¯s clearly never been down there.¡±

    ¡°She killed a glaciavore by herself,¡± Grimald said, which made Mirian wonder how he¡¯d found out that fast. Grimald knows the soldiers, she noted.

    Cediri sighed. ¡°Sorry, Beatrice. We¡¯ve had too many close calls. Another spellcaster of even moderate competence would do a lot of good.¡±

    ¡°Or found a dead one on the road,¡± Beatrice muttered under her breath, which made Mirian glare at her. She really wanted to call her out for being a jerk.

    After that, Grimald and Cediri took turns asking her about the spells she knew and what she¡¯d already heard about the Labyrinth while Beatrice stewed in silence. When Grimald tried to slide the doubloon back to Mirian (while Cediri stared at it longingly), Mirian said, ¡°Keep it. As an act of goodwill, and because it sounds like you could use some more supplies after the lost shipment.¡±

    Grimald and Cediri thanked her, but that only made Beatrice¡¯s eyes narrow further, and she could practically feel Beatrice thinking ¡®what¡¯s your game?¡¯ at her. She wanted to tell her I¡¯m on your side.

    ¡°Our next expedition is in two days,¡± Grimald said. ¡°We eat breakfast here and go over the plan. Can you have the spells we need scribed by then?¡±

    ¡°I can,¡± Mirian said. If there was one thing the time loop had gotten her, it was the ability to speed-scribe since she¡¯d done it so much. She was missing a few magical inks, but some of them she could make, and others she could do without.

    ¡°Good,¡± Grimald said. ¡°Now, for the most important thing.¡± He waggled his eyebrows. ¡°Lunch.¡±

    Lunch was yak steak, yak bone-broth stew, and bread with berry jam. It was horrifically under-spiced, in Mirian¡¯s opinion, but it still was far beyond all the dried food she¡¯d been eating. To be fair, all the spices she liked grew a few hundred miles south of them. Frostland¡¯s Gate had yak herders, some woolly pigs, and several greenhouses full of hardy vegetables on the outskirts of the village, just inside the spellward. Only a few berry plants and the notoriously tough winterleaf grew in the small fields.

    In the day, the yaks roamed out to munch on whatever they could find, then they were all herded back into pens inside the spellward. Both the greenhouses and the herd were the lifeblood of the village. Without them, the village was untenable.

    Grimald was happy to talk about anything and everything to do with the region. Everyone deemed fit enough in the village had to take turns doing a monthly patrol around the area to cull myrvites, and there were giant bells people rang in case of a myrvite encroachment. The spellward created an ambient field that disrupted spell organs. It would kill small myrvites outright, but larger ones just found the experience intolerable enough that it repelled them. However, a glaciavore motivated by hunger could breach it, as could large swarms of frost scarabites, and the bells would summon everyone to the defense.

    ¡°How often does that happen?¡± Mirian wondered. Beatrice¡¯s arm was still bandaged from the wyvern attack Lily had told her about.

    ¡°About once every two years, and even then usually only at the end of winter when the big predators are the hungriest,¡± Cediri said.

    ¡°What¡¯s the biggest myrvite that¡¯s attacked?¡±

    Cediri and Grimald looked at each other. ¡°Ice carnipede, some twenty years back. Killed half the herd of yaks and smashed a few greenhouses before people could chase it off. They had to bring up an archmage and a bunch of Praetorians to hunt it down. If a carnipede attacks, I¡¯m running for it.¡±

    Professor Viridian hadn¡¯t covered those in class, so Mirian asked about them.

    ¡°Imagine a centipede the height of an elephant, covered in carapace about as strong as steel armor. It can breathe an icy gale, stab a leg through an entire yak effortlessly, and let out a roar that makes your ears bleed. Or to put it another way, they eat glaciavores and polar bears,¡± Cediri said. ¡°They usually stay up in the Endelice, which is yet another reason no one not suicidal goes hiking up there.¡±

    After lunch, Mirian wandered around to get a better sense of the town. Most people were friendly enough, though everyone kept busy enough that any smalltalk she made was always cut short. Snow had to be shoveled to keep the streets clear, roofs patched up, and fossilized myrvite distributed to every spell engine and spellward tower. The good news was, it seemed not much was out of the ordinary.

    Of course, Torrviol had seemed fine enough on the surface, so Mirian stuck with her story and kept her ears and eyes open. That evening, she started putting up wards in her room.

 Chapter 97 - Into the Labyrinth

    After Mirian finished putting up basic wards in her quarters, she started working on an eavesdropping device she could deploy, then an all-purpose divination device. Already, she was annoyed that she didn¡¯t have access to a focus. What she really wanted to do was scan the town¡¯s populace for the kinds of soul marks Specter liked to put on her agents or for other abnormalities. Arenthia had said that such marks weren¡¯t common practice, but that was during her tenure years ago. A focus would also help her scan soul energy in the Labyrinth. How many priests have bothered to investigate down there? she wondered.

    It would have to wait. For now, she¡¯d get as much information as she could. Still, she felt an urge to scream sometimes. Everything about the time loop required a great deal of tolerance for repetition, and she was growing impatient with it all. One disaster conversation with Beatrice had been enough; it was not something she wanted to repeat.

    The divination device ended up being modeled on three different devices she¡¯d made at different points in her loops. One part detected passages, another light anomalies, another glyph sequences, and another different types of energy. It was inefficient, bulky, and a bit of a mess, but she could always revise the design later when she had a better idea of what to look for and what the expeditions usually did.

    Then she worked on her spellbook the rest of the day, stuffing into the pages every combat spell she could think of, and every divination spell she hadn¡¯t be able to fit into her detector.

    The next day, she met the Torrviol Expeditionary Team for breakfast. Grimald had a map on the table, already marred by grease dripping from the bacon he was munching. ¡°To review. This is what the route to the Vault looked like a week ago. It¡¯s already shifted, as one of the teams has already reported a change in the first level layout. First floor should be clear. Then we stay as close as we can to this region. Expect several fights on the second level. The shaft down to the third level seems to be linked to the Vault, so as long as we find that shaft, we should be able to avoid actually needing to fight down there. The shaft had stairs last time, but nothing the two times before, so we¡¯ll take the rope. Niluri, your job is to learn and follow orders the first time. Can you do that?¡±

    Mirian nodded.

    ¡°Great. If we encounter Scrappy, we disengage and wait outside the vault until it goes away.¡±

    ¡°Scrappy?¡± Mirian asked, even though she remembered Lily telling her about the Elder automaton that was roaming the vault.

    ¡°Eight-foot tall golem. Nothing we¡¯ve thrown at it has even dented the thing. But it won¡¯t leave the vault, even if you¡¯re just across the threshold. Ready?¡±

    ¡°Yup.¡±

    As they headed toward the building that housed the entrance to the Labyrinth, Mirian heard Beatrice whispering to Cediri, though she didn¡¯t seem to realize Mirian could hear her. ¡°¡­don¡¯t trust her. She¡¯s far too calm for someone who¡¯s never been down there before.¡±

    Cediri whispered something back, but she couldn¡¯t make it out.

    The entrance to the Labyrinth was in the one fortified building in town. Unlike normal fortifications, though, this one had the gear wheel for the portcullis and bars for the doors on the outside. The arrow slits in the building also faced inward. It wasn¡¯t designed to keep people out, but anything that made its way up from getting loose.

    ¡°Remember, if you get lost or stuck down there, you¡¯re on your own. Everyone goes down there at their own risk,¡± one of the soldiers said.

    ¡°Reconsidering?¡± asked Grimald.

    ¡°No,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Mirian knew something of what to expect from both Professor Viridian¡¯s lectures and her dreams. Beatrice first used a glyphkey that all authorized expeditions were given on a second door inside, then took a self-moving platform, dubbed an ¡®elevator¡¯ by her companions, down a vertical shaft. It was a strange experience for her, but it certainly was nicer than taking that many stairs. It lowered them into a large cavern hanging with unnaturally glowing stalactites. At the back of the cavern was the door. It loomed large, at least twenty feet high, with black statues of twisted creatures made of too many spines and teeth.

    That was the next thing to expect: labyrinthine horrors. Like chimeras, it was a classification of similar myrvites, not a single species, but they were all basically the same: horrible looking creatures without many of the organs common to normal surface life.

    ¡°Spellbooks ready?¡± Grimald asked, hefting his warhammer. The team was prepared with various supplies tucked into their packs, and Grimald also wore a breastplate and plated greaves over his padded armor.

    ¡°Ready,¡± they said, one by one. These checks weren¡¯t just for fun. Once they crossed into the Labyrinth, the team stopped joking and took on an attitude more like the military discipline Mirian had grown used to when helping lead the Battle of Torrviol.

    Cediri had both a spellbook on one chain and a journal full of maps on another chain. The page he was open to was an exact scale copy of the map one of the first-floor-only teams had made. He made a note about the status of the room, as he said, ¡°Room clear. Niluri, you brought your device, right? Can we get a measurement on that?¡±

    Mirian activated one of the glyph sequences, letting the device measure the length, then width of the room. ¡°Seven point four meters by five point eight,¡± she reported.

    ¡°No change to dimensions, then. Good. We¡¯re not likely to see a shift event while we¡¯re here.¡±

    As they moved through the first level, Mirian had both the sensation of deja vu and stepping into the unknown.   She recognized the glowing fungi that lined the strange stone of the Labyrinth, that stone that never did seem to reflect light the way it should. The walls of undecipherable hieroglyphs were also familiar. And yet, being there, actually being there, felt different, and everything about it was more visceral.

    There were strange sounds that echoed through the rooms, and every so often the fungi on the wall would stir, the stalks turning toward them so that the circular, eye-like patches followed them as they moved across a room. The tight hallways linking the rooms felt more claustrophobic. Above them, the tangle of metal pipes were mixed with the pale hyphae of the fungi. Below, the stone floor was seamless.

    Occasionally, Mirian¡¯s device would detect faint glyph sequences, embedded in the stone walls. Even with a magnifying lens, she could barely make them out. Removing them would require special diamond-tipped drills (or Jei¡¯s stone-transmuting spells, Mirian thought), and they were on a strict timeline, so they didn¡¯t stop to examine them.

    As reported, the first level was empty, and none of the rooms had changed since the last team investigated. The other team had encountered a few smaller labyrinthine horrors, but by now the corpses had vanished. That was unnerving, but also normal. What exactly removed them, no one knew. Cediri mentioned they¡¯d used monitoring equipment to try and figure it out. They¡¯d detected strange low vibrations and a small spike in arcane energy, but were no closer to answering the question than anyone else who¡¯d investigated.

    A half-hour of cautious walking brought them to one of the passages to the next level. They made their way through another large gate, this one dripping with stalactites so that the door resembled a maw. Except, Mirian knew from Professor Holvatti¡¯s class there was no way the rock formations were natural. Some sort of slippery slime-mold had grown over the stairs, and Beatrice casually used a flame spell to clear a path down the middle. They had just enough time to pass over it; Mirian could hear it making a schlorp sound as it regrew behind them.

    Grimald paused at the threshold. ¡°Darklamps ahead. Niluri, turn them off for me.¡±

    The darklamps were a strange part of the Labyrinth. Each room had glyphic light sources¡ªthe inspiration for the first glyph lamps¡ªbut sometimes they had darklamps that intentionally bent or displaced light in the room to hide some part of it. It was the kind of place the labyrinthine horrors liked to lurk in. Mirian didn¡¯t have a counter dark spell, but she did have a counter light spell. She used her technique of starting a spell on one page, then flipping to the next to finish the spell with a different glyph set, targeting each darklamp one by one until the shadows receded.

    ¡°Room looks clear. Advancing,¡± Grimald said. ¡°Two doors. Beatrice, cover the north door. I¡¯m on south.¡±

    ¡°Got it,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°Niluri, get us measurements.¡±

    Cediri didn¡¯t need to be told what to do, he was working on his map. Instead of creating a bulky mapping device like Mirian had done for the Underground, he preferred his small journal and using precision measurement spells to guide his pen so that the drawing was to scale. Mirian gave him the measurements.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°Niluri, divination on the north tunnel and the room beyond. Cediri, south.¡±

    Mirian channeled into her divination device. The readout was a bit primitive; the magical detector used a single colored light that changed color depending on the intensity of the arcane force detected, going from red on the low end to violet on the highest end, following the color spectrum of light. The interface could otherwise only project numbers with a numeral illusion spell. Cediri¡¯s device projected a three-dimensional representation of what he detected. Mirian made a note to get a closer look at the construction of it later.

    South, there was a room with two more doors. North, a room with five that split off in all directions. North would take them closer to the third level, but Grimald said, ¡°Get out the device. Blocking barrier engine on that north door. If there¡¯s one room I don¡¯t want overrun in an ambush, it¡¯s this one. We¡¯ll go south and circle back around. Beatrice, you¡¯re on rearguard.¡±

    Beatrice swung her pack off and took out a small spell engine that she set up by the door. She turned it on, and a forcewall spell covered the north door.

    ¡°Good. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    They repeated the process, slowly tracking east and then north.

    ¡°It¡¯s too quiet,¡± Cediri said.

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Grimald said.

    Still, they kept moving, with Cediri keeping a close eye on his developing map. ¡°It was a complete shift of the level,¡± he finally said. ¡°Not a single one of these rooms is the same anymore.¡±

    ¡°But that usually comes with the myrvites returning. We should have seen something by now. I¡¯m calling for a withdrawal.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± echoed both Grimald and Cediri immediately.

    ¡°Shortcut?¡± Grimald asked.

    Cediri shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s a few passages that might line up, but they also might be dead ends. Retrace.¡±

    Grimald and Beatrice swapped positions. Mirian got off a few more measurements. They were so close to the Vault¡ªbut it would be a big waste if she just ran into it and got mashed into pulp by the Elder automaton immediately. Better to get a sense of what the Labyrinth would be like until the end of the cycle, because she had an opportunity no one else did: to know exactly how the Labyrinth would behave when she descended into it. The predictability might get her to deeper depths than anyone. And how deep does it go? she wondered. As deep as the leylines?

    Then she noticed her device was registering higher arcane energy in a room west of them. Ambient mana in the Labyrinth was always higher than the surface, but instead of yellow, it had turned green. ¡°Arcane energy increase west of us,¡± she said immediately.

    Then Beatrice¡¯s face went white. ¡°The blocking barrier just went down.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s under attack?¡± Cediri asked.

    ¡°No, it went down. I got the glyph signal for catastrophic failure. Something smashed it.¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± Grimald said. ¡°We need to move. Double time.¡± He started jogging, and they followed him, keeping a watch on the surround. That¡¯s when they heard the first screeching sound echoing through the tunnels.

    ¡°Labyrinthine horrors. Medium sized ones, by the sound of¡ª¡± Cediri started to say, and then they heard more screeching. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. ¡°Horde,¡± he said. ¡°Horde, horde, horde. Fuck! Grimald, move that fat ass of yours.¡±

    Grimald, who was at least 90% muscle, quickened the pace.

    ¡°Niluri, that device of yours is too bulky,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°Leave it.¡±

    Mirian tossed it to the side without hesitation, which seemed to surprise Beatrice.

    More sounds echoed through the tunnels, screeches mixed with the clattering of carapace on stone.

    ¡°Dead end to the east. Should we cover and fortify?¡± Cediri said.

    ¡°No. No telling how big the horde is. Move until we make contact, then we push forward. Beatrice and Niluri, on rear defense,¡± said Grimald, breathing hard now.

    Then the glyph lamps lining the rooms died all at once, and they were left in a nearly pitch black room. Mirian had her light spell out while Cediri swore loudly. ¡°Three more rooms,¡± he said.

    ¡°Movement ahead,¡± Grimald called out, as Beatrice said, ¡°Movement behind. They¡¯ve caught us.¡±

    ¡°Get to the hall so we can bottleneck them,¡± Cediri said, but it was too late.

    Mirian saw the ones coming from the front first. Some looked like giant centipedes with thin spines protruding off their segments like imitation wings. Others looked like hunting hounds, only they had six legs and no lower jaw, just extra long teeth. When she turned to look at the ones coming up on them, she saw flashes of claws and one that seemed to dozens of eyeballs staring out of its thorax.

    Beatrice opened up with fireball, sending three in quick succession. Mirian felt the heat and wind of the shockwave wash over her, then got out her trusty force blades spell to clean up the survivors. While she could sever the legs and put deep wounds into the creatures, though, they kept coming. She swapped to a burning lightning spell, which electrocuted them, then ignited their flesh, which caused them to writhe on the ground.

    Behind her, she could hear the resounding CRACK of Grimald¡¯s hammer as he smashed a path into the labyrinthine horrors again and again. When she briefly turned, she could see Cediri was alternating between force aegis and fire blades spells to support his slow advance towards the hall, where a seemingly endless tide of the creatures was coming from.

    She and Beatrice began to carefully retreat as they fought. Beatrice switched to an incineration ray spell to pick off the advancing horrors one by one.

    The labyrinthine horrors seemed suicidal, but they also learned. Instead of swarming across the ground, they started coming from multiple doors, some of the smaller ones moving along the walls and others clinging to the ceiling. Mirian channeled more mana into her light spell so that the dancing shadows didn¡¯t make it so hard to see them.

    As she and Beatrice fought, they got into an unspoken rhythm, alternating spells, so that the other had time to pick out new targets.

    ¡°Can¡¯t hold them,¡± Cediri said, then let out a shout like he¡¯d been stabbed.

    ¡°Help them,¡± Mirian said to Beatrice. ¡°I¡¯ve got our rear.¡±

    Beatrice didn¡¯t hesitate. She turned, and Mirian felt the heat at her back as Lily¡¯s sister unleashed another barrage of fire spells.

    Mirian kept with lightning, but swapped to a chain lightning spell. It was more mana intensive, but much easier to hit multiple targets at once, especially ones trying to split up. The labyrinthine creatures seemed to know she had them figured out though, because all of a sudden a swarm of small ones, each the size of a rat but numbering in the dozens, came spilling out from one of the passages. Mirian telekinetically flipped pages to force wall to hold them at bay with something they couldn¡¯t climb, then bent the force wall into a cylinder so they were trapped. As the tiny horrors screamed at her, she sent a fireball of her own down the cylinder, then paged back to burning lightning just in time to skewer a larger myrvite that had charged her from the opposite side of the room. The bladed arms of the creature jerked and spasmed only a few inches from her.

    More screeching echoed down the halls, but for the moment, their rear was clear. Mirian turned, and the others had cleared out the front as well, though the hall was clogged with the now crisp bodies of small horrors.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± said Grimald hoarsely, and Mirian could see that he¡¯d gotten several cuts into his armor. Cediri was bleeding profusely on one arm. Beatrice quickly got out a linen bandage roll from her belt and wrapped it. They started to move again, boots crunching as they did. It was incredibly gross, like walking across a floor of dead cockroaches.

    The next room only had a few horrors, these ones covered in things that could have been tentacles or vines, except whatever they were, they had too many eyeballs on them. They were clinging to the wall, doing something to the fungus, and then they turned and started spraying out a mist.

    ¡°Poison¡ª!¡± Beatrice called out, fumbling for her spellbook as she raised the collar of her jacket to try and cover her mouth.

    Mirian swapped to her gather smoke spell. The spell didn¡¯t actually target the specific chemistry of smoke, which was diverse, but instead targeted particles of a certain size, and would take care of the cloud of poison spores just as well. ¡°Got the poison. Someone kill them,¡± she said.

    Cediri used his fire blades to cut them apart one by one, while Mirian repeated her casts of gather smoke to make sure she¡¯d gotten all of the noxious stuff out of the air.

    ¡°Keep moving!¡± Grimald called as he led them down the hall. ¡°One more room¡ª¡± He cut himself off. Mirian repositioned her light spell to get a better look. Circling about in the last room was another labyrinthine horror, but far larger than any of the others. Its abdomen was the size of a bull, with ten thick legs protruding from gaps in its carapace, while the upper body resembled the torso and head of a human. Only, no human had so many tendrils coming out of their back. The thin tendrils whipped around like a jellyfish¡¯s stingers, and judging by the prickly looking protrusions on them, would be just as deadly. As Grimald paused, the creature whipped its head around and stared at them, though its face didn¡¯t seem to have any eyes. Instead, the eyes were all embedded in the chest¡ªdozens of them.

    ¡°Greater horror,¡± Cediri whispered.

    ¡°Aegis,¡± Grimald said, and Cediri obliged.

    ¡°Niluri, guard our rear,¡± Beatrice said, and they prepared to fight.

 Chapter 98 - The Greater Labyrinthine Horror

    Turning her back on the greater horror took effort. It was large and vicious, and her mind could picture all sorts of ways it could mutilate her. When she heard its horrible hissing scream, it took a lot of effort not to turn to face it again. She just had to trust that the team would handle it. Professor Viridian had never mentioned them in his class, so she wasn¡¯t at all sure how to go about even fighting one. Beatrice, Grimald and Cediri were the experts; she¡¯d make sure their backs were covered.

    The labyrinthine horrors coming from behind had thinned out, though. Mirian was finding it easy to pick them off; unlike human opponents, they didn¡¯t try to take cover, and they certainly weren¡¯t shooting back with spells or firearms. She kept glancing back to see how the battle behind her was going.

    Grimald was swinging his warhammer around, but the greater horror was keeping its distance and only attacking with its spined tendrils. He was trying to strike moving whips, and so his hammer kept hitting air, and Cediri¡¯s force aegis spell was taking a beating. The venom coating the tendrils seemed to be eroding the spell, causing cracks of light to appear on what should have been a barrier of pure force.

    The tendrils of the beast were glowing, too. Mirian realized she was witnessing what Arenthia had termed ¡®soul redistribution,¡¯ something she knew Akanan auramancers did, but that she hadn¡¯t realized myrvites could do. That meant the beast knew it was fighting arcane magic, and was using a trick of soul resistance to cut into their spells. Beatrice was sending out rays of fire, but the greater horror didn¡¯t even seem to notice as the beams scored its carapace.

    Mirian finished incinerating three more lesser horrors. No more came through the door.

    She turned again to see how the others were doing. Grimald was breathing hard, sweat drenching his brow. Cediri¡¯s shield was cracking apart, and the mage was struggling to hold it.

    The creature must have sensed the weakness, because it charged forward, body slamming into Grimald so that he was flung back like a doll. Cediri¡¯s aegis shattered and he let out a yelp, clutching his head and stumbling backward, trying to recover from the shock of having a spell broken.

    Beatrice let out a blade wall spell, trying to force the beast back and cut the tendrils, but the writhing whips intensified their glow as the force blades failed to cut them.

    Then those tendrils descended on Beatrice, coiling around her right leg and torso, snatching her up into the air. Beatrice didn¡¯t scream, she just tried to let off another spell, but if the venom could crack open spells, it was probably stripping her aura bare, so nothing happened.

    Then the eyeball-encrusted torso of the beast cracked open down the middle, revealing rows and rows of spiny teeth.

    A jolt of fear ran through Mirian, and it overwhelmed her. The rational part of her brain knew this wouldn¡¯t be permanent, that even if the greater horror ate Beatrice, she¡¯d see her again, but the instinctual part just saw her best friend¡¯s sister about to go to her gruesome death. Suddenly, her entire body was suffused with single-minded purpose. She didn¡¯t even remember turning to her greater lightning page, didn¡¯t remember thinking about the shaper glyphs or the intensify enhancement glyphs, and didn¡¯t remember ending her light spell so that she could draw more mana. She didn¡¯t remember moving past a stunned Grimald and Cediri as she stepped right up to the labyrinthine horror. She only knew that she was screaming ¡°Beatrice!¡± and channeling every ounce of mana she had into her spell.

    The lightning bolt erupted from her raised hand like a solid cylinder of electricity, roaring through the air so that it eclipsed every other sound. The shadows on the wall danced madly with its light as it slammed directly into the spiny mouth of the beast.

    The horror reared back, tendrils suddenly flailing in all directions, falling back onto its rear legs. Maybe it screamed, but she would have never heard it. Maybe it tried to close its mouth, but was paralyzed by the electricity. For Mirian, there was just her, the spell, and the target. She could feel it concentrating its spell resistance in its torso now. She fed more mana into the intensify runes, and felt her aura sweeping around her like a whirlpool as it sped into her spellbook, then out her hand.

    The beast stumbled back, letting go of Beatrice so that she crumpled to the ground. Mirian walked forward as the beast retreated, keeping the beam of lightning steady on it.

    Then was a ripping sound as carapace all over its abdomen split apart, erupting with flames. Some sort of black tarry substance gushed out of it, and this time she did hear the beast scream, but she shouted right back at it. Then it shuddered once more and collapsed onto the ground, body hissing as smoke coiled around it, then was still.

    Mirian let the spell go, then gasped for breath. Her whole body was trembling with adrenaline.

    She turned, and saw that all three of her companions were lying on the ground staring at her.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Beatrice finally said. ¡°How do you know me?¡±

    Mirian looked at her and felt a pang of sorrow. There was no hiding that she did know Beatrice, the way she¡¯d shouted her name. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you. For both our sakes. I need to know Frostland¡¯s Gate is safe, first.¡±

    Cediri let out a hysterical laugh. ¡°Safe? What in the five hells do you mean? And if you can do that¡ª!¡±

    Grimald muttered, ¡°Pull yourself together.¡± He stood and started dusting himself off.

    ¡°I mean safe from Akanan spies. Safe from Deeps agents. Safe from impostors and corrupt officials who might be lurking in the shadows. I can¡¯t hide that I¡¯m not who I seem, but I¡¯d ask that you keep my secret.¡±

    Beatrice stared at her. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°Torrviol is currently infested with dozens of Akanan spies, and a turncoat Deeps agent who killed her cell. The guards have all been bribed. Whatever conspiracy they¡¯re part of extends through Cairnmouth all the way to Palendurio¡ªat least¡ªand across the Rift Sea to Akana. I need to make sure that conspiracy isn¡¯t here, too, or someone¡­ might come hunting for me.¡±

    ¡°Lily¡ª!¡± Beatrice started, but Mirian said, ¡°This doesn¡¯t end until your sister¡¯s safe. I¡¯ve already promised that.¡± Which was true, but not in the way they thought. ¡°Have you heard of a man going by the name ¡®Sulvorath¡¯? Perhaps promising gold for information?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Grimald, then Cediri echoed the same answer.

    ¡°If you do, let me know, and I¡¯ll beat whatever his price is for information. The same is true for any of the royal agencies. They can¡¯t be trusted. They¡¯re being manipulated.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡± Beatrice asked. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±

    ¡°An¡­ impending disaster. I¡¯m trying to stop it. Save as many lives as I can. But I need more information.¡±

    ¡°On the leylines?¡±

    ¡°That, and the Labyrinth. The problem isn¡¯t going to be solved by our current understanding of magic. I need to break new ground. So as I said in the tavern, I¡¯d appreciate any help you can give me.¡± She sighed. ¡°Let¡¯s keep heading to the surface. I can¡¯t manage that again if there¡¯s another one of those things down here.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s get out of here. That was way too close a call,¡± Cediri said. ¡°I just want quick samples of the greater horror. If we leave it here, it¡¯ll be gone by the time anyone returns. Elsadorra will buy them if no one else does.¡±

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    ¡°Those tendrils sapped most of my mana,¡± Beatrice admitted.

    ¡°Then let¡¯s go,¡± Grimald said.

    Mirian helped Cediri load up two vials with the black ichor, then stuffed one of the packs with other pieces of it. Then they left.

    ***

    It was Cediri who found her the next day, after they¡¯d made it back to the surface and had time to rest. She was in her room when he knocked. ¡°May I come in?¡± he asked. ¡°Business proposition. Wow, you¡¯ve really warded up the place.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Mirian said. Cediri took off his cloak and hung it on a peg by the door. They sat across from each other, a small wooden table between them. She was silent while she waited for his offer.

    Cediri glanced back at her workshop, then said, ¡°Beatrice still doesn¡¯t trust you, but mostly because she doesn¡¯t know what to make of you. I think if you wished us harm, you had the perfect opportunity. And you seem like the type that can keep a secret. So I¡¯m willing to trade for information.¡±

    ¡°Coin?¡±

    ¡°Or things that can be easily translated into coin. Distilled magichemicals. Myrvite parts. I¡¯m not too picky, but I would like to retire in a few years.¡±

    Cediri¡¯s behavior the past few days clicked into place for Mirian. ¡°You¡¯re Ravantha¡¯s contact up here,¡± she said.

    Cediri¡¯s eyes went wide, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish¡¯s for a moment. ¡°I work at the Great Cairn Academy. I need the myrvite parts for the studies, and I get a bonus for good work.¡±

    ¡°And sometimes the parts go missing? Listen, I don¡¯t actually care. She actually recommended I go up here because Numo wants to try his antimagic device, and you¡¯re the best bet the Syndicate has for finding the material that will make it actually work. So that¡¯s two things I want from you. Sounds like you could charge a real premium.¡±

    The man¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°You¡¯re way to blase about money, you know that? Makes a man worry.¡±

    ¡°When you get enough of it, you stop worrying,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Absolutely false. Getting more of it just means you worry more. I once met a business magnate from the Palamas family. All his factories were bringing in record profits, and he has the backing of his uncle, the Gods¡¯ damned King. Yet I¡¯ve never seen a man who fret more about coin. Kept talking about all the people that were coming for him¡ªthe Allards, the legislature, the proles, the Mercanton industrialists, even his aunts¡ªall circling him like vultures.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s stupid,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Sure, but just because it¡¯s stupid doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s not true.¡± He tapped a finger on the table. ¡°First thing¡¯s first. Tradition in Frostland¡¯s Gate is that you always offer tea to guests. Clearly, you don¡¯t have any.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll remember that next time.¡±

    ¡°Second, I can tell you about basically everyone in town, but more importantly, I do watch the soldiers, and I know who can be bribed and who can¡¯t be. And I watch the couriers, and I know the merchants. Since you saved my life, I¡¯m not even going to drive a hard bargain.¡±

    Mirian slid him a gold doubloon. ¡°Tell me everything,¡± she said.

    Cediri gave a short laugh. ¡°Well, you really do know the way to a man¡¯s heart. Let¡¯s begin!¡±

    ***

    Mirian spent her time checking over the information Cediri had given her while the group recovered. Grimald had been cut up badly, and the priest who healed him seemed to have taken from his own soul energy, making him lethargic and tired for three full days. Which seemed stupid to Mirian; she thought about offering to help build the local priest a soul-repository. They certainly butchered enough woolly pigs and yaks that it could stay charged. Or maybe he had one, and just hadn¡¯t bothered to use it, which reeked of incompetence.

    Beatrice had gotten a nasty blow when the greater horror had dropped her, but only took two days to recover after her healing. When questioned about it at the tavern, she just told everyone, ¡°It was a hell of a fight,¡± which scared the crap out of her audience because they knew that she usually liked to joke about her fights the minute they were done.

    Elsadorra was happy to buy the labyrinthine horror pieces they¡¯d brought up, and told them she¡¯d let them know what she discovered. The team was heavily reliant on her as a material science expert.

    Cediri eventually convinced Beatrice to let Mirian take a peek at their research notes. Cediri¡¯s notes were meticulous and organized. Beatrice¡¯s notes were as sloppy and chaotic as Lily¡¯s, which made Mirian smile.

    Mirian managed to telekinetically place her eavesdropping device in several different places. First, inside the Royal Courier¡¯s office, taking advantage of an uncharged ward by the second story window. Then, she moved it to the inside of the soldier¡¯s barracks, which was embarrassingly under-protected, and was immediately disgusted by how many rude sexual jokes they made when they thought no one was listening. All she discovered was at least one soldier having an affair with a local man, which she could have gone without knowing.

    Frostland¡¯s Gate didn¡¯t have a mayor, just a council of elders (which was just the name for them; these days, they were elected, and generally not that old). Spying on them resulted in learning about the incredibly boring minutiae that was involved in running the village. Half of the meeting time seemed to be taken up by herders arguing about yak grazing rights, made worse by the property lines being constantly in dispute due to snowstorms covering all markings. Another meeting involved reviewing the year¡¯s budget, which nearly put Mirian to sleep as she listened to it.

    She spent another night watching for suspicious movement around town, then the next day scanning for magical anomalies or suspicious warding systems. By the end of the 19th of Solem, she¡¯d taken notes on every building in town (there just weren¡¯t that many of them) and was fairly sure Cediri had been honest with her.

    By then, they¡¯d started planning their next expedition into the Labyrinth. Aelius¡¯s team, the other one trying to investigate the Vault, had just returned reporting minimal encounters with myrvites on the second level and had expanded Cediri¡¯s map.

    Though it seemed Frostland¡¯s Gate was safe, she wasn¡¯t going to take any chances until she¡¯d brought a focus up to check the town for soul magic. The prospect of that seemed daunting, though. She¡¯d have to go down to Cairnmouth, then back up to Frostland¡¯s Gate, taking her right through Torrviol.

    ¡°We should do a sweep of the second level around the area,¡± Cediri said. ¡°Finish mapping. That way we¡¯re sure there¡¯s no ambushes by another horde lying in wait. Go room by room, here and here. And take samples. Niluri detected a spike in arcane energy before the incursion. One of those side rooms might have some answers. Like where the labyrinthine horrors come from, or where they go when they die.¡±

    This was his ploy for increasing the chances they¡¯d find an antimagic room for Mirian. The Syndicate would also be paying him a finder¡¯s fee, though Mirian doubted it would make it up to them by the time the apocalypse came.

    ¡°A sweep would take too much time,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°We still need more data on the vault. Our funding gets cut for sure if what we have is all we can show.¡±

    ¡°Maybe we can get better data by putting our devices on the outside,¡± Cediri said. ¡°You know? Surround the thing with detectors.¡±

    ¡°Sure, and lose them all to the next shift in the Labyrinth,¡± Grimald said.

    ¡°Better than losing them to Scrappy again,¡± Cediri replied.

    The team sat around the table in silence. Mirian didn¡¯t particularly care what they did, as long as they went down there again. ¡°You¡¯ve tried x-ray and soundwaves to map passages from outside the level, I assume?¡±

    Cediri sighed. ¡°Yup. The outer layers of the Labyrinth block any attempts at divination. That elevator shaft leading to the Labyrinth? Drilled to try and access that outer wall and study it. But the Labyrinth moved out from under the drill hole.¡±

    She¡¯d always thought of the Labyrinth as a random thing, but that struck Mirian as suspiciously intelligent. Funnily enough, she did know what the outer layers of the Labyrinth looked like. She¡¯d seen the otherworldly material when part of the structure was dislodged by a leyline eruption. If she did need to study it, she could always return to that doomed train.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°Cediri¡¯s plan. Put the devices on the second floor, but retrieve them after five days. I know,¡± she said, raising her hand to stop Grimald¡¯s objection, ¡°it¡¯s not enough data, and we¡¯ll have too much ambient noise to sort through, but it¡¯s the best we can do. We don¡¯t have the materials to make new devices, so we can¡¯t lose them in a shift.¡±

    Grimald made a noncommittal grunt. Both his teammates looked at him. Cediri raised an eyebrow. Beatrice waggled both her eyebrows. ¡°Oh alright!¡± Grimald said. ¡°I want one right by the door to the Vault, though. I still want to know if Scrappy is patrolling randomly or in some sort of pattern.¡±

    They started mapping out where they planned to leave devices and where they¡¯d like Mirian and Cediri take samples.

    That was when they heard a bell ringing in the distance.

    It took Mirian a moment to remember what that meant. Then more bells joined in, clanging with incessant urgency.

    Grimald stood so fast he knocked his chair over, and reached for his warhammer. ¡°Myrvite incursion,¡± he said.

    ¡°This early in the season?¡± Cediri complained.

    Beatrice was already on her feet too. ¡°Grab your spellbook and let¡¯s go.¡± To the tavern, she shouted, ¡°To arms! Prepare to defend Frostland¡¯s Gate!¡±

 Chapter 99 - Incursion

    Mirian ran out the door after Grimald and Beatrice, with Cediri trailing behind her. The evening was darkened by clouds streaming across the sky, but already, Frostland¡¯s Gate was dotted with magical lights floating in the air. Echoing from near the spellward across the drifts of snow, Mirian could already hear the sounds of combat. She had to check herself so she didn¡¯t start shouting out orders.

    As they moved to the north of the village, anyone who couldn¡¯t fight was barring the doors and closing the heavy shutters on the windows. There was a bellowing sound from the yaks as the herd started pushing around, trying to build up steam for a stampede.

    The glowing light orbs illuminating the battlefield also cast long shadows across town. The deep BRRRONG! of the alarm bells continued, echoing off the hills.

    By the time they got to the battle line, the northern fields were already lost. A few dozen soldiers and townsfolk had established defensive barricades across the streets. At first, Mirian couldn¡¯t understand what she was seeing, because the snow across the northern fields was trembling and moving about. Then she realized that she was looking at a swarm of frost scarabites that should have been impossible. Mixed in with them were frost drakes, ice wyrms, scimitar lions, and bastion elk. Half of them were supposed to eat the other half; they certainly weren¡¯t supposed to move together.

    ¡°There must be hundreds of them,¡± Cediri said. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡±

    Mirian had. Just before the apocalypse, myrvites in the scrublands swarmed northwest. ¡°Look north. On the horizon.¡±

    Between the Endelice Mountains and the low clouds, there was a stream of otherworldly light, pink and green and sometimes orange, moving into the sky.

    ¡°They¡¯re not trying to attack,¡± Mirian said. ¡°They¡¯re trying to run. If we let them go around us, they will. We need to form a wedge.¡± Even as she said it, though, she could see that reorganizing the line would be next to impossible. Frostland¡¯s Gate was in a narrow valley, and the mountains on either side were funneling the myrvites right into town. ¡°Flanks,¡± she said. ¡°Let¡¯s move to the western flank! We need to put up force shields!¡±

    It was too late. Grimald had already moved to the front, and was smashing any myrvite trying to push past the defenders, and Beatrice was busy raining down flame arrows on the swarm of frost scarabites trying to push into the streets.

    Mirian shook her head, then joined the fray. It was a stupid defense, but what was she going to do? Let them all perish in front of her? She flipped to burning electric force blades in her spellbook, more because she wanted to practice tri-energy spellcasting than any specific need for the spell. She tried to target a line of myrvites, creating a pile of corpses so that the stampede would find it easier to funnel westward, around the town.

    The strategy sort of worked, mostly by accident. With myrvites piling up by the barricades, the vast majority of them were moving to the sides. There was the kriishh! of shattering glass as a bastion elk rammed a greenhouse with its magical antlers, its force shockwave sending the shards flying forward.

    There was screaming, roaring, smashing, and trampling everywhere. It was absolute chaos. Mirian realized there was another strategy they could have used: simply hide in the houses and let the myrvites pass through the streets, with guards in front of the yak herds and greenhouses to keep those safe. None of these myrvites were going to try to take down a stone house. They just wanted out. If Professor Viridian was here, he¡¯d be shaking his head, Mirian thought.

    Still, she tried to save as many lives as she could, and soon enough, one of those lives was her own as another bastion elk leapt over a pile of scarabite corpses right into the front line, the shockwave sending Grimald and two other defenders sprawling. Mirian pressed herself up against the wall of a house, then raised a force shield. The great mass of the elk smashed into her shield as it squeezed past, pushing her against the wall, but not crushing her like it would have without the barrier.

    She let the elk go, then turned her attention to the mass of scarabites following it, using careful incineration rays to pierce the ones that were trampling Grimald and the others, keeping them pinned. Then she put up a force wall, trying to give it an angle so that the beasts went around.

    While she did that, Cediri and Beatrice helped Grimald to his feet.

    ¡°We should fall back,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Are you crazy?¡± Beatrice said. ¡°We need to fight!¡±

    Mirian understood. Right now, all everyone could see was the same myrvites they¡¯d been fighting the whole time they¡¯d lived here, and it felt like a fight for survival. They weren¡¯t thinking about animal instincts, and the distant energy eruption to the north was just that¡ªtoo far away to think about when there were a dozen myrvites trying to break into Frostland¡¯s Gate now.

    She kept fighting. For two hours, myrvites kept streaming by, sometimes in groups, sometimes stragglers. After that, there was a push forward to repair the spellward, and so Mirian found herself scribing and repairing glyphs while an exhausted Beatrice kept watch for attacks.

    Then, there was still no rest, as the entirety of Frostland¡¯s Gate braved the plummeting temperatures to search for survivors. Again, Mirian wished she had a focus, because detect human soul worked so much better than detect animal heat. Any injured people were tucked among the still-cooling myrvite corpses piled everywhere.

    And again, she didn¡¯t even have a focus to heal any of them. When she saw the local priest, he didn¡¯t have a censer, the usual device that contained a soul repository, meaning he would be using injured victims¡¯ own soul energy to heal them. Wounded townsfolk, already weakened by hours of enduring the frigid cold while they waited for aid, would surely perish.

    Mirian helped where she could, wrapping wounds and searching for survivors, until midnight winds screaming through the village forced everyone indoors; there were too few arcanists who could even cast a warmth spell.

    It would be like this everywhere, she was beginning to understand. Eruptions, all across the land. Myrvite stampedes and broken spellwards. An irresistible pressure, bending civilization towards collapse.

    First, slowly.

    Then, all at once.

    In the battle in the Labyrinth (right up until the greater horror appeared) and this battle, Mirian had found herself feeling distant from it all. For everyone else, there was the immediate need for survival. For her, she could step back and see the shape of things. Of course, she had information they could simply never know, and it wasn¡¯t their fault, but it was deeply alienating. More and more, she felt apart from the world.

    She missed lying in bed with Nicolus. She missed holding hands with Selesia, so many years ago. She missed being able to have a conversation with Lily¡ªa real one, where she didn¡¯t already know what the outcome would be. She even missed Valen, strange and prickly as she was. She missed her family, especially her little brother. But now, more than ever, she couldn¡¯t look for them, since that might lead the other time traveler to her new identity.

    Instead, she was doomed to be a stranger wherever she went. She would stand for them. But who will stand for me?

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    Mirian had to remind herself it¡¯ll be worth it in the end. That was what she had, and she clung to it.

    ***

    While Frostland¡¯s Gate collectively tried to regain its feet, Mirian tried to take measurements of the anomaly north of them. Over the next day, the light to the north faded. Unfortunately, it was too far away for her to get any sort of real reading on the arcane forces involved. The Endelice Mountains were some seventy miles away, and the eruption maybe a dozen miles beyond that.

    Instead, she turned to calculation, deriving the amount of arcane power involved given how much light was emitted. It involved a lot of estimation since the reference books she really needed were in Torrviol, but she came up with a reasonable number. That number, in turn, was so large as to be meaningless. An archmage like Medius Luspire could reach spellpower of just over 100 myr. The eruption, pouring that much energy out of the ground for days, reached something like 10,000 myr. The number was even more absurd because ¡®myr¡¯ as a magical unit didn¡¯t scale linearly.

    Still, what else was she to do but try and stop it? I¡¯ll find something, she reassured herself. Or else why would the Ominian have even bothered?

    She stopped by Elsadorra¡¯s shop to see what she¡¯d found about the greater labyrinthine horror.

    ¡°Similar composition to the lesser horrors I¡¯ve seen,¡± she said when Mirian asked. ¡°I still have similar questions. Normal myrvite biopsies reveal elevated arcane energy levels just after death as it dissipates into the ambient. Labyrinthine horrors have lower than background level arcane energy levels. I still see no signs of any organs of a digestive system. At least, not one I can recognize. A baffling problem. I would very much like a live specimen.¡±

    No digestive system? ¡°People have noticed that before, I assume. But how do they¡­ move? And why would they try to eat us then?¡±

    ¡°Research speculates they eat arcane energy and convert it directly to kinetic energy to move. Perhaps they only consume the auric mana of their victims. Or perhaps their soul. They would still need some sort of organ system for this, presumably. ¡±

    Mirian had no idea what to make of that. ¡°Do they have anything resembling an arcane catalyst, like other myrvites? Or a material that distills down to a known magichemical?¡±

    ¡°That would be too easy,¡± Elsadorra said. ¡°They are primarily muscular tissue, pseudobone, and carapace. One researcher suggested these thin strands are nerve tissue.¡± She used a gloved hand to hold up a thin, wet looking string. ¡°I am skeptical. I have had fresh samples, and it does not respond to common stimuli. Are you satisfied?¡±

    ¡°Not at all,¡± Mirian responded.

    ¡°Good,¡± Elsadorra said. And then, ¡°Goodbye.¡± That seemed to be how she liked to end all conversations.

    ***

    They were finally planning¡ªagain¡ªa return to the Labyrinth, when Aelius came into the End of Civilization and walked up to their table. ¡°It¡¯s shifted,¡± he said, without introduction.

    ¡°What?¡± Beatrice said. ¡°It just shifted near the start of the month. It just shifted. It shouldn¡¯t be shifting again for a few months!¡±

    Aelius shrugged. ¡°Didn¡¯t expect it either. But we went down, and the first level has nasties running about again. We did some remapping, found the entrance to the second level, then withdrew. Here¡¯s your copy of the first floor,¡± he said, setting a rolled up scroll down on the table.

    Beatrice made a disgusted face at the map they¡¯d just finished planning routes and sample sites at, then crumpled it up and used raw fire magic to burn it. Then she sat back in her chair, closed her eyes, and sighed loudly. ¡°Gods¡¯ dammit.¡±

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t strictly necessary. Could have used the back of that paper,¡± Cediri said.

    ¡°No you couldn¡¯t, because I set it on fire,¡± Beatrice said.

    It was Cediri¡¯s turn to sigh.

    ***

    They finally made it down to the Labyrinth two days later. By now, it was the 23rd of Solem, and Mirian was annoyed at just how little time they¡¯d actually spent exploring the Labyrinth. Rationally, she knew it made sense¡ªno one but her was getting any second chances here¡ªbut she had so much to accomplish, and was getting impatient. She¡¯d spent the previous day on myrvite patrol just to do something, though predictably, they didn¡¯t find any.

    It was interesting to see the place after the shift. The entrance was the same; everything else was different. The hieroglyphs that had looked so ancient and immutable were rearranged. The passages that had looked so sturdy and unchanging were different sizes, and had different halls leading to and from them. Even the design of the rooms was different, with pipes in new places and the stone strange new colors. Geology class was a long time ago at this point, but she was fairly certain the stone floor was made of none of the common minerals they¡¯d covered in class.

    Mirian had rebuilt a simplified divination device and brought along a diamond-tipped drill. When they got to the second level, she used the drill to extract samples wherever she found high magical energy readings or clusters of tiny glyphs. Soon enough, her pack was full of stone-chunks, and heavy enough she wasn¡¯t going to add to it.

    Cediri continued to meticulously map every passage, though Beatrice had him beat for ¡®high strung.¡¯ Every strange sound they heard had her whipping around to investigate. Here and there, labyrinthine horrors attempted an ambush from behind darklamps, but nothing like that first time.

    They also found an ice wyrm, though it wasn¡¯t doing very well. It seemed to be dying, as it would sporadically writhe about on the ground, its crystalline scales making a horrible screeching sound when it did.

    Two rooms later, Cediri let out a ¡°whoop!¡± and sent out a quick force grab spell, followed by electric hand. ¡°Ghostling,¡± he said, holding up the now dead translucent myrvite to the group. It was like the labyrinthine horrors in shape, but it clearly had some sort of strange organ system, visible right through its body. It was like nothing Mirian had ever seen. ¡°Only found down here. Rare as hell. That cluster of rainbow-y looking matter below the thorax¡ªit distills into a magichemical we still don¡¯t understand yet. No clue what glyphs require it. Some wizards at the academy are going to be very happy with us,¡± he said, grinning.

    Then, when the rest of the group was turned, he gave Mirian a meaningful glance that said, don¡¯t mess this up for me.

    She couldn¡¯t help but smile. He¡¯s going to sell it, she thought, and winked at him. That was interesting, though. Magichemicals that had no glyph? She wondered if it was connected to the runes instead, even though scribing runes usually required soul energy.

    ¡°Next room looks clear,¡± Grimald said, peering into it.

    They stepped forward, then suddenly Mirian felt her mana being sapped. It was like a scouring wind was blowing it away¡ªshe could feel some force tearing at her aura.

    Beatrice blanched. ¡°Back. Back! Entropic room.¡± The three arcanists all piled back into the hallway, scrambling backwards.

    Grimald joined them, standing at the threshold. ¡°Well?¡±

    ¡°If it was just a suppression room, I¡¯d say we go. But that¡¯s not a normal antimagic room, that shit was stripping our auras,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°It was stripping yours too, Grimald, you just didn¡¯t know it. And when it¡¯s done stripping your aura, it starts tearing at your soul.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Grimald, eyes getting wide.

    Mirian peered into the room, curious. ¡°What¡¯s causing it?¡±

    Cediri let out a barking laugh. ¡°Who knows! Good luck finding out, too. It¡¯ll strip any form of mana that goes in there, so divination is equally useless. We¡¯re just lucky a door didn¡¯t close behind us, which is what we¡¯re pretty sure will happen if you go far enough in the vault we¡¯re investigating. That¡¯s probably what killed all the archmagi that one time. That, and probably an automaton. Sometimes they¡¯re hiding in the walls.¡±

    ¡°The Elder automatons can function in an entropic field? So it doesn¡¯t strip glyphs?¡±

    ¡°No, just all mana. They become as dead as black ink while they¡¯re in there. People just become dead. Only takes a few minutes. I don¡¯t know that anyone¡¯s figured out how you¡¯re supposed to get by one of those things if there¡¯s a locked door on the other end. By all rights the automatons shouldn¡¯t work either, but they do.¡±

    Mirian closed her eyes, focusing on her aura. ¡°I lost half my mana from that.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, at least,¡± Cediri said. ¡°Beatrice?¡±

    ¡°A little more than half. I say we go back.¡±

    ¡°Seconded. Damn. Well, we got the ghostling and Niluri¡¯s samples.¡±

    Beatrice shook her head as they trudged back for the stairwell back to the first level. ¡°The Academy is absolutely going to cut our funding,¡± she said.

    When they reached the surface, Mirian bought the ghostling off Cediri so she could experiment with it later. Then she spent a good chunk more money, this time getting precision measurement equipment and the best magnifying lenses she could find. She got to work analyzing the glyph sequences she¡¯d brought back, eager to learn what kinds of secrets they held.

 Chapter 100 - Agent of Chaos

    The first thing Mirian thought, looking at the Labyrinth glyph sequences she¡¯d brought back, was that the sequences were impossible. Glyphs had to be in a specific order for mana to flow properly. An ulic glyph could never precede a flen glyph, for example. Yet here was an example of just that.

    She discovered how it was possible by grinding away the first layer of glyphs, only to expose a second layer. That led to another impossible sequence. Scribbling down notes, the only thing she could think of was that the glyphs weren¡¯t linked in a linear sequence, but in multiple co-dependent linkages.

    She thought back to Professor Eld¡¯s enchantment lectures. Maybe if the glyphs were all scribed at the same time¡­ and these glyphs from the Labyrinth are so minuscule. You¡¯d need precision equipment, and something mechanical. Plus you¡¯d need to be in contact with all three arcane catalysts, then channel the mana evenly.

    Maybe the wizards in Torrian Tower were working on something like that. She¡¯d have to check if she ever got back there.

    She also found two glyphs she didn¡¯t recognize, which was impressive, because at this point she¡¯d memorized several reference manuals. Elsadorra, Beatrice, and Cediri also didn¡¯t recognize them, which gave Mirian some consolation.

    ¡°The Academy will be happy about that, yeah?¡± she said to Beatrice.

    ¡°Maybe if we delivered the magichemical composition too. But we don¡¯t have anything that could do that with such a small sample size.¡± She sighed. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s beyond us. The Elder Gods can do things humans will never be able to do. Maybe this is one of them. Maybe humans are reaching their limits of understanding.¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t think so, but then again, she¡¯d also gone from having trouble lifting up an empty desk to being able to stop bullets and kill greater horrors in only a few years. And she also saw how much work there still was to do in finding the connections between soul magic and arcane magic.

    Perhaps there were limits, but she hadn¡¯t hit them yet.

    The entropic antimagic field had given her pause, though. It sapped arcane energy so fast, no spell could form under its influence. But maybe soul magic can. Not that there were any soul magic spells that could batter down a stone door. Soul magic was powerful, but it seemed to be primarily limited to influencing living things.

    Soon enough, the magical auroras took over the sky, and the people of Frostland¡¯s Gate looked on with horror as a leyline split open the Endelice Mountains. As the sound thundered across the mountains, and the flashing light illuminated the whole sky, Mirian found herself holding Beatrice.

    ¡°You said you were studying this. What¡¯s happening?¡± Lily¡¯s sister said between sobs.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Mirian murmured to her. ¡°I¡¯ll stop it. I just need more time.¡±

    The end of the world came again.

    ***

    Mirian started the next cycle with a new plan. She started by grabbing the first spy off the roof, but she didn¡¯t let him fall. Instead, she placed him gently on the ground. The kind of spellpower needed to do that was no problem for her now. ¡°That was close! Are you okay?¡± she said loudly in Friian, then quietly in Eskanar, she said, ¡°There¡¯s another group attempting to infiltrate Torrviol and screw up our plans. The leader might be going by the name Sulvorath, or he might be going by a new name. Either way, he¡¯ll have access to information that might seem impossible. But you can¡¯t trust him, and we can no longer trust Specter.¡±

    The spy looked at Mirian like she¡¯d just grown a second head.

    ¡°Anyways, I have to get to class!¡± she said in Friian, though she didn¡¯t go to class. Instead, she went to craft a greater lightning wand. When she was done (a bewildered Ingrid had looked on, not quite sure how she¡¯d made anything that fast), she headed for the Bainrose library. When no one was looking, she used raw magic to manipulate the secret passage switch that led to the catacombs, shutting the door behind her.

    As usual, the bog lion was waiting. She unleashed the greater lightning on it until it stopped moving. Then she grabbed the wand of levitation. Next, she checked the skeleton. Disappointingly, Specter hadn¡¯t left any scraps of orichalcum.

    She came back through the library, wondering if there was any way she could kill Specter in two days. Sulvorath was relying on her, but she still didn¡¯t have a good idea of where she hid. Somewhere in the Underground, she knew. A passage she hadn¡¯t discovered?

    There was that hole in the wall that led to a lower level. Only, I never went down there because I didn¡¯t think I could get back out. Maybe¡ª

    And then she froze. Down that hole and down the ruined corridor, there was that statue of Altrukyst, and the object it had. A talisman. A spell resistant talisman. Surrounded by bronze-looking disks.

    Mirian hurried to Griffin Hall.

    The lecture hall was open, because there was a lecture in progress. It was one of the professors she¡¯d never had, and she couldn¡¯t place his name. He was midway through a 200-level magichemical foundations lecture.

    He stopped mid-sentence, noticing Mirian approaching the front of the hall. ¡°I believe you have the wrong room,¡± he said sternly.

    ¡°Nope. Apologies,¡± Mirian said, and pressed the brick that opened the secret passage.

    ¡°What in the¡ªwait¡ªis that¡ªwhat?¡± the professor said, and behind him, the class went into an uproar.

    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    Mirian ducked inside, slamming the secret door shut behind her, then hurried off before they figured out what brick she¡¯d pressed.

    It had been a while since she¡¯d been in this part of the underground, but she¡¯d spent months and months mapping it, looking at maps of it, then leading battles through it, so she knew it about as well as she knew anything in Torrviol. She quickly found the hole in the wall, and jumped down into the corridor.

    Mirian approached the statue with giddy anticipation. Probing it with arcane energy, she confirmed both the talisman and the disks of metal around the black marble orbs were spell resistant. At the base of the statue were carved out indentations. Perhaps long ago, protective glyphs had been there, but without any sort of mana recharge, the magichemicals had decayed back into mundane material. Mirian reached out and grabbed the talisman.

    It was silver sometimes, a more muted gray others, and thin veins of pale and dark green minerals ran through it. Holding it, she closed her eyes.

    She saw her soul, and experimentally tried pushing at one of its currents. Sure enough, the flow stirred. A focus, she thought triumphantly. And next to it, two disks of what she was sure now was orichalcum.

    All this time. I wonder who left it here, and how long it¡¯s been down here?

    The passage kept going. Maybe there were deeper secrets still in the underground left for her to find. This wasn¡¯t the right cycle for that, though.

    She slid the disk into her inner jacket pockets, then tried touching her soul to them. There was a vibration¡ªit was like a pebble making ripples in a lake. She tried matching the vibration, but there was some sort of dissonance. It would be impossible to change her own soul current sufficiently. I¡¯ll need soul energy to change the orichalcum¡¯s resonance, she knew. Probably myrvite energy, that would be more potent.

    If that was the case, she¡¯d need to hurry. The second spy was about to go kill all the myrvites in the Studies building.

    Mirian levitated her way back out the passage, deciding to take a different exit. She came out near the theater, then quickly walked to Myrvite Studies. She didn¡¯t have the glyph keys, but there was a reason levitation spells were banned. The building was built out of the shell of the old arena, and there was nothing stopping her from just landing in the middle of the myrvite pens where the old arena floor had once been. She rose up, flying over the outer building, then landed next to some lesser wyverns, who sniffed at her from behind their bars. One made a chattering sound, and another eyed her curiously.

    ¡°Sorry little buddy,¡± she said, picking out a rather dejected looking wyvern. She quickly went through the four bindings she needed, then zapped it with greater lightning.

    It didn¡¯t take much.

    With the soul under her control, she guided it around the orichalcum disks. Then, she had an abundance of energy to manipulate their resonance with. It took a few minutes, but it was surprisingly easy to get them to match the flow of her soul. She could feel the disks slip beneath the currents, like heavy stones settling into a river bed.

    Mirian had triggered at least one alarm ward (hopefully screwing up the second spy¡¯s infiltration), so she flew off again, landing in the middle of the garden, then headed the long way around to the crafting center where she used the metalworking stations to shape the first orichalcum disk into a torc she could wear underneath her coat and the second disk into metal plates that she could bind to her belt.

    By then, she could hear quite the commotion going on in the Academy¡¯s plaza as several guards searched for¡ªsomeone. A flying student, they were pretty sure. By then, though, Mirian¡¯s soul alterations were kicking in, and her face and hair looked different than the student who had just stopped by to make a lightning wand or disrupted a lecture at Griffin Hall.

    She headed back to her dorm room to change out of her school uniform into normal clothes, then headed to the market to stock up on supplies for her journey north. One of the guards stopped her as she was purchasing an enchanted bedroll. ¡°Have you seen¡­I know this is strange¡ªa sixth year student¡­ flying?¡±

    Mirian gave him a look of surprise. ¡°No. Goodness! Isn¡¯t that¡­ illegal?¡±

    ¡°Highly,¡± the guard said with a sigh. ¡°If you do see her, please flag us down. We think she has dark hair, sort of a Persaman complexion. About your height.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± she said, then went back to her transaction.

    She took out a loan with Tower Trust, then purchased the supplies she¡¯d need to make a compact soul repository and a lot more inks. This time, she bought an enchanted cloth she could wrap the inks in so that they¡¯d be protected both from jostling and the freezing temperatures. The next morning, she scribed several spells, then stashed her supplies in the derelict building Nicolus liked to go to when he was feeling contemplative.

    Then she dropped by the guardhouse, using a major disguise spell to make her appear like an older man, with peppered hair and a deeper voice.

    ¡°I need to see Captain Mandez. It¡¯s about the fugitive,¡± she told the desk attendant.

    The desk attendant looked at her. ¡°Ah, let me see if he¡¯s available. He¡¯s very busy, so if you¡¯d have a seat, it might be a bit.¡±

    A minute later, the attendant returned, looking a bit surprised. ¡°He¡¯ll see you now. His office is¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know where it is,¡± Mirian told him. Once inside, she shut the door.

    Mandez was studying her. He glanced at a detection device in his hand. ¡°Nice illusion,¡± he said in Friian. ¡°I¡¯d prefer¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m being sloppy because I¡¯m in a rush,¡± Mirian said in Eskanar. ¡°I already told Gerard about Sulvorath and Specter. The boy nearly fell off a building, jumping around like an idiot, so you¡¯re welcome. I¡¯ll tell you now¡ªSpecter is double-crossing us, and her new master that will arrive soon¡ªyou can¡¯t trust him. He¡¯s going to know far more information than he should, and he¡¯s a master manipulator. But you are authorized to kill him. And her, if you can manage it.¡±

    Mandez recoiled slightly, which was the most shaken she¡¯d seen him. ¡°I need a code-phrase,¡± he said carefully.

    ¡°Specter¡¯s been relaying the code phrases here, hasn¡¯t she? That¡¯s what I thought. They¡¯re all junk. They¡¯re compromised. Look, the network penetration is worse than you can know. We¡¯re dealing with rogue cells from Vadriach to Palendurio. I just need you to make sure this cell doesn¡¯t join them. Can you do that for me, Mr. Hache?¡±

    Mandez¡ªreal name Hache¡ªgave Mirian a long stare. ¡°Yes, sir,¡± he said.

    ¡°Good,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Good. I knew we could count on you. I have other cells to go un-fuck. Remember¡ªthis Sulvorath, or whatever name he¡¯s going by¡ªis going to be very convincing. Take him down, then wait for a proper reestablishment of protocols. Keep to God and country, Mr. Hache. God and country. ¡±

    As she rose and turned her back, she felt a tentative magical probe from Hache, but the orichalcum stopped whatever he was trying to find out. She left, and after she was out of his office, ducked down an alley and let the disguise drop. Back on the street, two guards immediately passed her, but didn¡¯t seem to suspect she was the one who¡¯d just been in his office. Mirian headed back to the old building by the lake to pick up her supplies.

    Using her focus (and killing a small snake nearby for the soul energy), she cast detect human to make sure she wasn¡¯t being followed.

    When there were no indications of any human-sized soul nearby, she was confident she was in the clear.

    Once again, she took the overgrown trail around the lake, then headed north on the trail, setting a quick pace. She planned to make it to the first obelisk by nightfall.

 Chapter 101 - Return to Frostlandéˆ¥æªš Gate

    The levitation wand made the long trek to Frostland¡¯s Gate much more bearable. Being able to simply fly up the steepest part of the pass saved her a great deal of soreness and an entire day of travel. She was careful not to use it too much, though, lest she get ambushed by myrvites while she was low on mana.

    This time, she passed the other traveler an entire obelisk earlier, missing the snowstorm as it hit the pass. The glaciavore was nowhere to be found, which was nice, but it also meant Mirian would have much less money to throw around. With the levitation wand, though, she made it to the village an entire day earlier.

    Unfortunately, she wouldn¡¯t be able to afford the fancier rooms at the Kivinotsuur yet, so she took a free room. She got her own bed, glyph lamp and washing basin to herself, but it connected to a central shared living space that she¡¯d be sharing with up to six other people, though only three of the rooms were actually occupied. Instead of her own hearth stone, there was one in the main area, and a few tables and shelves that anyone could use. Theft was not a great concern in Frostland¡¯s Gate because, well, it was a very small village. Even divination wards wouldn¡¯t do much to hide a stolen item, because one could easily find a warded chest by scanning for areas divination wouldn¡¯t work and using process of elimination.

    Mirian used specific anti-divination wards that would block anyone using arcane magic to look for a focus or orichalcum, hiding the glyphs beneath her bed.

    Next, she began moving around the village, her celestial focus from the underground pressed up against her chest, checking the souls of everyone she passed. Gradually, she made her way to the End of Civilization and took a seat at one of the tables. She took out her ink set and began to scribe the spells she¡¯d want again in the Labyrinth, glancing up every so often to scan the souls of anyone new who walked into the establishment.

    So far, there were no soul marks, and no other anomalies.

    Working with Beatrice hadn¡¯t actually been any fun last cycle, so this time, Mirian changed tactics and sought out the other group that was researching the vault, the one led by Aelius. Unlike the Academy¡¯s expedition, Aelius didn¡¯t ever visit the taverns unless it was to deliver a short message. Instead, he kept to himself in a top floor apartment near the edge of town that looked out on the Endelice.

    Mirian went to visit him.

    ¡°My name¡¯s Niluri. I¡¯ve heard your team is delving the Labyrinth. Are you looking for more assistance?¡± she asked.

    Aelius looked her over. ¡°Come inside so we don¡¯t let all the cold air in. Would you like some tea?¡±

    ¡°No, thank you.¡±

    Aelius started brewing a cup for himself as he talked. ¡°We have a formal recruitment process. Usually, that¡¯s done in Cairnmouth prior to our journey north.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been contracted to do some research, and part of that means taking samples of Labyrinth structures and myrvites. My fees would be extremely minimal, and I can adhere to any expedition plan you lay out.¡±

    That made Aelius brighten. ¡°How ¡®minimal¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Three drachms per expedition.¡±

    Aelius raised an eyebrow. ¡°That¡¯s very¡­ low, for a guild mage. Given the dangers involved.¡±

    Mirian shrugged, glad that he just assumed she was in the guild already. Beatrice¡¯s team hadn¡¯t checked for a certification either. ¡°I¡¯m already making money off the first contract. Not enough to hire my own team, though, so here I am looking to be brought on. If you¡¯re full, I can talk to the other teams.¡±

    The kettle on the stove began to whistle, and Aelius took it off to pour the hot water into his cup. ¡°Tell you what. The soldiers have some energy measurement gear they use to make sure people going on patrol actually can fight. Tomorrow, meet me there after breakfast. If you can manage 70 myr on the tri-point energy meter or can show me sustained spellcasting indicating a robust aura, I can let you on. But I need those numbers, or you¡¯re a liability down there.¡±

    Annoying, but fair, Mirian thought. She wondered if it was faster to hunt down the glaciavore next cycle, just to speed things up in town. ¡°Excellent. See you then,¡± she said.

    She¡¯d also confirmed that his soul was unmodified. Best to see that the rest of the cycle goes about the same as it did the last time. There¡¯d always be small changes, but major changes might indicate another time traveler. Her own presence could be explained away as the manipulations of someone else, as long as she didn¡¯t demonstrate clear foreknowledge. Better to be careful.

    The rest of the day, she finished up more of her spells, then found a book at the local library about lightweight armor designs. She paid the small fee to borrow it and spent the rest of the evening in the Lager Then Life tavern, surreptitiously checking for signs of soul magic on the population as she read through it. The book was interesting, and gave her some ideas on how she might make something that stopped smaller labyrinthine horrors or knives.

    ***

    It was cold enough the next morning that even Miran¡¯s enchanted cloak wasn¡¯t doing much. Aelius and the others were clearly used to the cold by now, though.

    ¡°Almost done,¡± said the soldier setting up the tri-point meter. Frostland¡¯s Gate used a partially collapsed stone wall to back the stone cairns they set up as targets. ¡°Alright, there. Ready. Clear the range!¡± he announced, even though the range was already clear. Good safety practice, though.

    Mirian hadn¡¯t actually tested her energy output since her lessons with Archmage Luspire had ended. She¡¯d been somewhere around 60 myr at the time. However, she knew she¡¯d already surpassed that number because she¡¯d stopped the bullets that would have killed Arenthia, and that put her at 70 myr at least. Somehow, she¡¯d taken an upward leap in power in just a few months that wasn¡¯t explained just by her normal practice routines. In fact, she¡¯d cut back on practice significantly since Sulvorath¡¯s attacks on her.

    There was one obvious thing she¡¯d started doing that was different: soul magic. There had to be a connection. At the very least, her exercises in modifying her own soul and manipulating myrvite soul energy had some sort of connection to her aura strength. She could see how the currents of her soul moved faster, and see the echoes of that in her aura.

    ¡°Go ahead,¡± Aelius said, watching the meter.

    Mirian pulled out her greater lightning wand, made sure the tip was aligned with the tri-point meter¡¯s detector. When she had been saving Beatrice, she¡¯d been utterly focused on that one spell. She tried to put herself into that mindset again, then unleashed. The distorted roar of the lightning was loud enough it set some hounds barking in a nearby house, and when she was done, there was a faint echo off the nearby hills.

    Aelius looked at the tri-point meter, then back at her, then at the meter again. Then he looked at the soldier, who looked at Mirian, then back to the meter, then back at Aelius, who was looking at Mirian.

    ¡°Does it say 81 myr?¡± Aelius asked the soldier.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°Yes sir, it does,¡± the soldier said.

    ¡°Well I¡¯ll be damned,¡± he muttered. Then he extended his hand. ¡°Our next delve is on the 14th. Be a pleasure to have you with us.¡±

    They shook on it.

    ***

    When the Ennecus Group met at the Labyrinth¡¯s entrance, Aelius was already having a tense conversation with the soldiers guarding the door.

    ¡°¡­haven¡¯t returned yet,¡± she heard the soldier saying.

    ¡°No indication? No message?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. But they¡¯re usually quite careful. They brought blocking engines, so maybe¡­ they could be holding out.¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t need to ask. She already understood: if the timeline didn¡¯t change in a meaningful way, Beatrice, Grimald and Cediri would all die in the myrvite ambush down there.

    A deep melancholy wormed its way into her. She¡¯d promised to save Arenthia. She needed to save Torrviol and her friends. But how could she let Lily¡¯s sister die?

    You can¡¯t save everyone, she realized. Jei had said it to her, but she hadn¡¯t fully grasped it. She¡¯d have to make choices. Horrible choices.

    How can it be this way, Ominian? she asked.

    She realized Aelius was talking to her. ¡°¡ªready, Niluri?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s go,¡± she said.

    The rest of the group consisted of another sorcerer and another mage, plus two ¡®heavies,¡¯ which was what Aelius was calling his frontline warriors. Like Grimald, both of them also were wielding warhammers. Mirian checked over their souls as they went down the elevator. Then she was silent, even as the rest of the Ennecus Group talked over their plans.

    It was getting hard to pretend to care. How many people had she met while in this time loop? Dozens? Hundreds? How many more would she meet?

    She had a purpose, and that was what mattered. What she did in the final cycle mattered, and even that only if she could stop the moon falling. Which meant fighting any of the other time travelers that stood in her way. Which meant figuring out what was going on with the leylines. Which meant¡­

    The elevator stopped, and the team formed up.

    ¡°You know how this works, yeah?¡± one of the heavies, Gromaer, asked her.

    ¡°I¡¯ve done this before,¡± she said.

    They crept through the first level in ominous silence, footsteps echoing. The team was on edge, except for Mirian. As they glanced at her, walking with total unconcern, she thought maybe they got more nervous.

    Aelius checked and rechecked his map as they moved. Unlike Cediri, he¡¯d opted to use a magical frame device, like what Mirian had made to map the Torrviol Underground, but much less bulky and more robust. Soon enough, they were at the stair to the second level.

    ¡°No sign of them up here,¡± the mage said. She¡¯d been casting divination spells. Mirian hadn¡¯t bothered; she knew where they¡¯d find them. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, she cast detect blood. Naturally, the blood still running through their bodies was the most prominent signal. But a dim glow suffused the floor of the room and the hall, where the faintest stains still marred the floor.

    That was the only sign of the other expedition. Otherwise, they were gone.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Gromaer said, keeping his weapon ready.

    ¡°Do the horrors ever leave bodies behind?¡± Mirian asked.

    Aelius shook his head.

    ¡°Expect an ambush,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Always,¡± Gromaer said. ¡°Though we might also find nothing. If this damn thing were predictable, I would sleep a hell of a lot easier at night.¡±

    They moved forward, also taking a right, then continuing toward the third level, the silence being far more disturbing to the team than a fight would have been.

    There was nothing, though.

    ¡°Here it is,¡± Aelius said when they got to the shaft that led to the third level. ¡°Perimeter sweep first. It¡¯s too damn quiet.¡±

    They fanned out, checking the adjacent rooms. All but one was empty.

    ¡°Eco-node,¡± the sorcerer called out. ¡°All small stuff.¡±

    Viridian had lectured on those. Sometimes, a random room of the Labyrinth would have a bunch of plants and animals usually found on the surface; a small sample of an ecosystem. Usually, the rooms were small, and only held smaller critters among the flora. Other times, they were absolutely massive, and even held megafauna or myrvites not ever found on the surface.

    ¡°Where¡¯s it from?¡± Aelius called back.

    ¡°Zhighua, from the looks of it. These vines¡­ and the bamboo. Plus I think that¡¯s a shimmerbug. So, Zhighua.¡± How a room just under a tundra forest got a bunch of tropical plants and bugs was just another mystery of the Labyrinth.

    ¡°Anything¡­ worthwhile?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t think so, sir.¡±

    ¡°Then let¡¯s descend.¡±

    Unlike the last level, which involved a very nice staircase, descending here meant going about fifty feet straight down. The shaft of stone was smooth and rectangular, except for a few downward sloping protrusions of dark rock with shapes like that of a quartz crystal.

    They got out the ropes and anchored them to places in the stonework, then climbed down, with one of the arcanists using lift object on the supplies, then lift person to give assistance to the heavies, since climbing with armor wasn¡¯t easy.

    Mirian could have used her wand of levitation, but since the wand was illegal to possess, she just climbed like the rest of them.

    The entrance to the Vault introduced the first closed door she¡¯d seen in the Labyrinth. Like the Divine Monument, everything about it was clearly the work of the Elder Gods. The stonework was covered by a spiderweb of strange metals, with rings of glyphs around different nodes.

    ¡°Took a long time to figure this one out,¡± Aelius said to Mirian. He glanced down at a notebook he carried. The rings of glyphs around the nodes could move, it turned out, and he spun them to match the diagrams in his notebook. As he was spinning the rings, Mirian realized she could see a pattern in the glyphs being used. Archmage Luspire had made her practice reading spells from every different category, and she¡¯d spent so many cycles memorizing them that she realized the symbols on the door weren¡¯t at all random.

    Something like a xerivar glyph indicated a path of motion, while something like a yili and makrovi paired to outline the first set of coordinates. Other glyphs spoke to different substances, or energy, or indicated an interaction with the caster¡¯s mind, such as pulling images or sounds.

    The second circle of glyphs, if one read it in a circle, said something like, ¡®web of metal spreads radially in forty-eight directions,¡¯ then listed the coordinates of all four corners of the door, then ended with, ¡®spin clockwise results in cast forward,¡¯ and Aelius had put the glyph indicating ¡®cast forward¡¯ within the brackets of a metallic circle.

    It was a door filled with riddles.

    Jei had long said that math was the language of the universe, but math could only describe so much. Language, too, had severe limitations. What if the Elder Gods had come up with something more exact? The glyphs were a language, she realized.

    For a moment, she was stunned by the revelation. How hadn¡¯t she seen it before? The Elder Gods would never say something like ¡®red cube¡¯ as letters or sounds, they would specify the exact wavelength of light and the precise coordinates of each vertex. Were her dreams so different? The Ominan spoke to her, but not through words. It was always through images, and feelings.

    ¡°How did you figure it out?¡± she asked, curious if they¡¯d hit on the same solution.

    The sorcerer laughed. ¡°Brute force! We alternated with the other team and spent hours and hours trying every possible combination. We got lucky, though. We were only about a tenth of the way through the different combinations before we landed on the correct one.¡±

    The door split open silently, the stone cracking apart along the webs, then floating up to the ceiling where it hovered.

    ¡°It stays open until the next shift in the Labyrinth, if you were worried,¡± Aelius said.

    The inside of the Vault was different than the rest of the Labyrinth. There were more doors, and more¡­ things. Strange mechanisms that reminded her of workshop tools. Plinths of stone that looked like someone had mushed together all the geometric shapes they¡¯d learned about in math class. Illusionary projections of glyphs, though there were so many she didn¡¯t recognize she couldn¡¯t make sense of them. Another place in the wall where an illusion showed a strange shape that shifted and distorted as it rotated.

    At each of the cardinal points in the middle of the walls were closed doors. They had no handles or apparent opening mechanisms.

    ¡°Welcome to the Frostland Vault,¡± Aelius said. ¡°If you see the automaton, shout, and we¡¯ll retreat to the entrance. We should have a few hours before it shows up though.¡± To the rest of the crew he said, ¡°Alright, get to work people.¡±

 Chapter 102 - The Frostland Vault

    The team spread out to take measurements in the room, placing down several divination devices to take readings on ambient mana levels and energy types. As the two arcanists channeled mana into them to activate them, Gomaer went up to one of the walls and started moving stone tiles around. When he was done, there was a heavy sounding clunk and one of the stone pillars in the middle of the room opened up like a flower. Mirian had no idea how something like ¡®stone¡¯ was bending so flexibly.

    Each of the petals of stone contained hieroglyphs that vaguely resembled myrvites. There were also channels carved into the base that led to the center. ¡°Do these take specific magichemicals?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Got it in one,¡± Aelius said, already getting the vials out from his pack. ¡°The magichemical matches the myrvite spell organ it¡¯s distilled from. Costs two drachms to open this up each time.¡±

    The magichemicals mixed in the center of the stone flower, then there was a brief flare of arcane energy and the substance took on a yellow glow and began oozing like honey. Mirian knew for a fact that what usually happened when you mixed them was a rapid exomagical reaction that usually ended in a fireball, and the resulting substance was a pile of black tar and a lot of smoke. Professor Seneca would have had a conniption.

    ¡°You¡¯ve analyzed the properties of this substance?¡±

    ¡°As best we can. It becomes inert if you take it out of the Vault.¡± Aelius looked to his other arcanists. ¡°Got the measurements?¡±

    There were nods all around.

    Aelius scooped up the glowing yellow substance with a bare hand and unceremoniously chucked it at the north door. There was a plorp sound as it hit, then started dripping down the stone. Then, the substance rapidly spread across the door as if it had a life of its own, and the whole door glowed yellow. With another clunk, the door rumbled open, splitting apart into six segments that retracted into the wall.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t work on any of the other doors,¡± Gomaer said. ¡°Just that one. No clue how to open the others in this room.¡±

    The next room was encircled by strange growths, something like a cross between muscles stripped of all flesh and fungal hyphae. Here and there, the organic growths bloomed into something between a blossom and a mushroom cap.

    As before, the arcanists spread out to place down their measuring devices, while Aelius opened up his journal again. Hidden under the mushroom caps were ¡®spores¡¯¡ªwhich took the form of tiny stone hexagons each with a hieroglyph on them. There were slots by each door, each one representing an ecosystem. To solve these puzzles, they just had to cluster the hieroglyphs representing plants and animals that existed together.

    ¡°Strange. They really are like trials,¡± Mirian said.

    This time, all three doors rumbled open.

    ¡°Readings are good,¡± the sorcerer said, marking down the results in his notebook.

    They proceeded like this. All in all, the team had nine rooms unlocked. All of them seemed to involve some sort of puzzle. Sometimes, they only knew how to open one door. Sometimes, several. Mirian had already noticed that the layout of the Vault seemed to defy physics. If they opened a northern door, then an eastern door, then a southern door, then circled back through a western door to what should have been the same room they started in, they instead found a completely different room. Another sure sign of the Elder Gods at work.

    I wonder what Respected Jei would make of it, Mirian thought. At no point while she walked through the rooms had she realized she was moving through another spatial dimension¡ªand yet, she must have been. She resolved to sketch out some ideas on the math behind that later. For now, she was too interested in the magical results.

    Ambient magic had grown as they descended to third level, then risen again once they got in the Vault. Beyond that, there were pinpoint spikes of arcane energy occurring¡ªas best she could tell¡ªdozens of times per second. The only thing that did anything comparable was a spell engine, and even a train¡¯s spell engine did so on a much smaller scale.

    The teams had long ago looted what they could from the Vault, bringing back several samples that Elsadorra was still helping them study, but there were plenty of ¡®easy¡¯ rooms, as Aelius termed it, they could still attempt to open.

    ¡°So what does a ¡®hard¡¯ room look like?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°Well, let¡¯s just say there¡¯s a reason we¡¯re staying in the outer rooms,¡± Aelius replied. He walked over to another door they hadn¡¯t opened and pressed his hand against it.

    No puzzle for this one. It just split open revealing a large corridor, a few hundred feet long with a very high ceiling.

    The corridor went for about ten feet, then led to a sheer drop. ¡°Goes down fifty feet,¡± said Aelius. ¡°So you¡¯ve got to have about a ten foot horizontal leap, and don¡¯t mess up. Then there¡¯s that next part,¡± he said, gesturing. Silently, the walls in that section began to close, until they were touching. Then just as silently, they moved open again and repeated the process. That section of crushing wall had no way around it, and was twenty feet long. ¡°So you can¡¯t just carefully set up some ropes and anchors to ferry everyone across. After the crushing corridor, there¡¯s all those tiles. We threw some rocks in there, and there¡¯s certain tiles that, when touched, send out a column of superheated fire. Beyond those¡ªtook Gomaer¡¯s arm to hit that far¡ªgravity in the corridor reverses. Amazing bit of magic, no clue how they accomplished it. So that nasty looking ceiling there with islands of stone surrounded by ceiling spikes? You essentially fall up into that, then have to make perfect jumps from platform to platform until you get to the end.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s quite the death trap,¡± Mirian said. ¡°But couldn¡¯t a quick levitation spell get you across all of that?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s the best part,¡± Aelius said. ¡°The entire corridor has an antimagic field. Just a suppression field, but no spell is going to work in there, and it also deadens any of the devices we put in until they¡¯re back out.¡±

    Fascinating, Mirian thought. ¡°Have you tried to locate the antimagic glyphs?¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°They¡¯re not near the entrance, I¡¯ll tell you that much. Also, fair warning, if you start drilling into the walls to remove anything here, Scrappy is gonna come looking. So that¡¯s why we don¡¯t go any further.¡±

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Mirian said, though in her mind she was already thinking about how she¡¯d tackle it. In preparatory school, the dueling instructor had made them run obstacle courses for agility, and this reminded her of those. She was trying to trace the route she would take.

    Maybe she could practice at the end of the cycle. Except, if she waited that long, she¡¯d have to get through the entropic antimagic field, and probably reopen all the puzzles because of the Labyrinth shift. To even attempt this room, how much of a cycle would she have to give up?

    ¡°Do entropic antimagic fields nullify mana elixirs?¡± she asked.

    ¡°No,¡± said Aelius. ¡°Though that¡¯s a suppression field in there. If it was entropic, I don¡¯t think it would be humanly possible.¡±

    ¡°Right, just a stray thought. What a fascinatingly deadly place.¡±

    They went back to the puzzle in the room that the group was working on.

    This room had more of the strange muscular-looking fungi, but there were no glyph tiles under the caps. Instead, there were tendrils dripping down from the caps like they were some sort of jellyfish. If you put something in the tendrils, they gently grabbed it and brought it up until it touched the top of the cap. Inevitably, they then dropped whatever they¡¯d been given to the floor.

    Everyone had basically figured out that, like the magichemicals that went on the flower petals, there was a specific thing the mushrooms were looking for. What that thing was, no one had figured out.

    Mirian sat cross-legged on the floor and thought. There seemed to be a theme to the puzzles along this wing of the Vault. Another puzzle had involved lining up the life cycles of different myrvites. There seemed to be a theme of ecology.

    Professor Viridian might know, she thought. The other thing she needed to check was how soul magic interacted with an antimagic suppression field.

    ¡°Gonna test something,¡± she said, and stepped into the corridor.

    Immediately, it felt like a wall had come down between herself and her aura. The arcane catalyst failed to have any effect. But she could still access her focus and her soul. She siphoned a small amount of her soul so she could reach out with the celestial equivalent of raw magic and touch the walls. The tendril immediately dissolved in the field.

    Interesting. It seemed soul magic still worked, it was just blocked as soon as it tried to do anything. Her disguise was safe, as well as any other internal soul magic. She had some theories as to how that might be useful.

    She stepped back out. ¡°Well, that didn¡¯t work,¡± she said.

    Aelius snorted.

    That was when they heard the alarm ward going off.

    ¡°Shit!¡± the sorcerer said. ¡°It¡¯s here.¡±

    Aelius turned to look at the door they¡¯d come through. ¡°Alright, everyone. You know the drill. Equipment stowed, in formation, get those illusions ready.¡±

    The team scrambled to pick up the measuring devices, then quickly formed two columns. Mirian took her place in the back.

    They walked quickly back towards the entrance, stopping a moment in the center of each room while Aelius used divination to track Scrappy¡¯s progress. They were two rooms away when the Elder automaton finally made its appearance.

    Mirian wasn¡¯t sure what she expected. Maybe a humanoid looking figure made of metal? Certainly something with a definitive form.

    Scrappy was like six metal snakes swirling around each other in constant flux, with long needle-like protrusions that split open to act like legs, or stabbed at some part of the Labyrinth like a surgeon suturing a wound. They seemed to surround a core of some type, a red glowing orb that was encircled by three overlapping rings, each studded with what looked to be violet crystals. It was at least eight feet tall¡ªat least, most of the time. Its pieces never stopped moving.

    Aside from the clack clack clack of its weird needle-feet, its movement was disturbingly silent.

    ¡°Illusions!¡± snapped Aelius, and the team immediately cast three greater illusionary figure spells, each a replica of one of them. Aelius had mentioned earlier that Scrappy wouldn¡¯t be deceived by a regular illusion; it needed to have visible light, infrared light, and create vibrations when its feet hit the floor, or the golem would just ignore it.

    The team scattered in every direction, leaving the illusions to fight it, then reformed around its back. The illusions dodged about, but within moments Scrappy had swept its needle-arms through them, realized they were fake, and was in pursuit.

    ¡°Double time!¡± Aelius called. Then, seeing that it was gaining on them, said, ¡°Fighting retreat.¡±

    The sorcerer spun, unsheathing a wand, then let out a force blast. If the automaton had been anything normal, it would have been sent flying backward. Instead, it paused momentarily.

    Gomaer followed up by bringing his warhammer down in a powerful strike. It let out a loud brang! as the steel head bounced off one of the coils of metal. A human skull would have shattered. Scrappy just paused, then came forward again.

    Gomaer leapt back to avoid getting impaled by two of the golem¡¯s arms as they swung out, while the sorcerer put up a shield that deflected a fiery ray that burst out of its center. Aelius and the other mage went after it next, again using force blasts to keep it stunned while the group backpedaled.

    Mirian waited for an opening, then unleashed a greater lightning. The bolt roared out, blazing bright.

    Scrappy¡¯s central glowing ¡®eye¡¯ of the golem turned to look at her. It hadn¡¯t been damaged at all; the gaze on her looked more that of a curious animal. Her spell had smacked into it like a feather hitting a brick wall. Mythril, she realized. Mana-impregnated titanium. Like the orichalcum, it would convey incredible spell resistance, and anything made out of metal that thick wasn¡¯t going to flinch at anything short of an artillery shell.

    Unless¡­

    As the other arcanists continued to harass it with spells and the two heavies worked to swat at the needle arms that it brought forward, Mirian siphoned another small portion of her soul. She then structured that soul energy so it was in a thin layer on the outside of her aura. As the next greater lightning bolt formed, that veil of soulstuff would wrap around the spell. That would make the spell pierce any resistance. She¡¯d practiced it on myrvites with Arenthia to deal with auramancers and people like Specter, because in theory it should work against anything that resisted magic, from souls to mythril.

    She again felt her spell smashing against the metallic form of the golem, but this time, it was like drilling into a wall. The resistance was still there, but the mana fueling stayed concentrated instead of scattering. This time, arcs of electricity jumped about throughout the automaton, and it let out a metallic howl.

    ¡°What in the fuck!¡± shouted the arcanist.

    ¡°It¡¯s never done that before! Run!¡± shouted Aelius.

    The group broke off, sprinting for the exit. Scrappy let out another screech, the sound echoing throughout the Vault, then continued after them.

    Mirian was the first to make it out, sprinting past the rest until she made it to the ropes. Then she turned, ready to shield the others. Gomaer was the last one out. He let out a wheeze as he crossed the threshold.

    Scrappy stopped at the door, red eye bright as fire.

    Mirian got ready to cast again, but the other mage held up a hand. ¡°It won¡¯t exit the Vault. It will go undo all the things we just did, but we¡¯re safe.¡±

    She nodded, sheathing her wand, and got ready to climb.

 Chapter 103 - Northern Allies

    They made it back to the surface two hours later, having fought through a scattering of labyrinthine horrors and a chimera that seemed to have come from an undiscovered eco-node on the first level. Mirian went through the motions of denying that she¡¯d done anything special.

    She went on patrol, killing several myrvites. With the split profits from selling their spell organs, she got her own room again in the lodge and rebuilt her workshop, this time adding the tools she¡¯d need to continue her work on soul magic.

    Then the arcane eruption in the Endelice took place, and Mirian spent the evening slaughtering myrvites, which fully charged the soul repository she¡¯d built. During the fighting, she continued to check the souls of everyone in town. With Beatrice¡¯s group consumed by the Labyrinth, the myrvites broke through one of the streets, stampeding over four people who subsequently died of their injuries. Again, the local priest was wholly inadequate for the task. Mirian confirmed he didn¡¯t have a soul repository. In future cycles, she could use hers for healing the wounded, but for now, she kept it hidden. She continued to do nothing to indicate her foreknowledge.

    On the 22nd of Solem, Mirian went down with Aelius¡¯s group again. There was a great deal of swearing as they realized the Labyrinth had shifted again and they had to re-explore the first level. Mirian had known it was going to happen and couldn¡¯t bring herself to feign surprise or annoyance. Oh, you have to do something you¡¯ve already done again? she found herself thinking. Darn. That must be so frustrating for you.

    The labyrinthine horrors on the first level were small, but persistent. They killed several dozen as they remapped the rooms.

    When they took a break to eat lunch, the other mage tried to strike up a conversation. ¡°So, Niluri, what got you started in the arcane arts?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re interesting,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s for sure. What do you like the most?¡±

    ¡°All of it, I¡¯d say.¡±

    There was a slight tinge of annoyance from the other arcanist. ¡°Well, where are you from?¡±

    ¡°Cairnmouth,¡± she lied.

    ¡°Oh yeah? That¡¯s neat. So am I. Which neighborhood?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°We moved around a lot.¡±

    ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    A long pause. ¡°You don¡¯t talk much, do you?¡±

    ¡°Sometimes.¡±

    Mirian had killed the conversation in record time.

    She just couldn¡¯t bring herself to care. The only thing she wanted to know from the team was what they knew about the labyrinth, and the small talk just didn¡¯t interest her. She knew she was being cold and rude, but it wouldn¡¯t matter. None of them would remember.

    She could always go through social niceties if she needed something.

    After several hours of mapping, they found the entrance to the second level again, now a few hundred meters north of where it had been. Interestingly, Mirian noticed the new layout had several long corridors running north to south that hadn¡¯t been there before, and ambient magic levels in those corridors was elevated, but not in the adjacent rooms.

    Mirian captured a small labyrinthine horror in a force cage, remembering Elsadorra¡¯s request for a live specimen. As they moved up the elevator shaft, though, the rest of the team eying her and the specimen nervously, the horror suddenly went rigid and then limp. Mirian poked at it with some raw force magic, but it didn¡¯t react. She let it out of the cage to see if it was faking death (which Aelius shouted about), but it stayed limp.

    Interesting. Aelius had mentioned the yellow substance from the puzzle became inert when it left the Vault, but this was a living creature. Ambient mana levels hadn¡¯t changed significantly. The environment wasn¡¯t fundamentally different¡ªthe Labyrinth was basically as cold as the surface. So what had killed it?

    Elsadorra did appreciate how fresh the sample was, and immediately dissected it. Mirian watched and took notes.

    She continued to work on and off with Elsadorra the rest of the cycle, helping her analyze samples, distill magichemicals, and decipher the function of some of the glyphs they¡¯d found down there. On the outside, Elsadorra appeared to be about as affectionate as a pile of bricks, but Mirian started to discover there was a beautiful honesty to the woman. When she said, ¡°Thank you. I am grateful,¡± it was in emotionless monotone, but she really did mean it.

    Part of her appreciated it, because the way Elsadorra sounded was the way Mirian felt. Her conversations didn¡¯t exist to further a bond between two people, didn¡¯t create any friendships, wouldn¡¯t ever lead to a mutual love;  they were something she had to get through, in the same way she had to piss in lavatories and eat three meals each day.

    It was hard to find genuine joy in any of it. Instead, she only found satisfaction in learning something she hadn¡¯t known before, making progress on a problem, or opening up another line of inquiry to investigate. Certainly, she wasn¡¯t running out of things to learn.

    When the end came again, she watched Frostland¡¯s Gate dispassionately; one last check for any hiding agents or anomalies. The people clutched each other and wept and asked why? to the heavens.

    Mirian had no answers for them yet.

    ***

    The next cycle, after grabbing the wand and focus from the underground and changing the resonance of the orichalcum pieces, she visited Professor Viridian during his office hours. Outside, the Torrviol was still on the hunt for someone that matched her pre-transformation description.

    ¡°I have a bit of a strange question. What¡¯s the relationship among all these hieroglyphs?¡± she asked, handing him the sketch she¡¯d made.

    The old professor looked at her, then back at the drawing, then back at her. ¡°Where did you see these?¡± he asked.

    ¡°A book about the Labyrinth. It¡¯s been bothering me. They talk about puzzles that make sense, but I can¡¯t figure this one out. The puzzles all seem to have an ecology theme, so I thought you might know.¡±

    ¡°Does the book explain what each hieroglyph represents?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°That would be what I would research first, then. I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m not familiar with Labyrinth hieroglyphs, but there should be several books on the subject in the library. Perhaps, Translating the Elder Gods, or The Hollow Bones Of The World would be a good start.¡±

    Mirian wrote down the titles, and thought about how many books from Bainrose she could comfortably fit in her pack. Four? Five? ¡°Do you know much about the labyrinthine horrors?¡±

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    Viridian sighed. ¡°It¡¯s a rather thought-terminating name for a family of organisms, isn¡¯t it? All I can tell you is they¡¯re under-studied, and I don¡¯t see that changing. I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t recommend magical ecology as a focus to anyone choosing a career path. It is an¡­ uphill struggle.¡± He smiled, then said, ¡°It¡¯s a joy to learn about and teach, though.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said, smiling back as she stood. She was about to ask if he had any other myrvite studies books, then realized he¡¯d probably just recommend the texts he already assigned to his classes. Her eye caught the titles of the books on his shelf. His name was on several of them as the author. I wonder what he wrote about, she thought, but she didn¡¯t ask the professor. She had enough to do already, and doubted it would have any relevance to any of the problems she needed to solve right now.

    Mirian checked out the books Viridian had suggested in the library, plus two more bulky volumes about the Labyrinth that she hadn¡¯t read yet. She left two seeds of chaos on top of the train heading down to Cairnmouth.

    Then she gathered her supplies and left for the north again, having prepared several more surprises for Sulvorath.

    The second spy made it too easy; he went right up to the myrvites in the Studies building before he killed them, so it was a simple matter to bind the souls of the myrvites he was already going to kill and use that necromantic energy to remove his soul mark. He¡¯d never even known he was being watched.

    The next time he went into the spy¡¯s headquarters, everyone was in for a nasty surprise.

    She also left a note for Magistrate Ada telling her where to find the listening devices in Mayor Wolden¡¯s office and the counterfeit Florian ingots, then an anonymous warning for Archmage Luspire warning him about a man who would be seeking to manipulate him named ¡®Suvlorath,¡¯ who would know too many secrets and appear to have foreknowledge, but was actually just seeking to seize the Divine Monument and all the research associated with it.

    The other letters she sent to Palendurio and Cairnmouth were random. The less predictable each cycle, the more Sulvorath would struggle. It pleased her to imagine all the countless hours he was putting into finding her or untangling whatever mess she¡¯d left him. Maybe he would abandon Torrviol. Maybe he already had. She didn¡¯t think so, though. By her estimations, he¡¯d needed to dedicate dozens of cycles to learning about Torrviol and the dynamics at play. The first time she¡¯d seen him, he had been targeting Nicolus specifically. He¡¯d learned Mirian¡¯s exact routine so that he could ambush her and Jei in the underground. It all betrayed an unhealthy amount of focus on her.

    So she¡¯d stay a ghost for as long as it took.

    She did decide to shed the soul-disguise midway through her journey north. She could always reapply it before the journey ended, and Frostland¡¯s Gate seemed safe enough. This time, she wanted Beatrice to trust her.

    Mirian spent some time hunting down the den of the glaciavore. This time, she could levitate above it and drop trees on it at her leisure.

    The extra time finding the glaciavore plus the full two days she¡¯d spent in Torrviol put her arrival on the 10th of Solem again. Next time, though, she was sure she could cut a day off her preparations and a day off the travel time. She rented the really nice room in the Kivinotsuur lodge again. She kept the anti-divination wards to a minimum; anyone trying to find her with divination would have to be nearby, and she was confident she knew Frostland¡¯s Gate well enough now that she could detect any anomalous activities. Even Luspire¡¯s divination spells probably could only reach a mile out at most, so the distance between her and the rest of civilization was its own protection.

    The next morning, she headed to the tavern to meet Beatrice.

    ***

    ¡°Mirian!?¡± Beatrice said, jaw dropping when she saw her enter. ¡°Don¡¯t you have¡­ classes?¡±

    ¡°Good to see you,¡± Mirian said, smiling. And she meant it. The feeling she had for the people she already knew, who already knew her¡ªit was like a warmth bubbling up in her. This was the Beatrice she knew.

    ¡°Please tell me you didn¡¯t bring Lily. If she¡¯s also skipping class¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s fine. She¡¯s in Torrviol. Listen, I¡¯m working on some research, related to what you¡¯re doing in the Labyrinth. Grimald, Cediri. Good to see you both.¡± She sat.

    ¡°How did you know¡­?¡±

    ¡°Time travel,¡± said Mirian, and then she began to explain. She gave them the short version, and included the warning about the other time traveler so that they¡¯d stay careful. The fact that she already knew a detailed layout of the Vault, including its four-dimensional nature and how to solve several of the puzzles, helped lend a great deal of credence to her story. The four glaciavore eyes she put on the table next probably helped too.

    Beatrice leaned back in her chair. ¡°I need a drink,¡± she said.

    ¡°This still seems¡­ well, ridiculous, don¡¯t you think?¡± Cediri said.

    Mirian raised an eyebrow in his direction. ¡°Did you want me to tell them your secret? Would that help you see the truth?¡±

    Beatrice looked at Cediri. ¡°You have a secret?¡±

    He blinked, considering Beatrice, then Grimald, then Mirian.

    ¡°Tell you what. Cediri, I want you to be talking to your contacts anyways. Have them keep an eye out for the other guy I was talking about. Figure out what he¡¯s up to. How much is that worth to you?¡± Mirian jangled her pouch of coins.

    ¡°Contacts? What?¡± Beatrice said.

    ¡°If she¡¯s telling the truth, money is worthless,¡± Grimald said.

    Mirian gave them an evil grin. ¡°And yet, people have a very hard time saying ¡®no¡¯ to it. It¡¯s one thing to know something, and another to understand it in your bones.¡±

    ¡°Cediri,¡± Beatrice said, ¡°We don¡¯t keep secrets from each other. We¡¯re buddies. What did you do?¡±

    Mirian dropped her voice, because this part, she didn¡¯t need going around town. ¡°He¡¯s been smuggling myrvite parts to the Cairnmouth Syndicate for extra coin.¡± She raised a finger as the smuggler in question opened his mouth to protest. ¡°I¡¯ve met Numo and Ravantha, so please don¡¯t bother denying it.¡±

    Beatrice went white. ¡°You¡­ you¡­ I can¡¯t believe¡­ we have an ethical responsibility to¡­.¡± She stood up to leave, but Mirian grabbed her arm.

    ¡°Forgive him,¡± she said. ¡°You don¡¯t have time to hold onto that feeling of betrayal. He¡¯s still your friend. Hold on to that.¡±

    Beatrice looked at Mirian. The table was silent. Grimald looked sad, but he didn¡¯t say anything. Finally, Beatrice sat back down and said, ¡°You have changed, haven¡¯t you? You¡¯re not the Mirian I knew. She was¡­ funnier. More carefree. And stressed. And awkward. And not nearly as smart as she thought she was.¡±

    Mirian gave her a sad smile. ¡°All true, I suppose. Everyone changes, though. Or at least, they used to.¡±

    Another silence came over the table. Behind them, there was the pleasant sounds of chatter and the clink of utensils on plates, of the tavern door opening and closing, of steam hissing in the kitchen.

    ¡°So what do we do?¡± Grimald said.

    ¡°¡®To break a mountain, start by removing a single stone,¡¯¡± Mirian quoted.

    ¡°And how many stones have you removed?¡± asked Cediri.

    ¡°At least seven,¡± Mirian said.

    Beatrice snorted.

    ¡°See, I still have some of the old Mirian in me. So here¡¯s my plan,¡± she said. They had eighteen days, and Mirian outlined six different expeditions into the Labyrinth she wanted, with the primary goal of tracking leyline movement beneath the Labyrinth, the secondary goal of retrieving and studying both antimagic entropic glyphs and and celestial runes they could find, and the tertiary goal of making progress in the Vault.

    That would require heavily modifying the divination equipment they did have, but Mirian¡¯s expertise in glyphs and artifice would streamline the process significantly. Having a team that was on-board with the plan was critical, because Mirian would need to build and then charge a soul repository with myrvite souls, then not freak out when she started doing soul magic.

    ¡°You trust her?¡± she overheard Grimald whispering to Beatrice.

    ¡°She¡¯s a good person,¡± Beatrice whispered back. ¡°And how else do you explain what she knows?¡±

    ***

    After the weeks of expeditions and research, Mirian and Beatrice watched the world end from the village at the end of the world.

    ¡°How long will it take?¡± Beatrice asked. They¡¯d hiked up to a hill outside town for a better view. Beatrice had cried for a bit, then her tears had dried.

    ¡°Everyone always wants to know. I wish I had an answer.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, at least,¡± she said.

    Mirian wasn¡¯t sure if she meant the bright auroras dancing across the sky and the prismatic glow of arcane energy erupting across the frostlands like fireworks or the frostlands themselves, dripping with glaciers and soft blankets of snow. She nodded.

    ¡°Who will you save?¡±

    ¡°Lily,¡± said Mirian instantly. Then with a sigh, ¡°And as many as I can. But I¡¯m just one person.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t do it alone,¡± Beatrice agreed. ¡°No one could.¡± She was silent for a long time. The crashing thunder of a leyline breaching the Endelice echoed across the land.

    Beatrice said, ¡°When you come back here, tell me¡­ tell me that you have to cut apart a rose bush to see its flowers bloom again.¡±

    Mirian put her hand on Beatrice¡¯s arm.

    ¡°At least I won¡¯t remember. But you¡­ stay strong, Mirian.¡±

    The moon fell again.

 Chapter 104 - Moving Along

    As the cycles continued, it was those moments of friendship that Mirian held onto, that helped bolster her when she felt bitter and alone. Telling Beatrice about the roses helped her friend find acceptance in the nature of the cycle, and softened the blow when the end came again.

    Progress in the Vaults was arduous and sluggish, though it sped up considerably when Mirian had nailed down exactly when and where each attack would be. They opened up three more rooms in the ¡®ecology¡¯ wing of the Vault as Mirian read up on more and more myrvites. Soon enough, she had memorized some hundred species and their associated magichemical and ecological niche, simply by studying them endlessly.

    She also figured out that, far from protecting the group from attacks, the force shield spell engines the group was using to block off passages were actually triggering attacks. Mirian theorized the spell engines were making some sort of arcane ¡®noise¡¯ that disturbed the labyrinthine horrors and riled them up. When they stopped using them, the attacks decreased.

    Eventually, she also got Frostland¡¯s Gate to listen to her about the myrvite stampede that happened on the 19th, and just let them all run right through the middle of town. When everyone got out of the way and just put up a few force walls in front of the greenhouses and the livestock, no one died and the stampede was over in record time. She hadn¡¯t even needed to tell everyone she was a time traveler, just claim an expertise in myrvite studies and then get the Torrviol Expedition to back her up on that.

    Beatrice¡¯s research group made a leap in progress when they opened up an entire new wing. The illusions cycling through various three dimensional crystal forms in the first room turned out to be another of the puzzles, and the solution was to project her own illusion in the same space with a four dimensional extrapolation of the shape. She thought of Professor Jei teaching her the mathematics of that, and again was thankful for her old mentor.

    She missed her. A lot.

    That puzzle in turn led to more puzzles, each with more of a geometric theme. Then, like the magically suppressed agility course death corridor, there was another room that seemed certain death to go into.

    This one had two greater labyrinthine horrors, and its own magical suppression field. The horrors wouldn¡¯t leave the room. They simply waited patiently for anything to enter, then rapidly came in for the kill.

    Projectiles didn¡¯t seem to work in the room, either. Mirian had them bring down several rifles the second time they visited the room, but a magnetic field activated that stopped the bullets the instant they crossed through the door. Crossbow bolts and thrown spears (metal tipped or not) got stopped by force magic, though a spear could be brought into the room if carried by hand.

    That got Mirian wondering if Labyrinth magic was powerful enough to stop an artillery shell, though there was no practical way to test that. There was no artillery in Frostland¡¯s Gate, and even if she helped make a weapon, it wasn¡¯t going to fit in the elevator shaft or through any of the doors.

    ¡°How many soldiers would you need to bring those two horrors down without magic?¡± Mirian asked Grimald at one of their tavern meetings.

    ¡°At least twelve. Four with heavy shields, six with specially reinforced spears, and two with machetes for hacking away at those creepy limbs. I still think you¡¯d lose several people. But add too many more, and there¡¯d be no room to maneuver.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s attempt to use soul magic to get around the suppression barriers didn¡¯t work either. She iterated on her soul repository, but no amount of soul energy she could contain in the device seemed to be able to overcome the suppression field. Like the death corridor, whatever glyphs or runes were controlling the field seemed to be on the other side of the room.

    Her consolation prize was the stone tablets they brought back from one of the deeper rooms in the vault. One tablet had both regular arcane glyphs and celestial runes.

    It was the breakthrough Mirian needed. She spent four cycles getting to the tablet as fast as she could, bringing up special materials and devices from Torrviol, just so she could study it. At the start of another cycle, she brought her hypothesis to Professor Endresen, her old arcane physics professor, who admitted the math was impeccable and then, when realization struck her, got very excited. Mirian was sorry to have to disappear on her the next day.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a different type of magical field,¡± Mirian finally concluded one evening, while she and Beatrice ate dinner atop a hill overlooking town. Beatrice had brought lagers for both of them, but Mirian had decided she hated the taste of the stuff. ¡°It¡¯s the same field on a different part of the spectrum. Like, we can only see visible light normally, because we¡¯re human, but we know that light can be infrared light or ultraviolet, each with its own properties. Arcane magic is like the infrared part of the spectrum; humans need a special tool, the catalyst, to interact with it. Celestial magic is like ultraviolet. You need a different tool, the celestial focus, to interact with it. Your own soul is like visible light. As it expands out, it changes frequency to the arcane equivalent of infrared, which is why auric mana¡¯s frequency matches the arcane catalyst. So if soul energy can be brought down into rapid decay, it can be used in arcane spells. Maybe that¡¯s what I¡¯m doing subconsciously. Maybe that¡¯s what archmages like Luspire are doing, but not even realizing it. Does that make sense?¡±

    Beatrice, who was drunk as Mirian explained this to her, said, ¡°That¡¯s so beautiful,¡± only slurring her words slightly. ¡°That would get you published in the Journal of Arcane Physics, you know. Very prestigious. I still can¡¯t believe the holy Luminate Order is covering up that they do necromancy. Or whatever.¡± She gave a loud sigh, then said, ¡°The sunsets here are so pretty.¡±

    Mirian continued her speculation. ¡°Myrvites like bog lions and glaciavores can probably interact with soul magic in the same way I can with orichalcum. They¡¯ve got to be attuning some sort of substance with a resonance field to gain spell resistance. But what substance?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t believe the Arcane Praetorians have been hiding a super-metal from researchers this whole time,¡± Beatrice mumbled.

    ¡°And any myrvite that can cast a natural spell is able to access arcane magic naturally. Is it required to have different biomagical substances that can do this, or is it possible to get a single catalyst that can access both ends of the spectrum? Would that allow a more deliberate shift of energy? And what does that imply about how a soul can be strengthened?¡±

    Beatrice had no idea. By now, Mirian¡¯s hypotheses were well outside her expertise. Even Elsadorra had no idea, and her only thought for testing Mirian¡¯s spell resistance involved capturing a live glaciavore to vivisect, which was completely out of the question.

    Mirian found that she did some of her best thinking on the road to Frostland¡¯s Gate. It helped her mull over her new theories and how to test them, sometimes consciously, sometimes unconsciously. Even when she wasn¡¯t focused on a problem, some part of her brain was working on it, and sometimes inspiration would strike.

    This time, as she made yet another trip north, she realized she needed to change tactics again. She could still make incremental progress, perhaps opening another room, or narrowing down the function of another new glyph, but it would be slow and time consuming, and wouldn¡¯t lead to much gain.

    Mirian decided there were a few things she needed to do.

    The first was to investigate Palendurio. She still needed to learn more about how the conspiracy played out there. She was also very interested in investigating the Grand Sanctum and its artifacts of the Prophets, as well as learning more about how orichalcum and the other special materials were manufactured. Both places might open up new theoretical ground for her to cover.

    Two was to start monitoring Sulvorath, and see if he was still fixated on finding her, and which of her disruptions were most effective. She had a few ideas on how to accomplish that in relative safety.

    Lastly, she wanted to find a way to get to Vadriach. Going into Akana Praediar itself might be risky, and she¡¯d initially dismissed the idea, but the university there was leading the way in arcane physics research. Plus, she never had figured out how the Akanan dreadnought airship¡¯s engines worked. And if she could keep an eye on Sulvorath without him knowing, she could make sure she was countering his methods to find her before she even encountered them. Besides, if he was moving into Torrviol each cycle, perhaps it was best to strike him in the place he¡¯d just vacated. General Hanaran would approve of this kind of strategic thinking, she thought.

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    She spent one more cycle wrapping up her research and formulating how she might use more advanced equipment to explore some of the unanswered questions, then said her goodbyes.

    ¡°I know you won¡¯t remember it, but I¡¯ll miss you,¡± she told Beatrice.

    Beatrice gave her a big hug. ¡°Be good to yourself out there,¡± she said. ¡°And tell my little sister I said ¡®hi.¡¯ You know. When the time is right.¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± Mirian said.

    The world ended again.

    ***

    Mirian saved Arenthia again the next cycle so that she could consult with the Cult of Zomalator again and run her new ideas about soul magic past them.

    Lecne and Arenthia were very impressed by her research, and said it made a lot of sense, and also, that they had absolutely no idea how to help her. She was breaching new ground in magical research. At least, new ground in unclassified magical research. She was sure that there were people in the Praetorians or the Deeps or their Akanan equivalents who had already made progress in those areas.

    Lecne said as much in a few sentences. Arenthia reached the same conclusion in about thirty minutes of yammering.

    Mirian then interrogated Lecne endlessly about what he knew about the Grand Sanctum. He told her as much as he could, including what daily life there was like, the greeting rituals, and what sort of behavior might arouse suspicion.

    ¡°This sucks to say, but you¡¯re going to have much better luck disguised as a man than as a woman,¡± Lecne said. ¡°The Order is, uh, still working on the idea that men and women have equal rights.¡±

    ¡°After a hundred years?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°Look, there¡¯s a reason I left them,¡± Lecne said. ¡°There¡¯s some good faithful there, some real great people. And there¡¯s also a lot of real asses. Frankly, if I were the Ominian, I¡¯d go on a smiting frenzy, but They have bigger myrvites to mangle, I suppose.¡±

    He taught her two of the secret phrases that priests used to indicate the layers of secret knowledge they knew. ¡°The holy vaults are very well guarded, though¡± he told her. ¡°The elite of the Luminate Guard are there, and in the heart of the Grand Sanctum, so there¡¯s only one way in. The Arcane Praetorians have their headquarters very close by, and they¡¯re all going to have wands of levitation and some serious spellpower. And orichalcum pieces, which I suppose you know about. And everyone knows soul magic. It¡¯s not like people walk around checking each other¡¯s souls, but¡­ well. I have no idea how you¡¯re going to do it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll figure it out,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I have a plan for how to do it safely. Relatively speaking. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll die a lot. But I¡¯m used to that, at this point.¡±

    ¡°What a strange world we live in,¡± Lecne said.

    Near the end of the cycle, Lecne helped her change the flow of her soul, binding it in several more key points. It took about two days for the changes to finish. Professor Marva seemed to know some trick that sped along the physical changes that resulted from soul modification, but Mirian wasn¡¯t worried. Two days would still put her ahead of the other time traveler¡¯s arrival.

    It was the strangest feeling. Before, her changes had all been superficial. Changing a few features and her hair color was only disorienting when she looked in the mirror, but it didn¡¯t fundamentally change her body. Modifying her soul so that her body presented as a man¡¯s, though, changed everything about how she felt. Her body moved differently, felt different, and every time she opened her mouth to talk, the voice that came out surprised her¡ªnever mind the change in sexual organs.

    ¡°Standing up to pee is so weird,¡± she complained. ¡°It would have made the trip to Frostland¡¯s Gate easier, though. I¡¯ve had enough squatting in the woods for a lifetime.¡±

    ¡°You should try pissing off the roof of a building while drunk,¡± Lecne said. When he saw her face, he could only laugh. ¡°It¡¯s a feeling of pure liberation! Also, a Cairnmouth tradition you¡¯ve no doubt smelled. Oh, don¡¯t worry, I haven¡¯t actually done it in years. When I was a youth, though, my morals didn¡¯t pester me as much.¡±

    ¡°Gods above,¡± she muttered. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ve decided. I¡¯m not going to stop the moon falling, I¡¯m just going to make sure it lands on this city in particular.¡±

    Lecne laughed again.

    Near the end of the cycle, as they watched the end from the rooftops again, he said, ¡°Have you decided on a new name for your disguise?¡±

    ¡°Micael,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Ah, one of the saints,¡± Lecne said. ¡°A good name. Wear it well.¡± As the eruptions intensified, he added, softly, ¡°And the Gods watch over you.¡±

    ***

    It was a relief to wake up in her own body. She didn¡¯t particularly look forward to the changes that would take place over the next two days, but she¡¯d have to prepare for them. She started the cycle by buying new clothes, then relaxing in the gardens as the first changes crept up on her. First, she used a phantom mirror spell to help cut her hair. Then, she watched the sigil bees move about the winterblooms and the birds murmur calls to themselves as they carefully flitted about the brush and branches.

    Even as her body changed around her, she still thought of herself as she. Everything about the change would take getting used to. But, she reasoned, it would make it even harder for Sulvorath to find her.

    She made her usual combat wand, killed the bog lion in the catacombs, retrieved the levitation wand, orichalcum, and focus as usual, then hunted down bone rats and stonemoles to attune her orichalcum, since by taking a break in the gardens she¡¯d missed the window of opportunity to siphon the captured wyverns in the Myrvite Studies building.

    That night, she pilfered one of Mayor Wolden¡¯s fake gold ingots, then implemented part one of her plan to monitor Sulvorath: she torched all the records in the Torrviol Academy¡¯s registrar. She timed her attack so that the midnight train had already started moving south towards Cairnmouth, set the fire, then used her wand of levitation to escape. She moved fast southward until she¡¯d caught the moving train, then quietly landed on the back balcony of the caboose and then just as quietly found a sleeper car that she knew from experience would be empty. Picking the lock with raw force magic was trivial.

    She slept for a few hours, then spent the early morning taking the arcane catalyst out of her spellbook and rebinding it, a task she was thoroughly sick of, and scribing a few useful spells, which she was also sick of. It was one of those things that was too easy to be interesting, but just difficult enough that it took a great deal of attention and effort.

    At Cairnmouth, she got off and made a bank account with the Florinian ingot, withdrawing a hundred gold doubloons. She didn¡¯t want to withdraw any more mostly because it would be annoying to carry, and it was more than enough  money to buy whatever she needed this cycle.

    She stopped by the cult to assign them her monitoring plan.

    ¡°You¡¯ll save Arenthia¡­ but in a different cycle?¡± Lecne said, and she could feel the despair in his voice.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said.

    ¡°The execution is at noon. There¡¯s still time¡ª¡±

    ¡°My best friend will be cut to pieces by Akanan soldiers. Her sister will be devoured alive by monsters in the Labyrinth. My mentor will be slaughtered like an animal by Akanan spies. Another friend will hold his knight in his arms as she dies, trapped in a broken train car until myrvites devour him alive. There¡¯s a man by the train tracks on the way to my home village who gets his head eaten by a drake. Maybe if I went down fast enough, I could save him. Maybe he¡¯s got a family at home, and they never know what happened to him. Maybe they find out, and his daughter has to live with that for an entire month. Maybe he¡¯s a nobody with no family left. I know their suffering is temporary, but I also know it¡¯s real. But every cycle, I have to live with who I let suffer, and who I let live,¡± she snapped, the rage coming on her so suddenly that her hands started to tremble.

    She closed her eyes, and steadied her breathing. ¡°When it matters, she¡¯ll be with you. I gave you my word, and I intend to keep it. But there¡¯s an¡­ inhumanity to what I have to do. I have to be efficient. I have to make every hour count. And that means¡ªyou know what it means. I am sorry.¡±

    Lecne blinked back a tear. ¡°No, I¡­ I¡¯m being selfish. You¡¯re right.¡± He looked at the papers full of instructions Mirian had given her. ¡°We¡¯ll do what we can, then send the zephyr falcon with what we learn.¡±

    Mirian thanked him, then deployed the few ¡®seeds of chaos¡¯ she¡¯d had time to make on the roof. By now, the design was quite efficient, and they didn¡¯t take much time or many materials to make.

    The cult would also help spread the rumor around that she was in Cairnmouth, which would hopefully lure Sulvorath or his proxies down where they could be identified.

    After lunch, she took the next train to Palendurio, studying a map from the privacy of one of the ¡®comfort¡¯ rooms the trains had. The plush cushions of the seat and the small writing desk were the main draws for Mirian, and the cost didn¡¯t matter.

    There was a lot she could learn: how the war conspiracy went down, the leyline collapse dynamics, and books in the Great Library that were rare enough even Bainrose didn¡¯t have them. Her first priority would be to learn the normal patterns of the cycle when it had no major changes, like she had in Frostland¡¯s Gate. But what she really wanted to know was if Arenthia had been right about the Sword of the Fourth Prophet.

    As the towers and castles of Palendurio came into view, her anticipation grew. There would be so much to learn, and she already wanted to know it all.

 Chapter 105 - Palendurio

    Palendurio was built on an old karst landscape, so there were stone spires throughout the city that people had encircled with houses anchored into the rock, as well as large hills riddled with caves that had been colonized with structures. Professor Holvatti had gone on about it at some length in one of his lectures, but Mirian could only vaguely recall karst had something to do with limestone¡¯s solubility and cave formations. Palendurio had a long history of holes opening up and swallowing buildings, until the city finally hired enough geomancers and construction crews to turn the cave system beneath the city into an underground canal network. Once in a while, there would still be a sinkhole, but it was much rarer.

    The Magrio River ran through the center of the city, dividing the canals into the northern and southern networks. In between the smaller delivery rafts moving in and out of the cave-canal system were larger barges, moving upriver with spell engines as they transported cargo that had arrived on the Riverport docks at the west end of the city.

    During the Unification War, Palendurio had been sacked and burned twice, then rebuilt using more modern designs. Unlike Cairnmouth, it had broader avenues, and because a small army of barges moved about under the city, there was little cart traffic. Despite this, it still managed to have its own pungent smell.

    Palendurio was also much bigger. Spellwards had been protecting the city since their invention, so the city had long ago sprawled out beyond the tall medieval walls that surrounded the city core.

    The train settled to a halt at Riverport Station, just in front of the Grand Bridge that crossed the Magrio River. As people got off, the platform swarmed with people. Mirian waited a bit to disembark. Going from depopulated Frostland¡¯s Gate to the crowds of Palendurio was something of a shock. She then headed through the Chimera Gate into the inner city. Instantly, the city¡¯s architecture morphed from the more modern buildings to the medieval style, complete with gargoyles that loomed above at the tops of the limestone pillars that dotted the area. Some of them were actually preserved from that era, but most had simply been built to match the old architecture. Kingmont Hill, the largest lump of limestone in the city, loomed high above the streets.

    When her family had visited the city years ago, she had gawked at Charlem Palace atop that hill, seat of the now symbolic monarchy. Each of the dozen buildings that made up the palace were of gleaming white limestone, while the orange and white lion banners that draped down from the circular towers flapped proudly in the breeze. Elaborate calligraphy written in the ancient language Lorcadian framed the walls, done in a special orange paint that glimmered like something between bronze and gold in the sunlight. It was still beautiful, but it didn¡¯t stir her sense of awe like it once had.

    At the base of the hill, facing the river, was the Grand Sanctum. It was far more ancient than the palace above, but just as well cared for. Framing the colossal entry door were statues of the Elder Gods, decorated at great expense with onyx and colorful marble stonework. The inside, she knew, was even more elaborate. Somewhere inside lay old artifacts of the Prophets.

    Across the river was Ducastil, resting on a smaller bit of the karst formation atop sheer limestone cliffs. Once a proud castle, it had been refurbished with outdoor sculptures and a hanging garden. Its inside was now both the governor¡¯s mansion and hosted the parliamentary offices, though parliament itself met in a modern domed structure by the river.

    Just west of that was Tenedor Plaza, which hosted the embassies of Akana Praediar, Zhighua, and Tlaxhuaco. There were also three empty buildings that the three different Persaman governments had once occupied, though they had abandoned them even before the war broke out.

    On the 20th of Solem, she knew everyone in the Akanan embassy was scheduled to be slaughtered.

    Mirian took a room at the Bard and the Lion Inn. It was expensive because it had a balcony overlooking the river, but most importantly, it overlooked the entrance to the Grand Sanctum. Also, its location wasn¡¯t far from the embassies or parliament. There was a fancy bed with down pillows and a luxurious washroom that had a stone tub with its own fountain supplying it with fresh water. It was also the only kind of room they sold with an attached room that she could convert into a workshop.

    Mirian started by signing up on a list of pilgrims seeking prayer at the Grand Sanctum. She was told the wait was seven days, which she found acceptable. She had a late dinner, bought a few basic tools at the market, then reinforced her room¡¯s door with a magnetic repulsion ward. Then, she tried something new.

    She¡¯d gotten the orichalcum to resonate with her soul, meaning the spell resistance it provided was unidirectional. Obviously, it worked great when in contact with her body, and close proximity to her soul. But would it work even when separated from her? If so, how long?

    She used one of the metalworking tools she¡¯d purchased to shave off a small bit of orichalcum from the belt piece she was wearing, then used force magic to place it inside the door¡¯s locking mechanism. Even if it lost its resonance, it would still make using magic to force open the lock very difficult. Of course, someone could always break down the door. She wasn¡¯t going to bother reinforcing it. If she attracted that much attention, she¡¯d done something wrong, and would be levitating out of there in record time.

    Mirian knew only the outlines of how the attack on the Akanan Embassy would go down. She¡¯d read conflicting stories in newspapers carried up north by zephyr falcon, then heard from Mayor Ethwarn what he had been told by the Royal Couriers. The news that made it up to Cairnmouth was a bit faster to travel, but no less confused or sparse. Then, after a few days, all information coming from Palendurio had ceased, probably representing a break in the rail lines.

    There were several things she wanted to get information on this cycle: who were the guards that attacked the embassy, and why did they do it? Who ordered it? What happened to Governor Quintus Palamas, who was never heard from after the attack? What happened to King Aurelius Palamas? What was Parliament doing? What was the Department of Public Security doing? Were the retaliatory attacks on Akanan businesses spontaneous, or provoked? How did information about the attack propagate so rapidly to Akana Praediar?

    There was one thing Mirian was absolutely sure of: whatever answers she found would just lead to more questions. That seemed to be how things went.

    As Mirian walked around the streets of Palendurio, getting a sense of Tenedor Plaza and the security around the embassy, she noticed that people were looking at her differently in her changed body. For starters, men smiled at her a lot less. Other men¡ªusually on the heavier side¡ªseemed to deliberately ignore her existence, even as they bumped into her. Changing her apparent gender had done nothing to change her stature, so it was easy to get jostled by a crowd, which was quite annoying.

    And crowds there were in Palendurio. Unlike Cairnmouth, where she only heard Baracueli languages unless she went by the docks, Palendurio had people from all over, speaking Eskanar, languages from the semi-autonomous republics, Adamic, Tlaxa, and Gulwenen. Hearing two Zhighuan traders speak the latter language instantly made Mirian think of Jei.

    Once she¡¯d scouted the outside of the Akanan Embassy, she made her way to Ducastil. The governor¡¯s mansion was in the old keep of the castle, which was surrounded by the smaller buildings where various parliamentary representatives had their offices. The walls had long since been torn down, and a spell engine pumping system brought water up into long aqueducts that split apart like petals, each running through elaborate hanging gardens. Only the myrvite flowers were blooming this late in the season, which meant at least one of the garden tenders was an arcanist. Graceful stone bridges connected the buildings to each other, and she could see several well-dressed people looking out from those bridges at the view below.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    The Palendurio Guard patrolled the area regularly. The cobblestone streets here were as clean as any Mirian had seen. Several stairs spiraled around the natural limestone pillars and cliffs that the Ducastil complex rested on, leading up to the buildings and gardens. Two guards were posted at each staircase, and anyone attempting to go up the stairs had to talk to them first. Only someone like a member of parliament was waved through.

    Mirian headed back to the market to buy more supplies. Throughout the evening, she worked on divination spells, including divination detection spells and a device for measuring arcane energy flow in an area.

    She returned to Ducastil first in the evening. Since standing around casting divination spells would immediately bring the guard down on her, she used minor illusion on her spellbook to make it look like a boring treatise on the construction of furniture. Then, she could sit on a nearby bench and flip through the pages.

    The first problem she encountered was that there was a fairly sophisticated divination suppression ward, maintained by spell engines up in Ducastil. It worked by targeting a subset of glyphs commonly used in divination spells, so she was able to cast a few detection spells by avoiding those specific glyphs. At her range¡ªsome hundred meters¡ªshe wasn¡¯t getting good information, but she could tell most of the standard guard wards were in place. At least one ward would detect illusions, and if the designers had any sense, it would also trigger an alarm. Most importantly, she could tell that the ward was using some sort of glyphkey detection system. Merely using a disguise would be insufficient; she would need to either make or steal one of the proper glyphkeys.

    It seemed like a huge hassle.

    She started working on probing the wards of the Akanan Embassy next, but as soon as she did, her detection device registered a change in the magical currents. She¡¯d triggered some sort of alarm.

    Mirian stood up and walked away, casually, then ducked through an alley to make sure she wasn¡¯t being followed. The embassy appeared to have extremely robust anti-divination wards, including an alarm system in place to let people know when it detected divination magic, which couldn¡¯t be cheap to maintain. The embassy also had its own guards.

    Whoever is running the attack must have needed to plan it for some time, she thought.

    Her next stop was the Royal Couriers.

    ¡°Do you have a list of the names and addresses of the people in the Akanan Embassy?¡± she asked.

    The man behind the counter looked at her, eyes narrowing. ¡°No. They¡¯re not Baracueli citizens. And, they¡¯re protected by quite a few treaties.¡±

    Mirian sighed. ¡°Sorry, I have a friend from Akana who got an appointment at the embassy, and I was so excited to see her, but now I don¡¯t know her address. Do you know how I¡¯d get it?¡±

    The man sighed, suspicion evaporating. ¡°You go to the Akanan Embassy,¡± he said.

    ¡°Well, that does make a lot of sense,¡± Mirian said, smiling.

    The man shook his head as she left.

    She wasn¡¯t quite ready to head into the embassy because she wasn¡¯t sure what Sulvorath had instructed his people to do or what to look for, and an appointment that happened only in one cycle might be suspicious. Likely, he didn¡¯t know the cycles that well¡ªit had seemed to have taken him several cycles to be able to manipulate Specter into cursing her¡ªbut there was no reason to risk it.

    One of the advantages to having so many people from all over was that the restaurants had diversity. She was able to find one that employed a chef from Alkazaria, which was a godsend. He spiced the food just like she remembered from back home, and she found herself wistfully remembering her family. By now, it had been years since she¡¯d seen them. She felt the urge to visit Granpa Irabi again, but she didn¡¯t want to risk getting too close to the southern time traveler. In a few days, their armies would be threatening Alkazaria again, and she had no information on how they were deploying their spies or scouts and what kind of capabilities they had.

    And since Sulvorath knew her name, he no doubt had his proxies looking for anyone in the ¡°Castrella¡± family, and searching for them might send a signal. No, it would be better merely to dream of that reunion. Too much was at stake to actually attempt it.

    After dinner, Mirian spent several hours working on a new spell. She combined the coordinate systems that major disguise used to create a spell that wrapped around the caster with absorb light, light detection map and project light map. The latter two spells were generally used to build an astronomical spell engine for teaching students, but Mirian had a different use for them.

    Combining spells wasn¡¯t a simple matter of just mushing all the glyphs together. She had to sequence them just right, changing up binding points, altering the mental component, and then adding linking glyphs so that the flux glyphs in the spell weren¡¯t changed by the new patterns. The new spell was significantly more complex than the sum of its parts, but her precise scribing techniques had been honed more than any other skill at this point, so the spell only just fit on a single page.

    She tried it out that night.

    With her spellbook turned to her new spell and the levitation wand in her offhand, Mirian went out to her balcony and cast it. The absorb light portion created a veil of shadow around her, while the astronomical spells detected the light patterns above her and then re-projected them within the veil. She was pleased to see that it worked. Though she stuck out like a sore thumb on the balcony, once she was up in the air, she¡¯d be well camouflaged. Even hunting spells that let people see infrared light wouldn¡¯t work because she¡¯d used enhancement runes to broaden the absorption profile of the absorb light portion.

    As she levitated herself above Palendurio, she decided to call her new spell night camouflage.

    Levitation was still a taxing drain on her mana, but she was able to spend a full hour scouting out the Ducastil ground. More importantly, she confirmed what she¡¯d hoped: they had absolutely no defenses against flying. That would save her some time.

    The next morning, she picked up several news broadsheets and skimmed them all for any important details. There were stories about bar fights, ships arriving to port, another regiment getting shipped off to Persama, gossip about the wealthy at a gala, and a report on the monthly ceremony held by Pontiff Oculo. None of it seemed out of the ordinary.

    One paper seemed purely dedicated to gossip about the noble families. The Palamas featured the most prominently because¡ªwell, the family had a king and governor, so of course¡ªbut the Bardas, Allard, Corrmier, and Sacristar families all were mentioned. It was strange to see Nicolus¡¯s father, Marduke Sacristar, in the newspapers. Apparently, he and General Kallin Corrmier had an argument at a fancy dinner in Charlem Palace. How that was news, she didn¡¯t know.

    Whatever was going to happen, she suspected it would be easier to disentangle closer to the actual events. Then, once she¡¯d figured out the most proximal events to the massacre, she could follow those threads back in time as far as she could.

    Until then, she could continue her research on the Sword of the Fourth Prophet. She headed for the Great Library of Palendurio to scour the archives.

 Chapter 106 - The Grand Sanctum

    Some recent law had made the Great Library remove all the modern maps of ¡®secure buildings¡¯ like Parliament and the Grand Sanctum, but Mirian used the trick she¡¯d learned in Torrviol of scouring old, disorganized shelves for outdated editions. Sure enough, no one had bothered pulling every book in the basement stacks, and she was able to find a very boring treatise on historic architecture that had maps to go along with it. The Akanan Embassy was too new to get this treatment, but the Grand Sanctum was older than even the Second Prophet, so there was a lot written about it.

    In a violation of one of her deeply held ethical beliefs, Mirian simply tore the pages she needed out of the book and folded them up in her pocket. She winced as she did it, but it was so much more efficient, and then there would be no risk the librarian would realize the mistake and refuse to lend the book out.

    She next found an onerous looking tome on the Fourth Prophet that Arenthia had mentioned, but she hadn¡¯t been able to locate up in Cairnmouth. It was written in archaic Cuelsin, which made it a pain to read or even skim. She ended up borrowing it just so she could spread the misery of deciphering it out over the course of a few more days.

    Mirian next spent some time eating lunch across the river from the Grand Sanctum, using an eagle eye spell to watch people come and go. There was robust security outside the entrance, but it also had hundreds of people going and leaving every hour, including whole gaggles of pilgrims and faithful. There was a daily sermon, too. Getting in would be easy.

    It was sneaking into the secure areas in back that would be significantly harder.

    She went to a tailor¡¯s shop.

    ¡°My brother just joined the Order as an acolyte,¡± she said. ¡°I wanted to get him another set of robes to wear. How long would that take to make?¡±

    ¡°How sweet,¡± the woman who ran the shop said, paging through her orders.

    ¡°Well, and that way he can wash them more regularly.¡± Mirian cleared her throat. ¡°You know.¡±

    The woman snorted, stifling a laugh. ¡°Looks like it¡¯ll take about two days. Do you have his measurements?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re identical twins,¡± she said, then held still as the woman measured her. She thanked her, then left.

    She spent the rest of that day and the next analyzing the wards around the Grand Sanctum. It was tedious, but at least this part of the plan she¡¯d only have to do once. Then, she went to one of the daily sermons, just so she could get a better sense of the layout. There was a big difference between looking at a blueprint and being in a place.

    The huge cave the Grand Sanctum was built into had been shaped by thousands of years of devout hands. Stalactites and stalagmites had been carved into beautiful totems paying tribute to the Saints, while the walls of the cave had been carefully chiseled and sculpted into reliefs of the Elder Gods creating Enteria, and then fighting for its preservation.

    Walking into it was awe inspiring. The walls of the cave in the main sanctum were some 200 feet tall, and so the reliefs of the Gods hiding among the carved stalactites made it seem like she was being watched by giants as she entered, especially because the flickering torchlight that illuminated the cavern cast moving shadows on them.

    Here, Eintocarst led a group of monstrous beasts forward holding his blazing lantern. There, Shiamagoth held his arms in front of a group of cowering humans, shielding them from a colossal creature. Even Carkavakom was depicted, razing an entire city to the ground. Mirian had always hated depictions of that God. His cloak of skulls and faces locked in endless screams had disturbed her as a child, going even beyond the usual disturbing imagery that the Elder Gods were shown with. But, it was appropriate enough for a deity associated with law and fear.

    Of course, it was the Ominian whose statue stood tall behind the altar, impaled by a dozen blades, but unbroken. Upon his head was the crown of laurels, carved in malachite. Interspersed in the stone laurels were torches that burned green, which made the Ominian¡¯s head glow with an eldritch looking halo. Professor Seneca probably knew what sort of chemistry trick they were using to get that result.

    Mirian took her seat on one of the benches as the crowds filtered in. The benches were also carved directly out of the cave¡¯s limestone, polished by a thousand years of use.

    She let her eyes wander around the room, ignoring the people around her. Two Luminate Guards dressed in ceremonial armor stood by the entrance, and another two by the door behind the altar. If her maps were correct, that back passage led to the Eight Shrines that pilgrims visited¡ªand also to the holy vaults.

    Around the cavern, there were openings at different heights. Once, they had been connecting caves, but they had long since turned into balconies and halls. A few of those caves opened up by the floor, where they led to the living quarters and prayer rooms of the Luminates who lived in the Grand Sanctum. That network of tunnels and rooms was complicated, as it was in three interconnecting layers, and since the construction had followed the pattern of the cave network, the passages constantly switched among the levels. Navigating that was possibly more annoying than even the Torrviol Underground.

    And yet, the maps seemed to indicate that it was possible to get to the vault from those rooms as well, and it would be easier.

    Mirian had torn out two divination spells from her book so she could keep them in her coat. She started with her focus though. As the sermon began, her gaze unfocused as she meditated, letting her soul-sense cast out into the room.

    There were indeed runes laid about throughout the room. They were on doorways, at the base of the statues, and in the altar. They were embedded in the floor, and hanging from the artistically carved stalactites. Their signal felt¡­ weak, though. It seemed to her they¡¯d been poorly maintained, like how an uncharged ward would leak power away until it became inert.

    Mirian risked channeling the divination spell detect nyelu resonance. She¡¯d chosen it because anti-divination wards usually targeted key detection spells that were looking for a different subset of glyphs. She already knew the Ducastil alarms and wards by the entrance of the Sanctum wouldn¡¯t pick it up. She let a soft trickle of mana flow into the glyphs of the paper. The pulse went out.

    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    Nyelu glyphs were a mainstay static glyph, used to change the functions of flux glyphs. It was used in a large number of spells and wards. The pages that contained her own came back as positive immediately. In the rest of the room, she could begin to sense that there were nyelu glyphs behind her at the front entrance, which she already knew, but she also detected them at each of the doors.

    Just the doors? she thought.

    The bishop spoke passionately as she continued to survey the room. ¡°¡­many say, why worship Carkavakom? Are not destruction and fear things to be hated, to be avoided? Here, the Fourth Prophet¡¯s words help us clarify our interpretation of the worship of such a God. He writes, ¡®I have seen Carkavakom, and I have seen his jawless Unmoored. In their speechless voice, they spoke to me, and thus, I understood Carkavakom¡¯s reason. A law must be enforced, or it is meaningless. Is it not law that holds our society together? What must be done to those who break it with impunity?¡¯¡±

    Mirian continued to scan the room, this time with her second divination spell, targeting a different static glyph. The feedback she got seemed to indicate the same areas. That was to be expected; the Luminates weren¡¯t supposed to use magic at all, but she already knew from the Temple of the Four that they would for security.

    The bishop was still talking. ¡°¡®¡­just as the guard enforces the law of the King, the Elder Gods must have one who binds all. Even the Prophets are bound by this higher law. No exception can be made. Thus I say, I am bound¡­.¡¯ He goes on, but the point is made. How can we love the whip or the cudgel, the jail or the shackle? And yet, is it not what truly binds society together? This is a difficult perspective to grasp, but we must reflect¡­¡±

    The security was lax, though. There seemed to be no wards on the balconies at all. And the long shadows and flickering light of the room? It was perfect. The camouflage spell she¡¯d made for flying at night had worked better than she¡¯d expected. If she could use the same basic spell formula, but have the projection taking in information from all sides instead of just up¡­

    Mirian¡¯s thoughts drifted away from the bishop¡¯s sermon and towards spell design. She started visualizing glyph sequences.

    ***

    Mirian kept to her room the next day. Scribing such a complex spell would take two, possibly three whole pages, which meant consuming a considerable amount of expensive magical inks.

    Her first attempt at the spell she was calling total camouflage was a disaster. She tried to get light projection information from six different directions, which seemed to work. When she tried to re-project that light, the light information clashed at the edges of the six boundaries, creating bright white lines that surrounded her like frozen lightning. It was a neat effect, but the opposite of hiding.

    Her next attempt tried to mitigate this by defining the projection boundaries more precisely, but she quickly realized something like that would require hundreds of distinct coordinates, and the spell would end up being some twenty pages. Casting such a complex spell was a non-starter. A spell-engine might manage such complexity, but carrying around a spell engine of the size she¡¯d need would be just as unwieldy.

    After four more attempts, she ended up ditching the camouflage idea entirely, to be worked on another time. By then, she¡¯d emptied several ink bottles, so went off to grab dinner (having skipped lunch) and resupplied at a different magic shop. No need for anyone to get suspicious about the amount of ink she was buying. As always, she kept an eye out for irregularities, people following her, or abnormal soul modifications. So far, her paranoia had been unnecessary, but since making a mistake might mean ending up incapacitated for all future loops, she was more than willing to be overly cautious.

    The next day, after several iterations, she landed on using an elongated oval (which was easy to map the coordinates of, taking only two glyphs for defining the dimensions and center point) as the outer boundary of a light absorption spell that terminated around the outer layer of her body (which used the glyphs that let an illusion adhere to someone¡¯s form). Since the light absorption was gradual, it wouldn¡¯t stand out so much, especially in the dark and inconsistent light of the sanctum. It was a pity the application was so limited, but it would accomplish what she needed it to. She decided to call the spell hide in shadows.

    Mirian arrived at the Grand Sanctum the next day, dressed in the simple clothes of a pilgrim. Beneath those clothes, though, was the robe she¡¯d had the tailor make, and she¡¯d hidden a wand and several spell sheets beneath her clothes, tied to her arms and legs by soft cord.

    They waited outside the entrance until most of the pilgrims scheduled for their visit showed up, then a priest and a Luminate Guard escorted them to the shrines.

    The shrines were beyond resplendent. Each one had yet another statue of the Elder God, but the altars and walls were dripping with rare jewels and gold wire. It bothered Mirian. The point of the Luminate Order wasn¡¯t to hoard wealth, but to serve the people and the Gods. What purpose did the gold and gems serve? Beauty could be found in simpler materials.

    Still, she said her prayers and went through the rituals at each of the ten shrines. Her questions to the Gods were real. She wished they could just tell her what she needed to do next, and how to stop this all.

    After three hours of prayers, the group began making its way to the exit, back through the central hall behind the altar. Mirian moved with the group, checking to see where the priest and the guard escorting them were as she moved.

    The guard stopped by the entrance to the hall behind the altar, while the priest continued to lead the group out. Mirian lingered in the back of the group, then stepped out of the central aisle, using one of the carved stalagmites to break line of sight with the guard. She double checked to make sure no one in the group was looking back at her and that no one was watching from the balconies, then cast her hide in shadows spell.

    Then, she used the wand of levitation to zip up into the ceiling.

    There, among the flickering shadows, she slowly moved sideways. People rarely looked up, and her slow movement combined with the shadow spell meant that she would avoid standing out in the guard¡¯s peripheral vision. As she moved towards one of the higher balconies, she checked to see if the guard or any of the pilgrims were looking her way.

    They weren¡¯t.

    Mirian landed on the balcony, then listened intently. As she suspected, the balconies weren¡¯t warded like the doors were. After all, they weren¡¯t expecting anyone who could fly.

    Hearing no footsteps in the tunnel, she crept forward, then took off her shirt and trousers so the Luminate robe she was wearing underneath her clothes could unfurl. She stuffed the shirt and trousers in a dark nook of the tunnel. If there was one thing that was consistent across all the west Baracuel temples, it was that they loved their temples poorly lit.

    Mirian dismissed the hide in shadows spell. Now, she should just look like another acolyte. There were several hundred acolytes serving in the Grand Sanctum at any one time, and Lecne had told her they were constantly having people come and go as the temple reshuffled its people around the country. Hopefully, she would be just another new face in a temple full of new faces.

    She headed down the twisting passage to see what she could find.

 Chapter 107 - Walking In Shadows

    Mirian found herself moving down, then up, then spiraling around, then going down again. She passed several rooms with closed doors, trying in vain to place where she was on the map she¡¯d studied, but the cave network of the Grand Sanctum had rapidly disoriented her.

    Soon enough she passed other acolytes and murmured the Ominian¡¯s first prayer to them as they passed. When she saw a priest, she had to say, ¡°Let Their words still echo,¡± which was the second prayer. For a bishop, it was, ¡°Carry Their memory.¡± She thought it must get old to hear those words again and again, but they were a core part of the Luminate tradition. She supposed they probably got used to it, and after a while, probably sounded as natural as ¡®hello.¡¯ Thankfully, no one noticed anything odd about her.

    As she passed the Hall of Remembrance, she realized she¡¯d gone too far west, so took a right, but that hall ended up spiraling until it hit a staircase, then the hall went south again. She needed to go north.

    She turned around, and nearly collided with a man who had been behind her. ¡°My apologies.¡± Shit, a bishop, she thought. ¡°Carry Their memory,¡± she muttered, and went to move past him.

    ¡°Another new face!¡± the bishop said. ¡°A recent arrival?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± she said.

    ¡°Ah. From where?¡±

    Mirian hesitated. ¡°Alkazaria,¡± she said, figuring that, statistically speaking, there were plenty of people arriving from the second largest temple complex regularly.

    ¡°Of course. I should have guessed. And you are lost, I assume.¡±

    She smiled. ¡°I¡¯m afraid so.¡±

    ¡°You must be looking for lunch. The Hall of Bonding is this way. I was just heading there myself. I know this tunnel looks like it goes the wrong way, but it actually has a slight curve to it, and links up with the main hall.¡± He chuckled. ¡°You get used to all the twists and turns. Eventually. You are¡­?¡±

    ¡°Oh! Micael,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Ah, a good name. I¡¯m Bishop Lancel.¡±

    She didn¡¯t actually want to go to lunch with him, but she didn¡¯t exactly have a good excuse not to. A bishop, unlike an acolyte, would know the routines of the temple too well. Besides, the more I learn about this place, the easier it will be to infiltrate again.

    Fortunately, Lancel didn¡¯t interrogate her, just started rambling about little tricks he¡¯d learned on how to navigate the temple, which Mirian only half-listened to, and how he liked to get to know all the acolytes in the temple, even if their stay was brief. Soon enough, though, they were entering the main hall. Here, a larger section of the cave had been turned into architecture that was actually fathomable. From the map, she knew living quarters were west of them, the sanctum she¡¯d come in from southeast, and the instructional rooms east. Again, the gaudiness of the decorations bothered her. Gold leaf brushed the murals and statues, while the chandeliers above had gleaming crystals. The hall had several glass display cases full of bejeweled instruments of the Elder Gods, including chalices, spikes, lanterns, and chains.

    ¡°¡­and that mural above was painted by the great Giosulla, after he met the Third Prophet. And here we are, the Hall of Bonding.¡±

    Most people would just call it a cafeteria, Mirian thought. For all the deep secrets of the Order, in the end they were human. A dining hall by any other name felt the same, and though the conversation was quieter and more restrained, it still had the same atmosphere as any other hall she¡¯d eaten in.

    The fare was, unsurprisingly, vegetarian, and as usual with western Baracuel cooking, had a dire need for some more spices. It wasn¡¯t terrible, though. The chefs clearly had some talent in sauteing the vegetables, and the bread wasn¡¯t the best sourdough she¡¯d ever had, but it was somewhere near the top.

    Lancel, it turned out, was extremely talkative. He rambled on quite a bit about the petty goings on of the temple. ¡°You¡¯ve started communing with the celestial?¡± he asked.

    Lecne had told her that was code for ¡®know rune magic.¡¯ The Luminate Order apparently didn¡¯t even like to use language that was too similar to that used by arcane scholars. ¡°I have,¡± Mirian admitted. And how exactly did the Order and the magi become such separate entities? Imagine what would have been achieved if they¡¯d worked together.

    ¡°Amazing, isn¡¯t it? Well, maybe not yet. It will probably take a few more months of communing with your soul before you manage anything. Most people achieve their first blessing within the second year.¡±

    ¡°Oh, does it take that long?¡± Mirian asked. Does it really? She knew she¡¯d progressed fast in soul magic, but didn¡¯t realize it had been that fast. Of course, none of the acolytes were likely to have a foundational understanding in arcane magic. The two forms weren¡¯t fundamentally different, so her training at Torrviol had likely given her an edge.

    ¡°Usually. Some manage it faster. Some slower. The Gods bless us all differently, and their pattern is never clear. Which reminds me¡ª¡±

    Another acolyte had walked up to the table, though. ¡°Carry Their memory, holy one. Bishop Lancel, I apologize if I¡¯ve interrupted you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not at all!¡± He narrowed his eyes. ¡°Starts with¡­ hmm¡­ no, don¡¯t tell me. Hamel! It is Hamel, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Yes, holy one,¡± Hamel said. He had dark hair, and from his complexion and accent, probably was east Baracueli like Mirian. ¡°If I may speak in private with you? It concerns a matter of temple finance.¡±

    Bishop Lancel frowned. ¡°¡®The ledgers of the Order should be an open book.¡¯ Second Prophet. There are things worth keeping secret, but the temple¡¯s money is not one of them.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± said Hamel, glancing at Mirian a bit distrustfully. He lowered his voice then said, ¡°My assigned duty this month was to transcribe a copy of the ledgers. I¡­ before joining, I worked as an accountant for the Tailor¡¯s Guild, so it is something I am quite familiar with. So you see, I am quite proficient at noticing suspicious entries.¡±

    ¡°Yes?¡± said Bishop Lancel, who was still smiling.

    Strange. He surely understands what Hamel is implying, but isn¡¯t bothered by it? Or is it just his demeanor?

    ¡°There are¡­ a lot of suspicious entries. I made a copy of them.¡± He handed three sheets of paper to the bishop. Mirian couldn¡¯t help but notice the total on the bottom of the front sheet was 351 doubloons.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure someone made an honest mistake. You talked to Priest Treyul already?¡±

    ¡°I did, and he did not want to listen to what I had to say. Which is concerning. These do not seem like the kind of mistakes one could make on accident. Usually, when something like this happens, it¡¯s because¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll look into it,¡± Lancel said. ¡°You have my word.¡±

    Acolyte Hamel gave a small nod, then his shoulders visibly relaxed. ¡°Thank you, holy one.¡±

    ¡°Only our duty,¡± the bishop replied. ¡°Sorry to interrupt our conversation, Micael, but it was good meeting you.¡± Bishop Lancel stood, papers in hand. He paused midway through the aisle, then made for one of the doors. Then he paused and made for another one. Hamel left, glancing back at Mirian.

    Mirian waited for them both to leave, then cleared their dishes and made for the exit herself. Part of her wasn¡¯t surprised there was corruption in the Luminate Order. Another part of her was crushed. The faithful the Ominian calls to are supposed to be the best of us, she mourned.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Now that she¡¯d found the main living quarters, it was easier to orient herself. She surreptitiously checked for both arcane glyphs and celestial runes. Her divination spell pointed her back towards the kitchen. Apparently, the ban on glyphs hadn¡¯t extended to cooking. That made sense; ventilating the smoke from the candles and torches was annoying enough. Having to use a bunch of smoking fuel to cook for that many people would be a real pain. And yet, it¡¯s a holy tenet of the Order. What lets them pick and choose what they follow?

    It took her another fifteen minutes to find the holy vaults, mostly because she got turned around again and had to double back. New acolytes getting lost was, it seemed, a usual rite of passage.

    The entrance to the holy vaults looked more like a catacomb than a sacred place. Eight niches around the doors were stacked high with bones, sacred prayers inscribed on each. The chandelier above was also made of bone, each candle on it burning with a golden flame. Unlike the mundane torches the Order usually used, these were runework, she could tell instantly. It took effort for her not to start studying them immediately. This was the first instance she¡¯d seen of soul magic used to create fire.

    The entrances to the vaults themselves looked like the entrances to tombs. There were seven doors between the eight bone niches, each entrance reinforced by granite, and each door solid stone with no obvious handle or mechanism. Unlike the faded runework in other parts of the Sanctum, the runes here were freshly powered.

    In a central piece of stonework above the door were carved the words: We spread your grace; we remember your light.

    Four Luminate Guards stood statue-still by the doors.

    One took a ritually measured step forward. ¡°I am Everad, and I stand guard. State your purpose.¡±

    Once again, Mirian was thankful for Lecne¡¯s instructions. ¡°I am Micael, and I come to pray, and to seek Their light.¡± And with that, she knelt on one of the worn carpets on the floor and bowed her head.

    The guard took a step back, becoming statue still again.

    The nice thing was, Mirian didn¡¯t actually need to see to be able to study the magic around her. She had become quite adept at sensing, and so as she knelt, she embraced the focus and cast her gaze out. Several of the runes were unfamiliar to her. Several of them she knew, which meant she at least had some idea as to the function of the others.

    She spent an hour in this position, in which time acolytes and priests came and went. Finally, she decided staying any longer might look suspicious, so she left, murmuring a prayer to the guards.

    Mirian would have loved to head to one of the classes where they taught acolytes more about runes, but Lecne has assured her that was a terrible idea. Celestial magic was one of the great secrets of the Luminates, and they guarded it jealously. The names of all acolytes to be trained were checked against a ledger, and the training classes were small so a strange face would be noticed. Besides, Arenthia and Lecne already taught me most of what they¡¯d be learning. Given the runes and celestial flow patterns she¡¯d just seen by the vaults, though, she was sure there were more secrets to be uncovered.

    As evening fell, Mirian finally left the same way she¡¯d entered so she could pick up her clothes on the way out. She picked a time when the sanctum room was empty and levitated down, then simply walked out the front door in her acolyte robe. The guards didn¡¯t care much who was leaving.

    All in all, it had been quite a successful infiltration.

    ***

    The next day, Mirian visited several different shops to buy supplies for her artifice. She missed having the tools of the Torrviol crafting stations available to her, but in the end, shape wood, shape metal, and Jei¡¯s crystal spinner spells could accomplish most of what she needed, even if that made the work far more mana intensive.

    Her first task was to create a soul repository, but already she could anticipate a problem with making more progress on her knowledge of celestial runes. Many of the foundational runes could be crafted with any soul energy, but certain runes needed a specific type of soul energy.

    From the different resonance she could detect from the runes in the sanctum, she would certainly need a specific type of soul energy to craft the new runes. In Cairnmouth or Frostland¡¯s Gate, this could be easily solved by simply binding and killing the kind of myrvite she needed. Both were in abundance, either due to Numo¡¯s smuggling or the fact that Frostland¡¯s Gate was in, well, the frostlands.

    Here in Palendurio, she had no such contact, and no easy access. She couldn¡¯t just mash all the souls she acquired in a repository; the resonance of the energy would change and average out, making any special myrvite souls she collected just as generic as the soul energy of a fish.

    Mirian spent the rest of the day designing a new kind of soul repository that had multiple ¡®storage¡¯ chambers where she could differentiate soul energy. This ended up being hideously complex, and she spent a second day reworking the design just to get two chambers. In the end, even all her design lessons with Torres couldn¡¯t crack the problem. She decided it would be easier to just have multiple repositories that weren¡¯t linked to each other until she could come up with a solution. That would be unwieldy, annoying to make in multiples, and resource-intensive, but she had already figured out how to miniaturize the repositories to some extent. It would have to do for now.

    The next morning, she took a trip to the fisherman¡¯s market down where the river met one of the busier southern canal entrances. There, she could purchase live fish and bring them back to her room at the Bard and the Lion Inn, where she could then butcher them for her runework in peace. This gave her the initial energy she needed for the first set of runes.

    This stank up the room something fierce, but she scribed cleanse stench so she could cast that before anyone could complain, then gave the fish (and a bundle of spices) to the inn¡¯s chef so he could make a proper east Baracuel fish stew.

    ¡°Eastern barbarians,¡± the chef joked with her, but he accepted her tip of silver coins and promised the dish would be ready by dinner time.

    Once she had her first soul repository, she could simply walk down to the fisherman¡¯s market and complete bindings on any fish about to meet its end until the repository was fully charged. All she had to do was make sure no priests were around, and her work was invisible.

    She ended up making four soul repositories, which she hid inside an artisan¡¯s knapsack. Then she went hunting for myrvites. No spellward would ever keep out the smaller vermin, so she thought she could at least get a few bone rats and maybe some copper beetles.

    She used the celestial soul sight spell to help narrow her search. Seeing souls in a city as dense as Palendurio immediately gave her a headache, so she headed down to the underground canals where there weren¡¯t so many damned people. Below, there were still merchants and teamsters moving around goods and the occasional passengers, but the canals were much more manageable. There were walkways along the canals for when rafts needed a team of mules to pull them through and to maintain the channels, so she walked along those.

    She quickly located a nest of bone rats through the wall, then waited for the canal near her to be empty of boats before she bound and butchered them. Unfortunately, it probably wasn¡¯t the right type of soul for the new runes she¡¯d seen down in the holy vaults, so she wandered about.

    A large cluster of different souls caught her soul sight¡¯s senses, and Mirian investigated, only to find that the souls were behind a wall of some sort. She circled around several different passages, but there seemed to be no way in.

    I know what that means, she thought. It had to be a smuggling operation, and somewhere, there¡¯d be a hidden passage. She scanned the walls with divination, first locating the anti-divination wards (which obviously weren¡¯t very good), then once she¡¯d disabled those, found the mechanism on the other side of the door and used a telekinetic spell to open it.

    As she entered, four gruff looking men all looked up from their work at once, right at her.

    ¡°You sell myrvites, yes?¡± she asked, closing the door behind her.

    ¡°Get the crystal hound back in its cage,¡± the largest and hairiest of them growled in a low baritone. ¡°How did you find this place?¡± He kept his hand by his side, though whether he had a gun or a wand there, she wasn¡¯t sure.

    ¡°I promised my contact I wouldn¡¯t tell,¡± Mirian lied. ¡°Apologies, I know this isn¡¯t the usual way things are done. But I have a need, and you have the merchandise. I¡¯m willing to pay an extra fee for the breach in procedure and swear the usual oaths of secrecy.¡±

    The man¡¯s shoulders relaxed slightly on hearing Mirian mention the oaths, which meant she was right, and this was a Syndicate operation. ¡°You know these stay out of sight, yeah? Part of the agreement. We don¡¯t care what you do with them, but they don¡¯t go wandering about topside or too many questions get asked.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°And all these ain¡¯t for sale. Some already have buyers, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Which ones are still up?¡±

    ¡°Let me see your coin first,¡± he said, while the other Syndicate workers finished wrestling the crystal hound back behind bars. The cage shut with a slam, and one of the workers shook his hand, which had a nasty looking bite mark on it.

    Mirian showed him enough gold that the deal could continue, then it was a matter of inspections and bargaining. She embraced her focus and analyzed the souls of the different myrvites, picking three that had different detectable resonance.

    She arranged to pick them up in the canal after dark. Since they were smaller myrvites, she estimated she could easily levitate them all. The Syndicate workers would put a paste in their food that sent the myrvites into a deep sleep for several hours so that they wouldn¡¯t be a problem while she was moving them. Even with the price raised, the total came out to be seven doubloons and eighteen drachm, which was easily within her budget. She paid half of it up front.

    After they¡¯d shook on it and sworn the usual oaths, Mirian said, ¡°And, for future reference, what is the usual procedure for getting in contact with you fine gentleman for purchase orders?¡± Mirian asked. ¡°I might have need to be a repeat customer.¡±

    The man gave her a toothy grin.

 Chapter 108 - The Rot Spilling From the Walls

    With a steady supply of myrvites from her new Syndicate contact established, Mirian spent her next day trying to replicate the runes she¡¯d seen in the sanctum. When she¡¯d learned about ¡®glyph probing¡¯ from Professor Eld, she¡¯d thought it was a stupid thing to learn. After all, she didn¡¯t plan on learning a glyph unless it had been well established. However, now, she could use the same principle that researchers used to discover new glyphs, and discover new runes. The technique involved scribing a single line of a rune and seeing which direction it was most stable in. Then, she scribed the most stable line four times, then added a second line in four different places, again, analyzing which was most stable. If it burst into flames, that indicated a problem. If it sparked and smoldered violently, that was progress.

    The earlier Arcane Mathematics classes she¡¯d taken had discussed efficient ways to narrow down the possible geometric patterns. It was time-consuming, but the smugglers here also had access to several myrvites she¡¯d never used the souls of before. Once she could establish a basic construction of a rune on the page, she could analyze the resonance and look for similarities.

    After that, she planned to begin researching combining two different resonances and seeing if she could find an intermediate resonance. In that way, she might be able to combine the souls of two different myrvites to get a soul-energy that would let her craft a third unique rune. She was relying heavily on the waveform mathematics she¡¯d learned in Torrviol and hoping that her ¡®light¡¯ analogy was as applicable to different forms of magic as she thought it was.

    Mournfully, she thought of Xipuatl. It would be nice to talk it over with him.

    At night, she levitated around with her night camouflage spell on, getting a sense of movement around the city, and as an excuse to let loose after a hard day of studying. It also was good practice, and it felt wasteful to go to bed before expending most of her auric mana. After all, she was still well below Archmage Luspire in power, which meant she had work to do.

    The next morning, Mirian went to the Great Library again to check out books about waveforms, and ended up borrowing a book on magical telegraphs. While the technology had never taken off, the principles behind the design of sending and receiving signals looked quite applicable to what she was trying to do with soul resonance. Access to the Great Library was a huge boon; whatever subject she needed information on, they had something. Except runes, of course.

    But that led her to wonder: she might not be able to sneak into the celestial classes instructing priests in the Grand Sanctum, but she might be able to steal books from them. Most of the knowledge the priests had was passed down orally, because secrets were harder to steal if you didn¡¯t write them down, but at least some of their knowledge of celestial runes was recorded somewhere. Neither Lecne nor Arenthia had known where those sacred texts were kept. She also still had no idea where and how they were manufacturing orichalcum for the Arcane Praetorians.

    That meant there were secret passages in the Sanctum that were not on the maps she¡¯d studied.

    Mirian started scouting around the northern canals that would be beneath Kingmont Hill, and therefore beneath the Grand Sanctum. The Sanctum was isolated from direct contact with the canals, but the cave networks were close enough to each other that she could use divination magic to start looking for where unmapped caves were. Once again, her work in exploring the Torrviol Underground was coming in handy.

    Then on the 18th, an obituary in one of the newspapers mentioned a familiar name: Hamel.

    Mirian had been reading between ten and twelve different broadsheets each day, usually during the evenings after dinner, just before her nightly flying sessions. There was plenty to read, and lots of small presses that churned out a daily sheet, though plenty of it was inane. Other articles, she couldn¡¯t tell; maybe some detail would end up being important later, but for now, it all seemed relatively normal. Nobles and rich merchants acting out little dramas. Neighborhood crimes.

    Then, predictably, news from the war in Persama had overtaken the papers and created quite a stir in the city. Plenty of it was rumor and conjecture, and more of it was useless. She read up on it, but learned little she didn¡¯t already know. Besides, the details were likely to change as the southern time traveler iterated.

    Hamel¡¯s death, though, caught her eye. She read it twice to make sure it wasn¡¯t a different man by the same name, but no, he was listed as an acolyte. Tragically, the coroner reported he¡¯d died of an apparent heart attack at age 37.

    That struck her as suspicious.

    On the 19th, her eyes happened to pass over another obituary. Likely, Mirian wouldn¡¯t have noticed anything, except it was another heart attack, and another person who was far too young to have had one. It seemed a journalist named Celine who helped write for the Magrio Broadsheet had died, again tragically, at the age of 32.

    Then she went through the newspapers she¡¯d collected for the day and noticed she didn¡¯t have a copy of the day¡¯s Magrio Broadsheet.

    Mirian went on a search of the corner stands for a copy, but no one seemed to have one. Finally, near River Station, the woman at the stand lowered her voice and told her, ¡°Their building was broken into last night. The whole place was ransacked, and the printing press smashed. Means they stuck their nose somewhere it shouldn¡¯t have gone. Young man like you has too much sense to miss the point, hmm?¡±

    Mirian made some noises of agreement. Well, someone had certainly wanted to send a message, she thought.

    She went back to her research on runes and continued to scout out the tunnels beneath the Grand Sanctum. She¡¯d added quite a bit of detail to her maps; there were dozens of passages and rooms that appeared nowhere on the blueprints she¡¯d acquired. However, her divination spells weren¡¯t precise enough to locate how to get into them.

    That night, Mirian staked out the Akanan Embassy.

    She¡¯d picked out the roof of a clocktower a few buildings away from Tenedor Plaza, using a warmth spell to chase away the night¡¯s chill. It was a long and boring vigil, and she was just about to give up when she noticed some unusual activity. The Akanan guards on patrol vanished¡ªbut no one replaced them.

    Nothing else happened.

    She noted the time. It was clear something at the embassy wasn¡¯t normal, but it was hard to say what yet.

    Exhausted from going the entire night without sleep, Mirian ate breakfast back at the inn then took a long nap. Then she went back to her vigil, though this time she just sat on a bench just outside Ducastil, blending in with the rest of the people milling about.

    Just before noon, she caught sight of some twenty members of the Palendurio Guard, suddenly marching in column past the spires of the palace. She hadn¡¯t seen where they¡¯d come from, but they certainly hadn¡¯t come from the Governor¡¯s Mansion. Checking her map of the city, she thought they might have come up from the canals; there was a stair and an elevator for moving goods and people around, just around the bend.

    Mirian followed the guards from a block back. The group made no effort to deviate. They were heading straight for the plaza.

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Got them.

    There was no way to identify them yet. The Palendurio Guard wore thin metal masks that disguised their faces. This seemed to Mirian like a stupid idea, because it let the guard stay anonymous. How could misbehaving guardsmen be held to account? Here, it made them the perfect attackers. Even if the rest of the crisis didn¡¯t develop, how could one distinguish between the conspirators and the innocent?

    She did wonder where the Arcane Praetorians and the Crown Bureau were in all of this. They wouldn¡¯t be around to stop the attack, but what did they do after it?

    She was going to have to find out.

    As soon as the guards neared the embassy, two of them in the lead smashed down the gate with force spells. Gasps of surprise and panic filled the plaza as crowds turned towards the commotion.

    The rest of the guard started jogging past the gates to surround the embassy building, while four of them stood by at the gate, two facing the building, and two facing the crowd.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± a man asked, stepping forward.

    ¡°Guard¡¯s business. Step away,¡± growled one of the men outside the gate.

    ¡°No it¡¯s not,¡± said a woman in the crowd. ¡°That¡¯s the embassy! What¡¯s the meaning of this?¡±

    The two guards looked at each other, then pulled out wands. They started sending out a spell she recognized as sparkfire clamor, a spell that let out dozens of points of bouncing balls of light that seared what they touched and let out sparks and loud bangs that sounded like gunfire. Screams erupted among the crowd as most people fled the square.

    Some stayed though. ¡°Oh Gods! Look!¡± another woman screamed, pointing at the embassy. Sure enough, a column of flame had engulfed one side of the building.

    Mirian wanted a better look. She glanced around, then ducked into an alley. With everyone distracted by the attack, she launched herself into the air with levitate, stopping when she was several hundred feet above, then cast eagle eye to enhance her vision. Several people had no doubt seen her, but it would stop mattering soon. It was too late for anyone as far away as Torrviol to act against her. Palendurio was about to be engulfed in chaos and war, and the train lines were about to be cut.

    Down below, she could see the guards. Several had wands out and were continuing to pour flames into the embassy building while the others simply watched. All through the building, the fires were growing, and smoke soon began to obscure her view from above.

    Through the haze, she saw a sudden flurry of movement and heard distant shouts echoing up. Several Akanans were attempting to break out of the embassy through the windows on the second floor. She heard the crack of a rifle and the flashes of spells being exchanged. The four guards by the gate took cover, moving back around the wall. For several minutes, the little battle continued as the flames spread and intensified. Squinting, Mirian could make out a woman falling from the window, then two men. All three of them made a mad dash for the gate, shouting first in Eskanar, then in accented Friian. Though most of the words were lost in the noise, Mirian made out one:

    ¡°¡ªconspiracy!¡± the woman shouted.

    Perhaps they hadn¡¯t seen the guards who¡¯d moved behind the pillars of the gate. Perhaps they didn¡¯t think their former ally would really slaughter the embassy staff in front of a huge crowd. Perhaps they were just desperate and scared; Mirian certainly knew the feeling. But force blades cut them to pieces until all three of them were a bloody smear on the cobblestones.

    There were more citizens screaming, and then the Palendurio Guard retreated from around the building and reformed into columns. Mirian couldn¡¯t even make out the embassy anymore, it was too choked with black smoke, but the horrid light of the flames lit up all the nearby buildings.

    Mirian went higher up, then moved back towards Ducastil, following the column of guards. The crowd in Tenedor Plaza didn¡¯t follow them, probably out of fear. As the guards moved back towards the palace, they didn¡¯t hesitate to use more sparkfire clamor spells or force push to make sure their path was clear. It only took a few spells to get the crowded streets to stampede away from them.

    With her auric mana waning rapidly from the levitation spell, Mirian decided to land. She still wasn¡¯t sure how much mana she should keep in reserve, but she didn¡¯t want to go under half her capacity. She took a risk and went ahead of the group of guards, landing on top of one of the smaller towers of Ducastil, then hid behind one of the battlements. As she tested around with her divination spells, she discovered her guess had been right: none of the wards protecting the palace had been designed to detect infiltration by air.

    She watched as the guard moved to one of the gates. They stopped in front of the gate guard, and there was a brief conversation. What happened next was lightning fast: the lead guard¡¯s hand snaked out and stuck a wand in the small gap between the palace guard¡¯s mask and breastplate so that it must have been touching his neck when the spell went off. The guard right behind the lead one dashed forward, catching the gate guard¡¯s body as it went limp, then that body began to float next to them, just a centimeter or two off the ground.

    Probably using a lift person spell, Mirian thought, glad for her own eagle eye spell. Without enhanced vision, it would have been easy to miss. As it was, she could see the dead guard¡¯s toes dragging across the ground, but the corpse¡¯s movement matched the rest of the column. Even someone watching closely might have missed what had just happened and assumed the palace guard had joined the rest of his cohort.

    The now twenty-one guards made their way up the stair that spiraled around the karst tower, moving the corpse-guard to the back of the line. The next two gate guards were missing already, so the bridge to the Governor¡¯s Mansion was completely undefended. They simply walked in.

    Mirian dropped her eagle eye spell and switched to a detect magic spell, the cone targeting the mansion. That probably triggered one of the alarm wards, while another set of wards obscured the signal she was getting, but she could still tell that the guards were casting spells as they moved through the rooms.

    Two of the guards emerged from the door, looking around¡ªprobably for her. She ducked behind one of the fancy battlements of the tower and dropped her spell. She switched over to her focus, using the generic soul energy in her primary repository to cast detect life. They¡¯d prepared for countermeasures against arcane magic, but not celestial magic. With detect life, she could sense the two guards standing by the door through the stone. She could also sense the guards moving through the mansion, and several people who were caught inside. One by one, their life-forces were snuffed out as the guards moved from room to room, slaughtering everyone they encountered.

    There was a group of people in the dining room on the top floor, who turned, then fled to another room as they heard the magical blasts and screams. One of them was probably the governor. Whatever locks or wards the mansion had, the unit of guards easily bypassed.

    That explains what happened to him.

    The front door closed, and Mirian watched as the twenty guards moved about the mansion. It seemed some were piling the bodies for incineration, while others were looking for something. With the amount of spellpower they had, it wouldn¡¯t be hard to keep the flames contained and the smoke compacted by remove smoke spells. Without any bodies left, perhaps it would look like the governor fled, rather than was butchered.

    It took a little less than an hour for them to clear out the building of whatever they were looking for. Then, they proceeded down a passage that seemed to be built into the stone of the spire. Probably a secret passage that leads to the canals, Mirian guessed. Soon enough, they were outside her spell range.

    By then, a crowd had gathered at the gates to Ducastil, and the shouting and rumors were both flying. The guards had locked the gate behind them, though. The guards at other gates were talking to the crowds, looking around. It didn¡¯t seem they knew what was going on.

    Mirian used her night camouflage spell. Since it reprojected the sky¡¯s light, she realized she¡¯d misnamed it; it could absolutely be used in the day, it just wouldn¡¯t be as effective. It would give her a little cover, though. Then she levitated herself north, towards the Magrio River, where she could head into the canals.

    She wanted to see if she could figure out just who these guards actually were, and more importantly, who they were working for.

 Chapter 109 - The Palendurio Crisis

    Mirian made it down to the canals with only a few people pointing and shouting about her, then dropped her night camouflage as she flew inside, taking several twists and turns through the reinforced caves, passing a boat full of very surprised laborers moving supplies through the waterways. Once she was out of sight, she landed and cast detect life again, but all she saw were the forms of people moving about on the boats through the tunnels. There was no cluster of twenty of them moving together.

    She wandered through the passages, seeing if there were any boats smuggling people out inside crates, or Palendurio Guards riding the rafts, but found neither. She cast detect metal, enhanced to have a mental component so no one else could see the glow, hoping that if the guards had taken off their armor she could detect it, but the usual merchants were carrying around too many goods with metal in them for anything to look out of place. She would need a more specific divination spell, and she didn¡¯t have one. Always next time, she thought.

    The group seemed to have disguised themselves and dispersed. This cycle, she wouldn¡¯t find them, but she¡¯d know where to wait next time. At this point, she was sure the guards were impostors of some kind. The murder of the guard at the gate was evidence enough of that. But who? she wondered.

    By then, she was tired, and low on mana. She headed back to the inn for dinner.

    The commons of the Bard and Lion Inn was ablaze with rumors. Mirian ordered a meal from the counter, then sat in her usual corner. All around, everyone was talking.

    ¡°¡ªheard that the guard just came in wands blazing! Literally, that thing burned like¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªwhat in the hells were they thinking? Couldn¡¯t have been the guard, why would they do that? Why would anyone do that?¡±

    ¡°¡ªtalked to a woman who said they saw a pile of bodies¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªexplosion, outside the city. He said it was an attack, saw spells getting flung about¡ª¡±

    Mirian started eating, when a man sat across from her.

    ¡°This seat taken?¡± he asked.

    ¡°It is now,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°You hear what happened?¡± he said, peering around the room, then out the window. ¡°Can¡¯t believe it. The Akanan Embassy, attacked! I heard it was the Praetorians,¡± he said.

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°It looked like the Palendurio Guard to me. Then again, anyone can wear that armor.¡±

    ¡°You saw it? Damn. Did they really attack the crowd?¡± He didn¡¯t actually wait for her to answer, though. Clearly, he had a lot of nervous energy and just wanted to talk. ¡°There¡¯s a rumor going around that there was an attack north of the city. You think the attack on the embassy was retaliation? And the Akanan merchants are in on it. Damn, always knew they were scheming. They talk to each other, you know? Back each other. You think they might try to retaliate?¡±

    Mirian leaned back, really looking at the man for the first time. He certainly looked worried. But she¡¯d heard that rumor before, in tomorrow¡¯s broadsheets. It seemed a bit early to be suspecting the Akanan merchants of anything. Do the Akanan merchants already have a reputation like that? Or is there a campaign to spread the rumors? ¡°Where¡¯d you hear that from?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°People are talking,¡± the man said.

    ¡°So¡­ someone on the street? How would they know if the merchants were conspiring?¡±

    ¡°The Akanan merchants are always talking to each other! Everyone knows that. Any time a new shipment comes in¡ª¡±

    ¡°How do you know they talk?¡± Mirian asked.

    The man abruptly stood, pushing his chair out. ¡°Why am I talking to you?¡± he said, annoyed.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. You¡¯re the one that sat down in front of me,¡± Mirian said.

    The man glared at her, then left, muttering something about ¡°young brats¡± as he did.

    Interesting, Mirian thought.

    ***

    The next morning, Mirian counted five broadsheets discussing the attack as ordered by Governor Palamas, and eight mentioning the rumor about the Akanans preparing to retaliate by burning warehouses, stores, boats, or sometimes even Palendurio apartments. Six of those eight called for patriotic Baracueli to defend their nation from Akanan sabotage. The language the newspapers used was surprisingly similar. Of course, the average person probably didn¡¯t cross-reference twelve different papers every day, so who would notice?

    The rumblings in the streets continued all morning. Then, as Mirian watched from her balcony, the riots started. Over by the docks, a warehouse burned. At lunch, she heard that a mob had seized five merchants by River Station and beaten them, possibly to death. Meanwhile, a march of citizens to Ducastil had been attacked with sparkfire cacaphony and several other spells, and two Baracueli had died in the resulting panicked stampede.

    Throughout the day, there were more mob attacks, and people came and went from the streets. It seemed most people were trying to figure out what was going on, but as the day went on, it seemed that rumor became fact, and soon the crowds were roaming about with purpose. There were several more attacks on Akanan merchants. On the river, two boats burned.

    Mirian watched it all, aloof and impartial. It felt like a puppet show playing out before her, but only she could see the strings.

    The next day, the Baracuel Army marched into Palendurio to restore order.

    That just led to street fighting. Unlike the guards, the soldiers didn¡¯t have crowd-control spells, so instead they were using force push and the occasional combat spell. Meanwhile, the crowds threw bricks and formed blocks to push back against the soldiers. A few magi were part of the civilian crowds, so it wasn¡¯t purely one-sided, but in several cases, the soldiers fired into the crowd, which usually got them to run, but only temporarily. Then they¡¯d be back, larger than ever. More rumors spread of strange explosions.

    By the 23rd, the street violence seemed as perpetual as the wind.

    ¡°Where are the Arcane Praetorians?¡± Mirian asked a woman at the Bard and Lion that evening.

    ¡°I heard they¡¯re not here. Went on some secret mission down south, and never came back. Well, it¡¯s a good thing they did go south, you know? There¡¯s that horrid Persaman general threatening Alkazaria, but it¡¯s our Praetorians holding him back. I don¡¯t know why everyone¡¯s so mad at Akanans now. It¡¯s the Persamans we need to chase out of the city. I¡¯m sure they¡¯re just waiting for their opportunity,¡± she said.

    Mirian contemplated that. She thought about what Nicolas would say about it all. If the mob violence was organic and spontaneous, they should be targeting the Persamans as the timeline has changed. Every cycle, the southern time traveler makes more progress, but the events here stay the same. It must be planned. I wonder how many people it takes spreading a rumor for it to take hold?

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    That night, Mirian watched from high above the city as mobs tore about the streets, battling guards, soldiers, or the mercenaries the Akanan merchants were hiring to protect themselves. Outside the city, she would occasionally see an orange and violet flash of light as a minor magical eruption took place.

    ¡°Did you hear? Akana Praediar is declaring war on us!¡± the chef told her in the morning as he set breakfast down in front of her. ¡°It must have been a surprise attack. There¡¯s explosions all around Palendurio. But the Baracuel Army is here, in the city! They should be out there, fighting.¡±

    By the 25th, Hanaran was likely starting to gather her forces to move north, though no one in Palendurio was talking about it. The trains north had stopped running, which told Mirian the damage to the tracks had severed all the lines to Cairnmouth. Midday, the General of the Western Armies, Kallin Corrmier, occupied Parliament.

    Mirian overheard a well-to-do woman ranting about it. ¡°For their protection, he said. For their protection, he said! Protect them from who? Isn¡¯t it the city he should be protecting? If Akana Praediar is at war with us, and Persama is at war with us, what in the five hells is General Corrmier doing sitting in the center of Palendurio with the army!¡±

    That was the general sentiment. No one could figure out why General Corrmier was doing it.

    Mirian moved about the streets, making light conversation to ask questions, or listening in on conversations that were already in progress.

    Some said the army was trying to stop the rioters. Some said the army was encouraging the rioters and working with them to root out the Akanan saboteurs that were everywhere. Some said the army was fighting the guard, which had been bribed to fight for Akana, while others said, no, it was the army that had been bribed, and only the Palendurio Guard could be trusted.

    In a word, people were confused.

    For all the citizens roaming about the streets, Mirian couldn¡¯t make heads or tails of what they were trying to accomplish. They were mad. They were scared. But they had no conception of what was going on, so their outbursts targeted whatever was close by. Foreign merchants were easy targets.

    The crisis continued, until the next morning when the rumor was that Pontiff Oculo Stellnat would address the city. By noon, a huge crowd had gathered, spreading from the steps of the Grand Sanctum to all the nearby streets. People were packed all the way across the bridge and to the other side of the river. On the river itself, several barges pulled up to the banks so that more people could fit on them. For an hour, the crowd murmured about what they expected His Supreme Holiness to say. Mirian took this time to scribe a water walk spell, then walked across the river and found a spot on the pier so she¡¯d be close enough to listen.

    At last, Pontiff Oculo appeared. He was a tall man with a neatly trimmed silver beard, though it was his ornate vestments that stood out, glistening gold and silver in the sunlight. As he emerged, applause erupted from many in the crowd.

    An arcanist by the Pontiff¡¯s side cast an amplify voice spell.

    ¡°People of Palendurio!¡± Oculo boomed out, and the crowd quieted to listen. ¡°Troubled times have come to holy Baracuel. It is our faith and the blessings of the Gods that will see us through, as they always have.¡±

    A cheer went up. Oculo waited for it to die down before continuing. ¡°The Elder Gods, in their wisdom, have sought to guide us. We of the Order only illuminate that path. Palendurio has stood for a thousand years as a source of light. It must continue to be a shining example of civilization!¡±

    Here, he waited, but the response of the crowd was more muted. They were still waiting to see what he had to say. ¡°When I see Palendurio burning, it is to Carkavakom I turn. The rule of law must prevail in Palendurio.¡±

    Mixed murmurs and cheers followed this proclamation. For some, that was all they wanted¡ªthings to just go back to the way they were. For others, it seemed they had been following the path of Carkavakom. Fear and destruction, after all, were His tools for enforcing law. Isn¡¯t that what they had been doing when they burned down the homes of the traitorous Akanans?

    ¡°What should the response be of a faithful citizen as the army attempts to restore order? This is the first of the holy cities, and our actions must reflect it¡­¡±

    So that¡¯s where he¡¯s going with this, Mirian thought. As the speech continued, Pontiff Oculo never said, ¡®listen to General Corrmier,¡¯ but he might as well have. She tried to think through what that implied. Corrmier obviously represents his own noble family, but how did he get the Luminate Order to back him? Why does the military even need to occupy the city?

    Then she realized. The Palamas family is the one getting displaced. That¡¯s why Governor Palamas is the target. They kill him to remove him as a threat, but also pin the embassy attack on him. Somehow, they also have the backing of the Luminates, but then how does Akana Praediar fit into all of this? Do they know about the planned break in the alliance and the invasion?

    General Corrmier outranked General Hanaran. And when he ordered General Hanaran north, it was to her death, and the death of the entire division. Was that also part of the plan, or a miscalculation?

    The crowd wasn¡¯t happy with Pontiff Oculo¡¯s speech, which ended up being quite short. Calls for peace and to follow martial law were uncharacteristic of His Supreme Holiness. Ever since the Unification War, the Luminates had mostly remained neutral in politics, and enough people could tell his speech felt a whole lot like picking sides.

    There was also the issue of the magical explosions that were now coming with increasing frequency. Oculo didn¡¯t address them at all in his speech, and the crowd grumbled about that too. If it¡¯s a preplanned speech, it wouldn¡¯t, Mirian rationalized. Just like the professors with prewritten lectures never changed them.

    Sure enough, the riots continued. Any Akanans still left in the city were leaving as fast as they could, but not fast enough for the mobs. The next morning, three Akanans were found with their arms nailed to the walls of their shops in clear reference to the spikes that pierced the Ominian.

    That day, there was a new development.

    ¡°For the King! For Baracuel!¡± shouted a mob armed with tools and improvised spears as they attacked another group that was roaming the streets by the sanctum. There was a bloody skirmish that left two bodies bleeding out, and then the group they¡¯d attacked ran away.

    An hour later, a mercenary band wearing the colors of both the Palamas and Bardas families moved through the streets.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on with them?¡± Mirian asked a well-dressed woman in Tenedor Plaza.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t hear? The King has issued a denunciation of General Corrmier, and deputized them as the new guards of Palendurio. He told all the soldiers that they didn¡¯t need to follow Corrmier¡¯s orders anymore. Technically, it¡¯s in his authority to dismiss a general, but the King isn¡¯t actually supposed to exercise that power! None of them have since the war.¡±

    That explained it.

    Mirian then stopped by the Royal Courier for her message.

    ¡°Why, yes, I do have a letter for you,¡± the official there said. ¡°Was a bit surprising. We haven¡¯t heard anything from the north, and then here comes a zephyr falcon from Cairnmouth. If you don¡¯t mind me asking¡­ what¡¯s going on up there? Everyone¡¯s saying different things. Has Akana Praediar really declared war on us?¡±

    ¡°They have,¡± Mirian said, opening the letter from Lecne.

    She read it quickly. Lecne hadn¡¯t been able to find out any information about Sulvorath himself, but they had provoked the Deeps into moving agents into the area. Dozens of criminals and even innocent citizens in the area had been arrested and interrogated, all looking for Mirian. The descriptions they¡¯d asked about matched her, and they matched the ¡®Vera¡¯ disguise she¡¯d used briefly.

    But not Micael, she thought. She was still ahead of him, and he was still obsessed. The why of it still wasn¡¯t clear. There had to be more to why he¡¯d want the apocalypse to continue. There had to be some reason he¡¯d attacked her.

    Specter was still giving him access to the Deeps. She had a plan for how to cut that off, but for now, it was better to let Sulvorath spend all his time and energy looking for her. She had a plan to cut into his efforts to do anything, and now she had a baseline to test against the variations she was going to make in each cycle.

    ¡°Any other news?¡± the courier asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Mirian said, and left.

    As she entered her room, she checked the orichalcum shavings she¡¯d grafted into the locking mechanism. Her own magnetic spell fizzled. So resonance does decay, she thought. The spell resistant metal she¡¯d kept on herself still matched her own soul, but removed from it, it would eventually revert. That was good to know.

    General Corrmier, it seemed, didn¡¯t care much what King Aurelius Palamas proclaimed. That evening, Mirian watched from the roof of a clocktower as Baracueli soldiers fought roving street battles. The entire city sounded with gunfire and spells. The Bard and Lion Inn boarded up its windows and started using the tables and chairs to barricade the door at night.

    When Mirian woke in the morning, it seemed Palendurio was divided: the Loyalist faction, as they were calling themselves, had claimed the city north of the Magrio River, while the Liberation faction¡ªMirian wasn¡¯t sure where¡¯d they¡¯d gotten the name¡ªhad claimed the south part of the city. Every bridge was occupied, and the streets were deserted as people hid in their homes.

    The next day, as she was writing her observations and notes about events, Mirian felt the rumble of a small earthquake. Quickly, she rushed out to her balcony, then levitated over one of the abandoned towers of Ducastil, no longer caring at all if she was seen.

    She was just in time to watch as the leyline eruption began.

 Chapter 110 - The Broken City

    The leyline eruption began at the horizon, traveling along the distant Casnevar Mountains to the east, moving from north to south. At first, it was silent, because only the light had arrived. Mirian had to use a eyeshield spell just to watch it; it looked like a colossal lightning bolt leaping up from the world, but it was large enough to cut through pieces of the mountains as it burst forth. It danced through the air, violet and orange energy coruscating madly, sending up bright columns of aurora and leaving behind smoldering clouds.

    She¡¯d seen this leyline erupt before, back when she¡¯d fled on the train with Nicolas. Now, she was closer, and had a better view.

    The leyline smashed back into the ground, splitting an entire mountain down the center as it did, leaving a shattered fissure deep enough she could see a magmatic glow from it.

    The earth had trembled lightly before; now it shook hard enough to feel like the world was coming apart. Mirian gripped the battlements of the tower, watching as all across Palendurio stone towers crumbled and buildings collapsed. Panicked shouting began immediately all across the city.

    The shaking kept going and going. Suddenly, there was a thunderous sound of stone tearing and Mirian found the tower she was on crumbling beneath her feet. Quickly, she cast her levitation spell, then to her horror, saw that the leyline breach wasn¡¯t done.

    Bright prismatic sprays came out of the ground, heading from the mountains towards Palendurio, bursting out like volcanoes unleashing a swarm of multicolored lightning. If it¡¯s anything like what happened in Torrviol, that could cause an antimagic pulse, she realized, and rapidly descended.

    She was just in time. By now, the distant rumble of thunder had reached them, but it was drowned out by an overwhelming sound that made standing next to artillery feel like a whisper. Mirian covered her ears, and felt a trickle of blood coming down already.

    All across the city, buildings cracked and fell. Wards burst. Pieces of the city cracked apart as sinkholes opened up everywhere. Palendurio began to fall into the very canals beneath it.

    Mirian¡¯s levitation wand sparked as the glyphs in it burst apart, and she felt her arcane catalyst by her belt heat up. The earth kept shaking, and just when it seemed like it would never stop¡ª

    It stopped.

    The silence nearly felt as loud as the thunder. Mirian calmed her breathing, then reached for the soul energy in her repository to heal her ears¡ªbut found it empty. The antimagic shockwave had burst apart at least half the glyphs in her spellbook and wands, but the arcane runes at least had remained intact. That meant her repositories still worked, but whatever arcane forces were at work had emptied them. Mirian siphoned a small part of her own soul to heal the damage to her ears. The regeneration didn¡¯t take long; after only a minute, she could hear again.

    All across town, the fighting had stopped, at least. Several of the bridges across the river had collapsed. Half the city seemed to be rubble now, and some streets were completely impassable because the street had collapsed into the caves that were below them.

    The devastation was breathtaking.

    If she was right, the catastrophic eruption she had just witnessed was a direct result of the Divine Monument¡¯s destruction. Likely, it took some time for the arcane forces involved to propagate this far south. But when they do¡­

    Mirian wandered through the city, taking it all in. At first, it seemed people were too stunned to do much. Then, the armed gangs broke apart as people began to mobilize into aid bands. It warmed her heart to see people digging through rubble to help those who were trapped or to start organizing ad hoc medical stations where the bandages were often strips of cloth ripped from their own shirts.

    In the end, they understood. But only after it¡¯s too late, she thought sadly.

    She retreated back to her room at the Bard and Lion.

    Mirian reconstructed the useful parts of her spellbook, though the levitation wand was broken beyond repair, and the inks she would need for an antigravity glyph were unavailable.

    Next, she headed to the myrvite smuggling operation. It was abandoned, and the walls that had once protected it, collapsed. Several myrvites lay dying in their cages when she found them. Sorry little guys, she thought.

    She filled her soul repositories, then climbed back up where the street had only partially collapsed, forming a ramp of rubble.

    Part of her knew what she was about to do was worthless. Another part of her didn¡¯t care. She ached for these people, feeling a sorrow somewhere deep in herself. She could excuse her exercise of magic as practice, but that wasn¡¯t why she was doing it.

    She was doing it because they deserved some relief.

    It would only be a few people, in one small section of the city, in one cycle, but it was all she could do. Just this once.

    The area near the smuggling operation had at least twenty collapsed buildings. She used detect life to see where the survivors were.

    The celestial magic easily saw through the thick stone. There were dozens of bodies trapped in the buildings, and even at a distance she could see the dark distortions in their souls that indicated injuries. Everyone had, after all, been hiding inside to avoid the street fighting when the earthquake had hit.

    She approached an apartment building where the limestone beneath it had cracked apart, leading to the entire structure smashing into the ground, bricks strewn about like a toppled sandcastle. Mirian used lift object to quickly move chunks of rubble aside, then used lift person to gently bring the body of a woman, then her child, over.

    Mirian had little experience healing, but Lecne and Arenthia had taught her the basics, and she¡¯d practiced on minor wounds. She closed her eyes, drawing from the now charged repositories. The woman¡¯s spine was in terrible shape, and she had a concussion. Mirian sent soothing waves of soul energy into her. As her body began to heal, the crack in her skull knitting itself together, Mirian worked on healing her son next. Based on how she¡¯d found them, the boy had been shielded by his mother as the building collapsed, but she could see damage in his neck and arm. She eased away the roiling dark patches, picking apart the yarn-like dark tangles until his soul flowed again.

    She moved from building to building, easily able to find the survivors, though her soul repositories quickly began to deplete themselves. As she worked, people began to stare.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± a man said in amazement as she deconstructed yet another pile of heavy stone and lifted the survivors to safety.

    ¡°I thought only priests could do that,¡± another whispered when she saw Mirian healing lacerations and broken bones.

    The priests were nowhere to be found. Charitably, she guessed parts of the Grand Sanctum had collapsed and they were trapped. Or perhaps they were overworked. Or perhaps they have been hollowed out, and have lost their path, she thought bitterly.

    As the injured began to stir, Mirian turned to the crowd that had gathered. ¡°There is little time left,¡± she said. ¡°You must fill it with the satisfaction of what good deeds you can do. Set up aid stations, and cots for those who will need a place to sleep. Share food with each other. Spend time with those you love, and celebrate them. That is all you have time for.¡±

    It will happen again and again and again and again, she knew. But just this once¡­

    ¡°Who are you?¡± one of the men asked again.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Anyone should do what I¡¯ve done.¡± She looked around at the damage. There were still so many people trapped, and so many more who might not last another night. ¡°I will finish doing what I can, then rest.¡±

    ***

    For another day, she helped who she could and ate food and listened as people talked, and laughed, and cried, and prayed. More rumblings passed through Palendurio, and more buildings, already destabilized, finished collapsing. Word came around noon that the Akanans had landed at the mouth of the river and were marching toward Palendurio. General Corrmier¡¯s soldiers were still busy seizing strategic points around the city. He¡¯s still marshaling his forces as if he¡¯s an occupying army, straight out of one of the strategy manuals. So he¡¯s in league with the Akanans, she realized.

    What a fool. Even at the end of the world, all he can think about is grasping power.

    By then, the priests had finally moved out from the Grand Sanctum, but they were overwhelmed by the casualties. Logistics throughout the city had broken down, and with grain shipments disrupted and the water purifying artifice demolished, hunger and thirst started to descend upon the Palendurio. Desperate people were drinking straight from the river, which was full of sewage and not fit to drink.

    Mirian spent an hour before dinner simply purifying barrels of water with her spellwork so that her little gathering could drink. She demanded the people who now gathered around her have a feast celebrating those they loved.

    To her surprise, they listened. The evening air was full of laughter, mixed with tears and heartfelt speeches. They toasted to each other with cups of water.

    When a priest of the sanctum came by and asked what she was doing, and that he¡¯d heard rumors she could heal, Mirian snapped, ¡°Go back to hiding in your caverns.¡±

    The crowd had said nothing, but they had all looked at the priest as one. Cowed by their collective stare, he retreated.

    That night, she made her final preparations of the cycle.

    She had one last thing she wanted to attempt before moonfall.

    ***

    Mirian said her goodbyes to her little flock of followers the morning of the 4th, then made her way through the rubble to the central bridge that crossed to the Grand Sanctum. It was one of the few left standing.

    One of General Corrmier¡¯s units blocked her access. There were ten soldiers in all.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± one of them said, ¡°Our orders are that no one crosses the bridge. There are¡­ it¡¯s to control the chaos in the city. Prevent looting. Maintain order.¡±

    She could hear the doubt in his own words. ¡°And you believe that?¡± Mirian asked loudly.

    The man didn¡¯t answer, nor did his companions.

    ¡°The Akanan army is marching toward Palendurio. People are fleeing the city. The very sky is burning,¡± she said, and pointed up. Above them, auroras of red and violet moved slowly about, like the churning brushstrokes of a careless god.

    The soldiers shuffled their feet.

    ¡°What happened to General Hanaran¡¯s army when Corrmier sent her north?¡±

    Again, no reply, but she could see from their reactions that they knew the answer to her question.

    ¡°I¡¯m crossing the bridge,¡± she said. When one of the soldiers raised his rifle, she met his eyes. ¡°And I don¡¯t fear death anymore.¡±

    As she began to walk, he lowered his rifle. The soldiers began talking among themselves in low voices. There was no need for her to spell it out. They may have been Corrmier¡¯s troops, but the infantry wouldn¡¯t be part of whatever deal he¡¯d made with the Akanans. Whatever loyalty they felt to him was competing for the loyalty they felt to Baracuel, and the fear that came from the terrible events around them.

    The Grand Sanctum¡¯s entrance was unguarded, and as soon as she walked in she saw why. The room was full of corpses, laid out in rows across the ground and benches, some shrouded, some not. Most of the bodies were plastered in dust. So there were cave-ins.

    The survivors were a disorganized mess. Some wept in the corner, some prayed, some did what they could to help. Mirian walked down the center aisle. No one stopped her.

    Despite the sheer number of priests trained in healing, it seemed the number of injuries had overwhelmed their capacity. But she had already indulged in enough healing. Now, she had to lay aside sentiment.

    Past the shrines she¡¯d visited as a pilgrim, she finally encountered a priest who said something. ¡°What are you doing in here?¡±

    ¡°Helping,¡± Mirian said, which was true.

    ¡°I¡­¡± He stopped, and noticed her spellbook dangling from its chain. ¡°We can¡¯t get to them all. Can you¡­?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can,¡± she said. And that was also true. Just not in the way he thought.

    Two of the passages she attempted to go through were blocked by rubble, but the main hall had remained intact enough to travel through. She moved aside a boulder that was blocking one of the halls, then continued on. Further in, she had to use a gather smoke spell to strip dust from the air so she could breathe. Plenty of bodies lay pinned under stone. Perhaps some of them had survived the initial quake, but by now, there were no survivors.

    Light trembles ran through the earth again, and Mirian found her spellbook sparking again as some sort of massive wave of arcane energy moved past them, like a wind that moved through stone. She heard distant raised voices as survivors wondered if they were about to be crushed again.

    Mirian picked her way through more rubble, squeezing through a partially collapsed tunnel. At last, she stood in front of the holy vaults.

    One Luminate Guard stood before them. The cave-ins had collapsed an entire half of the circular room, blocking off five of the doors and crushing two of the guards. Their corpses were still trapped under the rubble, and their dried blood was still pooled on the ground.

    She recognized the guard as the one who¡¯d spoken to her when she prayed there. Everad.

    He¡¯d been crying, she could see; gray dust from the rubble had coated his face, and then his tears had streaked it. Has he really stood fast, all this time, not even letting himself wipe away his tears? His eyes looked sunken, his face gaunt. His pants were stained; he¡¯d pissed himself rather than abandon his post. Mirian felt a surge of sympathy for him. Steadfast, she thought.

    The guard stepped forward, voice cracking as he spoke. ¡°I¡ªI am Everad, and I stand¡­¡± He swallowed hard, neck tilting so he didn¡¯t have to look to the side where his companions lay buried. ¡°And I stand guard. State your purpose.¡±

    She nodded. ¡°I am Mirian Castrella, Servant of the Ominian, and the Seventh Prophet. I seek to know the holy vaults.¡±

    Whatever answer he¡¯d expected, that hadn¡¯t been it. He started, then looked at Mirian. ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t. Only His Holiness¡­¡± Then he stopped. ¡°But the Prophets¡­ but you haven¡¯t been declared.¡±

    Mirian had thought about this. She¡¯d wondered: what crisis had the other Prophets been chosen to solve? How long had they had? Their journeys across the lands had taken years, if not decades. Had the time loop functioned the same way? Had their loops been those of years, rather than a month? If so, they¡¯d had so much more time to establish themselves.

    They also hadn¡¯t had other Prophets to contend with. Or had they? There was still so much she didn¡¯t know. Perhaps the answers were waiting for her behind the doors.

    ¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± she said. ¡°The world ends in an hour. I¡¯ll be sent back to try again. I¡¯ve tried going through the official routes. Neither the pontiff nor the council of archbishops return a verdict in time.¡±

    Everad¡¯s face grew even more pale. ¡°An hour? What do you mean¡­ ends?¡±

    ¡°The Divir moon comes crashing down. Nothing survives.¡±

    Silence gripped the chamber.

    ¡°I see Them in my dreams,¡± Mirian said, closing her eyes. ¡°The Ominian sits upon a colossal throne, inside Their great mausoleum. Everywhere, the creatures of the Elder Gods are carved in relief. The walls and works shift and turn; space there goes beyond the dimensions we experience. Other times, we walk together across lands I have never seen. I have seen the azure glaciers that lie in the Endelice Mountains. I¡¯ve seen the endless deserts of Persama. I¡¯ve walked across Baracuel as it was before us. I saw the Labyrinth before I ever walked there.¡±

    ¡°The Mausoleum was destroyed. The Persamian Triarchy destroyed it, utterly.¡±

    ¡°And yet, I¡¯ve seen it,¡± she said.

    ¡°There was no Sixth Prophet,¡± he said next.

    ¡°There was. The Luminate Order simply didn¡¯t recognize them. You¡¯ve no doubt heard of the Heretics of Zomalator.¡±

    Silence descended again, except for distant echoes in the passages. Everad blinked back tears again, then said, ¡°Tell me what has happened to my beautiful Baracuel.¡±

    Mirian did. She told him of the conspiracy, of the Akanan treachery, of the Divine Monument, of the eruptions that spread from the frostlands to the Southern Range and beyond.

    When she was finished, Everad collapsed to his knees and wept. ¡°I have believed¡­ I have believed in this greater thing. Of the Gods, of my country. How¡­?¡±

    Mirian put a gentle hand on his shoulder. ¡°I will remember your strength, Everad. And your steadfastness, in the face of the impossible. When I am done, this will not be your end, nor will it be the end of Baracuel.¡±

    The guard continued to cry, heavy sobs echoing. Finally, he said, ¡°I will not bar your way, Prophet. Only¡­ I can¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t have the means¡­.¡±

    Mirian nodded. ¡°That¡¯s okay. I do.¡±

    There were two doors not blocked by rubble. Most of the runes on them were flickering or dead. She chose a door at random, and opened her spellbook. Several spells had been rendered unusable by the arcane wind that had blown through, but she could improvise. She found two different spells, force blast and disintegration beam and quickly calculated which glyphs she could use of each to make something that could drill through stone.

    The holy vaults of the prophets stood before her.

    She began to channel.

 Chapter 111 - The Vault and the Assassin

    A ghostly beam of force and fire erupted from Mirian¡¯s outstretched hand, slamming into the stone door before her. Everad gaped at Mirian as her spell sent blossoming cracks through the door. When the runes above it glowed and she felt soft resistance to her spell. The arcane wind had emptied out most of her soul repository, but there was just enough left to work with. She veiled the spell as she had with the golem and used the soul energy to puncture it, letting the rest of the spell continue to smash into the door. The cracks spread, and chips of stone clattered to the ground. Mirian¡¯s auric mana swirled around her like a storm. What few runes that hadn¡¯t been destroyed by the earlier antimagic pulses smoldered, then went dark and coiled with smoke.

    She sent one more pulse of force into the door and it crashed open. The thick stone slabs scattered as they smashed into the room beyond. The clatter echoed, and dust swirled about.

    Everad still sat on his knees, watching her.

    Beyond the door lay a huge sarcophagus, carved of black marble and etched with swirling fractal patterns of gold. The rim of the sarcophagus was ebony, which was carved with hundreds of small flickering runes. She examined them carefully. She recognized the runes for preservation, protection, and reinforcement, but more of them were unfamiliar. At least two of the runes had to do with death and binding, which made Mirian wary of a trap.

    The corpse in the coffin was a well-preserved mummy, laying prone with a beautiful rapier clutched in his hands. The rapier itself was a needle, the metal so white it was opalescent. Along the edges of the blade and tip, the metal was black, though it glistened with a faint rainbow sheen like abalone. It had an elegant basket hilt, the curving wires of which reminded her of the tendrils of some of the creatures in the Mausoleum, or a banebriar vine. The basket hilt was made of the same silver-white metal as the blade, with a spiderweb-strand of the strange black metal that ran in swirls along each piece. The grip appeared to be some sort of black leather.

    There was something else that was strange about it. The light seemed to catch it wrong, and the sword seemed too solid, like it was more real than everything else around it.

    The corpse itself surprised her. Despite the ravages of time, the dark color of his skin was still clear, as were his features. The Fourth Prophet was Persaman, she realized.

    She yearned to reach for the rapier, but she needed to understand what the runes in the room did first. The Luminates vowed never to use the blessings of the divine to harm, but she wasn¡¯t sure that vow extended to the protections on holy relics of the Prophets themselves. If there was any risk of a trap that could harm her soul, the risk was too great. Unlike the runes outside the room that had been stripped by the antimagic pulses, these runes were completely intact, and still glowed fiercely.

    Mirian looked at the body of the Fourth Prophet. What was it like for you, all those times no one else remembers?

    Her eyes wandered around the rest of the room. Stone reliefs showed the various trials of the prophet. She recognized one of the famous battles he¡¯d led, and his journey into the Labyrinth. But what did you stop? What did the Ominian foresee?

    Some of the secrets were no doubt lost to the ravages of time. Perhaps the others were still known, kept secret by the pontiff and the archbishops.

    ¡°What now?¡± Everad said, his back still turned.

    ¡°I learn, and try again,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know how these runes are constructed, or what purpose they serve?¡±

    ¡°We do not look, even when the vaults are open. It is forbidden.¡±

    ¡°This sword. If I¡¯m right, I can take it back with me when the timeline resets. I just need to learn how.¡± She brought her attention back to the runes. If I can create a device that can measure the resonance¡­ it can be done with glyphs, so it must be possible with runes. Already, I can capture the soul energy in a device. But how to measure it?

    The Luminates passed down traditional knowledge. By not applying modern scientific studies to it, they kept it mysterious. And deliberately difficult to learn.

    Except the Deeps have learned something. But how to discover what they¡¯ve learned without the risk?

    There was so much to do, and so much to learn. And she had to be efficient. The other time travelers still loomed in the shadows, and she had to beat them.

    She studied the runes, memorizing not just their shape, but the feel of them. Soon enough, the world shook, and the apocalypse came to Enteria again.

    ***

    Mirian started the cycle by accumulating her usual resources and surreptitiously fixing the train engine. But before she destroyed the student record building and left for Palendruio again, she set up two variables.

    The first was she left a message for Archmage Luspire about the incoming treacherous Sulvorath, and how Adria Gavell was manipulating him to gain access to the Divine Monument for Vadriach University. Being manipulated and having his legacy stolen from under his nose was his worst fear, and he¡¯d react harshly to it.

    The second variable involved recruiting an old enemy.

    ¡°Valen,¡± she said, bursting into her room. Mirian had already changed enough that she had to use an illusion spell to look like her old self. ¡°The Deeps have been infiltrated from the inside. I¡¯m deputizing loyal citizens to help. After today, my true identity is compromised, and I have to leave. But if all goes well, we¡¯ll meet again. Are you in?¡±

    Valen was practically salivating at the opportunity. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ really? I didn¡¯t even suspect,¡± she said. ¡°This is so cool. A secret mission? Of course!¡±

    ¡°Great. Here¡¯s the gold you need to buy a zephyr falcon to send a message to me, as well as written instructions. The message must go out on the 20th. Stay hidden. Don¡¯t take any risks. But I need to know if anyone named ¡®Sulvorath¡¯ appears in Torrviol, and what his fate is. Report on Archmage Luspire¡¯s actions, and if any of the Akanan spy cells are caught. I doubt you¡¯ll see the double-agent code named ¡®Specter,¡¯ but if you do learn anything, let me know. Can you do that?¡±

    Valen blinked, still not sure if she was dreaming. ¡°Your voice¡­ what¡¯s happening?¡±

    ¡°Tell you what, you get one secret because I like you. The Deeps have true transformation spells that can¡¯t be detected by glyph magic. I¡¯ve had to apply one to myself so that I lose the Akanan spies who are after me. That¡¯s top secret, you understand?¡±

    ¡°Got it,¡± she said, smirking.

    ¡°Good,¡± Mirian said, and gave her a parting kiss. While Valen was still standing there, stunned, she left, torching the records department on her way out. At least she¡¯ll be having fun, Mirian thought.

    She stopped by Cairnmouth next, and met with Lecne again.

    Now I have two messages coming in to see how the other time traveler is affected, she thought. By now, she¡¯d come up with quite a long list of ways to make his time in Torrviol difficult, and it was time to start seeing which ones were the most effective. She¡¯d continue to vary them each cycle so he couldn¡¯t adapt.

    ***

    With the Cult of Zomalator drawing Sulvorath¡¯s attention to Cairnmouth, and the southern time traveler continuing his stubborn war campaign in the south, the variables in Palendurio were minimally affected.

    This time, when she snuck into the Grand Sanctum after her pilgrimage, she followed Bishop Lancel after his conversation with Hamel, relieved that the timeline hadn¡¯t changed enough to disrupt something so late into the cycle. Secluded as they are, perhaps the Grand Sanctum is even less subject to variations, she thought. The events repeating so exactly even after two weeks also told Mirian there was unlikely to be a time traveler starting in Palendurio.

    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    As before, Lancel kept glancing through the papers in his hand, seemingly not sure who to give them to. At last, he made his way to one of the upper chambers where the bishops had more luxurious rooms than the dorms of the acolytes and walked into one.

    Mirian risked an enhanced hearing spell and listened in the hall outside.

    ¡°¡­Their memory.¡±

    ¡°And to you, Lancel. What do you want?¡± the other man said. He had a strained voice.

    ¡°How do you know I want something? Perhaps I¡¯m just here to visit a faithful and old friend.¡±

    The other bishop snorted. ¡°Please. We¡¯re both busy men.¡±

    ¡°Well, since you insist. One of the acolytes noticed the strangest thing. There¡¯s entries for budget allocations but¡­ well, I¡¯m afraid they go to temples that don¡¯t exist.¡±

    There was a pause, then a loud sigh. ¡°I bet I know who did it. One of the acolytes probably mixed up the names of the eastern temples. I¡¯ll talk to him and get it all straightened out.¡±

    ¡°Ah, good. Knew you¡¯d know what to do. Never was much of one for accounting.¡± Bishop Lancel¡¯s footsteps echoed and Mirian made to retreat.

    ¡°Wait¡ªwho was it who noticed? I could use more competent accountants.¡±

    ¡°Acolyte Hamel. One of the folks from out east, suppose that¡¯s how he knew all the temple names out there. He¡¯s an older acolyte. Nervous looking, and a bit portly.¡±

    ¡°Good, good. Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Ah, no, thank you! One less thing to worry about.¡± With his footsteps continuing, Mirian ducked back down a passage, then took a random turn and waited for him to pass. Then she headed back up to the bishop¡¯s room.

    She knocked at the door. ¡°Hmm? Did you forget something?¡±

    ¡°Ah, no. Carry Their Memory. I¡¯m¡­ so sorry to interrupt. I seem to have gotten lost again¡­¡±

    Lancel had called Hamel portly, but this bishop was downright obese. He gave a loud, exasperated sigh. ¡°Where do you need to go?¡±

    ¡°The Hall of Bonding, holy one,¡± she said.

    ¡°Down the stairs, take the left spiral, then swing a right and follow the passage as it doubles back. Down the short flight of stairs, then go right again and you¡¯ll be in the main hall. Simple, yes?¡±

    ¡°Thank you so much, Bishop¡­ ah¡­?¡±

    ¡°Valentar,¡± he said.

    ¡°Bishop Valentar. And my apologies for the interruption.¡±

    She ducked away. I wonder if he calls in the hit, or there¡¯s a long chain of people who talk. Either way, now I know at least two people to be careful around.

    ***

    On the 17th, Mirian showed up at the journalist Celine¡¯s house, having located it via the Couriers. She wasn¡¯t home, so Mirian waited, idly practicing some of Jei¡¯s exercises as she did. After a while, she settled down to read, picking out Mathematical Underpinnings of Waves and the Arcane Forces, which was written by someone very good at math and very poor at writing.

    At last, Celine showed up¡ªor at least, she assumed that was who had a key to the apartment.

    ¡°Hi,¡± she said as she approached the woman from behind.

    ¡°Gods, you startled me. Look, I¡¯ve had a long day so¡ª¡±

    ¡°Someone¡¯s put a hit out on you. And the Magrio Broadsheet.¡±

    There was a moment of hesitation, then Celine¡¯s already pale face went completely white. ¡°W-what?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to protect you tonight, if that¡¯s okay. Micael Nezzar, Department of Public Security,¡± she said, and held out her hand.

    ¡°Are you¡­ you look really young. Do you have, ah, the signet¡­?¡±

    Mirian looked around. It was a narrow street, and the dinner hour, so the only people around were a bit distant. ¡°Currently undercover, so no. But I can do this,¡± she said, and levitated a foot off the ground. ¡°That¡¯s restricted magic, obviously. Non-agents aren¡¯t going to have that. I¡¯d also like to interview you and try to figure out why someone put the hit out. Any sensitive stories you¡¯re publishing?¡±

    Looking at Celine¡¯s face, Mirian knew she¡¯d just said the exact wrong thing. Probably several exact wrong things in a row. She amended her question with, ¡°Look, this isn¡¯t my usual gig. But what I lack in tact I make up for in spellpower.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯m¡­ do I need to contact the guar¡­¡± Celine trailed off. Her hand started trembling.

    She was about to call for help from the guards, but realized that was a bad idea. So she knows something. Are they corrupt here too?

    ¡°Tell you what. I¡¯m going to be across from you, and I¡¯ll ambush the assassin when they approach. We¡¯ll talk afterward, yeah? Keep your doors locked to slow them down. Please don¡¯t worry.¡±

    She¡¯s going to be worrying like crazy, you dolt, Mirian told herself. Well, there¡¯s always next time. But maybe I can still salvage this.

    Mirian camped out on a nearby roof. She caught Celine peering through the window several times and waved at her. She¡¯s not getting any sleep, Mirian thought with a sigh. Next time, try to be normal.

    It was hard to be normal, though. Death didn¡¯t scare her. The month¡¯s end was written in the cosmos. She knew things, but even explaining a fraction of what those things were and how she knew them made her sound like a lunatic¡ªor a terrifying Prophet. Knowledge of the future came so easily to her that she sometimes had to remind herself that normal people didn¡¯t have that.

    Other people did things like talk with friends and family, or go to work to make enough money, or wonder what the future might hold.

    She started to grow bored waiting, and then at last, she caught sight of a secretive pair of figures. They were strolling too fast to be a couple on a night walk, and the subtle way they checked their surroundings told her they had espionage training.

    They did nothing that was subtle; they headed straight for Celine¡¯s door, only checking that the streets were clear. Each of them had a wand in hand. There was something else. A pouch at each of their sides, with something squirming in it. She used detect life and saw that each of them had a mouse. Celine was up in her bed, lying down.

    Those are curse wands, then. Mirian wanted to capture them, but it was too risky to give anyone who knew curse magic a chance to use it on her.

    The first man picked the lock while the second looked around.

    Are they Deeps agents? Do they have orichalcum defenses?

    Mirian tapped into her soul repository. She could break spell resistance now.

    Celine may have been lying in her bed, but she hadn¡¯t been sleeping. She bolted upright as the door opened. Both assassins heard the clunk of feet hitting the thin wood floor and looked up. The narrow door had forced the men to line up.

    Mirian flew down from her building and used disintegrating beam, coated with a layer of soul energy. The beam went through both of their torsos, the wall behind them, and the wall behind that.

    Mirian closed the door and cast a light spell.

    ¡°Now do you believe me?¡± she asked Celine.

    Celine had grabbed a knife from her kitchen and was staring at her from the stairs, glancing back and forth between her and the corpses.

    ¡°A live mouse each in their bags. They were planning on cursing you with one of these,¡± she said, picking up the wands and showing her. She then sheathed one at her belt while she looked over the second.

    Celine swallowed. ¡°What¡­ do you want?¡±

    Mirian started looking over the corpses. ¡°I want to know why these two men were going to kill you. Then I¡¯ll clean up the bodies and leave you in peace. Oh, that¡¯s interesting,¡± she said, pulling a medallion out from under one of the assassin¡¯s shirts. They hadn¡¯t been equipped with orichalcum, but they had been carrying a medallion that marked them as part of the Palendurio Guard.

    ¡°You¡¯re not a Deeps agent,¡± Celine said.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not. They¡¯re also riddled with corruption. I¡¯m trying to get to the bottom of it all.¡±

    Mirian pointed one of the curse wands at the first mouse, channeling energy from her soul repository. The mouse keeled over dead, immediately.

    ¡°They actually¡­ Gods above, they really were going to kill me, weren¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Is anyone else a possible target?¡± She continued studying the corpses, going through their pockets. Each had a daggers and a lockpicking set, but they carried nothing that might identify them, and no orders. Interesting their assassins don¡¯t use repositories themselves, she noted. Specter hadn¡¯t used a repository either. Even though there was a group of people authorized to use necromancy, communicating with the Luminate Order, all of the soul magic she¡¯d seen so far had been primitive. Strange.

    ¡°Philus,¡± she said, which wasn¡¯t the name she¡¯d been expecting. Not Hamel. Interesting.

    ¡°Can you lead me to his house?¡±

    Celine put the knife back in her kitchen, then quickly threw on a coat and laced her boots.

    Philus¡¯s house was quite a ways away, west of the royal gardens, but still inside the old walls. Mirian cast her detect life spell again. Only the faint glow of insects and vermin lit up for her. The door was locked, but she used a force spell to break it open.

    Philus was lying on his bed, looking quite peaceful.

    ¡°Dead,¡± Mirian said softly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Gods¡­¡± Celine whispered. ¡°He was just¡­ I just talked to him.¡± She shivered. ¡°Is it safe to go back to¡­?¡±

    ¡°Probably not,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I know a place. The kitchen is open early.¡± Also I¡¯m staying there, so I have the key, she thought.

 Chapter 112 - Unraveling the Conspiracy

    Celine was still jumpy when they arrived at the Bard and Lion Inn, but the bright glyph lamps and soothing warmth and aromas from the kitchen seemed to calm her down.

    Mirian waited until she had a hot cup of tea to wrap her hands around, then finally asked, ¡°Who was Philus?¡±

    The journalist was silent for a while, then finally said, ¡°A secretary of the Palendurio Guard.¡±

    So they are corrupt, Mirian thought. ¡°And he discovered something.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Dozens of missing armor sets, accounted for in the inventory, but missing from the armory. He informed his superiors, but they¡¯ve been dragging their feet. So he came to me.¡±

    The armor is then given to the other group. So the Palendurio Guard¡¯s corruption may be as minor as taking bribes¡ªbut they must know that it would be used for impersonation.

    ¡°It¡­ it seemed like a minor story. A good one, but¡­ I can¡¯t believe¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s part of something much, much bigger,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Is there anything else you know?¡±

    Celine sat there, holding her mug of tea. Finally, she shook her head. ¡°I mean, I can give you the names of his superiors, who he reported the missing armor to.¡±

    She wrote the names in her journal. ¡°You can stay here, I¡¯d just use a false name,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Also I¡¯ve been warding up the place. Don¡¯t tell the owner that. Here. Some gold to take care of you. Please don¡¯t speak of me to anyone. The less I¡¯m noticed, the more effective I¡¯ll be.¡±

    ***

    Hamel was already dead. She¡¯d thought his assassination was related to Celine¡¯s, but she¡¯d have to spend another cycle to save him. Mirian started scouring the newspaper for any more suspicious deaths, digging up old broadsheets from the archives in the Great Library. There were two more journalists and four others who had died of heart attacks or in their beds at night, but those deaths had come well before the time loop started.

    The wands appeared to attack the soul directly at the heart, causing the damage to bleed through into the body. The formula was surprisingly simple, and from context, she was able to deduce a new rune from the wand, one that seemed to denote a coordinate inside the body, much like how the glyph system used coordinates.

    The resonance signature of the rune seemed quite similar to a heartfire salamander. The salamander¡¯s heart was its spell-organ, and the source of the flames it could exude. That its soul was used to mark a coordinate that matched the location of the heart made a sort of sense to her. Arenthia¡¯s lessons on modifying the soul caused changes on its surface, but it also made sense there would be runes that could modify the inner workings.

    And yet, Mirian thought, the void in my soul is where my heart is. Yet my heart is unharmed. Somehow, something is in there, but the damage doesn¡¯t transfer to my body. What does that imply?

    On the 20th, Mirian waited in the canals below the embassy. She used detect life again, which was fast becoming her favorite spell. The ability to see souls moving even through solid stone was incredibly useful.

    Sure enough, the same hour that the Akanan guards had all vanished from their patrols, she found those same guards coming down through a secret passage to a waiting boat. They had with them several people, including a man dressed in very fine clothes. Is that the Ambassador? she wondered. So he has enough contacts to know about the attack. But he¡¯s reported as killed, isn¡¯t he?

    Six guards all armed with combat wands were too many for her to be confident in taking, so she simply watched from the shadows as they hid him in a crate, donned disguises that made them look like laborers, then started paddling through the canals towards the river. The disguises were atrocious; sure, they were dressed like laborers, but they moved with the coordination and alertness of a military unit.

    Mirian watched them go, then made her way back up to the surface. There, she levitated over the gate and used force blast to shatter one of the second story windows.

    No alarm sounded.

    Already disabled, Mirian guessed.

    She wandered around. It was still early morning before sunrise, so everyone who hadn¡¯t fled was asleep. The Ambassador¡¯s room was easy enough to find. The doors were locked, but she broke them open. At first, there appeared to be a man sleeping in the large bed there, but when she went over to check, she could see the truth: there was a corpse, lying there, nicely tucked in.

    ¡°Who the fuck are you?¡± said a woman¡¯s voice behind her. She was speaking Eskanar.

    ¡°The Akanan Embassy is scheduled to be attacked later today,¡± Mirian replied, also in Eskanar. She turned to face the woman. ¡°The Ambassador seems to have known. But I guess he didn¡¯t care to inform you all.¡±

    The woman was still wearing her nightclothes, which meant she¡¯d just woken up. Her piercing blue eyes looked absolutely terrified. She was holding a wand pointed at Mirian. ¡°W-what¡­ what? I warn you, I know how to use this.¡±

    ¡°Come take a look,¡± Mirian said, ignoring the threat.

    Cautiously, the woman did. ¡°Oh God,¡± she said, then vomited on the carpet. Hastily, she wiped it away and pointed the wand at Mirian again.

    ¡°Where are the guards? Why is the alarm disabled?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ he said¡­ he said he was feeling ill, and not to disturb him tomorrow. Today. Oh God.¡± The woman rushed to the window. ¡°Where are the guards?¡±

    ¡°My name¡¯s Micael,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I¡¯m trying to get to the bottom of this conspiracy. Can you help me?¡±

    ***

    The woman¡¯s name was Kathera, and Mirian had watched her die in the streets last cycle. The Ambassador had shredded his files, but several cabinets of diplomatic communiques hadn¡¯t been moved or tampered with. Likely, the Ambassador hadn¡¯t used official communications to record his part in the conspiracy, but Mirian hoped he¡¯d missed something, and had just assumed it would all be destroyed in the fire.

    Kathera had helped organize the embassy staff who¡¯d been left to die, and together, they piled the cabinets onto a hired carriage. With the guards gone and the wards disabled, the only thing that had been binding them was their loyalty. With the corpse body-double to show them, it was no problem to convince them, then to evacuate well before the fake Palendurio Guards arrived.

    Not really sure where else to go with nearly two dozen people, Mirian brought them to Celine¡¯s ransacked building, and they set up next to the destroyed printing press.

    ¡°I¡¯ll ward the area. If you need me to return immediately, just step on this glyph right here,¡± Mirian told Kathera, gesturing to a basic ward she¡¯d scribed on the floor. ¡°I¡¯ll send Celine over, and she can help go through the records. I know she¡¯s trustworthy because they already tried to assassinate her. Look especially at communications with anyone in the Corrmier family.¡±

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    When she made to leave, Kathera said, ¡°Wait, where are you going?¡±

    Mirian turned at the door. ¡°I¡¯m going to go see if I can capture one of the soldiers who¡¯s about to help burn down the embassy.¡±

    The embassy workers she¡¯d saved looked at each other.

    ¡°See you in a few,¡± Mirian said.

    First, she stopped by the Bard and Lion to tell Celine what to do. Then she made her way down into the southern canals under Ducastil, using detect life to look for suspicious gatherings.  She¡¯d memorized the spot where they eventually scattered, but hadn¡¯t gotten a precise location on where they¡¯d come up from.

    Finding the gathering was surprisingly easy. Several people wearing Palendurio Guard uniforms were positioned to block off that section of the canal network. She could see dozens of souls through her spell through the stone walls around the bend.

    When she approached the guard, he said, ¡°Sorry, citizen. There¡¯s a dangerous criminal on the loose down here. We¡¯re blocking off his escape, but we don¡¯t want anyone getting hurt until he¡¯s apprehended.¡±

    ¡°I have a shipment to pick up,¡± Mirian said. ¡°It¡¯s time-sensitive. Are you sure I can¡¯t just¡­ perhaps with an escort?¡±

    The guard shook his head.

    ¡°Unbelievable!¡± Mirian said, feigning outrage. ¡°Let me by, it¡¯s a matter of great importance! I¡¯m sure the lot of you can handle a single person. Why aren¡¯t you helping out with the search?¡±

    One of the guards put his hand on his wand.

    ¡°I assure you¡ª¡± the other guard said.

    ¡°What¡¯s your name and your commanding officer?¡± Mirian demanded. ¡°I have a  mind to write a complaint!¡±

    The man snorted. ¡°Shove off,¡± he said. ¡°Our job is hard enough without petulant delivery boys making a scene. Go now, or you¡¯ll be arrested.¡±

    ¡°For demanding your name? That¡¯s my right! I was under the impression that we still followed the crown¡¯s law in Palendurio.¡±

    The guard she was talking to glanced at the other guard, who tilted his head slightly.

    ¡°Martinus. Under Captain Rufus. Now piss off. Go write your complaint.¡±

    Mirian gave them a smile. ¡°Thank you,¡± she said. ¡°I think I will.¡± When she was out of sight, she scribbled the names down in her journal, then committed them to memory.

    The nice thing about the underground canals was there were plenty of shadowed places to hide. Mirian took up watch near the operation. Once the false guards were on their way up, the men guarding the passages¡ªthere were six of them¡ªmoved up to take a new position. It was as she predicted: the secret staircase the embassy-burning force would come down.

    Mirian wandered over. ¡°Wait¡ªdidn¡¯t¡­ you were just over there!¡± Mirian said, faking exasperation. ¡°Now you¡¯re here?¡±

    The two guards looked at each other again. One of them glanced down at his wand.

    ¡°The criminal we were in pursuit of moved,¡± the first one, who¡¯d claimed his name was Martinus, said.

    ¡°How? Oh, never mind. How long will this take? Can I at least go to the other area?¡±

    ¡°Dunno. Sure.¡±

    Mirian turned to leave, then turned back again. ¡°Wait, how did he get from behind you over there to behind you over here? There¡¯s no connecting passage.¡±

    ¡°Piss off,¡± the second guard said.

    Now the first one had his hand on his wand. ¡°Rather suspicious for someone to be sneaking around the canals like this,¡± he said. ¡°You the suspect¡¯s accomplice or something? What do you think?¡±

    ¡°He might be,¡± the second guard said. ¡°Think we should take him in?¡±

    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Mirian said, retreating. So it doesn¡¯t take much to break down their cover story. She stayed in plain sight of them, moving back north to the river until she was far enough away, then took a right turn and doubled back to hide in another nearby passage. She passed the time by going over her notes on wave functions and arcane resonance.

    The minutes ticked by, and Mirian estimated the false guards were now ransacking the Governor¡¯s Mansion above. After a bit longer, she finally stood and cast detect life.

    The six guards were in position. She cast detect boat, an arcane spell that detected displacements of water at the surface. Why the spell existed, Mirian didn¡¯t know, but she was glad someone had bothered. There were four of the small craft used for transporting people sitting in the canal near those guards.

    Sure enough, she began to see the flickering signals of souls descending. As soon as they exited, she heard the commotion of hurried whispers and echoing clatters as the men and women of the false guards stripped their armor and began hiding it on the boats.

    Mirian had prepared another spell: detect bone, using the mental component so she could visualize it without any sort of sign, and an enhancement that specified human remains. There was no need to specify ¡®dead,¡¯ as people¡¯s natural spell resistance helped with that. There. Bags of remains, she noted.

    The false guards had incinerated the bodies, but not the bones. They were piling them onto the boats with the armor to dispose of. So if all four boats can be intercepted and searched, that could reveal the conspirators, she thought. Or would it be better to stop them before their attack?

    For now, she needed to find more about the conspiracy.

    Four boats with four people each left four more false guards to split up and go separate ways along the canals, while the six false guards that had been stationed as lookouts started marching along the walkways at a hurried pace.

    She had to give them credit; the operation would have gone perfectly. Had gone perfectly, last time. Now, though, their tactics gave her a perfect opportunity to ambush one of them. Mirian closed her eyes to better visualize her mental map of the tunnels. One of the people she was detecting would be relatively isolated, and against the currents of the canals. She cast her hide in shadows spell, then prepared a lightning bolt spell with two enhancements, one of which would decrease the lethality, and the other of which would cause temporary paralysis. She didn¡¯t need to use the aura penetration enhancement because she had soul energy from the repository to ensure that even orichalcum jewelry wouldn¡¯t stop her spell.

    One of the false guards rounded the corner. ¡°Shit,¡± she said, seeing Mirian¡¯s shadowy form, and drew her wand.

    That was all she had time for. Mirian¡¯s lightning bolt hit her square in the chest and sent her sprawling.

    Mirian didn¡¯t wait to see if she¡¯d attracted too much attention. She levitated over, grabbing the woman¡¯s wand, then hefted her body over her shoulder. She cast levitation again, speeding horizontally through one of the canals, wind whipping at her hair.

    She burst forth from the dark tunnels into daylight, dismissing her hide in shadows spell. Her camouflage spell wouldn¡¯t encompass both her and the captured woman, so she didn¡¯t bother.

    Mirian shot straight up, taking both of them high above the city. The woman started to stir, the paralysis spell wearing off.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t struggle if I were you,¡± Mirian said. ¡°It¡¯s a long way down.¡±

    She felt the woman freeze up as she realized how high above the city they were. She may have moaned, but it was hard to tell with the wind whipping past them.

    She continued flying them northwest until she was over the Magrio Press¡¯s building, then descended. As she did, she flipped through her spellbook to bind person, casting it on the woman as they landed, then switched to lift person to move her into the building, sending her sprawling on the floor.

    All around her, the Akanan embassy staff, now joined by Celine, stared at her.

    Mirian ignored them, eyes narrowing as she looked at the woman she¡¯d just captured. The ginger hair¡­ her facial structure¡­ it reminded her of someone. Then she burst out laughing. ¡°You¡¯re Daith¡¯s sister, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    The woman looked up at her. Her hands were trembling, despite the binding spell, and she could see the fear in her eyes.

    ¡°Gods, if I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d say you two were twins, even though you have eight years on him.¡± She searched her memory. She¡¯d spent plenty of cycles working with Daith as she learned the basics of combat magic. Gods, it¡¯s been years since then. ¡°Former battlemage in the army. Then he said you swapped to protecting high value trade goods. Mercenary work. Only, it seems you might not have told the whole truth. Betella, right? Sloppy work on the flame bolt wand you gave him. One of the capacitors needs work.¡±

    ¡°W-who are you?¡± Betella asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been getting that question a lot lately,¡± Mirian said, glancing at Celine. ¡°This is one of the false guards who just attacked the embassy. You saw the smoke, I assume?¡±

    No one replied, but they no doubt had. Celine would have failed to miss it as she crossed town to return to her old offices.

    ¡°So,¡± Mirian said, surveying the people around her. ¡°Let¡¯s start getting to the truth.¡±

 Chapter 113 - The Pure Blade

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Betella said, still terrified. ¡°Who are you? Who are all these people?¡±

    ¡°Betella, this is the staff of the Akanan Embassy you were sent to murder. Embassy staff, Betella. Now that we¡¯re past the pleasantries¡ª¡± Mirian started, but was interrupted by Betella bursting into tears.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± she wailed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t want¡ªI never wanted to¡ªbut they had¡ª¡± Her sobs overcame her ability to speak.

    Mirian stared at her. It hadn¡¯t been the reaction she¡¯d been expecting. Is it a show? Or were some of these mercenaries less than eager participants?

    It took some time, but Betella recovered enough to speak. ¡°Draythus started to question what we were doing. Then he said he wouldn¡¯t do it, he was out.¡± She took a deep breath, then continued. ¡°He was dead the next morning. The guard said it was a mugging gone wrong. No one believed it. Especially when the next day his family was found dead in their home. A home invasion gone wrong. All carved up. Except, no one took anything. Draythus was my friend. He¡­ he was the one that recruited me.¡±

    ¡°What is this organization?¡±

    Betella seemed surprised. ¡°You don¡¯t know? The Pure Blade.¡±

    Mirian sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of them.¡±

    It was Celine that piped up. ¡°A private mercenary group. They¡¯re run by Decian Corrmier.¡±

    Mirian made a face. ¡°Are the other noble families stupid? Give one brother the army, another brother a private army?¡±

    ¡°The Corrmiers have always been heavily a part of the armed forces,¡± Celine said.

    Mirian paced around. What would Nicolas say? ¡°There¡¯s two more army groups, but they¡¯re busy in Persama. Even before the lo¡ªbefore this all started, they¡¯d be pinned in place until it was too late. There¡¯s another division, another general, but she gets sent north. All of a sudden, there¡¯s no balance of power.¡± She snapped her head over to the embassy workers. ¡°How much do you know about Akana Praediar¡¯s plan to declare war on Baracuel?¡±

    ¡°What!?¡± Kathera exclaimed.

    Mirian muttered, ¡°Not much, apparently.¡± Louder, she said, ¡°Your Ambassador knew, obviously. Or at least, knew he had to get out before everything started.¡±

    ¡°But what¡­ why would we do that?¡± one of the embassy workers asked. ¡°You¡¯re our ally! Even with the attack, it¡¯s obviously a group of terrorists. The crown and your Parliament can denounce them¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not if Palendurio is suddenly put under siege by chaos. Not if they already knew it was going to happen. I doubt they even bother to send zephyr falcons, I bet the Akanan newspapers have already published news of the attack. And Parliament cannot denounce anyone if it is occupied by the army. At least, not meaningfully.¡± Also, there¡¯s that whole bit about your Prime Minister being assassinated. She decided not to tell them. What she knew was already suspicious enough.

    Another Akanan asked, ¡°But why?¡±

    ¡°Power,¡± Mirian said, waving her hand vaguely. ¡°If you¡¯re going to ask me why they want power, I haven¡¯t the slightest idea yet. They don¡¯t seem to want to do anything with it except get more, and then make sure no one else can have any. Either way, it leads them to be completely blinded. They¡¯re so busy grabbing for power they¡¯ve missed that the very edifice they¡¯re building their towers on is crumbling out from under them.¡± Thinking about how many structures collapsed in Ducastil and Charlem Palace, she added, ¡°That¡¯s not even a metaphor,¡± under her breath.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± Betella said. ¡°And how¡­ how do you know Daith anyways?¡±

    ¡°Met him at Torrviol Academy. Long story. Tell me more about this Pure Blade. The rest of you, I need more information about communications with the Corrmier family to Akana Praediar. I think most of the deals were done behind closed doors and wouldn¡¯t be in the records, but there must be signs. And any of the other noble families.¡± Realizing that not all the Akanans in the room spoke Friian, Mirian repeated her instructions in Eskanar.

    Then she turned to Betella. ¡°Tell me everything about the Pure Blade and the operation. Especially the little details. Names. Locations. Who they¡¯re using to keep everyone in line. Who the masterminds are. Everything. If you can do that, I can make sure Daith stays safe.¡±

    It took some time for Betella to explain. Mirian listened, occasionally jotting down notes.

    Celine¡¯s source, Philus, had clearly discovered the missing armor the Pure Blade ended up using in the attack. Betella could confirm that they¡¯d been getting the pieces in small shipments over the past month. She told a long story about how she¡¯d gotten into the Pure Blade for good reasons and to support her family, how she¡¯d never wanted to kill anyone, but she felt trapped. When she¡¯d seen Draythus¡¯s family killed, she¡¯d only thought of her own family. Her parents, two aunts, an uncle and three cousins all lived in Palendurio.

    She had no idea who was responsible for the assassinations. Behind the mercenary group was another organization, making sure they stayed in line. All she knew was that they seemed to know everything.

    ¡°The Deeps?¡± Mirian asked, finally dismissing the bind person spell. She thought Daith¡¯s sister was trustworthy enough, and she had her orichalcum-enhanced spell resistance anyways.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But¡­ it couldn¡¯t be them, could it? They¡¯re responsible for protecting us. And¡­ and that¡¯s not their purview, is it? The Department of Public Security is supposed to be focused on counter-espionage, protecting us from other countries. I mean, sure, it has spies but¡­.¡±

    Mirian could sympathize. She¡¯d once been so idealistic. ¡°Where are the Arcane Praetorians in all this? They could act as a powerful counter-force.¡±

    It was Celine who apparently knew the answer. ¡°A huge group of them left Palendurio on the 4th of Solem. Some sort of secret mission, but none of my sources would talk about it. They went to Alkazaria is all I know.¡±

    That¡¯s right, Mirian remembered. Rumor was it they left the city. But the 4th is too early for them to be reacting to the southern time traveler. So they weren¡¯t even reacting to the Dawn¡¯s Peace and their surprising victories, they were already scheduled to go there. No wonder they can¡¯t seem to change that event.

    So why doesn¡¯t he try something else? Mirian had been stuck in a rut defending Torrviol, but she¡¯d been making progress, and had reason to believe it had to do with the leyline collapse. Is there another Divine Monument down there? Is that why the southern traveler is so hellbent on seizing Alkazaria?

    She spent some time pacing around again. Then she turned to Betella. ¡°Where does Decian Corrmier live? What¡¯s the security around his manor like?¡±

    More wary glances were passed around the room.

    ¡°He lives on Kingmont Hill, with all the other noble families. They¡­ there¡¯s a lot of guards. You can¡¯t even walk around the area without special papers. I¡¯ve never been there. He always came to the headquarters.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Anything incriminating at the headquarters?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Betella said. ¡°I was just¡­ just another mercenary. I thought it¡¯d be regular contract work, the kind I¡¯d done a million times. And it was! For a whole year! And then¡­ and then¡­.¡± She shivered again.

    Mirian looked around. Here were all these people that knew things, but they didn¡¯t know the things she needed them to know. How many cycles would it take to unravel the conspiracy? Does it even matter?

    Her thoughts shifted again. If I could cut the leashes on the Pure Blade¡­ maybe I could even get the mercenaries as allies. But if it¡¯s the Deeps in charge, they¡¯re the ones that can actually threaten me. Specter was short-sighted enough to curse me, and if they¡¯re the ones behind this, they have no qualms killing thousands of innocent people. But if it¡¯s just the Corrmier family¡­

    ¡°How do they track you?¡± Mirian said to Betella.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Is it divination? Skin samples they use in a long-range divination device? What¡¯s to prevent someone from just packing up and fleeing with their family?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Betella admitted. ¡°Rumor was, they could hunt anyone down.¡±

    Mirian sighed. ¡°So what I need to know is, can they hunt you down right now?¡±

    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

    Betella¡¯s face blanched. ¡°Oh Gods.¡±

    ¡°Great. You don¡¯t know. Hold still.¡± She paged through her spellbook. She¡¯d only scribed a few divination spells. What I really need is a spellbook that lasts, she thought, for what had to be the thousandth time. She checked Betella over for glyphs, then started searching her. ¡°This. What is this?¡± Mirian asked, pulling an amulet she¡¯d been wearing from beneath her shirt.

    ¡°It¡¯s a protective artifact. Helps disrupt spells,¡± Betella said. ¡°That¡¯s what they¡­ oh no.¡±

    Mirian ripped it off her. Most of the glyphs were worked into a layer of the metal that had been sealed over, so she used shape metal to crack the outer shell open. She grimaced.

    ¡°Next question,¡± Mirian said. ¡°How long does it take the Pure Blade to organize an emergency operation? Were there other units ready and waiting if things went wrong? Where were they deployed?¡±

    That thought was interrupted by one of Mirian¡¯s wards around the area triggering. Elnu glyphs. Generally only found in fire combat spells.

    She cast detect life, then scanned around the building, looking through the walls. ¡°Never mind. Answered my own question,¡± she said. ¡°Everyone upstairs, now.¡± When they didn¡¯t move, she said, louder, ¡°Now!¡± then repeated the command in Eskanar.

    The nearby pedestrians had all cleared out. Through the walls, she could see seven people moving to take up positions around the building. As everyone else scrambled for the staircase, Mirian flipped through her spellbook.

    ¡°You¡¯re surrounded. Surrender, and no one gets hurt!¡± came a male voice from outside. He¡¯d likely heard her talking and realized they¡¯d been spotted.

    ¡°Liar,¡± Mirian said, and started to cast.

    There were two people at each of the cardinal points, plus a seventh standing at one of the corners. She couldn¡¯t take them all on at once, so she cast four simple light spells, enhanced for brightness, at eye level behind her. Then she cast hide in shadows and quickly moved to the side.

    All at once, the men surrounding the building moved to fire through the already broken windows, using infernal cone spells that cast wide sprays of fire. Blinded, and clearly not sure where Mirian had just gone, the attacks went wide, but Mirian put up a hasty heat shield up in case a stray cone hit her. She had the orichalcum, but its spell resistance would only be partially effective against spells that started transforming into heat before they hit the target.

    Parts of the building began to burn, including the piles of documents from the embassy.

    Mirian internally let out a curse, but she had to take care of the attackers first. She levitated herself up to the ceiling, holding herself steady while she cast filter air to prevent the smoke from choking her, then got her greater lightning spell ready, which was quite the balancing act. She could see the attackers hiding behind the walls, moving into new positions for another attack. One of them used a counterspell on her lights, and the room darkened.

    She was glad she had her celestial magic to give her an edge they didn¡¯t know about.

    Mirian saw the seventh mercenary touch something on his wrist¡ªlikely a signaling device of some sort. As soon as he did, all the other mercenaries attacked at once, this time using a mix of force, fire, lightning, and magnetic spells. The bolts and blasts created a cacophony as they burst apart the remains of the printing press and sent furniture flying.

    As soon as the first head was up though, Mirian sent a precise lightning bolt straight through the caster¡¯s head. Then she moved into a new position.

    ¡°Fuck! Where is he? We have one down.¡±

    The speaker was bent over the corpse of his colleague. Mirian swapped to force blades and slashed the air by him. The mercenaries were all wearing armor with glyph protections, so most of the blades did nothing, but at least one found flesh, causing him to scream and dive for better cover.

    Mirian moved again as a third flurry of spells criss-crossed the building. This is taking too long. The fire is spreading, she thought. She flattened herself horizontally, then quickly flew through the broken window where the two mercenaries were down. She felt at least two quick spells impact her, but the orichalcum was incredibly effective at dissipating the energy; she barely felt anything as she zoomed by.

    ¡°Holy shit,¡± one of the mercenaries said. ¡°Why does he ha¡ª¡±

    Mirian sent a lightning bolt through him, then dodged to the side as two more mercenaries pointed wands at her and lanced another one.

    Three down, one injured, she counted. There were screams coming from the second floor of the building. She needed to hurry, before the fire smoked the people she was protecting out or collapsed the building on top of them.

    Mirian dodged again, circling around the building from above. The mercenaries on the other side that hadn¡¯t seen her fly out didn¡¯t even know to look up. She took out two more before they¡¯d even realized she was attacking them.

    ¡°He¡¯s flying! Shit!¡± one of them called out as he dove behind a wall. ¡°And look for the shadow spell he¡¯s using!¡±

    Mirian was hemorrhaging auric mana, and now they knew what to look for, so she dismissed her shield and camouflage. There were only two mercenaries left, scanning the sky from the other side of the building. She landed. Between them was the building, the first floor now full of smoke and flames. She could still see them clearly with her detect life spell giving their forms an ethereal glow. Low on auric mana, she decided to conserve what she had left, and pulled out the curse wand from the assassin. Aiming carefully, she targeted the first man and channeled from her soul repository.

    He clutched his chest, screamed, and then collapsed to the ground. A black spot had erupted in his soul, the tendrils expanding out.

    The last man looked at his companion with horror. ¡°Oh Gods. They¡¯re all dead. I surrender! I surrender!¡± he called out, and dropped his wand.

    Mirian circled around the building, holding the assassin¡¯s wand level at the man. ¡°Do you have any fire-fighting spells?¡± she demanded.

    ¡°N-no,¡± the man said.

    ¡°What about gather smoke?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just a sorcerer. All I have are¡ª¡±

    ¡°Useless,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Lie on the ground over there. If you move, I¡¯ll kill you.¡± As he complied, she flipped through her spellbook. She didn¡¯t have enough time to levitate back and forth with everyone, nor any of the larger heat displacement spells that might instantly kill the fire. She could try it with raw magic, but that would be too inefficient, and she was already low on mana.

    She already knew she had no precise spell to put out the fire. Once again, she¡¯d have to use the trick of combining glyphs from different places in her spellbook.

    Her best bet was gather smoke as a base. The spell gathered particles from a bounded area into a smaller area. What she needed was to change what it did with the particles. Mirian flipped through her spellbook, noting pages where she had the right glyphs to modify the resulting area where the smoke would be gathered, changing it from a small spherical area to a large rectangular area the size of the building.

    There was nothing. She knew the glyphs, but she hadn¡¯t scribed them yet in her book. Cursing again the fact that she had to scribe each cycle for hours and still didn¡¯t have what she needed, she changed her mind on how to modify the output. I can add a mental component that describes where the particles I gather go.

    It was unconventional to the point that she¡¯d never heard of anyone doing that with the a particle-movement type spell. It would take flipping between three pages.

    The screams from the second floor told her she needed to hurry.

    Mirian channeled, keeping the the flows of mana through the shaper glyphs steady as she flipped to the second page, then the third. Then she held the shape she wanted in her mind, much like an illusion spell shaped light like the picture she imagined.

    She strained, holding the spell in place. The fire was trying to suck air in from the outside to feed it, but she needed to starve it of oxygen. She compressed the smoke downward, then waited. At first, she could still see the red and orange tongues of flame lashing out, but soon enough they choked on their own smoke. It built up until it was an impenetrable layer of bubbling black. Then she gathered it up.

    Her peripheral vision caught movement behind her. The mercenary who had surrendered had decided she was too busy to keep her promise, and had broken into a sprint towards her, dagger out.

    Idiot, she thought, but there was no time to cast a different spell. What he didn¡¯t seem to realize is that with the mental component, she could change the parameters of the result at a whim, and that she was still channeling.

    She moved the smoke she¡¯d gathered into a column and sent it at him.

    The mercenary had a brief flash of terror in his eyes before the deadly black cloud hit him. She fed it into his face, coiling into him like an inky python. He wouldn¡¯t have even had time to choke; it probably burst open his lungs. He twitched violently once, then twice, then was still.

    That was when she heard the wooden floor of the building begin to groan. The floor¡¯s about to collapse, she knew. ¡°Back downstairs! Hurry!¡± Mirian said, hoping that someone else would do the translating. She sprinted back into the building, where only cinders glowed. This time, there wasn¡¯t even time to cast a spell. She tapped into her arcane catalyst, then created a barrier of force using raw magic to reinforce the buckling wood above her.

    Her body trembled with the strain as she fed more and more auric mana into the improvised spell. Some part of her registered that the people were coming back down now and running out the door, but her focus was fixed on the ceiling.

    ¡°That¡¯s everyone!¡± she heard someone say.

    Mirian released the spell then dove to the side. There was the sound of cracking wood and tumbling furniture, and then the center part of the floor collapsed. Sprawled out on the ground, she watched as the collapse continued, the structural failure spreading. She activated her levitation wand so that it dragged her sideways out the door, and just in time. Chunks of the building came crashing down, along with heavy furniture. A thick dust cloud spread out, and she realized she was still maintaining her filter air spell.

    With a groan, she stood, then used gather smoke again¡ªjust the normal spell¡ªto turn the dust into a harmless gray ball, then dismissed the spell.

    By then, a crowd had gathered, including several guards.

    One of the guards was just standing there, gaping. ¡°What in the five hells?¡± he asked.

    The crowd didn¡¯t seem sure what to think. On one hand, she¡¯d just saved an entire group from a burning building. On the other hand, there were seven corpses strewn about the ground.

    Great, Mirian thought.

 Chapter 114 - The Path Forward

    The crowd stood outside the smoldering wreckage of the Magrio Broadsheet¡¯s building, now made up of embassy staff, random people, and at least four guards.

    Mirian considered her options. By now, it was a bit late to hide her presence in Palendurio to anyone paying attention. On the other hand, she didn¡¯t think Sulvorath could mobilize in time to do anything to her. If he even waited two days, he couldn¡¯t go south by train. What about his airship? Is he still destroying it as soon as he arrives?

    The crowd was still staring. I can still disappear after this. Let¡¯s see what kind of a disruption I can make.

    ¡°The dead ones are Pure Blade mercenaries. The group is responsible for attacking the Akanan Embassy, and then trying again to finish them off just now.¡± Mirian said loudly, gesturing to the Akanans who were even now trying to brush the soot off and get the ash out of their lungs. With this big a crowd, there would be no more silencing. Sulvorath and the agents he could muster gained an advantage when the truth was veiled and they could strike from the shadows, not when she¡¯d already mobilized a backing of supporters.

    There were murmurs in the crowd. The guards weren¡¯t sure what to say.

    ¡°The Pure Blade impersonated the Palendurio Guard, stealing from their armory in preparation, and killing at least one of the guards at Ducastil,¡± she announced. ¡°They then assassinated Governor Palamas.¡±

    This time, the crowd¡¯s voice was full of shock and anger.

    Mirian walked over to Betella. ¡°This woman was part of the Pure Blade, and has offered to testify to their crimes.¡±

    Betella gave her a shocked look, then took a deep breath. ¡°W-what¡­ what he says is true,¡± she managed. ¡°All of it.¡±

    Mirian gestured for the guards to come closer, and lowered her voice. ¡°These people need to be taken to a secure location, and protected. The Pure Blade was only one part of this conspiracy. Quash the rumors of Akanan merchants conspiring. Do not trust General Corrmier. They will be safest in King Palamas¡¯s palace. You have traitors in your midst,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s why secretary Philus was also assassinated just a few days ago.¡± That was speculation, but she was confident of it at this point. The conspirators had already shown in Torrviol they liked securing the guard in order to run rampant. She just wasn¡¯t ready to put all her guesses on the table yet, even if she suspected the Pure Blade mercenary in the canal had given her Captain Rufus¡¯s name because he knew he would quash any investigation. Captain Rufus was also on the list of names Celine had given her who secretary Philus reported to.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± one of the guards asked.

    ¡°No one you¡¯ve heard of,¡± she replied.

    ***

    What followed next made Mirian want to pull out her hair. It took nearly an hour of the guard arguing amongst each other what to do while Mirian retold a summary of the events and they interviewed the embassy staff. Mirian finally gave her name as Micael, and there was much consternation as they tried to figure out who she was, even as she repeatedly explained that she was a nobody who had stumbled into this plot.

    When they finally made it to Charlem Palace, the interrogations by guards were replaced by interrogations by increasingly skeptical officials. She had little time to appreciate the white marble and exquisite decorations of the place; her attention kept focusing on some idiot who wouldn¡¯t listen to reason.

    Having an entire gaggle of Akanan embassy workers who had been thought dead just a few hours earlier certainly made them hard to ignore, though, and every single one of them had seen the fake corpse lying in the Ambassador¡¯s bed. Eventually, officials of the Crown agreed to host the embassy staff.

    ¡°Did you find any suspicious communiques?¡± Mirian asked Kathera as evening approached.

    Kathera lowered her voice and spoke to her in Eskanar. ¡°There were some strange messages going back and forth, but that¡¯s nothing new. The Republic Intelligence Division isn¡¯t supposed to use the embassy, but it does, and your own Department of Public Security knows they do. But regular staff aren¡¯t privy to their coded messages.¡± She sighed and said, ¡°But now they¡¯re all burnt up anyways. Thank you, though. We owe you our lives.¡±

    Mirian smiled, but in her head, she was thinking, just wait a few days.

    The room they¡¯d ended up in was full of velvet cushions and fine wood furniture, and four crystal chandeliers hung from the tall ceiling. The ceiling itself was painted, showing various battles the noble families had taken part of. Slowly, the room was emptying out as the embassy staff were found secure accommodations. By then, Betella had been escorted to a special room to be interrogated by the Crown Bureau (¡°Not the Deeps,¡± Mirian had insisted).

    As Kathera departed, one of the Arcane Praetorians that had joined them in the room cleared his throat. Grestave, she remembered, from when he¡¯d introduced himself some two hours ago. ¡°There¡¯s still the small matter of you, Micael,¡± he said. ¡°You did freely admit to using illegal magic.¡±

    ¡°Gods above,¡± Mirian muttered, just wanting to be done with the talking. ¡°Yes, that was me.¡± Can the fact that I just saved a dozen people¡¯s lives directly give me a one-time pass? she wanted to say.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been sidestepping your identity all evening. You implied you were a Deeps agent, but never actually said it. But then you don¡¯t trust them, and those agents are not allowed levitation wands anyways except in specially approved cases. There¡¯s no Micael of your age on the census records from Madinahr, by the way. I had the secretaries check.¡±

    Again and again and again, Mirian thought. ¡°The truth is less believable than the lies,¡± she said. She glanced around the room, and saw that there were several other guards hanging around the doors, ostensibly helping guide and protect the embassy workers and Celine, but it just as well barred her way as well. Stupid, Mirian thought. I should have just flown off as soon as the fire was out.

    ¡°Try me,¡± Grestave said.

    Mirian embraced her focus, checking the Praetorian and everyone else in the room for any rune magic. Well, might as well try to talk before I fight my way out, she thought. Her auric mana was still low, but it had regenerated over the past few hours. ¡°I¡¯m going to reiterate something important. The Department of Public Security cannot be trusted. I know that because one of their agents is pretending to be Adria Gavell. But Adria Gavell died three years ago.¡±

    Grestave looked more confused than worried. ¡°That can¡¯t be right.¡±

    ¡°All of Torrviol is compromised. It¡¯s overrun by Akanan agents, and they¡¯ve bought off the guard and killed anyone who could sound the alarm. A Deeps turncoat who goes by the name Specter is up there,¡± she started, while thinking again and again and again. How many times do I have to tell people about this? After explaining she said, ¡°Now, what usually happens is someone like you goes running off because I¡¯ve said enough scary stuff you want to check, but you don¡¯t actually trust me. Then I explain a bunch of things to more people again, and so on and so forth until I¡¯m absolutely sick of talking, and then everyone realizes I¡¯m right, except by then I¡¯ve done all the explaining, and I¡¯ve learned nothing. But it¡¯s me who needs to learn from you.¡±

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    The other guards were looking over, and Grestave glanced at them for reassurance. His hand went to his wand.

    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Mirian snarled. ¡°You think your orichalcum can save you? I can pierce it. Easily. Get your hand away from your wand and listen. You¡¯ve started to get the reports of the strange magical eruptions, right?¡±

    Grestave gave a careful nod, but his entire body was tensed up.

    ¡°It just gets worse from here. The reason you¡¯ve never heard of me is that I¡¯m a new Prophet. Only something¡¯s gone wrong. There¡¯s other Prophets too, traveling through time just like me, only, they don¡¯t want to stop the cataclysm that¡¯s coming. So I need the details about me to be left out of the reports. And I need people like you to help me start untangling the mess of Palendurio.¡±

    ¡°What you ask¡­ isn¡¯t possible,¡± Grestave said.

    ¡°How many impossible things do you need to see before your narrow mind widens?¡± Mirian snapped. She knew she wasn¡¯t being diplomatic enough. She needed to be more strategic about getting information she could use later, but she was so tired of explaining herself, and fed up with the hours of frustrating talks they¡¯d already had.

    ¡°We can investigate your claims, but we can¡¯t¡­ these things take time,¡± Grestave said.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have time,¡± Mirian said. ¡°In one day, the newspapers and agents of an unknown party¡ªprobably the Deeps¡ªare going to provoke riots. In two days, General Corrmier uses that as an excuse to bring in the army, the first stage of a coup against Baracuel¡¯s rightful government. Who controls the Pure Blade? His nephew. And the Pure Blade already struck at the king¡¯s brother. In three days, the Akanans will begin their invasion of Baracuel. Are you starting to understand, yet?¡±

    Grestave was silent, and now, Mirian could see that he wasn¡¯t sure what to do.

    ¡°There¡¯s too many variables at play, and I need more information. In three days, I¡¯ll be back to talk with you. You have my word. Go,¡±¡ªshe waved her hand around¡ª¡°investigate.¡± She started walking for the door, though she was paying close attention to her peripheral vision.

    ¡°Wait. Wait¡ªI¡­ I can¡¯t just let you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Tell them you couldn¡¯t stop me,¡± Mirian said, and then she was out the door. Briefly, she felt the tendrils of a hold person spell, but her own orichalcum caused the spell to fail. Then, she was down the hall, then out in the courtyard, and then she just levitated away, ignoring the shocked looks of the people in the courtyard.

    ***

    She stopped by the Royal Couriers. Sure enough, her two letters were waiting.

    Lecne¡¯s letter was similar. Deeps operations intensified in Cairnmouth. The cult had been able to rescue several people who were taken for interrogation. Those people reported being asked repeatedly about her, and also a series of strange questions about events. So Sulvorath¡¯s also trying to find key timeline markers of activity.

    There were other questions too. They got information about names, places, contacts, and information that they knew that no one else knew. He¡¯s looking for more people he can exploit.

    Abruptly, the Deeps investigation had cut off sometime around the 15th.

    Mirian read Valen¡¯s letter next.

    It began with her describing several erotic scenarios, and Mirian found herself blushing as she skimmed through it. Of course you did, she thought, and then found herself chuckling. She felt her shoulders relax, and realized how much tension she¡¯d been storing there. Mirian took several deep breaths, then continued to the important part.

    Valen had taken several pages of notes, far more than Lecne. Maybe too many notes. Some of it was inane garbage about rumors among the students¡ªthough Mirian realized that was actually quite helpful to compare to what she knew the rumors were like long before Sulvorath¡¯s incursion. The next part detailed the changes that had overcome Torrviol. Jei disappeared, as she usually did. Guards started arresting and interrogating people, seemingly at random. Several others disappeared, but the guard denied any knowledge of it. Again, he¡¯s looking for details about people¡¯s lives. Power through information and established social structures.

    Then, on the 14th, Archmage Luspire was involved in a fight. What actually happened was unclear, and Luspire certainly hadn¡¯t told anyone that would talk to Valen about it, but it ended with a smoking hole in Torrian Tower.

    Shortly after, the Torrviol Guard was banned from entering the Academy grounds and Luspire deputized several senior apprentices as guards. Mirian found herself grinning. If she was right, Luspire had killed either Specter or Sulvorath. Either way, his control of Torrviol and Cairnmouth had been severed. Looks like I won¡¯t have to go into hiding after all.

    What was interesting was also what she didn¡¯t see evidence of. Sulvorath clearly knew magic, but there was no evidence of professors suddenly being pulled for special lessons. It was political power he was going after.

    And for him, it must be easy. If you just let things go the way they¡¯ve been going, there¡¯s social inertia. He¡¯s not trying to change anything or topple anyone, just seize the reins and join them. I¡¯m always fighting against the current. I¡¯m trying to stop the conspiracy, but he¡¯s just embraced it. My work will always be harder, but his limits his flexibility.

    As Mirian returned to the Bard and Lion and started reinforcing her wards there, she contemplated the dynamic. Sulvorath thinks this can be won by seizing the levers of political power, especially the intelligence networks and elite. The southern traveler thinks it can be won by military power and strategic genius. I¡¯m relying on magical power and deep knowledge of the crisis.

    Perhaps she was the fool, but she couldn¡¯t help but think that the other two time travelers were ignoring the phenomena that were causing the crisis in the first place. And it¡¯s a magical phenomenon. Even if they¡¯re right about how human power works in normal circumstances, these aren¡¯t normal circumstances.

    Though it does seem Sulvorath is studying the Divine Monument. But he¡¯s also killing Jei each cycle, the key researcher of the Monument. How does he expect to make progress?

    Mirian brewed a cup of Zhighuan tea, thinking of Jei as she let the aroma waft about, and took a seat out on her balcony. Every so often, a faint glow would touch the darkening sky. The eruptions are more intense along Palendurio, and when the leyline destabilizes, it causes the most damage here. Is that chance, or is there a reason for it?

    She continued to contemplate what she¡¯d learned. At a certain point, I¡¯ll have to wade into the fight for political power. But right now, I can¡¯t both stay hidden and make a play for the levers of power in Palendurio. I can¡¯t risk getting the attention of the Deeps too early in the cycle. This time, I got lucky. I can¡¯t count on that sabotage technique to work every time.

    So what would it be? Magical power is the only kind I can take with me. And if I can figure out how the Prophet¡¯s relics work, I can gain an advantage no one has. The Ominian would have foreseen all of this. I must have the time I need.

    Mirian did wonder still where the power for the time loop came from. Jei¡¯s equations implied there must be a huge injection of arcane power to send a soul back. Is it drawing from the leylines? Maybe those will stabilize and weaken on their own. Is that what the other travelers are assuming? But there¡¯s no data on that. It could very well be coming from a divine source we can¡¯t even conceive of. Maybe they assume the Ominian will end the loops when They¡¯re satisfied with the outcome. After all, that¡¯s presumably what happened with the other Prophets. But isn¡¯t the outcome They want us to change the moon falling? Surely, no outcome that results in the destruction of Enteria would satisfy Them.

    There were too many questions. Too many paths to explore. She¡¯d made up her mind, though. She needed to focus. Her attention was split among too many goals, and it could too easily lead to a mistake. Politics would have to be set aside. The Prophet¡¯s relics had to be her top priority.

    In the morning, Mirian bought several more myrvites off the Syndicates, then donned the acolyte¡¯s robe she¡¯d ordered from the tailor¡¯s shop and headed for the Grand Sanctum.

 Chapter 115 - Deeper Into The Dirt

    Mirian altered her ¡®Micael¡¯ disguise in several points, strapped several wands and spells beneath her robe, then walked into the Grand Sanctum. The Luminate Guard ignored her, assuming that the wards in the back would catch her if she was an intruder. She went off to an alcove, ostensibly to pray, but then used her camouflage spell and levitation to sneak in through the balcony. It would never have worked in Torrviol, but here, there was just too much going on for a single person to be worth that much attention.

    She spent the next few hours learning names and getting a sense of the ebbs and flows of people as they moved from prayers to studies to different assigned tasks. She used the excuse of being new to Palendurio to ask a lot of questions, subtly getting at the security procedures. It seemed there was little security in terms of using runes. Instead, mentors simply knew their acolytes, and teachers knew their classes.

    The other interesting thing she discovered was how the priests seemed to conceptualize the magic they were doing. When she asked about how the repositories were charged, the priest she was talking to said, ¡°It¡¯s not a charge, but a blessing. The ritual merely signals the Gods our intent of piety; it is Their blessing that the repositories contain.¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t argue. They don¡¯t even realize what they¡¯re doing is necromancy because they¡¯re trained to think of it differently, she realized. She preferred the honest terminology, but started asking her questions differently using their own language.

    She wondered if their deceptive language was undermining their ability to keep the runes in the Sanctum charged and in good repair. Surely, they must still have the knowledge that certain runes need certain soul-types or they¡¯re impossible to craft, she thought. But she avoided inquiring directly, since those were secrets beyond what a mere acolyte would know.

    At night, she found an excuse to run a late night errand just before the guards changed over. It was easy. She¡¯d overestimated how secure the Grand Sanctum actually was. Better to be too careful, though.

    By then, there were small eruptions of rioting in Palendurio, but they were confused. The newspapers had indeed published exact copies of the articles they¡¯d published last time, which told Mirian it was preplanned. It also told her there were people looking to burn down Akanan businesses for any reason at all.

    She spent most of the next day scouting out the Grand Sanctum, and sure enough General Corrmier went ahead with his plans. By noon of the 22nd, the army was seizing bridges and main avenues with the excuse of putting down the already sparse rioting.

    What would the general do if the presses of his newspapers were smashed and the Pure Blade attack prevented entirely?

    Mirian readjusted her disguise back to what it had been a few days prior, then made her way over to Charlem Palace, bypassing the security checkpoints by levitating up to the balcony of the room where Kathera was staying and knocked on the door.

    Kathera, who was sitting in a ridiculously ornate chair, started and clutched her heart upon seeing Mirian. After recovering, she opened the door. ¡°Can you not use the door like a normal person?¡± she admonished her in Eskinar.

    ¡°I don¡¯t trust any of those people,¡± she said, gesturing vaguely at the rest of the palace. She started by casting detect life, then several divination spells. As far as she could tell, there were plenty of defensive wards, but nothing that seemed like an obvious trap.

    She left Kathera¡¯s room and headed to the meeting room where one of the palace guards did a double-take upon seeing her. ¡°Go get Grestave,¡± she said. ¡°We have a meeting.¡±

    Grestave must have been on break, because he was still adjusting his uniform as he burst through the door a few minutes later and had some sauce on his face he¡¯d missed. ¡°You came back,¡± he said. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you use the front door?¡±

    ¡°Everyone¡¯s a critic,¡± Mirian complained. ¡°Because I don¡¯t trust you yet. This is only the second time I¡¯ve been in Palendurio for a cycle, and let me tell you, it¡¯s a hell of a mess here. Well? Was I right?¡±

    ¡°You were,¡± Grestave said. ¡°How did¡ª?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Mirian said. ¡°You already got to ask me a bunch of questions. Now it¡¯s my turn. What do the Arcane Praetorians know about the magical eruptions that have been taking place across the two continents?¡±

    ¡°If you would just¡ª¡±

    ¡°Answer it or I leave.¡±

    Grestave grimaced. ¡°Fine. Nothing. Or basically nothing. They¡¯re seen most often in cities and by railroad tracks, but there¡¯s a selection bias there. There¡¯s a correlation with population, but of course there is. The more people are around, the more that are reported. Beyond that, there¡¯s no pattern. Publicly, the Akanans are insisting it¡¯s a terrorist group, but internally, they don¡¯t know any more than we do. It could just be a thing the Labyrinth coughs up from time to time, sort of like how it will spontaneously deposit a bunch of myrvites from one of its eco-nodes somewhere. They¡¯ve been going on for at least fifty years, possibly longer. We had no reason to believe they¡¯d grow worse until recently.¡±

    ¡°Fifty years?¡± Mirian said, in disbelief. Ominian, why did you wait so long? ¡°Next question. What holds the Department of Public Security accountable to the law?¡±

    Grestave was silent for a time. ¡°Presumably, Parliament,¡± he said. ¡°They can replace the Director, who can in turn replace the Directors of the various departments. There¡¯s also internal reviews.¡±

    ¡°And who gives Parliament intelligence reports on the state of Baracuel¡¯s departments, including their own?¡±

    ¡°I see your point,¡± he said.

    ¡°No wonder my government preparatory class never made any sense,¡± Mirian muttered.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. Next question. Why do the Arcane Praetorians leave Palendurio on the 4th?¡±

    Grestave hesitated. ¡°I really can¡¯t tell you that one. It¡¯s an ongoing operation¡ª¡±

    ¡°Am I a risk to go down to Alkazaria and ruin it? I¡¯m fairly certain Dawn¡¯s Peace already did that. And the train lines there are already cut, and more tracks will be destroyed tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°They got a tip about a fugitive. That¡¯s all I can say.¡±

    What sort of fugitive needs that many Praetorians? Is there an archmage on the loose I don¡¯t know about?

    ¡°How much do you know about the soul magic the Deeps are using?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°You mean¡­ necromancy?¡±

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    ¡°They can¡¯t use necromancy. It¡¯s banned.¡±

    ¡°Well, they do anyways. Next question. How is orichalcum made?¡±

    ¡°They use¡ª? I don¡¯t know. And how did you even learn what¡ª¡±

    ¡°How would I contact the Arcane Praetorians and alert them to the Pure Blade¡¯s conspiracy next time? Who in the Palendurio Guard is loyal to the Palamas family, not the Corrmiers?¡±

    Mirian was disappointed by how little information Grestave could actually give her. As she gained more experience, she¡¯d come to find there was a kind of person who simply couldn¡¯t bear to believe her future knowledge and what it implied. Perhaps they couldn¡¯t handle it. Perhaps they were too skeptical. But the end result was people like Grestave, who only gave her superficial knowledge.

    After a while, Grestave interrupted her and said, ¡°Do I get a question?¡±

    ¡°You get one,¡± she said.

    ¡°How did you come to this knowledge you have?¡±

    He understood she knew things that were impossible, but couldn¡¯t wrap his head around the time loop. She shook her head. ¡°You still don¡¯t understand. I¡¯ve told you I¡¯m a Prophet, and you just can¡¯t accept it.¡±

    ¡°I really need you to meet with the Royal Investigators. Together¡ª¡±

    ¡°You have nine days left until the world ends,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I suggest you use it wisely.¡± Then she left, and once again, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to stop her.

    ***

    Mirian mostly ignored the rest of the political fallout. It devolved into a conflict between the noble houses again, with General Corrmier¡¯s access to the army giving him the edge. King Palamas and Parliament were more worried about the coup than some strange person claiming to be a Prophet.

    The ripples she¡¯d made hadn¡¯t been big enough, which didn¡¯t surprise her. Her conversation had solidified her commitment to stepping back from the conspiracy until she had more power, and a better understanding of Sulvorath¡¯s ability to project power, and his goals.

    Over the next few days, she committed to her research, buying up Syndicate-smuggled myrvites as fast as they could bring them to her as she continued to research new runes and analyze the soul energy she had access to. She made a version of the soul repository that helped her quantify the resonance she¡¯d been sensing, though it worked by activating different ¡®tiers¡¯ of runes based on the intensity of the soul energy in the repository. It seemed that energy from a higher resonance could always be used to create a lower resonance rune, which she had sort of known from her lessons with Arenthia, but now could use to start creating a rune classification system. Someone must have already done that, but until she could find advanced knowledge of soul magic, she¡¯d just have to figure it out on her own.

    On the 1st of Duala, Mirian waited by the Syndicate smuggling operation for the leyline eruption.

    Sure enough, the earthquakes shook apart the city, and another antimagic wave came smashing through the city. Mirian was ready for her reliquaries to have their stored energy stripped, and already had her bindings on the myrivtes below.

    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    This time, she¡¯d experimented with various wards and shields to protect her spellbook. None of it even impeded the antimagic shockwave that had traveled through the heart of the city. She made it back to the Bard and Lion and re-scribed her most critical spells, then tore them out to hide. She had prepared a satchel with several canteens of water and dried food, so grabbed that on her way out the door and made her way into the Grand Sanctum.

    So soon after the quake, there was still widespread chaos as acolytes and priests ran about, desperately trying to clear rubble and heal the wounded. Of course, as they were no-doubt finding, their repositories with the soul energy they needed for healing the worst wounds had been emptied. And if they believe that is the literal blessing of the Ominian, what must that do to their faith?

    Mirian cast a filter air spell, keeping it right on top of her mouth and nostrils so that no transparent bubble of air would be visible in front of her face, then headed deeper in. The air was filled with groans and screams. Her every instinct was to help. But you can¡¯t. Not this time, she told herself.

    She picked her way through several passages, casting a low powered light spell in places where the lamps had died or been shattered. Most of the lamps used some sort of strange chemistry that didn¡¯t need oxygen, so plenty were still burning. Twice, she reached dead-ends where tunnels had completely collapsed and she had to double back. Finally, she found a route to the main hall, dismissing her spell to avoid suspicion.

    There was a crowd in the main hall, shrouded mostly in darkness. ¡°How did you get through?¡± one of them asked.

    ¡°Down that tunnel, then left at the junction, right, spiral around and then you¡¯ll be by the shrines. The path¡¯s open.¡± They thanked her as they filed out. They¡¯d have to crawl in the dark in several places, so it would be slow going, but this group at least would make it out. Better you¡¯re not around to question what I¡¯m doing, she thought, watching them leave.

    Mirian made her way into one of the rooms where the priests instructed new acolytes on celestial magic. It had already been evacuated, minus the one poor acolyte who had been pulverized by a limestone block. She walked around the puddle of blood, examining the tables and shelves. There were several primers on runes, but when she skimmed them, none of them contained new runes.

    She moved on to the library.

    ¡°Is someone there?¡± a voice called out.

    Mirian spotted a man trapped underneath a fallen bookcase. ¡°I can get you out,¡± she said.

    ¡°Oh thank the Ominian. I thought¡ªI thought I was going to die,¡± the priest said.

    Mirian pretended to strain against the bookshelf while using the lift object sheet she¡¯d wrapped around her left arm. His left leg was bent at an unnatural angle, and he groaned, eyes watering, as he dragged himself out. Mirian let the shelf slam back down, kicking up another cloud of dust. The priest let out a wet cough.

    ¡°I had¡­¡± He coughed again, gasping for breath. ¡°Had to heal myself after the quake, using the inherent blessing,¡± he managed. ¡°Couldn¡¯t get everything.¡±

    Mirian examined his soul. He had indeed used it to heal himself, as its currents were weak and light faded. Based on the black swirls in his chest, his lung had been punctured, and it was obvious his leg was broken. Wordlessly, she used the generic soul repository to heal him, then repeated to him how to find his way out.

    ¡°You¡¯re only an acolyte. And the repositories were emptied by¡­ how did you do that?¡±

    ¡°The Ominian willed it,¡± Mirian said, which wasn¡¯t entirely false.

    ¡°Their blessings are great,¡± the priest said, though his tone was doubtful. ¡°Thank you. Are you¡­?¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯m tasked with the rescue effort.¡±

    He gave her one more look back, then scrambled for the exit.

    As soon as he left, Mirian cast a light spell so that she didn¡¯t have to strain her eyes in the weak lamplight, then started sorting through the books. There were books about the Prophets and the saints, about the history of the Luminates, but they were the kinds of books she could also find in Bainrose or the Great Library, or that Lecne had already shown her.

    Would have been too easy, she thought.

    This time, she made her way up to the bishop¡¯s quarters. She closed her eyes to better recall which way Lancel had gone when she followed him, then made her way up, only to find the passage blocked. There were muffled voices behind the cave-in.

    No hiding what I can do now, she thought. She looked around at the cracks in the ceiling, then at the huge chunks of rock that had come down. There was a massive intact slab of limestone that had come down at a diagonal angle. She was pretty sure it was supporting the rock above, so aimed her efforts at clearing out the smaller fragments and rubble beneath it. Mirian swapped between lift object and force drill, with the former enhanced to clear out piles of objects and the latter enhanced for greater penetrative power. For several minutes, she continued her work, cracking open the limestone, then spreading the pile out behind her. It would still be a tight squeeze and treacherous for anyone with ankles, but it would do.

    As she got closer to the end of the collapse, she heard the shouting get louder.

    ¡°¡ªcoming through? We¡¯re trapped!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m drilling through. Back away!¡± Mirian called out.

    It took another minute of drilling, and then the last block cracked away. She shunted the debris back behind her, then made her way through. The lights had gone out on the other side, so Mirian summoned one behind her head. She emerged to find three bishops staring at her. She recognized Lancel and Valentar, but not the third.

    ¡°You¡¯re an acolyte!¡± Valentar said.

    ¡°Acolyte Micael,¡± Lancel said. ¡°We talked¡­ but how do you know arcane magic?¡±

    ¡°I am the Seventh Prophet,¡± she said, and let those words sink in.

    ¡°But¡ª¡±

    ¡°There will never be time to declare it. By the time the Order comes to a decision, it will be too late to matter. The cycle only lasts a little more than a month, and we are nearing the end of it. The deck is stacked against me, but I see a path forward. I need information.¡±

    From the blank stares, she could see they lacked some sort of understanding.

    ¡°Surely the bishops are told the nature of the Prophet¡¯s future knowledge? It was never gained through visions, but experience.¡±

    ¡°It cannot be,¡± Valentar proclaimed.

    Oh, it¡¯s going to go like that again, Mirian thought.

    ¡°You have demonstrated something remarkable, but not¡ª¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen the Sword of the Fourth Prophet, in the second holy vault,¡± Mirian said. ¡°And I know that you, Lancel and Valentar, are connected to the death of Acolyte Hamel. What was the stolen gold for, hmm? Was it funneled to the Pure Blade for their attack on the embassy? Used as bribes? Or is the scheme even more complicated?¡±

    ¡°What? I would never¡ª!¡± Bishop Lancel said, at the same time that Valentar said, ¡°You dare accuse me¡ªyou dare!¡±

    ¡°Great. We¡¯re going to play that game. Lancel, I watched Hamel tell you. Then I listened as Lancel told you, Valentar. The same murder weapon is used later to target a journalist and guard secretary. So explain yourselves. Valentar, what did you do with Hamel¡¯s report?¡±

    ¡°I¡ªI told the finance committee, of course! It was a recording error. How dare you¡­?¡±

    ¡°Except I came back here to learn more about how the Order works, asking around a bit. And the reports Hamel was working on were records based on the compiled delivery reports, meaning the gold was delivered. The name of the destination is supposed to be recorded by the driver, so the acolyte in charge of filling out the ledger would have simply copied the name as it was written,¡± Mirian said, voice growing in ferocity. ¡°Do you really not understand? You¡¯re not talking to someone you can lie to. I can visit the past. I can watch you commit your sins. Now tell me the truth!¡±

    ¡°I am telling the truth,¡± Valentar sputtered.

    ¡°I knew nothing of this, but Bishop Valentar is a good man,¡± Lancel said. ¡°I trust my friend¡¯s word.¡±

    Mirian stared at them. She looked to the third bishop.

    ¡°If¡­ if one is to be declared a Prophet¡­ they must go through the official channels,¡± he said, voice trembling.

    Mirian turned around and channeled, drawing back a pile of debris to block the passage. ¡°This is your fate if you don¡¯t help me. If I can¡¯t stop the leyline destabilization, you will die here, slowly suffocating until the end comes. Contemplate that. In silence. I have work to do,¡± she said, then pushed past the bishops.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Lancel asked.

    ¡°In silence!¡± Mirian snapped, whirling on him. The bishop¡¯s eyes grew wide and he took a step back. ¡°Redemption is in your hands, and the Ominian is watching, through me. Try to interfere and I¡¯ll make sure you can¡¯t.¡± She entered Valentar¡¯s quarters first. Once again, the resplendent decorations made her sick. Enough gold and velvet here to feed and cloth twenty families, she thought.

    ¡°You cannot¡ª!¡± Valentar said, moving toward her. Mirian waved her hand, using lift object to send him flying back into the wall. He slumped over, still breathing, but dazed.

    ¡°Worthless books,¡± she said, rooting through his shelves. She opened his desk drawer next, and found several letters next to a pile of gold coins. She used her spell again to lift the pile of gold over to Valentar and let it drop on his head. It tinkled and pinged as it spread across the floor. ¡°Well there¡¯s some of it,¡± she said.

    She skimmed through the letters. A letter from a priest Treyul, a name she vaguely recalled Hamel mentioning before his death. It held nothing incriminating without context, but the strange references in it made her think it was probably coded. She noted several more names. ¡°Captain Rufus. A member of the Palendurio Guard. Did you know the Pure Blade referred anyone complaining about their unauthorized cordons in the canals prior to the attack to him?¡± Other letters seemed innocuous. But then, she saw a signature that caught her eye. ¡°Audera Magwell. Agent of the Deeps. Nice of her to sign it. What¡¯s her role in all this?¡±

    ¡°This is¡­ this is unconscionable!¡± Valentar said, wheezing. ¡°You won¡¯t get away with this.¡±

    ¡°The world ends on the 4th,¡± Mirian said, tossing several more letters onto the ground. ¡°Valentar is associated with the secret police, a conspirator, an assassin, and helped commit and cover for fraud. Will you still defend him?¡±

    Lancel was silent. The third bishop said, ¡°If he is guilty, the magistrates will decide that. It is not for me to make a judgment.¡±

    ¡°I thought I was talking to a bishop, not a weasel,¡± Mirian said, and went to search the next rooms. The bishops busied themselves whispering, but there was little they could actually do.

    In the next two rooms, it was more of the same, though Lancel and the other bishop had less incriminating letters in their drawers. It seemed they weren¡¯t so directly involved in the conspiracy. And yet, they are complicit in covering for one who is, she thought.

    Nothing about the secrets of the third circle or secret runes. She should have suspected it wouldn¡¯t be so easy. And no chance they tell me, Mirian thought.

    ¡°Well, here¡¯s the problem,¡± Mirian said, looking over the bishops. ¡°I need to keep sneaking around looking for more information, since you three won¡¯t tell me directly. But that means I can¡¯t let you go, because I can only assume you¡¯d sic the Luminate Guard or the Deeps on me.¡±

    Lancel¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°What are you saying?¡±

    Mirian deconstructed the barrier of rubble, then started walking through. The third bishop scrambled after her, but she sent him flying back with a burst of force. He collided with Lancel who went stumbling back.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said, and started filling the tunnel behind her back up with rubble. She felt sick doing it. She¡¯d killed in self defense plenty of times, and killed the spies in Torrviol preemptively plenty more. But this¡­ it felt rotten. They were all culpable, but they didn¡¯t deserve that fate. But she couldn¡¯t bring herself to just kill them, either. It¡¯s necessary, she assured herself. It was their original fate without me. The Ominian will grant them mercy soon.

    She used force drill on the larger slab, causing more rock to tumble down and bury the passage further. Then she went searching for the secret rooms she¡¯d mapped last cycle.

 Chapter 116 - Secrets of the Sanctum

    The archbishops¡¯ and pontiff¡¯s quarters were in a special section of Charlem Palace. There was some debate on whether or not the passages of the Grand Sanctum still linked up with the lower levels of it. Mirian thought it probably did, since the Pontiff emerged from the Sanctum when he made his speech, but there¡¯d be too many active guards up there. Down here, everyone was still evacuating.

    More and more, she was beginning to understand how lucky she was in encountering the Cult of Zomalator. Those were people who had encountered hell in their lives, but they had fought through it and reckoned with themselves. From that came faith, but more, had come people who were unflinching when seeing truth. Here in the very heart of where truth should be sacrosanct, she had just seen three Order officials who would rather die than admit what was before their very eyes. Worse, from her other encounters in Palendurio, that didn¡¯t even seem to be uncommon.

    Despite that, Mirian still felt like she was dirty, and it had nothing to do with the layer of dust coating her robes.

    She made her way down to the lower passages. She had scribed a complex cavern-detection spell earlier in the cycle, and it was one of the eight pages she¡¯d strapped beneath her clothing for use. It had several enhancements, including a mental component that could help her visualize the structures she was seeing. That, plus the range enhancement made it mana intensive, but there could be no replacement.

    The widespread collapse hadn¡¯t made things any easier. At least one section of the Sanctum near the dining hall had cracked apart and sunk down, falling into the canals below. She didn¡¯t want to know how many people died from that alone. Another section in the east had shared a similar fate.

    It took at least an hour to both map and navigate the passages down to the lower level. Several times, she had to dig through rubble, and rescued three more acolytes by chance.

    ¡°How did you do that?¡± one asked.

    ¡°I trained as an arcanist before I joined the Luminates,¡± she lied. And since that was forbidden, she added, ¡°I¡¯d appreciate if you kept that secret.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± the man said before limping off.

    Mirian kept digging.

    After another hour, she rested, leaning up against the tunnel wall. She pulled out one of her canteens and the dried food she¡¯d packed. Her last two spells she had with her were disintegrating force beam, which was her own creation, and gather water from air, which she used to get at least a bit of water back in her canteen.

    She dismissed her light spell and closed her eyes, exhausted from channeling and crawling through debris for hours on end. She still hadn¡¯t dropped the filter air spell because the dust in the air was terrible, so there was only so much relaxing she could do. After some time, she stood, recast her light, dusted herself off, then got back to work.

    Mirian cast her divination spell again. One of the unmapped rooms was finally nearby. As best she could tell, the stair to the room had been hidden underneath a statue in one of the altar rooms, but the passage to that room had collapsed entirely. Instead, the easiest path forward was to drill a diagonal tunnel through about ten feet of solid rock, which would open up a hole in the ceiling.

    She got to work, using disintegrating force beam to crack a hole down the center, then following it up with a persistent force drill. The work was monotonous, but at last she broke through. Mirian slid down the passage, then activated her levitation wand midair, slowly descending to the ground. She brightened her light spell.

    The room she was in was nothing like the other rooms in the Grand Sanctum. There was none of the gaudy decorations, no gold leaf, and no crystal lamps. The furniture was old wood, darkened by age and a thick layer of dust. They seem to have forgotten about this room altogether, she mused.

    Over by a small altar, there was a bookshelf, and Mirian¡¯s heart pounded faster. The books themselves were starting to decompose, so she ever so gently lifted the first out, setting it gently on the table.

    The first book was written in a language she¡¯d never seen before, probably one of the many languages used in Baracuel before the Unification War that had since fallen out of favor. The next one used an archaic form of Friian, and that, she could understand, even if it took time and she sometimes had to say the words out loud to make sense of them. She skimmed through. The second volume seemed to have been written contemporaneously with the Fifth Prophet. No doubt, her history teachers would have broken into spontaneous dance, but it held little interest for her.

    She looked for details about the Fifth Prophet¡¯s mask, an artifact that supposedly allowed the wearer to transform their identity. There were plenty of descriptions of it, but little on how it actually worked. She moved on to the other books.

    Another book covered the duties of the priesthood. It contained no new runes for her, but what it did contain was several rune sequences. One protected against curses, which must have been much more common before the necromancy ban in Baracuel. Several others were specific healing spells, focusing on either repairing internal bleeding, broken bones, or healing each organ. So¡­ the Luminates are using the celestial equivalent of raw magic to heal most injuries. They directly interface with the soul, but the energy usage must be horribly inefficient. No wonder an entire myrvite¡¯s soul can only heal a few wounds. These dedicated healing spells must be far more efficient. So what happened to the Order that caused them to lose this knowledge?

    She had a feeling the answer was in those history books she kept ignoring. Maybe it came from the ban on necromancy. With current practices, they can pretend their work is distinct from magic, but if they¡¯d used these formulations, it would have led to too many questions. Which means most soul magic has probably been lost to time. No wonder there¡¯s so little about it.

    Several more books contained far more information about priestly rituals, but included a few more examples of simple celestial spells. She transcribed them carefully, then spent time committing them to memory.

    It was in a book about the Fourth Prophet that she came across a note, stuffed between two pages. It used the archaic spellings, and the handwriting was atrocious, but she was able to make sense of it by transcribing it. It read:

    <blockquote>

    Curse Pontiff Maxaminus. He claims the ninth binding is lost, but I have seen his true face as a liar, and you should reject his decrees as such. He seeks to preserve the Church¡¯s power, and demands I heal the split. As if that is why the Ominian called to me.

    But he has not seen Their face.

    I have.

    The dreams tell me nothing of the Church. They demand I find the Mausoleum, but I have searched from Jiandzhi to Rambalda and found nothing. The princes claim it is in Mayat Shadr, but I have walked those desolate streets, and it is a ruin. The Mausoleum must have been destroyed, as there is not even a trace. If only it had not been. The records claim the Second Prophet wrote of all the bindings but the ninth upon its walls. Maxaminus must be lying, because the Fourth recovered them. I do not wish to relive so many frustrating years again. The ninth binding must be the key.

    You cannot understand the feelings in the dreams. They tear through me, and no one else understands, because the words do not exist. They cannot understand.

    I have traveled these lands alone longer than you can know. I beg for your aid so that this can finally end. Will you not lend it?

    </blockquote>

    Mirian found herself trembling as she read the text. Quickly, she reread it, then read it again as if the note might suddenly evaporate if she didn¡¯t hurry. ¡°He knew what it was like,¡± she whispered to the empty room. She clutched the note to her chest and breathed in deeply. ¡°We travel alone, together,¡± she told the note.

    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    She read it one last time, then gently placed it back in the old tome.

    ***

    She spent the night sleeping down in the room, finally dismissing the filter air spell so that she could take a break from spellcasting. Another day down in the secret room revealed two new runes and instructions on their formation and function, which by itself saved her days of experimentation. She then investigated the secret door, carefully examining the mechanical device from her side. Because the ceiling had collapsed on the other side, there was no opening it, but now that she¡¯d identified the mechanism, she was fairly sure she could open it in future cycles before the quake, using magnetic spells if she couldn¡¯t find the hidden switch.

    Mirian levitated back up the way she¡¯d came. A small tremor had caused a minor collapse in one of the passages, but she was able to clear it quickly. Then she headed for the holy vaults.

    She found two acolytes going at one of the collapsed passages with pick axes, which was a sorry sight. She told them she was there to relieve them, then as soon as they¡¯d left, drilled through the rock in a few minutes.

    Everad was there, as he had been, standing watch.

    ¡°I am Everad, and I¡­ I stand guard,¡± he said.

    ¡°Mirian Castrella, Seventh Prophet. Good to see you again. I brought water and snacks,¡± she said, and offered him a canteen.

    He blinked at her. She could see how red his eyes were, and how cracked and dry his lips had become. He had been standing guard without relief for at least two days.

    ¡°Go on. Drink a bit, and I¡¯ll tell you a few things to confirm I¡¯m a Prophet.¡±

    Hand trembling, Everad took the water.

    Some of her annoyance at repeating herself had faded when she¡¯d read the note, and it helped that she already knew that Everad had the heart of a good man.

    Everad allowed himself to rest, and Mirian started by cracking open the door she¡¯d ignored last time. Inside were reliefs and paintings of the Fifth Prophet. Unlike the Fourth Prophet, there was no sarcophagus, and no body. There was a pedestal, though, and on it, behind a glass case, was an old mask.

    The Mask of the Fifth Prophet, she thought. How surreal. I just read your note.

    It looked like the same mask the Palendurio Guard wore, except the smooth face of the mask was marred by a thin cut down one eye and across the mouth. The face of the mask was made of orichalcum, not steel, but the helmet it was attached to seemed mundane. The glass case protecting it was surrounded by runes as the sarcophagus had been, but she could walk around it and examine it.

    Strange. No glyphs, no runes. The mask was just an excuse then. Perhaps he wore it while using the soul transformations Arenthia taught me, and people attributed to the mask what was really his power. The look of it was equally mundane. There was some indescribable quality that the sword had that the mask didn¡¯t.

    She examined the runes, then moved on.

    The other holy vaults were buried in rubble, but this time, Mirian had left herself enough time to start rectifying that. As Everad watched, she broke apart the stone and shunted it off to the side.

    ¡°How has it come to this?¡± Everad said at last.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m trying to figure out,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Part of it is¡­ a short-sightedness. I suppose I was guilty of it once. Everyone¡¯s just concerned about getting by. Making their wage. Paying their rent. If they¡¯re ambitious, it becomes a game of power, but they feel their power is only secure when other people don¡¯t have it.¡± She made a face. ¡°Or something like that. I abhor reading political theory. It all seems like a bunch of excuses for why everything has to inevitably be terrible for most people. It¡¯s right up there with history. ¡®Ah, today we¡¯re going to read about some man who slaughtered thousands and why that was fine, actually. Make sure to remember the date he was born.¡¯ Spell engines were always far more interesting. And a better means of doing good in the world.¡±

    Mirian tossed another boulder aside, then worked on breaking apart another one. She paused to evaluate the ceiling stability with her divination, then continued. ¡°But something far worse has happened. It didn¡¯t start recently, either. That Arcane Praetorian told me the eruptions have been going on for decades, but they never found the cause. Which is insane. That¡¯s like if there were volcanoes going off, but no one bothered to learn why. If there¡¯s an effect, there must be a cause. Somehow, the Divine Monument is connected. But even stopping that won¡¯t be enough. The Divine Monument was a relatively recent discovery.¡±

    ¡°Sacred One, do you wish for my commentary?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Mirian said, continuing to drill.

    ¡°What if it is like a volcano? Perhaps it is a natural thing that happens. We know about volcanoes, but we cannot stop them from erupting.¡±

    She paused her work. ¡°Eugh. Now there¡¯s a nasty thought. I certainly hope not. And I don¡¯t think the Ominian would have bothered if it couldn¡¯t be stopped. Well, you certainly know how to cheer someone up.¡±

    ¡°Apologies. I have had, perhaps, too much time alone with my thoughts.¡±

    ¡°I know the feeling. There,¡± she said. ¡°Time for another door.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s disintegrating force beam burrowed through the third door, then she broke the rest apart and stepped through.

    Another relic sat in a glass case. This one appeared to be a bundle of paper. This is it, she thought. The Holy Pages. If Arenthia was right¡­

    She approached them expecting to see old writing, perhaps the words of the Fourth Prophet himself.

    Instead, they were blank. Pristine.

    Now that¡­ that is strange. The runes around the case were untouched, and the paper itself was made out of more than just wood pulp. There was a golden hue to it, and when she looked carefully, she could see tiny threads of something metallic running through each page.

    One by one, Mirian shattered the doors, pausing only for a lunch break.

    The relics of the fourth and fifth doors were, in her opinion, forgeries. The fourth vault was supposed to contain the Staff of the Third Prophet, but the glyph sequences running along it were, in a word, incorrect. A priest might not know the difference, but she certainly did. If someone tried to channel through them, the thing would explode, or worse. It had clearly been made by an amateur who knew how to pair glyphs, but didn¡¯t actually know very many spells. The runes around the case were also different than the ones around the other relics. Almost like they were destroyed, then replaced, but by someone who had lost the knowledge to properly replace them.

    The fifth holy vault was supposed to contain the Reliquary of the Nameless God, which made her expect another piece of material like the focuses that Xipuatl or Lecne and his heretics wielded, but the material looked wrong. And, like the fourth vault, the protective runes had been replaced. Everad said they had an unbroken record of security going back to the Unification War, so it was possible the theft had happened a long, long time ago.

    In the sixth vault was the bejeweled Skull of the Second Prophet. ¡°Hm. Couldn¡¯t get the whole mummy for you, could they?¡± Mirian whispered to it. She had no idea if it was genuine. The runes around the case were different than both the genuine vaults and the ones that were probable forgeries, but that might have been because of the relic¡¯s older age.

    The same was true for the seventh vault. Stepping into it, even the architecture was different. Everything about the room felt absolutely ancient. ¡°The first finger of the First Prophet,¡± Mirian whispered. Again, the runes were unfamiliar. Is this really over 3000 years old? she wondered. I wonder what it was like so long ago.

    Mirian studied the runes for several more hours, using the four bindings she did know to siphon them into her specially designed repository where she could measure them. She took notes on the ¡®resonance intensity¡¯ as she was beginning to think of it and made notes on which ones she thought she could reproduce. Binding a rune for study also had the added benefit of destroying it, so piece by piece, she could strip the relics of the defenses around them.

    That night, she slept on the floor of the second vault while Everad continued his vigil.

    Unsurprisingly, no one came.

    One by one, she deconstructed the runes around the Fourth Prophet¡¯s sarcophagus. As the cycle neared its end, Mirian carefully surveyed the room, meditating with her soul sense first, then carefully using her last soul energy to check for anything she¡¯d missed. Satisfied at last, she grasped the Sword of the Fourth Prophet.

    It was a beautiful blade, balanced perfectly, and surprisingly light. She gave it a few test swings, then tried a thrust. When she slashed it along the tomb wall, it left a deep score in the stone.

    Mirian raised an eyebrow. Usually, stone blunted a sword. Experimentally, she sent the tip into the wall.

    It was the wall that cracked.

    She admired the web of fractures in the stone. Oh, I want so badly to take this with me.

    She cast the four celestial bindings she knew on it. If it had been a normal object, the bindings would have found no purchase. Here, they attached to the sword¡ªfor a little bit. After a moment, they slid off. The Fifth Prophet mentioned nine bindings. I must need to find them all first.

    Mirian held the sword aloft, watching the blade glisten. She could feel the rumbling outside that meant the end was near.

    ¡°And I do it all again,¡± she murmured.

 Chapter 117 - The Cycles Continue

    This time, Mirian changed two more variables. She recruited Valen as a spy again, torched the registrar¡¯s building as usual, and stripped the second spy of his soul-mark so that he¡¯d trigger the destruction of the spy¡¯s headquarters.

    But before all that, she had another person to recruit the aid of.

    ¡°Respected Jei,¡± she said, walking into her office. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again.¡±

    ¡°Mirian. Do you not have class? Do not tell me you are skipping.¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t answer. Instead, she went through all forty of the exercises Jei had taught her so long ago, chanting the words in Gulwenen as she did. Then she explained. After that, she said, ¡°You¡¯ve always understood the full implications of the time loop. Few people do. Now I need your help.¡±

    Jei cocked her head. ¡°How long did I need to come to terms with it?¡±

    ¡°Usually a full day. But we don¡¯t have that kind of time.¡± She told her about Sulvorath. ¡°We need to make sure no progress can be made on the Divine Monument. Whatever it does, we don¡¯t know yet, but he cannot be allowed to learn. All sabotage should be done subtly. Lost papers. Improperly mixed alchemical solutions. Partial melting of key glyphs that cause the spell engines to malfunction. Ironically, the Akanan spies in town help that along. I¡¯m also conducting tests on the timeline, seeing which variables he has the hardest time dealing with. I¡¯m also seeing how many people in Torrviol I can mobilize against him without him knowing.¡±

    Jei snorted. ¡°Here I thought you would be coming for help with the exam.¡±

    Mirian waved her comment away. ¡°Your math problem is impossible to solve without a second set of coordinates, and we don¡¯t know what the coordinates are. Which might mean needing to find another Divine Monument. Maybe. But it¡¯s not clear the Akanans actually have one. They have something else. But needing a second coordinate set would mean¡­.¡± Then she blinked. ¡°Oh shit. What if that¡¯s why the leyline collapse propagates down to Palendurio? But if there¡¯s one there, why have I heard nothing about it?¡± She stood and started pacing. ¡°How old are the Monuments?¡±

    ¡°Undatable,¡± Jei said.

    ¡°Right, probably predates even the Cataclysm since they were put there by the Elder Gods. Are there historical references to them?¡±

    Jei raised an eyebrow. ¡°I am not a historian.¡±

    ¡°Right. Crap. I¡¯m going to have to open a history book at some point, aren¡¯t I? Well, a problem for another time. That said, there is some math I¡¯d like you to look over.¡±

    Mirian laid out the equations and formulas she¡¯d come up with to measure rune resonance, explaining how it worked to her as best she could, comparing it to waveform mathematics. For two hours, they discussed it, and Mirian kept thinking about just how much she¡¯d missed working with Jei.

    Saying goodbye to her was the worst. Her eyes prickled with tears as she said it.

    Jei looked at her, concern wrinkling her brow. ¡°Remember to take care of yourself.¡±

    Mirian couldn¡¯t help herself. She gave Jei a big hug. At first, Jei stiffened like a board, then, she awkwardly patted Mirian on the back.

    ¡°See you next cycle,¡± she said, trying to swallow the lump in throat. I can give myself that, without falling apart, she thought. Just a few hours. I can do that.

    It was hard to focus after that. She had to take some time to breathe, and just watch the horizon. Then, it was back to the work.

    Soon enough, she was on the train to Palendurio again.

    ***

    True to her new plan, Mirian ignored the political situation in Palendurio and focused on infiltrating the Sanctum.

    She had thought about assuming the identity of one of the acolytes so she could attend classes, but the more time she spent in disguise in the Grand Sanctum, the more she understood that the soul magic curriculum they taught was sparse at best.

    Instead, she stuck to the shadows, continuing her own research into runes, taking breaks to make sure she was exercising her glyphic spellwork as well. Eventually, she broke down and started looking into history books in the Great Library, searching for any mention of descriptions of strange objects that might have a connection to the fourth spatial dimension, the arcane dimension that the Elder Gods had such mastery over.

    Such mentions were difficult to find, and the archivists were little help.

    She ended up crafting three huge detectors, warded as best she could, in hidden spots outside the city. The detectors were powered by small spell engines, and would output their data on a scroll using mundane ink so that when the antimagic pulse wrecked them, she¡¯d still be able to read the results. Hopefully, data on energy intensity would help point her to something.

    For all their failings, the priests and bishops of the Luminate Order took the circles of secrecy seriously. The secrets were passed down verbally in special ceremonies. Infuriatingly, there were no ceremonies scheduled until after the apocalypse. The last ceremony had been the 22nd of Cerelorn, a week before the cycles had started. While she knew the first and second circle secrets from Arenthia and Lecne, the third was the purview of the bishops and archbishops, and she had trouble even getting close to them.

    On the 20th of Solem, her reports came in.

    Lecne¡¯s was similar to his first report. Nothing she¡¯d done this cycle was lethal to Sulvorath, so the Deeps had continued operations in Cairnmouth, and every indication was that they would continue until the end of the cycle.

    Valen¡¯s report was also similar (the first part causing Mirian to blush, again). As she had guessed, removing the soul mark from the second spy caused him to burn down the headquarters, throwing Akanan operations in the city into turmoil. It was nice to get confirmation of that. Still, with Sulvorath¡¯s guidance, it seemed the operations were able to crack down on any effort to properly investigate the disturbances. People continued to go missing, though there didn¡¯t seem to be a pattern. Is he just lashing out, or is he perhaps systematically analyzing the population to look for advantages?

    Unfortunately, Professor Jei sent no letter. She could deduce from Valen¡¯s letter that she hadn¡¯t gone missing on her usual day, but had gone missing several days after. The Akanans seemed set on making sure she died. Initially, they wanted to stop Baracueli research on the Monument until it was firmly in their control. But Sulvorath must know that will never happen. Either he hasn¡¯t been able to stop Marshal Cearsia destroying it, or he doesn¡¯t want to. Neither option makes sense. What in the five hells is he trying to do?

    That also gave her an idea. If he¡¯s dedicated to killing Jei, maybe he¡¯ll spend disproportionate effort going after her if she vanishes. Whatever he wanted, she¡¯d continue undermining it.

    Mirian waited again until the leyline eruption shook apart Palendurio.

    The arcane energy surges ended up igniting several glyphs, despite the wards, causing the explosions to wipe out any data she might have collected. Live and learn, she thought, then went to infiltrate the Grand Sanctum again. This time, she aimed to investigate different secret rooms. This time, she hid her entire spellbook in her robes. The antimagic pulse wrecked the remains of their already insufficient security measures, so smuggling it in the bulky garment would be no problem.

    Underneath the shrine to Yiaverunan, there was a spiral staircase that led down to an old abandoned vault. Time had not been kind to the materials there. Some imperfection in the stone allowed water to drip into the room, which had ruined the books there and let the wooden furniture sprout strange fungi. The stagnant pool of water at the bottom smelled absolutely wretched, and not even filter air helped.

    The next secret room was by the west passages, where acolytes regularly visited a statue of Altrukyst to recite the prayers of the traveler. She rescued a priest and an acolyte, then used her divination spells to locate a rather ingenious mechanism of ancient runes that activated when a flame was lit in Altrukyst¡¯s lantern. In retrospect, that made a lot of sense. That opened up a door that led behind the alcove. This room had seen recent use. It held several secret incantations, as well as a myth about Altrukyst she¡¯d never heard before. Somehow, it involved convincing Xylatarvia to sail her ship through the hole in his chest, which led to her coming out a different hole that was the moon. Which moon wasn¡¯t specified, but given the details about its size, it seemed to be the Luamin moon. It was one of those nonsensical tales that seemed like it should have been in a storybook for children, yet here it was hidden in a secret passage, protected by Altrukyst¡¯s cult.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    Another book inside that room was a ¡®secret history,¡¯ involving one of the sects inside the Luminate Order. When she skimmed it, it just seemed like the sect was boasting about itself for influencing a bunch of major decisions the Order had made. It was overly self-congratulatory, and the things it had manipulated seemed absolutely asinine to Mirian. Did anyone really care about whether or not there was a fifth eye carved on the heads of the monsters that traveled with Eintocarst? Did anyone really care about the specific process for the approval of new acolytes in the western regions? And how much did it matter that on feast days, the bread was passed counter-clockwise?

    Mirian returned to the holy vaults again, and shared her food with Everad. This time, she¡¯d brought along her dating spells.

    The Mask of the Fifth Prophet seemed to be the genuine item, though even after she¡¯d broken the runic wards to analyze it, she couldn¡¯t find anything magical about it. The Sword of the Fourth Prophet and the Holy Pages of the second and third vaults couldn¡¯t be analyzed, which meant they were also probably the real thing.

    She tested the Holy Pages with the first four bindings, expecting it to respond with an initial connection like the Sword had¡ªbut the bindings failed to find any purchase. Something about the Holy Pages were different than the sword, though it still clearly had the same kind of divination-resistant form that genuine artifacts of the Elder Gods did.

    As she moved through the other vaults though, her suspicions that the real relics had been stolen appeared to be correct. The Staff of the Third Prophet dated to 500 years old, which was far too recent, as did the supposed finger bones of the First Prophet. The Flesh of the Nameless God dated as some 2 billion years old, which meant it was made out of granite, not the same thing that the celestial reliquaries were.

    The Bejeweled Skull of the Second Prophet really was 4000 years old, but like the Mask, it seemed to have no special runes or magical energy. There were faint places where runes might have once been, but if there had been magic there, it had long since faded.

    She tested each of the other relics¡ªgenuine and fake¡ªwith the first four bindings, seeing if they had the same kind of resonant attraction that the Sword had. None of them did.

    It was good information to have, and it would let her focus her efforts on what mattered. I wonder who ended up stealing the genuine relics? she wondered. But that would have to be a question for another time.

    A wave of antimagic passed through the caverns, and then the ground began to rumble again. She said her goodbyes to Everad.

    The world ended.

    ***

    Mirian recruited Nicolas to spy on Sulvorath. It was the obvious choice, but since she hadn¡¯t interacted with him in several years at this point, hopefully it would catch him by surprise.

    That was another hard goodbye to say.

    The second variable was sending various letters to various officials, both in Torrviol and out, warning of Adria Gavell¡¯s death and the betrayal of the Deeps cell.

    She burned the registrar¡¯s office and deployed her seeds of chaos artifacts in Cairnmouth again.

    Mirian paid extra to the Syndicate to let her rent one of their secure warehouses so she could do more testing on live myrvite souls. Her theory was that she might be able to merge multiple bound souls into a higher tier of resonance. Her attempts to do that caused two of her soul repositories to violently explode, damaging the facilities and causing one of the myrvites to escape, which alienated the Syndicate that cycle.

    She backed away from that hypothesis and went back to her research on the secrets of the Order.

    No letters came from Jei or Nicolas. Her new variables seemed to have done little to affect Sulvorath¡¯s overall projection of power, though from Valen¡¯s letter, they had clearly annoyed him once again.

    She opened up two more secret rooms. One was unused, and had been partially flooded. The other had  completely collapsed with the rest of the eastern sections, but she discovered the mechanism she¡¯d need to open the secret passage that led to it.

    The world ended.

    ***

    Mirian instructed Jei to recruit Professor Torres, giving her a list of predictions to help. She instructed Nicolas to have Nurea warn the Cairnmouth Syndicate about Sulvorath. She left several seeds of chaos in Torrviol itself, set to go off simultaneously in empty rooms and along the spellward.

    This time, she got a letter from Torres, and it spoke to the timeline in Torrviol being drastically altered by a myrvite incursion and total disruption of classes. Sulvorath was indeed trying to do something with the Divine Monument, but what it was, Torres hadn¡¯t been able to tell. As best she could tell, they were still stuck on the same problems that had plagued them when Mirian was there.

    Mirian managed to sneak into the passage she¡¯d found in the Sanctum the previous cycle. This time, she seemed to have stumbled on a sect of Eintocarst. Thankfully, the room wasn¡¯t occupied, though it was obviously still in use. The books were mostly the same kind of garbage she kept encountering, but one was a detailed treatise on the Labyrinth, and what that implied about the nature of Eintocarst¡¯s Godhood. It included several studies into runes found in the Labyrinth, as well as the myrvites associated with their construction. She took the book with her, and spent as much time as she could reading up on and practicing the new runes.

    This time, she used one of her orichalcum disks to shield the most critical parts of her energy detector artifacts. She succeeded in measuring the energy from the leyline eruption, but the eruption had been so big that even at the low-sensitivity measurements, all three devices displayed results at the maximum possible point on the scale. She¡¯d have to decrease the sensitivity or find a way to extend the scale.

    The orichalcum had shielded several critical components, but there hadn¡¯t been enough of it to shield the rest.

    At the end of the cycle, she started scouting out the rooms of the archbishops and the pontiff. As she¡¯d suspected, the rooms were well guarded. What few Praetorians were still in Palendurio were mostly guarding the grounds at Charlem Palace. She began to map their patrol routes, schedules, and routines. She found several easily exploitable gaps in the security measures around the Kingmont Hill. In three different areas, there were non-overlapping wards she could disable without causing any alarms that would allow her to sneak in without a permit.

    She sent a letter to the pontiff requesting a meeting. The letter was, of course, ignored.

    The world ended.

    ***

    Mirian killed the first spy by pulling him off the roof, far enough away that no one could reasonably attribute it to her. For the second spy, she opened up the latches on the wyvern cages so that they ate him when he went to kill them. She killed the spy posing as the mayor¡¯s secretary when she went to rob one of his counterfeit Florinian ingots. She left a letter for Magistrate Ada on where she could find evidence of the spies¡¯ activities. Then, on her way out of town, she set the registrar on fire as usual. As she flew out, she levitated a pig through the spy headquarters window, triggering the fire traps, then sniped Captain Mandez from the air with a disintegration ray as he moved to respond, as well as the spy who worked at the train station.

    She laid low in Palendurio, focusing again on the history of the Luminates and looking for more clues about the Labyrinth and the works of the Elder Gods. She also looked into the latest research by wizards looking into the leylines, which was an incredibly sparsely known field, but it allowed her a few key refinements of her leyline measurement device. This time, in addition to the orichalcum shielding, she tried to use what she¡¯d learned of the runes in the holy vaults to create an additional layer of protection.

    When she got the letters from Torrviol, she found the town had been deeply disturbed by the rash of deaths, then further disturbed by the revelations. Sulvorath had retaliated by killing dozens of people, including Nicolas, Magistrate Ada and Jei as he apparently attempted to wrest control of the town. But he¡¯d been too obvious about killing Jei. Valen bragged about hearing that Archmage Luspire had ripped apart the house he was hiding in and incinerated him. Mirian couldn¡¯t help but feel a surge of gratification at learning that her nemesis had been torched. She noted what building he had stayed in. Possibly, it was a spy safehouse she hadn¡¯t identified.

    Despite all her precautions, her measurement devices were overloaded again.

    Two more secret rooms ended up being dead ends. One was abandoned, but contained no knowledge of interest. Another was still in use, but was full of useless ceremonial trinkets.

    Mirian pretended to be an acolyte and healer up by Charlem Palace so she could learn a bit more about the people there, getting as close to the section of the palace occupied by the pontiff and archbishops as she could.

    The world ended.

    ***

    Mirian checked the house that Luspire had apparently burned last cycle over. She¡¯d had to scribe several divination spells much earlier than she usually did, but she was getting quite good at speed-scribing, the exact thing every arcanist wasn¡¯t supposed to do. The house appeared to be empty, but it had basic anti-theft wards, and upon further investigation, a rune-mark detector. The kind Specter used.

    The runes Specter was using were quite simple, and now that Mirian knew the rune sequences, changing them was simple. She needed to modify a single reference rune, and then add her own triggering rune. This changed it from ¡®if the rune-mark is not detected, the room catches on fire¡¯ to ¡®if the rune-mark is detected, the room catches on fire.¡¯ Then she created a miniature spell engine that would spread those flames if it detected enough heat energy. She was sure that Sulvorath had a rune-mark, probably that Specter had placed on him, so if he or any of the spies attempted to use the room, it would cause quite the fire.

    She could have made the trap more intricate and deadly, but as always, she didn¡¯t have the time or the resources. Two days just wasn¡¯t enough.

    She headed south again.

    Mirian checked out two books about geoarcanology from the Great Library, trying to figure out how to get her detector to work. She ended up finding a relatively simple solution: seismometers. Not even magical ones, either, though a small spell engine was the only way she could figure out how to turn the cylinder of paper the waves would be recorded on. Measuring the arcane surge itself seemed to be impossible, but she could easily measure the shockwave that surge caused.

    The result, though, was that she was left with three long seismograms of jumbled lines. The spell engines had broken too quickly, so the paper cylinder had stopped rotating, so all the lines were right on top of each other. She could triangulate one of the major earth movements at the start of the eruption, but not how the eruption had progressed underground as it neared the city.

    The breakthrough, though, came when she investigated the next secret room on her list, the one north of the holy vaults that took the most drilling to get to. As she broke through, four priests of Shiamagoth greeted her, crowding by the entrance.

    ¡°Oh thank the Gods! We¡¯re saved!¡± one of them cried out.

    Behind them was a large magical forge, and beyond that, an entire shelf full of orichalcum ingots.

    Found it, she thought.

 Chapter 118 - Of Bronze and Bindings

    The priests¡¯ moment of elation quickly turned to confusion. ¡°Wait, it¡¯s just you? How did you get through the rock?¡± one of them asked.

    Internally, Mirian groaned. I get to have this conversation again. ¡°I¡¯m the Seventh Prophet,¡± she said simply, then added, ¡°Undeclared. There¡¯s not enough time for a declaration through the pontiff, and there¡¯s several¡­ complications that make it inadvisable.¡± At least, for now.

    Three of the priests stared at her, while the fourth burst out into hysterical laughter.

    ¡°Would one of you like to teach me how to make orichalcum?¡± she asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ you really weren¡¯t sent by the Order?¡±

    ¡°The entire city is overwhelmed. The initial quake likely killed at least ten thousand, and the antimagic pulse that swept through destroyed most spell engines and a whole lot of spellbooks. The only timeline that is acceptable at this point is a timeline where the leyline eruption does not hit Palendurio. That means I need orichalcum to protect the measurement devices that will help me figure out more about the leyline breakdown. I also think, as a magically resistant material, it will be key in preventing the eruptions in the first place.¡±

    One of the priests gawked. ¡°Wait, a leyline erupted next to the city?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°But you didn¡¯t¡­ if you¡¯re a Prophet, you would have seen it coming. You would have known. But¡­¡±

    Mirian bit her tongue so she wouldn¡¯t sigh, then explained a bit about the events, summarizing heavily, and the nature of the time loop. ¡°¡­so in each timeline, you have died, and will continue to die. But in some future, final timeline, you will live. If I can stop the apocalypse. Now, you would think ¡®stopping the apocalypse¡¯ would get people lining up to help me, but you¡¯d be wrong. The usual reaction is disbelief, denial, and often despair. Often, I have to spend several loops figuring out how to convince someone.¡±

    By now, the group was looking at her with horror.

    One of the priests said, ¡°But you¡¯ve seen the statue of the Ominian in Their lost Mausoleum?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t that¡­ and you¡¯ve described it?¡±

    ¡°I have.¡±

    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t that alone be enough to have you proclaimed?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea what the criteria are. No one has told me yet.¡±

    ¡°God¡¯s blood,¡± one of them whispered, which was not a curse a priest said lightly. ¡°Sacred One, we are sorry for our colleagues¡¯ ignorance of the cosmic order,¡± he said, kneeling. ¡°If you say it is what you need, then it would be my honor to teach you our craft.¡±

    Finally! Mirian thought. For once, people that listen to reason.

    Mirian shared out her water and food with them, since they had been trapped there for an entire day. The ventilation shaft, thankfully, remained unbroken, or the priests no doubt would have run out of air long before she reached them.

    She learned that only a few select priests within the cults of Shiamagoth or Eintocarst were allowed to learn how orichalcum or mythril was made, and they were sworn to secrecy. But the Prophet was supposed to supersede the laws of all but the Elder Gods.

    ¡°The bronze alloy is key,¡± one of the priests explained. ¡°Very few metals can receive the celestial blessing. The blessing is best applied as the metal cools.¡±

    Mirian watched as one of the priests went through the process. ¡°First, you must visualize the Ominian¡¯s blessing as light that surrounds you. Then, it helps to visualize that light as strands of a web. Hold in your hand the blessed skull of a chimera, and imagine it cutting open the web, until the strands of light flow past the skull and into the bronze.¡±

    As Mirian listened, her incredulity grew. ¡°Mana. You¡¯re using your auric mana. This is¡ªthe visualization process is just like I was taught in the Academy. A chimera¡¯s skull is an arcane catalyst. I know how to do this part.¡±

    The priests exchanged worried glances. ¡°But channeling arcane energy is forbidden.¡±

    Mirian waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t know what happened with that. I¡¯m sure there¡¯s some weird historical reason.¡±

    ¡°You mean Pontiff Cornelius Argen¡¯s Prime Declaration during the Reign of the Third Prophet?¡±

    She sighed. ¡°I¡¯m sure that was it. Okay, so first you channel definitely-not-mana into the bronze. What next?¡±

    The rest of the process was more complex. The special forge was designed to use mechanical properties to regulate heat, rather than a modern forge that used glyphs for precise regulation. However, for how outdated it was, it did an impressive job keeping the bronze cooling slowly. As mana was fed into the structure by one priest, a second priest started binding it to the metal with high-resonance soul energy from a sacrificed myrvite.

    ¡°Can I transfer that soul energy into my own soul repository?¡± Mirian asked. When they acquiesced, she was pleased to see that the resonance intensity needed for orichalcum only needed to be from something like a mature drake or greater wyvern. Any higher, and she¡¯d have to start hunting bog lions.

    The priests continued with the process, showing her which runes were needed. All of them were surprised at how quickly she picked up rune construction.

    ¡°This is known as the eighth binding,¡± she was told. ¡°It¡¯s layered in this pattern with the second and fourth bindings.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t happen to know the fifth through seventh bindings, do you?¡± she asked, hopeful.

    ¡°Unfortunately not. The bishops should be able to teach you those.¡±

    Mirian grimaced. The three bishops had refused to teach her. The other bishops were in Alkazaria, which was where a bunch of Arcane Praetorians and the southern traveler¡¯s armies were. She didn¡¯t like that. The archbishops would know, but she still hadn¡¯t figured out a good, low-risk way to talk to them yet.

    Happily enough, though, after two days of instruction, Mirian was producing her own orichalcum. The priests were deeply uncomfortable with the idea that what they¡¯d been doing all along was channeling mana like an arcanist, but Mirian¡¯s demonstration of how easy it was for her made it hard to dismiss her.

    ¡°There¡¯s sure to be a doctrinal crisis after this,¡± one of the priests bemoaned.

    ¡°Probably a couple,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ well, I¡¯ll try to learn a bit more about the history of it so I can navigate it smoothly. I think that¡¯s a long ways away, though.¡±

    Another priest said, ¡°It¡¯s a horrible way to die. Trapped in a small room, with only air, each other, and your darkest thoughts, and no hope.¡±

    Mirian nodded. ¡°I know. I wish¡­ I wish there was more I could do. Always, I wish that.¡± She still didn¡¯t know what to say to people about it. For all the cycles she was using to prepare, their fate was determined. They couldn¡¯t change it. They couldn¡¯t escape it. So many people were doomed to suffer and die. Worse, the more people she met, the more she knew their faces and names, and the harder it was to simply let it happen. Abandoning Jei to assassination. Abandoning Arenthia to execution. Abandoning Beatrice to death in the Labyrinth. Everad would always die alone in the dark, wondering if anyone would come. These priests would die the same way. Thousands would die trapped beneath their own collapsed homes, while Kathera was doomed to be cut to pieces in broad daylight. Lily would die in an Akanan artillery barrage. Nicolas, in that train car. Valen, in the Kiroscent Dome.

    It was not right, what happened to all of them.

    She found herself grinding her teeth.

    ¡°Are you alright, Sacred One?¡±

    ¡°Too much suffering,¡± she whispered. ¡°And none of it had to be this way. No. But I must continue.¡±

    After a break, Mirian asked next about mythril and adamantium, which Arenthia had mentioned. She was pretty sure those were the materials that made up the Sword of the Fourth Prophet.

    ¡°It¡¯s the same process, but mythril usually takes five priests channeling the blessing of¡­ channeling mana, I suppose, into the alloy. And a¡­ what was the term you used? A higher resonance in the soul. And we don¡¯t make adamantium anymore. Some was made during the Unification War to help defeat Atroxcidi, but I doubt any has been made since. Mythril requires a special alloy of titanium that requires two rarer metals that are hard to obtain, and adamantium requires both iridium and platinum, the former being one of the hardest metals to obtain in all of Baracuel. Both also require much more powerful blessings from the Ominian. The Order usually contracts with myrvite hunting teams, but since a lot of priests were getting killed during those expeditions, they¡¯ve all but stopped.¡±

    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    He showed her the formulas, which Mirian recorded and memorized. Mythril would indeed take something as strong as a bog lion. Adamantium seemed to require something on par with a leviathan, which seemed impossible. She wondered how much mana it would take to form the materials, and if it was even possible for a single person to have that kind of capacity. Apparently, the spell resistance they offered was even greater, and she already knew from swinging the Fourth Prophet¡¯s sword around that the materials were incredibly strong. Worth pursuing, if I can. And if the Fourth Prophet found a way to bind something to his soul, I¡¯ll find a way too. Only, I can do better than a sword.

    Mirian decided to stay with the priests, as the end came. She could hardly afford to drill so deep each cycle. It had taken most of a day to even reach them.

    They made their way out. The priests were convinced they could get an audience with one of the archbishops, but Mirian had her doubts. The hours were ticking down now, and soon the end would come again.

    ¡°I wish I could see the Mausoleum,¡± one of them said with a sigh. ¡°It must be amazing.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Mirian said. ¡°At first, it was a scary place to dream about, but now, I find it peaceful. I like to walk around it and¡­.¡± Then she stopped. ¡°The other bindings. The Second Prophet wrote them on the walls.¡±

    ¡°He did?¡±

    ¡°I found a note from the Fifth Prophet in one of the lost rooms down here and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Lost rooms? In the Grand Sanctum?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and there¡¯s an unattributed note in one, but it¡¯s obviously him. He mentioned¡­ would that¡­ work? Now I have to wait for that dream again.¡±

    ¡°A note from the Fifth Prophet, and it¡¯s not in one of the vaults. Unbelievable.¡±

    After they emerged, they made a cursory effort to meet with the archbishops at Charlem Palace. They were ¡®too busy to meet¡¯ the ¡®supposed Prophet.¡¯

    The priests all had little crises of faith again, but Mirian had to roll her eyes at the ridiculousness of it. ¡°That¡¯s how it usually goes,¡± she said. ¡°Thank you all again.¡±

    ¡°We have done our duty. I am sorry that so few remember what that is.¡±

    They spent their last hour sharing a nice meal together.

    The end came again.

    ***

    Mirian spent the next cycle hunting down the metals and souls she¡¯d need for mythril. She decided against renting any of the glyph-forges in Palendurio proper, since though Sulvorath might not understand soul magic, the Deeps and Specter certainly did, and might have people watching any of the forges that could make such an alloy. She ended up hiring a few arcanists and a blacksmith to enhance a glyph-forge in a small town up river of Palendurio. The town processed a great deal of special ores that came from the Casnevar range further east, so most of the groundwork for the project was already laid. With her modifications, they could first process the alloy, then keep the metals at the proper temperature while she hunted around the Casnevar Range for greater wyverns. When she returned, she was disgusted by the shoddy craftsmanship, and had to fix five of the glyph sequences herself.

    Her first attempt went poorly, and she realized she needed to reformulate her soul repositories so that they could hold the soul of something like a greater wyvern or a bog lion without degrading it. This tripled the number of runes she¡¯d need on the device, but she found she could still keep the repositories themselves quite small, as long as her runework was precise enough.

    Three cycles after her first attempt, she finally succeeded in partially transforming a tiny ingot of the titanium alloy into mythril.

    Meanwhile, in the realm of dreams, she hunted for the missing runic bindings.

    When she dreamed of the Ominian¡¯s Mausoleum, she always started in the throne room, where that colossal statue sat, draped in calcified ichor. She gazed up at the tall, vaulted ceilings, scouring them now not for a place to connect to her memories, but for hidden runes. Hopefully, the Second Prophet wrote them somewhere I can see them.

    Not for the first time, she wondered what the nature of her dreams were. Some were clearly symbolic, like the half-burning tree, or the sea where anchors came down like rain, or the endlessly growing forest. Others seemed to be real places, though she had no clue when they had existed. Sometime before humans had walked Enteria, it seemed. But the Mausoleum¡­ it was built under the Persaman Triarchy. Is this what it looked like then, or now? Do I see it before the Second Prophet touched it, or after? Did his writing even survive?

    Mirian had heard of lucid dreaming, and tried to apply the principles of it here. I¡¯m holding a levitation wand, she decided.

    Nothing happened.

    I can fly, she thought, and tried to will that concept into existence.

    She failed to do anything of the sort.

    She tried channeling, but even if she imagined an arcane catalyst, there was nothing. When she tried to meditate as if she was focusing on her soul, she could see the currents of it swirling, but couldn¡¯t figure out how to manifest any sort of effect. When she spoke, no sound came out.

    She began to walk the corridors.

    For a Luminate building, the Mausoleum was surprisingly devoid of any writing. There was nothing even in archaic Adamic or even ancient Lorcadian. There were just the endless reliefs of strange creatures, carved in black stone. Tendrils frozen in grasp, eyes staring out of the walls, creatures with too many teeth and claws. Many of them resembled the labyrinthine horrors, only they were larger and more complex.

    At first, Mirian wandered aimlessly. When the dream came again, she tried going in new directions, though it was nearly impossible to keep a mental map of the place in her mind. The rooms changed as she walked through them, and new corridors sprang up as she approached walls. It wasn¡¯t endless, and it was static, she had figured out that much, but the architects had packed a lot of rooms and passages in it. Which of the Elder Gods constructed it, she wondered. And if it happened during the Persaman Triarchy, wouldn¡¯t people have watched those same Gods do it? Is there a historical account of it? Or perhaps it was built long before that, and they simply lied about it.

    After dreaming of it a dozen times, she finally decided to be systematic about it. She went counter-clockwise, starting with the direction she had dubbed ¡®west,¡¯ though it wasn¡¯t clear if that was true, or if ¡®west¡¯ as a concept could even exist in a place where space distorted as it did. Always, the shadows played across the walls, and the light was always soft.

    When it came time to go north, past the throne of the Ominian, she paused. It felt sacrilegious to go behind that colossal statue. She hadn¡¯t noticed it before, but it was like there was a current pushing her back from going there. For some reason, she had never attempted it.

    Willing herself forward, she approached. As the statue grew larger, she felt something, radiating from the marbled skin-like stone. Is that the source of the pressure? It prickled her arcane sense.

    Mirian reached out to touch the statue, but couldn¡¯t bring herself to do it. Instead, she moved around. Anticlimactically, there was nothing there. But beyond, there was a towering window, some fifty feet up.

    There were other windows, high in the vaulted ceiling, but they were always too distant to see properly out of. Mirian approached this one and saw¡ªstars.

    More stars than she had ever seen in the night sky, even far from the city, even on perfectly clear nights. It seemed impossible there were so many of them. There was a thick band of them across one part of the sky. Is this what astronomers mean by the galactic band? she wondered, and then wondered if becoming an arcanist had been a mistake after all. It¡¯s beautiful, she thought, and couldn¡¯t help but stare out at that endless expanse until the dream ended.

    Another cycle passed, and Mirian set out from Torrviol for Frostland¡¯s Gate to see what kind of rune work she could do with the stronger myrvite souls she could find up that way. She¡¯d start with binding the glaciavore¡¯s soul, and see what she could do from there.

    This time, she set up a drop point for Valen, Jei, Nicolas and Torres to leave her letters, but did nothing else beyond burning the registrar¡¯s files on her way out. A merchant she hired would then pick up the goods from that drop point (there would be supplies mixed in with the letters to be less suspicious) before he set out for Frostland¡¯s Gate. Nurea had assured her that the merchant could be trusted to keep his mouth shut.

    Hopefully, the lack of any major changes has him on edge, she thought.

    She became impatient, waiting for the right dreams, but try as she might, she couldn¡¯t figure out how to influence which dreams she had. Each day, she became impatient for sleep, when usually it was the opposite.

    One night when she was walking next to the Ominian, across a land of strange stone spires and thick jungles, she tried pushing her thoughts and questions toward Them. The giant statue slowly turned and looked down at her. In those eyes, she saw¡ª

    a field of endless stars

    a sky full of majestic wings

    an expanse of ocean, glittering

    rolling hills, covered in amber grass

    a sea of trees, trunks the size of towers

    and an expanding cloud of shadow, full of burning eyes, and in that writhing smoke¡ª

    She woke, heart pounding. How does one communicate with something so¡­ incomprehensible? When she had looked in those eyes, she had felt time stretching back beyond imagination, felt memories with such weight they should have crushed her.

    It was just after the myrvite stampede that she had the dream of the Mausoleum again. This time, she turned her gaze back.

    There again was a direction she¡¯d somehow never gone, like it seemed wrong to simply turn away from the Ominian on Their great throne.

    The hall leading back was colossal, the ceiling so high it felt there should be stars hanging in it. As she walked, it felt for a time like she wasn¡¯t moving at all, like she was a ghost drifting through a place out of time.

    Then, all of a sudden, the hallway morphed and she was standing in a vestibule. Colossal pillars of star-lit black stood in perfect rows. High above, between the pillars, she could see more stars, but this time, there was a strange glow emanating from below that made those stars fainter.

    Blocking the exit was a gargantuan double door. The rings dangling from the handle were taller than she was. What lies beyond these doors? she wondered. From the glow coming from beyond the windows, it seemed like there was something, but though she tried to push against them, they didn¡¯t budge.

    She turned around to explore the foyer, and that¡¯s when her eyes caught sight of faint color, blooming by the wall next to the corridor she¡¯d come from.

    Her heart leaped as she walked over to it. All this time, it¡¯s been there. Waiting for me to read it.

    Gently, she extended her hand, tracing them over the runes. Over three thousand years, it¡¯s been here. Written by a hand who knew what it¡¯s like.

    The instructions were written in a language she didn¡¯t know, but seemed to use similar symbols to archaic Adamic. She traced her hands over the symbols again and again, committing them to memory, smiling as she did.

    One binding left.

 Chapter 119 - Declaration

    The world ended, and Mirian woke in her bed, feeling the water drip down her face, and sighed.

    Loop one hundred, she thought.

    Mirian planned to create a stir in Palendurio, so she tried a new variable: killing a half-dozen of the spies and tipping off both the Magistrate and Archmage as to Sulvorath and Specter. She worked with Jei on a plan to vanish for several days. For good measure, she also set up a trap in the spies¡¯ safehouse.

    Enjoy cleaning that up, she thought as she levitated her way out of town and landed on the departing train¡¯s caboose.

    ***

    Mirian first worked on translating the ancient Adamic writing she¡¯d recovered, making friends with one of the language experts who worked in the Great Library. Her memory had been far from perfect, so several words hadn¡¯t quite turned out right. She was able to correct it when she got lucky with her dreams and found herself in the Mausoleum again.

    She also read up on the history of the Luminate Order, and more of the lives of the Prophets. She actually found that several of the historians had a wonderful way of telling the past through narrative, and the books were downright tolerable. As she read, she tried to fill in the gaps. Whenever someone like the Third Prophet was said to have instantly made friends with a king or led a perfect battle, she could imagine that was where their own trials in the time loops had come into play.

    She had instructed her contacts in Torrviol to send her a message early if someone managed to kill Sulvorath or Specter.

    It turned out to be a winning combination of initial conditions.

    The message she got was on the 10th of Solem, and it was from Professor Jei.

    Her letter was absolutely full of details, including an exchange she¡¯d recorded and transcribed using divination magic:

    <blockquote>

    Recorded 8th Solem, 15th hour, in basement of 3rd house on Dockside Street

    Translated from Eskinar

    (Door opens. Footsteps)

    Man (Sulvorath?): What¡¯s the status of the hunt?

    Woman (Specter?): I told you I¡¯d update you if there was progress.

    Man: Why are your damn agents always so incompetent? How hard is it to find one fucking girl?

    Woman: Why is she even going to Cairnmouth? We work better when we understand the motives of our quarry.

    Man: How the hells should I know?

    Woman: You claimed to have watched her for months. Surely you mapped out a psychological pro¡ª

    Man: I did! And the plan worked perfectly. But somehow, your damned curse didn¡¯t incapacitate¡ªwhy am I bothering to tell you this again? She was obsessed with the Monument. Now she¡¯s just abandoned it. But she can¡¯t win as long as I have it.

    (Long pause. Papers rustling).

    Woman: The most likely places are near the Port Market, in the Temple of the Four, or in Fort Aegrimere. Doubtful it¡¯s the Fort. There¡¯s a lot of divination holes in the port district. Lot of paranoid people there. Or she¡¯s not there at all.

    Man: So you keep saying.

    Woman: It¡¯s standard operational procedure.

    (Pause)

    Man: The charges are in place?

    Woman: Of course. And veiled. Including the undetectable magic.

    Man (muttering): Wish that made sense to me.

    Woman: Some people are born with the capacity, and some are not.

    Man: Just frustrating. At least I know she can¡¯t use it either. Operation Zenith is proceeding as planned?

    Woman: Minus the problem in the south.

    Man: We¡¯ll remove him from the equation after her. Once they¡¯re gone, the variables they introduce won¡¯t matter. Then we¡¯ll hunt down the others. Then we¡¯ll win.

    (Pause. Sound of papers rustling.)

    Man: Good. More dossiers. And more blackmail. Our network is spreading nicely. Just wish it was easier to bring the Sacristars in line.

    (Pause. More papers rustling.)

    Man: What are your communiques to Vadriach University for? This is a recent addition in these cycles. You didn¡¯t do this before. Why?

    Woman: A research project on divination. The loop can be exploited to run short experiments on new spells or devices. I was going to wait to tell you until we got the results.

    Man: Hmm. And progress on the airship engines?

    Woman: Yes, Arborholm is continuing their work. The limitation you ask for is¡­ difficult.

    Man: Well, I need to get to Torrviol quicker. That¡¯ll help with all this garbage. The Archmage¡­?

    Woman: No longer trusts me. The skeleton is¡­ difficult to explain away. And I am already busy fending off inquiries from my superiors on the state of operations here. You need to work on explanations that can be used in each contingency.

    Man: It¡¯s a stupid waste. When we get her¡ª

    Woman: But we have to get her first.

    (Pause)

    Man: Fine. I¡¯ll work on a letter to Arturus. We can pull a lot of resources from the Palendurio operation. Wish the fucking Corrmiers weren¡¯t so intransigent. Finances are secure on my end, so we should have a dozen more falcons coming in tomorrow. Don¡¯t be late.

    (Door slams)

    Woman (hissing): Why did God choose an idiot? If I were in his place¡­

    End of transcript

    </blockquote>

    Mirian wished Jei were right there so she could hug her. The recording was a huge victory for her. It told her things she¡¯d been dying to know¡ªliterally. Jei¡¯s notes also detailed the divination spell that Specter had failed to ward against, as well as the surprise attack they launched on the house the next day. Both of them had been killed. With four professors and the Archmage, it hadn¡¯t been a particularly close fight.

    And, it sounded like Sulvorath was keeping the Divine Monument trapped, in case she tried to sneak back into Torrviol. What does he know that I don¡¯t? Though, as she pondered what he¡¯d said, she thought the question ought to be, What does he think he knows? It was interesting that Specter was misinforming him, deliberately, it seemed. And it seems I can leverage Nicolas to interfere with his plans better. Sending an early zephyr falcon down to his dad could prevent the Sacristar family from ever joining the conspiracy. Then she thought, Well, if his dad listens to him. Nicolas doesn¡¯t really like to talk about him all that much, but I know their relationship isn¡¯t that great.

    She reread the transcript several times to help commit it to memory. But what did he mean by ¡®hunt down the others¡¯? Does he mean he¡¯s found more time travelers?

    She¡¯d speculated on the possibility. It seemed caution was still in order, especially in any new areas. But if Sulvorath had found them, and already had made them enemies, maybe she could make them allies. A project for another time, though. I have enough in front of me as it is.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    It was otherwise fantastic news. It meant she could go ahead with her plan, without worrying about the attention it would otherwise draw to her. She dismissed the bindings on her soul so that she would have her true body, and continued her preparations.

    Two days later, she used her knowledge of the gaps in the wards and patrols to sneak into Charlem Palace, arriving in front of the door to the Luminate Order¡¯s section. Two Luminate Guards with ceremonial halberds watched her approach from the gardens. Before they could even ask her, she said, ¡°I¡¯m here to be recognized as a new Prophet. There is little time left. The archbishops and pontiff must meet immediately. Shall I tell them, or will you?¡±

    The two guards looked at each other. ¡°We will¡­ put in a request.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± she said, handing them a sealed letter. ¡°Here is a list of predictions. Most of these are large enough and soon enough they are quite likely impossible to change right now. Ensure they see them.¡±

    ¡°We will,¡± one of the guards said dutifully.

    She left.

    ***

    By the 22nd of Solem, Mirian was getting tired of waiting. She¡¯d arrived each day, but the guards¡¯ orders continued to be to keep out any visitors. By then, the pontiff and the archbishops would have seen proof that she predicted the burning of the Akanan Embassy and the exact wording of several newspaper articles.

    On the 20th, she¡¯d evaded a patrol sent after her to ¡®question her about entering the palace grounds without a permit.¡¯ She wasn¡¯t going to let herself be apprehended and have to come at things from a position of vulnerability. That just lets people ignore you, she knew.

    ¡°What is the delay?¡± she snapped at the Luminate Guards, even though she knew it wasn¡¯t their fault. ¡°And you two! I¡¯m not an idiot. I can see you hiding behind the wall,¡± she told the two nearby palace guards.

    There was a pause, then the guards emerged, wands already drawn. ¡°I apologize, but we do need to apprehend you,¡± one of them said. ¡°All visitors to the grounds must have an approved seal. You¡¯ve violated this law several times.¡±

    ¡°Only if the council meets with me first,¡± Mirian said, voice sharp. ¡°You may escort me there.¡±

    The Luminate guard on the left grimaced. ¡°Our orders are¡ª¡±

    ¡°A Prophet supersedes even a pontiff. Declared or not, I will maintain my rights under the highest law, that of Carkavakom. Who, I might add, the pontiff is planning on references extensively in his speech on the 25th.¡±

    ¡°We cannot,¡± the Luminate on the right said.

    ¡°Please drop your spellbook and any wands you might have,¡± one of the guards said. ¡°If you are declared, you¡¯ll be released, but until then you have no¡ª¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t wait. She drew from her soul repository, and cast with her focus. She used a simple rune pair that put out a shockwave that would hit their souls directly; it would be a painful stun, but wouldn¡¯t actually cause damage. Since her spellbook was closed and the only thing in her hand was the levitation wand, they didn¡¯t expect it. Before they could recover, she flew into the sky and cast amplify voice, enhanced for high intensity.

    ¡°Pontiff Oculo, if you wait to meet with me until after the 1st, the blood of Palendurio is on your hands!¡± she boomed, her voice echoing across the city. The four guards below stared up at her, mouths agape.

    She cloaked herself with sky camouflage and flew away, then used a major illusion spell when she was back on the streets to make her way back to the Bard and Lion Inn to make sure she wasn¡¯t recognized.

    ***

    On the 1st of Duala, Mirian headed to the palace again. Each time before, she¡¯d gone to the front gate, and a quick divination spell told her several Luminate guards and at least one Arcane Praetorian were waiting there, so she headed for the basilica tower, this time flying in from the northeast. She landed on the balcony, then descended down to the council chambers one floor below.

    She had expected the pontiff might be consulting with the archbishops, but the chambers were empty, and the large marble table clean. As she looked around the circular chamber, she saw portraits done of Luminate pontiffs. Her eyes lingered on Oculo Stellnat¡¯s. Beneath it, it had his birth name, from before he took the ascendant name of his office. Alberin Allard, it read. Oh, Mirian thought. Allard. Of course. Another member of the noble families. I should have known.

    Her detect life spell told her Pontiff Oculo was in his dining chamber, attended by several servants. Having already bypassed the guards and locked and warded gates, there was no security between her and the pontiff. She burst into the dining room with barely contained fury.

    ¡°Three times you¡¯ve denied even a response,¡± Mirian said as she entered, while Oculo knocked over a chalice of wine in his surprise. He was dressed in his black and white robes of office, with a heavy gold necklace of medallions, each of which depicted a symbol of the Elder Gods. Up close, she could see the deep wrinkles and sagging skin that came with his age.

    The three servants froze, not sure what to do. One of them was carrying a still steaming platter of roast cockatrice.

    ¡°What are you¡ª?¡± Oculo began.

    ¡°I am a Prophet. I will not be ignored. Have the predictions come true?¡± When he said nothing, she added, ¡°Did you and the archbishops even bother to look at them?¡±

    ¡°Get the guards,¡± Oculo said quietly.

    ¡°Belay that order,¡± Mirian snapped. ¡°You and I need to talk. Did Acolyte Hamel die, like I said?¡±

    Oculo was silent.

    ¡°And the two other deaths? And the embassy attack? And the newspaper headlines? And Corrmier¡¯s occupation of Parliament? And the assassination of the Akanan Prime Minister? And the contents of your own speech to the crowds?¡±

    Oculo was silent.

    ¡°Did you know your bishops here are complicit in accounting fraud? It wasn¡¯t even a particularly complicated scheme, which is why Hamel found it so easily.¡±

    ¡°Leave us,¡± Oculo said to the servants, tone harsh.

    ¡°Oh, you can stop hiding. It doesn¡¯t matter if they know. I know what you¡¯re thinking. You¡¯re thinking that there¡¯s another explanation besides foreknowledge for all those predictions, and that is that I got information about the conspiracy. Because, no doubt, you and all the other conspirators could have written the same list of predictions, couldn¡¯t you? Alberin Allard.¡±

    Upon hearing his birth name, Oculo was still silent, but she could read the barely suppressed emotions on his face. It was a facial expression she was growing familiar with, one that kept showing up on the faces of the powerful. She¡¯d seen it on Cearsia, Luspire, Hanaran, and Bishop Valentar¡¯s faces, as well as some of the upper bureaucrats in Charlem Palace when she was trying to get them to see reason. It was the face one made when they considered themselves superior to the person they were talking to. It was something in between contempt and anger, and it came in flashes, often veiled behind fake smiles and a veneer of polite words that cracked apart like old paint flaking.

    Being talked to with anything other than deference was too much for Oculo. ¡°I don¡¯t know what game you¡¯re playing, but it ends today. The Arcane Praetorians have been alerted, and will be here shortly. You will find your prowess in arcane arts means nothing to me or them.¡±

    Oh, you have your own protection?

    For the first time, she looked at the servants more closely, then glanced behind her. Some sort of secret intruder signal had been sent; she could see the guards starting to move up the stairs towards them. The first tremor hit then, rattling the silverware on the table.

    ¡°It is the last two predictions that no conspirator could make or prevent,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I warned you what the price for Palendurio would be, will continue to be, until you listen.¡± I need another minute, she thought.

    Two of the servants looked frightened, but the last looked too calm. An agent? she wondered. Or perhaps a secret bodyguard? Mirian cast bind person on him, and he toppled over like a statue. When a wand clattered across the floor, she knew she¡¯d made the right call. She then cast lift person on Oculo, reinforced with soul energy to break any spell resistance, but found that even with that her spell dissolved on contact with him.

    There was no time to figure out where his spell-resistant jewelry was, so she lifted the table aside instead, smashing it against the wall, then walked over and grabbed him and hoisted him over her shoulder, ignoring his protests and flailing.

    Behind her, she could hear the Luminate Guards approaching, so she used a telekinetic spell to smash a chair through the stained-glass window behind them and levitated them both out it. There was a smaller balcony on the very zenith of the basilica, and she flew them to it. The tremors were increasing.

    ¡°This is the fate of Palendurio, every cycle, until you help me,¡± she shouted. ¡°All your plans, all your conniving, it comes to nothing!¡±

    She¡¯d timed it perfectly. The leyline rupture began.

    By the blinding light of the leyline, Mirian watched as Oculo¡¯s face went from anger to pure terror.

    In previous cycles, he had no doubt been in that sheltered dining room, the stained glass letting the light in, but never showing him the devastation. Perhaps he had never bothered to see it with his own eyes, preferring to stay hidden in the palace. Perhaps he had told himself that it was unrelated to what he had done.

    Now, he was forced to confront it.

    He watched as fissures opened up around the city, and huge portions of the canals collapsed, pulverizing cliff spires and all the buildings on them. He watched as fires broke out, and as spell engines across the city exploded. The basilica dome cracked beneath them, and portions of Charlem Palace collapsed. South of them, they could watch as several of Ducastil¡¯s spires topple. Clouds of dust and black smoke covered the city, and the distant screams echoed up to their ears.

    Quiet now, Mirian said, ¡°It is your conspiracy that just caused that rupture. I need to know how to stop it, and I need to know the ninth binding.¡±

    Oculo¡¯s face was streaked with tears, though from the pain of the bright light or being forced to watch the disaster, she didn¡¯t know. ¡°I sought only to reunite the church,¡± he said at last, voice trembling.

    ¡°What you wanted doesn¡¯t matter. It only gets worse from here. In four days, the world ends. All across Baracuel, leylines are breaching, and geysers of arcane energy scouring the land. Everywhere, the spellwards have failed, and myrvites run rampant as they try to escape what¡¯s coming. But no one escapes. No one lives. And yet¡­ there is still time for this all to be prevented.¡±

    ¡°I only wanted¡­ it was going to be the best path for the faithful, in the end.¡±

    Mirian stared at him. ¡°This isn¡¯t about you.¡±

    Then, Pontiff Oculo did start crying, and fell to his knees, shivering as he sobbed.

    She watched him, more with contempt than pity. She wondered how long he had planned this all out, and how many people he had killed to get to this point. No doubt, he really had thought himself the hero of the story of Baracuel. Perhaps it even would have worked; if Akana Praediar did conquer Baracuel, perhaps the rift between them and the Church of the Ominian would have healed, though at the cost of how many hundreds of thousands of lives, she didn¡¯t know.

    But in the end, the world hadn¡¯t cared about his intentions.

    ¡°I need the ninth binding,¡± Mirian repeated. ¡°I need the secrets of the third and fourth circles. There isn¡¯t much time left.¡±

    At last, Oculo took his hands from his face and looked at her. ¡°I¡­ I will teach you.¡± The last word, he whispered, so quiet it might have been a trick of the wind: ¡°Prophet.¡±

 Chapter 120 - The Ninth Binding

    The antimagic surge had broken two of the glyphs inside the levitation wand, so they took the narrow stairs that spiraled around the inside of the basilica dome, with Mirian helping guide the frail pontiff. He was still more dejected than scared as they descended.

    When they arrived in the upper chamber, several Arcane Praetorians and Luminate Guards waited for them, wands raised and pistols drawn.

    ¡°Step away from His Holiness,¡± one of them demanded.

    Pontiff Oculo looked at Mirian, then back at the guards. ¡°I have proclaimed her a Prophet,¡± he said at last.

    A stunned silence settled over the room. Then, Mirian took a step forward.

    ¡°Kneel before the Sixth Prophet,¡± Oculo said.

    One by one, they knelt.

    Mirian churned with a thousand feelings. She still felt lingering contempt for Oculo and all the crimes he must be behind, but at the same time it felt surreal to watch all these people kneel for her. It was like she was watching someone else, or like a moment in a dream where things became too improbable to be real.

    But here she was, and they knelt for her. We¡¯ll settle the doctrinal differences about which number Prophet I am later, she thought sardonically.

    Soon enough, Mirian was down in the main chamber. Four Luminate Guards had fetched a massive grimoire, which they carried on a litter and set down on the table with great ceremony. The cover of the book was made with the scaled leather of a drake, and all along the outside were glowing glyphs of preservation and reinforcement.

    As soon as Oculo opened it though, she gasped. Hundreds of pages had been torn out of the book. It was sacrilegious in more ways than one.

    ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°The Church split,¡± Pontiff Oculo said, tracing his fingers gently along the binding. ¡°Then there was war, and many things that were known to be true became inconvenient. The Grimoire of Light was supposed to compile all the knowledge of the Prophets, but little remains of that.¡±

    ¡°And the Ninth Binding is there?¡±

    ¡°No. It has never been committed to paper. The archbishops know different halves of it, in case a pontiff passes before it can be passed down, but only I know the whole thing. But it has the runes you need to know and practice. It will take some time to¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know those eight,¡± she said, pointing to the open page. ¡°I just need those five.¡±

    He stared at her, then said, ¡°I suppose I shouldn¡¯t be surprised.¡±

    Over the next few days, Mirian learned as much as she could. While the Luminate Guard stood watch, they brought her runes to study, and repositories that had been protected in vaults within the palace to use for practice. Mirian memorized both the rune formations and how the vaults could be opened. When Oculo tired, different archbishops would take his place.

    ¡°How is the process for a new Prophet supposed to go?¡± she asked Oculo on the evening of the 3rd of Duala.

    ¡°There¡¯s a long history you should be told of your predecessors, but much of it was lost, and if the hour is as late as you say, there will be little time to teach you it this cycle. Suffice to say, the previous Prophets had far more time. Decades, not days. There was time for slow consideration, since anointing a Prophet is not something one should do lightly. How many times¡­?¡±

    ¡°This is the hundredth,¡± Mirian said.

    A chill settled over the room. The Luminate Guards who were present shifted, and Oculo shivered. ¡°Something has gone wrong, then.¡±

    Mirian decided not to mention the Cult of Zomalator or the other Prophets, but that something had gone wrong was obvious. ¡°I need to know more about the conspiracy,¡± she said. ¡°I can¡¯t stop this cataclysm if I¡¯m busy dealing with Baracuel being invaded.¡±

    Oculo ground his teeth, looking miserable. Finally, he said, ¡°I know less than you think I might. My family did indeed ally with the Corrmiers and the Sacristars, but I was only told my part, and what would result. I thought it would be for the greater good.¡±

    And the greater good of your families, with the other noble families'' assets ready to pilfer, she thought. ¡°Who is pulling the strings?¡±

    ¡°No one,¡± Oculo said. ¡°Or at least, not one person. There¡¯s hundreds of puppeteers, and thousands of strings. I never met with the others directly. Other people did that for me. The Order liaisons with Director Arturus Castill, so I¡¯m sure much has been passed along that way. As pontiff, I am no longer allowed to attend the gatherings of the nobility; I gave up that name when I ascended. But from time to time, I would see my former family members, and each of us would make their wishes known. You will never find people meeting in a dark room, only ten thousand little conversations as the interests of people slowly align.¡±

    Of course, it could never be simple, Mirian thought. But that¡¯s twice I¡¯ve heard Arturus¡¯s name. Sulvorath is sending him letters, which means that not all these ¡®puppeteers¡¯ are equal.

    ¡°It is less a conspiracy and more an inevitability. It is the nature of an empire to grow. Akana Praediar has surpassed Baracuel, its former master. There was always going to be conflict. With preparation and coordination, the conflict could be made short and merciful, as Shiamagoth demanded. If the Luminate Order is allowed to re-merge with the Church of the Ominian, the centralized nature of the Luminates would prevail over the decentralized Church. Baracuel would become a part of the Akana¡¯s republic and shed its outdated monarchy, and the Luminates would stand as a pillar that supports the whole.¡±

    ¡°And the sacrifice of Torrviol, an army, and thousands of people was the price you were willing to pay. My friends. My teachers. Me.¡±

    Oculo clenched his jaw. ¡°Better that than an extended conflict. Look at the endless wars in Persama and Zhighua. Look at what happened during the split, and then the Unification War! War is like uncaging Carkavakom. Far better to keep our hands on the wheel of Xylatarvia¡¯s ship and steer humanity through the stormy waters of history.¡±

    ¡°But why would the Akanans stop? Their Prime Minister is assassinated. They¡¯ve all been told the magical eruptions are our doing.¡±

    ¡°The assassin would have been traced back to a small group of radicals. With their weapon of terror captured, the threat would be nullified, and the group would be caught and executed. General Corrmier, with the help of Parliament, would broker a quick peace. The Akanans would be satiated. Baracuel would heal.¡±

    Mirian couldn¡¯t help but feel that the plan Pontiff Oculo was talking about was too neat and easy, even without the apocalypse interrupting it. After all, the Akanans were ordered to capture the Divine Monument, but Marshal Cearsia always destroyed it. Would the conquering commanders of the Akanan army really stop?

    ¡°What about the war to the south, with Persama?¡±

    ¡°An unexpected setback. But Persama hasn¡¯t been united in centuries. Any time a leader rises there, they inevitably taste the assassin¡¯s blade, and then it¡¯s back to all the warlords and small sovereigns warring with each other. Eventually, we could bring them back to the one true Order of the Ominian, and the world would know peace.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

    ¡°And what of Zhighua?¡±

    ¡°They will bow to civilization eventually.¡±

    Anger flashed through Mirian, but she suppressed it. People like Jei don¡¯t need ¡®civilizing,¡¯ she thought, but she also knew she was talking to someone who was set in his prejudiced ways of thinking. And as Nicolas would point out, how nice that he, Pontiff Oculo, would end up at the top, where history might record him as the great uniter.

    Perhaps his plan would have worked, but she doubted it.

    ¡°Did any of the Prophets make allusions to¡­ other Prophets they had visions of? Ones that shared their journey?¡±

    Oculo¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°No. Of course not. Why?¡±

    ¡°Ah. Nevermind. Probably misremembered something. How many timelines did they see?¡±

    ¡°That is harder to say. Our scholars still debate that. The Fourth Prophet seemed to have seen at least a dozen other futures. Or rather, I suppose¡­ lived through them.¡± Quieter, he said, ¡°No wonder he had such wisdom.¡±

    A chill ran through Mirian. A dozen cycles, each at least a decade. Is it a time limit, rather than a cycle limit? Then with that thought, she shivered again. Gods above, if it took him that long to simply bend the course of Baracuel and Persama¡¯s history, how long will it take me?

    They talked a bit more of the history, then refocused on the study of the runes. The ninth binding was far more complex than any of the other eight, but it was still less complex than several arcane spells she knew.

    The next morning, Mirian asked, ¡°What about the Holy Pages? I saw them in the vaults, but they were blank.¡±

    ¡°It was¡­ defaced. A former pontiff tried to bind it¡ªto what point or purpose, I know not¡ªbut it cannot be soulbound. Instead, they erased the contents. The archbishops tried to recover them, but it was no use. It supposedly kept the words of the Ominian, as interpreted by the Fourth Prophet, so it should¡­ it was supposed to have transcended prophecy, and recorded things directly from the Fourth¡¯s visions. But perhaps it was damaged. I know not how you can align it with your soul.¡± He paused. ¡°It makes sense, now, that the Prophets literally experience the other timelines they spoke of. That it was not merely visions.¡±

    Mirian nodded. ¡°But the Fourth¡¯s sword is ready.¡±

    ¡°You know this?¡±

    ¡°I tested the first four bindings on it. It doesn¡¯t respond to them like anything else I¡¯ve tested.¡±

    ¡°Yes, with the ninth binding, it will join your soul. This, the Relic Destroyer¡ªhis name has been purged from our history for his crime of defacing the Holy Pages¡ªdid test. When he was executed, the sword rematerialized as his soul disintegrated. The Fourth Prophet wielded his sword in many different¡­ visions. So it must have traveled with him, once he made and bound it.¡±

    Oculo flipped through the book, landing on an earlier page. ¡°He based his creations on the writings of the other Prophets, some of which are now lost to us. What we know is that sometimes, deep in the vaults of the Labyrinth, something called ¡®relicarium¡¯ is created. The Fourth said it can be used once, then never again. I see now what he meant. For a time, the Luminates sent people down into the Labyrinth to look for this holy substance. None has ever been recovered by one who is not a Prophet.¡±

    So there is a way, Mirian thought, heart pounding. I don¡¯t just have to rely on what they made. I can make something. And I can use anything. Mythril is not inherently bindable, so the Fourth must have used relicarium he found on his sword.

    Her thoughts went back to the Holy Pages. They must have been bound at some point, or he wouldn¡¯t have been able to carry them through different loops. But with relicarium, I should be able to make it bindable again. Or are the Holy Pages special in some other way?

    The clock on the wall chimed, and she rose from her seat. The cycle¡¯s coming to a close soon. I can speculate later. ¡°Will the Sword of the Fourth Prophet be enough to prove my mastery of the ninth binding? Or should I know something else?¡±

    He thought for some time, and just when Mirian thought she would have to leave before the cycle ran out of time, he said, ¡°Part of me is still not ready to believe. If you come to me with my secrets, I¡¯ll just think you another political schemer, come to ruin my¡­ the good works I intended. The runes and the blade will do far better. Any priest should recognize it. Wield it well. I¡¯ve sent word ahead to the Sanctum.¡± As Mirian turned to leave he said, ¡°Ominian bless you. And¡­ forgive us for the paths we sought to follow.¡±

    That was, she was fairly certain, as close to an apology as she was going to get.

    ***

    The path to the holy vaults was already clear, and no one barred her way. Past the worst of the collapse, she still had to move some rubble around. Like before, she brought water and food for Everad. She¡¯d also brought a full soul repository.

    This time, she had a runic key for the holy vaults, an ancient-looking black tablet that she held in the center of the door. There was no bypassing the runes by the sarcophagus, though; she had to deconstruct them, one by one.

    A feeling of triumph swelled in Mirian as she snuffed out the last rune around the Fourth Prophet¡¯s mummy and reached for the sword.

    Then, she felt the pulse of an antimagic wave traveling through the stone. Her spellbook flared and sent out tendrils of chromatic smoke. And her soul repository had just been emptied by it.

    Shit, she thought. There¡¯s an antimagic pulse that goes through Palendurio just as the cycle¡¯s about to end. I forgot.

    Siphoning her own soul to cast all nine bindings would certainly kill her. There was no way for her to get souls from new myrvites. Only a few minutes remained. Damn! she thought. Do I really have to wait another month? There were no souls she could use anywhere near¡ª

    Then she froze, and looked at Everad. There was a soul she could use. Right next to her.

    Everad stood, back to the vaults, ever vigilant, still chewing on some of the dried fruit and bread she¡¯d brought him. How can I do that to him? And yet, was it any different than his fate normally was? He¡¯d die here, alone and afraid, every cycle she didn¡¯t come.

    But to use his soul¡­

    But souls disintegrated upon death anyways, unless they were bound.

    A tremor shot through the ground, stirring up dust and sending bits of rock crumbling from the ceiling.

    His death will serve some purpose, at least, she rationalized, and realized she¡¯d decided. Too much was at stake for her to waste an entire cycle on sentiment.

    My enemies aren¡¯t afraid to slaughter people by the thousands, and they don¡¯t even have a good reason.

    ¡°Sorry, Everad,¡± she whispered, and siphoned herself so she could cast the four bindings on him, linking it to the repository. He felt the tendrils on him, though he no doubt had no idea what she had done, but he turned to look at her. She paged through her spellbook, looking for a spell that hadn¡¯t been damaged beyond use. Force blades still had enough intact glyphs to use.

    She closed her eyes as she cast it. There was a wet cutting sound, then a dull thud. The soul repository filled.

    Another tremor shook the room. She turned before she opened her eyes, then seized the Sword of the Fourth Prophet and began to cast.

    The first four bindings connected the repository to the sword. Then she worked to layer the fifth through eighth bindings, which connected the sword to her own soul, wrapping around them both.

    The ninth binding wrapped around it all. She visualized it as a tendril of white light, one that split out from her soul like a sea serpent bursting from the ocean. It snaked around the sword with coils of brilliant light, and some aura around the sword glowed. Relicarium, Oculo had called it. Once bound, it would be hers until her soul was destroyed.

    Her mind strained as she wrestled with the ninth binding. It was like it really was a sea serpent, writhing through stormy waters as it sought to escape. She kept her focus absolute, and shaped it as it needed to be, until the currents of the light around the sword were indistinguishable from the currents that made up her own soul. Her aura flared as her soul¡¯s glow intensified. There was shaking all around her, though she could hardly tell if it was the earth moving or her own body trembling with exertion.

    The light around the sword intensified, and then the blade seemed to dissolve, shrinking until it vanished, and the room grew dark. But in her own soul, she could see new threads; a foreign thing, both a part of her and not, shining like a shell¡¯s abalone.

    She let out a gasp, her whole body shaking from the effort, sweat dripping down her like she¡¯d just run through the Mage¡¯s Grove for an hour. She leaned hard onto the sarcophagus. At first, her gaze was unfocused, but then she found herself staring at the corpse of the Fourth Prophet. Thank you, she told him. Briefly, she felt a flash of envy that he got to rest. Not my turn yet.

    She took a deep breath, steadying herself. The world ended again.

 Chapter 121 - Good Company

    Mirian woke.

    A hundred cycles were behind her. Over seven years since this started, she thought, as the water from the ceiling dripped down on her. I wonder if I could use relicarium to plug that damned hole.

    The answer was ¡®no,¡¯ she already knew. It had to be bound to a soul, not a location, and besides, it would be a waste. But she could certainly fantasize about it.

    Mirian reached down to pick up her spellbook and use raw magic to turn off the water heater above, but as she did, she nearly dropped it in shock. Her auric mana was rapidly expanding. It wasn¡¯t just spinning faster, either; it felt like it had a denser quality to it. I think the Fourth Prophet made more than a sword, she thought.

    She tried summoning it, but even though she could sense the rapier when she looked inward, she couldn¡¯t manipulate it. I suppose I¡¯ll still need the focus.

    Mirian fixed the hole, assuaged and hugged Lily, then made her lightning wand so she could kill the bog lion and get the levitation wand, then the focus and orichalcum.

    There, in the shadows of the Torrviol Underground, she closed her eyes and reached for the Sword of the Fourth Prophet.

    She could see her soul swirling around, shaped as her own body, but made of threads of light. There, amidst them, was a cluster of nacreous threads. She willed them to move, changing their path through the currents so that they traveled from around her waist to up her arm, then into her hand. With a surge of willpower, she grabbed those threads, pushing them in that same way that one pushed mana through glyphs, only here, it was something far denser, far heavier, and far less volatile. As the pontiff had instructed, she visualized the runes of the ninth binding and imagined it moving through those. She imagined grasping it by the hilt and holding it aloft.

    There was a flash of light, and the sword was suddenly in her hand, the handle nestled snugly in her palm, the blade extending out, gleaming in her summoned light.

    Her heart soared as she admired it; it was a thing of beauty. The mythril core gleamed like moonlight, and thin strips of adamantium both glittered and absorbed the light in equal measure, making even the dark edge of the rapier stand out from the shadows.

    And now it was hers.

    ¡°I need a name for you,¡± she whispered to it.

    When Mirian was still in preparatory school, her astronomy teacher had used an illusion-generating spell engine to show them what a solar eclipse looked like. When she looked at the Fourth Prophet¡¯s blade, she thought of that: the way the black moon was surrounded by a corona of white and amber fire.

    Eclipse, she told the blade.

    As she looked at it, her eyes stung, and she blinked back a tear. She¡¯d paid a high price to bind it. I wonder what they did, those other Prophets. What prices they paid that they never talked about, that no one ever knew of.

    Then and there, the exhaustion hit her. She had been working at this for years now, with little rest. She¡¯d won the Battle of Torrviol, then hadn¡¯t stopped until¡ªuntil she¡¯d yelled at the God¡¯s damned Pontiff of the Luminate Order, then looted the holy vaults of the Grand Sanctum.

    I¡¯ll visit Arriroba again, she decided. Her family was still missing, traveling somewhere between Alkazaria and Palendurio, route unknown, but Granpa Irabi would be there, as would so many other familiar faces. She could make it through Alkazaria before the southern traveler sieged the city.

    Mirian stowed Eclipse back in her soul, then levitated out of the passage and then out the exit by the old theater.

    She avoided her usual sabotage and networking efforts, instead just scribing a few practical spells and fixing the train engine. While walking through town, a thought struck her as she passed the students walking to and from their classes: They look so young.

    She did take out several loans so she could have plenty of coin during her vacation, and created a small spell engine that would ignite the registrar records at night so that her long term plans wasn¡¯t compromised. Hopefully, he spends a few days wondering when the hammer will fall, looking for traps or schemes where there are none. Whatever power he could project, she didn¡¯t think it had much reach out east, and once the southern traveler laid his siege, it would be nearly impossible to convince anyone to move assets out to some town in the middle of nowhere.

    Her errands done, she only spent a part of the day in Torrviol. It was nice to simply board the train normally, instead of while fleeing after a killing spree and several counts of arson. She enjoyed tea and fruit-filled pastries in the dining car, then used minor illusion while she boarded the next train, just as an extra precaution. Once she was settled in her sleeper car, she enjoyed a fine dinner of roast duck in Madinahr curry with Tlaxhuacan fried yuca and fresh fruit from the Cairn River groves. Then she slept early.

    When she got to Alkazaria, she spent some time doing something she hadn¡¯t done in ages¡ªat least, not unless it was part of subterfuge or a heist: she went shopping for new clothes.

    She perused the open markets of Altrukyst¡¯s District, finally finding a tailor who navigated a nice path between traditional and practical apparel. The long tunic she chose had plenty of the vibrant colors and elaborate patterns Alkazaria was known for, while the trousers that matched it were both light and sturdy, a simple gray that matched her eyes. She traded in her enchanted cloak for one more suited to the arid weather; a half-cape that had simple heat siphoning glyphs that could be adjusted to either cool or heat the wearer. It had the same shade of gray as the trousers, but had the matching patterns and colors of the tunic along the outside.

    The train to Madinahr was, of course, broken, but she already knew there was no way for her to make it there in time. Somewhere along the tracks would be a melted spell engine and a bunch of grumpy workers.

    This time, she didn¡¯t bother buying an eximontar. They were enjoyable to ride, and would cut down her travel time significantly¡ªif she didn¡¯t already have a levitation wand.

    Instead, Mirian bought a mana elixir and filled a light traveler¡¯s pack with food and water, then headed east on foot. She considered heading on a diagonal path straight to Arriroba, but there were no spellwards or travel obelisks on that route, and she could still only levitate for so long. She stuck with the well-beaten path.

    When she was far enough from the city outskirts and out of sight of any other travelers, she levitated high into the sky, then streamed forward.

    Flying was one of those things that never got old, and she enjoyed the elation of the wind whipping past her, sending her cape fluttering about and her spellbook jangling on its chain. Below, she could see the farms that paralleled the tracks and the faint shimmer of the spellward beyond them. To her right, the azure waters of the East Sound glittered in the sunshine and she could see the occasional ship hugging the coast.

    She went for just over an hour, and though she felt she could go longer, she knew she¡¯d need to conserve her auric mana in case she encountered any hostile myrvites, and to repair the damaged obelisks along the route.

    Between walking and flying, it only took her three days to reach Madinahr, far faster than the seven it had taken her riding an eximontar.

    She spent some time walking around the neighborhood of her preparatory school, thinking of her old friends, wondering what they were doing now and where they were. Torrviol Academy¡¯s rigorous courses had sapped so much of her time that she¡¯d fallen out of contact with them. She thought of the long walks they¡¯d taken through the market, talking about the silly dramas of young love, or picking out where they¡¯d open a shop and what it would look like, or griping about which classes they were absolutely sick of.

    In some ways, the market hadn¡¯t changed at all from what she remembered. Some of the same merchants still sat by their stalls, the inventories much as they had been six years prior. The bright colors still waved the same way in the breeze. Only, the schoolchildren were all strangers to her, and again, she couldn¡¯t help but think how young they all looked to her now. Was I really like that back then? she wondered.

    She stayed the night in Madinahr, then took her time traveling north, remembering what it was like before her preparatory school, when she and her parents would take a donkey down with them when they ran errands, usually to buy or repair some tool, or get some ingredient the village was short on. That had been before Zayd.

    Little Zayd, she thought, heart full of longing to see him again. I hope the trip has been wonderful each month, and when the end comes, it¡¯s beautiful and swift.

    The countryside was as she had remembered it, full of that subtle beauty where the browns and yellows were dotted by those little places of color where a desert flower bloomed or a cactus stood tall on a hill. By the river, there were the farmlands, little mixed patches of color and life.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    As was the family tradition, she took a room from Pardia at Altrukyst¡¯s Warm Candle Inn.

    ¡°Mirian!¡± she exclaimed when she saw her. ¡°I thought you were out in Torrviol.¡±

    ¡°Ah, just visiting. I passed some exams early, so got leave to come here,¡± she lied easily. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you. How¡¯s the inn?¡±

    ¡°Same as it always is,¡± she said, and they chatted amiably about nothing at all. There were no politics, no schemes, and not even the slightest hint of a dark conspiracy. It was wonderful.

    Her impatience to be home got the best of her the next morning. When she was out of sight of the inn, she flew up for a few minutes, looking at the countryside from above for the first time. How small it is, from up here, she realized. And how big the world is. Even high above on a clear day, she couldn¡¯t see the mountains to the north, just the scrublands and hills. She could only see this small section of the map. And beyond the map, there was more, where the world continued on past the known continents. Scholars had long since proven Enteria¡¯s size based on measuring shadows and a bit of math, and beyond the oceans, past the deadly leviathans and ship-smashing storms, there were places humans had never seen. Perhaps other continents, perhaps fantastic creatures. As a child, she¡¯d loved imagining them.

    When will I get to choose my own path, one that goes beyond duty? she wondered wistfully. Or perhaps I never will.

    She dropped down a few miles outside of Arriroba, appreciating the familiar faces she saw on the road or tending their farms as she walked. Once in the village, she picked the lock to her family home with a bit of raw magic telekinesis, then settled in. For a day, she just made easy talk with the people she¡¯d known growing up, repeating the lie she¡¯d told Pardia at the inn.

    Then she sought out Grandpa Irabi.

    She found him playing horseshoes with some children who were just a bit older than Zayd. For a while, she just watched as he complimented their throws or made some correction to their technique. After a bit, he glanced up at Mirian and said, ¡°You¡¯ll have to play the next round without me. Someone else needs to see me.¡±

    He always knows, somehow.

    Grandpa Irabi looked Mirian up and down, then got a curious look. ¡°You¡¯ve grown older,¡± he said finally.

    ¡°How do you know?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s the way you hold yourself. And you¡¯re more controlled. Has the last year in the Academy done that much for you?¡±

    She gave him a sad smile. ¡°It¡¯s been more than a year, for me, at least,¡± she said. ¡°Let¡¯s walk as we talk. The cliffs are nice this time of year.¡±

    ¡°Indeed they are,¡± he said, and joined her.

    Mirian started from the beginning, telling him of those first loops, then the battle, then her discovery of the other time travelers and the revelations of just how deep the war conspiracy ran. Just as he had before, Irabi betrayed no surprise, and asked no questions, he simply let her talk.

    By then, they¡¯d made it to the cliffs where they sat, overlooking the rolling hills, which alternated between fallow fields and olive groves. ¡°¡­and I don¡¯t want to try to find my family, because if I lead Sulvorath to them, then they also become targets. And I just couldn¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t even want to imagine anything happening to Zayd. So I came here to talk again.¡±

    Grandpa Irabi nodded. ¡°You¡¯ve had quite a burden placed on you,¡± he said.

    ¡°I just wish¡­ that I didn¡¯t have to face it alone,¡± and as she said it, she felt her body deflate.

    She felt Grandpa Irabi squeeze her shoulder. ¡°Perhaps you won¡¯t, at some point. If the Ominian saw fit to have others join you, perhaps all of them aren¡¯t so bad.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Mirian said with a sigh. ¡°But I can¡¯t risk even finding out unless I have enough power. I can¡¯t risk a curse disabling me.¡±

    Irabi nodded again. ¡°Now you understand the perspective of those with power. Once they have it, they fear losing it.¡±

    Mirian recoiled slightly. ¡°But this is different! As far as I know, there¡¯s only three of us. And if we fail¡­¡±

    ¡°Maybe it is different. I didn¡¯t say you were wrong, just that you can understand their perspective better.¡±

    Mirian took in a deep breath. ¡°Yeah, I guess.¡± She ground her teeth for a bit, not liking the idea that she had anything in common with the other powerful people she¡¯d encountered, like the bishops or Oculo. ¡°I thought that maybe if I showed them that their stupid conspiracy was leading to the literal end of the world, they might be¡­ repentant. The Pontiff helped kill everyone in Torrviol, and he didn¡¯t even regret that, only regretted it didn¡¯t work like he wanted. I can watch those bishops commit their crime, and they¡¯ll still lie to my face. I can save the Akanan Embassy, but General Corrmier will just accuse the Akanan merchants of treachery anyways, and even with no cause, people will take to the streets to harass them, burn down their shops, and kill them.¡±

    Grandpa Irabi let his fingers run gently over a strand of grass, his eyes pondering the horizon. ¡°People are always looking for an excuse to do what they already wanted to do. And people are built up over a lifetime of thoughts and habits. A day is too quick to really change their hearts.¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°Then how can I fix it?¡±

    ¡°Can you fix it? A vase that is broken can be mended. But an egg that is shattered can never be put back together.¡±

    Mirian sighed again. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s why we have chickens.¡±

    Irabi burst out laughing, and Mirian couldn¡¯t help but smile herself. He let the silence that followed linger in the air like the soft breeze, then said, ¡°You will have to find out if there is anything to fix. That priest, Hamel, sounds like a good sort. And the embassy worker, Kathera, was happy to help you. It is usually the greedy who claw their way to the top, but that does not mean most people are greedy.¡±

    ¡°Everad,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I still feel terrible about what I did to him.¡± She embraced her focus, then closed her eyes, picturing the sequence of the ninth binding. The sword materialized in her hand, looking more vivid than anything else around them. ¡°I¡¯ve done horrible things. And I think I have to keep doing them. Because there¡¯s going to be war. Or rather, there already is a war. I can see no path forward that doesn¡¯t involve fighting. I don¡¯t think these conspirators will stop unless they¡¯re made to.¡±

    Grandpa Irabi let his eyes wander over the shining blade, taking it in. ¡°Violence befalling humanity isn¡¯t a new story, sadly. Tell me, did you start this war?¡±

    ¡°Of course not.¡±

    ¡°Is it the defenders in a war who are culpable?¡±

    ¡°Of course not,¡± she repeated.

    ¡°Then you must be forgiven for defending your home and family. I know that here¡ª¡± Irabi said, jabbing a finger toward her chest, ¡°¡ªis why you fight. War is always a terrible thing. The most just and worthy wars are still as awful as the five hells opening up. But if there is a war, it is not because one person has made a poor choice. So though I abhor violence, I feel obligated to tell you to keep your courage. And if you must do violence, hold on tight to your humanity, as you fight. And hear your heart when it speaks, even if you cannot always listen to it.¡±

    Mirian felt tears pricking her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can, Grandpa.¡±

    ¡°I know you will,¡± he said, words soft. ¡°Sometimes it helps to hear what we already know.¡±

    She closed her eyes, letting the Prophet¡¯s rapier dissolve into luminous mist. ¡°It would be easier if¡­¡± she started, but she couldn¡¯t finish. She wanted so badly to be able to walk her path with someone. Someone who could support her, without having to be told to. She wanted a companion. An equal, who she could trust. She couldn¡¯t find the words to express that yearning properly, but she saw that Granpda Irabi understood anyways.

    ¡°If you are to walk this road alone, you must make sure you are in company you enjoy.¡±

    ¡°How do I¡­ how do I find peace in myself, when my existence is an endless fight?¡±

    ¡°You find the moments you can close your eyes, and look for that peace. I see it over there,¡± he said, and Mirian could just make out the two children he¡¯d been instructing on horseshoes still hard at play. ¡°And over there,¡± he said, pointing to several people laughing over by the market stalls. ¡°And there,¡± he said, gesturing to a man taking a nap in the sun. ¡°And in the birdsong, and the gentle wind, and those clouds hanging over the horizon. Then you bring that peace inside you with big deep breaths, and hold it as long as you can.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Meditation,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve done a bit of it. I learned it back when I was a kid and¡­ anyways, it just feels like a waste of time. I need to spend as much time as I can making progress.¡±

    Grandpa Irabi watched a stray leaf bound about in the wind, then said, ¡°Time spent healing your mind is never time wasted.¡±

    ***

    He was right, of course. Mirian spent much of the rest of the cycle joining Grandpa Irabi for dinners at different houses in the village, catching up again with acquaintances and old family friends. The rest of the time, she spent in meditation. She let Irabi¡¯s words guide her, and as she closed her eyes and listened, she couldn¡¯t help but see her soul swirling about, that endlessly spinning gyre. When he was busy, she took walks around the village, finding moments of peace to collect and stash in the Mausoleum like she was a squirrel preparing for winter. Then when she meditated alone, she would focus on those memories.

    As the cycle neared its end, she began to notice that her meditation was changing her soul¡¯s currents. Idly, she wondered what kind of effect that might have on her auric mana, since there was a clear connection between her soul and her mana generation and capacity. Research for another time, she thought. The Luminates seemed to have lost a great deal of knowledge on souls, but perhaps some Akanan auramancer or Tlaxhuacan nagual would know something about that.

    On the last day of the cycle, Mirian stood outside her family¡¯s apartment, trying to remember something. There was something she had wanted to see, something she¡¯d wanted to do¡­ but the harder she tried to think of it, the more her mind seemed to slip over it. This damned memory curse, she thought. She could see so vividly herself, moving through this village with her dad on her way to school. She could remember the language lessons as he tutored him so she could catch up. She had been seven, right? But whatever had come before that slipped away like shadows behind a fogged mirror, and the harder she stared, the denser that fog became. Despite her progress in soul magic, she couldn¡¯t begin to manipulate a binding so deeply embedded in a soul, especially one so small.

    Ah well, she thought.

    She examined her aura. She had done little magic during her retreat, so its currents were fast and its body wide.

    ¡°Hey Grandpa Irabi,¡± she called. He was comforting a girl who had started to cry as the magical eruptions and quaking intensified. ¡°You ever wanted to be a bird?¡±

    He raised an eyebrow, and she grinned.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see how many I can take. Hey kids!¡± she called to a group of schoolchildren who were in the village square. ¡°Who wants to fly?¡±

    She spent the last few minutes taking them up in groups of three or four using an enhanced lift person as she levitated, spiraling around the sky like a dancer, letting out bursts of light like fireworks. It was a nice gift to be able to give them, and she smiled to see the children¡¯s joy as they soared.

    She took Grandpa Irabi last, and let him glide with her like an eagle.

    ¡°Thanks again,¡± she said, as the moon descended.

    ¡°Keep these moments close to you,¡± he said, over the howling wind.

    ¡°I will,¡± Mirian promised.

 Chapter 122 - Preparing For The Return

    Mirian returned to sabotaging Sulvorath, and returned to Palendurio in her disguise as Micael. She kept off the grid until it was late enough in the cycle that the other travelers would have trouble moving against her, then revealed Eclipse to the pontiff and archbishops and demanded their aid. When Pontiff Oculo and the archbishops went down to check the holy vaults, they found the Sword of the Fourth Prophet was indeed missing from the sarcophagus. It was hard to deny she was a Prophet after that.

    That was also important information. Mirian had wondered if she could perhaps bind several of the Prophet¡¯s swords to her, but it seemed that once an object was traveling through time with her, it was subject to the same rules she was. It made sense; there was only one Mirian. There was only one sword.

    Jei was able to evade assassination for most of the cycle, but eventually succumbed. However, Professor Torres was able to send her a report on a new development: the Akanans were mass producing a divination spell engine, and using samples of her hair and skin left in her dorm room. They had made copies of the device both in Torrviol and Cairnmouth, moving them around in carts. Torres had gotten most of the blueprint of the device from her contacts among the artificers in Torrviol, and deduced the rest of the design in concept, if not in the exact glyph sequences.

    Annoying, she thought. If Sulvorath kept that up, he might even realize she wasn¡¯t in Cairnmouth.

    Before the cycle ended, though, she tried something. She unlocked the third holy vault, and took both a regular pen and a scribe¡¯s pen. She disabled the runes around the Holy Pages, then wrote a single letter: M. With her scribe¡¯s pen, she made a simple viroc glyph next to it, which would serve no magical function alone, but was a foundational static glyph that would remain stable for several years without interference.

    ***

    The blueprints Torres had sent proved useful. Mirian worked in the Academy crafting center to create her own spell engine that was conceptually similar. However, instead of linking her hair and dead skin to a series of divination spells, it linked it to a simple kinetic pull spell. This allowed her to vacuum up anything that had once been a part of her body, cleaning the apartment of any trace of her. Thankfully, her innate spell resistance prevented the device from pulling her into it.

    In its place, she took hunks of bog lion hair from the one she killed in the catacombs and had Professor Seneca help her with the chemistry that would dye algae-green hair black. She¡¯d also taken scrapings of the bog lion¡¯s hide, magically dehydrated it, then powdered it. She sprinkled it around her bed and over her clothes, then repacked her room so it looked like it usually did.

    Have fun with that, she thought as she left.

    ***

    Mirian primarily focused on her leyline detectors. She¡¯d analyzed the runework the Luminates were using to protect their relics and had isolated the sequences that would shunt most of the arcane magic around the devices, meaning she could use her original idea of measuring the arcane energy. She stayed at different inns this cycle, just to make sure she didn¡¯t fall into any predictable patterns. The tables in her room quickly filled with books on arcane physics and blueprints. When she ran out of room, she tacked up the drawings and diagrams she needed on the walls. She wondered what anyone who walked in would think.

    She discovered, as she inquired about for parts and arcane inks, that several of the artificer guilds had great solutions to her problems and pre-fabricated artifice that would speed the construction quickly. They refused, however, to share unless she joined their guild. That would require her credentials as a full arcanist, which she didn¡¯t have, and someone in the guild to sponsor her, which would basically involve a combination of bribery and flattery.

    Mirian broke into their building at night instead, finding it much more convenient. And the fact that I can break into your heavily warded building this easily makes me qualified for your guild, you chaff-brained morons, she thought as she carried away a stack of blueprints and a pseudospell synthesizer.

    Construction of the devices took far more than her makeshift workshop in her room at the inn. She found an unaffiliated artificer¡¯s shop and paid her handsomely to use the tools and space there, and paid her extra for a vow of secrecy. She implied that the local guilds didn¡¯t like her so that she wouldn¡¯t suspect she was really hiding from whatever network Sulvorath had access to here.

    By the 20th, she had five devices built. Mirian deployed one each to the north and south of Palendurio, then rented a train car to ship the three others (and their load of fossilized myrvite fuel) down to the villages southeast of the capital so she could set them up for better triangulation. She and her parents had passed through the area when she was young, so the dense farmland clustering around village centers looked familiar enough. Plenty had changed, though. It seemed every house now had its own spell engine, churning out light and heat. The world is changing, she thought. Or, rather, it was.

    On the 26th, she used the ongoing riots to gain easy access to an Akanan merchant¡¯s shop who was selling artifice imported from Vadriach. She stole a device that could create an illusionary representation of the data on a carved map of Baracuel. The artificers had been selling it to expedition teams who were either delving the Labyrinth or hunting myrvites in the wilderness, so she had to adjust the glyphs to match what she was taking readings on, but the device was actually quite ingenious, and equally complex. It actually had an automatic calculation machine inside it, which she thought was a wonderful idea.

    Akanan artifice has reached a level above anything we¡¯re doing here, she realized as she examined it. I need to get over there, not just to figure out the conspiracy, but to learn from them.

    She hurried to craft another set of runic protections that would prevent the device from being exploded by the incoming antimagic wave on the 1st. Then Mirian went back down south, hoping the worst of the shockwave would dissipate before it reached that far, but was ready with her arcane inks and scribe pen for if it did.

    Despite the distance and the protections, the map was damaged slightly by the Palendurio breach. Mirian carefully went through with an arcanometer and redid any glyphs that were weak or cracked. Once she did that, it was a matter of linking each device to the map.

    The spell engine on the train had been damaged, so upon her return she helped repair it so it could go north again. An hour out from Palendurio, they came to a break in the tracks where an arcane eruption had melted the steel into a puddle. By then, it was near evening, so Mirian just hopped off the train and levitated her way to the next device, rested and drank a mana elixir, then levitated to the last one.

    When the map lit up with the illusionary projection, she couldn¡¯t help but grin. It had actually worked. She had real data on the leyline explosion.

    For two days, she sat down with an abacus and a stack of paper, running through different numbers and double-checking the triangulations. The second detector turned out to be giving junk readings; despite all the protections, the shockwave had knocked out two key glyphs in the sequence, not destabilizing it enough to break, but making the data it collected useless. Once she discarded that from the illusionary map, the results lined up a lot better with what she¡¯d witnessed.

    She played the results through the map several times, fascinated as she watched the energy surge as it developed beneath the ground. That has to be below the predicted tenth level of the Labyrinth, she thought. At least a kilometer deep. Right before it burst open, though, it was like the energy was crawling towards something.

    Except, it erupted before it got there, then spread out violently all at once. Then, a huge portion of the energy seemed to jerk away, moving north so it was between Cairnmouth and Palendurio.

    It was the path of the energy as it advanced on Palendurio that interested her most. If it¡¯s an arrow, it¡¯s pointing¡­ there, she thought. Graphing a straight line was something young children learned to do; she could easily map out a predicted path of the energy. She drew the line over a paper map she had of the city. She memorized the linear equation and the intercept of the line where it crossed the Magrio River. That greatly narrowed the places she would have to cover.

    There was another strange reading, one she couldn¡¯t quite understand. North of Alkazaria, there was a powerful pulse of arcane energy, but unlike the arcane eruptions and leyline breaches, the energy didn¡¯t fade entirely. For the rest of the day, right up until she¡¯d turned off the devices to retrieve the data, that arcane energy lingered. I¡¯ll have to investigate that at some point, she mused. But for now, it was too far away, and she had enough to do.

    She headed for the holy vaults.

    Mirian brought food and water for Everad again, but couldn¡¯t look him in the eye. She still felt wracked with guilt, even though he didn¡¯t remember it, even though he never would remember it.

    When she got inside the third holy vault, though, she didn¡¯t need to break the runic wards around the Holy Pages. She could simply read the top page:

    A viroc glyph, and beside it, the letter M.

    It¡¯s the perfect tool, she realized. With that¡­ and I know from the pontiff it can be erased as well. I just need to find relicarium.

    Well, there was only one place to look for that. But if she was going to make progress in the depths of the Labyrinth, magic alone wasn¡¯t going to help her. She either needed to kill two greater labyrinthine horrors inside an antimagic field, or run the world¡¯s deadliest obstacle course.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    To destroy a mountain¡­ she thought.

    ***

    It was finally time to enact one of her long-term plans.

    Sulvorath was leaning heavily on Specter¡¯s contacts, Specter¡¯s knowledge, and Specter¡¯s authority. If there was one thing that would set him back more than anything else, it was removing her from Torrviol at the start of each cycle.

    Mirian had been destroying the registrar¡¯s records each cycle so that Sulvorath had no easy way to know who was part of the Academy¡¯s student body. He¡¯d no doubt have some familiarity with who belonged in the Academy, but he hadn¡¯t been attending it for six years, nor had he gone through as many cycles as she had in Torrviol. As far as he knew, Micael Nezzar would just be another student.

    And, she already knew that he never paid attention to Valen, and that Valen had an open bed in her room. If the registrar screwed up and accidentally placed two students of the opposite sex as roommates after the tragic fire in their office, well, that sort of thing might happen.

    She knew how to defeat Specter¡¯s orichalcum spell resistance, and now had her own. She had a weapon that couldn¡¯t be taken away, and could probably match anyone but Archmage Luspire in spellpower. She had a disguise that could only be revealed by someone carefully analyzing her soul with a focus, and only the priests and Specter could manage that.

    She also could now make sure the priests were on her side.

    After going through her usual routines and working on her spellbook and some of the preliminary artifice for most of the day, she went to go see Valen.

    ¡°Hey,¡± she said, barging into her room just after dinner. ¡°How would you like to take part in a secret operation to take down a corrupt Deeps agent and two foreign spy cells? Also, I already know the answer is ¡®yes.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Sounds boring,¡± Valen said, because she liked being difficult. ¡°Hard pass.¡±

    ¡°All spywork is boring. But what if I told you it also involved kissing me while I¡¯m disguised as a boy because I¡¯m using forbidden celestial magic? Also, I want to practice sword-fighting you. With no safety enchantments.¡±

    Valen reached for a smarmy response, then closed her mouth, then opened it again, then closed it.

    ¡°You look like a fish,¡± Mirian said, raising an eyebrow.

    ¡°¡­with, like, rapiers? Or did you have another sword in mind?¡± Valen finally said.

    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll let you decide,¡± Mirian told her. ¡°Anyways, I¡¯ll need to stay the month as your roommate.¡±

    The other girl gawked at her, now totally disarmed. ¡°Who are you and what did you do with Mirian?¡±

    Mirian had mercy and explained.

    ***

    That evening, she found Nicolas in the usual spot. ¡°Surprise,¡± she said, levitating down next to him.

    He gaped at her. ¡°You can levitate?¡±

    ¡°And I know about your childhood love of cows, and we¡¯ve sworn to be allies despite the¡­ difficulties,¡± she said, then explained the basics of the time loop and their agreement. Once she¡¯d done that, she said, ¡°And I¡¯ll need Nurea to contact the Syndicates in Cairnmouth on your way down.¡±

    ¡°On our way down?¡±

    ¡°Sulvorath is going to contact your dad about the conspiracy in Palendurio,¡± she said. ¡°I need to know what he¡¯s saying, and how your dad plays a part in all this.¡± The Sacristars were now a minor noble house, but they still had contacts and allies among enough people that it could be a critical source of information.

    Nicolas made a face. ¡°Are you sure I can¡¯t just mud wrestle a bog lion?¡± He gave a loud sigh. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll do it. I mean, I guess I have to, right? I¡¯ve probably told you¡­ about¡­ you know.¡±

    ¡°You haven¡¯t. Not really,¡± she said.

    ¡°Oh,¡± he said. ¡°I guess I should tell you. It¡¯s just¡­ hard.¡± Nicolas stared out at the lake. ¡°Must be strange for you. I hardly know you, but you know me. And that gap, it¡¯s just going to get bigger, isn¡¯t it? So. My dad. Marduke Sacristar. He¡¯s always been¡­ critical of me. Like, ¡®me¡¯ is not enough, he always treated me like clay to be modeled, only I was never the right shape, despite all his squeezing and molding. And it¡¯s worse because¡­ well, Nurea is cool, but she always took his side. Knightly duty and all that. And my mom¡­ yeah. So there was never anyone to turn to. It was such a relief to be free of him when I went to preparatory school. I made up some horseshit about learning how to run my own household just so I could move from the estate to an apartment. He¡¯ll be pissed when I show up, but I can spin it as critical to my development as heir.¡±

    ¡°And you can let him know the shape of the Palendurio conspiracy,¡± Mirian said, and explained the outlines of it. As she was talking, she realized that Nicolas didn¡¯t hold the attraction she¡¯d once had for him. He was still handsome, still nice to talk to. She had trouble putting her finger exactly on what had changed.

    Or maybe that¡¯s the problem, she thought, after she was done talking. Only one of us changes. It didn¡¯t bother her with Valen, because what was between them was more of a game than a relationship. But with Nicolas, she had liked his maturity, his honesty, and his confidence. What she really wanted was someone who could change with her. It wasn¡¯t even his fault¡ªbut she could see inside herself that the flame had cooled.

    She didn¡¯t particularly like sending him off to a miserable task, but that was the only real way forward.

    It was that or hide from the truth, and the true nature of things had a way of revealing themselves anyways.

    She said her goodbyes, and got the second day of preparations ready.

    On the 2nd, Mirian started by building the artifact she¡¯d decided to call the ¡®divination defeater,¡¯ and replaced her hair with the bog lion hair. She also created a dozen seeds of chaos that would take the train down to Cairnmouth then deploy themselves, with one last engine deployed to the registrar¡¯s office where it would explode that night.

    Then, she went to talk with Priest Krier.

    ¡°The sanctum is closed,¡± one of his acolytes told her as she entered.

    ¡°You will make an exception for a Prophet,¡± she said, and summoned Eclipse to her hand. The Fourth Prophet¡¯s blade glimmered in the dark halls far brighter than the dim firelight illuminating it.

    The acolyte stared at the blade, then did something between a walk and a run into the back. He reemerged with Priest Krier in tow.

    It didn¡¯t take long for Krier to compare Mirian¡¯s new sword to his tome on the holy relics. As soon as he did, he took a knee, and the acolytes who had gathered followed. ¡°Sacred One,¡± he said, prostrating himself on the floor.

    ¡°Rise,¡± Mirian said, only feeling a little bit weird about having people bow like that to her. ¡°I need the aid of the Luminates of Torrviol. First, keep my existence silent. This phase requires keeping to the shadows. Second, you must be on the lookout for two necromancers. They are using bindings and marks on their souls that resemble the blessings of the Ominian, but are twisted. If you see them, note the time and location, and I will get them from you later. They are too dangerous to engage, and unfortunately, members of the Torrviol Guard are compromised.¡±

    She paused for dramatic effect, then said, ¡°I should also warn you that the necromancer in question is impersonating Adria Gavell. The Praetorians are not to be trusted either.¡±

    There was a gasp in the room.

    ¡°What were your normal procedures for contacting Adria?¡±

    Priest Krier blinked. ¡°We always simply told the guard, and they found her for us.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll handle them. You understand your duty?¡±

    ¡°Yes, Sacred One,¡± he said.

    How remarkably different than how you first treated me, she thought, and departed, letting Eclipse dissolve back into her soul.

    She talked next with Respected Jei, who would go on to pass her message on to Professor Torres, then visited someone she owed a great deal to.

    Mirian headed over to Castner Hall.

    ¡°Professor Marva,¡± she said. ¡°May I come in?¡±

    ¡°Hmm? My office hours just ended,¡± they replied.

    ¡°I know. This isn¡¯t about classes. To be only a little dramatic, this is about the fate of the world. Lecne and Arenthia send their regards,¡± she said.

    Marva¡¯s eyes went extremely wide, and they instantly said, ¡°I don¡¯t know who those are.¡±

    Mirian grimaced. ¡°Sorry! I didn¡¯t mean to scare you. They taught me soul magic already. In a different timeline. Can I explain?¡±

    Marva still looked unsettled, and had their hand near their drawer, but nodded.

    She quickly went through the nature of the time loop, and how she¡¯d taken her illusion classes, had their help in the Battle of Torrviol, and how she¡¯d figured out they were using soul magic.

    ¡°¡­and it saved me, because without your help, I¡¯d still probably be dealing with a debilitating curse.¡±

    ¡°This is all¡­ a bit hard to believe,¡± Marva said.

    Mirian grit her teeth. ¡°Yeah, I know. How would you like me to demonstrate proof? I could do some runework in front of you. Name Lecne¡¯s hobbies and discuss Arenthia¡¯s personality. I have some active soul-bindings on me right now that are slowly turning me into a male¡ªyou could look at those. I could levitate us both around campus for a bit. Oh¡ªI could summon the Sword of the Fourth Prophet. Do you think that would do it?¡± Mirian closed her eyes. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯ve explained all this shit a thousand times to a hundred different people. Listen, I don¡¯t need you to make a decision immediately. Talk to Professor Jei; she already believes me. What I need from you is instruction on soul manipulation. My changes take place over the course of days. You know how to accelerate the physical changes so quickly it looks like you¡¯re casting an arcane illusion spell. Can we meet later to set up a time for lessons?¡±

    Marva furrowed their brow. ¡°I can do that. But¡­ I don¡¯t see how this even leads to solving the leyline problem. You should be talking to someone like Professor Viridian, or High Wizard Ferrandus.¡±

    ¡°I need lessons in soul manipulation to rapidly shift disguises so I can better thwart the other time traveler who wants to burn Torrviol to the ground and blow up the Divine Monument.¡± And so I can get rid of whatever memory curse I got, she thought, but did not say. ¡°That in turn will help with another¡­ project. And that project will help combat the leyline destabilization a lot. But more than that, if I can figure out¡­ well, I don¡¯t want to tell you everything. Sorry. As far as I know, Sulvorath and Specter never torture you for information in any given cycle, but I can¡¯t risk any part of my plan being revealed to them.¡±

    She saw a flash of fear in Marva¡¯s eyes again. I need to get better at talking to different kinds of personalities, Mirian thought. I keep over-sharing. It¡¯s just so frustrating. Am I being too honest? I don¡¯t like lying to people, especially people I consider friends.

    ¡°I can help,¡± they said. ¡°Just¡­ give me until tomorrow to figure out my schedule. Can you come by during office hours?¡±

    ¡°I can. By tomorrow, I¡¯ll be fully Micael.¡± Then she added, ¡°And, apologies if I sound frustrated or overbearing. It¡¯s been¡­ a lot, these past years. But thank you, for the help you¡¯ve already given me. Without you, I don¡¯t know what would have happened to me.¡±

    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± Marva said, somewhat subdued. They got a distant look in their eyes, and Mirian took her leave.

    Mirian finished running her errands, picking up a male school uniform from a tailor shop and some new supplies.

    That night, she used her levitation wand to sneak up to the top of Bainrose Library, using celestial magic to look for any people entering town. There was too much activity, even at a late hour, with students moving about in the woods and fishermen moving about the lake. She flew back down, using an illusion spell to move through the dorms, then joined Valen in her room. As per her usual practice, she scribed several anti-divination wards, much to the other girl¡¯s amusement.

    As she drifted off to sleep, she heard the distant sounds of the town¡¯s fire bells ringing as the registrar¡¯s office caught fire.

    Tomorrow, she anticipated Sulvorath would arrive.

 Chapter 123 - Hunting the Phantom

    In the morning, Mirian did something she hadn¡¯t done in a long, long time: she put on a Torrviol Academy uniform and headed for class.

    It brought back a surge of nostalgia.

    Which was funny, upon reflection. While she¡¯d been a student, she¡¯d constantly been stressed, tired, and panicked, in about equal measure. But now, with the gap of time, she found it was easier to reflect back on the things she¡¯d enjoyed: chatting with Lily over food. Peaceful runs in Mage¡¯s Grove. Listening to yet another fascinating lecture.

    Of course, for most people, nostalgia meant reflecting on a past that wasn¡¯t there anymore. For her, that past was still the present. She¡¯d both moved on, and hadn¡¯t moved on at all. Her classmates hadn¡¯t moved away or settled down and had families. All her old professors were still here, teaching. Even the snow would fall exactly on its prescribed day.

    The leaves will stay bare. It will always be moving to winter. A realization struck her. Will I ever see the season of spring again?

    ¡°You¡¯ve grown quiet,¡± Valen said, still walking next to her as they crossed the fields between the dorms and the Academy.

    ¡°Hmm? A lot to reflect on.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t be easy moving from Akana to here for your final year of classes,¡± Valen said, referencing her cover story. That was one thing she admired about the girl. She took her spy assignments seriously.

    ¡°Well, I always knew it was coming,¡± she replied. She¡¯d decided that her made-up parents in this scenario had been born in Baracuel, but raised her in Akana Praediar for several years before moving back. That would explain why she had no accent when she spoke Friian, and would explain away her flaws in speaking Eskanar. Hopefully, though, neither would come up.

    Valen broke off to go to her classes. Mirian headed to the Artificer¡¯s Tower. There, she¡¯d continue to work on various divination devices that she¡¯d put up all over town. The upper level classes were generally small enough that the professors would recognize Micael wasn¡¯t one of their students, so her plan was to claim she¡¯d been given special permission to continue her projects she¡¯d been purportedly assigned in Akana Praediar and then register for classes as usual on the 7th. Then she¡¯d have the short break before the next quarter started on the 12th. That was plenty of time to set up everything she needed to. Then, she could attend classes as a cover while she continued to monitor the situation.

    With any luck, she¡¯d have what she needed early in the cycle and could discard the farce. If not, that was the price she was willing to pay for good reconnaissance.

    ***

    Mirian kept expecting Sulvorath to make himself known, one way or another. Before she¡¯d fled to Cairnmouth, she¡¯d been able to tell he¡¯d arrived by the way guard patrols shifted and the spy network completely changed tactics. However, neither she nor Valen nor any of the professors she¡¯d roped into the investigation reported anything she considered unusual.

    What in the five hells is he playing at? she found herself thinking.

    She wondered if he¡¯d already arrived, and had somehow gotten wind of her plan already. She added more wards to Valen¡¯s room, and quickly expanded her divination device deployment. However, the Akanan spies continued to act like no one had intervened. And maybe no one has, she thought. Had she actually scared off Sulvorath?

    She had thought about whether or not to use Specter¡¯s necromantic curse on the other time traveler. She could get the wands easily. She already had a charged soul repository hidden under her uniform.

    It would eliminate him for a cycle. But would it eliminate him entirely?

    Unfortunately, she still had no information about his initial conditions. All she knew was that he started somewhere in Akana Praediar, probably a northern city, and had easy access to fast airships. That likely meant he was associated with their military. But there was no guarantee that putting a curse and a necromancer warning mark on him would keep him incapacitated. Perhaps that mark didn¡¯t mean the same thing to the Church of the Ominian. Perhaps they¡¯d heal him anyways. And unlike him, she didn¡¯t have easy access to airships, so she couldn¡¯t put him under the kind of time pressure he¡¯d used to initially thwart her.

    If there was any possibility he would be healed from the curse, there would be knock-on effects. She would have revealed a capability he didn¡¯t know she had, and might start investigating soul magic more deeply. If he learned soul magic, that could be much worse for her. And if he didn¡¯t feel like he had the upper hand, he would no doubt change tactics. So far, since her escape, he¡¯d been ineffectual, but from Jei¡¯s recording of his conversation, also felt convinced he had the upper hand. That was a perfectly fine equilibrium to maintain, for now.

    What she really wanted to discover was if she could find a way to eliminate him entirely. That meant when she did ambush him, there would be no recovery. There would be no learning from it. He could never be a threat to her again.

    I just need to find out if it¡¯s possible, she knew.

    In the meantime, when she wasn¡¯t getting instruction from Marva, she enjoyed going dueling again. She¡¯d sold off her drakeskin jacket and fancy blade because they were too identifiable, which was a shame, and she couldn¡¯t exactly start fighting them all with Eclipse (since that would really draw attention to her), but it was nice to unwind with something familiar she hadn¡¯t done in a long time. Though the time loop had preserved her physical fitness, it had been long enough Mirian was a bit rusty, though she quickly picked her bladework back up again.

    She saw Selesia watching from the benches and felt a pang of nostalgia. The fourth year student didn¡¯t pay her any attention, which was probably for the best. Selesia was now nearly ten years her junior, instead of just two. I keep changing, and they all stay the same. It had been frustrating at first, but now it brought a persistent melancholy, one tinged with a bitter edge.

    Mirian threw herself into her bouts so she could lose herself, then, recognizing that was the sort of unhealthy thing she and Grandpa Irabi had just talked about, committed herself to meditating each evening.

    I can¡¯t change it, so why bemoan this fate? It¡¯s let me do and see things I otherwise never would have. I have friends I¡¯d never have otherwise met, and even if the friendship is ephemeral¡ªisn¡¯t that the nature of life? I don¡¯t talk to my preparatory school friends anymore. Impermanence is part of the human experience, so what if mine is¡­ different.

    She worked on what she perceived as tangles or little vortices in her soul, the ones that flared up when she was feeling especially angry or wallowing in self-pity.

    Mostly, she kept watch on Torrian Tower, positioning herself to study in various different buildings with a view of the entrance. She knew Specter was visiting Luspire in the guise of Adria Gavell, and unlike before Sulvorath¡¯s intervention, she finally knew what she looked like. She¡¯d unfortunately probably never forget that face.

    ***

    It was the 6th of Solem, around noon, when Mirian finally caught sight of Specter. She was looking out across the plaza from the second floor window of one of the buildings to the south when she finally spotted her moving to Torrian Tower. She was habitually embracing her focus and using detect life, so when she saw a woman walking by with a much dimmer soul, it immediately drew her attention.

    That¡¯s the orichalcum at work. Specter was using illusion magic to walk around town, because of course she had been doing that. I wonder what made her so damn paranoid, Mirian wondered. Well, she did assassinate an Arcane Praetorian and is doing high treason. I suppose that¡¯s reason enough.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Likely, she was meeting with Archmage Luspire. She still didn¡¯t know what they talked about, only that Luspire would get very cross and very violent if he realized what Impostor Adria was doing.

    Mirian waited, impatiently, for an hour, waiting for Specter to reemerge. The nice thing about Torrian Tower was there was just the one entrance, so Mirian could watch it like a hawk while she continued to work on her design.

    The Holy Pages had inspired her. Not in a religious sense, but in an artificer sense. For most of the time loop, she¡¯d been stuck using a novice¡¯s spellbook that used low-potency inks for the glyphs, was inscribed using a low-powered catalyst scribing pen, and had the most mediocre of all arcane catalysts. All of that had been impacting her spellpower and mana efficiency. But what would her perfect spellbook look like?

    The pages would have to come from the holy vaults, of course. Then, there was the matter of the cover. Probably, she¡¯d use drakeskin as the base, since that would take both glyphs and runes and was extremely durable. She¡¯d have the usual glyph frameworks that prevented a spellbook from getting damaged by water or fire. Then, she thought about how she¡¯d integrate both glyphs and runes to protect it from the antimagic pulses that came at the end of a cycle. She could test them at Palendurio. I could also test them inside the antimagic fields in the Labyrinth, she mused.

    Ideally, she could use spiderweb-strands of mythril¡ªshe didn¡¯t find it likely she could make adamantium¡ªto create a lightweight binding that protected the spellbook from anything that came at it, and grant herself more magic resistance.

    Then, it would be worth it to buy a master¡¯s scribing pen and the most potent inks she could find.

    The last thing to consider was what kind of catalyst she could use. Generally, more powerful myrvites had more efficient catalysts, though that wasn¡¯t always the case. Maybe I could kill an ice wyrm up in the frostlands. That was about as powerful a myrvite as they came. Or is there something else out there, perhaps deep in the Labyrinth?

    Her design ideas were interrupted by Specter emerging from Torrian Tower.

    Mirian quickly stuffed her notebook in her satchel and scrambled down the stairs, then calmly exited the building, keeping hold of her focus so she could watch Specter even through the walls. Her faint soul energy was hard to focus on, but at least it was different from all the other people moving around the Academy.

    Once she caught sight of her again, moving east, Mirian started tailing her.

    Specter casually changed her disguise spell in little increments, every time she passed through a spot of shade or rounded a corner where no one was looking. Her hair went from blonde to a slightly darker shade, so that after five small transformations, it looked completely different, but there was never a single change that was so dramatic as to raise eyebrows of people passing by. She did the same subtle alterations for her illusionary clothing so that by the time Specter had walked three blocks, her skirt had changed color, then design, then color again, while her coat shifted as well. Her timing, plus the way that she wove through any crowds, would have made her a nightmare to track if Mirian couldn¡¯t use detect life to isolate her.

    Specter¡¯s path took her north, then back around south through the market forum, then slightly west. There, she dipped into a side door in an alley.

    Mirian watched through the wall as her soul-glow moved to the next room, then hit a staircase and started descending. She kept part of her attention on Specter¡¯s progress while she analyzed the door. It used a glyphkey lock, but she disabled the alarm ward, leaving the lock itself vulnerable to being overpowered by raw magnetic force. Once the door was open, she quickly cast a divination spell that would locate common magical traps or alarms, then scanned the room for anything like the pit trap or other defenses she¡¯d seen the Akanan spies set up. Seeing nothing, she cast muffle sound on her feet, then hide in shadows as she closed the door behind her. The camouflage spell would keep her well hidden in the Torrviol Underground, while her orichalcum would do just as well at defeating any spells Specter was using to monitor her back.

    The second door she encountered was a false wall, but reveal iron did the trick it usually did and led her to the brick she needed to push to activate the mechanism. She cast another muffle sound on the door, but needn¡¯t have bothered; the hinges were well-oiled. Then she walked down the steps, her spell muffling not just her feet, but the vibrations they sent into the surrounding stone. She added darkvision to her actively channeled spells.

    Once in the tunnels, she caught a glimpse of Specter down one of the longer halls. She¡¯d dismissed her illusion, and was strolling quite casually through what was no-doubt her usual route. She was likely using some sort of light-modifying spell too, as she had no light spell active. With Sulvorath having yet to arrive, she clearly wasn¡¯t on the lookout for an operational breach. Nor would she know the assassination attempt on Jei had failed yet.

    Mirian relaxed slightly once she recognized the section of the underground they were in. She¡¯d helped run strike missions through it dozens of times. There¡¯s where we usually established a defensive cordon, she thought, as she passed a section where three tunnels converged. And that was the route we used for the counter-attack to encircle the trapped underground forces, she remembered as she passed a buried hall.

    As they continued east through the tunnels, Mirian mentally mapped where they were beneath the city. Past the forum. Getting close to Torrviol Lake.

    Specter glanced back before she rounded another corner, and Mirian froze. Her hide in shadows spell covered most infrared light as well, so she trusted in it to keep her hidden. When the woman continued on, so did Mirian.

    She¡¯d rarely gone this far east, since the battle never came out this way, and many of the tunnels were flooded beyond use. Specter stopped by an unremarkable brick wall, then looked around again, casting what Mirian guessed was a divination spell. Mirian stayed still, watching her from the shadows.

    Apparently satisfied, Specter tapped three bricks in the wall in sequence, and the wall opened. Not an ancient door. A recent addition, she realized. Of course it had never shown up on the old maps.

    Mirian waited for her to head inside, then waited a moment longer before approaching.

    Detect life revealed no other people in Specter¡¯s lair. Reveal iron showed that the mechanism wasn¡¯t using steel, so her earlier sweeps for secret passages had never picked it up. Instead, it was using a glyph triggering mechanism to activate an attached spell engine that cast a simple move object spell on the door, but anti-divination wards meant the usual methods of detection also would have missed those.

    She went through several divination spells, checking for both glyphs and runes. There was a rune-mark detector in the floor beyond that seemed standard fare for the Akanans. Mirian used her stored soul energy to disable it through the wall. Satisfied, Mirian began her preparations.

    She cast shield spells against heat, magnetism, electricity, and kinetics, layering them in concentric spheres. The strain of maintaining four different shielding spells, muffle object, and her camouflage spell was intense, but that, combined with her orichalcum, would be plenty of defense. She opened up her spellbook to greater lightning, enhanced for paralysis and less lethality and prepared her charged soul repositories, ready to use the runes she¡¯d need to pierce Specter¡¯s own enhanced spell resistance.

    Mirian pressed the bricks in order, and the door softly rumbled open again.

    Specter¡¯s quarters were built in an ancient ruined building that had been repaired and renovated with tasteful hanging tapestries and functional but nice wooden furniture. The stone floors were clean of dust and grime, and Specter had even taken off her boots by the front entrance. It wasn¡¯t particularly spacious, but she had several rooms to herself, including a bedroom, meeting room and office.

    It was the office that she was in. Specter looked up, perhaps shocked to see a shadow silently approaching, but Mirian never gave her a chance. She cast a greater lightning bolt, coated with soul energy and enhanced for paralysis, and the woman let out a truncated scream before she collapsed to the ground, muscles seizing. Mirian dismissed the camouflage and sound muffling spells, then moved quickly to Specter. She flipped her over onto her stomach, using a knee to press down on her back. She unclasped the chain holding the imposter¡¯s spellbook, then kicked it across the room. Mirian then quickly took her wands off her. She then pulled the orichalcum torque off her, as well as the two hair pins. There was no time to adjust their resonance, so she threw them across the room as well, hissing at the burning sensation that came from touching an object attuned to another¡¯s soul.

    She then used a pair of shackles to secure the other woman¡¯s wrists, then continued to search her for any weapons. She pulled a dagger from Specter¡¯s belt, and another smaller dagger from a sheath that her boots would have hidden if she hadn¡¯t just taken them off. Satisfied, she took her knee off and stepped back, finally dismissing her defensive shields.

    Specter groaned.

    ¡°Got you,¡± Mirian said.

    ======

    The Years of Apocalypse is currently only available on RoyalRoad or Patreon. If you''re reading this anywhere else, it''s been stolen!

 Glossary of Characters and Places (Version 1)

    Celestial Bodies

    Divir - The small moon, the one that keeps falling down (skill issue).

    Enteria - The planet

    Luamin - The big moon

    Elder Gods

    Altrukyst - The traveler, the star-bearer, the void. Associated with doors, travel, and beacons. Statues of them have changed over time, but most involve him having a hollow chest with a chain linking one side to the other. They usually hold a lantern, and if in a painting, are usually standing in front of a door.

    Carkavakom - The destroyer, the law, the terror. They are depicted as humanoid column of flame locked behind a cage, with a sword in one hand and eyes embedded in Their other hand. They wear a cloak of skulls and screaming faces. Carkavakom is associated with the brutality of war and the punishments that keep law and order in society.

    Eintocarst - The enigma, the forerunner, the mathematician. He is depicted with myrvites and monsters by his side, and is associated with the Labyrinth and human progress. Industrial factories in Baracuel often have a shrine to him.

    Ominian - The guardian, the believer, the herald. Often depicted with knives sticking into them, a crown of burning laurels, and and an open chest showing their heart. In paintings, they often sit on a throne. The Akanans hold the Ominian as the only true divinity, and most Persamans hold the Ominian as the only prophet of the true god. The Luminates simply believe the Ominian is the first and most important of the Elder Gods.

    Shiamagoth - The protector, the watcher, the crown. Associated with preparations for war and defensive wars, protecting the innocent, and ecology. Depicted with a floating aegis, a burning scepter, and a crown of floating eyes. He is often quoted as saying, ¡°Power is only righteous if it protects life.¡±

    Xylatarvia - The breath, the envoy, the arcane, the hearth. Often depicted traveling on a boat made of vines through an ocean in the stars. Her hair is shown as plants, and skin as bark, and her statues have her holding out a scroll full of strange symbols. Prayers for life and knowledge are directed toward her.

    Yiaverunan - The bearer of light, the clockmaker, the cosmic. She is associated with light, time, and magic. Depicted with four arms, holding a timepiece, a star, a hammer, and a wheel. Her statues often have a blindfold.

    Zomalator - The renewer, the turncoat, the redeemed, the forgiven. They are depicted as a pale corpse full of red growths that resemble blood vessels and tangled briars, and a hollow face full of needles. The Luminate Order does not acknowledge their divinity, and sects that worship Zomalator are considered heretics.

    Countries

    Akana Praediar - A large country that dominates the western continent. There used to be a bunch of countries there, but a few hundred years ago, Baracueli colonists took over, then broke away from Baracuel and formed their own country. Recently, they¡¯ve had a magitech boom and are now the richest and most powerful of the nation states.

    Baracuel - Where our story begins. A large country, on the north portion of the eastern continent. It used to be a bunch of separate countries, but after the Unification War it became¡­ well, you get the idea.

    Florin Principality - On the southwest tip of Baracuel, and technically independent. This is where the famous Florinian ingots are stamped. Florin is still an important financial and trade city full of great wealth.

    Persama - A large region. It used to be one big empire ruled by a triumvirate, but it¡¯s been broken up into various complex principalities, oligarchies, and areas occupied by Akana Praediar and Baracuel. Rich in fossilized myrvite, the stuff that makes spell engines work. Lots of vast desert areas.

    Tlaxhuaco - The country of the Tlaxhuacan people. A large island south of Akana Praediar. Contains both temperate and tropical rainforest zones.

    Zhighua - Southeast of Persama. Somewhat tropical.

    Cities / Places

    Alkazaria - Second capital of Baracuel, on the eastern side of the country. Large city.

    Arborholm - Akana Praediar city. North of the other major cities.

    Arriroba - Mirian¡¯s home village. Found in east Baracuel, north of Madinahr. No train connects to it.

    Cairnmouth - Large coastal city in Baracuel, south of Torrviol and north of Palendurio. Straddles the Cairn River.

    Frostland¡¯s Gate - Very small town at the northern edge of Baracuel, bordering¡ªyou guessed it¡ªthe frostlands. Has an entrance to the Labyrinth.

    Madinahr - Baracuel city, east of Alkazaria and south of Mirian¡¯s hometown.

    Mercanton - Akana Praediar city.

    Palendurio - First capital of Baracuel, on the western side of the country. The Magrio River passes through it.

    Second Cairn - Town famous for myrvite hunting. Upriver from Cairnmouth. Not to be confused with the hill in Cairnmouth with the same name.

    Torrviol - Home of the Torrviol Academy; where Mirian is living when this all begins.

    Vadriach - Capital of Akana Praediar. Across the Rift Sea from Baracuel.

    People

    Grouped by city and then alphabetically, with cities listed in the order they were explored in the story. Professors (and generals) are listed by last name first because that¡¯s how you usually see them in the story.

    Torrviol

    Ada - Magistrate of Torrviol. One of the few non-corrupt officials.

    Adria Gavell - An Arcane Praetorian who was assassinated some years ago, but had her identity stolen by code name ¡°Specter.¡± Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Atger, Jurrian - Professor of spell engines. Not a major character.

    Ayland - Akanan spy in Torrviol. This is the one who Mirian catches infiltrating the Myrvite Studies building early on.

    Bertrus - Guard of Torrviol. Usually in the plaza. Former classmate of Professor Seneca.

    Calisto Ennecus - 6th year student. Frienemy of Nicolus (they used to date). Family is heavily involved in myrvite hunting and harvesting resources from the Labyrinth.

    Cassius, Eskier - Professor of combat magic. Good at riding eximontar and magical fights.

    Daith Whellian - 5th year student on the combat mage track. Takes several classes with Mirian later in the cycles. Sister is Betella Whellian, a mercenary battlemage in Palendurio.

    Eld, Mician - Professor of enchantments. Harsh teacher, best known for being a jerk in the early chapters.

    Ethwarn - A prominent Torrviol banker and investor. In several cycles, he was elected Mayor to replace Wolden, and did a decent job. Technically a knight, so he can write ¡°Sire¡± on formal letters.

    Ferrandus, Roland - High wizard and in charge of the Divine Monument project.

    Gerard - Akanan spy. The one that Mirian sees first on the roof of the alchemistry building.

    Holvatti, Marcel - Professor of arcane geology. Knows quite a bit about fossilized myrvite and rocks.

    Liamar - Fifth year student, and master duelist.

    Lily Berton - Mirian¡¯s roommate. Blind, but wears enchanted glasses that let her see. Sister: Beatrice, up in Frostland¡¯s Gate.

    Luspire, Medius - Archmage of Torrviol Academy.

    Marovim - Younger cleric of the Luminates. Speaks Cuelin better than Friian. Primarily works as a healer. Turned in Mirian when she had a curse-mark.

    Marva, Ghellia - Professor of Illusions, and likes to change their appearance drastically each day.

    Moliner - Elected Captain of the Torrviol Militia alongside Cassius in several cycles. A veteran of several conflicts in Persama and was a low-ranking officer before joining civilian life.

    Nicolus Sacristar - 6th year student. Member of the Sacristar noble family, an old Baracueli family. Lately, they¡¯ve fallen out of power. Early ally of Mirian. Uncle is over in Akana Praediar. Dad is down in Palendrio.

    Nurea March - Knight, and guardian of Nicolus. Family serves the Sacristar noble house still. Stern and only a bit paranoid.

    Idras Norton - One of the more experienced Akanan spies in Torrviol, though he¡¯s more loyal to Akana Praediar than the actual operation, which has some rather suspicious things going on.

    Ingrid Herrera - Grandmaster craftswoman and in charge of the crafting stations of the Torrviol Academy. In several cycles, helped tutor Mirian on precision artifice, metalworking, and woodwork.

    Jei, Song - Professor of arcane mathematics and early ally of Mirian. From Zhighua. Sister¡¯s name is Bao. Secretly works on the Divine Monument project.

    Krier - Head Priest of the Luminate temple in Torrviol.

    Platus - Fellow student, best known for accidentally blowing himself up in the alchemistry lab early on.

    Runer - Professor of combat magic. Not a major character.

    Selesia - Akanan transfer student with Takoa heritage. Briefly dated Mirian in the early cycles.

    Seneca, Sefora - Professor of alchemistry and chemistry.

    Specter - The code name of a Baracueli agent turned Akanan double-agent. Leader of the Torrviol cell of spies. Usually disguised as Adria Gavell, who she killed. Her real name is (spoilers for chapter 124) Nikoline Brunn. Who?

    Timmon - Akanan spy in Torrviol, acting as Mayor Wolden¡¯s secretary.

    Torres, Iliyia - Professor of artifice. A prodigy in her field. Connections to the military and secretly works on the Divine Monument.

    Valen - A 6th year student. Rude to Mirian, but it turned out that was because she liked her. Her dad was a Department of Public Security spy and, it turns out, wasn¡¯t the best at teaching healthy relationships.

    Viridian, Selkus - Professor of myrvite ecology. Older man with a gray beard. Master botanist and arcanist. Easily changes his behavior during a cycle.

    Wolden - Mayor of Torrviol. Corrupt, and has been taking bribes from the Akanan spies. Those spies also monitor him in his own office.

    Xipuatl Yanez - 6th year student. From the Yanez noble house, which has both Tlaxhuacan and Baracueli heritage. Trained in some celestial plant magic. Friend of Nicolus, and early ally of Mirian.

    In/From Other Places But You Should Probably Know Them

    Alexus Sacristar - Uncle of Nicolus. Currently in Akana Praediar.

    Atroxcidi - Legendary necromancer that Mirian heard about from one of her classmates. Fought in the Unification War. Ahh, that was so long ago. He probably won¡¯t come up later. Don¡¯t worry about it.

    Cearsia, Emera - Marshal of the Akana Praediar and nearly an archmage. Commands the airships Might of Liberty (her flagship) and Republic¡¯s Justice, two airship dreadnoughts. Frenemies with Archmage Luspire.

    Zayd Castrella - Mirian¡¯s younger brother. Extremely cute. Whereabouts currently unknown.

    Cairnmouth

    Arenthia - High priestess of the Cult of Zomalator. Captured before the cycle begins and slated for execution.

    Hanaran - General of the Baracueli Fort Aegrimere Division. Brings her division up north when Akana Praediar invades.

    Lecne - Priest and prominent member of the small Cult of Zomalator, a heretical split from the Luminate Order.

    Maruce - Cult of Zomalator acolyte.

    Numo - Syndicate criminal and arcanist who specializes in document forgeries.

    Pelnu - Cult of Zomalator acolyte. The temple cook.

    Ravatha - Syndicate criminal. Sire Nurea¡¯s contact among the Cairnmouth Syndicate.

    Sethra - Cult of Zomalator acolyte.

    Tlati - Cult of Zomalator acolyte.

    Willhelm Marhurst - Governor of Cairnmouth.

    Frostland¡¯s Gate

    Aelius - Leader of the Ennecus Group Expedition into the Labyrinth.

    Beatrice Berton - Lily¡¯s sister. An arcanist (combat mage) and researcher of the Labyrinth. Part of the Torrviol Academy¡¯s Expeditionary Group.

    Cediri - Part of the Torrviol Academy¡¯s Expeditionary Group into the Labyrinth. Also a member of the Great Cairn Academy. Also a Syndicate smuggler.

    Elsadorra - Appraiser and independent researcher. Knows quite a bit about the Labyrinth and myrvites.

    Gomaer - One of Aelius¡¯s heavy fighters.

    Grimald - Part of the Torrviol Academy¡¯s Expeditionary Group into the Labyrinth. Heavy fighter.

    Palendurio

    Arturus Castill - Director of Operations in the Department of Public Security (Deeps).

    Aurelius Palamas - King of Baracuel, though since Baracuel is a republic now, it¡¯s officially a ceremonial position. As patriarch of the Palamas family, though, has quite a bit of wealth and sway. Brother to Quintus, the governor.

    Betella Whellian - Sister of Daith, a student in Torrviol. Caught up in the attack on the false-flag attack on the Akanan Embassy that helps kick-start the war.

    Decian Corrmier - Leader of the Pure Blade mercenaries. Brother of Kallin Corrmier.

    Celine - Journalist and editor of the Magrio Broadsheet, a Palendurio paper.

    Everad - Luminate Guard, stationed in front of the holy vaults of the Grand Sanctum.

    Hamel - Acolyte in the Grand Sanctum, and former accountant.

    Kallin Corrmier - High ranking General of the Baracueli Army, stationed in Palendurio. Brother to Decian Corrmier.

    Kathera - Akanan embassy worker.

    Lancel - Bishop of the Luminate Order, stationed in the Grand Sanctum.

    Marduke Sacristar - Nicolus¡¯s dad, and head of the Sacristar family, an older noble family that has declined in power over the decades.

    Oculo Stellnat - Pontiff of the Luminate Order. Birth name is Alberin Allard. Lives in Charlem Palace, which is on the hill above the Grand Sanctum.

    Quintus Palamas - Lord Governor. Prominent member of the Palamas noble family, and brother to the king.

    Treyul - Priest of the Luminate Order, also in the Grand Sanctum.

    Valentar - Bishop of the Luminate Order stationed in the Grand Sanctum.

    Second Cairn

    Most people aren¡¯t here yet, so gonna leave this blank for now.

    Alkazaria

    Oh yeah, we¡¯ll get here eventually.

    The Noble Families of Baracuel

    Technically, after the Unification War and founding of the Republic of Baracuel, all the noble houses were stripped of official privileges and titles, with the exceptions of ¡°king¡± and ¡°lord governor.¡± However, these families are still powerful, and have high connections throughout the government. You¡¯ll generally know if someone is part of these families because this will be their last name.

    Allard - A relatively powerful noble family. Invested heavily in solver-mining, banking, and glyph-security technology.

    Bardas - Another old house, mostly in west Baracuel. They invest heavily in real estate, farming, and monster hunting preserves.

    Corrmier - A family with a strong military tradition.

    Palamas - One of the oldest and most powerful of the noble families. Mostly in west Baracuel. They are most heavily invested in spell engine production and fossilized myrvite extraction.

    Sacristar - An older house, but one on the decline. It has shrunk drastically in the past few decades. This is Nicolus¡¯s family.

    Yanez - A family with old ties to both Baracuel and Tlaxhuaco. This is Xipuatl¡¯s famly.

    Big Spoilers! Probably don¡¯t click unless you¡¯re done with chapter 85 at the very least. Spoiler for chapter 127 as well, though fairly minor.

    Other Time Travelers

    Southern Time Traveler - Persaman. Leader of the Dawn¡¯s Peace, a rebel group inside north Persama.

    Sulvorath - The first other time traveler Mirian encounters. Akanan, and obsessed with political power. Believes the time loop is a grand contest he is fated to win. Real name is Troytin.

 Chapter 124 - A Chance At Redemption

    With Mirian¡¯s knee off her back, Specter wriggled away from her until she ran into the nearby wall. She¡¯d recovered from the paralysis relatively quickly. ¡°Who the¡ªwhat the fucking¡ª!¡± she gasped. ¡°I am an Arcane Praetorian! Release me at once, or you¡¯ll find the full force of the Baracueli government turned¡ª¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t bother lying,¡± Mirian said calmly. ¡°I already know you killed Adria Gavell. Without your orichalcum, I can see the soul bindings you set on yourself so that you¡¯d look like her. I already know you¡¯ve committed high treason several times, and that you¡¯re part of Operation Zenith. I already know you¡¯re a capable necromancer, but I also know the actual runic devices you¡¯d need for any of your curses are firmly secured in your locked room in the Akanan spy¡¯s headquarters near the train station. I already know Nathanial Hache is playing Captain of the Torrviol Guard under your watch, and the plot to secure the Divine Monument. I even know about General Corrmier¡¯s impending coup in Palendurio and the planned assassination of the Akanan Prime Minister.¡±

    Specter¡¯s eyes had grown wide, but she quickly masked her emotions and shut her mouth. That was, Mirian thought, one of the reasons she¡¯d been so hard to find. When she was outmatched, she hid and went silent. She didn¡¯t strike unless she was sure of victory.

    She didn¡¯t even ask ¡®what do you want from me.¡¯ She used an interrogator¡¯s tactics of keeping silent and learning as much as she could, and knew to reveal nothing if she didn¡¯t have to.

    ¡°It all would have worked, too, except for one thing: the Ominian started a time loop. So I have as many tries as I need to get you to talk.¡± Mirian paused, and thought of Arenthia, and the lessons of Zomalator. ¡°This is another blessing for you. You can¡¯t take back the murder of Adria, but the worst of the crimes you¡¯ve committed haven¡¯t actually happened yet. You have an opportunity for a kind of redemption that few are ever offered. You can help stop what you helped plan.¡±

    Specter peered up at her, keeping her face still, though Mirian could see her jaw grinding.

    ¡°I even know what you¡¯re thinking right now: ¡®why didn¡¯t the Ominian choose me?¡¯ Probably because you¡¯re an evil bitch,¡± Mirian said. She thought of Lecne, Pelnu, Tlati, Sethra, and Maruce, those wonderful heretic priests who had saved her life and taught her so much. Each of them had done horrible things. But then they had dedicated themselves to a new path. She said to Specter, ¡°But you can make amends.

    ¡°You see, all this stupid political shit doesn¡¯t end up mattering, because there¡¯s a catastrophic leyline collapse and then the Divir moon falls down and wipes out all life on Enteria. I know you already know about the arcane eruptions in Akana that are a prelude to the main cataclysm I¡¯m talking about, and how they¡¯re getting worse. All the plans you made just hurry things along. When Marshal Cearsia successfully takes Torrviol, though, she decides to destroy the Divine Monument, and armageddon comes early. So ultimately, what I would like is for people like you to help stop the coups, assassinations, and invasion, because if the peoples of Baracuel and Akana Praediar can work together, we¡¯ve got a better chance of actually stopping this. Help me, make amends, and I¡¯ll spare you.¡±

    Specter clenched her jaw, then said, ¡°Why should I believe you?¡±

    Mirian conjured Eclipse from thin air, then brought the rapier¡¯s tip down to slash Specter¡¯s shoulder; a light wound, but one that would show that what she had was no illusion. ¡°This is the Sword of the Fourth Prophet, now soulbound to me.¡±

    The woman¡¯s eyes went wide again, then she steadied herself. It was a remarkable display of control. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± she said.

    Mirian closed her eyes and sighed. ¡°Look, I know you know all these anti-interrogation techniques. Given enough loops, I¡¯m sure I could draw out what you know. But I¡¯m not going to. It¡¯s not worth my time. If I decide you¡¯re not worth it, I¡¯m just going to kill you. Every. Single. Loop. So that you can¡¯t hurt anyone. I did that to Agent Gerard, pulling him off the Alchemistry Building roof for dozens of cycles. I already know how to break the cipher for the orders he was carrying.¡± Mirian quickly listed off the math formula of letter shifts the Akanans had used, then continued.

    ¡°I know how to use the Fort Aegrimere Garrison to defeat the Akanan army and take down the two dreadnought airships. Do you see this school uniform I¡¯m wearing? It¡¯s not a disguise. I was a regular student before this all started. I¡¯m giving you a chance, which is more than you ever gave me.¡±

    Specter remained silent.

    Mirian sighed again. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a bit to think about it.¡±

    She went over to Specter¡¯s orichalcum, and began to change its resonance to match her own soul, keeping her eyes locked on the other woman. Then she picked up her spellbook, paging through it for anything innovative. The shifting illusionary disguise spell she¡¯d been using while walking through town was neat. It segmented the illusion into three major parts, making it so that changing one aspect of the disguise didn¡¯t affect the other two sections, which made it far more mana efficient than doing the same thing with major illusionary disguise. There were the usual combat spells, and there were several torture spells, which made Mirian¡¯s stomach turn.

    Nothing else stood out, so after ripping out the page she wanted, she levitated the spellbook in the air and incinerated it, using an inverted fire shield to keep the intense energy release from breaking so many glyphs from causing an explosion. Only the catalyst was left over, which she blew the ash off then pocketed. She started rooting around in Specter¡¯s desk next, using magnetic force to break open any of the mundane locks for the drawers.

    Most of the documents were, of course, in Eskinar, which took Mirian longer to read, but they also weren¡¯t using a cipher. Specter clearly hadn¡¯t thought anyone would discover her little hideout here. And to be fair, no one had, even in dozens of cycles where every other part of the Akanan spy operation had been dismantled.

    As she read, she noticed Specter edging closer, so she casually stuck out her rapier near her leg. ¡°This is ridiculously sharp,¡± Mirian said, then jabbed it into the stone floor to demonstrate. When the spiderweb cracks spread out from the hole she¡¯d just made, the woman froze, then edged backward.

    There were several networking diagrams that showed the social relations of targets in Torrviol, as well as extensive dossiers on high ranking people. Unlike the ones in the spy¡¯s headquarters, these extended to people in Cairnmouth and Palendurio. She recognized Ravatha¡¯s name, as well as one of the Syndicate brokers she¡¯d purchased smuggled myrvites from in Palendurio. Interesting. They have leverage over the Syndicate, but clearly not as much control as they think they have. None of them ever sold me out.

    She also recognized Marduke Sacristar. Her heart dropped as she read the file. ¡®Edge member of operation,¡¯ she read. He¡¯s considered unreliable, but a tentative ally. Fuck. Poor Nicolas. So that¡¯s how his dad intends to reestablish the Sacristar family as a great power in Baracuel.

    Then there was the file on Archmage Luspire. It detailed his character flaws, and his strong desire to join Vadriach University, where his name might be lauded among the best of the best, where the most advanced, cutting-edge research was being done. She was leveraging that career move against him. Luspire would be willing to suppress all the break-ins and deaths while ¡®Adria¡¯ ¡®investigated¡¯ so that his name would stay untarnished. Luspire felt if he could hold out another month, he was sure to get the position in Vadriach. And they keep dangling it in front of him, but never give it to him, she knew.

    There was another interesting note. ¡®Worked with Emera Cearsia on airship project to gain Akanan favor. Possible former lovers. If so, departed on poor terms.¡¯

    That was interesting. Did he help work on the two dreadnought airship engines? He¡¯d never revealed that information when he¡¯d been mentoring Mirian, but then again, Luspire never liked to mention anything that might make him look bad, and angered quickly if it looked like something would shine on him in a less than flattering light. Also the perfect thing to deliver to Luspire to make sure he stays pissed at the Akanans. And, there was a quick reference sheet naming dozens of the Akanan spies. Sloppy, she thought, but then again, Specter was dealing with a ridiculously complex operation. It made sense she needed some way to keep track of it all. She added both those documents to her satchel.

    Specter had been crafting several letters that she¡¯d signed off as other people. Pretending to be the other Deeps agents she killed. And not just to the head of their cell in Palendurio. The woman had prepared letters to the spouses of the murdered agents. Another letter to the son of a dead agent. She was going to send a love letter signed as Adria to a partner in Palendurio, the pages full of apparently heartfelt declarations and regret for how much she wished she could take time off to go see him. Mirian felt visceral disgust. ¡°You really are monstrous,¡± she said.

    There was a lot of information to go through. There were several encrypted communications that Mirian stuffed in her satchel to decode later. Plenty of other info she¡¯d already learned from ransacking the headquarters in previous cycles. There was a document that revealed something she¡¯d been looking to learn for some time. It was addressed to Nikoline Brunn, codename Specter. Nikoline, she thought. Now I know who to name when I eventually get around to investigating the Deeps, she thought.

    ¡°I¡¯ll help you,¡± Specter said suddenly.

    Mirian raised an eyebrow. ¡°Great. First question. I know there¡¯s an Academy professor being targeted for assassination today. Who¡¯s the target?¡±

    ¡°Professor Torres,¡± Specter said without hesitation.

    Mirian gave her a disappointing glare. ¡°I know that¡¯s a lie,¡± she said.

    ¡°Did¡­ it go awry? Maybe they got the wrong person.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°You target Professor Jei, and I know it¡¯s not a mistake because you get the Torrviol Guard to break into her private residence if she escapes the attempt on the way to the Monument. I¡¯ll give you another try. Who are the main infiltrators running sabotage missions in the Academy?¡±

    ¡°Gerard and Ayland,¡± Specter said.

    ¡°Lie of omission. You missed Idras. Who¡¯s your contact for Operation Zenith in the Department of Public Security?¡±

    Specter hesitated briefly, then said, ¡°Operation Zenith is confined to the Akanans.¡±

    ¡°You have a contact for the conspiracy in the Deeps,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Who is it?¡±

    ¡°Sayco Palamas,¡± she said. Mirian didn¡¯t know what position he had in the Deeps, but it wasn¡¯t one of the directors, and she already knew that the operation targeted the Palamas family.

    Mirian shook her head. ¡°Liar. I already know it¡¯s Arturus Castill.¡± She looked at Nikoline, lying prone still. ¡°I don¡¯t understand you,¡± she said. ¡°When you were interrogating me, you told me some crap about ¡®human nature¡¯ and ¡®power.¡¯ It sounded stupid, and I wondered how someone as smart as you could believe in something so¡­ horrible. Any comments on your motivations?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve told you the truth,¡± she said. ¡°You can check¡ª¡±

    ¡°I already did. That¡¯s the thing about time travel. I can check things that haven¡¯t happened yet. I can witness things that already did.¡±

    Nikoline didn¡¯t seem to know what to say to that, but Mirian could see her brain making calculations. ¡°I serve God and country,¡± she said at last. ¡°That¡¯s all I¡¯ve ever wanted.¡±

    ¡°No you don¡¯t!¡± Mirian exclaimed. ¡°You¡¯re a double agent who killed several agents of the Crown! You killed your whole cell! You¡¯re not even loyal to your new country because you¡¯re part of a conspiracy that assassinates your own head of state! You¡ª¡± Mirian took a deep breath. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll never understand you. And I guess I just have to accept that. Arenthia did warn me. Redemption isn¡¯t for everyone. You have to want it. And I guess you¡­ don¡¯t.¡±

    She plunged Eclipse through Specter¡¯s heart.

    The woman seemed surprised. She had this shocked look, like she couldn¡¯t believe Mirian had actually stabbed her. Then she went limp, her blood pooling on the floor.

    Mirian searched her body one last time, finding her divine focus hidden on an ankle bracelet. It was the same silver-gray with veins of green minerals that she¡¯d seen on every priest except for the heretics. Underneath Nikoline¡¯s shirt, she found a poison pill sewn into the collar. The agent could have bent down and taken it at any point, but she hadn¡¯t.

    She spent the next few hours scouring the rest of the hideout. Most of it was dedicated to day-to-day living, though there was, of course, the nasty little interrogation room she¡¯d brought Mirian to twice. Lastly, she discovered an exit behind a false wall in the bedroom closet that led to a ladder. That ladder in turn led to a hidden hatch in a brush-covered area overlooking the lake. Ah. So here¡¯s how she gets to the lake when she escapes by boat, Mirian thought. The deadbolts that secured the hatch were very thick, and the lock for opening it was only on the underside, but that would be easily overcome with magic.

    She had all the papers she wanted, and if she needed them again, now she knew where to find them. Mirian set the place on fire, then closed the hatch behind her.

    ***

    The next morning, Mirian went to registration. ¡°I¡¯m a transfer student from Akana Praediar,¡± she said. ¡°Here¡¯s my transcript, and tuition for the quarter,¡± she said. When she¡¯d broken into the registrar¡¯s office in previous cycles, she¡¯d seen what Akanan university transcripts looked like.

    ¡°Micael Nezzar? That¡¯s not a very Akanan name,¡± the woman at the counter said, glancing over the paperwork.

    ¡°It¡¯s not. My family was from east Baracuel originally. It¡¯s good to be back.¡±

    ¡°I see. Ah, we don¡¯t have your record of acceptance because of the¡­ incident. So we¡¯re allowing students to pick classes, but credit for completion may be delayed or rescinded, depending on information we receive from your previous institution or information we recover.¡± She smiled. ¡°But for now, everything is in order. That spell engine over there can show you if a class is full, you just need to select it using the illusionary interface¡ª¡±

    Mirian smiled. ¡°We have those in Akana too.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Of course,¡± the woman said. ¡°That¡¯s where they were invented, after all!¡±

    Mirian went off to pick her classes. It was the strangest thing, coming back after all this time.

    ***

    When Jei found her, Mirian was trying to calculate how much soul energy her hypothetical spellbook cover would need. The answer was ¡®a lot,¡¯ and most of the energy would have to come from strong-souled myrvites like bog lions or greater wyverns. But assuming she could find any relicarium in the Vaults, she needed to maximize the benefit.

    ¡°Something has changed,¡± Respected Jei said. ¡°Luspire has requested our attendance at a welcoming ceremony in the plaza. Ferrandus said it had something to do with a new research agreement with Vadriach University.¡±

    Mirian raised an eyebrow.

    Jei said, ¡°It is very strange seeing your facial expressions on a stranger¡¯s face.¡±

    ¡°Sorry. It has to be this way. Are students allowed to attend?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Several of the apprentices are participating. Novices are invited to watch.¡± She paused. ¡°How does this affect¡­ my fate?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know yet. With Specter gone, they may stop trying. I wish¡­¡± Mirian grimaced. ¡°But it doesn¡¯t matter what I wish.¡±

    Jei¡¯s mouth was a thin line. ¡°It is a hard thing you ask of me. I do not like to live with a sword dangling over my head. I try to remember that your path is no easier, and much longer.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye on the ceremony from one of the buildings south of the plaza.¡± She paused, closing her notebook. ¡°Vadriach. So they must be arriving by airship. Sulvorath¡¯s changed tactics. But if he doesn¡¯t park his airship in the forest and destroy the engine¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell Iliyia to see if she can examine it.¡±

    ¡°Perfect.¡± Torres would be the best person to look at any artifice.

    ¡°May I tell her your new identity?¡± Jei asked.

    ¡°I¡¯d prefer not. I¡¯m unhappy enough as it is with how many people know it. When¡¯s the ceremony?¡±

    ¡°Two hours.¡±

    Miran¡¯s chair scraped the floor as she shoved it back. ¡°Shit! Do you have access to¡ªactually, I already know. There¡¯s several divination checks I want to do on¡­ no. I shouldn¡¯t. I don¡¯t know what kind of divination they¡¯ll be running. If he detects it¡­ hm. I hate it. I hate not having enough information.¡±

    ¡°I know the feeling,¡± Jei said. ¡°Iliyia is well networked with the other professors. I can also talk to Svani and Sefora. We will get you information.¡±

    ¡°Does Professor Marva know?¡±

    ¡°Most take advantage of the break to visit Cairnmouth or take a day on the lake. The reception may be poorly attended, which Luspire should well know. I do not know.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough. I can try and find them. They might be close enough to get a good look at any celestial magic.¡±

    Mirian was, perhaps, one of five people in town who could actually find Professor Marva, and the other four were all priests. They hadn¡¯t been in their office, or anywhere in Castner Hall. Instead, they were lounging on a boat on the lake, eyes closed, leaning back on several cushions while blatantly ignoring a fishing rod.

    They¡¯d changed their form since the morning, and were now a more masculine build with a dark mop of hair and a scruffy looking outfit. They blended right in with the fishers, except anyone seriously fishing was actually paying some attention to the water.

    Mirian gently started pulling the boat ashore, feeling mildly guilty about it.

    Marva realized their boat was heading to shore and sat up, only to find Mirian giving them a friendly wave from shore. They sighed.

    ¡°There¡¯s going to be an airship arriving with Vadriach researchers. Some deal Luspire just made. It¡¯s a change in the timeline, so Sulvorath is changing tactics. I need information on what he¡¯s trying to do so I can thwart it,¡± Mirian explained when she was close enough.

    ¡°Did it have to be during the break?¡± Professor Marva said, voice as grizzled as they looked.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t have interrupted you, except it is the fate of the world at stake.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I understand. I just¡­ I hate subterfuge. I know that must sound ridiculous, coming from an illusionist. Danger makes me sick to my stomach. I just wanted a peaceful life.¡±

    Mirian nodded. ¡°So did I.¡±

    Marva looked at Mirian and blinked. ¡°You still look like a student. I have to remind myself you¡¯re nearly my age now.¡±

    They began walking toward the plaza, clear across town. ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation, you were very courageous when we raided an Akanan dreadnought airship,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°I¡­ thanks, I guess. So what do you want to know?¡±

    ¡°If Sulvorath is aboard that airship. He¡¯s used illusions before, but I need to know if he¡¯s graduated to celestial binding magic. Not through use of any divination or spells, though¡ªI don¡¯t know what preparations he¡¯s made, and don¡¯t want to alert him. How good are you at viewing others¡¯ souls?¡±

    ¡°Not great,¡± Marva admitted. ¡°I was never interested in affecting other people. All my focus has always been on my own body. That, I know well. But if I make contact with him, I may be able to get a glimpse. Handshakes,¡± they said as the two of them neared the old theater. ¡°It¡¯s a great way to detect illusions, too. Most people don¡¯t actually make the illusion perfectly flush with their skin, or there¡¯s some other discrepancy. I¡¯ve graded far too many students on practical illusions to be able to miss that sort of thing.¡±

    ¡°Perfect,¡± Mirian said, ¡°And thanks. We¡¯ll split up here. I¡¯ll be watching, but not participating. Any information you can get on the goals of the researchers, or on Sulvorath will be helpful.¡±

    Marva started reforming themselves into someone who looked a bit more like a professor, their hair straightening and beard becoming neatly trimmed. Mirian casually pressed her focus to her chest to watch. It really was masterful work. Marva didn¡¯t remove the complex bindings on their soul, they simply readjusted them. It took a measure of fine control Mirian still didn¡¯t have, and it took knowing exactly where the key points of their soul were.

    Then Mirian headed for one of the halls south of the plaza, where first year students generally learned how to flail about ineffectually with an arcane catalyst for a few quarters. The study rooms in two of the buildings overlooked the plaza, and the windows were usually already open so it would be a perfect view of the plaza.

    When she got into position, she could already see Archmage Luspire and High Wizard Ferrandus were both wearing formal robes. There was a white, black and orange carpet rolled out across the plaza, as well as a crowd of professors and students, though none of them were wearing anything formal. Someone had placed both the banners of Akana and Baracuel up on a wall, and those fluttered in the brisk afternoon wind.

    Mirian cast an enhance hearing spell on her left ear, turning that side of her head slightly so she could pick up the noises below. Mostly, it was indistinct chatter, but she caught Luspire asking, ¡°Where¡¯s Adria?¡± to Ferrandus, who subtly shrugged his shoulders.

    Bad news about that one, buddy, Mirian thought.

    Then the crowd started oohing and pointing up, and there was the quiet hum of airship engines.

    The airship that came down wasn¡¯t Sulvorath¡¯s usual little skiff that sat one or two. This thing was better classified as a sky yacht. The hull was painted with blue and white swirls, and the masthead was the classic Akanan double-headed eagle. The two huge wings on each side with the gossamer spellcloth taut between them barely fit in the plaza, but the airship touched down gracefully to much applause.

    From her perch on the third floor, Mirian could look down at the deck and see some of the people on board. They were dressed in the suits and jackets favored by Akanans for formal wear. Most of the people on board were strangers, but she recognized two.

    The first was Marshal Cearsia¡¯s strange assistant who had behaved erratically in previous loops.

    The second was Marshal Cearsia.

 Chapter 125 - The Delegation

    A long ramp extended from the airship deck down to the plaza, and the Vadriach delegation made its way down. Based on their dress and the spellbooks dangling from a chain at their side, there were six researchers, though from the colors on their jackets, three of them appeared to be from the Arboholm University. Maybe that¡¯s where he starts, or near it. That¡¯s near the Akanan military base that launches the airships, right?

    ¡°My fellow arcanists and students,¡± Luspire announced to the gathering. ¡°It is my great pleasure to announce a new era of magical research! Torrviol Academy is honored to be creating new ties of camaraderie and united purpose with the universities of Arborholm and Vadriach. May I welcome the great Archmage Magnus Tyrcast to Torrviol!¡±

    There was a light applause, followed by conversation among the students. Someone shouted, ¡°Do we get to ride on the airship?¡± which Luspire ignored. One by one, he continued to introduce the other researchers, each getting slightly less applause since no one knew who any of them were.

    The others, apparently, did not get the honor of any introduction, though Mirian caught him and Marshal Cearsia glancing at each other. The rest of the delegation seemed to be made up of airship crew and assistants and apprentices.

    Mirian kept a close eye on Cearsia¡¯s aide. He seemed tense, and kept surveying the crowd. She¡¯d seen him before, first on the Akanan airship at her side, then several times after that. He¡¯d changed his actions several times. Mirian had first thought it was because he was like Viridian, and that it only took a small nudge to radically change his behavior. Now, the puzzle pieces were all falling into place. That¡¯s got to be him, she thought. Still, she¡¯d want to check the others as a precaution.

    The ceremony seemed to dissolve by mutual consent after that. The students milled around to listen in or jump straight to gossip, while the various professors and researchers assembled started mingling and chatting. Unfortunately, the sound amplification Mirian was using did nothing to filter out the conversations she wanted to listen to, so she dismissed it.

    She watched as Professor Torres chatted with one of the Arborholm researchers, then grinned as she saw the man lead her onto the ship to show her around. Meanwhile, Professor Marva seemed to be having a wonderful time laughing and chatting as they mingled. That, Mirian knew, was its own kind of illusion. She knew from attending their classes, though, that they could put on a performance when they needed to. Behind the carefree presentation Marva was putting on was a tactical methodology; they managed to shake hands with almost everyone.

    Cearsia¡¯s assistant ignored Marva¡¯s hand when it was presented to him, pulling back from them with barely veiled disgust.

    Strange. But perhaps an indicator of some previous interaction with Marva. Or that he feels above them.

    After a few minutes, the students began to disperse, except for a few who were gawking at the airship. The delegation made its way to Torrian Tower. Torres and one of the researchers headed back down the ramp, and the airship and its crew lifted off.

    Mirian considered ending her operation and fleeing to Palendurio. With Archmage Tyrcast and Marshal Cearsia, there were two more people present who could overpower her.

    She weighed the risks. This was the first time Sulvorath had been able to bring them to Torrviol. How much control over them did he really have? If he was the assistant, he hadn¡¯t been able to control Cearsia before. And none of them would know soul magic, of that, she could be nearly certain.

    And I have four orichalcum pieces now, she knew. And Eclipse. She hadn¡¯t tested out the sword against anyone, but since it was already linked to her soul, it should have the same protective effects. And it¡¯s nearly pure mythril, with adamantium. I should be basically immune to the direct effects of spells. They could use indirect spells, but in any scenario I¡¯ll have time to react.

    She also already had three allies among the professors.

    This was also an opportunity to see the early stages of Sulvorath¡¯s plan, and find points to interfere before he could refine it.

    It was also an opportunity to make contacts with different Akanans. A well placed message on a zephyr falcon could derail the entire expedition.

    She decided to stay. She already had a rendezvous planned with Jei, Marva, and Priest Krier.

    ***

    Mirian met with Priest Krier on Seventhday after the service and reported that she¡¯d killed the first necromancer, and that she suspected the second had just arrived. The Akanan spies seemed to never attend the Luminate Temples, which made sense. If they knew about the soul marks, they also likely knew priests could detect them. And, they would no doubt be reluctant to attend what they considered a blasphemous sect of the Church of the Ominian. Priest Krier seemed desperate for answers about what the Ominian wanted, though he never said so directly. Unfortunately, she had no answers for him.

    She met with Marva during one of their private sessions as the second quarter began on the 12th. The usual snow drifted peacefully down outside the window.

    They handed Mirian an envelope as soon as she walked in. ¡°Here¡¯s the extra assignments, Micael,¡± they said. ¡°Will that be all?¡±

    Mirian paused. ¡°I did have a few questions,¡± she said, as she scribbled down a note on a separate piece of paper. ¡°I didn¡¯t quite understand some of the lecture material today.¡± She tried to think back to the kinds of stupid questions she used to hear students ask in class. ¡°The flux glyphs that are changing in illusion spells seem different then the ones in combat magic,¡± she said, which was completely wrong.

    She handed Professor Marva the note, which said, ¡®Do you have reason to believe they¡¯re deploying divination spells?¡¯

    While Marva talked through the basic flux glyphs commonly used in illusion spells, and how they worked exactly the same in any other spell (because spell categories were arbitrary and created by people, not inherent to the magic), she wrote down her reply. ¡®Yes. The Akanans are installing short range communication devices in our offices. For ease of collaboration. Mine included. Disabling it would be suspicious.¡¯

    Mirian understood the danger by implication. If a device could pick up sound when you wanted it to, there was nothing preventing it from picking up sound when you didn¡¯t want it to. The spell engine now sitting next to Marva¡¯s desk was closed, so neither of them could deduce its function just by looking at it. How common are these devices in Akana? she wondered. Perhaps that¡¯s why Sulvorath is so used to using blackmail and social leverage.

    Mirian had left most of Sulvorath¡¯s spy cell untouched. They wouldn¡¯t have the manpower to actually eavesdrop on everyone, but they weren¡¯t hurting for resources either. It wasn¡¯t something they could leave to chance.

    ¡®If we need to communicate more information, I can set that up. Just let me know,¡¯ Mirian wrote back.

    ¡®File should have everything for now. Also means we need to stop soul-modification lessons. Too risky.¡¯

    ¡®Good, thank you. Burn our exchange for safety,¡¯ Mirian replied.

    ¡°Thanks so much, Professor,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re a great instructor.¡±

    ¡°Happy to help, Micael. Just make sure you pay more attention to common glyph patterns. None of the subjects are actually all that separate.¡±

    Miran left.

    Sulvorath hadn¡¯t just been working on a way to bring more power over to Torrviol. He also knew she was using the professors to impede his efforts, and was looking to root out anyone Mirian talked to.

    She was starting to run out of easy allies to use in Torrviol. Eventually, she got everyone on board with her to fight the Battle of Torrviol, but she¡¯d been too focused on key actors and building on a cascade of events. Now, that left her bereft of allies she could quickly direct in two days.

    She could easily turn the priests to her side, but they were, by their nature, outside most of the politics and all of the Academics, and she didn¡¯t think they would take well to being ordered to go on a campaign of sabotage or spying. Detecting necromancy, they could do, but little beyond that. What she really needed was beyond the scope of their expertise and natural inclinations.

    I could set up more seeds of chaos here, she thought, but decided that random acts of arson probably weren¡¯t the best way forward. That, and there¡¯s enough arcanists here the chance of detection would be way higher, and then I¡¯d lose a critical tool against Sulvorath.

    Mirian resolved to keep thinking about it. For the time being though, she¡¯d go through Marva¡¯s report and continue to lay low and observe.

    Back in the dorm, she opened up the envelope. In a private dinner to celebrate the new collaboration, Marva had been able to pat the assistant on the shoulder. It had been enough, and Marva had found Cearsia¡¯s assistant had extensive soul modifications. They¡¯d written that he had an estimated hundred soul marks.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    She gaped at the number. The mark is just that¡ªa mark. It doesn¡¯t grant benefits, so why would¡ª?

    And then she realized. Agent Nikoline¡ªSpecter¡ªhadn¡¯t just bemoaned not being part of the loop idly. She¡¯s giving herself information each loop. She must have chosen some sort of system she could deduce. The marks aren¡¯t part of any language though, and the Luminates only use them sparsely. I doubt I¡¯d be able to decode it, and there¡¯s no way she tells me. But she¡¯s helping Sulvorath because she knows she can control him. That brought up another point. Did Nikoline curse him? Has his mind been manipulated? Does that explain his behavior?

    Mirian hadn¡¯t exactly become an expert on curse-breaking, but Arenthia had taught her the basics. But if I confront him and remove whatever she¡¯s added to his soul, that would also reveal my capabilities in soul magic. He could be acting under his own power, and if that¡¯s the case, all I¡¯d do is tip him off to an area he¡¯s weak in. The longer he stays ignorant of soul magic, the better for me. And any other time travelers he discovers. Did he really discover others besides the southern traveler?

    The name at the top of the document read ¡®Troytin Pratting.¡¯ Since Sulvorath¡ªTroytin¡ªhadn¡¯t talked to Marva, they¡¯d asked Cearsia, who apparently had a very low opinion of her ¡®assistant.¡¯

    She made a face. That¡¯s his real name? Well, I certainly know why he used a pseudonym.

    That was good news though. She could start to get Nicolus¡¯s uncle to learn what he could about Troytin.

    Mirian started going through the rest of the documents. Marva¡ªand the other professors they¡¯d talked to¡ªhad little information on most of the researchers. They were competent, but no geniuses. The exception, of course, was Archmage Tyrcast. He wasn¡¯t just an archmage, but a genius at spell engines, and apparently, a killer chef. He was happily married to the heiress of Rosen Machining, and through that company, his spell engine designs had become mass produced and popular enough that people used ¡®a tyrcast¡¯ as shorthand for an advanced vehicle spell engine. The airship they¡¯d flown in on was apparently using one of his designs.

    Luspire envied him like nothing else.

    Mirian recalled Archmage Luspire smiling as he greeted Tyrcast with a grin so wide it threatened to crack. Of course. He¡¯d try to hide his envy, and his weakness. The man can¡¯t abide flaws, but even worse is other people knowing about those flaws.

    Marshal Cearsia has been quiet through most of the meetings and the dinner. Mirian had learned about her military reputation and tactics from General Hanaran, but very little about her as a person. Marva had asked about her, and the resulting notes read: ¡®Fought in Second Battle of Alatishad in Persama. Several combat operations to suppress Dawn¡¯s Peace. Tour of duty in Zhighua, but operations and activities unclear or deliberately withheld. Recent work has been military research. Quick to anger. Staunch patriot. Does not like dinner parties.¡¯

    The dossier wasn¡¯t exactly telling her anything she didn¡¯t already know.

    Still, it was a start.

    ***

    Mirian was annoyed at the rapier she was borrowing from the school. The balance was all wrong. ¡°Valen, can I use yours for my next bout? I need to practice with something that isn¡¯t garbage, or I¡¯ll screw up my blade sense.¡±

    Valen scoffed. ¡°Boys,¡± she said, rolling her eyes, but then handed it over.

    Two weeks of constant practice had gotten her back into fighting form quickly enough. She won her next bout easily. Leading combat operations and her practice with magical warfare seemed to have helped too. She was more likely to be aggressive when she needed to be, and be defensive when that suited her better.

    ¡°Micael and Liamar,¡± the director called.

    Mirian smiled. That was who she wanted to duel. Nothing forced improvement like fighting the best.

    As soon as the director called for them to begin, Mirian started on the attack, following up her aggression with two quick thrusts. Liamar used distance to dodge her first lunge, then parried the follow-ups easily, but she could tell he wasn¡¯t used to people having the nerve to go on the attack.

    That didn¡¯t mean he was bad at defending, though. Mirian pushed him back two more times, but then a quick parry riposte got Liamar a point. How is he so fast? she wondered. Mirian knew she wasn¡¯t slow, and she knew she¡¯d practiced enough her motions were automatic. There shouldn¡¯t have been so much of a difference. In all her other bouts, her speed either surpassed or was equal to the other duelists, and then it came down to things like anticipating her opponent¡¯s next move, precise bladework, or superior footwork. Liamar was good at all those things, but even when Mirian could predict what he was about to do, she usually couldn¡¯t stop it.

    Liamar went on the offensive after that. She knew from watching him that he liked to use a quick double disengage as he lunged forward, but mid-lunge he could change it up fast enough that Mirian¡¯s only hope of defense was distance and footwork. She played for space, getting two glancing blows that put her score up at a half point.

    She danced around the dueling circle, relying on her advantage in endurance. At least one thing she could enjoy about the time loop was the ability to start each cycle with a body that had been doing long runs in Mage¡¯s Grove for years, even if she hadn¡¯t actually run regularly during the time loops.

    Liamar was starting to get frustrated, which was the first time Mirian had ever seen that. Suddenly, he burst forward with such speed that Mirian felt like she was watching an illusion that had stuttered. She looked at the director, and from his wide eyes, knew that it wasn¡¯t just her. Obviously, Liamar had gotten the point, but it took the director a second to award it.

    Mirian tried to recall what had just happened. There was something itching at the back of her brain.

    They started again, blades clashing in a flurry of attacks, parries, and ripostes before Mirian was forced to play for distance, then he did it again, lunging so fast he covered the distance before her parry was halfway complete so that her blade flashed yellow as it stopped over his arm. Again, Mirian and the director shared a knowing glance. This time, though, she¡¯d been expecting it. There had been something. It wasn¡¯t her arcane sense, but the one like it, the one she felt when a priest was doing something.

    She was wearing her focus under her dueling jacket, and this time, she embraced it, looking not just at Liamar, but his soul. Oh shit, she thought.

    At this point, she¡¯d seen a lot of souls. Professor Marva¡¯s was, for lack of better terms, neat and organized, with hundreds of tiny bindings dividing it up nicely. Arenthia¡¯s was fast and smooth, like a river that had cut its channel through a canyon and had stopped worrying where it needed to go.

    Liamars was like a sea at storm, with white-capped waves crashing everywhere at once.

    Mirian went through the motions of a defense on the last point, but her attention was mostly focused on that tempest. She could see his soul flaring briefly with each movement. When he accelerated into a lunge again, it brightened even more, sending a shockwave through the rest of the flows like a seismic wave.

    It was beautiful. She couldn¡¯t even be mad that he¡¯d landed his last point directly over her heart.

    Valen wanted to talk to her, but Mirian handed her her sword back and went over to Liamar.

    She checked to make sure no one was near enough to hear, then kept her voice low and asked, ¡°Can you teach me to do that?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not an instructor,¡± he said. ¡°If you want lessons¡ª¡±

    ¡°Not your bladework.¡±

    Liamar scowled, which was something of his default expression, so it was more like his scowl just deepened. ¡°Then what are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°Your soul-work,¡± she whispered.

    His eyes widened. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± he said.

    ¡°I can keep a secret. I just want to learn how to do it.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± he said again, and gathered up his things.

    ¡°If you can¡¯t teach me, who can? Who was your instructor?¡±

    He started walking out the door. Mirian followed him. ¡°Master Karogos. You can find¡ª¡±

    ¡°No, I know about Karogos. He likes to visit all the academies. He gave instruction to me back in preparatory school. Uh, the Akanan equivalent,¡± she corrected. ¡°Anyways, he doesn¡¯t teach soul magic. But you¡¯re absolutely using soul magic.¡±

    Liamar quickened his pace, trying to lose her. ¡°I really don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about, but I¡¯d appreciate it if you¡¯d stop harassing me.¡±

    ¡°Guess I¡¯ll tell Priest Krier you¡¯re a necromancer then,¡± Mirian said with a shrug. ¡°We¡¯re on pretty good terms. I think he¡¯ll listen.¡±

    Liamar froze, then whirled on her. ¡°What the fuck is wrong with you? Just leave me alone!¡±

    ¡°Just give me a name. I have a really good reason to learn what you¡¯re doing. It could save a lot of lives. You want gold for the name? Connections to the noble houses? Personal instruction on any of your courses?¡± She cocked her head. ¡°Does it require a focus? Or I don¡¯t know, maybe you call it an elder reliquary like someone else I know. I need to learn it. I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s from you or someone else.¡±

    Liamar was looking at her with wild eyes now. It was interesting. He¡¯d always been unflappable in the dueling circle. He¡¯d dedicated his entire life to¡ª

    Oh. There was another layer to his reluctance, beyond the association soul magic had with necromancy. ¡°I will swear upon my life that I will never best you in any official dueling competition you attend,¡± she said, extending a hand. ¡°May the Ominian strike me down if I lie.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ I can¡¯t¡­¡±

    ¡°Was I fighting like someone going in for points?¡± she asked. ¡°Think about the difference between a competition duels and actual swordfights. Which style was I using? I know you know the difference. That¡¯s what I¡¯m training for.¡±

    ¡°I could report you. To the guard. Or¡­ or I could tell the priests you¡¯re blackmailing me.¡±

    Mirian stepped forward and brought her voice to a harsh whisper. ¡°I know how to put a necromancer¡¯s brand on your soul. I also know for a fact that the priests won¡¯t listen to a word you say after I do it. You want to risk that? Or, you can give me a name, and I¡¯ll leave you alone for good. Which will it be?¡±

    Liamar swallowed, and she could see he was trembling with adrenaline now. ¡°Promise you won¡¯t hurt him.¡±

    ¡°I swear it on the Ominian. But you better tell me the truth. I¡¯ll know if you lie, and then I¡¯ll be back, and you¡¯ll see what happens when I¡¯m actually pissed off.¡±

    The duelist closed his eyes. ¡°Rostal Bedeu. He lives in Palendurio.¡±

    ¡°Palendurio¡¯s big. Where?¡±

    ¡°Lowfort district. That¡¯s east of Charl¡ª¡±

    ¡°I know where that is. Thank you. Hopefully, you never have to deal with me again,¡± she said, and gave him a fake smile. ¡°Oh¡ªand one more thing. Let¡¯s both forget this conversation ever took place, yes?¡±

    Liamar nodded, then quickly walked off.

    Mirian weighed the methods she had just used with the morality of it. It had left a bad taste in her mouth, but it had also gotten her critical information in record time. And it¡¯s for a good cause, she thought. This could be my key to the Vaults.

 Chapter 126 - Staying in the Shadows

    After that, Mirian committed to laying low. She attended classes like any dutiful student, pretending to take notes while she worked on ideas for improvements to her leyline analysis artifacts, spell engine design, and ways she might create unified celestial and arcane devices. So far, her actual experimentation with combining glyphs and runes had led mostly to whatever she was working on catching on fire. Her leading hypothesis was that arcane runes operated on a similar rule to the way flux glyphs and static glyphs worked; some runes were inherently unstable, and changed functions based on what was near them.

    The problem was she still only knew a handful of runes, compared to the hundreds and hundreds of glyphs she knew. And experimenting was both time consuming and expensive. Since she was trying not to cause a stir, she had to keep her budget reasonable. She also had to be subtle about harvesting the local myrvites for soul energy. That further limited her, because there was only so much you could do with a bone-rat and prism moth souls. Half the runes she knew couldn¡¯t even be formed by such weak souls.

    A big focus, then, became how the Akanan airship worked.

    Antigravity glyphs were key, obviously; it was so much more efficient than using a force spell. Yet while she knew how her wand of levitation had done it, and had applied that to her seeds of chaos design, it wasn¡¯t so easy to lift something as bulky as an airship. Her first idea had involved just having an antigravity sequence in the core of the ship, like with her seeds of chaos.

    However, her seeds of chaos spun around wildly because there was nothing to stabilize them. That was fine for what was essentially a lightweight incendiary. Put a person on something like that, though, and they¡¯d be dumped overboard immediately. Strap them in, and they¡¯d probably die of nausea. It would also wreck the aerodynamics of the ship, sort of like trying to sail a boat sideways.

    So she tried two antigravity sequences, and while the result didn¡¯t flail about wildly, it did spin like the axle of a carriage. That was great for bullets being fired from a rifled barrel; not so much for an airship.

    Three antigravity sequences gave her tiny wooden model airship great stability. It also burned the fossilized myrvite fuel in record time.

    Well, I guess that¡¯s why it took people a while to make airships, even after they figured out levitation, Mirian thought, after her prototype that tried to spread out the applied antigravity force to the hull crashed into the ground. At least this one didn¡¯t catch on fire, she thought, but as soon as she approached it, the glyphs started sparking and the artifact burst into flames. She sneered at it.

    Professor Torres had gotten her several pieces of key information about the airships. The wings were important, and were doing something to stabilize the vehicle. Obviously. The force was spread out, but somehow, there was only one engine. However, while the research professor Torres had talked to had been happy to show off the interior of the flying yacht, he hadn¡¯t shown her the engine room, and most of the glyph sequences were hidden behind panels, or inside locked spell engines. She could say conceptually what each piece of the airship did, but that was nearly useless for actually building one that could transport a person across the Rift Sea.

    Mirian began to conceive of another plan.

    She couldn¡¯t help herself. Airships were, objectively, the coolest artifacts around. And they would be incredibly useful. So somehow, she needed to set up a situation where the Akanans would be willing to share airship designs.

    Fort Aegrimere had airships. Some other forts probably did, too. The Arcane Praetorians had airships. Those airships were fine for short-range reconnaissance, or emergency extractions or insertions. Anything they could do, though, she could do with a levitation wand. She needed the Akanan airships, because they¡¯d made some sort of breakthrough Baracuel hadn¡¯t.

    Which, of course, was why it was a highly protected state secret.

    But Sulvorath was having that state secret delivered straight to her doorstep now.

    She was beginning to reconsider her tactics.

    Meanwhile, Mirian got a crash-course in academic politics, which turned out to be as infuriating and nonsensical as  regular politics. She had absolutely no desire to learn about the personal lives of the Akanan professors, but it turned out petty grudges and serrated gossip weren¡¯t just the domain of her girlfriends in preparatory school. The professors made even a rumormonger like Valen look like an amateur.

    It seemed that Specter was the one who ordered the second assassination attempt on Jei if the first one failed. Or, perhaps the orders from Agent Hache changed because suddenly his own people were now part of the Divine Monument research project. Or maybe Sulvorath had intervened, even though he usually didn¡¯t do that. Either way, Mirian had worked with Jei to prepare her home with defenses and gotten Torres to stand watch, but it had turned out to be unnecessary.

    Instead, Mirian and Jei chatted inside a secure area of the Artificer¡¯s Tower to avoid the new Akanan eavesdropping devices.

    Jei was laying out her understanding in her usual stiff tone. ¡°¡­and so the older academic takes partial credit for all research done by the younger academic. This is considered beneficial to the younger academic because the older academic is introducing them to networks of colleagues, or is able to exchange the accolades they would earn for additional resources. Refusal to play this game is highly detrimental to their career, as the older academics, especially those interested in prestige, monopolize the hiring committees. It is far more effective to advance your career by making friends with the Archmage¡ªor Provisional Archmage, if no one in the institution is powerful enough for that title¡ªthan it is to do novel research.¡±

    Mirian made a gagging noise.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Jei said. ¡°There are exceptions, of course. Also, if you are a genius, or you can make allies with older academics outside the usual channels, you can often bypass a parasitic academic.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s still¡­ stupid. It doesn¡¯t even¡­ I mean, isn¡¯t the point of research to advance human knowledge? To create the technologies that will make a better world?¡±

    Jei sighed. ¡°You are now too worldly to believe that. Do you believe the Torrviol Guard exists to uphold the law? Do you believe Parliament seeks primarily to represent the people of Baracuel?¡±

    ¡°Ugh. None of it works the way it¡¯s supposed to work. Did it ever?¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°You should read the works of Zhuan Li. She was doing research on political theory, but to greatly summarize her work, the answer is, ¡®probably never.¡¯ She said¡­ hmm. I cannot remember. It was something about how elite control of a political system requires an ¡®ideology of internal rationalization.¡¯ I am not sure if that term translates well. Regardless, I chose to mostly avoid political maneuvering. It was¡­ how do you say ¡®cannot concentrate¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Distracting?¡±

    ¡°It was distracting. But Torres and I have analyzed the social relations of these Akanans. They are smart, but parasitic. I doubt they will add much to the Monument research.¡±

    ¡°So most of these researchers have big names because of work their junior professors and apprentices have done?¡±

    ¡°Correct. Except for Archmage Tyrcast. This is not to say that Tyrcast is not a parasite; he has benefited greatly from an army of apprentices and a great deal of resources that have been poured into his projects by Akana¡¯s government and his wife¡¯s joint stock company. However, I must regretfully inform you he is also smart.¡±

    ¡°Regretfully?¡±

    ¡°I am Zhighuan,¡± Jei said simply.

    Mirian sneered. ¡°Oh. That fucker. He really¡­?¡±

    ¡°I do not like discussing it. But you should know.¡±

    ¡°Ugh! Why do Akanans always have their heads so far up their asses?¡±

    Jei started thinking about that. ¡°If the head is¡­ hmm. So they cannot see. Ah, it is like the Zhighuan phrase, ¡®they stare at the sun because they think it is their only equal.¡¯¡±

    Mirian laughed. ¡°Sounds about right.¡±

    ¡°Zhuan would probably say that you cannot subjugate a people you think is your equal.¡±

    ¡°I guess so. So what should I know about this Tyrcast?¡±

    ¡°Rich. Well connected. Luspire believes he actually can only reach 98.4 myr when casting, but the detectors they used for his trial were deliberately miscalibrated. This is a point of pride for Luspire.¡±

    Another expert in gossip. ¡°And you said he¡¯s an expert in spell engines?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°So perhaps Sulvorath seeks to use him to make divination engines to hunt for me. Or maybe he¡¯s looking to develop the speed or efficacy of existing airship engines so he can cut down travel times, and that¡¯s easier to do if he¡¯s here. Or maybe he just wants a counterbalance so I can¡¯t just sic Luspire on him when he¡¯s not expecting it and ruin an entire loop.¡±

    ¡°It could also be to lay the foundation for a more successful invasion.¡±

    Mirian tapped her chin thoughtfully. ¡°Yes, though I don¡¯t see why they¡¯d need that. Or, maybe it¡¯s to stop Cearsia from blowing up the Monument. A goal I don¡¯t actually oppose. Well, keep monitoring their efforts. They haven¡¯t made any clear moves yet?¡±

    ¡°There have been a lot of long meetings where nothing has been said. The assistant, Troytin, looked very frustrated with it all. But he did not speak during the meetings. He kept looking at me in a way that was very obvious, so I asked him why he was looking at me, and he muttered some slurs in Akanan that he must think I don¡¯t understand.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Sorry about that. He knows you from the previous time loops, where you helped kill him. So¡­ you can take solace in that, I guess.¡±

    Jei nodded, and rose to her feet. ¡°I think he believes you are absent, and can take his time crafting a new sequence of events. I have another meeting to get to. I will contact you if there are any major developments.¡±

    ***

    Not much continued to happen.

    When she got Nicolus¡¯s letter by zephyr falcon, it turned out his father didn¡¯t even get a message from the other time traveler. Though he did confirm Marduke Sacristar was making legally dubious moves (a bit of light treason), Specter¡¯s files had already told her that. She felt bad, because apparently all he¡¯d done is send Nicolus down to suffer his father for a month. At least his death won¡¯t be so painful this cycle, she knew.

    Sulvorath seemed at first to just be gathering information, but then train shipments started showing up with more fossilized myrvite and dry food than they normally did.

    Mirian pondered the purpose of it. He still intends the Akanan army to attack Torrviol. Only, the quick thrust outpaces its own supply lines, so he¡¯s making a forward stockpile for them right under our noses.

    Is that why Cearsia blows up the Monument? Because despite the Akanan victory, she knows Torrviol can¡¯t be held?

    If that was the case, it might actually be beneficial to let him take Torrviol. She still wanted to see how long it took for the Divir moon to fall if the Monument was intact. And if there is a limit to the amount of time loops, longer loops would mean I can get more done.

    Still, Mirian worked on crafting counters to every plan of his she could detect. There were easy ways to sabotage the listening machines. Luspire could likely be turned into an engine of timeline chaos by showing him Specter¡¯s dossier on him. And the supply depots could be taken care of easily by her seeds of chaos designs.

    On the 22nd of Solem, a zephyr falcon arrived for the Akanans, followed shortly by the sky yacht landing outside of town. The excuse the Akanans gave was that there was an emergency in Vadriach and the Prime Minister had ordered the immediate recall of all arcanists to help deal with it.

    ¡°Luspire went with them,¡± Jei told Mirian as soon as they met. ¡°But not before locking down the room to the Divine Monument. He¡¯s charged Ferrandus with keeping the area secure.¡±

    ¡°And what¡¯s Sulvorath up to? Did he leave with Cearsia?¡±

    ¡°No. He¡¯s still here. Torres put a tracking device in his bag, and he hasn¡¯t found it. She made it look exactly like a silver florin.¡±

    ¡°Bless Torres,¡± Mirian muttered. ¡°Where¡¯s he hiding? I¡¯ll ensure there¡¯s a change in the captain of the guard.¡±

    A day later, the false guard captain was a pile of ash and bone in Torrviol Lake, and word came that the train to Cairnmouth had been damaged. Its spell engine had burned, and now the train was blocking all movement between Torrviol and the rest of Baracuel. The explosion, though, had happened the night of the Akanan¡¯s departure.

    ¡°The arcane eruption¡¯s never damaged the train itself before. The Akanans might have bombed it from that airship,¡± Mirian told Jei in their next meeting.

    ¡°With Luspire aboard?¡±

    ¡°They probably killed him. An archmage is still vulnerable to a dagger in the night.¡±

    Jei went pale at that.

    Sulvorath had made himself a new safehouse by buying up a piece of property south of city hall. He¡¯d bought the property under a false name, then had the spies start using that building for any check-ins they needed to do. He¡¯d also hollowed out a passage down to the Underground, and was no doubt setting things up there.

    If Mirian had skipped town like she normally did, it would have thrown off her contingencies. As it was, the other time traveler had just let his cavalry fly off in an airship, and was now missing any major allies to support him. Mirian figured she¡¯d seen enough of his plans. Now she wanted to see how everything played out.

    She wouldn¡¯t give him the same opportunity.

    Mirian tipped off Magistrate Ada, dropping off Specter¡¯s notes, including information on the spy network and clear evidence of her treason. Then she told Priest Krier she knew where the necromancer was, while the Magistrate got the guard to get ready for the capture operation.

    Meanwhile, Mirian put her lessons from Professor Marva to work, changing her disguise so that her face and hair color matched one of the acolytes at the temple, and got Priest Krier to lend her an acolyte robe. Priests got to sit in on interrogations with necromancers, and disguised as one of his acolytes, she reasoned she wouldn¡¯t attract attention.

    Sulvorath didn¡¯t expect the ambush. Likely, he hadn¡¯t even realized Agent Hache had gone missing, and he certainly didn¡¯t have the spellpower to defend against a half dozen city guards backed by several professors. They quickly restrained him.

    It was rather anticlimactic, but Mirian preferred it that way. The less risks she took, the more overwhelming force she could deploy against her enemies, the better. Mirian had talked to both Krier and Ada to plan the interrogation ahead of time. With Sulvorath captured, she joined Krier on his way to the Magistrate¡¯s office.

    It would be nice to see him in chains. She hoped the other time traveler squirmed.

 Chapter 127 - Troytin

    The interrogation room in the Magistrate¡¯s office brought back memories for Mirian. The first thing she noticed was that Sulvorath had been using illusions to make himself appear a bit taller and more muscular when he was in public. Without his illusions, he was the typical fair skinned Akanan, with brown hair and a slight build. If he was Akanan military, it was logistics or support, not front line combat.

    When they entered the room, an enraged Sulvorath was busy swearing in Eskinar. ¡°¡ªand I¡¯ll fucking remember this, you ass-crowned peasants! You think this will stop me? You think this will even slow me down? Did the bitch put you up to it? When I find her, you¡¯ll have nothing left. You¡¯ll all bow before me or die, and I¡¯ll make sure you know what sins you¡¯re paying for. Fuck!¡± he roared, spittle flying from his mouth.

    While Priest Krier joined Ada across from the Akanan man, Mirian stayed to the side, acolyte¡¯s hood over her head, standing in a silent corner. She had two wands up her sleeve if she needed them, but they¡¯d already searched Sulvorath thoroughly for any arcane catalysts or weapons.

    Priest Krier put his hand on Sulvorath¡¯s shoulder. The man bucked and strained against the shackles restraining him to the chair. ¡°Get your fucking hands off me you shithead heretic!¡± He¡¯d swapped to Friian, though his accent was still thick.

    The priest closed his eyes, no doubt sensing the extensive marks plastered all over Sulvorath¡¯s soul. He nodded at Ada.

    ¡°We¡¯ll add necromancy to the charges, then. Why didn¡¯t you leave with the rest of the Akanans, Troytin? The guard is rounding up your spies as we speak. But perhaps we can extradite you back to Akana Praediar if we better understand what you were doing.¡± Ada had no intention of doing this, but the idea was to give Sulvorath¡ªno, Troytin¡ªhope that he could talk his way out of his predicament. The more information they could get out of him, the better.

    ¡°Fuck you. You don¡¯t know who you¡¯re dealing with. I am the Ominian¡¯s chosen one. He chose me for His holy mission. Why should you release me? So He doesn¡¯t damn you to Carkavakom¡¯s fires!¡±

    Ada shook her head. ¡°Holy mission?¡±

    ¡°This only ends when the false prophets are cast down. And I will cast them down. My will is unbreakable.¡±

    Priest Krier took over from there. ¡°Why do you think the Ominian has called for a contest?¡±

    ¡°The dreams. He doesn¡¯t give them to you because you¡¯re heretical swine. Akana Praediar is righteous. It¡¯s the nation of progress, with a church that has kept the faith. We embody all His aspects.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± said Krier. She could see his jaw clenching at being called a heretic, but he was controlling his temper. ¡°What do the dreams show you?¡±

    ¡°His Temple, of course. The lands promised to us¡ªwhich is all of them. And the tree of ascension. Only one may rest on its crown. Only one may occupy a throne. Only one is called to fight the war against the five hells. That wall of fire approaches us. And Akana Praediar will face it, united, under my banner. And insects like you? They¡¯ll be crushed.¡±

    Troytin seemed to be enjoying his rant. He went back to threatening them all.

    Mirian recognized the dreams he was referring to. The Mausoleum, the tree, and the wall of fire in the stars. The travels across Enteria. Only, he¡¯d interpreted them differently.

    Ada interrupted him. ¡°How does the Divine Monument come into this?¡±

    Troytin gave her a wide smile, and leaned back in his chair. ¡°You¡¯d like to know, wouldn¡¯t you? But the divine mysteries aren¡¯t for you, little bug. Maybe if you start serving me, I¡¯ll have mercy. You know, Ada, I know where your mother and father live. Nice little farm, east of Cairnmouth. It¡¯d be such a shame if anything happened to them. And Krier¡ªI know your sister lives in Palendurio. Alone, still. Do you know how easy it will be for me to order her death? No one will even know it was me. And do you know whose fault it is, for your suffering?¡± The prisoner leaned forward suddenly, pulling his shackles taut. ¡°YOURS! For opposing ME!¡±

    Gods above, Mirian thought. And I¡¯d thought the time loops were driving me insane. He¡¯s absolutely cracked.

    Of course, what consequence would he face for his outburst? He thought she was in Cairnmouth.

    Mirian came over with a cloth with the excuse of wiping the spittle from his mouth. As she did, she briefly touched a hand to his shoulder.

    ¡°Get that away from me you prick,¡± Troytin swore as she dabbed his mouth. She took pleasure in knowing she was annoying him.

    As she worked, she looked at his soul. Marva had been right. He was covered in tiny soul marks. They weren¡¯t visible at a distance, but up close she could see them. Hundreds and hundreds of them. There was some pattern to them, but Mirian couldn¡¯t begin to know how many hours¡ªor days¡ªit might take to figure out what Specter had been trying to do with them.

    What stood out to her, though, was the circular pattern of marks around the hole in his soul.

    She wondered if the double-agent had made any progress on understanding it.

    ¡°Get OFF!¡± Sulvorath roared. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me with your dirty hands. I don¡¯t want insects crawling on me.¡±

    Mirian moved away, because she didn¡¯t want the absolute jackass paying her any more attention. Once again, she had a conundrum. She could analyze the marks, and try to decode Specter¡¯s message to herself, but that risked Troytin realizing who she actually was. Specter must have had some trick she was using to make him sit still so she could work.

    But how much could she have really determined? Each cycle she has to first relearn what she discovered.

    She considered wiping his soul clean of the marks. And yet, if Specter was dead, her progress would halt, so what was the risk in leaving them?

    She was being indecisive, she knew. But it wasn¡¯t at all easy to tell what the best path forward was. She heard General Hanaran¡¯s voice, saying, ¡°If your enemy is making a mistake, let them.¡± She decided to keep to that path for now. It at least kept the other ones open if she changed her mind.

    The interrogation continued, though she could tell Ada¡¯s patience was being tested, and Krier¡¯s patience was completely run out. It didn¡¯t seem he was stupid enough to reveal anything of note. Mostly, he spewed threats. After a while, he grew bored of that, and grew silent. He ignored the questions, leaned back in his chair, and said, ¡°Oh, whatever. Just kill me or something. Or better yet, just wait a few days, and find out what happens to you. Scurry along now, little ants.¡±

    Ada kept her face from showing emotion. Krier couldn¡¯t help himself. He slapped Sulvorath across the face before he left.

    The interrogation was clearly over for the day, and Mirian met with Ada and Krier in the next room. She cast muffle sound as a precaution, even though the doors were already warded to be soundproof. ¡°We¡¯ll hook up one of the Akanan communicator spell engines to a simple sound transference artifact that we¡¯ll hide in his cell. Listen in. I doubt he¡¯ll reveal anything, but it¡¯s worth a shot. Holy One, how do Troytin¡¯s, uh, interesting beliefs, we¡¯ll call them, line up with the Church of the Ominian doctrine?¡±

    ¡°That little rat. I hope he learns some manners.¡± Krier gave an angry glance at the door, then unclenched his jaw with some effort. ¡°There¡¯s no single Church of the Ominian. They all have a commitment to several key doctrinal points, and commitment to the break with the Luminate Order. The priests are all inducted into the Order of the Ominian. But after that, interpretation is left up to the second rank priests who oversee their group of churches. A group can be a single church, or it can be dozens or hundreds. He¡¯s obviously from a Third Adventist church. They believe there were only two genuine prophets, and the world still awaits the coming of a third prophet. That third prophet will unite the world, and expel the heretical orders.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°A nice little holy crusade. I bet those prophecies don¡¯t say anything about multiple prophets springing up at once,¡± Mirian said, conjuring Eclipse into her hand. Ada and Krier both gazed at the blade.

    ¡°Ah. Ah. No. No they do not.¡±

    Ada chimed in. ¡°There¡¯s a cultural component. Most Akanans are strongly individualistic and fiercely competitive. And proud of that. Troytin appears to be no exception.¡±

    ¡°You still have my list of questions to try?¡±

    ¡°We do,¡± Ada said. ¡°We¡¯ll interrogate him, and we¡¯ll try to get the Akanan spies to tell us what he told them.¡±

    ¡°Good. Some of the Akanan spies will be more cooperative. Especially Idras, if you can play to his patriotism. Meanwhile, Torrviol should evacuate across the lake. There¡¯s no way General Hanaran¡¯s division makes it up here in time, not with the train being melted to the tracks. I doubt he¡¯s figured out a way to launch the invasion early, so we still likely have until the 28th.¡± Mirian turned to leave, already starting to disassemble the soul-bindings on herself. If she could be in her own body for a few days, it would be a nice relief.

    ¡°Ah¡­ what he said. About my family,¡± Ada said.

    Mirian turned. ¡°I have a plan to stop him. Don¡¯t worry. Either of you.¡±

    It was silly to worry about one madman¡¯s threats when the world was going to end. For all Mirian knew, Ada¡¯s family got blown apart by an eruption by the leylines. But none of them needed any more hard truths right now. They needed to be assuaged. She could do that for them.

    Mirian left.

    The Akanans were bringing the perfect opportunity to study an airship right to her door, and she had preparations to make.

    ***

    ¡°¡­and that¡¯s how you make a ¡®seed of chaos,¡¯ Mirian finished telling the group of artificers.

    One of the artificers looked up at her. ¡°That¡¯s terrifying,¡± he said. ¡°This takes almost no materials. Anyone could make this if they knew the glyphs. Even a novice!¡±

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s why levitation glyphs are banned. Any questions? No? Great. The good news is, we have all the fossilized myrvite you could want, and I doubt we¡¯ll run out of copper wire. If the inks run low, there¡¯s some myrvites in the Studies building. Just let me know if you need to kill them, because I¡¯d like to charge my soul repositories with them. Have fun!¡±

    Mirian had practiced mobilizing Torrviol enough that falling back into it felt natural. Soon enough, the temporary spellwards would be finished, and the people that wanted to evacuate would get their few days of peace across the lake. It was just a nice thing to do for them. Irabi would approve.

    Her primary objective was to board the Republic¡¯s Justice and access the engine room. The engine room would not be easy to get into¡ªshe¡¯d never once done it in the previous cycles¡ªso she needed to make sure both airships were far too busy to worry about her.

    She made her way back to her dorm room. Her dorm room. She¡¯d had to clean the bog lion hair out. When she saw Lily, though, she knew the cleaning could wait.

    ¡°Hey,¡± she said to Lily. ¡°Want to go for a walk? I¡¯ve missed you.¡±

    Lily had been crying, she could tell, but she was trying to hide it. ¡°Y-yeah. Let me just grab¡­ oh we can go now. I can always use a warmth spell.¡±

    They walked for a bit, taking the winding paths past the dorms. For all the loops she¡¯d been through, she wasn¡¯t sure what to say to her roommate. ¡°I¡¯m sure you heard we captured the other time traveler.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Valen caught me up on a bunch of stuff. I think she probably exaggerated some of it. You know how she is.¡±

    ¡°At least half of it was probably true.¡± Mirian saw a few students passing them. They looked frightened of her. ¡°He¡¯s not really saying anything useful.¡± There was another lull in the conversation as they passed under the old trees and entered the grove. ¡°He¡¯s not as cunning as I first thought. Maybe he got overconfident. It¡¯s annoying. I want him to¡­ I want to make him suffer, like he did me. Get him some proper justice. But if I do that, it¡¯ll alert him to what I¡¯m doing. So I have to wait. So that when I do take care of him, it¡¯s for good. Then he never gets to hurt anyone again.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± Lily said.

    Mirian thought back to her first encounter with him. How scared she¡¯d been. Now, she knew she could handle him. His reported spell power was below hers, and he¡¯d been easy to pin down and imprison. Another memory sprang up as she was reflecting.

    ¡°When I was young, our cat used to hunt bone rats that liked to nest in the nearby farms. Sometimes, I would watch it hunt, and it would hide in this one bush, then spring out of it and instantly get a claw on their throats, where there was no bone armor, then bite down. The rats died immediately. That cat must have been the ultimate terror to them.¡±

    Lily was silent. It was late enough that the shadows were growing long.

    ¡°Only, that cat was the biggest dummy ever. It ran into walls all the time. Sometimes it¡¯d be walking from one room to another and it¡¯d just trip over nothing. It had figured out that bush was a good spot, so it hid in the same one every time. When Sulvo¡ªnah, I¡¯m gonna call him his real name, because it¡¯s a stupid name. When Troytin first started attacking me, I had no idea where he¡¯d come from. He was like a nightmare. But now I see it was only because he¡¯d done so much reconnaissance first. I wonder how many cycles he¡¯d been stalking me before he struck. Dozens? More? Gods, he would have seen me back on the 5th loop when I tricked my way onto the airship for the first time.¡±

    They walked quietly, Mirian appreciating the way the evening light scattered in the canopy above. Lily had her eyes fixed on the path. ¡°You never told me you had a cat. What happened to it?¡±

    ¡°A bone rat finally got it. At least, that¡¯s what my mom thought. There was this trail of blood, where the cat had dragged itself from the fields to our door. Then¡­¡± Mirian narrowed her eyes. Shit. What was that cat¡¯s name? And she had the strangest memory of the cat, walking around again. Maybe it hadn¡¯t died? But as soon as she started trying to remember, the scenes and flashes evaporated, and it was like she was trying to grasp a shadow. That damn memory curse again. She had to steady her breathing.

    ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re not scared of him anymore,¡± Lily said. ¡°I mean, the time traveler. Not your cat. Sorry about your cat.¡±

    Mirian saw that Lily was starting to shiver, and cast a warmth spell on both of them.

    ¡°Oh. Thanks.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s still¡­ he¡¯s scary because he¡¯s unhinged. Rabid. I¡­ I saw him in the earlier loops, before I realized who he was. Marshal Cearsia¡¯s assistant. He tried to stop her from blowing up the Divine Monument once. What I worry the most about is¡­ what if he wasn¡¯t always like this? What if the time loop eroded all his morals?¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Lily said. ¡°But if he stalked you for that long, it didn¡¯t really take that long for him to go from nice to nasty, did it? I dunno. There¡¯s some people who, laws and stuff are the only thing holding them back. Take that away, and maybe you¡¯re just seeing who he was on the inside all along. Or, I mean, maybe he was okay as a kid. People aren¡¯t born messed up. But something along the way¡­ you know. He probably was a violent asshole before the loop, is what I¡¯m saying.¡±

    Mirian smiled. ¡°Maybe. Thanks, Lily. It¡¯s¡­ good to see you. I don¡¯t get to talk to you much anymore.¡±

    Lily swallowed. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ so weird. One day, you wake up and go to class like normal. The next day, you¡¯re a Prophet! You can fly! And summon swords! And¡ªand... it¡¯s just a lot to suddenly lose your best friend in an instant like that.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°Valen said you went to Frostland¡¯s Gate.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that was a while ago. Beatrice is doing fine,¡± Mirian said. ¡°She said to say hi.¡± She¡¯s labyrinthine horror food right now, Mirian thought, but didn¡¯t say. Lily didn¡¯t need to hear that. ¡°I wish I could say something more comforting at the start of the cycles. I just¡­ I don¡¯t know what to say.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know either. What can you say though? It¡¯s the kind of thing that simple words aren¡¯t enough for. And I feel useless. I hate feeling useless.¡±

    ¡°I wish I could be there for you, every cycle. But I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Lily said. ¡°I wish I could¡­ wish a lot of things. I mean, I feel guilty because right now you could be doing something to save the world, and I feel like I¡¯m stealing from that.¡±

    Mirian looked at her roommate, and her heart broke. She gave Lily a hug, and her roommate burst into tears. She held her until her trembling had calmed.

    Lily sniffed. ¡°Oh gross, I got snot on your jacket. I¡¯ll¡ª¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Don¡¯t worry about it. Just¡­ never think you¡¯re wasting my time. Friendship is one of the things that makes life worth living.¡±

    Mirian started telling her about Beatrice and some of their adventures together up in Frostland¡¯s Gate. They walked until it started to grow dark.

    ¡°Tomorrow, take one of the boats across the lake. And do something nice for yourself, okay?¡± she told Lily.

    ¡°I will. Promise. And¡­ take care of yourself.¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± Mirian said, and gave her a sad smile.

    ***

    Three days later, Magistrate Ada gave Mirian her last report on the second time traveler. ¡°Not much, I¡¯m afraid. Before we executed him, he just reasserted his special status and reiterated we were all going to die. There¡¯s a transcript of his rants,¡± she said, handing over the stack of papers. ¡°But I wouldn¡¯t waste your time. Anyways. The last boat is leaving.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. If all goes to plan, you¡¯ll have a few days. I¡¯d spend them playing games and sharing good food and conversation with friends.¡±

    Ada looked at her. ¡°Make sure you stop him. A man like that¡­¡±

    ¡°I will. Go.¡±

    Ada departed, and Mirian surveyed the town. Torrviol was largely deserted, except for a few people who had refused to evacuate, and Mirian finalized her preparations. She had herself, her gear, and, thanks to the artificers of Torrviol, several hundred modified seeds of chaos laid out across the gardens.

    She looked to the sky. It would be a few hours before the Akanans arrived. She crossed her legs and began to meditate.

 Chapter 128 - Delicate Engineering

    A small artifact at Mirian¡¯s belt let out a chime and began to glow. That¡¯s the divination ward tripped. The forward elements are here, she knew. Probably the two recon companies of the 24th Brigade. Four more companies of four other brigades would be advancing carefully but quickly around the city.

    Mirian sent out a pulse of arcane energy that was tuned to her modified seeds of chaos. One hour until they activate, now. Each of the spell engines would be burning minuscule amounts of fossilized myrvite until the timers went off. Then they¡¯d all take to the air.

    She levitated to the roof of the Myrvite Studies building, and crouched down, rechecking her gear. She¡¯d re-bound her soul so that she appeared to be Akanan, and had one of the town¡¯s tailors make her a replica uniform. Beneath the uniform, she had all four pieces of orichalcum, as well as several pieces of steel armor over silk padding that would absorb the impact of bullets she managed to slow down. There were two soul repositories, now fully charged with myrvite souls. She¡¯d redone the binding on her spellbook to resemble the standard issue Akanan military design, then used cloth armguards to bind her key wands to her forearms: levitation, greater lightning, magnetic shield, force shield, greater force blade, and magnetic detonation. The rest of what she needed would be in her spellbook. She was still vulnerable to magebreaker ammunition, but though those pierced force shields, magnetic shields could still slow them, if not stop them entirely.

    Finally, she had two mana elixirs, an arcanometer, and several other artificer¡¯s tools. She also could plausibly pass as a 7th Airborne engineer since she already knew their countersigns and chain of command. She doubted the other time traveler had bothered to convince an entire army group to change up their pass phrases or infiltration protocols for this sort of contingency.

    Mirian had also gotten a brief refresher on Eskinar from her former tutor, making sure her accent was at least passable. The good news was, Akanans had fairly pronounced regional accents, and so someone from the western reaches of the country might plausibly speak like her. Plausibly. Ideally, she would have few conversations.

    She kept herself huddled to the building roof, watching as two divisions swept into Torrviol, rapidly clearing buildings. There was some scattered gunfire as they encountered some of the civilians who had refused to flee. Some were taken prisoner.

    Most were just executed.

    There was something at work there that Mirian couldn¡¯t comprehend. The Akanans were able to dehumanize their enemies with a rapidity and completeness that seemed like it should have been impossible. What do they tell the soldiers before they come here?

    Soon enough, the airships came into view. Mirian cast her night camouflage spell, then levitated up. As long as she approached the airships from above, the evening light and overcast sky would still hide her.

    Mirian flew into the air, letting the cold air shear away any fatigue she felt. Again, there was that strange nostalgia. For years, she¡¯d felt like winning the Battle of Torrviol was this critical thing. Now, it was just another catastrophe, one she could ignore or embrace as needed. The wind whipped at her as the colossal airship grew in front of her. Even after all this time, the size of it felt unreal. She soared above it, then let the behemoth pass by. She could make out the people below, working feverishly on the deck. The cranes were getting ready to deploy an assault squad on top of Bainrose.

    A chill ran through Mirian that wasn¡¯t the wind. That¡¯s why I could never get them to lift me up on the crane again, even in disguise. Troytin would have alerted them after he saw me. She watched as the soldiers donned the harnesses attached to the ropes. Meanwhile, spotters on the foredeck scanned below for any sign of resistance. He started working against me almost immediately, then. Specter probably hasn¡¯t been a good influence on him, but he made his decision to fight early. She shook her head. Why did the Ominian choose such a fool?

    The aft deck had few crew on it. Mirian picked a spot that had enough of the ship¡¯s superstructure around it to create cover, then descended. She matched her speed to the ship¡¯s, then landed gingerly and dismissed the camouflage spell.

    Her disguise needed no illusions, and took no mana. Her auric mana was still abundant. The seeds of chaos should be deploying.

    She hurried down below decks, passing two crewmen. They gave a brief, ¡°sir,¡± acknowledging her rank above them, but otherwise paid her no notice. Everyone was too busy, and really, who expected infiltration while they were in the air? Of course, how can the people of Torrviol simultaneously be so nefarious they need to be gunned down and so stupid as to have no defenses or contingencies?

    As the Might of Liberty dropped the first round of soldiers onto Bainrose, Republic¡¯s Justice circled above to provide cover. That brought them down to low elevation, and it lowered their speed significantly.

    That made them easy targets for the seeds of chaos. The tiny spell engines would be activating a glyph sequence telling them to seek out the biggest source of arcane energy they could detect, and to plummet towards it. As soon as the devices received the shock of kinetic energy from the crash, that would trigger another glyph sequence that would ignite what remained of the fossilized myrvite, which in turn would rupture all the glyphs and cause an explosion. It wasn¡¯t nearly as deadly as a spellfire shell, but it would certainly do damage.

    Mirian was well below decks when she heard the first crack! It sounded like a distant gunshot. Then it was followed by another. Then another.

    Then the sounds came with the frequency of rain. ¡°We¡¯re under attack!¡± she heard someone shout.

    Panicked calls soon erupted all over. People started running through the halls as alarm klaxons sounded throughout the ship. More explosions echoed from above, and suddenly the ship jerked to the side, slamming her against the wall.

    Mirian recovered and continued to the engine room.

    Two guards stood by the thick steel doors. Mirian shouted, ¡°We¡¯re under attack! Command¡¯s been hit and the stabilization wings are heavily damaged. Damage control just ordered me here to give the team details so the emergency systems can keep the ship in the air.¡±

    The guards looked worried. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know! It was quiet, nothing sighted, then all of a sudden, spellbombs everywhere! Countersign is ¡®forges of Ferrabridge,¡¯ Captain Thalia didn¡¯t give me anything else.¡±

    The first guard looked at the second. He shook his head. ¡°We can¡¯t. Relay the message to the crew inside through comms¡ª¡±

    The ship shook again, and the list grew heavier.

    Mirian infused her voice with as much panic as she could muster. ¡°Comms to the engine room is down! The team needs an accurate damage report or this ship is going into the ground!¡±

    ¡°We should¡ª¡±

    ¡°Negative. We can activate the door communication glyph array.¡±

    ¡°Oh. That would work,¡± Mirian said, and waited for the second guard to turn his back. Then Eclipse materialized in her hand.

    The first guard had time to say, ¡°What th¡ª!¡± Then Mirian¡¯s rapier was through his throat, through the spinal column, and out the other side. The blade pierced through the chain links and bone like a needle going through cloth. At the same time, she sent a greater lightning spell into the second guard, so that as he turned to face her, he was seized by electricity. He went to his knees, skin sizzling, then face planted on the ground.

    Mirian checked their bodies for glyph keys, but there were none. Probably, they had to communicate an authorization code and the door only opened up from the inside. The commander of the ship might have a glyph key, but he would be on the bridge, and there were a lot of soldiers and a great deal of fire that way.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    There was always another way to open a door.

    Mirian started with several magnetic detonation spells on the hinges. The door shook, but there were already alarm klaxons, and the ship was already shaking. Then she lobbed a few fireball spells behind her so that anyone coming down the hall would be slowed down or repelled by the flames.

    With the door weakened and her back covered, Mirian telekinetically flipped through her spellbook to find kinetic push.

    The door groaned as she pushed, the steel warping. She paused, and cast several more magnetic detonations along the frame, then resumed, heaving as her mana poured into the spell. She could just make out panicked shouting beyond the door, but the sound of metal screeching overcame it. Smoke was starting to fill the hallway, so she cast a quick filter air spell before resuming her assault on the door. With one last push, it came crashing down, shaking the hall.

    Beyond the door was a massive spell engine, unlike any she¡¯d seen before, and several engineers. She didn¡¯t get a count, because gunfire erupted in front of her, and she had to rush to hide to the side of the hall.

    As smoke rushed from behind her into the engine room, Mirian cast force shield, then magnetic shield, then ran into the room. There was more gunfire, and she used the muzzle flashes to locate her quarry, slicing up the two offending engineers with quick force blade spells.

    There were three more engineers she could see, interrupted from monitoring the engine by her incursion.

    ¡°It¡¯s just one person?¡± one of them asked.

    ¡°Lieutenant¡ªwhat are you¡­ what¡¯s going on?¡± shouted another.

    ¡°Can we do this peacefully, or do I need to cut off a few more heads?¡± Mirian asked.

    When one of the engineers pointed a wand at her, Mirian brought up Eclipse. The force spell¡ªwhatever it had been¡ªdissolved on the mythril blade.

    Mirian decapitated him before he could cast anything else. ¡°Anyone else?¡±

    The Akanans looked at her in frozen terror. She would have felt bad, but she was pretty sure none of them had felt bad about laying artillery fire down on civilians.

    ¡°Good. Go stand over there, and I won¡¯t harm you.¡± The two engineers cautiously walked over to the wall, where Mirian used force shackles to bind their hands to the pipes. Then she telekinetically lifted the steel door back in place and used incineration beam to spot weld it closed. It wouldn¡¯t be hard to take down, but it would delay anyone from coming in.

    Detect life told her there were two more engineers hiding in the back.

    ¡°You two. Come on out,¡± she said. ¡°Go stand with the others.¡± She shackled them too. Then she began to study the engine. ¡°So how does it work?¡± she asked.

    The engine was three times as tall as she was, and significantly longer. Though they had protective sheaths on them, she could see dozens of large vitreous crystals extending out into the walls. From the blueprints, she knew those conduits were providing arcane energy to the other subsystems.

    ¡°Please don¡¯t kill me,¡± was the only response she got. ¡°I have a family.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, so do all the people down there,¡± she said, gesturing to the floor. ¡°Never stopped you from bombarding Torrviol or refugee convoys.¡±

    One of the engineers went wide-eyed. ¡°We would never¡ª¡±

    That made Mirian¡¯s temper flare. ¡°I watched you do it!¡± she snapped. ¡°I was one of those refugees. I begged for mercy, and never received an ounce of it from any of you Akanans. You are monsters, all of you. Don¡¯t pretend otherwise.¡± She stood in front of the engineer, eyes blazing. He finally shut up. He was trembling.

    Good, she thought.

    She circled the engine, opening up panels, then scribbling diagrams and summaries in her notebook.

    ¡°What do you want from us?¡± one of the engineers finally said, interrupting the silence.

    ¡°I already told you. I want to know how it works.¡± She paused. ¡°I¡¯m also taking advice on how that door is supposed to be opened.¡± Mirian used a magnetic pull to yank on a conduit assembly above her.

    ¡°God! What are you doing?¡± one of the engineers asked in alarm.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯m taking apart the engine to learn how it works,¡± Mirian said. ¡°If any of you have a better way¡­?¡± As far as she could tell, the Akanans were using the idea she¡¯d thought of with four points of lift; two on the hull, and two distributed across the stabilizing wings. She¡¯d need to study how the lift force was distributed across the wings. Presumably, the arcane force was diffused, then transmuted, but she had no idea how to do that.

    Even with the clever efficiency designs, the amount of fossilized myrvite they should be burning had to be extraordinary. Her estimations on how much they¡¯d need to take a ship this weight across the Rift Sea and inland to Torrviol¡ªeven if it was launched from the coast¡ªwas still too high. Her rough estimations told her they would need a second mass the size of the ship purely of fossilized myrvite. And while there were smaller, secondary spell engines in the ship burning the magical fuel, the main engine didn¡¯t seem to be using any at all.

    What¡¯s the energy source?

    She pulled another set of metal plates off the engine, exposing another set of complex glyph sequences.

    ¡°You have to stop. You¡¯ll die too,¡± said one of the Akanans.

    ¡°I¡¯ve died before. You get used to it,¡± Mirian said absentmindedly. These sequences aren¡¯t antigravity. They¡¯re not using levitation at all, she realized. The ship is connecting through the arcane dimension to something. The lift force is attached to that.

    The two largest conduits were blocking a piece of the engine. Orichalcum wiring. Interesting. But it¡¯s not attuned to anyone¡¯s soul, so it won¡¯t be a problem. She started to remove them.

    ¡°I¡¯ll¡ªI¡¯ll help!¡± one of the engineers shouted.

    ¡°You can¡¯t!¡± another shouted, though it wasn¡¯t clear if they meant he couldn¡¯t help or, or she couldn¡¯t remove that section of the engine.

    ¡°What¡¯s the energy source?¡±

    ¡°The leyline,¡± the helpful engineer said.

    Mirian cocked her head. ¡°Impossible,¡± she said. Then added, ¡°for humans. You found¡­ oh that¡¯s interesting. Has Akana Praediar been raiding the Labyrinth¡¯s Vaults?¡±

    ¡°Yes! Yes, if¡ª¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t tell her!¡± another said. ¡°We took oaths. We¡¯re sworn¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªif she removes those conduits we¡¯ll die! She¡¯s not going to make it out of here anyways, she¡¯s trapped in here and¡ªyes! The spell engine connects to one of two divine artifacts. You¡¯re not going to be able to understand how it works because no one understands how it works. All you¡¯re going to do is kill us¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªSoren shut up!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m trying to save our lives and the lives of all the crew! If we just delay her¡ª¡±

    ¡°Well now you¡¯ve told her you¡¯re delaying so¡ª¡±

    Mirian used a muffle sound spell on the most annoying engineer and said, ¡°I¡¯m fine being delayed. How do the energy dispersal sequences work?¡±

    ¡°It can¡¯t be replicated anyways,¡± the engineer named Soren said.

    ¡°As long as you¡¯re talking, I¡¯m not ripping apart the engine. But if I get bored¡­¡±

    Soren launched into a conceptual explanation of the engine. The analogy he used was to think of the ship as using magnetic repulsion to keep itself aloft. ¡°The leyline is like the positive side of a magnet, and the artifact creates a field that replicates that positive side. So, repulsion. Like a magnet. Only, the arcane force has four polarizations that are constantly rotating, but somehow the artifact stays synchronized with the same energy the leyline is using. We call it the leyline tether, though since it only exists in the arcane fifth spatial dimension, we¡¯re deducing its existence from the math behind it. Anyways, to keep the ship stable above the leyline, the trick is just to spread that field out. That¡¯s why the ships can only fly above a leyline. It also requires constant adjustments based on the position of the ship relative to the leyline.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re going to get court-martialed,¡± one of the other engineers said.

    Soren snapped, ¡°For saving the whole damn ship? Also, conceptually understanding how this thing works isn¡¯t going to help anyone build one.¡±

    Mirian stroked her chin and gazed at the assembly. That¡¯s a severe limitation on the airships. ¡°Did Archmage Tyrcast find a way to replicate the field?¡±

    The engineers were silent. Soren said, ¡°Rosen Industries services a lot of military contracts. That¡¯s all I know.¡±

    Mirian nodded. She thought of the Akanan airships falling out of the sky after the Divine Monument was blown. She¡¯d assumed it was because of the antimagic pulse, but even though it disabled glyphs temporarily, it wasn¡¯t like the one that hit Palendurio. The airships should have been able to stabilize. But if it caused the leyline to reroute¡­

    ¡°You should tell Marshal Cearsia not to blow up the Divine Monument below Bainrose. It causes a leyline energy surge, which in turn, moves the one under Torrviol far enough away from the airships that they crash. You know, if you all want to live,¡± she said. ¡°You might also mention that Troytin is dead, and that if Cearsia starts killing civilians, I¡¯ll come for her fucking head. If she wants to know.¡±

    She started to look at another sequence, but just then there was a loud crash as the steel door leading to the engine room toppled over. Behind it was the Akanan heavy response team, armed to the teeth.

    Mirian grinned as she faced them, and raised Eclipse in a salute.

 Chapter 129 - Breaking Through

    Mirian dismissed the force shackles holding the engineers to the wall as she cast her magnetic shield. She¡¯d need every bit of mana she could get.

    The Akanans started with a volley of force blades, reluctant to bring their full force to bear while she was standing next to the engine. The engineers were screaming something about not damaging it, while the heavy assault team was yelling about precision spells¡ªit all became jumbled, and when the cracks of gunfire started echoing about in the enclosed room, no one could hear anything but that.

    The force blades dissipated on Eclipse, as did a followup spell that was probably supposed to bind her. Mirian cast hide in shadows, then flipped to extinguish light in her spellbook. The spell shifted all visible light in the room deep into the infrared. Mirian then cast darkvision as she moved around the engine, using the armored conduits as cover.

    Panicked shouting followed, but the reason she¡¯d chosen the spell was she knew the heavy assault teams were poorly prepared for it. Battlemagi had diverse enough spells that they could either counter it, apply their own darkvision, or use a detect heat source spell in a pinch, but these were almost all sorcerers. Their specialized wands hit hard, but only had the single function.

    She cast greater lightning right at the center of the group, then immediately dropped to the floor. There was more gunfire, and several spells. Mirian crawled under a tangle of steel pipes, then got back up. She could see her spell had taken down at least one soldier, but there was an auramancer with them. The heavy assault team attacked again, laying down broad fire. A glyph panel nearby exploded, and the engineers¡¯ pleas for caution rose to a peak. Mirian felt several pings! on her armor, but her magnetic shield was doing the job. The problem she was going to run into was the mana drain; her aura was rapidly depleting.

    Mirian ran sideways and unleashed another greater lightning, this time coated with soul energy, then cast a succession of magnetic detonations in the midst of the group, causing their gun barrels to explode. The auramancer screamed and went catatonic as the foreign soul energy ravaged her, and two more soldiers dropped. Better, though, Mirian had taken out several of the rifles, and those soldiers were scrambling back.

    She advanced to the side of the door, pressing her back up against the wall. Then, she cast a greater illusion spell that resembled herself over by the engine and dismissed the extinguish light.

    ¡°There she is!¡± someone called as she had her illusion duck around the far end of the engine.

    ¡°Move to surround. Rifles company, hold fire. Precision spells only!¡± shouted the leader. In the darkened engine room, they missed the slightly darker shadow flanking them.

    Mirian waited for them to get farther into the room, then dismissed the illusion and cast muffle sound on the threshold. She rounded the corner, moving through the door into the hall. To the three men left standing there, it must have been a terrifying sight: Eclipse would have seemed to come out of a solid block of shadows, suddenly flashing forward and slicing right through their armor. When they tried to use direct attack spells on her, they had no effect.

    In three quick strokes, she¡¯d cut two throats and impaled a third. She left behind five members of the assault team who, thanks to the sound-dampening spell, didn¡¯t even realize their companions were dead behind them. She sprinted down the hall, then dismissed all her spells and quickly chugged a mana potion. The levitation, breaking down the door, sustained force shackles for five people, then rapid succession of high intensity spells, several of which she¡¯d needed to sustain, had nearly depleted her auric mana. Mirian caught her breath for a moment, then continued through the ship, making her way to the deck.

    If the airship had crashed because of her meddling with the engine, she would have been fine with it, but she was intensely curious about what would happen next.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening? Are you alright?¡± a soldier asked.

    ¡°Fine. Just got cut up a little. The assault team is dealing with a sorceress in the engine room,¡± Mirian said. ¡°They could use support.¡±

    ¡°The heavy assault team needs support?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Contact team two. And if you see an officer, we need two engineering teams heading towards it for repairs. I¡¯m gathering my team now.¡±

    The soldier rushed off, and Mirian continued.

    Topside, the deck and superstructure was covered in little blackened craters where the seeds of chaos had rained down. There were still teams running around making sure all the fires were extinguished and doing spot repairs. Meanwhile, spotters were using divination spells to peer into the dark sky, looking for more.

    Mirian headed to the aft deck, then hopped over the railing, plummeting silently for a few hundred feet, then activated her levitation wand.

    She noted that Torrian Tower had been split in half again by an artillery assault. Another constant. I still need to figure out why they find that tower such a threat, Mirian thought. They must have known it was empty. And they already have Luspire taken care of. So what is it?

    ***

    Four days later, Mirian used her arcane eye that she¡¯d originally learned from Viridian to monitor the Akanans on the far shore of the lake. She was pushing the extreme range of the spell to the point where even a single eye was incredibly draining on her auric mana, but she could make out the general trend of the army¡¯s activity.

    The Republic¡¯s Justice had landed for repairs, and workers were hoisting pallets of materials onto the decks while others swarmed about. Might of Liberty circled above the town lethargically like a watchful cloud.

    Across Torrviol, the army was digging trenches and fortifying houses as if they expected a counter-attack. The warehouses Troytin had prepared with supplies seemed to have satiated them, though. Smoke rose from the Academy¡¯s dining hall as they used the facilities. On the far side of town, she could just make out the dots of the distant vehicles that made up the logistical tail of the army.

    This becomes a forward supply base. While the Akanan navy sieges Cairnmouth from the west, Cearsia¡¯s army comes down the river and cuts off supplies from the east. They already expect to take Palendurio through General Corrmier¡¯s treason. With Cairnmouth cut off, they then occupy the heart of western Baracuel. Troytin shouldn¡¯t have bombed the train tracks, though. Hanaran¡¯s division is routed and annihilated when it¡¯s caught deploying to Torrviol. Now, it can hold up in Fort Aegrimere and prolong the siege.

    Mirian dismissed the arcane eye and brought her gaze back to the surround. Akanan scouting teams had found their town¡¯s encampment, but hadn¡¯t attacked. Either they¡¯d lost their taste for slaughtering civilians, or the journey through tangled forests and across the marshy river was just too inconvenient for the army to bother with. Or perhaps, Troytin had told Marshal Cearsia something that changed the way she was viewing this whole thing. Or maybe Mirian had made a credible enough showing that Cearsia actually was afraid of her.

    In truth, it was probably just too annoying to cross the wild terrain around the lake, though Mirian sort of hoped it was the last reason.

    ¡°Where do you want this?¡± an artificer asked her, gesturing to the leyline energy detector.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Right here. I need to put the celestial warding runes on it or it¡¯ll just fry.¡±

    He stared at her. ¡°You really¡­ you can just use celestial magic like arcane magic?¡±

    ¡°Basically,¡± she said, then waved him away.

    The Torrviol encampment was a bit of a mess. There hadn¡¯t really been a plan as it was being established, so while in some places the tents and temporary shacks were in grids, many of them were haphazardly strewn about. The good news was, there were a lot of arcanists from all the students, and so they¡¯d quickly carved out latrines and used shape wood to turn some of the nearby forest into the structures they¡¯d need. Some of the spellward engines from Torrviol now kept the wildlife at bay.

    It was a messy little refugee camp, but everyone was alive, and at the very least, they could commiserate together.

    Past noon, Mirian found herself neurotically checking the Divir moon for movement. She already knew it wouldn¡¯t fall yet because the Monument was intact, but it was a habit at this point. The auroras above were weak, indicating leyline activity still had a few days before it peaked. How many days, she was eager to find out.

    ***

    On the afternoon of the 6th of Duala, the Republic¡¯s Justice lifted off. The spectacle was visible from their position across the lake. The day was overcast, the high clouds pregnant with snow flurries that had been coming down off and on.

    Then, the airship suddenly halted midair.

    Mirian¡¯s leyline detectors went berserk. She rushed over to one to take a look at the readings.

    Across the lake, the Republic¡¯s Justice slammed into the ground, shaking the earth and sending out a plume of fire and arcane energy. The Might of Liberty followed, plummeting from around three thousand feet up. That crash sent people sprawling from the impact as a colossal fireball erupted in Torrviol. A shockwave that raced across the lake smashed into the boats lining the shore, causing several lines to snap and battering the smaller boats. Several poorly constructed tents collapsed.

    The sky brightened as an orange and violet aurora filtered through the heavy clouds, glittering off the snow on the ground.

    People gathered to watch, but Mirian kept her eye on her leyline detector. Jei was analyzing the southern detector, while Professor Endresen and two of her apprentices were analyzing data from the eastern detector. The data wasn¡¯t as easy to analyze without the visualization artifact she¡¯d found down in Palendurio, but with that as a baseline, she could make sense of at least some of the data as she compiled it.

    They brought together the results into one of the student-crafted shacks, where Mirian laid it out on some broad tables that weren¡¯t quite flat.

    Respected Jei started finding correlative points in the data, while Professor Torres worked with a team of artificers to create the illusionary visualizer that Mirian had described.

    Professor Endresen soon joined them. ¡°Absolutely fascinating phenomena. I mean, it was theorized that leylines could move, but getting actual data on one? What a treat!¡±

    Mirian raised an eyebrow at her. The leyline shifting meant the world was about to end. But, she had told people who asked to enjoy what time they had left, and she supposed this was what Endresen enjoyed.

    ¡°Ah, I just wish we had proper tools to take readings on this stuff. For future reference, my arcane physics lab is on the third floor of Torrian Tower. I suppose it might be intact, but I suspect the Akanans won¡¯t let me access my research notes,¡± she continued. ¡°I usually am doing research on the microscopic things, including the microstructures of glyphs. Sadly, funding got cut for a lot of the leyline research, so our geoarcanology department is tiny, and it¡¯s all staffed by industrialists who think the entire purpose of the profession is to find new fossilized myrvite deposits. Sad state of things. I don¡¯t remember who was working on leylines before the coin evaporated, but I at least know some of the basics of the field. Do you know what to make of these smaller seismic readings?¡±

    ¡°Nope. Only just started really looking into this a few cycles ago. I¡¯ve been¡­ busy.¡±

    Endresen tapped her chin. ¡°Do you think it¡¯s the Labyrinth rearranging itself?¡±

    Mirian stood back from her work. ¡°Huh. What¡¯s the relationship between the Labyrinth and the leylines?¡±

    ¡°The Elder Gods have something to do with both of them. Otherwise, no one knows. One paper I read theorized the leylines are traveling through the Labyrinth¡¯s lowest layers. Others have said the Labyrinth parallels them. And still others think there¡¯s no correlation at all and people are just using insufficient data to draw inappropriately large conclusions. What an exciting opportunity you have, to find the truth.¡±

    Mirian couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°The Ominian should have stuck you with one of the time loop thingies. I¡¯d have made so much more progress by now. Say¡­ what are your theories on the Divir moon?¡±

    Endresen looked up at the ceiling. ¡°Well, it¡¯s been giving material physicists conniptions because it¡¯s one of the things their theory of gravity can¡¯t explain. But maybe their equations do describe gravity, and the Divir moon isn¡¯t being held up by gravity at all. An object that close to Enteria shouldn¡¯t be in geosynchronous orbit. I hope I¡¯m not stating the obvious, but maybe it has to do something with the leylines.¡±

    Mirian blinked. ¡°The Akanans found a device that can use the leylines to float their airships. Maybe the Elder Gods used it to¡­ put the Divir moon there.¡± Her brow furrowed. ¡°Though I don¡¯t know why they¡¯d do that, or why they¡¯d do it that way. But if the leylines shift out from under it¡­¡± She started laughing. ¡°That¡¯s it! All we have to do is find a way to stabilize the leylines.¡±

    Endresen looked at her.

    ¡°Oh Gods, how do you stabilize a leyline? Right now, all I know is ¡®don¡¯t destroy the Divine Monument.¡¯ Has anyone¡­?¡±

    ¡°Never. I think there was an Akanan archmage who went looking for a leyline once. All his tools melted as they got close, so they started digging it up with spells. Then the archmage got fried by some sort of arcane feedback. Sadly, no data on why that happened or the physics behind that since all the equipment was slag already, and all the researchers who were with him who didn¡¯t die went off to go get cleansed by the church instead of continuing the research.¡±

    Mirian tapped her chin. Endresen wasn¡¯t a leyline expert, but she did know enough research and arcane physics to be a great help. She needed more than a few days with her. ¡°Say, what sort of things might an Akanan transfer student need to say to get inducted into your research lab? What kind of skills might they need to demonstrate? Would Professor Jei vouching for them help?¡±

    ¡°Hmm. So let me tell you what we¡¯re working on¡­¡±

    Endresen explained some of the details about glyph microstructures, the lensing spells they were using to look at them, and the crystallography-adjacent classification system they were developing. As she talked, Mirian connected it to what she already knew. This might make celestial runes easier to produce and analyze too, she thought. And I actually know several novel glyphs from the Labyrinth. She was sure Micael could make a convincing argument without giving too much away. Which in turn, would let me get more insight as to what¡¯s going on in Torrian Tower, and what the Akanans are getting up to when they arrive.

    ***

    Mirian spent the rest of the evening collating data, then plotting the major movements on a map of Baracuel. She didn¡¯t even realize how much time had passed until Respected Jei brought her dinner. She hadn¡¯t even realized when her old mentor had left.

    She started muttering to herself as she looked over the results. ¡°No leyline breach down by the Casnevar Range. That means Palendurio probably is intact. But the leyline just moved.¡± Her eyes scanned the data. ¡°And there¡¯s that anomaly north of Alkazaria again. Strange.¡±

    She, Jei, and Endresen talked for another hour. Eventually, Jei and Endresen left to sleep. Mirian stayed in the shack, poring over paper readouts and graphs. That was where Lily found her.

    ¡°Hey,¡± she said.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Mirian said, swallowing hard.

    ¡°They say it¡¯s¡­ going to end soon.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Was it¡­ okay? These few weeks?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s hard for anything to be okay when you know¡­¡± Lily gestured vaguely outside. ¡°A lot of my classmates are in denial. They say the world can¡¯t end because¡­ you know, it just can¡¯t. And if it could, there was something they could do about it.¡±

    Mirian nodded. ¡°It¡¯s that feeling of powerlessness that¡¯s the worst part.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Lily said. ¡°I had to¡­ I had to spend some time and accept that. But then, the evacuation came, and there was all this stuff to do. It felt nice to be able to help out a little.¡± She snorted. ¡°You should hear the other students talk about you. It¡¯s all hushed whispers and rumors. They don¡¯t know you¡¯re secretly a huge dork.¡±

    She laughed. ¡°You still know me.¡±

    Those last few hours, Mirian didn¡¯t get any great insights. She could have spent it rechecking data, or plotting more energy surges. She could have probed Professor Endresen¡¯s brain for more physics ideas, or had Respected Jei go over more of the math.

    In the end, though, she just needed to chat with her friend. She found herself glancing southeast, to where Grandpa Irabi was, somewhere in the distance.

    Friendship isn¡¯t a distraction. It¡¯s a necessity. She could do this. Lily and the others were important to her. The time loop had undermined it, but so what? She would persevere, because it was worth it.

    The prelude to moonfall was different this time. With the skies overcast and the snow falling in flurries, the auroras and eruptions illuminated a pristine world of white. Violet, green and orange light sent the fields of snow glittering, and gave a strange depth to the flakes coming down.

    As the moon fell, those fields of white brightened, so it was almost like the world was being washed of its details, until the only thing left was a single color.

 Chapter 130 - Bloodleaf

    The next cycle, Mirian killed Specter again as soon as she had her initial supplies. It was simple: she waited until night, used a sound damping spell while she pried open the hatch magnetically, then levitated down the passage and cut her throat with Eclipse. She took several critical files from Specter¡¯s desk, then burned the rest.

    Her knowledge in glyph analysis got one Micael Nezzar a convenient position with Professor Endresen that took up two of her class slots. The work on glyph formation was fascinating, but it only reinforced the idea that she needed a permanent spellbook. Perfect glyph formation required patience and time, as well as the precision tools Endresen was using.

    Mirian took an illusions class from Marva so she¡¯d have an excuse to work with them again. The last class slot she filled with Professor Viridian¡¯s Myrvite Ecology 370. Funnily enough, she noticed Calisto was in the class, someone she hadn¡¯t thought about in a long time.

    With no Nicolus present, the girl was much more subdued.

    Troytin had managed to speed up the arrival of the Akanan delegation by a day, putting their arrival at the 7th of Solem. That still gave Mirian plenty of time to prepare, and with Torres helping her create divination listening devices modeled on the Akanan communicators, they would be able to pick up a great deal of conversations the Akanans thought were private. They hid the devices in the walls of the quarters the visiting professors had stayed in last time; Mirian got to work under Jei¡¯s direction using her various stone-shaping spells to cover up their work.

    ***

    By the 15th, it was clear that the hidden eavesdropping machines were interfering with the Akanan communication devices, often preventing transmissions, or making ghostly hissing noises. Torres pretended to go around ¡°fixing¡± the Akanan machines with Mirian, who disabled the key glyphs in her own hidden ones as the professor worked. She hoped it was enough to hide her involvement. Such an extensive espionage operation probably couldn¡¯t be dismissed as a hasty effort she¡¯d thrown together before departing. Better to hide her mistake and try again later to preserve the secrecy of her presence.

    Mirian hit the library, trying to figure out why the longwave beams of light the machines were using to send information would mess with each other. She had vague recollections of reading about something with waveforms in the book about magical telegraphs. Unfortunately, most of the most recent research was, once again, being done in Akana Praediar, and the books she found didn¡¯t answer her questions.

    Still, the setback hadn¡¯t halted the stream of information entirely. Troytin appeared to be trying to keep his ¡°Sulvorath¡± identity separate, since at least one of the professors, along with Marshal Cearsia, knew him from before the loop.

    Mirian learned what she could from Troytin¡¯s former professor.

    ¡°Troytin?¡± Professor Denton said to Marva one evening. ¡°Oh, I didn¡¯t know him all that well as a student. Never said much in class. But he¡¯s come into a lot more confidence, which is good to see. I was surprised when he got accepted into the military intelligence division program. It sounds romantic, sure, but they get up to some downright unpleasant things. Didn¡¯t realize he would have the stomach for it.¡±

    Marva had tried to get him to expound on the subject, but Denton had taken it to mean they wanted to know more about said unpleasant spy adventures and had proceeded to recount a frankly unbelievable tale about an operation in Persama where the Akanans had overthrown one of the local princes a few decades back. It sounded a lot more like one of the adventure thrillers Mirian had read back in preparatory school than anything that had actually happened.

    Next, Torres was able to get Archmage Tyrcast to reveal that, if the research with the Divine Monument went well, Luspire might be offered a position in Vadriach University.

    No surprises. Troytin knows he wants that. What she really wanted to know was what the Akanans thought they were getting out of the deal.

    On that, the visiting professors were much more circumspect. Professor Denton said, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s just wonderful to be able to further research on such a fascinating subject, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Over a different luncheon, Archmage Tyrcast said, ¡°What¡¯s most exciting is delving into the unknown. Who knows what we¡¯ll find?¡±

    Mirian might have bought the platitudes before the time loop, but there was no way that was the bait Troytin had used to assemble them all. She guessed that he¡¯d sold the Divine Monument as something more powerful and better understood than it actually was. But perhaps there was another more political aspect she was missing.

    She kept listening.

    Torres and Jei reported that the Akanan team was now subjecting the Divine Monument to all sorts of new devices and tests, to no real effect. They need celestial runes, and they need a second Monument, Mirian thought. If that was where Troytin was concentrating his efforts, he lacked the two crucial pieces of information needed to make progress. Mirian getting Specter out of the picture had been just in time. None of the Akanans seemed to be familiar with rune magic. To them, the markings would just appear to be strange, unfamiliar glyphs. Without a celestial focus, they¡¯d be unable to properly analyze them or recreate them.

    Akana Praediar does have people using runes, but they¡¯ve kept them separate too. Perhaps their spies and priests hold a monopoly on that power too.

    Mirian also thought she¡¯d been right about Specter being key to Troytin¡¯s quick control over Torrviol and expansion into the Deeps. The spies, the contacts¡ªit was all her network. She had the trust of her operatives. If the transcript of that first conversation had been any indication, Troytin had been relying heavily on her to actually write and send the messages.

    It was Valen of all people who saw Troytin entering the spy¡¯s first headquarters, the one by the train tracks. He came back out with a bag full of papers, chatting in Eskinar with Agent Idras. I¡¯ll target those next, Mirian thought. Even with memory tricks, there was only so much one could hold in their head. Then, she could destroy the wards by the derelict tower in the forest that the spies were using to send zephyr falcon messages. That would severely limit his ability to do anything in Baracuel, unless he actually left Torrviol. But he seemed to think holding the Divine Monument was critical.

    Most of the Akanans think it¡¯s a weapon. What did he decide it is?

    It had something to do with the control of the leylines, that much was clear. Perhaps it was the key to stopping all this¡ªbut then, what did Troytin gain from trying to eliminate other time travelers?

    It was still a mindset she had trouble understanding. Like Archmage Luspire, who was ruthless in shaping the narrative around himself, it annoyed Mirian that the aggressive mindset seemed to work. Archmage Tyrcast had, apparently, helped crush the competing spell engine manufacturers in Akana Praediar, so his guild-protected product now dominated the markets. Pontiff Oculo had spent decades politicking in the Luminate Order to reach the top.

    It wasn¡¯t even the ruthless aggression that baffled Mirian. By now, she¡¯d had to use that mindset enough. It was the ruthlessness with no purpose behind it she really couldn¡¯t comprehend. Fighting for oneself¡ªand nothing else¡ªfelt like an empty goal.

    ¡°The point is to make the world a better place,¡± her father had told her once. What was the point of power for power¡¯s sake?

    ***

    On the 19th, Mirian¡¯s network noticed the Akanan spies heading into the wilderness repeatedly and coming back with satchels full of something. Mirian thought it might be myrvite parts because they¡¯d run out of some critical ink for glyphs.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    It was the 22nd, and Mirian had already started her work on her leyline measurement devices. The Akanans had made up their excuses to depart, and this time, Troytin had left with them on the airship. Like before, Luspire had gone with them.

    She was deep in her work when one of professor Cassius¡¯s apprentices came running.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re the one, right? The¡­ I was told to get you. Micael, right?¡±

    Mirian nodded hesitantly. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    ¡°The Master¡¯s Hall. The dining hall for the professors. You¡­ you have to come! Quickly!¡±

    She threw down her tools and followed him, mind sorting through the possibilities. Troytin left already, and I watched him board the airship. Cassius hasn¡¯t been a part of our operations, but Torres is on good terms with him, and no one¡¯s reported the spies in contact with his apprentices.

    Still, she got ready to cast a shield all the same.

    When she got to the Master¡¯s Hall, she suddenly understood. Dozens of professors were lying on the ground, faces pale. There were pools of vomit, and the scent of iron permeated the air. She saw Jei staring blank-eyed at the ceiling, and Torres shaking on the ground. As Mirian quickly embraced her focus, she could already see that three of them were dead.

    Professor Viridian was one of the few sitting upright. He¡¯d pushed himself back up against a wall, and his eyes were darting around erratically, but he was conscious.

    ¡°What happened?¡± she asked.

    Viridian¡¯s face twitched. ¡°B-bloodleaf,¡± he managed to stutter, and then collapsed.

    Mirian¡¯s eyes went wide. Poison. That¡¯s what the Akanans had gotten up to. They¡¯d harvested the nastiest poison they could find, packed their satchels full of it, then just given it to everyone. Cassius¡¯s apprentices had been spared because he was a traditionalist who always made them eat after he was done.

    Mirian rushed over to Viridian, drawing from her soul repositories. If anyone would know how to reverse the effects of the plant, it would be him. Looking at his soul, the damage was everywhere. She visualized it as spreading black patches, except they were diffuse, and there were hundreds of them. She tried to reverse the damage, but she had no experience healing poisons. Viridian¡¯s life force faded in front of her eyes.

    She tried to save Torres next, but the damage was too widespread. Bloodleaf was a nasty poison. It was even more effective against arcanists than the general population, because the myrvite poisoned their own auric mana, degrading the mana type until their own aura was toxic to them.

    Cassius¡¯s apprentice stood there dumbly, and then he realized she couldn¡¯t save them and started to weep. ¡°How? Why¡­?¡± was all he managed.

    ¡°I know who did this,¡± Mirian whispered. A cold rage began to fill her. The Luminate priests arrived, led by Krier and Cassius¡¯s second apprentice, but Mirian was already out the door.

    She didn¡¯t bother to inform Magistrate Ada. She went straight to the false captain¡¯s office, ignoring the desk attendant¡¯s protests. She used a force blast to shatter the door, then decapitated him with a force blade while he was still drawing his pistol.

    She left through a window, levitating to the spy¡¯s headquarters. Two of the spies were stupid enough to still be inside it. She cut off their heads too, and let the building burn. Then she started hunting down the rest of them, one by one. The one acting as a train employee never knew what hit her. The mayor¡¯s assistant begged for his life, but only for a moment. Some of them tried to run, but that just left them out in the open where she could easily chase them down with levitation. The ones that hid took longer, but she knew every safehouse, every hiding place. The last ones she found hiding in the underground, but they couldn¡¯t hide from detect life. She stopped their bullets with a magnetic shield, then brought a column of flame down on top of them until they had as much flesh left over as Adria¡¯s skeleton in the catacombs.

    Her rage hadn¡¯t dissipated at all. What she really wanted to do was send a disintegration ray through Troytin¡¯s face. All she could see was that cruel smile of his when he¡¯d pretended to be Nicolus, and she wanted it wiped off the face of Enteria.

    Magistrate Ada found Mirian in the gardens, staring at nothing in particular.

    She¡¯d brought the entire Torrviol Guard.

    ¡°Are you going to come peacefully?¡± she asked.

    Mirian levitated her one of Specter¡¯s reports.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Ada asked. ¡°Where¡­ where did you get this?¡±

    She told her the quick and dirty version of the story. ¡°So the murderers of all the professors are dead,¡± she said. ¡°All except one.¡± Mirian ground her teeth, then said, ¡°I made a mistake. Now there¡¯s too much evidence I was here. The other time traveler can¡¯t be allowed to find it. Torrviol must be evacuated. You have five days.¡±

    The guards and magistrate stared at her.

    Mirian turned to one of the guards. ¡°Bertrus, you can cast a pretty good lighting spell. Go ahead and take a shot at me. Your best shot. Don¡¯t hold back.¡±

    Bertus kept his wand sheathed.

    ¡°Seneca was my friend too,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Do it for her. Do it!¡± she snapped, then stood.

    It was Roland who took the first shot, pulling his pistol and firing at Mirian¡¯s aggressive move. She held the bullet still with a magnetic shield, then let it fall to the ground.

    One of the guards tried to use a force binding spell, but she didn¡¯t even need to react to it. Her orichalcum-enhanced spell resistance caused the shackles to disintegrate upon contact.

    The standoff resumed. Even the birds had grown quiet in the garden.

    Mirian conjured Eclipse, and let them all get a good look at it. ¡°I¡¯m not coming peacefully, because none of you can actually stop me. Evacuate Torrviol to an encampment across the lake. I¡¯m blowing it up in five days. One day later, and the Akanans burn the town to ash and murder everyone anyways.¡±

    She levitated away.

    ***

    The Divine Monument wasn¡¯t exactly trivial to break into, but she had plenty of time. With High Wizard Ferrandus among the poisoned and Luspire gone with the Akanans and almost certainly dead, it wasn¡¯t like anyone was around to stop her, even with the alarm wards blaring. Celestial coatings helped her pierce the more troublesome spell engine-generated shields on the door, and then the room was open to her.

    Next, she started using the gift Troytin had left: a warehouse full of fossilized myrvite. She spent an entire day levitating pallets of the stuff down into the underground room. After that, she worked on finalizing her leyline detectors, then deploying them, this time south of the city.

    She set the spell engine in the Monument room to detonate on the 27th of Solem, while the Akanans would still be en route. She re-trapped the entrance, incorporating runic traps too, ones that would set off the spell engine bomb early. Hopefully, no one in Torrviol was stupid enough to test her threat.

    Eventually, the magistrate and the guards had come around as they investigated the material she¡¯d left them, especially as reports had filtered north of the war with Akana and the beginning of their invasion. That was just a matter of convenience for her, though. It just meant that she wouldn¡¯t have to watch her back as much.

    The day before the detonation, she flew south. She brought with her some rations from the same warehouse Troytin had stockpiled with fossilized myrvite. They, at least, wouldn¡¯t be poisoned. She camped out in the woods, repairing and then powering up an old wayfarer¡¯s obelisk so the myrvites would leave her alone.

    The explosion was as grand as it always was, and sure enough, the early detonation triggered an early leyline reroute. She hoped Troytin was on one of the airships when it fell out of the sky. She hoped the airships crashed down in the middle of the army convoys and the soldiers burned with them.

    She spent the rest of the cycle analyzing what data she could. There were significant differences. Either her artifacts had given her bad data, or the leylines were already in motion before the Divine Monument¡¯s destruction caused a larger reroute.

    Sure enough, the moon fell a day earlier than it normally did.

    ***

    Mirian got her supplies, killed Specter, then burned her hideout. She killed Agent Hache next so that the Torrviol Guard was free of his influence, then dropped off piles of incriminating documents over at Ada¡¯s office. While the Magistrate was looking those over, she triggered the traps in the spy¡¯s headquarters so their documents would all be incinerated. Then she scheduled Specter¡¯s dossier on Luspire to be sent to the Archmage by the Royal Couriers the day after the collaboration announcement.

    The next day, she destroyed all the zephyr falcon cages in the derelict tower, then informed Sire Nurea about the Deep¡¯s efforts to infiltrate the Cairnmouth Syndicate, and that Specter, who had blackmail on them, was dead. By the 4th, she felt she¡¯d prepared her allies in Torrviol enough for what to expect, and the Akanan spies were already being rounded up.

    She looted one of the fake gold ingots from the mayor¡¯s office, then headed down to Palendurio.

    Troytin could keep playing at his lunatic schemes and pointless murders. He could wallow about in Torrviol. She had better things to do than to watch his murderous flailing.

 Chapter 131 - The Isheer

    The Lowfort District of Palendurio turned out to be made up of a great deal of Persaman immigrants. A decade ago, they might have been welcoming and open. As the war with Persama had deepened, Baracueli citizens had trusted the people from that region less and less. Petty crimes and de facto segregation had made the Persmans wary of outsiders in return. No one she talked to actually sympathized with Dawn¡¯s Peace or the various rebellions. Most were, in fact, former allies of Baracuel who had resettled there because they¡¯d been allies, but they¡¯d had to hire their own people to act as guards nonetheless. With the southern time traveler set to siege Alkazaria, the wariness of outsiders was likely only going to get worse the longer she waited.

    Mirian hadn¡¯t paid much attention to the district in previous loops, and had no contacts there. She went around learning about where to find certain shops and who to talk to. Ironically, it was Mirian¡¯s transformation magic that impeded her ability to get information. As soon as she removed the bindings that had lightened her skin and hair, they opened up more. For once, being mistaken for a Persaman was going to be a benefit. They were also happy to speak Cuelsin with her, which was a nice change.

    First, she found a nearby apartment she could rent for the month. Then she bought a new dueling outfit and rapier for an exorbitant price, making it clear she was looking for someone who could really tutor her in dueling to anyone she talked to. She continued to overspend on clothes and meals until someone suggested Rostal Bedeu.

    ¡°But you¡¯ll have to convince him,¡± the man said, looking at her doubtfully. ¡°He has no time for wet sand.¡± She vaguely recalled the Persaman expression.

    ¡°Sure. Where can I find him?¡±

    ¡°The Sanctuary on Fifthday.¡± The man hesitated. ¡°You are Isheer?¡±

    ¡°No. Luminate.¡±

    ¡°Ah. You will have to wait outside the inner Sanctaury, then. The outer circles are open to all. You are welcome to attend and listen.¡±

    ¡°Do I really need to wait until Fifthday?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°He lives alone. He keeps no guests. He visits no pejuen. Maybe you can find him.¡±

    Pejuen, she knew, were the regular communal gatherings a neighborhood held, usually once a week after market day. She¡¯d learned about them in Madinahr when one of her friends had been surprised they didn¡¯t do them in Baracuel.

    She asked around a bit more, but either no one knew where Rostal lived, or no one wanted to tell her. To pass the time, she practiced her dueling forms and bladework in the apartment, then worked on her leyline detectors. Ideally, Troytin would die, but still prevent the Divine Monument from exploding so that she could get new data.

    On Fifthday, she headed to the Isheer Sanctuary.

    The Sanctuary was in the middle of the district. Long ago, Lowfort had been just that¡ªa small fortress linked by two walls to Charlem Palace and Ducastil so that the valley by the river had its own strongpoint. Several centuries later, the fort had been knocked down. Sometime after the Unification War, the Persaman mercenaries who had fought on the Baracuel side had settled there. They¡¯d torn down the houses on top of the rubble and replaced it with an Isheer Sanctuary and a park that surrounded it.

    The gardens around the park were meticulously cared for, though the winter months made for more shades of brown than green. Still, there were children playing ballgames on the lawn, or just running around chasing each other, while elders half-watched, half-gossiped. The children would behave while their parents were in the weekly ceremony, she knew. Her friend in preparatory school had told her that every child¡¯s worst fear was being disciplined by the elders during the prayers. Mirian had at first thought that meant they would get a spanking to remember, but no, it was a threat to the family¡¯s reputation, and they took that seriously. She supposed she sort of understood that. Family reputation had been important in Arriroba too.

    The building was a strange thing. It looked like it should be made out of sandstone and plaster, like so many of the famous structures in east Baracuel and Persama were, but it was made out of limestone and painted brick. It still had the vaulted arches and honeycombed ceilings common to those types of buildings, and the strange mix of architectural styles and materials made it feel alien amidst the other buildings surrounding it.

    The structure was open; it had no walls at all, only its complex ceiling supported by rows of evenly spaced pillars. In many ways, it was the opposite of the Luminate Temples that were designed to keep out unwanted light.

    In the middle of the Isheer Sanctuary was the inner dome, and just behind it, the single bell tower. The Isheer adherents were kneeling in prayer, eyes cast towards a statue of the Ominian. Behind that statue was a large, malformed block of obsidian. A rector, dressed in fine robes the colors of a sunrise, stood to the side of the statue. That was so he didn¡¯t block the worshiper¡¯s direct access to the Ominian, she knew.

    The rector leading the prayers was being watched by a Luminate Guard off to the side. He was there to make sure the Isheer didn¡¯t preach anything directly blasphemous. The Luminate Order was tolerant, but only to a point.

    The Isheer worshipers believed that the Prophets of the Luminates had no divine blessing, and therefore the institutions they founded¡ªlike the Luminate Order¡ªwere illegitimate. They believed that the Ominian was the singular Prophet, and it was They who interpreted visions of an even more remote singular God. While in Baracuel, however, they couldn¡¯t exactly just say that.

    That was about as much as Mirian knew. When she was young, she hadn¡¯t thought much about it. Now, the idea the Prophets were regular people doing their best was¡­ well, it made quite a bit of sense. The Ominian had given her dreams, but she had to interpret them. If all the Prophets were like her, then they all had their flaws and struggles. How did the Ominian pick who would join the time loop? she wondered, as she watched the prayers continue from a bench in the outer circle. I want to believe he had good reasons for who he chose¡­ but then why would he choose a monster like Troytin?

    The rector said a few words to those gathered. Mirian strained to listen, but some of the words sounded like nonsense. Is he speaking a mix of Adamic and Cuelsin? That had to be it.

    She could get the gist of his speech though: do right by your neighbors, and look around you for clues to taking the right path. ¡°We cannot see the shape of the whole world. It is beyond our ¡ª. But we can see the shape of our friends. The shape of our family. The shape of our ¡ª. That is enough.¡±

    That was literally true in that humans could not perceive the fourth arcane dimension where magic flowed, nor could they perceive the entirety of Elder Gods like the Ominian. It was much like trying to view the Divine Monument all at once.

    The rector led those gathered in a final prayer, then the Isheer rose and began to depart, and Mirian embraced her focus as they did. There was no rush to it. Most people began to gather in little circles, laughing and talking, while parents moved to sit by grandparents as the children continued to play. A few adults joined the children in their games, while couples wandered the garden, hand in hand.

    A deep longing settled over Mirian as she watched it.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Her attention was snapped to a man departing the inner sanctuary alone. As soon as she saw him, there was no question that he was Rostal Bedeu.

    If Liamar¡¯s soul was like white-caps in a windy sea, Rostal¡¯s was like the thunderous waves of a thousand-year storm. His casual walk was that of a predator. She could also see his muscles beneath his white silk shirt. His dark hair was peppered silver, but his face was more weathered than wrinkled. Damn, she thought.

    ¡°Master Rostal Bedeu,¡± she said, striding up to him. ¡°What do I need to offer you to get you to teach me?¡±

    Rostal kept walking, so Mirian started walking beside him. Unlike him, she didn¡¯t quite command the presence that caused crowds to part for him. His voice was deep, and his Cuelsin had an accent to it. ¡°How did you hear about me?¡±

    ¡°I was buying a new rapier and your name came up as one of the best.¡±

    Rostal considered that. His path took them into the tight cobble streets. With most of the locals still in the park, though, the streets were nearly empty. Since it was Palendurio, it still meant there were people everywhere, but less than usual. ¡°How did you identify me?¡±

    ¡°It was obvious,¡± Mirian said. It was too early in the cycle for her to start drawing attention to herself. Saying she had soul sight was the same as announcing she had a focus. The likelihood a Deeps contact was listening was low, but not zero.

    Rostal stopped and turned to face her. ¡°And what has the Ominian said to you?¡±

    Is this a test? Does he suspect I¡¯m a Prophet already? she wondered. Her first instinct was to say he had commanded her to save the world, but that wasn¡¯t quite right. There was only one command he had given; the rest was inference. ¡°To grow,¡± she said. ¡°The rest, I still need to figure out.¡±

    The large Persaman man frowned as he considered that. ¡°And what does it mean to grow?¡±

    ¡°To change. To become stronger.¡± Viridian¡¯s ecology lessons were on her mind. ¡°And to interact with the world around you. The flower that takes minerals from the soil might be taking away a poison for one plant, or needed nutrients for another. It might feed a sigil bee, or it might be the trap that lets a swift kill it. The tree that grows tall shelters many species, but also stops other trees from growing there.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± said Rostal. ¡°And what is it you wish to learn?¡±

    Mirian glanced around. ¡°To become stronger and faster. That is what I¡¯ll say in this place, publicly. In respect to both our secrets.¡±

    This time, Rostal looked at her. ¡°Hmm. I have decided. I will test you. Be warned. I do not abide laziness, nor excuses. Follow.¡± She seemed to have passed the first test of his.

    Rostral had what turned out to be a fairly expensive house. It had servant¡¯s quarters and extra bedrooms, but those were all empty when they passed them. The house was a two story hollow square, with a courtyard in its center.

    ¡°Wait,¡± he commanded, then returned shortly with a rapier. It glimmered in the sunlight. The basket hilt was woven in complex spirals of steel. ¡°Tell me,¡± he asked. ¡°Do you fear death?¡±

    ¡°Not anymore,¡± Mirian said truthfully. ¡°But I do fear an end.¡± She was hoping¡ªand assuming¡ªthat the man respected truth. Perhaps wisdom, too, though she wasn¡¯t sure how much of that she had.

    ¡°Let us test that. We fight to first blood. Hold back nothing.¡±

    He came at her like a whirlwind, though she could immediately tell he was holding back. She quickly parried his first thrust, then used distance to evade his follow up. Mirian sought to go on the attack, but his parries were lightning-fast and she quickly found herself on the defensive again.

    She circled around, making sure he couldn¡¯t pin her back to the wall, but he started moving to the side as he attacked, forcing her back into a corner.

    He said to hold nothing back, she thought. Let¡¯s test if he meant it.

    She had her arcane catalyst at her belt, so she used it to tap into her auric mana, putting a solid block of force in front of Rostral¡¯s feet, then using magnetic force to force his blade to go wide.

    For a moment, Rostral¡¯s eyes went wide. Then he reacted. With her focus, Mirian could see his aura flare, extending out farther from his body, while a plume of it engulfed his blade. Her raw magic¡ªnowhere near as potent as glyph magic¡ªdissipated, quickly enough that Rostral was able to recover and throw himself to the side so that Mirian¡¯s opportunistic cut missed him by a hair.

    That was fast. This isn¡¯t his first time fighting an arcanist, Mirian immediately knew. She sent a few more bursts of force toward him, trying to keep him off-balance, but his soul flared and he came in with such speed that it was Mirian¡¯s turn to stumble back. She tripped on the uneven paving stones and sprawled backwards, only just keeping her grip on her blade.

    Rostral¡¯s blade came down, then and she knew she wouldn¡¯t be in time to block it. She sent a wild thrust out toward his leg, hoping her counter-attack could draw blood before his swing did.

    He danced out of the way, his stroke continuing uninterrupted. Mirian felt a line of hot white pain as the blade cut through her cheek.

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Rostral said, examining her. ¡°You held back.¡±

    That was true. She could have used her soul repository to enhance her raw magic, though she¡¯d never exactly tried that before. She also could have used Eclipse instead of a steel blade. ¡°So did you,¡± she said, rising to her feet. For some reason, the words felt strange on her tongue. Maybe the fall had shaken her worse than she realized. She currently had a great deal of adrenaline coursing through her.

    ¡°So. You are not a liar, at least,¡± the blademaster said, sheathing his weapon in one quick motion. ¡°Why do you wish to learn from me?¡±

    ¡°I need to kill two greater labyrinthine horrors inside an antimagic room. Suppression field, not entropy field.¡± Of the two rooms in the Vault, she still thought it would be the easier one to pass.

    Rostral looked at her. ¡°I will not speak Cuelsin. Say it in Adamic.¡±

    Mirian stared at him. Adamic was the language of the Persamans. ¡°I don¡¯t speak Adamic,¡± she said.

    ¡°You were just speaking Adamic,¡± he said. ¡°And you understand the Adamic I¡¯ve spoken to you.¡±

    Her blood ran cold. ¡°What?¡± she asked. ¡°That¡¯s not possible. I think I¡¯d¡­¡± But then her mind fled back to her father, teaching her words because none of the other students in her elementary school could understand her. A memory surfaced of him patiently reciting phrases. They had been in Cuelsin.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± she said eloquently, and turned and smashed her fist into the wall behind her. Sharp pain shot through her fist, making her squeeze her eyes shut. Quickly, she drew from her hidden soul repository to heal the knuckle she¡¯d just broken, then healed the cut on her cheek as an afterthought.

    ¡°Sorry. I have¡­ missing memories. From when I was a child. I guess I just discovered another one.¡±

    Rostal shrugged. ¡°You do speak Adamic like a child. And your ¡ª is strange. Still, I will speak no other language. That is not¡ª¡± and then he said another word she didn¡¯t recognize. Negotiable? she filled in.

    ¡°I¡¯ll learn it,¡± she said.

    ¡°You are an ¡ª?¡± The last word was garbled again.

    She spoke Cuelsin because she otherwise couldn¡¯t find the words. ¡°I¡¯m an arcanist, if that¡¯s what you just asked. And I already know the basics of soul magic.¡±

    Rostal didn¡¯t correct her. ¡°What is your purpose?¡± he asked.

    ¡°To save lives.¡±

    ¡°Ah, the sad tale of many. Learn to kill to serve life. But if you do not fear death, why fear the death of others?¡±

    ¡°People should have a chance to live a full life,¡± she said. That seemed self-evident to her.

    He said something, but the words came too quickly, and there were too many she didn¡¯t recognize. He stared at her, perhaps expecting a response. ¡°I will give you a chance. First, learn ¡ª Adamic. You will do this by helping in the elementary school. When you can understand that last question, I will give you a final test.¡±

    Mirian looked at him. She couldn¡¯t exactly force him to teach her, and he seemed like a strong-willed person. He wouldn¡¯t be blackmailed or intimidated into anything. Perhaps the coming apocalypse might stir him into action, but she wasn¡¯t sure if he could be trusted with that information yet. Many of the Persamans here had helped Baracuel fight in the wars down south, and were loyal to the state. If the state was still saying she was a fugitive, who would he trust?

    It was another delay, another thing she needed to understand, but she could at least admit it would be useful. If the southern time traveler didn¡¯t speak Cuelsin, mastery of the most widespread Persaman language would be helpful. And if they didn¡¯t want to speak to her, she might need it to steal away their allies to isolate them. And maybe it¡¯ll help me remember, she reasoned.

    Ultimately, she needed to make progress in the Labyrinth, and that meant she needed a way to deal with the antimagic suppression fields. If Rostal¡¯s teachings could do what she hoped, it would give her an edge that would follow her in the loops. And that was worth a few language lessons.

 Chapter 132 - Clutching Fire

    Rostal had instructed Mirian to learn from the elementary school, but since it was evening of Fifthday and they would be closed until Firstday, she decided to hire a tutor for the weekend to get a head start.

    The markets were all closing by then, so Sixthday she set out early. There were no certified tutors for Adamic like there were for the other languages, but some locals pointed her to a retired schoolteacher who was looking for a bit of extra coin. With Cuelsin, Friian, and¡ªapparently¡ªAdamic, Mirian just automatically responded with whatever language had just been spoken to her. They first worked on getting her to intentionally recognize Adamic. Since she already knew the basics from her childhood, she made rapid progress. It was less learning, and more reconnecting old memories.

    That in turn gave her some hope. Not just that her memories might be recovered, but that the curse could be overcome. Perhaps thinking in Adamic might further unlock those shadowy places in her mind.

    On Firstday, she took a letter of recommendation from the tutor over to the school, along with a few boxes of colored chalk and some fresh slates as a gift to the school.

    ¡°They always need more of those,¡± the former teacher had assured her.

    Mirian attempted honesty, and told the secretaries working that she was trying to learn Adamic, and was willing to help out in the classrooms while she learned it. It turned out, there were several students whose families were from Urubandar, and had been in the city during an intense bout of skirmishing between the Baracueli forces and a rebel group. The children had seen a lot of death, and struggled to control themselves in class, despite the best efforts of their parents and teachers.

    It just so happened that Mirian was an expert at dealing with calming strategies for violent students. After all, she¡¯d been one.

    When she got to the classroom, she had to take a moment while her heart melted. The students were all first years¡ªthe same age as Zayd. They were preposterously adorable.

    Little Zayd, she thought. I hope you¡¯re doing well. Maybe the time loop was the best thing that could have happened to him. He¡¯d stay young and cute, going on an eternal adventure with mom and dad.

    Except why did I know Adamic? Dad speaks a little of it¡­ but just a little.

    She tried to keep her mind on the present.

    The class was reminiscent of her own schooling. The two cute terrors she¡¯d been assigned quickly sought to test her patience. ¡°See? I can do it too when I¡¯m mad. Breath in. Count, one, two, three. Breathe out, count, one, two, three. Let¡¯s do it together, okay?¡±

    She had to practice Adamic, because that was all the two children spoke.

    The days passed at a crawl, and they passed in a whirlwind. Mirian had forgotten how kids behaved. They were little bundles of emotion, constantly looking for the next thing. And they had endless energy.

    When it was break time, the children discovered that they could demand that they chase her, and she¡¯d run for them. She jogged around the school¡¯s play park while a tiny horde of children careened after her. Every so often, one would pause, catch their breath, then the thrill of the chase would reignite their little limbs and they¡¯d be back in the pack, shouting with the joy of it all.

    It was the height of absurdity, and Mirian couldn¡¯t help but smile at it.

    The problem with the two children she was assigned was not that their tempers blew up at the slightest provocation. The problem was they were constantly prodding the other children until they reacted, and then everything escalated from there.

    Mirian remembered her dad taking her on walks in the fields of Arriroba to help set her mind at ease, since when she was in a building, she¡¯d constantly been tense. She suggested the same thing to the teacher. So, they started taking little walks before the two of them could get set off, or set themselves off. She sang them old nursery rhymes and taught them to sing along. Mirian had never been great at singing, and the voice change her male form caused didn¡¯t help matters. Fortunately, the fact that it took a bucket for her to carry a tune¡ªand the bucket was leaking¡ªdidn¡¯t bother the children in the slightest. They paraded around the grounds belting lyrics out off-key, then played ¡°hide from the bog lion,¡± a game where they had to be very very sneaky when returning to class, which was a trick Mirian remembered her own teachers playing to get the class to shut up.

    Well, it did work.

    On the weekends, Mirian met with her tutor and practiced the more academic words in Adamic. Mostly, they had conversations. They each told stories to each other. Mirian left out the time loop, and changed the details a bit so that ¡®Micael¡¯ would fit in place of ¡®Mirian.¡¯ Occasionally, her tutor would correct her phrasing, or supply a word. Sometimes, Mirian would ask for a word.

    She kept track of the events through the newspapers, looking for any major changes.

    The Lowfort District felt like it underwent a siege itself as Alkazaria was surrounded by Dawn¡¯s Peace. By now, the broadsheets were astounded by how the small rebel group¡ªa month ago near the verge of total annihilation¡ªwas now commanding a united Persaman force that had risen up all across the lands. Two of the pro-Baracuel princes had been assassinated, and somehow, Dawn¡¯s Peace had gotten a foothold in Urubandar. Rumor was, their leader sought a powerful weapon to take down Alkazaria.

    By now, the siege was no idle thing. Spell engines attacked the walls of Alkazaria day and night. Only the fortuitous presence of the Arcane Praetorians had kept the siege at bay.

    For the first time, she saw a name printed: Ibrahim Kalishah. He claimed to be the Chosen of the Prophet, which the papers were quick to dismiss as a ridiculous title. Interestingly enough, despite the dozens of articles about the siege and calamitous rise of Dawn¡¯s Peace, none of the articles mentioned what they were fighting for. They did make sure to inform the audience what bloodthirsty barbarians the Persamans were.

    A miasma of tension gripped Lowfort. Arguments were mixed. Many of the Persamans settled in Baracuel had fought against Dawn¡¯s Peace at some point, but it was hard not to see a divine will at work with how successful Ibrahim had been. They whispered quietly that perhaps something was different this time. Others made sure they proclaimed their loyalty to Baracuel loudly and often, as if that might stop it from being questioned.

    The students, though, worried about none of it. Their biggest concerns continued to be who would get the balls during breaks, which tree was the tallest, who found the biggest leaf on the ground, and what was for lunch (it was always bread rolls stuffed with meat and vegetables. Every day).

    The worst fights between the children could be solved by separating them, letting them say their piece, then if watching the other kids at play didn¡¯t lure them out of their grumpy mood, they could be distracted out of it by getting a sweet cracker with fig jam on it. So far, the cracker had a 100% success rate.

    Mirian wistfully wished more conflicts could be solved like that. Watching them bumble about the classroom, she wondered, how do these perfect beings turn into the monsters behind this war?

    It seemed like it shouldn¡¯t be possible.

    She met Rostal again on the 23rd as he exited the Sanctuary.

    ¡°I¡¯ve done what you asked.¡±

    He snorted. ¡°It¡¯s been two weeks.¡±

    ¡°If we wait any longer, I won¡¯t get any lessons in.¡± It was late enough in the cycle now, and from the zephyr falcons she¡¯d gotten¡ªonly two from Torrviol, because there was something of a fight at the Royal Courier¡¯s station over them¡ªTroytin was in no position to project force down south. Luspire had been much more cautious dealing with the Akanans as soon as he¡¯d received the dossier, and Lecne had reported from Cairnmouth that the Deeps were entirely focused on the crisis down south now.

    It seemed the conspiracy had a lot of momentum, but the magnitude of the problem could no longer be ignored.

    ¡°Why? You going to go fight in that war?¡±

    ¡°The one with Dawn¡¯s Peace, or the one we¡¯re about to have with Akana Praediar?¡±

    ¡°They will forgive one embassy being burned.¡±

    ¡°Sure, but they won¡¯t forgive their Prime Minister being assassinated. Anyways, that¡¯s the small stuff. The leyline eruptions have already begun. We have about a week before one hits Palendurio.¡± She was mixing in Cuelsin words with her Adamic, but at least Rostal wasn¡¯t nitpicking her about that.

    Rostal snorted again. ¡°Do you think what you¡¯re doing is impressive? Do you think these things bother me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m just telling you the full truth of why I want to be trained now.¡± She considered how much to tell him. ¡°A lot of people are going to die. I¡¯m trying to stop it.¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°Everyone dies.¡± He seemed entirely unbothered. ¡°Tell me. What is the purpose of life?¡±

    ¡°What we make of it,¡± Mirian replied. ¡°But I¡¯d like to see an Enteria where people live good, peaceful, long lives. One where they share a great deal of good food with friends and family. And perhaps as our understanding of magic progresses, we can achieve things beyond our imagination.¡±

    Rostal considered that. ¡°Your imagination is limited.¡±

    Mirian frowned. The conversation wasn¡¯t at all going in the direction she¡¯d expected. ¡°What do you think our purpose here is?¡±

    ¡°The Elders created this world at the direction of God. They built the bones of the world, the great continents. They built the blood of the world, the great Labyrinth. They built the eye of the world, the Luamin moon. They built the soul of the world, the myrvites, and the other life. Tell me, what happens to a soul when you die?¡±

    Mirian had to switch to Cuelsin. ¡°Entropic dispersal.¡±

    Rostal sighed. ¡°Those are words. What do they mean?¡±

    She swapped back to Adamic. ¡°The soul energy spreads out. It¡ªgoes away. At least, after a few days, the spreading out can¡¯t be tracked anymore.¡±

    ¡°Matter and energy are neither created nor destroyed. To where does it go?¡±

    ¡°You should tell me.¡±

    ¡°Good. You do know how to learn. The saints tell us God values our souls. Why the soul, and not the whole body? Because that is what lives on after us.¡±

    Mirian thought that was a bit ridiculous, but let him continue.

    ¡°Dying is not what matters. Everything dies. So I do not fear death. No one should. What a waste of time, to fear the inevitable.¡±

    Once again, it seemed Mirian was running up against someone with a very different mindset than her own. ¡°So what is the purpose of your life?¡±

    ¡°To understand God.¡±

    ¡°So why get good at swordfighting?¡±

    ¡°To get closer to God.¡±

    Mirian raised an eyebrow. ¡°Does God appreciate talent with the rapier?¡±

    ¡°Not in the slightest,¡± Rostal said.

    ¡°Then why bother?¡±

    ¡°When our soul carries forth, it joins others. It should be ready for its transformation, and be both rigid and malleable. It must be a serene lake, and a ceaseless storm.¡±

    Nicolus¡¯s book about social manipulation didn¡¯t have anything that covered conversations like these. She tried to think of what he was implying he wanted, and came up short. Instead, there was a vague spirituality, one that was not in line at all with her own religious understanding. She could pick up on the Isheer beliefs¡ªthat of an unknowable God that existed even beyond the Elder beings like the Ominian¡ªbut Rostal seemed to be being deliberately obtuse. ¡°Will you teach me to strengthen my own soul?¡±

    ¡°You are not ready.¡±

    Mirian gaped at him. ¡°You don¡¯t understand what¡¯s at stake. Everyone here is under threat. What¡¯s coming¡ªit¡¯s death beyond anything natural or intended.¡± She gestured to the crowds around them. ¡°Your neighbors, your community¡ªdo you care about their lives?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°They will die. This is inevitable. But death is the start of a great journey. We should not weep for an end when it is also a beginning.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ why bother training Liamar?¡±

    ¡°He understood how little he knew.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I know how little I know,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I¡¯d be leaving you to¡ª¡± she switched to Cuelsin, ¡°¡ªrot in your smug sense of self-superiority if you didn¡¯t know something I didn¡¯t.¡± There were people watching them as they talked, she realized. That, and plenty of people here knew who he was. Rostal was a recluse, but she didn¡¯t think he always had been. Even then, he had a reputation. People nodded at him when he passed. ¡°So you accept that these people care about you, but you care nothing for them?¡±

    That got the first glint of anger in his eyes she¡¯d seen. ¡°Don¡¯t pretend you understand what I think.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need to know your mind to see your actions. Even given what you know, you stand passive here. War with Persama is brewing. Palendurio is a cauldron waiting to boil. Magical eruptions are becoming more frequent, and you know what just happened to the Akanan Embassy. You send me to go learn more Adamic. I do. Then you reject me anyways. Do you stand for anything?¡±

    ¡°God,¡± he said.

    ¡°And the Ominian? And any of the people here?¡±

    ¡°Just God.¡±

    ¡°And what does God want of you?¡±

    ¡°No one can know.¡±

    Mirian felt her anger boiling over. ¡°I¡¯ve wasted my time, haven¡¯t I?¡±

    ¡°Have you?¡±

    Mirian turned to face him, fists trembling. Rostal was infuriatingly calm. She wanted to punch him, but what would be the point? Instead she walked back the way they¡¯d come, then sat in the park. She thought of Grandpa Irabi and what he would tell her.

    Just like she¡¯d been doing with the children at the school, she took deep breaths and let that air stir in her, calming her. Eventually, she embraced her focus, and deepened her meditation, letting the sounds around her become distant. She looked inward to her soul.

    It was a turbulent thing still. When she examined it, she thought perhaps she could even see her own fury within it. Her deep frustration was not just for Rostal; he was just another intransigent fool. No, it was the sum of all the things. She could see the crisis, and the immediacy of it made her desperate. But all around her, people slouched about, going about their daily lives as if nothing was wrong. One of the Arcane Praetorians had told her there were at least 50 years of eruptions¡ªand yet, what was anyone doing?

    It was always just her. Troytin was hellbent on Akanan domination of the world. Ibrahim seemed to be doing something similar in Persama. General Corrmier would continue his coup even as the ground spewed arcane fire, and even as the Akanans burned Torrviol, Luspire would be fretting about his ambitions and reputation.

    The people with power clutched it like fire, letting the streams of flame drip down and spread across the world, heedless of how much it burned them too. The people without power looked at the flames around them and shrugged their shoulders, because what could they do?

    There was shortsightedness that was difficult to put into words. A selfishness that promised to let them all burn.

    She let her emotions swirl around, then released them with her breath. Perhaps she could find a way herself. That was the hope she held onto.

    Someone sat down next to her, though she was only dimly aware of them.

    ¡°Hmm. So you are not just a creature of lightning,¡± came Rostal¡¯s deep voice.

    Another wave of anger passed through Mirian. Was this just some bullshit test of his? She kept her eyes closed and gaze inward and took in another deep breath.

    ¡°You can control very little of the world. But one thing you should always be able to control is yourself.¡±

    Mirian sat there, feeling the light breeze on her skin. Finally, she said, ¡°I¡¯ve heard it said that emotions are a thing of weakness. But they¡¯re not. Love and beauty are feelings that make life worth living. It is right to be furious at injustice. If you are trying to teach me to discard these things, I will not learn it.¡±

    Rostal snorted. ¡°God did not grant us emotions to forsake them. That is not the lesson. What matters is what you do with them. There is a time to be like lightning, and there is a time to be like stone. You wish to always be like lightning.¡±

    ¡°I thought someone like you with special knowledge might be different,¡± Mirian said. ¡°But you¡¯re just like the rest of them. Everyone has their excuse for inaction until the evidence is overwhelming, but by then, it¡¯s too late. How many cycles will I waste trying to get you to cooperate even a little?¡±

    She was talking past him now, she knew.

    Except he caught her meaning immediately. ¡°You are a saint,¡± he said simply, using the Isheer term for the Prophets.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°God did not choose me,¡± he said. ¡°Despite all my dedication.¡±

    ¡°Apparently not,¡± Mirian said.

    Rostal got a forlorn look. ¡°Why not an Isheer?¡± he asked, not to Mirian, but to the sky.

    ¡°Oh, They chose at least one Isheer. Ibrahim Kalishah. He¡¯s besieging Alkazaria right now.¡±

    Rostal was silent, but she saw a flash of pain cross his face.

    ¡°You know him.¡±

    ¡°No. I knew him. That was a long time ago.¡± He paused. Several children ran by, shouting at each other as a battered boar-skin ball rolled across the field. ¡°He was not like lightning at all, but like fire. I told him to be more like water.¡± Rostal was silent again, then said, ¡°You look Persaman, and you don¡¯t mangle the sounds of Adamic like most Baracueli, so perhaps I assumed you understood more of the cultural context of our conversation than you did.¡±

    Mirian said nothing to that.

    ¡°May I examine your soul?¡± he asked.

    Mirian embraced her focus. ¡°Go ahead,¡± she said. ¡°But no messing around with things in there.¡±

    ¡°I am not a degenerate,¡± he said, and put his hand on Mirian¡¯s arm. There was a strange sensation, like water running over her, only it wasn¡¯t a touch at all, but a different sense. She could sense a subtle energy brushing over her with a feather¡¯s touch. For several minutes, he kept his hand there, until it began to tremble, and he broke contact. ¡°Are you a hierophant?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is.¡±

    ¡°You can use runes.¡±

    ¡°Yes, then.¡±

    There was another long pause. ¡°But there are no runes by the¡­ hole.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s my saint-hole,¡± Mirian said, feeling irreverent. ¡°The other saints have one too. You¡¯ll have to talk to the Ominian about that one.¡±

    ¡°The runes you wear might interfere. I don¡¯t know. There are so few hierophants left. Fewer even than there are dervishes.¡±

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°I can get rid of them then.¡± Especially if you¡¯re implying you¡¯ll actually teach me. She undid the bindings, then used the techniques Marva had been teaching her to push her soul energy through what she visualized as deformations in her soul. She wasn¡¯t as fast as Marva, but over the next ten minutes, her body changed back to normal. She tried to ignore the weirdness of the sensations as her internal organs rearranged themselves. Her clothes didn¡¯t quite fit right anymore, but they were loose enough not to be a problem.

    Rostal watched her as she transformed.

    One of the children who¡¯d been playing also noticed the change, and stopped to gape. His friend, who had been chasing him, didn¡¯t stop in time. There was a crack! as their heads collided and they both tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs. The first kid sat up, dazed, while the second started wailing.

    Mirian rushed over. ¡°Hold still,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll make it better.¡± Gently, she drew from the soul repository, sending soothing waves over the developing bruise on his head. Then she healed the second one, though it took him a moment to realize the physical pain had gone away. ¡°Be more careful,¡± she told them, then rejoined Rostal on the bench.

    Rostal was still staring at her. ¡°Very well,¡± he said. ¡°I have misjudged you. There is simply no other choice. You must be my student.¡±

 Chapter 133 - The Dervish

    ¡°A dervish can never remain one thing. To be a dervish is to embody change,¡± Rostal said as an introduction to his first lesson.

    They were back to standing in his courtyard, rapiers drawn.

    ¡°I will skip the lessons on the Silver Sky, because it is not a true form, merely a training tool. You have already demonstrated the ability to internally reflect, which is the first condition required for one to do anything as a dervish.¡±

    Mirian nodded, still a bit wary. Rostal¡¯s demeanor had changed as soon as he¡¯d started giving instructions, and she was worried it might shift again just as easily.

    ¡°There are six true forms I know. They are the legacy of countless generations, but they are not true things anymore than the word ¡®stone¡¯ is the truth of a rock. ¡®Water¡¯ does not convey the majesty of the ocean, nor the properties of the substance, and so is not truth either. Names are nothing more than convenience. God will not be impressed that you know names.¡±

    That made sense to her. But I wonder if the god he believes in would be impressed by knowledge of the glyphs and runes, since they are a true reflection of reality?

    ¡°Since you are not Persaman, I will also tell you this: the mind and body are not separate things.¡±

    That disagreed with a century of Baracueli philosophy, but Mirian had passed those classes because she was good at memorization, not because she particularly cared about the arguments. She could work with his statement.

    Rostal tilted his head as he looked at Mirian. ¡°You said your soul persists, but not your body. This is also in keeping with the teachings of the Isheer. We will have to try something. There may be a way to keep what you have gained. If memories persist, then muscle can too. The First Saint said, ¡®memory is but a thread in the mind.¡¯ And what are muscles, except bundles of threads?¡±

    ¡°So how will that work? If I keep bindings on myself through a cycle, they stay with me when I loop. But it takes time for my body to adjust.¡±

    Rostal shrugged. ¡°If it¡¯s your soul traveling, you would expect the body to take time adjusting.¡±

    ¡°Then does a dervish use runic bindings on their soul? I know a lot of points on the soul, but not that deal with muscle.¡±

    Rostal contemplated that. ¡°How to explain? I know. When you want to build muscle, do you slice open your arms and stuff meat inside, then stitch it up?¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t bother answering, since it wasn¡¯t a real question.

    ¡°You eat the food, your body builds the muscle. It builds the nerves, it strengthens the bones, and your mind adapts to them. These complexities cannot be achieved by bindings. Your body and soul know how to build themselves. You must simply prepare them, like a painter preparing a surface for a masterpiece. When we push your body to its limits, it will strengthen, and if you are using the right techniques, your soul will be more ready to accept those changes. The poorly prepared soul has¡­ inertia.¡±

    Here, Mirian had to ask what several words he¡¯d just said meant, and Rostal reluctantly used the Cuelsin words before swapping back to Adamic.

    ¡°We will go through the forms. Then you will lift iron weights in other forms. Then you will perform the basic dances.¡±

    ¡°Dances?¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Does not translate well. Warrior dances. A pattern of movements that build agility and strength, and are useful in a fight. Each form has a dance associated with it.

    ¡°Once I know what you  need, I will assign you the best strengthening exercises. Then I will teach you the first of the techniques. The Blooming Red Iron readies your soul to be tempered and molded. It¡¯s dangerous, because it becomes more ready to accept any change, so you must make sure you are changing it to become stronger. Your body will impart to your soul the lesson you¡¯ve taught it, regardless of the lesson. This is why your form and warrior dances must be perfect first.¡±

    Mirian nodded.

    Rostal sighed. ¡°Usually, there is more ritual to this all. But you say we are short on time. So let us begin. Lunge.¡±

    Mirian lunged.

    ¡°Good form. First parry. Mediocre. Second parry. Good. Third parry. Passable. Fourth parry. Good. Fifth parry. Good.¡±

    One by one, he went through all the basic dueling motions. Mirian did each one as quickly and precisely as she could. She was no stranger to the exercises. Then, it was on to the iron weights. Those, she had used rarely in preparatory school, and Rostal was disgusted with her form.

    ¡°The iron should flow with your muscle. You do not jerk it around like a poorly made puppet. Strength will be the first thing we work on,¡± he said.

    After that, it was on to the movement techniques. The ¡®dances,¡¯ were complex, and it took several days for Mirian to complete the basic ones to Rostal¡¯s satisfaction. Each was associated with the archaic classification of elements the ancient Persamans had used to describe the world, predating even the Triarchy. There was lightning, air, fire, stone, iron, and water, each of which had an associated fighting form as well.

    Each set of movements had a feeling to them that matched their element. The lightning dance had a series of rapid, direct movements. Some were very close to the dueling forms she¡¯d trained on, and she recognized some of the movements as ones Liamar made. The air dance used slow, exaggerated movements, and was more to train strength and coordination than for fighting. The stone dance was all about keeping movements close to the center of gravity where there was more power, and using her core and legs to power her arms. That was more important for someone using longswords or two-handers, but it wasn¡¯t wholly unimportant for rapiers.

    Water was her favorite dance, because it flowed beautifully from each form to the next. It was an evasive form, helping prepare a fighter for how they might dodge a blade they couldn¡¯t block, or reposition themselves even when in a tight corner.

    The Lowfort District¡¯s tension only grew as the riots and lawlessness engulfed the city. The communities started patrolling the district and set up several barricades to prevent foot traffic. Near the outskirts of the district, several shops burned. Ibrahim¡¯s changed the timeline enough that the Persamans are getting persecuted by mobs now too.

    On the 28th of Solem, Rostal finally agreed to teach her the first form.

    ¡°The Blooming Red Iron is like metal in the forge. It¡¯s not a fighting form, but an exercise form. Some dervishes have used it in combat to better prepare for an enemy or situation they expect to face again. It opens you up to learn, in every sense. I will repeat once again that it is dangerous, because I¡¯ve seen too many foolish students for my conscience to allow anything else. Then I will say it no more, for you¡¯ve heard me.¡±

    Preparing for a form involved a great deal of meditation, at least for a beginner. It was like how a brand new spellcaster often took nearly an hour just to bring a catalyst in contact with their aura. At first, Mirian had to reflect inward and spend time carefully adjusting the flow and patterns of her soul. She was used to doing that with bindings. It was significantly harder to push the flows and currents around without them, especially because the soul had a natural tendency to flow a certain way.

    ¡°Damn, how do auramancers do it?¡± Mirian muttered at one point.

    ¡°Traditionally? They use the form The Sinister Hand of Shadow. The Akanans? They are using bindings. Much cheaper, even if it does mutilate the souls of their soldiers.¡±

    That was not the reply she¡¯d expected, but it did explain a lot. Soul magic was still clearly suppressed and hidden in Akana Praediar since Troytin didn¡¯t know the first thing about it, but someone there knew something about it.

    The Blooming Red Iron form couldn¡¯t be be done piece by piece. She had to move the totality of her soul in a rhythm. It was like trying to grab water.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Rostal, for all that he was annoying and aloof, was a patient teacher. ¡°Don¡¯t be frustrated,¡± he told her one evening.

    ¡°How do you know I¡¯m frustrated?¡± she asked.

    He gave her a knowing look. ¡°You aren¡¯t very good at hiding your emotions. They pass through you like a tremor before you can suppress them.¡±

    Mirian grunted.

    ¡°You¡¯re learning faster than any student I¡¯ve taught. Probably because this is not your first time controlling your soul. A child does not learn to walk immediately. A dervish does not learn perfect soul control overnight. Practice the techniques that keep everything in motion. Practice the type of motion in a small area. Soon enough, you¡¯ll be able to combine them.¡±

    She sighed. ¡°What do I tell you next cycle?¡±

    Rostal became contemplative again, eyes looking at something distant that wasn¡¯t there. ¡°I¡¯ve not made demands of you, because such things are easily discarded. Persama is¡­ a beautiful place.¡±

    He was silent again, then he gave a sigh. Replaying some memory in his mind, Mirian guessed.

    ¡°If you have a chance, you should see the harvest festival in Alatishad. The sunset on the sea by Urubandar. Walk the oasis gardens of Mahatan. Such care has been put into the sanctuaries. The desert has this subtle beauty to it. The painted hills, the dusk hawks, the bursts of flowers hiding in the sands. By Jiandzhi, the high desert has the most beautiful sandstone spires and canyons. If you can visit it¡­¡±

    ¡°I suspect I will,¡± Mirian said. If only to see Ibrahim¡¯s power base and what can be done about it.

    ¡°Like cracks in dry land, Persama is divided. No matter where you go now, there is no peace to be found. This is not¡­ I can¡¯t explain it. But God must abhor how many broken souls the land churns out.¡±

    So he does care, after all. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can,¡± she promised.

    ¡°That¡¯s all I can ask. Then tell me my request, and what you¡¯ve done so far, even if it¡¯s nothing. The me of yesterday is dead, so I can¡¯t know his mind, but I imagine if you show me what you know and can do, and let me examine your soul, I¡¯ll sense what truth there is in you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said.

    ¡°I must believe that God has foreseen all of this. There is purpose beyond what we can grasp. There is causality beyond what we can comprehend. He knew you would find me, and thus, I must play my part.¡±

    They sat in silence. Mirian snacked on a Persaman meatball. It was nothing like the Baracueli meatballs. It was full of fruity flavors from the plums, walnuts, and barberries. Part of her training also meant having enough protein, and Rostal was on good terms with roughly a dozen cooks who were all happy to drop by meals and snacks for them. A few of them refused Mirian¡¯s attempt to give them a few extra silver as thanks, which made her wonder what Rostal had done for them.

    The man had a history, that much was clear. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to talk with Ibrahim, at some point,¡± Mirian said, thinking, and I hope his first reaction isn¡¯t to try and destroy me. ¡°What can you tell me about him?¡±

    Mirian saw the flash of pain pass over Rostal¡¯s face before he hid it. ¡°He was a bright young man. A natural at the warrior¡¯s dance. A natural leader. Smart. And yet, all he can understand is fire.¡±

    She was starting to understand some of the cultural context behind that phrase. It didn¡¯t simply mean Ibrahim had a temper, more that once he set himself to something, he didn¡¯t stop, and he would spread his passion and mission to others. He would either consume his enemies, or burn out.

    ¡°He has seen¡­¡± Rostal started, then changed his mind. ¡°We have seen terrible things. How much do you know of the wars down there?¡±

    ¡°Not much,¡± Mirian admitted. ¡°Only there¡¯s a lot of them, and a lot of brutal fighting, and as long as fossilized myrvite exists there, that fighting isn¡¯t really going to stop.¡± Nicolus had called Persama a key resource. It seemed a rather condescending way to describe someone¡¯s beloved homeland.

    ¡°He seeks to correct an injustice,¡± Rostal said. ¡°I cannot agree with his methods. He cannot countenance mine. Of all the forms, he only mastered two: the Lone Pine on the Mountain, and The Last Breath of the Phoenix.¡±

    ¡°Stubborn, then.¡±

    ¡°As the ocean is damp, yes. But I do think his heart¡­ at least, when I knew him. I think his heart seeks peace.¡±

    ¡°Then you think he¡¯s changed?¡±

    ¡°How much can people change?¡± Rostal asked. ¡°You can¡¯t cross the same river twice. And yet, the river flows through its channel, and for decades, the change along the banks is imperceptible. People are wet clay. People are cold iron. I fear he can change. I fear he can¡¯t.¡±

    Mirian was beginning to understand that Rostal held completely contradictory ideas about things, and saw no problem with that. People would die, and God would accept their souls as they were, so in death there was no tragedy. And yet, he loved his people and his land, and every death was a tragedy. That her professor of logic would have pulled his hair out in frustration didn¡¯t bother him.

    Mirian had explained the leyline crisis to some degree to Rostal. ¡°What do you think he¡¯ll do if I come to him with the leyline problem?¡±

    Rostal snorted. ¡°He¡¯s not stupid. Has he done anything about it? Then he doesn¡¯t care. Like me, he thinks he serves God. Then you must ask, what does he think God is telling him to do?¡±

    Mirian thought of Troytin. ¡°Does he serve God, or is that just an excuse for him to serve himself?¡±

    ¡°A question for the ages. Few would ever admit such a thing. Most would not even admit it to themselves.¡±

    No doubt Ibrahim had the same dreams as Mirian. But how has he interpreted them? Troytin saw what he wanted in them. Has Ibrahim done the same? Am I doing the same?

    Shouting from the streets echoed down into the courtyard. It didn¡¯t sound like a riot, so it may have been looters being chased off. Mirian asked, ¡°Do you think he could work with me? Or does he also fear the idea of sharing power?¡±

    The shouting continued to echo, though she could tell it was moving on. Probably a running street chase. Rostal continued to contemplate. Mirian munched on another meatball, then took a hunk of stuffed bread to go with it. ¡°Like scorched wood, he has been burned before. One burn was very close to his heart. Perhaps, with time, it will heal. Perhaps if it tries to, he will put a brand to the flesh to stop it from doing so. Ibrahim does not trust that which he cannot control.¡± He paused. ¡°Are you going to help them?¡±

    Mirian said, ¡°ouhf alrought¡± because her mouth was still stuffed with bread. She used her wand of levitation to hover above the courtyard, then detect life to highlight where the chase had moved to. As she moved above the scene, she could see that a band of deputized Lowfort residents were chasing down another group. The weapons were mostly clubs and knives. Mirian used bind person on each of the escaping looters, causing them to trip and skid painfully on the cobblestones.

    The pursuers looked around in confusion. Mirian landed behind them, finally swallowing the bread she¡¯d been chewing on. ¡°Need anything else?¡± she asked in Adamic.

    One of them got wide-eyed. ¡°No, Disciple,¡± he said. Anyone who knew Rostal had started calling her that once word had gotten around. What did Liamar do to impress Rostal enough to take him on?

    ¡°Great. I¡¯ll release the binding spell in¡­ say, ten minutes? That should give you enough time to tie them up or¡­ whatever you need to do.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Disciple. Thank you.¡±

    Mirian flew off again to go finish her food.

    ***

    The 1st of Duala came and went, and the leyline eruption that so devastated the city didn¡¯t take place. Mirian¡¯s detectors could still pick out strange movements of the leylines beneath the surface, and again, the anomalous energy reading north of Alkazaria. The magical eruptions were still growing in intensity and frequency, but none of them were as catastrophic as the rupture.

    General Corrmier was doing his usual thing of taking over Parliament and preparing the city for the Akanans.

    ¡°We have until the night of the 6th,¡± Mirian told Rostal.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡±

    ¡°Troytin might detonate the Monument and speed things up, but I think he¡¯s finally figured out he needs to study it. I also don¡¯t think it¡¯ll do him any good. Even if he does detonate it, we¡¯ll have time before moonfall.¡±

    Rostal glanced at the Divir moon. ¡°I am eager to meet God,¡± he said. Then, ¡°I¡¯ve also been thinking. If you are in the form of Blooming Iron when you die, it may be¡­ a problem. If the soul is extra malleable in that state, some of the damage of your death may carry over. A blade always has two edges.¡±

    Mirian considered that. ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll be careful. Do any of the other forms carry that risk?¡±

    ¡°Doubtful. Well, the Last Breath of the Phoenix carries a risk, but that is incidental to the time loop.¡±

    They trained for those last few days, though Mirian could still only partially use the Blooming Iron form. When the end came, Rostal stood at the top of his house with his hands clasped behind his back.

    ¡°I like to think of it as not the real timeline,¡± Mirian told him.

    ¡°If I can think, then I am, and if I am, then I am real,¡± Rostal said. ¡°I regret to inform you that all of this is real. I¡¯m not worried. As I said, I¡¯m eager to meet God.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s face must have played a dozen different emotions in quick succession. She saw no reason he wasn¡¯t right, of course, but she didn¡¯t want to accept it. She had been forced to accept an ethical position she didn¡¯t like, but it was the only one should could live with: someday, in one of the distant timelines, Enteria would live. How many dead futures is that worth?

    Perhaps the Isheer¡¯s God could answer that. She couldn¡¯t.

    The moon began to fall, setting the sky aflame. Rostal kept his eyes fixed on it, unblinking, and did not tremble. He held his hands out, palms up, and breathed in deeply.

 Chapter 134 - Hammering Iron

    Her sabotage efforts had kept Troytin busy, and from Lecne¡¯s reports, the Deeps were busy too. Troytin¡¯s loss of influence was only compounded by Ibrahim¡¯s war in the south. While they played at petty tyrant of their domains, she was preparing for the future.

    She returned to Palendurio and found Rostal. He was meditating in his courtyard when she entered. As he opened his eyes to question her intrusion into his home, she spoke. ¡°For the Luminates, the time of Prophets has come again. For the Isheer, the Saints. Their visions of the future were lived, not mere dreams. In exchange for your aid, you¡¯ve requested I help mend Persama. Since you¡¯re still training me, I¡¯ve made no progress on that yet, except for a brief conversation on Ibrahim¡¯s nature. But the other you I talked to requested I tell you that.¡±

    Rostal stood, giving Mirian a puzzled look.

    ¡°We were working on my mastery of The Blooming Red Iron so I can improve my physical form and soul potential,¡± she added. ¡°The last version of you I met suggested you¡¯d want to examine my soul. So you may,¡± she said, holding out a bare arm.

    He had a lot of questions after that, but it basically did the trick. Within the day, they¡¯d resumed her training. By the end of the cycle, she could create a short whole-soul ripple that seemed to have the correct form.

    Rostal spent his last night on the roof, praying.

    ***

    Mirian idly wondered if Granpa Irabi had ever known a dervish. As she learned the basics of the other forms, she thought his meditation techniques had similarities to The Spear That Cuts Water, though his was more about using the physical body to calm the soul, rather than stirring the soul to change the physical body. Though the Persaman dervishes had their six forms, Mirian was sure there were more techniques, only they¡¯d been lost. Rostal was sure of it as well, but for all his travels, he¡¯d never discovered them.

    ¡°It was after your Unification War,¡± he said. ¡°Well, no, that¡¯s not quite right. It began during the colonization of what would become Akana Praediar. During the Hundred Wars. The Baracueli sought to stomp out the casters that were opposing them, so they branded the Semnol, Takoa, and Mianol versions of magic as necromancy. Only, ideas are not stones. They blew back to Baracuel on the wind, and the Luminates found their reason to start wiping out the Druidic Orders. And, seeing how useful this tool was for conquest, newly formed Akana Praediar and Baracuel worked to ban and destroy the hierophants and dervishes of Persama. Only arcanists certified in their own academies could be allowed to practice. I am sure something similar happened in Zhighua. But after the Unification War, it went from being a useful tool of colonial governors and ambitious priests to a foundational law of the land. They are necromancers. We are holy.¡±

    This was a history Mirian knew little about. Her history classes had mentioned the Druidic Orders fading away, but it had sounded like a natural thing; old, primitive magic fading away naturally as people saw the inherent superiority of new arcane discoveries. It was the result of the inevitable march of progress and human triumph.

    Her history books had talked about the Baracueli conquest of the new continent the same way. Her conversations with Selesia so long ago had changed her perspective on that, but she hadn¡¯t thought much about what that implied about other stories she learned in history class.

    Rostal shook his head sadly. ¡°Opposing necromancy became easy to rally people against after the Unification War. After Atroxcidi, who could defend it? Everyone was terrified of him. Of course, all actions are reflected. Soon enough, Baracuel was culling itself. The combined loss of our knowledge is incalculable. Wars kill more than people.¡±

    There¡¯s that name again, Mirian thought. ¡°What do you know of Atroxcidi?¡±

    ¡°Hmm. As little as anyone. The Arcane Praetorians and Luminates began to consider even knowing about the man dangerous. The idea that learning anything more than his sins might inspire young fools to emulate him. It is said he could regather the dispersing souls of the dead. But the druids and the hierophants were said to be able to do that too, so they could talk to a recently departed spirit. The rumor is that he could go beyond that. He could set that soul back in its body and have that soul serve him. In the end, the Isheer and the Luminates both could agree that he needed to be eliminated.¡±

    ¡°But they didn¡¯t kill him, did they?¡±

    ¡°Maybe not. Anyone who knows doesn¡¯t much like talking about it. So at the very least, he stalks about nightmares, and people dread the day he might return to the slaughter.¡±

    Something there didn¡¯t make sense to Mirian. ¡°Someone told me he was more powerful than Archmage Solvir. Casting at powers above even 150 myr. That¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s hard to even put into words what kind of spells he could cast. And if he knew necromancy¡ªthose clever tricks the Praetorians use to hunt down rogue casters, I know they wouldn¡¯t work. If he wanted to be out there killing people, he would be. What could stop him?¡±

    Then she blinked. ¡°Oh shit. I just realized¡ªthe Arcane Praetorians all leave Palendurio at the start of the cycle. Like, almost all of them.¡±

    Rostal raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°And they wouldn¡¯t say who they were hunting. But I wonder¡­.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. But who can say how a man like that¡ªif he is still a man¡ªmight think. And perhaps the Praetorians have some tricks you don¡¯t know about.¡±

    That was true. Mirian hadn¡¯t actually had to fight them yet. They almost all evacuated from Palendurio, and the Pontiff¡¯s word had gotten the one¡¯s who had confronted her to stand down.

    ¡°But enough talk!¡± Rostal said, standing, and drew his rapier.

    Mirian drew hers and they fought again.

    By the end of the cycle, she could maintain the Blooming Red Iron form for several minutes.

    ***

    When Mirian woke in the next cycle, she was hungrier than normal. That was a good sign, she thought. If the Blooming Iron form was working, she and Rostal had theorized that the soul would only be able to reconstitute any gains she¡¯d made in physicality with matter. And that meant food.

    She rushed through her first few errands, then got the largest chicken stew she could. It couldn¡¯t compare to the Persaman cooking she was now used to, but it certainly filled her up.

    She made her usual preparations, then headed down to Palendurio.

    By the 20th, she could maintain the Blooming Iron form for a full hour. Now, after another round of practicing dueling forms with Rostal or running through the park, she could feel the difference.

    She was also ravenous. Fortunately, cashing in the fake Florinian ingot as she stopped by Cairnmouth gave her enough gold to buy whatever food she wanted, not that many of Rostal¡¯s friends would let her pay them.

    ¡°Sand¡¯s already at the bottom,¡± they would say, which was a phrase meaning ¡®the debt¡¯s already settled.¡¯

    Mirian reveled in the training. Each time she was done, there was a euphoria that outweighed the exhaustion and soreness.

    Near the end of the cycle, Lecne reported an increase in Deeps activity, but it seemed to be in reaction to events down south. The messages from Torrviol were different than the last cycle. It seemed Troytin was learning to convince the Akanan team to join his sabotage efforts, including assassination. One of the Akanans, deeply disturbed by the request, had gone to the Torrviol professors. Mirian thought Troytin seemed to be confused; when people said ¡°Akanan scholarship is cutthroat,¡± that wasn¡¯t quite what they meant.

    Troytin had escaped to somewhere before he could be arrested. Mirian was unconcerned. If he was hiding, he wasn¡¯t doing damage.

    Readings from the leyline detectors seemed remarkably similar, except for the anomaly north of Alkazaria. It moved around, very slowly, but in a different pattern than last time. Is that Ibrahim¡¯s work? But he¡¯s still sieging the city.

    There were no answers there. Mirian stood with Rostal again as he met God.

    ***

    This time, Mirian started bothering Rostal about contacts.

    ¡°If Ibrahim does start to turn hostile towards me, I want an early warning,¡± she explained, midway through the cycle.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°I abhor subterfuge,¡± Rostal grumbled. Mirian had to ask what the two words meant since she was still working on her Adamic.

    Nevertheless, after several arguments, he agreed to introduce her to several of the people he knew best. Rostal tried to ignore politics altogether, but a few of his friends kept their ears low to the ground. Mirian made sure to be generous with her coin as she purchased from their shops. As best she could tell, a lot of Persaman culture had to do with gift giving and favors, a sort of informal economy. She could only get the shopkeepers to accept her overpaying if she framed it as an investment into their business from a friend. Even then, sometimes she stumbled face-first into some social rule she didn¡¯t know.

    Rostal, watching her annoy a shopkeeper, finally said, ¡°You say, ¡®the tailor down the street wants to show off a new pattern, so I hope you will buy a new outfit for you and your children with this extra money. It would mean a lot if such talent could be seen.¡¯ Then the gift is acceptable.¡±

    Mirian had to think about it, but still didn¡¯t understand. ¡°I didn¡¯t have to frame it that way for the baker or the alchemist, though.¡±

    The dervish frowned. ¡°That¡¯s because they are different. I don¡¯t know how to explain it to you. It¡¯s not a general social rule, like what side of the plate the fork goes on. You have to show you know the person and their circumstances. Gifts cannot be impersonal or they are bribes. And bribes are frowned on.¡±

    It was kind of like a bribe, though, Mirian thought, and it also made clear that she could pay more than anyone else snooping around if it came to that. She had to sit down and memorize facts and favors related to the people like she was studying for an alchemistry exam, and just trusted Rostal knew what he was talking about.

    Rostal still refused to talk about himself and his history, but Mirian could read between the lines. He¡¯d been involved in a lot of fighting in Persama in his youth. At some point, his group had worked with Baracuel to end the reign of some upstart warlord. Ibrahim had considered this an unforgivable betrayal.

    That was about as much as she could figure out. Many of the people in Lowfort had come there because Persama had become dangerous for them and their families, personally, and weren¡¯t eager to revisit the path that had led them there. Even among those who had come to Baracuel to pursue wealth or a better future missed their homeland.

    Mirian could sympathize. She missed Arriroba and Madinahr all the time.

    She continued to extend her Blooming Iron form. Pleased with her progress, Rostal had started showing her the other stances.

    The Spear That Cuts Water was a combination of martial techniques and soul-form that sought to use an opponent¡¯s momentum against them. It helped the dervish move with perfect fluidity so that when a blade came their way, they not only were out of the way, they were moving into a counterattack. It drew its name from one of the Persaman spear fighting martial arts. Some of the techniques had made their way into rapier fighting.

    Lone Pine on the Mountain was the stance of the defender. It sacrificed evasion for resilience, and was mostly favored by heavily armored warriors trying to hold a line in battle. It also enhanced their spell resistance, though only for themselves.

    The Sinister Hand of Shadow was the basis for auramancers. Unlike an auramancer, the dervish had far more control over how far their aura¡ªand the spell resistance that came with it¡ªextended, and where it extended. A skilled dervish could withdraw their aura as an allied spellcaster sent out a spell, then replace it in time to prevent a counterattack. Auramancers could extend and withdraw their aura, but not shape it with such precision. Rostal had used it against her when she¡¯d used raw kinetic magic in their first bout.

    By historical tradition, these Persaman aura dervishes had also used dirty tricks in their fights, like flicking out bolases to entangle their enemies, or throwing magically infused sand in their opponents¡¯ eyes. Through the years, the techniques came to be associated with shadowy assassins in the stories.

    The Dance of the Dusk Waves Across the Ocean was, as Rostal put it, ¡°the one you will like.¡± It was associated with the tempest, and therefore the element of lightning. It was the one Liamar had used on her that allowed for rapid bursts of speed. When performed, the movements that complemented the form had a jagged, chaotic feel to them. They only looked that way though; Rostal made her practice them dozens of times before he let her use Blooming Iron to start internalizing the movements.

    Of course, The Blooming Red Iron only helped with the martial arts that came with each of the forms. The forms themselves were expressed in the soul. As Rostal predicted, The Dance of Dusk Waves came easiest to her. And Daith noticed lighting spells came easiest to me. There must be some underlying pattern and mechanism at work that our textbooks don¡¯t cover. But the ancient Persamans noticed them as they were classifying the world.

    The last form was Last Breath of the Phoenix.

    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t even teach it to you,¡± Rostal grumbled. ¡°The other techniques won¡¯t kill you if you use them wrong. This one will.¡±

    The Phoenix form was famous because several great heroes of Persaman legend had used it in their last stands. Rostal only briefly demonstrated it because, while it granted the dervish great strength, it did so by consuming their soul energy.

    ¡°So that¡¯s Ibrahim¡¯s favorite form?¡± Mirian asked. That made her wary. He clearly knows something about soul magic. If he¡¯s anything like Troytin, he¡¯s far more dangerous.

    ¡°Yes. I¡¯m surprised he isn¡¯t dead. Several times in his youth, he was surprised he wasn¡¯t dead. Until you told me about him, I thought either the Baracueli or Akanan agents had killed him years ago. The man lives on a knife blade.¡±

    Not risk averse, Mirian mentally noted.

    ¡°So¡­ can the Phoenix form burn soul energy from another living being. Say, a stored myrvite soul?¡±

    Rostal looked at her, then put his hands in his head. ¡°Should not have showed you that one. I should not have¡­ look, I don¡¯t know. A dervish seeks to strengthen their own soul. None of the techniques deal with the souls of others, but that sounds¡­ souls were not meant to mush together, you know? I will just repeat: it¡¯s dangerous. Dangerous. Do not be a fool.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m careful,¡± Mirian assured him. Mostly.

    There was still so much about soul magic she didn¡¯t know, but she suspected the Phoenix form¡ªor something like it¡ªcould be used to fuel spells as well. That Atroxcidi was a necromancer and that he exceeded the greatest Baracueli archmage do not seem to me to be a set of unrelated facts.

    Rostal had said the necromancer was less than human now. It conjured in Mirian¡¯s mind the face of a man that was half-mummy, eyes bright silver, but face as dessicated and weathered as a sandstone cliff. Whatever secrets he held, she wanted them.

    Speaking of dangerous, Mirian mused. She still needed to learn more about the man. The legendary necromancer was not someone she could risk not understanding.

    Rostal tried to distract her by making her too exhausted by the training to think about other things. It mostly worked. But Mirian was always thinking.

    ***

    Five more loops passed. Mirian spent one of them in disguise as Micael again, working as Professor Endresen¡¯s apprentice. Troytin, she could tell, was frustrated. His delegation arrived late¡ªon the 10th, even though it could have arrived sooner. From what she could tell, he had been trying to leverage his contacts in Akana Praediar to rebuild his knowledge of the contacts in Baracuel, and to find ways to solidify his control over the Akanan professors.

    He was running into the same problem with Tyrcast that Mirian had with Luspire: Tyrcast had his own agenda, and the power and connections to keep it running uninterrupted. The Archmage was difficult to manipulate, and impossible to blackmail.

    As far as she could tell, Troytin was attempting to establish himself as the Ominian¡¯s Chosen in the Akanan¡¯s eyes. He spoke of visions of the future and of great knowledge and power the Ominian had bestowed on him, but it seemed he hadn¡¯t trusted his allies with true knowledge of the timeloop. Certainly, he had nothing to say about the end of the world. The moon falling just after the end of the month was so inconvenient that it simply had to be ignored.

    But his reasoning doesn¡¯t make any sense. If this is just a contest, and the moon falling is a symbolic of losing that contest, what¡¯s the purpose of it? Why would the Ominian initiate new Prophets? It also didn¡¯t make sense, because the date of moonfall was variable based on what they did.

    Rostal would say, ¡°A mind too versed in stone ignores the wind and water, right until the erosion turns them to dust.¡± Troytin can¡¯t think of Akana Praediar as anything but righteous, so the idea that he has to stop his own country¡¯s war is anathema to him.

    Which was too bad. From the snippets of talk she picked up on as she listened in on Endresen¡¯s conversations, Akana Praediar had done significantly more research on the leylines than Baracuel. She still wouldn¡¯t risk going there until Troytin was taken care of. She could needle at Rostal about taking risks, but heading across the Rift Sea would be far too dangerous. Now that she¡¯d seen their instant communication devices in action and learned that, unlike Baracuel, they actually had put in telegraph lines to the major cities (and embarked on a ruthless campaign of stonemole extermination), she couldn¡¯t rely on distance or travel times to shield her.

    Troytin was continuing to put effort into studying the Monument, but with Jei and Torres as her allies and her starting position in Torrviol, Mirian could deny him years of research easily. And given that High Wizard Ferrandus was not nearly as smart as he thought he was, and the Akanans had to be introduced to the project each time, Mirian had no concerns of Troytin learning anything useful.

    Down in Palendurio, she continued her lessons with Rostal. Most importantly, she had mastered Blooming Iron, and the changes to her physique were obvious after only a day or two. Now she¡¯d incorporated eating several baduka boar steaks into her first day of the loop. Her muscles had become more defined, and she could feel the grace and ease in her steps. When she ran her old route in the Mage¡¯s Grove, she found herself completing it faster and not even being out of breath.

    When she examined her soul, she could see it shining.

    Mirian worked on another goal, too. Though Palendurio was no longer getting hit by the leyline rupture directly, she still had memorized the path it implied. She began to search the canal tunnels along the line she¡¯d graphed out several cycles ago. Despite her attempts to narrow the search, the area she needed to search was large, and while her divination spells picked up plenty of closed off caverns and hidden areas, most turned out to be abandoned, old smugglers¡¯ tunnels, or¡ªsince the Syndicate was still active¡ªcurrent smugglers¡¯ tunnels.

    She had to give her apologies to several criminals for disturbing them.

    At the end of the loop, Mirian stared at another readout of the anomaly near Alkazaria. There was a pattern to the leylines. Very little changed with them, and what did change might be the imprecision of her measurements.

    There wasn¡¯t a pattern to the anomaly. I need to investigate it, she decided. If Ibrahim was doing something there, she needed to know about it.

 Chapter 135 - The Anomaly

    The next cycle, Mirian saluted Rostal and they began their bout.

    Rostal liked to tell her to go all-out, but Mirian knew he didn¡¯t really mean it. Otherwise, she would just fly up and hit him with lightning until he gave up. Instead, she started with The Spear That Cuts Water, turning back Rostal¡¯s initial attack. As soon as he relented, she switched to The Dance of Dusk Waves and came in with several rapid cuts that demanded answers. That pushed him back across the courtyard and left him with a gash across the arm.

    Rostal took the initiative back, using the strength of Last Breath of the Phoenix to try and disarm her when their blades crossed (such a hypocrite, Mirian thought). Then he switched to The Sinister Hand of Shadow, pulling a dagger from his belt and attacking her with both rapier and off-hand in an unrelenting deluge.

    Mirian kept her stance as water, flowing across the courtyard, making sure he couldn¡¯t pin her in place. Their bladework became incidental to their footwork, and both vied for superior positioning.

    ¡°Hmm!¡± Rostal called. ¡°I don¡¯t believe I taught you. Your footwork is sloppy. Your bladework is abominable!¡±

    Mirian grinned. Only a fool listened to taunts during a duel, and anyways, she¡¯d heard that one before. She switched again to the lightning form, uncoiling with a powerful lunge that Rostal only just avoided. It forced him away from the center of the courtyard, though Mirian got a slash from the parrying dagger for her trouble.

    They recovered, both sweating in the afternoon sun, then engaged again in a clatter of steel. ¡°You must be getting old, if young girls are giving you such a problem!¡± she taunted.

    Rostal stifled a laugh, then came at her again. ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll stop going easy,¡± he said.

    He feinted an overhand slash, but used The Dance of Dusk Waves to enhance his speed and threw his parrying dagger at her.

    Only Mirian¡¯s own use of the stance gave her the reaction time she needed. She deflected the dagger with a burst of raw magic, only to find that Rostal was coming in with the Phoenix¡¯s strength. He smashed his blade into hers, once, twice, then a third time. If Mirian had been able to swap to the Lone Pine stance, she might have weathered it, but her rapier went flying from her hand as Rostal smashed it from her numb fingers.

    Mirian dodged back.

    ¡°Yield?¡± Rostal asked, raising an eyebrow.

    Mirian gave him an evil grin and summoned Eclipse. The bright blade materialized in her hand, and she came at him with the speed of lightning. Rostal¡¯s eyes went wide. He backpedaled rapidly under the onslaught, deflecting Mirian¡¯s flurry of blows. That put the courtyard wall to his back. Mirian swapped to the stance of stone, putting some real power behind her next swing. Rostal blocked it¡ª

    ¡ªbut his blade snapped in half, and Mirian leveled her rapier at his throat.

    Rostal looked at the mythril and adamantium blade. ¡°This is gorgeous,¡± he said. ¡°May I look at it?¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Mirian said, and flipped it around to hand to him.

    Rostal sighed. ¡°I am getting old. In my youth, I would have had you on the followup after the disarm. Never grow old, Mirian. It¡¯s simply a terrible idea. All you get are strange aches and pains, and the hard work you put into your body falls off twice as fast.¡± He glanced up from Eclipse to look at her. ¡°Actually, you have that covered, don¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Mirian said. ¡°It¡¯s at least one of the things I can be thankful for.¡±

    Over eight years of loops, and none of it showed on her face. Thirty. I should be thirty years old now, she thought.

    Rostal ran his finger across the blade. ¡°A masterpiece. Simply a masterpiece. And the classic Alatishian basket-hilt.¡± He flicked Eclipse around, feeling the weight of it. ¡°Fascinating. I want one.¡±

    Mirian laughed. ¡°I did try to see if I could get duplicates. Alas.¡± When Rostal went to hand the sword back, she closed her eyes and let it dematerialize back into her soul.

    ¡°I wonder if the old hierophants knew how to do that.¡±

    ¡°Doubtful,¡± Mirian said. She was fine showing people Eclipse, but there was no way she was going to even mention the word ¡®relicarium¡¯ to anyone. If there was one thing she didn¡¯t want the other time travelers knowing about, it was that. ¡°Say, you mind going on a trip? There¡¯s a phenomenon north of Alkazaria that keeps happening. I want to check it out.¡±

    Rostal¡¯s face stayed passive, but Mirian could tell what he was thinking. She¡¯d already mentioned Ibrahim¡¯s presence near there.

    ¡°We have a few days before Alkazaria is besieged. Besides, I intend to travel overland on the old northern route to avoid the capital. It¡¯s outside the spellwards, but there should be traveler¡¯s obelisks I can repair. We can ride eximontar.¡±

    Rostal shivered. ¡°I will not be riding one of those.¡±

    ¡°No? I can manage feeding mana to both¡­¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not.¡±

    ¡°Camels?¡±

    ¡°Beasts were not meant to be ridden.¡± He paused. ¡°Camels don¡¯t like me either. I suspect they can sense¡­¡±

    Gods, he¡¯s afraid of riding, Mirian realized. The great warrior Rostal. ¡°How do you feel about¡­ flying?¡±

    The dervish pondered that, running hand through his peppered hair. ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ never tried it?¡±

    ¡°Great, we¡¯ll try it. I can only do it in bursts, but it¡¯ll save us several days of travel. Hmm¡­ if we¡¯re not going to take beasts of burden, we¡¯re going to need to cram a lot of supplies on our backs. Do you know how to cook desert drake?¡±

    He grinned. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to pack my spices.¡±

    With that settled, Mirian went around to various shops, gathering traveler¡¯s packs for the two of them and comfortable tents. Rostal packed his traveling cooking set, and Mirian spent the evening scribing most of the utility spells they¡¯d need such as gather water, then made sure her scribing inks were topped off in case the traveler¡¯s obelisks were more damaged than usual. She also bought Rostal a replacement rapier.

    Mirian assumed her Micael disguise, and offered to do something similar for Rostal.

    ¡°No thank you,¡± he said stiffly.

    ¡°Alright,¡± she told him. ¡°Let me know if you change your mind. I don¡¯t know for sure, but we might encounter Ibrahim¡¯s men. I hope not, but it¡¯s a possibility.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll talk to them as I am,¡± he said proudly.

    Mirian slept in one of his many empty guest rooms. In the morning, they departed for the train station.

    ***

    They only looked a little ridiculous carrying their huge packs onto the train. The journey up to Cairnmouth was quick. As they arrived at the station, Mirian kept her eyes out for Deeps agents or Praetorians, but only saw the usual guards.

    While waiting for the train heading east, Mirian picked up a few broadsheets. Word had just reached the city of the colossal defeat of the Baracueli forces a day ago, and of Dawn¡¯s Peace¡¯s rapid advance towards the second capital.

    Interesting. He¡¯s been iterating on the initial victory. This time, it¡¯s shocking enough that they might even send Hanaran¡¯s division.

    There were a few towns on the train tracks before Alkazaria. It was possible that if they continued towards Alkazaria, they¡¯d be just in time to arrive and depart before the siege. However, it seemed that Ibrahim had figured out how to seize the trains by the Southern Range intact, and somehow prevent the line from being sabotaged. His initial force, then, had a shorter distance to move from Rambalda to Alkazaria than they did. That, and it was quite possible he had agents and spies moving ahead of his forces.

    Mirian didn¡¯t want to risk it.

    They got off the train at a town small enough Mirian forgot its name by the time they¡¯d left the platform. She was tempted to count houses to see if Arriroba was bigger.

    The locals thought they were crazy for setting off on the old trader¡¯s route, but they were happy enough to sell them food at inflated prices. Mirian was happy enough to unload her excess silver because all it would do is weigh her down.

    She used the Blooming Red Iron form even as they walked. The increased physical endurance would help her cross the passes to Frostland¡¯s Gate faster, and was always handy in a fight.

    Near evening, Mirian flew them to the next obelisk. Rostal, it turned out, didn¡¯t like flying any more than he liked riding. ¡°Every man should be afraid of heights,¡± he said. ¡°God gave the birds wings and humans legs. It¡¯s enough for an honest soul,¡± he said to Mirian¡¯s light jabs at him.

    After he¡¯d settled down and Mirian had repaired the traveler¡¯s obelisk, they practiced again, with Mirian maintaining the training form as she went through her lunges, parries, and then the various footwork exercises. That night, she ate most of their packed rations.

    It took them three days to make it to a village behind a spellward. By then, the place was in a panic because Dawn¡¯s Peace had besieged Alkazaria. The trains on the northern line hadn¡¯t been cut yet, but they were afraid they might be.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°Have there been any suspicious travelers coming from down south?¡± Mirian asked. ¡°Perhaps¡­ Persaman-looking?¡±

    ¡°Just you,¡± one of the villagers said with a suspicious glare.

    ¡°Ah, we¡¯re about to leave anyways,¡± she told her. ¡°Anything I should know about the northern road?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no spellwards that way,¡± the woman said.

    ¡°Obelisks?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. No one goes there. What¡¯s north?¡±

    ¡°A strange reading. We¡¯re magical researchers,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s a competing group. Just hoping we¡¯re ahead of them."

    Rostal raised an eyebrow at her. He looked less like a magical research than anyone ever. Well, maybe Zayd looked less like one, but it was a close thing.

    ¡°Oh? One of our wells has a broken pump. Can you fix it? We have the silver.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll do it for lodgings and a hot meal,¡± Mirian said. ¡°The Academy is funding our expedition generously, so don¡¯t worry.¡±

    ¡°Which Academy?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Torrviol.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have much of a western accent.¡±

    ¡°Originally I¡¯m from a village east of here.¡±

    ¡°Does he talk much?¡± the woman asked, gesturing at Rostal.

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°When he wants to. Mostly he¡¯s into books,¡± she said.

    The village pump ended up being an easy fix. It was simple glyph degradation. If someone had been by to charge the glyphs on the spell engine, or the engine was using a Sudel transformation sequence to replenish its own glyphs with the excess mana, it would have been an easier fix, but rescribing the glyphs was no problem, and it made the villagers happy enough.

    They set out the next morning with full bellies and full waterskins.

    Two days later, they found a traveler¡¯s obelisk. Every glyph on it was dead, and it was weathered enough that Mirian could only think the damn thing hadn¡¯t been used since before the Unification War. She had initially planned to use one farther north, but farther north there might be nothing left at all.

    ¡°We will head back, then?¡± Rostal asked.

    ¡°No. I want to repair this and take it with us. I want to test something.¡±

    ¡°Take it¡­ with us? The stone monolith? I couldn¡¯t carry a thing like that even in my youth. Maybe with the fire form, if I wanted to hurt myself badly.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that big. One ton, maybe? Two tons at most.¡±

    Rostal gave her a look.

    ¡°Okay, maybe I could do it, but not for as long as I¡¯d need to. We¡¯ll buy a cart from the village. I can reinforce it with shape wood if I need to.

    ¡°And I suppose you want to use your levitation again.¡±

    Mirian grinned at him.

    It took another two days to head back, then three to return with the cart. After that, Mirian released her disguise bindings, again relieved to be back in her own body. Then, it was a matter of digging up the obelisk. She used shape earth to remove the sandy soil by the base. Then with the cart prepared, she took the form of Blooming Iron as she cast her lift object spell.

    Mirian gasped as she cast. Her aura flared and spun, the mana becoming far more difficult to control, but she steeled herself and kept her focus, and kept pouring mana into the glyphs in her spellbook. With a tremble, the obelisk lifted from the ground and into the air. Carefully, she turned it sideways and set it down. The cart groaned.

    She exhaled, then sat down hard on the sandy ground.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Rostal asked.

    ¡°Fine. I can use Blooming Iron when I cast,¡± she told him.

    The dervish looked at her and frowned. ¡°I don¡¯t even know enough to tell you if that¡¯s a bad idea. But it feels like a bad idea.¡±

    ¡°It makes it a lot harder, that¡¯s for sure. Give me a moment, then I can start pulling the cart along.¡±

    For the next four days, Mirian used her magic to drag the cart through the scrublands to where the hills began and the climate shifted to something halfway between a taiga and highland desert. Their progress was glacial. She constantly had to rest, and eventually Mirian risked drinking her third mana elixir of the week just so she could rest less. It seemed to her that her work in soul magic should allow her to drink more mana elixirs without a problem, though it was something she intended to test carefully.

    As they traveled, she killed two boreal drakes and a scimitar lion. The two-headed vultures were happy to circle above them until Rostal was done cutting them steaks, then they would gleefully swarm the carcass. Each night, Mirian charged the traveler¡¯s obelisk.

    By then, the roads had entirely disappeared. What little paths had survived the years had been washed away or overgrown. At least out of the scrublands, water became less scarce again, and Mirian could stop using gather water each night and instead just use cleanse water, a much more efficient spell. Fortunately, the vegetation was sparse enough there was always at least some path they could take, though their progress slowed to a crawl. Her aura had never been more robust, but she had also never dragged around a cart with a two-ton rock on it for several days.

    Finally, by the 22nd of Solem, they made it to their destination. Mirian checked, then rechecked her maps. They were fully free of human civilization. Mirian had expected to find a lot more myrvites. There were plenty, but nothing like in the numbers she¡¯d read about in the old stories. Maybe they exaggerated, she thought. After all, a mercenary group that let their caravan get ransacked by a hungry manticore might want to keep its reputation intact. Or maybe the merchants added the drama to make sure the insurance paid out. Did they have insurance back then? she wondered idly.

    Either way, while the area was wild, with no human civilization in sight, it lacked the primal touch she¡¯d been expecting.

    That night, she stayed up in the light of the full moon. ¡°There,¡± she said to Rostal. ¡°That¡¯s strange. The mushroom trees are glowing. I knew they drew a bit of mana from the ground, but I¡¯ve never seen them glow.¡±

    Rostal shrugged. ¡°Perhaps you should have brought an actual magical researcher with you.¡±

    Mirian pondered that. ¡°I wonder if I could convince Viridian to take a trip with me. He would certainly know something about it.¡±

    The next day, she moved the obelisk up to the crest of a hill where they had a bit of shade from some twisted looking conifers and a much better view of the surrounding area. When it was clear, she could just make out what she thought were the Endelice mountains, though it also could have been distant clouds. Hunting myrvites was easy when she could levitate, see their souls glowing with magic, then instantly kill them with a single spell. Rostal added his combination of spices and vegetables to the drake meat they cut. Stewed for several hours, it was an exquisite dish.

    In the meantime, they trained.

    Rostal put her through the exercises again and again, but eventually, he told her, ¡°You are pushing me too hard. Relax a little. Your body and soul need time to recover and internalize their changes.¡±

    The old dervish seemed to enjoy the scenery. For him, there was an exotic quality to it. He especially liked the birds.

    Mirian got a little more information about Ibrahim out of him.

    ¡°He was always going to be a revolutionary,¡± Rostal said about the southern time traveler. ¡°He was obsessed with tracing who was responsible for the deaths in his family. He needed justice like a man needs air.¡±

    ¡°Did he find the killers?¡±

    ¡°Hmm. In a sense. There was a militia group that did it. Persaman through and through. But he wanted to know why they did it. So he found who was paying them, and it was a Baracueli mining company. A private one. But that wasn¡¯t good enough, so he wanted to find out who funded them. Turns out, most of the old noble families. The Palamas first, of course, but also the Bardas, the Allards, and the Sacristars. And, many of the members of Parliament. He holds them responsible.¡±

    Mirian considered that. It made sense. She didn¡¯t blame the Akanan soldiers as much as she did the generals, and worse than them were the conspirators. How much difference was there between actively plotting a war and just letting one that served your interests¡­ happen? ¡°Do you agree?¡±

    ¡°I dislike following the chain of responsibility. It feels to me like it absolves the individuals. A dozen people could have changed their actions and his cousins and aunt and mother and brother would still be alive, but they didn¡¯t. But the bigger problem is that you cannot carry fire in your heart forever. In the end, it will burn you to ash, and the legions of those who have not faced justice will still be endless. I just wanted peace.¡±

    Her thoughts drifted. How much did the time loop change the equation? I could make so many face justice for what they¡¯ve done. For what they will do. But I also might be able to change it. What punishment would General Cearsia deserve if I could manipulate her to fight by my side? Or are our beliefs so different I could never change her?

    There were no easy answers. If I could save everyone in Torrviol, but it meant she never accounted for her crimes¡­ would it be worth it? Of course, that was the kind of hypothetical she¡¯d heard in philosophy class. The real world was never so simple. But unlike them, I can know the outcomes of my choices, then go back and make sure I make the right ones.

    And, for all that Ibrahim hated Baracuel, and for all that his hate was justified, who had actually suffered? The soldiers and the civilians along the border. The farmers along the Ibaihan River. The people of Alkazaria.

    That night, she didn¡¯t sleep, but it wasn¡¯t the distant calls of the nightmelders or the hissing hoots of the stygala owls. She was simply thinking, until at some point she faded into dreams.

    The Ominian was there to greet her again. Together, they walked across the land in silence.

    ***

    On the 28th of Solem, Mirian woke to the ground trembling. Earthquake? she thought, sitting up from her bedroll. Is that what causes the anomaly?

    Then her arcane sense started tingling. Then it started growing in intensity.

    Adrenaline shocked her out of her grogginess. She threw on her jacket and boots and scrambled outside while Rostal was muttering something as he looked for his shoes.

    She looked out from the cliffside. There was a patch of mushroom trees and a bare area with a bunch of rocks.

    No, that wasn¡¯t right. There had been a patch of glowing mushroom trees, but they¡¯d been churned up and knocked over. She caught the sight of black carapace and something moving, but something wasn¡¯t right. It was moving through the solid rock like the rock was liquid, only the stone was still solid.

    There were some myrvites who could move briefly through the fourth spatial dimension, but this one¡ª

    Nothing can be that big! she thought.

    Five more trees tipped over and crashed as more of the black-shelled creature emerged from the ground. Rostal stood next to her and gaped. ¡°Might of God, what¡­?¡±

    Mirian¡¯s arcane sense was still going off. It was like Luspire was casting a fireball right next to her, only she was looking at this beast from nearly a kilometer away. There was a grinding sound, and the earth shook again. Arcane geysers erupted around the colossal myrvite as it climbed out of the ground.

    The beast had eight elephantine legs, but was covered in a huge shell that swirled with black and white like dark marble. The shell was covered in rows of spines that now swayed as the creature stretched out. It let out a tremendous roar, and Mirian had to cover her ears. It wasn¡¯t just a roar, though. She felt it scrape away pieces of her auric mana with its pressure, and it felt like her arcane sense was burning. Mirian screamed herself as she dropped to her knees, hands still pressed against her ears.

    Mercifully, the roar ended, echoing across the cliffs and hills like thunder. Then, the beast turned to face them.

    She could see rows of predatory eyes glowing red under the shadows of its dark shell, and see two sets of pincers glinting in the light. The front of the shell was raised up like a hump, and from the front of its body that wasn¡¯t sheltered by the thick plates, dozens of thin tentacles covered in more razor-like spines flailed about. One grabbed a nearby tree. It didn¡¯t eat it. Instead, the tree began to wither.

    ¡°Burning hellfire,¡± Rostal whispered. ¡°What in the hells is that?¡±

    Mirian had no answer. The thing was the size of a leviathan, except it was on the ground.

    And it was moving towards them.

 Chapter 136 - Discovery

    The colossal myrvite let out another roar as it thundered forward. Mirian covered her ears again.

    It moved like a turtle, slowly but inexorably, but it was large enough that each stride covered a surprising distance. Mirian shifted to the Lone Pine form as it let out another roar. She still felt a wave of power stripping her aura, but the earth dervish method helped her weather it with less loss.

    As it approached, her arcane sense felt like it was on fire. The beast radiated arcane energy like nothing else she¡¯d felt. ¡°I¡¯m going to fly us out,¡± she said. ¡°Ready?¡±

    Rostal nodded. She grabbed him with lift person, then activated her levitation wand.

    As soon as they began to rise, one of the waving tentacles pointed right at them and shot out a dark beam.

    Mirian felt the mana fueling both spells crumble from her grip. Instead of pushing through the glyphs, the flows grew chaotic, and her attempts to reassert control of the mana failed. With a yelp, she and Rostal plummeted from thirty feet up. They¡¯d already begun to leave the hill they were on top of, so instead of falling flat onto the ground, Mirian smacked into a bush. She heard branches snap and cloth tearing as she rolled off it down the steep slope, bouncing off a sapling, then crashing into at least three other things as she flailed about, grasping at the crumbling, sandy soil for purchase. Disoriented, she made out a flash of cliff approaching, and summoned Eclipse. With a shout, she plunged the blade into the cliffside.

    Her arm wrenched and she screamed, but the blade lodged firmly in the ground. A tiny landslide of soil and small rocks tumbled off the slope down the cliff below. The little landslide continued as the DOOM, DOOM, DOOM! of the myrvite¡¯s footsteps sounded.

    Mirian cast her levitation spell again, this time in a short burst, canceling it just as the beast shot out another disruptive beam. She¡¯d regained enough height that she could scramble along the steep slope. She started moving along it, switching from the Lone Pine form that had helped her weather the fall to The Spear That Cuts Water so that her feet could find better purchase on the treacherous ground.

    When she looked back, scanning about for where Rostal had fallen, she saw the fool standing at the base of the cliff, blade drawn. Somehow, he¡¯d survived the fifty foot fall and was staring up at the beast, rapier drawn.

    Mirian shot out a lift person spell to try and pull him back, but one of the tentacles shot out and blocked it while two others came at Rostal. He slashed the first, then vaulted off the second as it tried to grab him, diving under a third that came sweeping down like a scythe. Miran¡¯s spell dissolved on spell resistance so powerful that she felt a shock of feedback from it.

    She saw Rostal get one more good slash, but there were too many tentacles, and only one of him. A spined tendril wrapped around his torso, impaling and crushing him. Mirian¡¯s eyes went wide as she saw what happened next: Rostal¡¯s soul energy didn¡¯t dissipate. It was instead sucked towards the gaping mouth of the beast, the myrvite¡¯s four pincers glowing with crimson light as it opened its maw wide. She could see rows and rows of thin spiny teeth.

    Shit, was all she could think.

    She sent out another burst of a levitation spell, then dropped it again as it sent out a beam, sending her forward along the slope to where the ground was flatter. She dodged through a patch of brush, aiming for where the ground had the cover of trees. The beast was at least a hundred feet tall and seemed to have no problem crushing and sucking the souls out of the vegetation too, but that would slow it down. Mirian had torn something important in one of her legs, and she was definitely bleeding from something. She sent healing energy from her repository into her leg, but ignored the other wounds. There was no time to figure out where she was hurt.

    As she passed behind another bush, she sent out a greater illusion that looked like herself, sprinting at a right angle from her actual direction of travel. But when she glanced through the canopy to see if the behemoth had taken the bait, it hadn¡¯t.

    Of course. It¡¯s not just looking at visible light or even heat. If it can eat souls, it can see them. Fuck. Fuck!

    She dismissed the illusion. She¡¯d reached a patch of flat ground through the trees and took off through it at a dead sprint. The footsteps of the beast thundered after her, and she knew she was in trouble when she glanced back because it was looming larger through the trees. There was the CRACK! of trunks being splintered as the creature crashed through them. The thin pines of the boreal forest yielded like grass to an elephant. It was barely even slowing down.

    Mirian changed her form to The Dance of Dusk Waves to gain extra speed, but she was running out of breath.

    The beast let out another roar, and this time Mirian found herself stumbling, dazed.

    Shit, she thought again, feeling the presence of the thing behind her growing. There was only one option left. She grabbed Eclipse by the blade and turned it towards her heart, ignoring how it cut into her hands, then plunged it into her chest.

    Pain lanced through her and she fell to her knees¡ªbut she wasn¡¯t dead. She wasn¡¯t sure if she¡¯d missed her heart or if she simply wasn¡¯t dying as fast as she¡¯d wanted, but one of the tendrils grabbed her. She felt the spines digging painfully into her leg, lodging in like the teeth of a bog lion. Then, there was an immense pressure on her soul. She grabbed for her aura, but found it was being siphoned away. Eclipse fell from her grasp and¡ª

    ***

    ¡ªShe was in the dream, in the Mausoleum of the Ominian. The Elder God stared down at her from Their throne, unmoving, but she knew They were watching. The places where They¡¯d been pierced still oozed ichor, and there was a silence so deep it seemed more eternal than the stars, more unbreakable than the mountains and¡ª

    ***

    ¡ªThen she was awake in her bed, screaming.

    ¡°Wooo. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Shit!¡± Mirian said as she recovered. ¡°Sorry Lily. Don¡¯t worry, don¡¯t worry it¡¯s¡­ don¡¯t worry.¡±

    ¡°Gods, Mirian! It sounded like you were being murdered! Are you¡­?¡±

    She closed her eyes. ¡°All good. Allll good,¡± she lied.

    She tried to reconstruct those last moments. As painful as they were, they were important. I was dying, but not yet dead. But my soul is intact. She cast around with her senses, feeling it. It was harder to see without the focus, but she could still see the shapes and currents of it. Eclipse is still there. So it came with me. She breathed a sigh of relief. Then a drop of water hit her on the head, and she looked up with a grimace. ¡°The fucking hole,¡± she muttered, and grabbed her spellbook so she could telekinetically shut off the water heater above her.

    ¡°What?¡± Lily said, looking up at the ceiling.

    Mirian closed her eyes again, thinking. The pieces of a puzzle were falling into place. This isn¡¯t the first time. Specter¡¯s curse wand shouldn¡¯t have killed me, even if I did have a head injury. Whatever is embedded in my soul and is pulling it back¡ªit must react to excessive soul damage. That¡¯s important. If there is a way to remove the thing in the soul, I have to make sure I don¡¯t trigger it. Then she thought of the dream. My soul must go somewhere else first. There¡¯s that time in between sometimes when I die early. Strange. Where would it go? It¡¯s not just floating around, or that beast would have grabbed it like he did Rostal¡¯s.

    ¡°¡ªkinda freaking me out a little Mirian, are you even listening? Why is there a hole in the ceiling?¡± Lily was saying.

    She looked at her soul again. She certainly hadn¡¯t escaped unscathed. There were disruptions in the flow, and dark patches of destabilization inside it. It doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re invulnerable. Too much damage could still be a problem, just like with Soul Destabilization Syndrome.

    ¡°Mirian?¡±

    Then there was the last thing. I have to figure out what the hell that beast was.

    She shook her head. ¡°Sorry, Lily. I¡¯m okay. I¡¯ll get the hole fixed. Some drunk students probably lost control of a spell or something.¡±

    ***

    Mirian decided to take it easy for a cycle, and make sure her soul healed properly. As far as she could tell, most of the damage was superficial and could easily be repaired, but it would take time and meditation. The connection to her auric mana was harder to discern. As the first day progressed, it seemed to be at levels above what she¡¯d been able to do with a fully healed soul, but there were places where the aura flow was disrupted. She was pretty sure she knew what that meant. The Blooming Iron technique can be used for strengthening arcane casting, not just strength and speed. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Of course, just because she was resting for a cycle didn¡¯t mean she would get sloppy. She killed Specter and Hache, burned both the imposter¡¯s hideout and the spy¡¯s headquarters, then made sure Magistrate Ada knew who to round up and where they¡¯d try to hide.

    Mirian also made sure to drop by Professor Viridian¡¯s class near the end so she could ask him a few questions.

    ¡°Professor, I was doing some extracurricular reading, and one of the books made a claim that there¡¯s land-bound myrvites the size of leviathans. It described a giant myrvite with eight legs, a black and white shell, tentacles, and a mouth with four pincers. Apparently it had some nasty natural spells, too. Have you ever heard of anything like that?¡±

    Viridian pondered that. ¡°It¡¯s hard to disentangle tall tales from truth, especially in older sources,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯d be quite skeptical of the claims you read about. However, despite rumors to the contrary, I don¡¯t actually know about every myrvite in existence.¡± He gave her a small smile.

    ¡°Is there anyone who has done research on, uh, the legends of big myrvites? It does seem implausible that something so big would exist. I mean, the territory it would need¡­ then thinking of mating habits and¡­ I mean, it does seem far-fetched. How would heritability even select for some of those traits?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t usually recommend students meet each other, but Calisto Ennecus¡¯s family has done a great deal of research into rare myrvites. I used to work with her father. I¡¯m afraid much of what they know is proprietary, and not information they would sell cheaply, either. But they might be willing to part with some esoteric trivia, as long as it didn¡¯t impact their myrvite hunting income.¡± He gave a heavy sigh. ¡°Everything is business these days, and it takes precedence over the larger ecological problems that¡ª¡±

    They were interrupted by a scream from the courtyard. She¡¯d left one of the wyvern cage doors slightly ajar, and so that was the sound of one of the spies getting a limb bitten. Usually, it was the left leg.

    ¡°Apologies. That came from the myrvite pens,¡± Viridian muttered. ¡°I better go see what that is.¡±

    Mirian excused herself to go continue her preparations. As she walked, it felt like there was an itch in her brain. Ennecus. I¡¯ve heard that name before, but where? Even running through her memory exercises, she couldn¡¯t quite place it.

    ***

    Two days later, Mirian assumed her Micael identity, just in case Troytin arrived early without his Akanan allies. She took on an apprenticeship with Professor Endresen, but avoided Marva. She made sure to change up several small but wide-reaching variables in the town, mostly thorugh spreading rumors. It was still important to change up the variables in a cycle. She would offer the fool no refuge of predictability.

    The Akanan time traveler finally did arrive, coming in by the air yacht as he usually did with the usual crew. They¡¯d brought with them some new devices, though from what she could tell, the divination machines weren¡¯t dedicated to search, but to research. Several assistants helped levitate them over to Torrian Tower, while the Torrviol professors looked on eagerly.

    Mirian stayed in the shadows and watched.

    Troytin¡¯s efforts, from what she could pick up, seemed to be split. Archmage Tyrcast was endlessly annoyed at him, saying at one point, ¡°Oh, just make the airship go faster? Why, I wish I¡¯d thought of that myself!¡±

    It was an amusing enough quote that it circulated around the apprentices. One of Professor Cassius¡¯s disciples had told her over lunch. Meanwhile, work continued on the Divine Monument, but she knew from Jei and Torres that they were making no progress at all.

    His latest efforts at reestablishing control over Specter¡¯s networks was moving at a lethargic pace, especially because Mirian was releasing most of the zephyr falcons in the region before he arrived in Torrviol. Troytin had started bringing his own zephyr falcons to send, but the falcons were trained to move between set points they were familiar with. The ones he brought could only return to the places they knew, which apparently was Arborholm and Vadriach. Those places, in turn, could send a zephyr falcon to somewhere like Cairnmouth or Palendurio, but it slowed down his efforts significantly. That, and by the time he arrived in Torrviol, he now had the Deeps turning a very worried eye down south. Ibrahim¡¯s invasion was not a part of their big conspiracy, and while the Akanans weren¡¯t worried, the Baracueli conspirators and their elements in the state certainly were.

    On the 12th, Torrviol was abound with rumors that General Hanaran had been sent south to help lift the siege of Alkazaria. Mirian found it passably interesting, but was more interested about what Professor Viridian would say in his opening lecture for Myrvite Ecology 370. She¡¯d also sat next to Calisto, who had glanced at her, but was now ignoring her.

    Viridian paced back and forth in front of the chalkboard as the bells tolled, distantly echoing through an open window somewhere. ¡°By now, you¡¯re no doubt familiar with both my lecture style and examination process, since you¡¯ve had to take at least four of my courses to get to this one,¡± he said, glancing at Mirian¡ªMicael to his eyes¡ªas he did. ¡°Or perhaps you haven¡¯t, given the incident with the registrar¡¯s office. Regardless, you are here for ecology, so let us begin there.

    ¡°There is a severely understudied aspect of myrvite ecology. The discipline began with several of the guilds¡ª¡± Mirian noted Calisto smiled at that, ¡°¡ªas a way to ensure they could continue to harvest the myrvite spell organs so critical to civilization. Biologists have long discussed the evolution of flora and fauna since our earliest records. It seems humanity has taken for granted the concept; it has been obvious and unquestioned. Yet, perhaps it shouldn¡¯t be. In more mundane organisms, it seems to be the correct explanation. But what of myrvites?¡±

    Here, Viridian drew a quick representation of a spell organ. ¡°Take, for example, the slithering swarm. This myrvite is only found in the labyrinth. By what selective pressure did it come across such a habitat? By what selective pressure did it gain the use of its shadow-arms? These ¡®arms¡¯ can be replicated with a nine-glyph spell. There are some indications the slithering swarm has magichemical sacs that replicate the function of these glyphs. Alone, all of these glyphs would be useless. Unlike the brain or other fantastically complex organs, there¡¯s no apparent iterative process that would seem to result in a myrvite gaining such a complex spell.¡±

    He paused and looked around the class. ¡°Or, consider the intact ecology sites found within the Labyrinth. There are records of a leviathan being found intact inside a colossal Labyrinth chamber¡ªa chamber two hundred miles from the coast. What accounts for this? Perhaps the Labyrinth itself is modifying the evolution and traits of myrvites. After all, the Elder Gods did not build the Labyrinth for no purpose. If we cannot deduce the function of the Labyrinth through study of its structure, perhaps we can deduce its purpose through its effects.¡±

    There were a few murmurs throughout the class. Professor Viridian¡¯s lectures were never scripted, but here, he was departing from the textbooks significantly.

    ¡°We will study this question throughout the winter quarter. In order to even begin to discuss it, we will need to understand the complex factors that influence ecology.¡±

    Viridian wrote several words on the chalkboard: organisms, climate, resources, and interactions. ¡°My recommendation is that you categorize your notes in these four conceptual frameworks. In organisms, we will study heritability, traits, and spell organs. Resources and interactions you should understand from previous classes, and this will be an exercise in application. But with climate, I would like to say a few more blasphemous words.¡±

    He smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve been having some conversations with our visiting guests from Akana, and Professor Denton shared with me the most fascinating development. Akana Praediar is developing wondrous spell engines that can perform calculations automatically, using the mathematical relationship of several glyphs to move energy about. In the end, it produces an illusion. When Archmage Luspire asked what I would like from a collaboration, I asked for a very specific one they¡¯ve been developing. And they have delivered it.¡±

    With a dramatic flourish, Viridian telekinetically opened a closet in the room and pulled out a machine.

    Mirian started. That¡¯s new, she thought.

    ¡°Here, I have input the properties of the oceans and continents¡ªsimplified of course¡ªand their ability to incoming solar light. I have added the mountains and Enteria¡¯s spin. I have input initial conditions, such as ocean temperature. The machine then attempts to simulate the climate patterns of Enteria. Observe,¡± he said.

    Mirian was on the edge of her seat, and she wasn¡¯t the only one. She could tell Viridian was feeling especially pleased with himself, and that meant he¡¯d discovered something. Even if it was built for this purpose, adjusting the parameters of the spell engine must have taken him the whole break, she knew. I wonder if he slept!

    She watched the machine whirred to life. An illusionary square lit up the room, bathing everyone in blues, greens, and browns. It was a map of the known world. It made sense Viridian had only used the known portions in his model¡ªno one knew what was across the larger oceans, and even Akanan airships would struggle to brave the deadly storms. She watched as colored puffs of atmosphere settled, and then the machine lit up with blobs of color across the continents.

    Several students gasped. Some¡ªprobably those who needed to brush up on their geography¡ªlooked around confused.

    ¡°The white areas represent the frostlands and tundra. The yellow areas are arid, the dark green where we would expect temperate forests, and the light green where we would expect tropical environments. You see the problem,¡± he said. ¡°Who would like to comment?¡±

    Calisto¡¯s hand shot up immediately, as did several others.

    ¡°Yes. Calisto.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s wrong,¡± she blurted out.

    ¡°Yes. Elaborate.¡±

    ¡°The whole climate map is off! The device put the beginning of the frostlands some three hundred miles north of where they actually start. There¡¯s an entire temperate region that doesn¡¯t exist. And in east Baracuel, it has forests instead of the arid scrublands that are really there. And Persama isn¡¯t a desert!¡±

    ¡°Wonderful, yes. How absolutely fascinating,¡± he said. ¡°So then what might account for the massive differences?¡±

    Another student said, ¡°The model¡¯s garbage,¡± which got a few guffaws.

    ¡°Certainly. It doesn¡¯t reproduce Enteria¡¯s climate, except in a few places further south. But simply dismissing it isn¡¯t very interesting. What¡¯s far more interesting is to ask: why? For by answering that question, we may discover something.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a missing factor,¡± offered one of the sixth years sitting behind Mirian.

    ¡°Precisely. But I have input the largest factors. So what could it be?¡±

    Mirian saw what he was getting at. She was trying to lay low, but she couldn¡¯t help herself. Her hand shot up, and Viridian nodded at her. ¡°The Labyrinth and the leylines,¡± she said.

    Viridian was absolutely beaming, his eyes twinkling as he said, ¡°What an intriguing hypothesis. We shall have to explore it as the class continues.¡±

    Much to Mirian¡¯s disappointment, after his introduction into the big mysteries, Viridian moved back to going over the foundational concepts of heredity and its influence on animal traits. She studiously took notes, and found Calisto glancing over at her notebook.

    As soon as class ended, she put on her overly charming smile, the one she¡¯d tried so many times to use on Nicolus to get what she wanted, and said, ¡°Hey, you seem to know your stuff. Want to be study partners? I¡¯m Calisto.¡± She extended a hand.

    Mirian had been planning on asking her the same thing, but the girl had beat her to it. ¡°Micael. And sure,¡± she said, shaking her hand. ¡°You know any good places?¡±

 Chapter 137 - Recuperation

    Calisto, when she wasn¡¯t arguing with or attempting to manipulate Nicolus, was a surprisingly pleasant person to be around. She also found Bainrose an intolerable place to study.

    ¡°That musty old castle is fifty percent dust and twenty percent spiders by weight. No thank you! This is much nicer,¡± she said when they sat down at the place she¡¯d chosen. There was a little cafe north of the old theater, but south of the restaurant Torres liked to eat at. Mirian had probably walked by it a hundred times without paying it much attention, but it was a cozy little place. The cafe was set in a little courtyard with a cherry tree and a tiny but well-kept garden. Three little warmth spell engines kept it comfortably heated despite the arrival of winter.

    They¡¯d agreed to meet on Fourthday so that they had more than one lecture to review, but also so that Calisto¡¯s end-of-the-week plans with her friends wouldn¡¯t be interfered with.

    ¡°Do the cherry blossoms ever get in your teacup in the spring?¡± Mirian asked. She missed spring and summer. They were the only two tolerable seasons in Torrviol.

    ¡°That would just be romantic,¡± Calisto said. ¡°I¡¯d be more worried about a bug dropping down from the tree. Let me see that notebook of yours.¡±

    It was a new notebook, since it wouldn¡¯t do to be carrying around her old notes. Mirian handed it over.

    ¡°You have really neat handwriting for a boy,¡± she said, flipping through it. ¡°No offense.¡±

    Mirian chuckled. ¡°I know how we can be.¡±

    ¡°I like your little diagrams. And your glyphs are practically perfect. Better than Viridian¡¯s on the chalkboard.¡± She smiled haughtily. ¡°I have a good eye for these sort of things.¡±

    The self-importance must have driven Nicolus insane, Mirian thought. ¡°You do,¡± she said. She didn¡¯t even need Nicolus¡¯s advice to understand the Calisto liked flattery. ¡°How do you know so much about myrvite ecology? Almost any time Viridian asked a question, you had an answer ready.¡±

    ¡°Well, I couldn¡¯t answer all the questions. Gotta give some of the other students a chance. But I guess you could say it runs in the family. We¡¯ve run one of the myrvite hunter guilds for generations, so I was learning myrvite names before I could walk. You¡¯ve heard of the Ennecus Guild? That¡¯s us.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not,¡± she lied. It sounded familiar, but she was still having trouble placing it. But Micael would have no reason to know anything about it.

    She waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Well, of course you wouldn¡¯t have. I¡¯m sure in Akana Praediar everyone¡¯s fawning over those big companies and their fancy spell engines. But what do they run on? Not just the fossilized myrvite. Virdian¡¯s new machine needs thousands of glyphs, and those don¡¯t grow on trees! Not all of them, at least.¡±

    Mirian frowned thoughtfully. ¡°Does the Ennecus Group have any business dealings with the companies across the Rift Sea?¡±

    Calisto rolled her eyes and gave a dramatic flourish. ¡°No, of course not. They¡¯re so hard to deal with. You really have to know somebody...¡±

    Mirian nodded along as Calisto continued, taking mental notes. I just need to learn a bit more about Akana Praediar¡¯s joint stock companies and I can drop references like I know them. She won¡¯t know enough about things to challenge Micael¡¯s knowledge. That can get me access not just to her myrivte knowledge, but to another Labyrinth entrance. Though she might know something about it already¡­

    Then, the realization struck her. Ennecus Group! Oh Gods, that¡¯s why I recognize the name. They run one of the expeditions in Frostland¡¯s Gate, too! She tried to keep her face passive, and tuned back into what Calisto was saying.

    ¡°¡­and that¡¯s why Sylvester Aurum¡¯s companies are going to hit a growth limit. Akana is already wiping out their native myrvite populations at completely unsustainable rates. It¡¯s just stupid, short-term thinking. I don¡¯t know why everyone thinks he¡¯s so smart,¡± Calisto finished.

    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m doing archival studies, and Endresen gave me this paper¡­ well, long story short, it didn¡¯t have anything to do with glyphs. But it did describe this absolutely colossal beast that was sighted at the border of the scrublands¡­¡±

    Mirian described the creature as best she could, including its life-sucking capabilities.

    Calisto¡¯s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ¡°Where did you get that paper? Can I see it?¡±

    Mirian gave her what she hoped looked like a sheepish smile. ¡°Uh, it¡¯s in some secure archives in Torrian Tower. Removing it would trip an alarm ward and¡­ uh, I mean I can ask her, but probably not.¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± Calisto said. ¡°If you could find a way to get me it¡­ I would be very grateful.¡± She leaned forward and waggled her eyebrows. Is she trying to be seductive?

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do. But what do you know about it?¡±

    ¡°Ah, not much. It was my grandfather¡¯s research project. Sire Ennecus, before he pissed off the Bardas patriarch. Frankly, I think our family should still have the knight title. It has a nice ring to it. But the myrvite¡­ it¡¯s got to be a Cataclysm Beast. Apophagorga, from the sounds of it.¡±

    ¡°Cataclysm Beast?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. You know, like the one the First Prophet sacrificed his life to kill so that the people of Viaterria would be free to reestablish the old cities again? ¡®Blah blah blah, now with my blood I consecrate this land and free us from a thousand years of terror, etc. etc.¡¯ The Elder Titan.¡±

    Mirian thought about that. ¡°I¡¯d sort of assumed some of the¡­ fancier stuff in the oldest writings were¡­ exaggerated?¡±

    ¡°I mean, it¡¯s a reasonable assumption. The farther back you go, the less stuff survives. And it¡¯s not like they ever found the bones of the Elder Titan or anything. Unless the Luminates have something stashed in a vault or something?¡±

    They don¡¯t, Mirian knew.

    ¡°If we found one¡­ ugh. I can¡¯t believe the Triarchs lost it.¡±

    ¡°Lost what?¡±

    ¡°The arcane catalyst the First Prophet got off the Cataclysm Beast. It was handed down for generations, and then there¡¯s the collapse. With all the fighting and destruction, all the records of where the catalyst might have gone were destroyed. It could be languishing in the desert somewhere.¡± She sighed. ¡°My grandfather was obsessed with finding it, or another Cataclysm Beast. Because, you see, there¡¯s sightings of titanic myrvites after the First Prophet, cross-referenced from different sources and everything, and some historical fragments about the different ones. He spent decades, first on research, then on expeditions. But he never found one. He would tell me stories about them when I was little. Those were always my favorite.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d love to hear about them. The records don¡¯t really talk about how the First Prophet defeated the Elder Titan. Or much about it. And the, uh, my church priest always made it sound like it was a metaphorical beast.¡±

    Calisto took a sip of tea. ¡°It¡¯s not in the official records. You have to search the apocrypha and weird archives. A bunch of the archives are in Persama. I always wanted to go adventuring there when I was a kid. Pity what¡¯s happened to the place. I hope the Baracuel Army teaches those bloodthirsty rebels a thing or two. We should get back to studying, though.¡±

    Mirian acquiesced, though she was only half considering the material. Her mouth was watering, and it wasn¡¯t for the cafe¡¯s food. That¡¯s the arcane catalyst I need to use for my soulbound spellbook. It has to be. That myrvite titan was using both soul magic and arcane magic. If there¡¯s anything that can make a breakthrough in Xipuatl¡¯s unified theory¡­ that has to be it. Then, I¡¯ll just need to locate the relicarium.

    Eventually, she brought her thoughts back down to the present. After all, as exciting as it was, she would need to find a way to kill the massive thing.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    As skimmed through the texts Viridian had assigned, one of the textbooks they¡¯d checked out from the library gave her pause. ¡°Are these heritability traits here based on the latest research? This isn¡¯t like one of those philosophers who thought women had an extra tooth but never bothered to check, is it?¡±

    Calisto peered over her shoulder. ¡°The eyes example is a bit simplistic, but it¡¯s basically true. Characteristics like height are highly variable, but eye color is pretty straightforward.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Mirian asked. It was weird to think of her body as containing thousands of glyph-like structures, so tiny as to be invisible even with several layered lensing spells, all which carried traits with mundane chemical signals. We¡¯re not myrvites, but we do have magic. And the chemical explanation is so complicated!

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Calisto said. ¡°My aunt breeds eximontar. Eye color and carapace shading are two of the simple heritable traits. Red eyes is recessive, orange eyes is dominant.¡±

    Mirian stared at the textbook. ¡°I met someone who had gray eyes, but she said neither her parents nor grandparents had gray eyes.¡±

    Calisto shrugged. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s easy then. She¡¯s adopted.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s heart caught in her throat, and she felt a strange tingling sensation. That can¡¯t be right.

    The other girl saw her reaction and said, ¡°Uhh¡­ does she not know that? Awkward. Well, maybe don¡¯t tell her. But if you write about exceptions to that rule, be prepared for Viridian to mark it wrong. You can plead your case during his office hours, but if you don¡¯t bring a convincing research reference he¡¯ll very, very politely tell you to piss off.¡±

    They finished up the study session, but Mirian was paying even less attention.

    Gods, what do I even say to my parents when I do find them? she wondered. What happened to me? And why¡­ why would they keep it a secret? Why would¡­

    She had the urge to head down to Palendurio and ransack the Department of Public Safety offices until she found answers.

    Patience, she could hear her dad saying. Except, that wasn¡¯t who he was, was he?

    The discomfort wormed through her for hours, and her thoughts kept turning back to the revelation. She felt her soul in turmoil again, though this time the damage wasn¡¯t from the outside. That night, she levitated to the top of Torrian Tower and let the cold wind scour her as she meditated.

    There¡¯s no point clutching those emotions. The shock. The hurt. The fear. There¡¯s no point rehashing all the questions I have, she told herself. I¡¯ll find answers, it¡¯ll just take time. Until then¡­ I have a mission. I can¡¯t let anything distract me from it. What¡¯s at stake is too important.

    She forced her mind to turn from her distress to the myrvite titan she¡¯d encountered. Apophagorga. What kind of spells will I need to bring you down?

    It wasn¡¯t a fight she was winning alone, that was for sure. But she had some ideas about that.

    ***

    The Akanans were working on a divination device that was ostensibly for the Divine Monument, but clearly had applications for hunting her down. It mostly seemed to mostly be targeting specific anti-divination glyph sequences. Mirian noted which ones so she could avoid using them in her usual wards.

    After Troytin and the Akanan delegation left Torrviol, Mirian left Torrviol as well, heading down to Cairnmouth so she could learn more about the magichemical trade from the merchants there. Troytin hadn¡¯t bothered to destroy the train going down there this time since General Hanaran¡¯s force was already committed to defending Alkazaria, so the only delay was because of a hole in the tracks caused by the usual arcane eruption.

    As the crisis developed and Akana Praediar blockaded the port, there were thousands of sailors with nothing to do but trade rumors and get into trouble. An especially drunk sailor tried to recruit Mirian into a half-baked scheme to smuggle alcohol across the sea to dodge the usual tariffs. Mirian politely left him as he puked his guts out in an alley, next to a different drunk sailor who was pissing on the wall.

    Eventually, she found a more subdued tavern where the ship and warehouse bookkeepers congregated and learned a bit more about how magichemical exports worked. Calisto had been right: it was lucrative, but the big Akanan companies liked to set long-term contracts with the major suppliers, who in turn only bought small time hunter¡¯s goods for suppressed prices. Mirian was completely unsurprised to learn that the Bardas noble family had pressured the legislature to make the trade of magichemicals highly regulated, then made sure their competition was constantly tied up in endless inspections and minor fines. Somehow, the inspectors never found any flaws in the Bardas warehouses or ships.

    ¡°So there¡¯s also the smugglers,¡± one bookkeeper explained over a pint. ¡°And you¡¯d think that¡¯d be unregulated, but the Syndicate keeps a close eye on it. So you gotta decide: you like paying taxes and bribes, or you like paying protection money?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t the Akanans want to find a way to get the prices lower?¡±

    ¡°Well, don¡¯t matter much now,¡± the man said, gesturing at the window. ¡°Both sides of the Rift Sea are gonna be hurting if this keeps going. Can¡¯t just go to war with your biggest trading partner and not suffer something, you know? Wish we knew what in the five hells was going on. Seems unnatural, you know?¡±

    Mirian nodded along with that.

    As the cycle came to a close, she assessed her soul as fully healed, and began to prepare for her next task.

    ***

    Mirian spent three days of the next cycle in rushed preparations. She made sure the Akanan time traveler would encounter his usual difficulties, then headed for Frostland¡¯s Gate on the night of the 3rd.

    As she headed across the trails and up the passes, alternating between hiking and levitating, she immediately felt the difference Rostal¡¯s dervish training had made. Even though she¡¯d tripled the rations in her pack (and ditched most of the water, relying on gather water and filter water), it didn¡¯t feel as heavy. It took much longer for her to tire, and her legs didn¡¯t burn when she reached the top of the Littenord Pass. When she wasn¡¯t using the Lone Pine form for endurance, she maintained the Blooming Red Iron form, since it was helping improve both her physical and auric capacity. Rostal had warned her she would eventually encounter diminishing returns. She was already beginning to run up against them, but she still had a lot to gain. And unlike her body, her aura capacity didn¡¯t have the same hard physical limits. Mirian hadn¡¯t been bothering to measure the gains precisely because depleting that much mana took a great deal of time, and then it would take a long time to regenerate.

    However, she could use her levitation time as a rough estimate of her capacity. She could now maintain the spell for two hours and still have a relatively robust aura. With her increased auric mana for levitation and her increased stamina, she could make what used to be a seven day journey in just four days, making it to the frontier town early on the 8th.

    With the change in times, she wasn¡¯t able to find the glaciavore, but did kill two wyverns and a bastion elk, which would give her enough coin for her purposes.

    Mirian sold her scavenged myrvite parts to Elsadorra, then found Beatrice¡¯s crew going over their maps.

    ¡°Hey Beatrice,¡± she said.

    ¡°Mirian!?¡± Beatrice said. ¡°Don¡¯t you have¡­ classes?¡±

    ¡°Nah. We¡¯ll skip the boring parts. I¡¯m a time traveler now¡ªthough lets not spread that around just yet. And I have a proposal for you. Any of you have any issues working with Aelius and the Ennecus Group?¡±

    ¡°Beatrice? You know this, uh, child?¡± Cediri asked.

    ¡°You¡¯re a time traveler?¡± Beatrice asked in a loud whisper.

    ¡°I think that was a joke,¡± muttered Grimald.

    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a no,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I have a plan for getting deeper into the Vault.¡±

    All three of them blinked at her.

    ¡°I¡¯ve got a way to get through the suppression room with the two greater labyrinthine horrors. I just need you and Aelius to work together.¡±

    Beatrice stared at her. ¡°Mirian, you had trouble using lift object on a chair last time I saw you.¡±

    ¡°A lot has changed. You want to go set up the tripoint detector?¡± She grinned.

    The fact that she¡¯d made it to Frostland¡¯s Gate by herself already lent some credence to her claims, so after a few more minutes, she was able to get the group to drag out the tripoint meter and set it up safely outside of town.

    Mirian stood upright, wand of greater lightning in her hand while Cediri finished setting up the third detector by the target. By tradition, the target was a bundle of hay in front of a boulder that was dripping with ice. When he was safely behind her, she waited for a moment, letting the anticipation build. She could almost feel the soldier sent to certify the results holding his breath. Beatrice looked worried.

    Mirian leveled her wand, bringing the tip in perfect alignment with the device, posture perfect enough even Rostal would have had a hard time critiquing it. She focused in on her aura, watching it swirl about her, then she focused in on her soul. It was strange to think about, but within that swirling gyre was everything that made up her. Every memory and emotion was somewhere in those silver bands.

    She could imagine one current was her despair, the one that questioned her very belonging and family now. Another could be the rage she felt at watching so much death and pain, over and over. They were a part of her though; she couldn¡¯t reject them. For now, she watched them pass by, embracing that truth of who she was, holding it tight. When she did that, she could feel her aura accelerate. That was the moment to grasp.

    She channeled.

    Lightning riped from her wand, and anyone who didn¡¯t know any better might have thought the thunder was from a stormcloud. The straw target, predictably, was incinerated. The rock behind it glowed red, the sudden heat injection causing several fissure lines around it. Mirian turned to look at her audience.

    Grimald¡¯s eyes were wide. Beatrice and Cediri¡¯s jaws had literally dropped. The soldier looked at the meter, then looked at the steam that was still coming off the now dry and ice-free boulder.

    ¡°97 myr,¡± Beatrice whispered. ¡°Mirian, what the fuck. You¡¯re almost an archmage.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Mirian said, unable to suppress her smile, ¡°I guess I¡¯ve got a bit of work to do. So, as I was saying. Who wants to see what¡¯s at the end of that Vault below us?¡±

 Chapter 138 - Double the Horror

    Aelius¡¯s first reaction to Mirian¡¯s proposal was disbelief. However, when she started outlining what she knew of the Vault¡ªwhich was how to open almost all of the early room doors¡ªhe had to lean back in his chair and clench his jaw for a bit.

    ¡°How are we dividing it up?¡± he finally asked.

    I¡¯m surprised he¡¯s not more skeptical, Mirian thought. She¡¯d claimed to have discovered information about the Vault in a forgotten archive in Palendurio. She¡¯d decided to lie to Aelius and his group, just to limit the number of people who knew she was a time traveler. She knew Beatrice¡¯s group wouldn¡¯t put the word out there as long as she was stern with Cediri. The Ennecus group probably wouldn¡¯t, given their behavior later in the cycle, but the less risks she took, the better. ¡°I get any special purple-orange liquids we find. Your teams can divide up what¡¯s left. I¡¯ll just want to take a look at what¡¯s there.¡±

    She hadn¡¯t told them what the dual-color liquid was, and had no intention to. As far as Aelius knew, it was just another Labyrinth-made substance that had interesting research potential.

    Aelius considered that. ¡°Map fee?¡±

    Mirian waved her hand in dismissal. ¡°The Labyrinth just shifted. Sometime after the 28th of the last month, but before the 5th. Good news: you don¡¯t have to remap it. I already know the route.¡± She drew out a basic map, then added, ¡°No spell engines. It riles up the horrors down there. Minimal econodes, so we¡¯re safe from most myrvites. And I have a way to deal with Scrappy.¡± I hope, she mentally added.

    ¡°Fifty-fifty split,¡± Cediri said.

    ¡°We¡¯re bringing more people. Seventy-thirty.¡±

    Cediri frowned. ¡°We¡¯ll take seventy no problem.¡±

    Aelius rolled his eyes. ¡°You know what I mean.¡±

    The haggling took longer than it should have, and eventually, they settled on dividing what they found evenly among the participants. Next time I¡¯ll lead with that, Mirian thought.

    Then they started making preparations.

    ¡°A half-dozen baduka boar spears, except made for something even bigger,¡± Mirian instructed the smith. ¡°And three tower shields with serrated edges so the labyrinthine horrors can¡¯t grab onto the edges.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯ll take some time,¡± he said.

    ¡°Can it be done before the 16th?¡±

    The blacksmith frowned, looked back at his two apprentices, then looked back at Mirian. ¡°We don¡¯t usually do rush orders.¡±

    Mirian considered that. ¡°What if you had access to an arcanist who could cast any heat spells you need and had access to shape metal?¡±

    The smith raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re offering?¡±

    ¡°Sure. Just give me a discount or whatever. And I need to go purchase an ink, then another five minutes to scribe a spell.¡±

    One of the apprentices chimed in. ¡°Doesn¡¯t it take a lot more than five minutes to scribe a spell? My gran needed one done and they said each order took an hour. For the simple ones.¡±

    ¡°Special circumstances,¡± Mirian said.

    She returned a few minutes later and got to work.

    Fortunately, the smith had worked with enough arcanists before that he knew how to best instruct Mirian to help. Using shape metal to stretch a tin roof tile was one thing, but for an actual weapon or shield, overusing the spell could cause the metal to become brittle.

    Mirian didn¡¯t quite follow all his explanations, but it was easy enough to use the spell to help tighten the spearheads they needed, or to keep the metal at the exact temperature the smith needed as he hammered out the pieces. It wasn¡¯t very interesting, but she told herself it was good practice in fine spell control.

    She hadn¡¯t paid enough attention in chemistry to understand why they needed the barrel of salt water, and since the knowledge didn¡¯t seem necessary for her to retain, she let it pass in one ear and out the other. It wasn¡¯t like she was planning on taking up metalworking as a hobby. She had enough to learn as it was.

    As she helped out with his other orders she made extensive use of filter air. She didn¡¯t know how they could all stand to breath such rancid fumes all the time. Her contributions sped up the orders considerably, and the smith gave her a fair discount.

    Meanwhile, the frontliners practiced their formations. She joined them for some of the exercises, but Mirian spent most of her time making a large soul repository with three chambers, then filling it with myrvites from outside the spellward. She liked the efficiency of charging to soul repositories and also getting money for the parts. Then, she had a full day of rest so her aura could be at capacity.

    By the 14th, they were ready, which gave them plenty of time for multiple attempts at the Vaults before the rooms shifted again on the 20th. As long as they got in an attempt before then, Mirian was happy. After that, there were entropic antimagic rooms between her and the Vault, and she still didn¡¯t want to risk those.

    It took two runs of the elevator to lower the teams and their supplies down. Then they proceeded.

    ¡°I don¡¯t like the pace we¡¯re going,¡± Gromaer, one of Aelius¡¯s heavies, said.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine,¡± Mirian said. ¡°As I said, I snuck down here and mapped it out.¡± That was another lie she was going with.

    Sure enough they made it to the Vault in record time. After that, Mirian showed them how the geometric solids puzzle worked, then they made rapid progress toward the room she was eager to see: the antimagic suppression room with the two greater labyrinthine horrors.

    When they finally saw it, Gromaer looked at Grimald. ¡°She¡¯s really serious about this?¡±

    Grimald finished tying the straps of the tower shield to his arm. ¡°Apparently.¡± When he glanced up and saw the other fighter¡¯s look, he said, ¡°You¡¯re not thinking of backing out, are you?¡±

    That challenge was apparently enough to steady Gromaer.

    Mirian took her position by the door. ¡°Arcanists, you¡¯re on watch. Shout if Scrappy shows up and we¡¯ll retreat from that room. Frontliners, you¡¯re backliners now. Keep the first one off me, but stick to the door. Call if we need to rotate out and try again.¡± They¡¯d rehearsed this, but if Mirian had learned anything from the Battle of Torrviol, it was that repeating orders was never wasted.

    Mirian had pre-summoned Eclipse and kept it in a sheath at her belt. Summoning it was much cooler, but also, a bit suspicious. She drew it now, then embraced the form of The Dance of the Dusk Waves Across the Ocean. ¡°Heavies, ready?¡± she shouted.

    ¡°Ready!¡± came the chorused reply behind her.

    ¡°Advance!¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    She moved into the room, heart pounding.

    The greater horrors charged, scurrying forward like oversized centipedes, their tendrils flailing about.

    Mirian dashed forward as the first horror¡¯s spined tentacles came down to grab her, then lashed out with Eclipse. The adamantium edge sheared right through the thin tendrils. One of its front legs came in as a follow-up, looking to spear her, but she was already tucking and rolling. The first horror slammed into the wall by the door, and Mirian¡¯s blade bit into its side as she rose to her feet and backed away from it.

    With a roar, the heavies slammed their spears into the horror¡¯s torso and side, the lugs of the spears preventing the blades from going in to deep, but hooked edges in the tip ripping out chunks of sinew as the horror pulled away from them. Naturally, its tendrils went to pull the steel-plated tower shields they¡¯d planted on the ground away so it could use its legs to spear them, but the serrated edges of the shield ripped gashes in the tentacles. When it moved away, though, they advanced and stabbed it with the spears, then retreated back towards the door when it circled around them.

    Mirian saw all this in her peripheral vision; with the first greater horror distracted, she engaged the second one in the wide open room where she could maneuver. She switched to The Spear That Cuts Water form, using her mobility and footwork to keep out of range of the legs. The greater horrors liked to use those tendrils whips, but piece by piece she cut them apart. The labyrinthine horrors didn¡¯t behave like normal animals that retreated when wounded, or reacted strongly to pain. They simply kept coming. They were neither predators nor prey, but something far less natural.

    The second horror lowered its torso to charge. Mirian dodged again, but the creature had learned. It paused its charge and slammed one of its legs down. Only her quick reaction prevented the spiky leg from going through her torso, but it still left a fiercely bleeding gash. Mirian stabbed the offending leg, then retreated, fighting through the pain. She switched to Lone Pine On The Mountain, and so when the horror tried to use its torso to simply slam her into the wall, she stood her ground, then jabbed it twice for its efforts before circling around, leaving it to leak ichor over the ground.

    ¡°Target one charging!¡± came Grimald¡¯s voice.

    Mirian swore, sprinting to the side as the first horror disengaged from the heavies, but the warning had come too late. The first horror still had its tendrils, and one of them wrapped around Mirian¡¯s leg and tried to pull her off balance. She cut the offending tendril, but the spines had already slashed up her leg, which was now poisoned.

    She switched stances, needing the speed of lightning just to keep her blade moving fast enough to ward away the attacks. Then a spined leg slammed through her chest¡ª

    ***

    Mirian woke up, water dripping on her face. ¡°Five hells,¡± she whispered. At least it had been quick.

    ***

    She repeated her preparations, then headed to Frostland¡¯s Gate again. She achieved another 97 myr on the tripoint meter, then gathered up the Labyrinth explorers. This time, she spent more time practicing with the fighters, and worked on strengthening her forms. The last trip had jogged her memory, and it was easier to hunt down the nearby myrvites. She ate ravenously, feasting on bastion elk venison and scimitar lion steak.

    By the 14th, they were ready again. The greater labyrinthine horrors were right where she¡¯d left them. Round two, she thought to them.

    This time, her tactics were to push the heavies slightly further in, then use their shield wall as a place to hide behind as she darted out. She started by systematically cutting their tendrils to ribbons, but the horrors started smashing into the shield wall with their sharp legs, sending the group retreating.

    ¡°Rest up,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Anyone wounded?¡±

    Gromaer was. A nasty slash across the shoulder, and some bruises. She healed him.

    ¡°How¡­ you¡¯re not a priest too, are you? Or¡­?¡±

    The ¡®or¡¯ was dangerous. ¡°Trained as a priest for a bit,¡± she lied, then shot Beatrice a glare so she wouldn¡¯t say anything.

    After some rest, they came at the greater horrors again. Despite the ichor they¡¯d leaked on the ground, they didn¡¯t seem any weaker. Grimald led the center forward, sending a powerful thrust into the torso-maw of the first horror while the other two heavies took up the flanks, shouting and jabbing at the creatures.

    Mirian used the lightning form to increase her speed, stabbing into the torso of the second greater horror again and again. The blade was great for piercing the carapace, and the holes it left were clearly doing more damage than the spears, but the beasts were incredibly resilient. Even an adamantium blade simply wasn¡¯t a replacement for even an 80 myr lightning bolt.

    ¡°Getting fatigued,¡± Grimald called out.

    ¡°Pull back,¡± Mirian immediately ordered.

    They retreated again to rest, pulling out water skins. Mirian healed the wounds, then sat down to breath.

    ¡°We can stop,¡± Beatrice whispered to her as she rested.

    She shook her head. ¡°No, I can¡¯t. It doesn¡¯t matter if I die. It doesn¡¯t matter how many times I die. I have to keep going.¡±

    Beatrice was silent at that. Finally, she said, ¡°Mirian, I am¡­ so sorry.¡±

    ¡°Well. It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s not really better for anyone else.¡± She went back to meditating. After a while, she got up, watching the greater horrors as the others continued. Then she started grinding her teeth. ¡°They¡¯re healing,¡± Mirian announced.

    ¡°What? Ah, shit,¡± Gromaer said, getting to his feet.

    She watched as another hole in the left greater horror slowly knit itself together. It wasn¡¯t as fast as what a priest could achieve, but it was magnitudes faster than what the human body could do on its own. ¡°Weapons up. Let¡¯s go again.¡±

    They pushed in, Mirian taking the lead this time. She managed to get several quick slashes on the second horror before having to retreat behind the shields, tearing gashes through its torso, exposing the strange maw inside it. The first horror slammed a leg into her side, but she fought through the pain, cutting a deep gash in the carapace, then striking the same place again so that the leg fell off. While she retreated, the heavies slammed their spears into the monsters, pushing them back.

    The second horror charged right into the shield wall, and Mirian went into a frenzy, stabbing and then gouging out big chunks of the sinewy flesh. The creature let out a chittering hiss, then the other one responded with the same, torso cracking open to reveal the strange, spiny teeth. They started backing up. Hmm. Some of those features remind me of Apophagorga. Much closer to that than other myrvites. But what are they doing?

    Beatrice had the same thought. ¡°What are they doing?¡± she called out.

    The greater horrors soon answered that. They smashed their bodies together, thick bodies joining as each extended a side of legs into the other. Like extremely gross yarn, their legs in the middle entangled and pierced their bodies.

    ¡°What in the five hells and fucking cosmos is that?¡± Gromaer said. ¡°Are they combining?¡±

    ¡°Push forward. They may be vulnerable!¡± Mirian called.

    The group charged in, spears jabbing at the writhing flesh of the thing. What the hells am I supposed to call it? An extra-great labyrinthine horror? Mirian came in with heavy slashes, hoping they could inflict damage on it before it completed its strange meld.

    Then the horror charged.

    With twice the mass, it was able to snap two of the spears and break the shield wall apart, trampling Grimald and sending the other two heavies flying. She winced as a leg slammed through Grimald¡¯s torso, killing him in a moment. Mirian cut off another leg, but more leg¡ªmigrating from somewhere inside the body¡ªpushed out to replace it, while the other excess legs sprouted from the creature¡¯s new torso, covered in the venomous teeth-spines. Mirian switched to The Spear That Cuts Water form, but as the horror added more and more limbs to its front, she found herself in a desperate retreating battle¡ªand the abomination had cut her off from the door. She rolled underneath it, cutting a huge slash under it, spilling ichor out.

    Then the wind was knocked out of her as the horror simply slammed its body down on her.

    Mirian tried to steady her soul and switch to the Lone Pine form, but two legs jabbed down and¡ª

    ***

    ¡°Shit,¡± she said as water droplets slowly dripped down on her.

    ***

    Mirian had fought the Battle of Torrviol countless times and never given up. She wasn¡¯t about to let two overgrown jellyfish centipedes stop her, even if they could fuse together to become an even bigger, grosser thing.

    This time, she convinced two of the soldiers to join them.

    ¡°It is a threat to Frostland¡¯s Gate,¡± she told them. ¡°I just came from Second Cairn, where they found a greater horror in a room and left it. Then, the next Labyrinth shift, it made its way to the surface. Believe me, you don¡¯t want one of those stalking through town at night. The next shift, they might emerge.¡±

    Grimald had opened his mouth to say something, but Beatrice had kicked him in the shin to shut him up.

    The sergeant gave his approval after Mirian delivered the corpses of two scimitar lions and five frost scrabites to town, estimating that she¡¯d decreased the patrols they needed. Donating myrvite corpses to the guard technically wasn¡¯t bribery, she¡¯d learned from Cediri, even if it served the same function.

    Cediri and the sergeant had practically had a whole conversation just waggling their eyebrows. Mirian ordered extra spears for the guards, making sure they each had a backup in case a spear snapped.

    Once again, they headed for the Vault, packs loaded with supplies.

 Chapter 139 - Deeper

    The two greater labyrinthine horrors waited in the antimagic room. The three heavies leaned their war hammers near the door¡¯s threshold, and the soldiers stood ready with their spears. Grimald led the charge, quickly establishing the front of the shield wall, followed by the two other heavies. Mirian used The Dance of the Dusk Waves to quickly cut apart the tendrils as the soldiers came in, adding another two spears to hold the horrors at bay.

    Mirian switched to the Spear That Cuts Water stance, flowing away from the horrors as they tried to impale her with their legs. While the spears restricted their movement, she cut at each leg that lashed out. When the two horrors charged together, they snapped two of the spears, and sent Gromaer flying backward.

    ¡°Retreat!¡± Mirian snapped.

    The two other heavies kept their shields raised as they walked backwards until they were through the doorway.

    Mirian healed a nasty gash on Gromaer¡¯s shoulder and the bruises he¡¯d gathered. ¡°Anyone else hurt? Grimald, let me see that arm. There. Two minute breather, then we go back in.¡±

    Gromaer¡¯s shield was lying on the ground near the door, but they¡¯d probably be able to push the horrors back enough to retrieve it.

    ¡°Back in, let¡¯s go. Ready? Advance!¡± Mirian called out. With Eclipse and the spears harrying the greater horrors, they pushed into the room again. This time, they stayed closer to the door. The fighting dragged on for minutes on end, until Mirian could see the endurance of her allies was waning.

    ¡°Retreat. Three minutes, then back in.¡±

    They passed around water skins and caught their breath.

    ¡°Advance!¡±

    Four more times they repeated this. It was an absolute slog. Finally, she¡¯d cut up the front legs and torsos enough that the horrors began to make that weird hissing sound.

    ¡°There¡¯s the merge! Grab the hammers! Hit it now!¡±

    They dropped the shields, and while the two soldiers kept a spear embedded in each horror, Mirian came at the center, carving hunks of the tough flesh apart. She assumed Lone Pine so that she could keep her attacks relentless. Unlike dueling, which involved a lot of stabbing, puncture wounds were insufficient. She had to cut them apart. Rapiers were usually terrible at that, but Eclipse wasn¡¯t some normal sword, and the unnaturally sharp blade didn¡¯t dull as it cut into the creature again and again.

    Then the heavies joined the fray with their war hammers, with Grimald targeting the legs on the left one while the other two smashed apart the legs on the right target. There was the sickening sound of carapace crunching and flesh splorching as they lent all their strength to the blows.

    As the two maws opened, Mirian stuck Eclipse right down the center of the left one, raking the inside as she withdrew her blade. She focused on carving a path down the center of the creatures, reasoning that if they couldn¡¯t complete the merger, they¡¯d be crippled. And it¡¯s working! she elated.

    With the crack! of steel on carapaced flesh, Aelius¡¯s frontliners finished smashing apart the legs of the right greater horror. It crumpled to the ground, letting out a gurgling scream as ichor poured onto the ground.

    As it fell, Mirian targeted the strange head-like protrusion on the top of the torso. She slashed at it once, then twice, then sent her blade right through the center. The creature let out an earsplitting scream again, then collapsed onto the ground, twitching.

    Mirian embraced Dusk Waves and came at the left side of the horror, cutting apart its mouth-torso. One of the soldiers managed to pin his spear inside the horror¡¯s maw as it opened, the crossguard lodging in its mouth as the thick speartip pierced out the other end. Mirian vaulted on top of the creature as it thrashed, then embraced Lone Pine. She dug Eclipse deep into its back and dragged Eclipse across the spine with both hands. The back of the creature split open like a rotting melon. Even after the bodies had stilled, Mirian continued to cut the thing apart. No way was she risking it regenerating on them.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Cediri said. ¡°You actually did it.¡±

    ¡°Third try¡¯s the charm,¡± Mirian said.

    Gromaer gave her a funny look. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Mirian let out a big breath and wiped some of the sweat off her brow. ¡°Whew. Now let¡¯s see if we can get this door open.¡±

    She approached the far end of the room, where minuscule glyphs were carved directly into the wall by the doorframe. She hadn¡¯t been able to analyze them before, so she had no idea what to expect.

    Sections of the glyphs on the wall were tribonded glyphs, the kind she still hadn¡¯t been able to replicate because they required simultaneous scribing. She¡¯d also have to do more analysis of what those sequences did, which would require delicate divination equipment in Torrian Tower at the very least.

    The Vaults were clearly designed with puzzles and trials in mind, though. Four sections of markings that were far simpler than stood out. They were clustered into four insets of stone, engraved with both glyphs and runes.

    Cediri and Aelius joined her, while the others watched their backs. ¡°This doesn¡¯t make sense,¡± Cediri said. ¡°That sequence¡­ its used to pull inanimate objects at short ranges. There¡¯s nothing for it to pull. And I¡¯ve never seen these other glyphs.¡±

    Mirian read the sequence. Pull object at these coordinates from spell, trigger arcane energy burst if detects¡ªand then the sequence transitioned to celestial runes¡ªdifferent tissues? I think that¡¯s what that is. But the runes are different in each one. Referring to body parts, but in strange places. A human wouldn¡¯t have¡­

    And then she got it.

    ¡°We need parts from the greater horrors. That one needs one of the tendrils. That one needs that weird cartilage they have. That one needs something from a leg. Either the muscle sinews or the carapace, I¡¯m not familiar with that¡­ glyph. And that one needs part of the torso-mouth,¡± Mirian said, pointing at each recessed section.

    Aelius raised an eyebrow. ¡°That was fast.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve studied a lot of glyphs.¡± That was true enough.

    They cut up a chunk of the horror, then placed the tissue samples in the slot. As soon as the correct sample was there, it levitated in its spot. The third slot rejected the carapace from the leg, but accepted the sinewy muscle from the inner part.

    Silently, the stone door slid open, revealing a short hallway that led to another door.

    ¡°It worked,¡± Mirian said, about as surprised as everyone else.

    One of the soldiers cleared his throat. ¡°Ah, technically, the threat to the town has been eliminated. So¡­¡±

    ¡°Oh come on,¡± Cediri said. ¡°You know you want to see what¡¯s down here.¡±

    The two soldiers looked at each other. ¡°Alright, yeah,¡± one said, and the other didn¡¯t protest.

    The group grabbed their packs and supplies from the previous room, then piled the tower shields and extra spears on the other side of the door they¡¯d just opened. Mercifully, the antimagic suppression field ended there. Then they continued down the corridor. This door required no special puzzles, it just opened when touched.

    Beyond was a room unlike any other she¡¯d seen in the Labyrinth.

    Dozens of different crystals poked out from different rock formations. It looked like parts of a cave had burst up from the floor, though Mirian knew by now the Labyrinth wouldn¡¯t let those formations be there unless it wanted them there. There were dark stone pedestals scattered throughout the room, and a green stone table with a glass sphere and several strange looking brass implements neatly organized on top of it. In other parts of the room, there were things that looked a bit like sarcophagi, only they were too small to fit a person, and there was nothing inside them.

    There were two doors, each with glyph sequences written in a circle in their center.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The other arcanists joined them. Aelius looked at Beatrice. ¡°Ever seen anything like this?¡±

    ¡°Not like this one. Mirian?¡±

    Mirian was already deep in thought. She approached the door. As she did, she felt an antimagic field again, as soon as she crossed a few feet past the entrance. ¡°Damnit, another suppression field.¡± She stepped back. ¡°But it only affects part of the room.¡±

    ¡°Anything dangerous?¡± Grimald asked.

    ¡°Seems clear. Post two by the door to keep watch. Scrappy still could show up. We¡¯re pinned in if it does.¡±

    ¡°I can handle Scrappy,¡± Mirian said. Probably. Her focus was mostly on the room, and the glyphs on the doors.

    ¡°What¡¯s with the rock outcroppings?¡± the Ennecus sorcerer asked.

    ¡°Normal rock formations don¡¯t look like this,¡± the mage said.

    ¡°They¡¯re all crystals that would be useful in conduits,¡± Mirian said. She¡¯d thought that was too obvious to be stated. ¡°These doors need specific types and amounts of energy to hit them. Which means spells, but I don¡¯t know how we¡¯re supposed to cast spells and hit the door through the antimagic suppression field.¡±

    Cediri tapped his chin thoughtfully. ¡°Perhaps there¡¯s a way to disable the field without needing to drill into the walls.¡±

    ¡°If we drill into the walls, we definitely attract Scrappy,¡± Aelius said. ¡°And despite our proto-archmage here, I¡¯d rather not test her claims if we can avoid it. We¡¯ve never been able to disable an antimagic field we found in the Vaults through brute force. Outside the Vault, we only managed it once, and we lost two people to a horde. So. We play the Labyrinth¡¯s little game, yeah?¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Beatrice said, giving Cediri a look.

    Cediri rolled his eyes, heading over to the table. ¡°The workbench here is outside of the antimagic field. These tools are strange, though. They¡­ hmm¡­ they seem familiar. What¡¯s this orb do?¡±

    While he pondered that, Mirian looked around more. The pedestals and sarcophagi-looking things were all at odd angles. The rock formations seemed scattered haphazardly, but it meant they were blocking her ability to see all the pedestals at once. She kept having to peer around them.

    ¡°Why do these stone containers have holes in them?¡± Beatrice asked, circling one.

    She was right, Mirian realized. Each of the sarcophagi-adjacent stones had two holes each¡ªexcept for one of them at the far end of the room, and a second one in the middle of the room that had three holes. On a whim, she stuck her hand inside to feel for any hidden switches, thinking of how the Underground worked. To her surprise, she could feel her auric mana swirling around her hand inside the stone container.

    ¡°The suppression field isn¡¯t inside the containers,¡± she told the group.

    ¡°Interesting. Anyone here a contortionist?¡± Cediri asked without turning around. He had the orb in his hand, and he was moving it around, peering through it. ¡°This is a beautiful crystal sphere. Very smoo¡ªwhoops!¡±

    The sphere slipped out of his hand, but as he bent down to catch it where he expected to fall, something funny happened: it didn¡¯t fall. It just stayed in the air, unmoving. Cediri looked around, then carefully reached up and grabbed the orb again. Experimentally, he moved it over the floor, then let go. Again, it stayed in the air, not even hovering, just simply not moving. It¡¯s anchored in the fourth spatial dimension, Mirian realized.

    ¡°Try putting it on a pedestal,¡± Grimald said.

    ¡°I was just about to do that,¡± he said.

    ¡°No you weren¡¯t.¡±

    Cediri scoffed dramatically, then brought it over to a pedestal. Peering through it he said, ¡°Oh! Glyphs. The big ones in the center are rosh and aitliu. Moving his head around to get a better view. ¡°There¡¯s a set of longer sequences along the outside. Ah¡­ divination?¡± He looked expectantly at Mirian.

    She walked over. ¡°Divination, for detecting specific arcane frequencies. Rosh and aitliu, obviously.¡± Mirian looked over by the door. ¡°It¡¯s the same basic detection the circle of glyphs by the door is using. Presumably, this is similar to the magichemical puzzles. It¡¯s looking for specific arcane energy frequencies to hit each pedestal and then the door.¡±

    The arcanists not guarding their rear went around looking at the pedestals as Cediri held the orb over each one. ¡°The frequencies are different on every pedestal,¡± Aelius said. ¡°And different on the door.¡±

    Obviously, Mirian thought. Curious, she peered at the stone containers from over by the pedestal. ¡°The holes in the containers line up with each other, and pass over the pedestals. But¡­ hmmm¡­¡± Mirian held up her hand in the space between the pedestal and hole. There was a small flare of aura that came from each side of her hand. ¡°The antimagic field doesn¡¯t cover a very small cylinder. Whatever we need to do, it involves directing beams of arcane energy along a path.¡± Her mind raced as she connected the dots. ¡°And each stone sarcophagus-looking thing just needs to transform the energy then redirect it. Look¡ªwe¡¯ve been given dozens of conduit crystals for a reason. So we built the glyph sequences that will transform each beam so that it matches the glyph energies the puzzle is looking for.¡±

    What she didn¡¯t expect was the looks of despair that followed. ¡°Building something like that would take days!¡± Cediri moaned.

    ¡°How many of you are trained in artifice?¡± Beatrice asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve done a bit,¡± said Aelius.

    ¡°This is incredibly simple stuff,¡± Mirian said, amazed that anyone would be despairing at the simple constructs they needed to make. Each device simply needed to change the angle of a beam and contain two energy transformations. That¡¯s nothing!

    The Ennecus arcanist said, ¡°But we¡¯d need artificing supplies. Hell, we¡¯d need mining supplies. These crystals¡ª¡±

    ¡°One, I always carry artificing supplies with me. Two, even if I didn¡¯t, they¡¯re over there on the table.¡±

    The arcanist looked over, then looked a bit embarrassed.

    Mirian headed over to the table and got to work. The Labyrinth tools were strange, but familiar. Mirian didn¡¯t seem to actually need her scribe¡¯s pen. The device they found was ingenious; she discovered if she channeled a glyph she wanted into the pen, the Elder pen created the magichemical ink she needed to scribe that glyph.

    Cediri, of course, had the idea of taking the artifice tools with them. However, trying to pull the orb out of the room proved impossible. When the orb got to the threshold, it simply stopped, no matter how much Cediri yanked or pulled. Grimald tried to push it with his whole body weight, leaning forward as he pushed, but failed to get it to move.

    ¡°It¡¯s like trying to move a stone wall,¡± he complained.

    The scribe pen and other tools proved to have a similar protection. They too floated in the air when released. ¡°They¡¯re four dimensional objects,¡± Mirian said. ¡°They¡¯re probably much larger than you think they are. I mean, this ink is coming from reservoirs somewhere. Or they¡¯re chained to something we can¡¯t see.¡± I don¡¯t even think I could remove them with relicarium and the time loop. There¡¯d be no way for me to coat the entire object, just the three dimensional part I can see.

    ¡°It can¡¯t be chain, because I can take it over here on the other side of this rock formation,¡± Cediri said.

    Mirian blinked at him. ¡°Do you know any four dimensional geometry?¡± she asked.

    That shut him up at least.

    Aelius figured out how to use one of the tools to extract conduit crystals safely. The tool used some sort of energy¡ªsound energy? Invisible light?¡ªto disintegrate the stone matrix directly around each crystal, letting them get the whole thing with no risk of shattering it.

    Two hours into her artificing, one of the stone formations began to glow with apparent heat, though none of the heat seemed to spread around the room. They watched, fascinated, as the stone and crystals reconstructed themselves.

    ¡°Infinite conduit crystals,¡± Aelius whispered.

    ¡°But not free,¡± Mirian said.

    Aelius looked through the hallway back at the two dead greater horrors. ¡°I suppose they¡¯re likely to return too, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    ¡°Probably,¡± Cediri said. ¡°Everything in the Labyrinth has a price.¡±

    ¡°Ain¡¯t that the truth,¡± Gromaer grumbled.

    ¡°Hmm. There¡¯s an issue,¡± Mirian realized, as she worked on her fourth device. ¡°There¡¯s a mismatch in the flux glyphs needed. I can¡¯t complete a split transformation.¡±

    ¡°Can someone translate?¡± Grimald asked.

    ¡°We can only open one door,¡± Aelius said. ¡°Anyone have a preference?¡±

    No one did.

    After two more hours, everyone was getting restless, but at last Mirian was done. She got to positioning her devices. It didn¡¯t take long. Beatrice had been busy using shape stone to make little holders for the crystals at the angles she needed. There were a few issues of misalignment. Two of the conduits needed slight adjustments, and one of the glyphs needed to be reworked.

    ¡°Don¡¯t we need a spell engine?¡± Cediri asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Mirian said, standing at the edge of the antimagic field. ¡°I can channel enough auric mana. Alright, let¡¯s see if this works.¡±

    She channeled, straining with the control and power the device needed. Then, bright symbols around the door they¡¯d chosen lit up and it slid open.

    Giddy with anticipation, Mirian went to the door.

    Cediri said it before she could. ¡°Another puzzle?¡±

    ¡°Looks like it,¡± she said. There were dozens of complex geometric forms carved into the floor. She could see no pattern to any of it.

    Grimald looked at Beatrice, who nodded. ¡°Look, I have to say we call it here. We¡¯ve been down here for an entire day. Scrappy doesn¡¯t full close this place up in one night. We need to rest and return tomorrow.¡±

    Mirian looked around, but she could see the exhaustion in everyone¡¯s faces. She ground her teeth. It shouldn¡¯t shift until the 20th. Unless it reacts to us making it this far. Scrappy will close a few doors, but we can just open them again.

    ¡°Alright. Back up, rest, then down tomorrow. We are getting to the end of this.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Aelius said.

    Mirian glanced back as they headed back up. So close, she thought. She just had to be patient.

 Chapter 140 - And Deeper

    It was clear, when they came back down the next day, that Scrappy had been hard at work. Five of the rooms near the front had been reset. Thankfully, the strange golem was nowhere to be found, and it hadn¡¯t made it to the back rooms. The two greater labyrinthine horror corpses were missing, which was creepy, but the door was still open. Mirian cautiously checked the antimagic room, but they weren¡¯t lurking in the corners. Which was good; they¡¯d left the soldiers behind this time.

    The next room to conquer was a stone floor inscribed with strange shapes. Mirian found the tiles could be levitated off the floor easily. When one of the tiles came back down, a faint glow traced its way along the grooves. After a half-hour of moving them around, they discovered the trick was to rotate them around so that they created a complete pattern. The tile that let out a glow could transfer that light to the next tile if the grooves were aligned. Once they were all lined up, the light flowing through the channels like water through a canal, the next door opened.

    The room after that was similar; the floor tiles had the carved grooves, but they didn¡¯t match up, and only some of the tiles could be lifted.

    A half-hour later of trial and error, the frustration was growing.

    ¡°None of the rotations seem to matter. There¡¯s no way to get the tiles with grooves to share a border, because every other tile is immobile. And it¡¯s not a remote connection. So what is it?¡± Cediri complained.

    ¡°We can keep going with trial and error,¡± Aelius confirmed. ¡°Eventually, we¡¯ll cover all the possibilities. It¡¯s how we opened the Vault in the first place.¡±

    ¡°These are heavy, and we only have so much mana to lift them,¡± complained Aelius¡¯s mage. Mirian still couldn¡¯t remember his name.

    She was busy doodling in her notebook. I thought the theme of geometry and dimensions stopped at the horror room, because the next room was a trial of artifice, but maybe it didn¡¯t. There¡¯s a new magic component added to these rooms testing magical endurance, but it¡¯s still a geometry problem. If the last problem was a two dimensional maze, perhaps its iterating again like in those first rooms. Line, square, cube, tesseract. This is the three dimensional room.

    ¡°There¡¯s a way to make the tiles touch each other,¡± she said. And with that, she used lift object and tilted one of the tiles on its side so the grooves matched the glowing one on the floor. At last, the light continued, flashing through the grooves.

    Beatrice grinned. ¡°Mirian, you¡¯re a genius!¡±

    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t say that. I did have a good math teacher though.¡±

    ¡°Is it really that simple?¡± Grimald asked.

    It wasn¡¯t entirely simple. They had to build a rather precarious looking structure out of the tiles. Once the last tile was in place, linking a lopsided block pyramid they¡¯d made to the grooves in the ceiling, the light passed through the entire structure, and the next door slid apart.

    ¡°More tiles? Really?¡± Cediri moaned.

    ¡°There¡¯s a pattern to the rooms, though. This one is going to need the light to follow a four-dimensional path.¡±

    ¡°But we can¡¯t see in four dimensions!¡±

    ¡°We can deduce the path the light is taking by inference. Professor Jei taught me how to do that with a coordinate system.¡±

    Cediri gaped at her, then shut his mouth. ¡°Alright. Just tell us what to move and where,¡± he said.

    The puzzle was straightforward, but there still was a trial and error component to see if grooves were matching in the unseen spatial dimension around them. Thankfully, this room had fewer tiles. Even then, it took two hours. The resulting structure was nonsensical, with tiles scattered all over the rooms at various right angles from each other.

    But the door opened.

    Waiting for them was a golem.

    It wasn¡¯t Scrappy, but it had a similar look to it. There was an orb in its center glowing a harsh red. Rings of brass and steel orbited it. Unlike Scrappy, it had one arm, and that arm ended in a nasty looking rod. Arcs of electricity danced down the rod.

    There were two doors beyond it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t see a way around it,¡± said Aelius.

    ¡°Look at the floor,¡± Cediri said.

    Grooves in the tiles.

    ¡°Are you kidding me!?¡± Beatrice exclaimed. ¡°Right, so we do a tile puzzle, but this time there¡¯s a golem trying to bash our heads in? If it¡¯s anything like Scrappy, it chews through magical defenses. And I don¡¯t think holding onto a shield when it hits it with an electric cudgel is going to be a pleasant experience.¡±

    Mirian pulled out her greater lightning wand. ¡°I think I might be able to make this easier on us,¡± she said.

    She stepped into the room. As soon as she did, the red energy-eye fixated on her and the golem began making a low keening noise. Its arm came up, and the rod in its hand crackled.

    Mirian coated the spell heavily with soul energy from the repository, then unleashed.

    The golem let out a scream. It flailed around, then, as the electricity roared out, thunder echoing through the tight halls, it backed up, then collapsed into a smoldering wreck.

    Mirian grinned. ¡°See? Not so¡ª¡±

    There was a clunk as the ceiling opened up and another golem fell down. As soon as it did, its red eye brightened, looking at Mirian. The pieces of the destroyed golem levitated around it, swirling around, clicking into place all over the new golem¡¯s body.

    ¡°I think you just gave it more armor,¡± Cediri commented as the golem came at Mirian, club raised.

    Mirian used the Water form and started circling the golem, dodging to the side whenever it struck with the club. No matter how she moved, though, the eye stayed focused on her. ¡°Beatrice! Come inside the room. I want to test someth¡ªshit!¡± The golem lunged forward, and she only just avoided it.

    ¡°Are you sure? I think¡ª¡±

    ¡°Just do it! If it turns on you, I¡¯ll zap it again.¡±

    WHAM! The golem¡¯s club sent sparks racing across the ground as Mirian leap backwards. It seemed totally unconcerned with Beatrice.

    ¡°The symbols in here are important,¡± Mirian said. ¡°The eye¡¯s on me. I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll bother¡ª¡± She kicked off to the side this time as the golem lunged forward. ¡°¡ªbother you.¡± She pulled out her levitation wand. At least it wasn¡¯t in an antimagic field. She could use the wand to rapidly accelerate herself in a direction, which would be easier.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s go. This is just another rotate-the-tile,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°Heavies stay out just so we have more room to move. Actually, Aelius can your group watch our backs?¡±

    ¡°Got it,¡± Aelius said.

    Cediri entered. He and Beatrice got to work moving tiles around while Mirian zipped about. At least the golem was predictable. She started to notice that it prepared its club in a different way for each different attack, which made it easier to know which way to dodge.

    Now that they knew how the puzzle worked, this one went much faster. As soon as the glow of the floor tiles covered the room, the golem stopped moving. The ceiling above it opened, and the golem levitated back out of the room.

    The ceiling closed.

    In the next room, there were two golems.

    Mirian grit her teeth and had to take a moment. ¡°Alright. Alright. Shit. Fuck. It¡¯s going to be like that, yeah? Alright. Beatrice and Cediri, you rotate to guard duty to replenish your auric mana. Aelius, your arcanists are on tile-lifting.¡±

    ¡°How¡¯s your mana?¡± Beatrice asked.

    ¡°Fine. And I have an elixir if I really need it. Ready?¡±

    The two golems¡¯ central eyes each lit up as they saw her enter. Mirian started with her levitation wand for the extra distance and safety, then once she¡¯d gotten the golems into a predictable attack pattern, she started dodging with the Spear Cuts Through Water form. By the end of it, she was sweating, but the next door was open.

    She didn¡¯t dare look. ¡°How many golems?¡±

    Beatrice peered through the door. ¡°Just one, but it¡¯s way bigger and this time it has a hammer. Ah, uh, the tiles on the ground look funny. They¡¯re covered in¡­ it sort of looks like labyrinthine horror carapace.¡±

    Mirian took a deep breath. ¡°Alright. I¡¯m going in.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t need a break?¡±

    ¡°I need to see the end of this Vault.¡± She walked into the room.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    When the golem¡¯s hammer came down, the carapace around the tile shattered. When Mirian tried to cut away the carapace herself with Eclipse, it rapidly regenerated. Only a strike from the golem¡¯s hammer kept it clear. She quickly figured out the puzzle required her to lure the golem over to each covered tile and get it to hit her, dodging at the last second. Once the tiles were clear, Beatrice and Cediri could come in and rotate them again.

    The next room, there was a small golem with two bladed arms next to the giant golem with the hammer. As soon as Mirian walked in the room, it camouflaged itself. Detect heat worked well enough to give her a good idea of where the tiny-stabby golem was, then it was a matter of keeping her eye on both golems.

    That wasn¡¯t easy. Tiny-stabby-camouflaged golem liked to circle around behind her if it could. Using lift object to keep the smaller golem in place turned out to be a bad idea; the larger golem suddenly accelerated to twice its usual speed, and only a desperate leap back prevented her from getting pasted onto the tiles.

    Then it was the next room, where it was the three-dimensional puzzle and one golem. Then, Mirian really did have to take a breather. She drank a mana elixir, looking out the door.

    ¡°Oh thank the Gods,¡± she said. They were finally done with the golem rooms.

    Beyond the door, the room opened up into¡ªwell, maybe ¡®room¡¯ wasn¡¯t the right word. It seemed too big to be called that. The door opened up into a primeval forest. Some hundred meters above, they could see the faint glow of the ceiling. They could just make out walls on either side of them through the trunks and brush, some fifty meters distant. The forest seemed to extend outward in a corridor. How long that corridor was, they couldn¡¯t tell.

    Aelius furrowed his brow. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of an econode inside a Vault,¡± he said.

    ¡°Is it an econode?¡± Beatrice asked.

    Cautiously, the group stepped out into the underground forest. ¡°There¡¯s two other doors the way we came,¡± Aelius said.

    ¡°Alternate routes?¡± Cediri wondered.

    ¡°Maybe. The antimagic obstacle course could lead here too. Which means¡ªwe have to be near the end.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s not at the end of this room, we have to head back,¡± Aelius said. ¡°We¡¯re already pushing the limits of our endurance, and our mana.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Heavies, two to each side, mages, aegis ready. Columns of two by¡ª¡± She paused when she saw Aelius¡¯s face. ¡°Sorry, force of habit. Would you prefer an alternate formation?¡±

    ¡°One heavy front, two on the wings. I can smell an ambush.¡±

    Ambushes were why Mirian had started with the two column formation, but they were small enough and well organized enough they could react quickly to anything. ¡°Alright.¡±

    They moved out, boots crunching on the pine needles scattered over the soil. She was using detect life, but the only souls she could see were those of the group.

    Strange. The souls of the trees are so faint I can hardly¡­ Mirian¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Nothing here is alive,¡± she said.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°None of these trees have souls.¡±

    Aelius said, ¡°How can you possible k¡ª¡±

    ¡°She knows,¡± Beatrice snapped. ¡°That¡¯s enough. What does that¡­ but what does that mean?¡±

    Mirian dismissed the celestial spell and switched to night vision. That¡¯s when she saw the first heat source. Behind a veil of brush, a mass of vines and part of a sapling was twisting in on itself.

    ¡°Left of us. Something¡¯s forming.¡±

    Beatrice cast her own detection spell while the heavies hefted their war hammers.

    As it emerged from the brush, Mirian felt her heart pounding. The creature¡ªexcept it wasn¡¯t alive, which didn¡¯t make sense to her¡ªwas almost feline in its form, but its sides were covered in blinking eyes and twisting spines, almost like wings. Its face had no eyes, instead, there were three mouths, each circular like a lamprey. Those mouths could extend or retract, and the way they moved in and out reminded Mirian of a snake tasting the air.

    She¡¯d only seen anything like it in one place before: the Mausoleum of the Ominian, in her dreams.

    ¡°God¡¯s blood,¡± whispered Aelius. ¡°What is that thing?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. Where did it come from?¡±

    ¡°The plants turned into it,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°What? That doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡±

    The things approached them, hissing. Cediri cast an aegis on Grimald. It stalked forward, then leapt. As it did, it left a trail of smoke, and then suddenly disappeared as it reached the apex of its jump.

    ¡°FUCK!¡± screamed Gromaer.

    Mirian turned, snapping an aegis into place just in time. With an inky burst, the creature had suddenly appeared on the other side of them. Its mouths bit down towards Gromaer, several teeth breaking off as they hit the kinetic barrier of the aegis. The weird spiny eye-wings came down next, clawing at him as he swung his hammer out. The hammer crunched against one of the wings, and Mirian¡¯s aegis stopped the other.

    Before it could do anything else, she sent a greater lightning spell straight through it.

    The creature split apart, becoming less like a beast and more like a tangle of thorny black vines. As it sizzled, the pieces melded into the forest floor and became a stout bush.

    ¡°What in the five hells,¡± said Aelius.

    ¡°Did it just teleport!?¡± Beatrice said, voice high pitched.

    ¡°Mirian, where did you say it came from?¡± Cediri asked. ¡°Because if I heard you right¡ª¡±

    Oh shit, Mirian thought. ¡°This isn¡¯t a forest. Fall back! Fall back now!¡±

    Behind them, she could already see the forest twisting and churning. Then, the same movement to their left, and right¡ªit was everywhere.

    The beasts that emerged all could have been taken from the reliefs of the Mausoleum, except instead of being frozen in black stone, they were very real. No two were the same, but they all had too many eyes, spines, and teeth, with mouths opening up in unlikely places along their bodies. They weren¡¯t like the labyrinthine horrors, though. Something about them felt more bestial, more real, even though her soul sight told her they were something else entirely.

    Behind them, she saw briars marching along to cut them off.

    ¡°We¡¯re surrounded!¡± Gromaer said at the same time Aelius said, ¡°Send fire to the rear!¡±

    The arcanists all started casting at once. Suddenly, there were creatures everywhere, appearing in patches of inky smoke, growing out of the ground, running out from behind the trees. Mirian started rapidly casting aegis spells on each of the heavies. Once she was sustaining those, she started casting disintegrating flame ray, thinking that chemically charring the attacking creatures might stop them from morphing.

    If the¡ªshe needed a word, and ¡®abomination¡¯ came to mind¡ªabominations could turn from plant to animal, then turned back into a plant when they died, was anything preventing them from turning right back to an animal a moment later?

    She turned her beam of fire not just on the attacking abominations, but the plant life as well.

    Cediri cut apart the briars trying to block their retreat, while Beatrice was unleashing fire spells in quick succession. Aelius and his two arcanists were using a force spell that could both block and cut, using it to deflect the incoming attacks before slicing apart the creatures.

    ¡°Ten more feet!¡± Gromaer called, smashing his hammer into an abomination that looked like wings coiled into a snake.

    One of the larger trees started to transform, bark and branches morphing into flailing tentacles covered in eyes and thick claws.

    They hurried back through the door.

    Thankfully, the abominations didn¡¯t follow. Slowly, they retreated, fading back into the forest, then becoming it. Mirian¡¯s brow furrowed. It seemed to her the forest before them was more dense than before.

    ¡°What in the bloody hellfire was that!?¡± Cediri exclaimed.

    ¡°That was teleportation,¡± Aelius said. ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be possible.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s mind was racing. There was a challenge here, and she got the sense none of them fully understood it. But each room had its own logic, but lessons from one room moved to new ones. But how did the lessons about golems smashing tiles relate to this?

    The four-dimensional puzzle connects, at least, she reasoned. ¡°It didn¡¯t teleport. There was a delay between when that first abomination moved and when it reappeared. It must have been moving through the fourth spatial dimension.¡±

    ¡°How can you possibly know that?¡± Aelius asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s a guess, but it¡¯s based on the puzzle rooms. They connect to this. They must.¡±

    Beatrice said, ¡°Or maybe they don¡¯t. The first rooms are purely intellectual. The later rooms move more towards combat. Perhaps this last room is purely a trial.¡±

    ¡°We should head back,¡± Aelius said. ¡°We¡¯re not prepared for that.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Cediri said.

    ¡°We¡¯re so close!¡± Mirian said. ¡°We can¡¯t turn back now.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯d like to live,¡± Gromaer said.

    Mirian looked at Beatrice. She¡¯d told her Academy group the truth of things, but not the Ennecus group.

    ¡°Cediri, there¡¯s only like twenty days left.¡±

    Cediri looked at Grimald, who nodded.

    ¡°Ah, shit,¡± he said. ¡°I was trying not to think about that.¡±

    Aelius cocked his head. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    Mirian closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. ¡°Can someone else explain it? I can¡¯t tell you how sick I am of explaining it.¡±

    ¡°The, uh, the world is going to end. Probably on the 6th of Duala,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°Wow, that¡¯s really weird to say out loud.¡±

    Aelius looked at them, then at his group, then back at them. ¡°...what?¡± he said intelligently.

    Cediri chimed in. ¡°Apparently, the catastrophic leyline eruptions have already begun, and they just intensify until¡ªwell the moon falls¡ªit sounds ridiculous, doesn¡¯t it? It¡¯s like those myths where they talk about a flicker carrying off the moon or something, and then that¡¯s how moon flickers come to be, only¡­ Beatrice, can you take over?¡±

    Beatrice did her best to explain. At the end, she added, ¡°I know Mirian because she¡¯s my sister¡¯s roommate,¡± she finally said. ¡°She was a student. A novice. Now she¡¯s almost an archmage. I¡­ I don¡¯t know what else explains it except the time stuff.¡±

    ¡°So we¡¯re all going to die?¡± Gromaer said. ¡°But I¡­ I have a daughter. She¡¯s down in Cairnmouth, I have to see her. I have to see her before¡ª¡±

    And that was why Mirian didn¡¯t like explaining it. She was so tired of people having existential crises in front of her. Tired of seeing the despair crush them, and all she could offer was an empty promise. That someday, in some distant future¡­

    Rostal would say it was like promising a starving man a feast on the other side of a mountain.

    ¡°I¡¯m down here because the stuff at the end of the Vault might be the key to saving everyone,¡± Mirian finished.

    Aelius said, ¡°But how¡­ how do you stop the leylines¡­ how do the leylines connect to¡­ why would they¡­?¡± He looked around, as if any of them actually had answers. Then, as silence descended on the room, his shoulders slumped. For a time, they all sat, staring at the floor or looking to each other.

    At last, Aelius said, ¡°Then I guess the only way forward is through. Rest up. Then we come up with a plan.¡±

    Mirian let them sit on the floor, where quiet conversation took over. She could hear half-finished ideas going around about how to best push through. She heard the sorcerer talking about fire spells, while Beatrice talked about using a wedge of force shields. Grimald insisted they smash the creatures, because even if it didn¡¯t keep them dead, it at least slowed them down.

    As they talked, an impatience swirled around Mirian. She sat down to meditate, but for the first time in a long time, she simply couldn¡¯t. She could close her eyes and see her soul, but she couldn¡¯t focus on it, didn¡¯t want to focus on it. They were so close. They were missing something, she knew, but she thought maybe they could brute force this puzzle. After all, they had three heavies and six casters. There wasn¡¯t even really a point of planning, because they didn¡¯t know anything except how to smash through the abomination-forest. She could tell they¡¯d descended into the kind of ridiculous speculation academics sometimes fell into when they couldn¡¯t admit to themselves they didn¡¯t have enough information.

    After an hour of rest, Mirian rose to her feet, spellbook in one hand, wand of greater lightning in the other.

    ¡°Alright, time¡¯s up. Let¡¯s do this.¡± Mirian charged in.

 Chapter 141 - The Depths of the Vault

    For a moment, there was silence. Then, Mirian heard Beatrice behind her asking, ¡°Did she just¡­?¡±

    Briefly, there was some shouting, but she didn¡¯t care what they said. They¡¯d follow. The only way out was through.

    For a moment, the forest was silent too. Then it came to life, vines and branches writhing and twisting into the strange, soulless creatures.

    Mirian went with the ¡®burn it all down¡¯ strategy.

    As the abominations came leaping toward her, she embraced the form of Dusk Waves, simply so her reaction time was better. There were enough of them it was easier to maintain the disintegrating fire ray than to recast it. While she swung it around in an arc, she repeatedly used her wand of greater lightning, enhanced for burning and paralysis. She reasoned if the beasts could move, they had something biological vulnerable to seizing up.

    Wherever she saw movement in the brush, she let her fire blast into it. There¡¯s so many of them, she thought. And she still couldn¡¯t see the end of the corridor.

    There was a flash of inky shadows, then she saw a claw emerging from the space near her head. It was like it was happening in slow motion¡ªshe could see the path it would take. She could see how the sharp bone would angle, and thought she knew about where it would carve a hole in her face. But she couldn¡¯t bring the beam around fast enough.

    Then, there was a ripple of force, and a force blade sliced right through the arm.

    Mirian rapidly raised a kinetic shield, then looked back.

    Beatrice.

    Her precision spellwork had just saved her from her own impatience and stupidity.

    She¡¯d reflect later¡ªnow, she needed to fight.

    The others came behind Beatrice, fire spells fanning out. Aelius was using a large-area fire wave spell that did little damage, but caused the vegetation to smolder and seemed to slow it from growing into the monstrosities. Since the abominations lacked souls, direct magic seemed to be especially effective at ripping them apart, but they came in relentless waves. Though the charring effect of fire seemed to slow down the reconstruction of the creatures somewhat, it by no means stopped them. The forest churned like a gale was blowing through.

    The group advanced as quickly as they could. For minutes on end, they cast more and more spells. It was like the labyrinthine horde, but less predictable, and more relentless. If they¡¯d brought even a single less arcanist, Mirian was sure they would have been overwhelmed.

    Aelius¡¯s sorcerer only cast a single spell, but his force blades were large, powerful, and he didn¡¯t slow. Cediri drank his emergency mana elixir while Beatrice covered for him, then she drank hers.

    ¡°There!¡± Beatrice said. ¡°Through the trees. I can see the door! It¡¯s the door!¡±

    As soon as Mirian saw it, she knew what Beatrice meant.

    The door at the end of the hall reminded Mirian of the one down by the Divine Monument, only it didn¡¯t have the same weathered look to it. That, and as they approached, the reliefs and designs on its front subtly shifted, just like the Monument itself did.

    That has to be it.

    She redoubled her efforts. An abomination appeared above them, its six wings covered in eyes and bone edges on its feathers and she swatted it away with a beam of fire. Two more creatures, like lions only they had no eyes and way more teeth, leapt at the group. Anticipating their dimensional shift, she sent lightning bolts through both.

    Aelius began to falter, his waves of fire petering out. His mage stopped casting entirely, closing his spellbook and giving the group a worried look. Mirian¡¯s own mana was nearly exhausted.

    Twenty feet, she thought, as Aelius¡¯s sorcerer cut apart the brush blocking their path. She deflected another attack, but the mob of abominations was redoubling its effort. She was sure it wasn¡¯t her imagination¡ªthe beasts were growing in number.

    Ten feet. Three more flying abominations swooped down, and Mirian barely lanced them with the beam. A lion-like abomination suddenly was leaping through the air behind her. She spun, but felt the claws shear through her flesh. It had taken out a chunk of her shoulder. She cut it apart, then rapidly poured soul energy into the wound to staunch the bleeding and knit back together her flesh, but that stole valuable time and focus from defending against the attack.

    Grimald fell to a flier and a leaper attacking him simultaneously. He could only deflect one¡ªthen he was bleeding on the ground. With three arcanists and a warrior disabled, their line began to rapidly collapse.

    No! she thought, and whirled to look at the door. She could make out glyphs and runes covering it. Like the door of the Vault itself, there was one last puzzle, and they just didn¡¯t have the time.

    Beatrice fell next, then Aelius, ripped apart by talons and claws and rows of teeth. Cediri was suddenly surrounded, and his rapid casting of aegis and fire blades wasn¡¯t enough¡ªa tortoise-like abomination with eyes plastered about its shell walked through his spell and bit a hole in his leg.

    Mirian roared, beam of fire shearing through the abominations, sending dozens of them smoldering as they collapsed, but there were too many of them, and her aura was nearly gone. She drew Eclipse, stabbing another abomination through the face, then whipped it around to cut through another. She felt a hot lance of pain as another claw raked her thigh, then sharp talons sliced her head. She whirled, cutting, stabbing, then unleashing one last beam of fire¡ª

    ***

    ¡°DAMNIT!¡± Mirian said, sitting upright in her bed.

    ¡°What? Oh no, did we sleep through an alarm? What time is it?¡± came Lily¡¯s panicked voice.

    Mirian sighed. ¡°Nothing.¡±

    If we hadn¡¯t run out of mana¡­ she thought. But her solution of ¡®get enough mana elixirs for everyone¡¯ wasn¡¯t going to work. Torrviol simply didn¡¯t have that large a stockpile of the elixirs. She¡¯d solved that problem previously by having the merchants order more elixirs or parts to make them from Cairnmouth, but she didn¡¯t have time to wait around while they did that.

    She could go down to Cairnmouth herself, but that would risk passing back through Torrviol after Troytin arrived and alerting him to her operations. Also, the extra days added to the time she needed to spend in Torrviol to ensure Troytin¡¯s plans were disrupted would give her a much later start in Frostland¡¯s Gate. She had to make it through the Vault before the Labyrinth shifted and put an entropic field between her and the entrance, and she needed every day. I have to get things going in Frostland¡¯s Gate, but there¡¯s always a few days of preparations before we actually descend.

    She came up with a solution.

    Disguising herself as Micael again she joined as Professor Endresen¡¯s apprentice, then used that as an excuse to talk to Professor Seneca. Mirian got them both to collaborate on a project where they tried testing different magichemicals on glyph production, but what she really was after was how to best synthesize her own mana elixirs from myrvite spell organs. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    The process was actually relatively simple, but required a few specialized alchemistry synthesis machines that were delicate enough and complex enough she would have trouble replicating them. Apparently, most of them were manufactured in the tiny Florin Principality, then shipped north to Palendurio where they were sold at a much inflated rate due to the tariffs and guild monopolies involved.

    Mirian spent the rest of the cycle studying alchemistry, and practiced making several mana elixirs. She also noted which species of myrvite found in the Frostlands would work best for the elixirs. It turned out, many of them. There was a reason the little outpost town brought in so much wealth.

    Studying alchemistry was also useful for making explosives. She found a way to make her little ¡®seeds of chaos¡¯ constructs even more explosive.

    She also planted a magichemical bomb on the Akanan air yacht when it landed again to evacuate Troytin and the other Akanans prior to the outbreak of war. The spell engine trigger was minuscule, and she doubted they detected it before it blew off a wing of the airship. I bet you¡¯re regretting what you did to me now, she thought at the other time traveler.

    Of course, he was always free to not come to Torrviol, and perhaps send her a letter of apology. Not that she¡¯d trust anything he said, but it would at least be satisfying if he did. There was no chance that he was reformed. If the Ominian chose us by trait, I think ¡®stubbornness¡¯ must have been near the top, she reasoned.

    ***

    And then the next cycle, she was back in Frostland¡¯s Gate, having stolen two expensive magichemical synthesis devices from the Alchemistry Building. Once back in the Labyrinth, she set them on a more careful schedule. They spent three days clearing out things like the greater labyrinthine horrors and the more mana-intensive puzzles, then, rested up and loaded with Mirian¡¯s freshly brewed mana elixirs, they made their way to the final hall.

    She had a new plan, too. She hadn¡¯t just made mana elixirs.

    She¡¯d made four more wands of levitation, then made Beatrice and the other strongest arcanists of the group practice.

    ¡°Drink the mana elixir at the halfway point. Beatrice, you and I will make force shields as we fly.¡± The other three would use force and fire spells. The heavies and remaining casters would stay behind and rendezvous with them afterward. Ideally, they could be nearly to the end of the corridor before the strange soulless forest reacted. She finished going over the plan one last time, then asked, ¡°Ready?¡±

    The group looked nervous, but she heard the chorus of yeses.

    ¡°Form up. On the count of three. One. Two. Three!¡±

    They charged out into the corridor, then rapidly accelerated. Cediri carved up the branches that were in their way, but they otherwise held their fire until the abominations started forming.

    It¡¯s working! Mirian thought triumphantly.

    There were abominations emerging from all along their route, but even with their little dimensional trick, they were lagging behind.

    The Labyrinth was reacting; Mirian saw abominations emerging from farther ahead. She raised force shields around the group as they pounced, while Cediri cut them apart.

    Ahead, she saw the final door.

    ¡°Almost there!¡± she called, as Aelius¡¯s sorcerer continued to butcher the strange creatures with his force blades, littering the forest floor with limbs, wings, bone fragments and torso pieces, all of which melted into networks of gray mycelial-looking goop. Then the mushrooms and plant tendrils would rise up, knitting themselves together again, and another beast would be running toward them.

    They landed at the door. ¡°Defend my position!¡± Mirian shouted, eyes scouring the runes and glyphs. Like the entrance to the Vault, there were five great dials of dark stone, done in the same aesthetic style as the Mausoleum. She felt relief, realizing that she recognized all the symbols, though that didn¡¯t slow her pounding heart or stop the adrenaline.

    The runes here say ¡®life energy,¡¯ paired with a xerivar and coordinates. So move soul energy in this direction, to the coordinates. She used energy from her soul repository, moving it in a clockwise direction. Auras of white light glowed around the carvings on the first dial.

    Second dial, heat energy pushed into three points simultaneously. There¡¯s the reference coordinate. She quickly calculated the distances the other coordinates marked by the glyphs would be from the reference point. Those three. She used two glyphs from her spellbook to pour heat energy into the spots. Again, the carvings lit up, this time in a soft red glow.

    Force energy, twisted in a corkscrew motion, then brought straight back along two paths. She rapidly flipped through her spellbook, needing to use the two-page method of casting. Fortunately, she was well practiced in improvisation at this point. The third dial lit up with gray light.

    Dimly, she was aware of Beatrice shouting something along the lines of ¡°hurry!¡± Based on the squelching sound of force blades cutting flesh and the pitter-patter of abomination pieces hitting the ground, she knew the pitched battle behind her was desperate.

    Magnetic energy, with specific intensities. Then two more points of magnetic force on the field edge¡ªthank the Gods Jei made us memorize the formula for estimating field size. The fourth dial lit up in a surreal violet glow.

    ¡°Damnit, Cediri¡¯s hurt! Aelius, switch to close-in fire shields. We need¡ª¡±

    Focus! Mirian looked at the last dial, trying to ignore the din and panicked shouts behind her. Light, sent at a 23 degree angle at the irres glyph wavelength, with a second beam sent at 59 degrees at gamra wavelength. Hells, you need a myr rating of 80 just to get that!

    She channeled, and an ethereal orange glow illuminated the geometric patterns around the last dial. The door rumbled, ancient gears coming to life.

    ¡°It¡¯s opening!¡± she said, and whirled to help.

    But the abominations had stopped. They slunk away, melding back into the trees and bushes, becoming roots and branches. The corridor stilled, and as the last thud of the door opening echoed, an eerie silence descended.

    Mirian tensed. All of them did.

    ¡°Did we¡­ did we actually do it?¡± Beatrice asked. ¡°Gods above.¡±

    ¡°And below,¡± Aelius said, clutching his arm where it was bleeding. ¡°That was too damn close.¡±

    ¡°Worth it. Absolutely worth it,¡± Cediri said. ¡°Do you realize how few descriptions we have of a Vault at this depth? Of course you do, but¡ªI can¡¯t believe it.¡±

    They entered.

    The last room of the Vault was ornate, or at least, as close to the concept as anything made by the Elder Gods was.

    Eight statues of Elder Gods stood in a semicircle around a large stone chest. By their feet lay docile looking abominations like the ones they¡¯d just fought. The chest itself was a lot like the sarcophagi-boxes, only the carvings were so intricate. They seemed almost fractal, like even with a stack of Professor Endresen¡¯s lenses, it would still keep getting smaller. The room was made of black and white stone, with stalactites that glimmered with light, like a chandelier made by someone who had only heard the concept described in a language they didn¡¯t speak.

    ¡°Eight. Why are there eight statues?¡± Aelius asked.

    ¡°That¡¯s Zomalator,¡± Mirian said, pointing at the one with a face made up of needles. The last statue was vaguely feminine, as far as those traits actually applied to the Elder Gods. The rock of the statue was the same grayish color as her focus, with the same veins of subtle green. It was pierced by three swords, through the back with the blades protruding out her chest. ¡°I don¡¯t know the last one.¡±

    They approached the stone chest. Mirian¡¯s palms felt sweaty, and her heart was pounding faster than when she¡¯d been opening the door. Gently, she touched the stone lid. With that simple touch, the lid parted, the stone splitting apart and seeming to vanish into the air. The inside of the chest had a subtle golden glow to it.

    The chest was full of strange objects. One was a pyramidal stone lined with dozens of glyphs and runes, most of which she didn¡¯t recognize. Another was a cylinder of transparent crystal, capped with silver metal. Inside were tiny little moth-like creatures, lined up and completely still like they¡¯d stumbled upon an insect collection. There were geometric shapes that shifted when looked at from different angles, like the Divine Monument, but at miniature scale. There were other things too, like those resembling pieces of the golems they¡¯d seen, or complex cubes gilded with strange metals in stranger patterns, or containers with liquids. Strange metallic objects that looked like they might be tools, but not ones she could even begin to fathom the function of.

    There was one container with liquid that caught her eye. It looked exactly how the Pontiff had described it: a liquid that glowed both with violet and orange light at one angle, but glistened silver like mercury at another. Relicarium, she knew.

    She gingerly took the container, a smile growing on her face. Step one, she thought.

 Chapter 142 - Relicarium

    They all hesitated at the threshold of the final door.

    ¡°Does it¡­ is it going to reactivate?¡± Beatrice asked, peering out into the forest.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Levitation wands at the ready, though,¡± Mirian said. The weight of the relicarium in her pack reassured her. Tentatively, she took a step out the door, ready to start incinerating any branch or leaf that so much as twitched funny.

    The forest was still.

    ¡°Maybe we get a reprieve,¡± Aelius said cautiously. ¡°We studied the¡­ well, they were third-hand accounts at least, but they implied that victors get a reprieve at the end. Wands out to be safe, though.¡±

    They walked with their heads on swivels, everyone tensed and ready to start casting, but the forest was quiet.

    Then they got back to the entrance to the corridor.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a different door, isn¡¯t it?¡± Cediri asked. ¡°I¡¯m not crazy? The door was further to the left, hmm?¡±

    Beatrice stared at it. ¡°Yeah. Ah, shit. But that means Grimald and the others have to go back on their own. I hope they know to do that. We didn¡¯t plan a contingency¡­ I mean, we have the general contingencies, so he should know.¡±

    ¡°My crew has been instructed to attempt to open the door first, and retreat if they can¡¯t,¡± Aelius said. ¡°The way is clear. They should be able to make it back. They may already be on their way.¡±

    The new door opened up into several long corridors. Every so often, the corridor would bend. They took four right turns, but their path didn¡¯t take them to the entrance. Instead, they exited back into the Labyrinth.

    ¡°Where did we come out?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°I was hoping you knew,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°Aelius? I believe you have the most divination.¡±

    He nodded, and started paging through his spellbook. A few spells later he said, ¡°My aura¡¯s nearly gone. But I think we¡¯re still on the third level. Obviously I can¡¯t give direction, but this area doesn¡¯t look too complex. Cediri, can you start mapping for us?¡±

    Cediri nodded, face grim. He began with the first room, measuring its length and width, noting it precisely on his map. They moved to the next room. It was empty, but it offered a choice of paths.

    ¡°Left or right?¡± Cediri asked.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. Left,¡± Aelius said.

    They were loaded down with their takings from the Vault, lost, hungry, and exhausted. When Beatrice first said, ¡°Is that shadow moving?¡± Mirian thought she was probably just tired. After all, shadows did tend to move when a light source passed by.

    Then she looked again. The shadows in one of the corners of the room looked too dark, like it was a big coil of darkness that had been piled up on top of itself. Then she saw what looked like an arm emerge from that pile.

    Aelius was the one who recognized it. ¡°Slithering swarm!¡± he said, just as the shadow-beast leapt forward.

    Mirian sent a beam of fire at it, but the fire passed right through it. Aelius raised an aegis, and just in time. The shadowy mass cracked against the shield, the aegis glowing, and then the light from it was consumed by the python-like coil of shadows. Meanwhile, two dark arms reached out and grabbed Aelius, sending his spellbook and wand flying.

    She shot again, this time with greater lightning, but the bolt seemed to get lost in the shadows.

    ¡°Shit!¡± said Beatrice, flipping through her spellbook.

    ¡°What¡¯s it weak to?¡± Mirian called out.

    ¡°You have to light it up first!¡± Cediri shouted. ¡°Otherwise you¡¯ll never find its actual body!¡± He was clutching his notebook to his chest; left unspoken was that he clearly didn¡¯t have the mana to do it himself.

    Mirian cast a simple light spell, since she didn¡¯t have anything special, pouring all the mana she could into it. At first the shadow-python ate it, a dark mass in an otherwise blindingly lit room. It continued to pull at Aelius as his kinetic shield shattered, dragging him forward into a gaping hole of darkness in the center of the mass. Then it let out a hissing sound as the light ate into it. Mirian vaguely remembered Viridian mentioning it used a natural light displacement spell¡ªand she had just overwhelmed it.

    Exposed, the slithering swarm was made of thin wires of black bone, those wires twisting and moving constantly. When Aelius tried to swat at it, the bones shifted away from his fist, then reformed when it left. Meanwhile, its hands were nothing¡ªjust shadows. It was using telekinesis to grab him, and there was a faint line of light where the spell dug into his soul, consuming the mana.

    Beatrice started using the blunt force of a kinetic blow spell to smash at the creature¡¯s skeletal body. Finally, it dropped Aelius, leaving deep gashes on his arm and torso where it had grabbed him. As it retreated, it dragged his spellbook with it.

    Mirian didn¡¯t have any bludgeoning force spells, so she tried slashing at it with force blades like the sorcerer was doing, but both of their efforts were useless. The thin cable-like bones sparked slightly when a blade hit them, but otherwise remained intact.

    The slithering swarm crawled up into a tiny hole in the ceiling, bringing the spellbook with it. That spellbook, Mirian saw, as the swarm pulled it inside the hole, was sparking as the pages were dissolved. It was eating it.

    Then the last piece of the creature disappeared back into the ceiling.

    Mirian released the light spell. Then, realizing they were all blind without it now, she cast it again, just at a lower intensity.

    ¡°If there are more of those down here, we¡¯re fucked,¡± Aelius said simply. ¡°We can¡¯t afford to go slowly. We need to get out of here fast. If we can rendezvous with the other team, good. Otherwise, we¡¯re no use to them dead.¡±

    They picked up the pace, with Cediri doing a cursory estimation of each room before they picked a path. Mirian kept an eye on their rear, with Beatrice and Aelius checking corners and ceilings and the Ennecus sorcerer keeping an eye on the front. There was a scraping sound in the room behind them, but Mirian intensified her light. They heard a screech, then skittering fading away, then nothing.

    Mirian rushed over to heal Aelius. He let out a breath as the deep cuts mended, and said, ¡°Thank you.¡±

    When they stepped into another room an hour later, Cediri said, ¡°Damnit, we¡¯ve been here. This was the right entrance to room 28. That means¡­ let me check¡­ alright. Back to room 34, and we take a left instead. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    They followed him, still wary of ambushes. A few labyrinthine horrors found them, but they died easily enough. An attack of that magnitude was almost relaxing.

    Finally, they came across a passage up. The rock face wasn¡¯t quite sheer, but it was close enough.

    ¡°Everyone still have enough mana to levitate?¡± Mirian asked.

    Cediri shook his head.

    ¡°Then I¡¯ve got you. Wands out.¡± Mirian put her arm around Cediri and under his armpit, using Lone Pine for a bit of extra endurance.

    They cast, flying the forty feet up easily enough. ¡°My aura¡¯s nearly gone,¡± the Ennecus sorcerer said.

    ¡°Mine as well,¡± Aelius said.

    Mirian¡¯s own was starting to waver. She¡¯d been casting spells for hours by now. Behind them, two slithering swarms emerged. She whirled and brightened her light. ¡°Beatrice!¡± she called.

    Beatrice turned and smashed her bludgeon into them. One of them backed away, hissing, but the other charged.

    This time, Mirian drew her rapier. Resist this, she thought, and embraced the Dusk Waves. Her slash came faster than the exposed skeleton of the creature could evade. It screamed as she cut through an entire section of it. The other one slithered out the door then down a passage, the shadows reforming around it as it gained distance from Mirian¡¯s light.

    ¡°That blade of yours is something else,¡± Aelius said.

    Mirian nodded, adrenaline still running through her.

    Aelius peeled his eyes off the door where the slithering swarm had gone and got out his own map to compare notes with Cediri. He shook his head. ¡°None of these rooms match up. I don¡¯t know where we are on the second floor.¡±

    ¡°We keep going,¡± Cediri said. ¡°Can¡¯t really rest until we make it back. Nothing to lose.¡± He glanced at their packs. ¡°Well, everything to lose. But you get the idea.¡± He gave a nervous laugh, and they kept going.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    It took another hour for them to find a staircase going up. The stairs were overgrown with a tangled fungus, and on the other side of the door was a small econode. Thankfully, most of the organisms appeared to be harmless, except for a few cockatrice. The cockatrice scolded them from one of the high branches of a tree, but didn¡¯t actually attack. It was a welcome reprieve.

    Finally, nine rooms later, the Labyrinth had mercy on them. ¡°These two rooms line up with the outer edge of my first level map,¡± Aelius said. ¡°If I¡¯m right, that next room should have two doors and three alcoves on the north side.¡±

    When it did, the palpable tension they were all holding finally faded. Beatrice let out a sigh of relief. A few dozen more rooms, and they were in the elevator room.

    Only when the elevator rumbled to a halt at the top of the shaft did Mirian finally let her guard drop.

    At the top, the guards said, ¡°Thank the Gods. We were worried. Ah¡­ where are the others?¡±

    Beatrice¡¯s face fell. ¡°They didn¡¯t make it back yet?¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± Aelius said. ¡°They might have waited longer than we wanted after that door closed. Their route up should be clear¡­ maybe they¡¯re still on their way. Lower the elevator for them.¡±

    Together, they watched as the elevator descended down into that shaft of darkness.

    What a cruel place, Mirian thought as the platform vanished in shadow. But I suppose they die anyways. She didn¡¯t have much hope that they¡¯d return. Her attention turned to the relicarium on her back.

    ***

    That night Beatrice slept for twelve hours. Mirian only slept ten, so she was awake and devouring a big platter of eggs, scimitar lion steak, and spiced potatoes when her friend arrived at the tavern.

    ¡°Are they back yet?¡± Beatrice asked, the slightest note of hope making its way into her voice.

    Mirian shook her head. She handed Beatrice a piece of paper she¡¯d been working on over breakfast.

    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±

    ¡°Myrvites breach the spellward in a day. This is how you make sure no one dies. Tell them you found a divination device in the Vault or something, whatever you need to. I just want two of the ice wyrms that attack, but I can take care of that myself.¡±

    Beatrice looked at her, blinked a few times, then sat down.

    ¡°Something for you, Beatrice?¡± the restaurant owner asked.

    ¡°Double the usual,¡± she said, eyes not leaving Mirian. Quietly she said, ¡°You¡¯ve grown cold.¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t say anything to that.

    ¡°I guess¡­ I guess I haven¡¯t fully understood how¡­ Gods. How many times¡­?¡±

    ¡°In the Labyrinth? Not as many as you might think. It¡¯s a cruel place, but the worst cruelty I¡¯ve seen has been other people doing things to each other. Her eyes met Beatrice¡¯s, and the other woman nearly recoiled.

    ¡°Do you want to¡­ talk about it?¡±

    ¡°Thank you, but no,¡± Mirian said, as politely as she could manage. ¡°Believe me, you¡¯re better off not knowing. I¡¯m not entirely numb to it, but I am¡­ I am colder now. Necessity has chilled my grief. I am sorry. I really am. And when it matters, when it finally matters¡­ but I don¡¯t know how many years from now that might be.¡± She didn¡¯t want to say what she was really thinking. How many decades from now that might be.

    For all that she¡¯d grown, for all the mastery of the arcane arts she¡¯d achieved, it was still nothing in the face of the crisis. I don¡¯t even fully understand what causes it, never mind how to stop it. But Beatrice didn¡¯t need to know that.

    ¡°So what is it that we found down there? The thing you wanted so badly?¡± She nodded at Mirian¡¯s pack.

    She hadn¡¯t let it out of her sight. When she¡¯d slept, she¡¯d tied the pack to her by two silk ropes, even though her room was warded, just as an extra layer of precaution.

    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you. But if I¡¯m right, it should help a lot.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°We all knew the risks going down there. I mean, I never actually thought¡­ but if it makes a difference, that¡­¡± She swallowed hard. ¡°That helps.¡± She tried to smile, and failed.

    ¡°It will make a difference,¡± Mirian said softly.

    They ate in silence after that, and then Beatrice went back to her room to grieve for her friend.

    ***

    Over the next few days, Mirian began her work.

    First, she carefully measured the relicarium. She¡¯d calculated the surface area and the amount of relicarium needed to create her ideal spellbook. Her plan was to leave that much, plus a little extra, in reserve. Unfortunately, that accounted for almost all of the luminous substance.

    But there was a little left over. That meant she would be able to test the process of creating a soulbound item.

    She started by measuring her celestial focus, then sketching out the design for a new amulet in her notebook. It took a bit of finessing to get everything to fit, but the amulet¡¯s surface area would be minimal. By her calculations, there was just enough extra relicarium for her test item. There were plenty of additions she would have liked to make, but not enough of the special material for them.

    When the myvites swarmed Frostland¡¯s Gate on the 19th as usual, Mirian let the townsfolk handle them while she took care of her ice wyrms. She bribed Cediri (who took the coin as a matter of principle) for a manticore¡¯s mantic sac, which he¡¯d smuggled all the way up north and hidden in his stash, then paid Elsadorra to help her with the alchemy. Ice wyrm skulls ground down and mixed with three extracts from a mantic sac, heated slowly for several hours, then rapidly cooled, created an extremely potent arcane catalyst. The result was a thin disk of marbled white and black glass.

    The titanium alloy she needed involved more bribery; there wasn¡¯t much of the rare metals to be had, and it had to be salvaged from a special experimental spell engine (which involved paying off two arcanists). Mirian promised to replace it by the end of the next month. Then she had to work with the blacksmith to adjust the alloy¡¯s ratios slightly so it could be used in mythril.

    The good news was, she didn¡¯t need much. Then, it was on to the crafting. She¡¯d done enough artificing with fine metal that she was able to make the thin chain and the amulet setting mostly on her own, borrowing some of the artificing tools from another local arcanist. Then it was back to the smith. With his help, they reheated and treated the metal using the Luminate¡¯s process, and Mirian imbued the ice wyrm souls in it. The resulting mythril was some of her finest work.

    She set both her new arcane catalyst and the celestial focus from the underground in the amulet. Then, she created a special mold to hold the amulet so it could just barely be coated by the relicarium when she added it.

    With that done, she had to go hunting for more myrvite souls. Most of the myrvites had fled from the northern eruption, so she flew south for nearly an hour, and at last located a glaciavore and several bastion elk that served the purpose.

    The last step involved the relicarium itself.

    She placed it into the mold using Elsadorra¡¯s droppers, making sure none of it went to waste.

    The Pontiff himself hadn¡¯t known the process of using it to create a soulbound item, nor had it been explicitly recorded. Instead, Mirian had the process of binding an item already coated in relicarium¡ªthe Sword of the Fourth Prophet¡ªand knowledge of how the nine primary bindings worked. She¡¯d also read some of the discussions on the Relic Destroyer, that Pontiff who¡¯d had his name damned and erased from history, and what he¡¯d done to the Holy Pages. The Holy Pages couldn¡¯t be bound directly, but he hadn¡¯t known that, so had likely tried to use the correct ritual. Critical steps and runes were missing, but it at least gave her some important hints on how the process worked.

    She knew the second part of her work would involve binding it to her soul. The first part involved a lot of deduction and theory.

    Mirian¡¯s idea was that the relicarium was much like lava before it became rock. It currently existed in an excited state, and would crystallize, becoming permanently fixed, if stimulated in the right way. For rocks, that just meant the removal of heat energy, which was trivial. For something like this, she thought it might involve first moving the relicarium into a lower energy state. Like taking ultraviolet light and shifting it into visible light, she needed to remove energy from the equation. This was because in order to add Eclipse to her soul, she¡¯d needed to add that energy back, but linked to her own soul, putting it back in the excited state.

    From the initial divination she¡¯d done, the relicarium gave off energies that both celestial runes and arcane glyphs gave off. By pinpointing which runes and which glyphs, she could reverse engineer which ones she¡¯d need. Just like arcane energy could displace light to create shadow, she could displace the arcane and celestial energy in the relicarium.

    Over several more days, Mirian created arcane divination devices to pinpoint the glyph energies. That was time consuming, and complicated. All the energy was mixed together, but her readings on arcane telegraphs and waveforms ended up being critical. There were formulae to turn a complex waveform into the distinct simple waveforms that had assembled it. Applying that theory to Jei¡¯s mathematics gave her an equivalent she could use for glyphs.

    Mirian borrowed an abacus from the tax office, wishing she had one of those fancy spell engines Viridian had gotten from the Akanans. Instead, she calculated it all by hand. In the end, her entire desk was covered in papers filled with equations, but she¡¯d done it.

    And once she had the simple energy forms, she knew the glyphs.

    Pinpointing the celestial runes was trickier, since she couldn¡¯t create a divination device. Instead, she had to analyze the resonance by feel. Fortunately, she made a breakthrough on the 26th of Solem when she realized that the only runes involved were the ones used in the nine bindings. That simplified things immensely.

    Xipuatl would be amazed at how much progress I¡¯ve made, but there¡¯s still so much I don¡¯t know. I wonder if he would see something I¡¯ve missed? She only hoped she had gotten it right.

    By the 3rd of Duala, with the apocalypse fast approaching, Mirian had divined or deduced what she hoped was all the detectable energies in the relicarium, and all of the glyphs and runes she would need. She carefully scribed each one, triple-checking the sigil formations and testing each one.

    Then, she began to cast the inverted spell.

    At first, nothing happened. Then, the relicarium began to vanish. Her heart sped up. There had been no trace of the relicarium on Eclipse when she¡¯d bound it, except for the special surface it had left on the blade.

    She began the bindings, and elated when they found a grip on the amulet.

    She¡¯d done it!

    Mirian struggled to contain the ninth binding, as she had before. And as before, the light around the amulet intensified, as the relicarium was re-excited, but now only when in contact with her soul. The amulet bled into the air, and her room darkened. And new threads, shining with a beautiful nacreous luster, joined her soul.

    She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Waves of emotions washed over her. She thought of Xipuatl, tutoring her, and her long hours of practice with Jei. She thought of Nicolus teaching her politics and manipulation, and the long hours she¡¯d worked with Torres and Ingrid improving her craft. She thought of Lecne and Arenthia, and now Rostal, her dervish tutor. Thank you, she whispered to them. And to Grimald, who lay dead somewhere in the Labyrinth. The team they¡¯d left behind had never returned.

    Now, with the celestial focus and an arcane catalyst a part of her, she would never be without her magic. And with the mythril chain permanently attuned to her soul, she would be highly resistant to any direct attacks on her.

    So much still lay before her, but for now, she simply sat still, savoring her triumph, and let the moment wash around her.

    ====

    This story is only available on RoyalRoad and Patreon. If you find it anywhere else, it''s stolen!

 Chapter 143 - The Ennecus Guild

    With her amulet now bound to her, Mirian spent the last two days of the cycle learning about the other artifacts they¡¯d recovered. As the eruptions intensified, none of the delvers could bring themselves to hold to their original exclusivity agreement. There just was no point.

    It turned out, her divination devices were fairly useful for discerning glyphs they couldn¡¯t see in the tri-bonded glyph constructions. This let them figure out how the triplicate bonds worked, though it didn¡¯t give them the slightest idea of what those glyphs did.

    The other liquids they¡¯d found in the Vault were equally as mysterious. One of them was a powerful acid, but no one was sure what its actual function was. Another that glowed with golden light seemed to be able to absorb vast quantities of heat to no effect. Elsadorra placed a sample over a fire for an hour, and the substance didn¡¯t so much as move.

    The tools they¡¯d found were equally unfathomable. No combination of channeling or energy inputs seemed to stimulate them.

    Near the end, Aelius fell into a deep depression. He¡¯d spent so much of his life in the Vaults, but now that they¡¯d actually made it to the end of one, the world would end before he could understand its mysteries. And, as Beatrice explained the situation with the other time travelers that Mirian had conveyed to her, he realized he couldn¡¯t even share his triumph with the world.

    He took to his bed, and stopped coming out even for meals. When it was Mirian¡¯s turn to deliver one to him, the only thing he said from the depths of the shadows in his room was, ¡°It¡¯s not fair.¡±

    She could only agree.

    Mirian spent the rest of her last hours madly conducting experiments with the artifacts they¡¯d recovered, making a mess in Elsadorra¡¯s shop that nearly got her kicked out, end of the world be damned.

    And that was all they had time for. A great wind began to howl across the frostlands, sounding like the world screaming, and then Divir came crashing down again.

    ***

    The first thing Mirian did when she woke was manifest her new amulet. Since it included a celestial focus, with focused meditation, she could tap into it just enough as it orbited her soul and use that to summon the whole thing. When it coalesced around her neck, she elated. She looked over at Lily, and wanted to tell her¡ªbut dreaded having to explain why it was exciting. Also, it would create what General Hanaran would have called an ¡®operational risk.¡¯ It was imperative that Troytin didn¡¯t see what was coming, didn¡¯t even see what was possible, until it was too late.

    She conducted her usual sabotage operations in Torrviol, and confirmed that the celestial focus material from the shrine in the underground was indeed gone. Then Mirian made her way back up to Frostland¡¯s Gate and battled through the Labyrinth again with the Torrviol and Ennecus groups, purely to take a single measurement. This time, they sent the second group back so they¡¯d be at the Vault entrance when Mirian¡¯s group was opening the final door.

    When they got to the end, she confirmed what she¡¯d suspected: relicarium use, like the binding of Eclipse, was permanent. The amount she¡¯d found was finite. With no end to the cycles in sight, she decided she¡¯d take all the time her next project needed. Troytin was still making no moves into Palendurio beyond intelligence gathering, and even in that he seemed to be focused on finance and politics. Ibrahim was still smashing his armies into Alkazaria. For all she knew, the relicarium she¡¯d found would be the last she¡¯d find. She didn¡¯t want to settle for making a spellbook that was merely functional. She needed as much magical power at her disposal as she could manage. For that, she had a plan.

    They made little progress on the other artifacts from the end of the Vault, even with Mirian¡¯s aid. There was something critical to be learned with those things, she was sure, but she would come back to it.

    She said her goodbyes to Beatrice, not sure how long it would take until she was back north to visit her.

    The moon came crashing down.

    ***

    The next cycle, she headed to Cairnmouth with Mayor Wolden¡¯s fake Florinian ingots. While heading south, she resumed her disguise as Micael. After depositing the ingots and withdrawing a nice pile of gold, she checked in with Lecne so Troytin would see disruptions in the city. Once she¡¯d done that, she took another train out east to the town of Second Cairn.

    Second Cairn was significantly larger than Torrviol, but still much smaller than any of the port cities. Half of it was carved into an old quarry that had given so much stone to Cairnmouth. Once the spellwards had gone up, the city had expanded out from its fortifications, so half the second half of the city was atop the cliffs, overlooking the buildings that were set into the quarry. The town had experienced regular spring floods for decades before modern spell engines and tunnel engineering had been added to bring those to an end.

    The quarry itself had been closed not because it ran out of stone, but because it ran into an entrance to the Labyrinth. Unlike the Frostland¡¯s Gate section, no Vault had been found, even with expeditions that had bravely probed down into the fourth level. Instead, they¡¯d found numerous abundant econodes, complete with valuable flora and fauna. Myrvite hunters regularly went in, coming out with rare magichemicals and myrvite parts.

    Beyond the town, but still within the spellward, ranchers kept pens of myrvites. Most of them were low-threat creatures, but several dangerous kinds were kept as well, locked behind their own spellwards.

    Mirian¡¯s conversations with Calisto and Aelius had given her a decent idea of what to expect. The Ennecus Guildhall wasn¡¯t exactly hard to find; it was made of the local marble and decorated with banners showing the old coat of arms of the family. The stripped knighthood is a really sore subject for them, she noted. There was a cursory guard at the wrought-iron gate, wearing the kind of regalia one might expect of a knight. Between the gate and the guildhall was a nice looking garden.

    ¡°Hi. I¡¯d like to arrange a meeting with Cain Ennecus,¡± she said.

    The guard looked at her with that sort of tired contempt that guards were so fond of looking at her with.

    ¡°Can I see a secretary, or¡­?¡±

    ¡°No visits without an appointment,¡± the guard said.

    ¡°Ah, excellent. And how does one get an appointment?¡± Neither Calisto nor Aelius could tell her that, since it was one of those things they didn¡¯t need to pay attention to. They had both suggested talking to the secretary, but the secretary was in the guildhall.

    ¡°You don¡¯t,¡± the guard said, bored. ¡°Move along or I¡¯ll call the city guard.¡±

    Why are people like this? Mirian bemoaned. ¡°I have information I¡¯m assured he¡¯s quite interested in. I was working with Torrviol Academy, and happened to make the acquaintance of Calisto. She told me¡ª¡±

    ¡°We get plenty of people who have ¡®interesting information.¡¯ And learning his daughter¡¯s name isn¡¯t particularly difficult. Last warning,¡± the man said.

    Mirian made a face. Cediri was really good at intuiting whether or not a person would take bribes. Despite all she¡¯d been through, she had no idea how you were supposed to go about it. So she just asked, ¡°Do you take bribes?¡±

    Apparently that wasn¡¯t the way to go about it. The guard pulled out a signal wand.

    ¡°Fine, I¡¯m leaving,¡± she said. She rounded the corner, got out her wand of levitation, and when no one was watching, quickly moved herself over the wall. One day, levitation won¡¯t solve my problems, but not today! she thought.

    She made her way through the garden along the side paths so she wasn¡¯t in view of the gate, then up to the front door. It was daytime, so the spell engine security system was off, and the door unlocked. She walked inside. The entrance hall was fancy enough, with a semicircular second floor balcony overlooking the large foyer. Underneath that balcony was a large mahogany desk and a woman going over paperwork.

    ¡°Oh!¡± the secretary said. ¡°We don¡¯t have any appointments scheduled today.¡± She gave Mirian a quizzical look.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to get one on the books,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Long story short, I¡¯ve heard Cain Ennecus is looking for information on Elder titans. I happen to have information on them, and was hoping we could collaborate.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    The secretary blinked. Apparently ¡®Elder titan¡¯ meant nothing to her.

    ¡°Anyways, the Academy has given me a bit of coin for a research grant, so I think he¡¯d find that collaboration quite beneficial.¡±

    ¡°Wonderful,¡± said the secretary. ¡°I can inquire. If he is interested in a meeting, I can send a message your way. What inn are you staying at¡­?¡±

    ¡°Haven¡¯t checked into one yet. Do you have a recommendation?¡±

    ¡°Oh. Hmm. The Chimera¡¯s Roost is said to be quite nice. If you have the coin to stay.¡± The secretary was trying to sound cheery, but couldn¡¯t help having a bit of skepticism leak into her voice.

    ¡°Sure, send a message there. Micael Nezzar. That¡¯s information on a live Elder titan, and if he has what I¡¯m looking for, I think I can get some grant money for both of us.¡±

    ¡°Have a nice day, Micael,¡± she said as Mirian left.

    Mirian took the side paths through the gardens, using detect life to see if anyone was observing from the other side. When there were no more pedestrians nearby, she levitated back over the wall and went to find a room in the Chimera¡¯s Roost. Hopefully, the guard and secretary didn¡¯t talk to each other all that much.

    ***

    She passed some of the time by getting to know the routines of Second Cairn. She still wasn¡¯t sure if she should expect other time travelers. Maybe there were others and they were laying low because of Troytin and Ibrahim. Maybe it was just the three of them. Mirian stayed cautious, looking for any strange signs or uncanny souls, and kept a low profile.

    She passed the rest of the time experimenting with tri-bonded glyphs. She could create an artifice device that would move a scribe¡¯s pen in the exact form of the glyph she needed. With three of those devices using three scribe¡¯s pens, she just had to simultaneously channel into the three pens and the devices. This took some practice, and only started a few fires, but figured the end of the world would come before the innkeeper found out.

    After five days of waiting, Mirian suspected she¡¯d been blown off. She asked around about the Ennecus Guild at the various taverns. Plenty of people worked for the guild, though as hired labor, not members. The Ennecus family owned enough of the myrvite ranches to be a known entity around town. There were bigger ranches owned by wealthier families, but those families were either the noble houses or other absentee owners who let a manager run the operations. A great deal of money passed through Second Cairn. Through it. Very little of it stayed. There were visible signs of neglect and poverty in the town, and its streets felt far more dangerous than Frostland¡¯s Gate.

    Cain Ennecus was not his father. Calisto romanticized her grandfather¡¯s adventures. Cain thought he¡¯d wasted too much of the family fortune pursuing old legends. Calisto was either oblivious to her father¡¯s disagreements with her, or had thought she could force the issue. Mirian realized she¡¯d approached making a deal with Cain Ennecus the wrong way.

    She returned to the guildhall, needing to sneak in again, and this time, the secretary called the guard on her. Mirian retreated to her room in the inn and contemplated what to do. She didn¡¯t at all know how well Troytin¡¯s reach was in this area, and came down on the side of excess caution. She fled town, first going down to Palendurio, then heating out east to one of the smaller towns there. She spent the rest of the cycle exercising her magic. She modified her wand of levitation so the conduits had higher capacities for mana flow, allowing her to fly faster. She then spent a great deal of time doing sprints while under the form of Blooming Iron. When her auric mana ran low, she started doing physical sprints. When she tired of that, she found a quiet spot under the trees to meditate.

    It was a peaceful way to pass the time until the moon came down again.

    ***

    For the next cycle, Mirian started by getting in Calisto¡¯s good graces. Interestingly enough, Professor Viridian didn¡¯t get his special spell engine, so his lecture was instead about myrvite overhunting, a lecture that also had Calisto nodding along. I wonder what I said to him that led to him requesting one? She¡¯d known for some time Viridian was particularly primed to behave very differently due to small changes in a cycle, but she¡¯d initially assumed the change was because of Troytin¡¯s work on his side of things. Or maybe it was him, and he didn¡¯t get what he wanted out of it, so he¡¯s changed it again.

    There was no way to be sure, so she didn¡¯t spend too much time speculating.

    This time, when she and Calisto studied together and she brought up the myrvite titan, she had a different suggestion.

    First, she showed Calisto a report she¡¯d fabricated. After that got her excited, she said, ¡°You know, before I came to Baracuel, I was working on an artifice project for detecting myrvite energies. The distances it covered¡­ this Apophagorga wasn¡¯t detected too far from Second Cairn. I think I could recreate the device, given enough resources.¡±

    Calisto got very excited. ¡°Really? I knew they were working on some advanced stuff in Akana, but I didn¡¯t know that. A device that did that could be used to track sustainable ecologies. Maintaining spellwards and cages is expensive, so a tracking device could save¡­ but I¡¯ve never heard of anyone who could do it.¡±

    Mirian stroked her chin. ¡°Let me see if I can make a proof-of-concept,¡± she said. ¡°If we could find a myrvite titan though¡­ I mean, my academic career would be set!¡±

    ¡°I can think of four different ways we could become rich,¡± Calisto said. ¡°And famous. The legendary myrvite hunters, Micael and Calisto.¡± She gave her a smile. ¡°If you can make a proper myrvite detector, let me know. I¡¯d love to see it in action.¡±

    Mirian had two ideas for that. The first was to create a fake device that she could manipulate any way she wanted. But that wasn¡¯t very interesting, and it wouldn¡¯t progress any of the research ideas she had, so she shelved that as the ¡®backup plan.¡¯

    The better idea was using her apprenticeship with Endresen to access the labs and artifice in Torrian Tower. Detecting myrvites can be done by detecting the magichemicals specific to them, but with glyphs it¡¯s complex and power intensive. The range on the devices is just as bad as standard divination. The leyline detector worked on the principle of letting energy come to it, not projecting energy out, so the range was hundreds of miles. I can¡¯t make something sensitive enough for those kind of ranges for smaller creatures¡­ but celestial magic is so much better at detecting life energy, and works on the same principle of simply detecting energy that¡¯s already radiating out.

    The key would be to tri-scribe a triple-bonded glyph set that incorporated the key rune that her celestial detect life spell used. With Torrian Tower¡¯s precision tools, she could put together something capable of rapidly testing pairs of glyphs to see if they could work with the rune.

    And then I¡¯d have an actual working celestial-arcane spell. I already know it can be done from the Labyrinth. Xipuatl, if only you knew!

    She just needed to make sure Troytin didn¡¯t get wind of her project. She also needed to depart with Calisto before the eruptions¡ªor bombs¡ªprevented their journey.

    Mirian sent Nicolus south to Palendurio, hoping Troytin¡¯s attention would follow him.

    He didn¡¯t. Troytin continued to send Zephyr falcons back to Akana Praediar. Presumably, most of his changes were taking place there, but Mirian had no good way of knowing what he was up to. Nicolus¡¯s uncle had been her only contact there, but Troytin knew about that connection, and if he wasn¡¯t outright assassinating the man, he was certainly monitoring him.

    Through the Professors, Mirian at least knew that no one was making any progress on the Divine Monument. Troytin still didn¡¯t know about soul magic or that Jei¡¯s equations implied the need of a second device.

    She turned her focus to the tri-bonded glyphs. She worked in parallel on a second project for Professor Endresen, using that as cover for why she was spending so much time in the artifice labs of the tower. In truth, she could finish that part of the project in under an hour each day, leaving most of her hours for the tri-scribing experiments.

    It was nice to conduct the experiments in a place where the room already had automatic fire suppressing spell engines at work and mobile kinetic barrier projectors, as well as blast-resistant tools. It made the hundreds of failed glyph-pairs that exploded milliseconds after being scribed much easier to deal with.

    Unfortunately, there were a lot of combinations to try, and it seemed clear that she would need to include a flux glyph, which meant she had to pay close attention to what she was pairing it with. That at least narrowed down the possibility, though even she didn¡¯t have all the pairings memorized. She spent plenty of time paging through giant reference books.

    It was attempt number 214 that worked. Mirian had already been in motion, ready to clean up the inevitable mess and start over again when she realized the tri-scribed sequence wasn¡¯t exploding. She had to blink a few times.

    The rest of the divination artifice was trivial. She simply had to connect the new tri-bonded set to a relatively simple detector and an illusionary projector so the results would be easy to read.

    She brought Calisto over to the Myrvite Studies building.

    ¡°It¡¯ll show red lights to represent cockatrice, blue-green for the wyverns, and green for the drakes,¡± she said. ¡°Very small myrvites are displayed a pale red.¡± She activated the device. Her explanation wasn¡¯t quite true; what was really going on was the device was turning the intensity of the soul energy into a color in visible light, cross-referencing that with the location it detected it, and then putting that on a two-dimensional grid. Non-magical life like humans and extremely weak-souled myrvites like Viridian¡¯s plants wouldn¡¯t show up because they weren¡¯t within the range she¡¯d scribed the device to project. As a flourish, though, she¡¯d also made a short sequence that mapped large stone obstructions of a certain thickness and height to show up on the illusion as gray shapes, which made the map look extra fancy.

    Calisto practically swooned when she saw it. ¡°You made this? Oh my Gods, I can even see the sigil bees moving around the gardens! You think it can detect something bigger?¡±

    ¡°I know it can detect something bigger,¡± she said. ¡°You think your dad would be interested in this?¡±

    Calisto licked her lips. She¡¯s thinking about how much money this could help her family make. I¡¯ve got her. ¡°You think Professor Endresen might loosen your leash a bit?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I could convince her of that,¡± she said, suppressing a smile.

    Morning the next day, they were already on the train, heading toward Second Cairn.

 Chapter 144 - The Ennecus Problem

    Calisto talked nearly nonstop on the train to Cairnmouth, then somehow had more to say on the train to Second Cairn.

    ¡°¡­the real gold-printing machine would let you control Labyrinth econode releases, but barring that, what¡¯s preventing us from constructing our own econodes on the surface? Again, there¡¯s basic economic principles these old fools refuse to put into practice. It¡¯s so simple. Reduce the cost of maintaining the myrvites, and increase the number of myrvites produced!¡±

    Mirian thought if it really was simple, someone would have done it, but she nodded along. ¡°So what¡¯s your dad think of all this?¡±

    ¡°Oh, he¡¯ll be easy to convince, especially with that detector of yours. And I¡¯m sure once we can increase the range on it, he¡¯ll finally change his mind on the Elder titan search too.¡±

    Mirian looked out the window. The track mostly paralleled the Cairn River, and the floodplain was full of large farms using spell engines to move water for irrigation. They were more active in the growing season; now, the land was bleak with the onset of winter. There were too many browns for her liking. When they saw the river, there were always barges, either drifting with the current or using spell engines to go against it.

    ¡°Did your grandpa have a plan for taking on an Elder titan?¡± she asked.

    Calisto laughed. ¡°Yeah. Bring the whole guild! Probably hire some mercenaries, too.¡±

    Mirian wondered if even that would be enough.

    ***

    As soon as they got off the train, they went straight to the Ennecus Guildhall.

    ¡°Hey Bern!¡± Calisto said to the guard. ¡°Can you get the gate for us?¡±

    The guard, Bern, apparently, gave Calisto a wary look. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be attending classes. And the hall is for guild members only, not¡­¡± He turned his skeptical gaze to Mirian.

    ¡°As my father would say, the use of time should be maximized. Micael here is going to help us do a lot more good than a few classes will. I¡¯m hardly learning anything in them anyways, I could give the lectures in Viridian¡¯s class, you know.¡±

    Bern opened his mouth to say something else, then apparently changed his mind and sighed, looking defeated. ¡°Just don¡¯t come crying to me later,¡± he said.

    Calisto rolled her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not twelve anymore.¡± As they made their way through the gardens, she said, loud enough Bern certainly could hear her, ¡°Sorry about him. He never did learn how to be polite to guests.¡± She opened the door. ¡°Hey Silvera,¡± she said to the secretary. ¡°Is my dad in his office?¡±

    ¡°Calisto! Are you skipping classes? He¡¯s going to be furious with you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s always furious with me. If he ever wasn¡¯t snarling, I¡¯d assume he¡¯d been switched with a doppelganger and run away screaming. So he¡¯s in his office.¡±

    ¡°In a meeting,¡± Silvera hissed. ¡°And sound carries in this hall.¡±

    ¡°Meeting with who?¡± Calisto said, not lowering her voice in the slightest. ¡°The Thanvile¡¯s again? Are they offering an even worse deal?¡±

    ¡°Do not go into that meeting,¡± Silvera warned. She raised an eyebrow, and said very quietly, ¡°Unless¡­?¡±

    ¡°No, not that. Honestly, something better, Nicolus can go¡ªwell you know where he can go. His loss, really. Come on, Micael, let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¡°Calisto.¡±

    Calisto gestured for Mirian to follow her and they started heading for a set of double doors down a large hall. Several statues of myrvites, done in the traditional style, watched them as the passed. Mirian was feeling a sort of wry amusement at it all. If anything like this had happened before the loops, she¡¯d have been absolutely mortified. Now, it was sort of funny. This explains so much, she thought. Mirian looked at Silvera and gave her a shrug and mouthed, ¡®sorry.¡¯

    ¡°Calisto!¡±

    Calisto ignored the secretary and slammed open the double-doors, startling two older looking men who were sitting around a large table that was carved with a map of Baracuel. Thanvile merchants, Mirian assumed.

    Cain Ennecus, who was sitting at the head of the table, went from a false smile to a deep frown in an instant.

    ¡°What are they offering this time? Your own balls leased back to you?¡± Calisto asked, which was somehow even less diplomatic than Mirian had expected.

    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± one of the merchants exclaimed, at the same time the other one said, ¡°How dare you¡ª!¡± in a tone too exaggerated to really be taken seriously.

    ¡°I have a better offer. Something that will completely reshape the myrvite harvesting business. You two might want to hear it, because the more capital we have invested, the faster we can get it off the ground.¡±

    ¡°Business partnership requires mutual respect,¡± the first merchant said.

    ¡°No it doesn¡¯t, it requires money and signed contracts. Turns out, father, that I stumbled upon the man who¡¯s going to make the next innovation in artifice. And you, gentlemen, have the opportunity to invest.¡±

    ¡°Calisto¡ª¡±

    ¡°You know this rude woman?¡± the second merchant asked.

    ¡°I apologize for my daughter¡¯s inexcusable behavior,¡± Cain hissed through grind teeth. ¡°However, if you¡¯ll give me a moment¡ª¡±

    ¡°Problems can¡¯t be swept away, dear father. Only hidden. Are they offering ten percent? Fifteen?¡±

    Mirian glanced at one of the papers on the table. ¡°Sixteen percent,¡± she murmured to Calisto.

    ¡°Sixteen! The interest payments alone would kill us, you might as well just hand them the keys and let them ransack the place.¡±

    Then everyone started talking at once.

    ¡°Our rates confirm to the best loan practices of the Crown Bank of¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªextending a much needed lifeline to the family and I¡¯ll be damned if¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªcall the guard to have them arrested for extortion in broad daylight!¡±

    The shouting went on for several minutes until the two merchants angrily packed their documents away and stormed out, leaving, ¡°¡ªmay be able to offer you higher rates in the future, but certainly not lower to such an unprofessional organization!¡± as a parting gift.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    The door slammed shut, and Cain put his head in his hands. When he raised his head, his face was red and his veins popping out. ¡°We are already paying our creditors unsustainable amounts! Do you have any idea what the Akanan myrvite hunters are doing to the spell organ prices right now? We¡¯ve had to sell at a loss for years now, which is why we need someone with reach to put a damn tariff on¡ªGod¡¯s blood! I¡¯ve told this to you! Why do you insist on being so disobedient!?¡± he screamed.

    ¡°I may be able to provide some financial contributions,¡± Mirian said. ¡°My family has some money to go into business with¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes? Some money? Do you have seventeen thousand doubloons stuffed up that pompous ass of yours?¡± Cain screamed at her.

    ¡°Two thousand,¡± Mirian said. ¡°And I don¡¯t keep them there.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t hold back the creditors for a week,¡± Cain snapped. Turning to his daughter and standing, he shouted, ¡°And you¡¯ve just ruined the only chance we had at solvency! Get out. Get OUT!¡±

    Calisto left the room, head held high, but when she was out, Mirian could see the tears gathering in her eyes. ¡°Seventeen thousand? How did it get so bad?¡± she whispered, as something slammed and shattered in the room they¡¯d just left.

    You have no idea, Mirian thought.

    ***

    Calisto had gotten her in the door, but over the next few days, it became clear the situation was unsalvageable. Cain Ennecus even agreed Mirian¡¯s myrvite detector could revolutionize the business, but only after an injection of gold that he didn¡¯t have. As bad as the Thanvile Merchants were, the Allard family had an iron grip on most of the banks, and they¡¯d decided they wanted to buy the Ennecus operation¡ªwhether or not the patriarch wanted to sell. Cain had been outmaneuvered a decade ago when the Allards had quietly bought up their debt, and now the courts were forcing him to sell off his operations bit by bit. Each piece that was carved out further slashed their income, made only worse by the cheap Akanan imports that forced most myrvite-related products down in price.

    Of course, the Akanans wouldn¡¯t sell certain myrvite parts or magichemicals they considered ¡®strategic assets,¡¯ so there was an opportunity for money to be made there¡ªexcept that the Bardas family had a near monopoly on those myrvite hunting grounds. The Allards wanted the myrvite ranches of Second Cairn because the Bardas family had manipulated the guilds they controlled to cut them off from several magichemicals critical to their operations. So they went after a small, independent player: the Ennecus family.

    It comes back to the same noble families, she thought. Playing their stupid games to get more wealth and power¡ªfor what? What do they use it for? Control the resources to control others¡ªbut for what greater purpose?

    At the very least, a generous donation of gold got her access to Grandpa Ennecus¡¯s old records.

    ¡°What do I care about a bunch of tall tales about old myths?¡± Cain had spat before tossing Calisto a worn key.

    Then she and Calisto had made their way into the second level basement, where an old system of wards kept the humidity and temperature low. In the soft shadows lit by antique magelights, Mirian comforted Calisto, telling herself that her actions were necessary to facilitate their alliance.

    But the more time they spent together, the more the hole in Mirian¡¯s heart ached. She still had her fun with Valen from time to time, but there was nothing fulfilling about it. It was a distraction from her loneliness, not a cure. Spending time together with Calisto only served to remind her of what she missed. What she would continue to miss. None of her relationships felt real, because she was the only one who would remember anything about them.

    Calisto, who usually hid her fears behind an unimpeachable bravado, was disarmed by someone who accepted her in her crisis of vulnerability. When they first kissed between the deep shelves of books and scrolls, they each brought a certain desperation to the endeavor. Mirian, who had done little experimenting in her ¡®Micael¡¯ body, realized the experience was, while not unpleasant, somewhat disorienting. She had grown used to the differences and sensations of a man¡¯s body, but it wasn¡¯t the same as the body she was most used to. Professor Marva had talked with her about how some people found changing forms totally intolerable, some found it simply an interesting difference, and some people found it comforting beyond description. Mirian had always found it more interesting than intolerable, but as her hands trailed over Calisto¡¯s body, and Calisto¡¯s rough grip pulled her closer, she found herself longing for¡­

    ¡­something. Honesty, perhaps. She felt guilty, even as they kissed. Was she being too deceptive? Was she taking advantage of her? But Calisto seemed to want it too, perhaps more badly than she did, so they got lost in each other in the romantic shadows of the basement library.

    Afterward, Mirian asked if Calisto wanted to talk, and the other woman shook her head. Mirian could practically see the complex weave of emotions bundled up in her. Eventually, they returned to their task, and Calisto¡¯s bravado reasserted itself.

    Cain had an unhealthy hatred of his father, and blamed him for anything he could. In a fit of rage, he¡¯d burned plenty of his notes. Fortunately, many of them had survived.

    Grandpa Ennecus had understood the myrvite titans needed a source of energy beyond mere flesh. Based on the ancient texts he¡¯d researched involving Prophet encounters with the beasts, he thought they ate magic. Having just witnessed a slithering swarm in the Labyrinth eat a spellbook, Mirian thought this was probably correct. What he hadn¡¯t considered was that soul energy was just a type of arcane energy.

    Mirian focused her efforts on learning about Apophagorga, though there was little reliable information. The beast had last been spotted moving around an abandoned battlefield during the Unification War, though most of the reports were dismissed as peasants hallucinating, or trying to manipulate the armies into coming to protect them. One of the reports said that the beast simply walked into a hill, then became it. Mirian had watched the beast emerge from the ground without disturbing it. Perhaps moving through the fourth spatial dimension? Its movements would defy the senses in that case, and an observer might describe what they saw inaccurately as they tried to make sense of it.

    Most of what was recorded was rumors. There were several descriptions of it moving slowly, seen at great distance. Naturally, anyone who¡¯d seen it up close probably hadn¡¯t lived to tell the tale.

    The late Ennecus patriarch had found information on other myrvite titans. Not all of them were as large as Apophagorga. Terrifyingly enough, the one the First Prophet was said to have killed was at least twice as large. There was no easy weakness, and in fact, based on the descriptions and partial diagrams Grandpa Ennecus had uncovered, he speculated their internal organs shared neither functional nor structural similarities to most creatures. They seemed to have a circulatory system, and they certainly had organs, but where they were in the body varied from titan to titan. Naturally, the beasts had incredible spell resistance.

    ¡°I guess we should head back to Torrviol,¡± Calisto said one night. ¡°I have to get back to my boring classes. Looks like I¡¯ll need that certification after all.¡±

    Mirian nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you up there in a few weeks. There¡¯s something my family wants me to take care of first.¡±

    Calisto¡¯s facade dropped briefly. She said softly, ¡°So¡­ this is it?¡±

    Mirian looked at her with a mixture of guilt and pity. ¡°I guess so.¡± It felt like no matter who she met or what she did, her interactions with people all ended this way. Calisto got her own little personal apocalypse from me. Does anyone talk to me and end up happier?

    She walked Calisto to the train the next morning. For once, the other woman didn¡¯t have much to say. Mirian packed her things and took the train out of town in the evening, heading back to Cairnmouth. She ran an energy detection device she¡¯d assembled in her spare time as the train moved, noting where flares of excess energy occurred. The Arcane Praetorian she¡¯d talked to several cycles back had been right; the area near the tracks seemed to have a higher concentration of energy and eruptions. I would have thought there¡¯d be more eruptions near leylines, since that¡¯s where the problem is. And if that¡¯s not it, one would expect a random distribution. But either I¡¯ve configured my detector wrong and it¡¯s missing the eruptions and energy spikes further out, or there really is a statistically significant concentration of arcane energy near the trains and the cities. But why?

    She thought of Viridian¡¯s lectures on the climate. Perhaps the Labyrinth is involved somehow. But how? And why?

    Her other detector told her myrvite populations along the route were low, but that was expected given the spellward that ran along the whole route.

    Pondering the eruption concentration didn¡¯t help it make any more sense, so Mirian turned her thoughts to her problem with the myrvite titan. She switched the bindings on her soul around to change her features, just in case Troytin had decided to watch Calisto and had picked up her trail. As far as she could tell, no one was following her, but the extra precautions helped her feel safe.

    In the evening, Mirian went to one of the fine dining establishments in Cairnmouth and contemplated what to do over a big meal. Calisto had tried to show her the ledgers, which had only given Mirian a headache. She wanted to delve into the nuances of finance about as much as she wanted a crippling curse again. The summary was enough: the Ennecus group needed a great deal of money.

    However, they also had several dozen trained myrvite hunters employed, and an excellent reputation among several mercenary groups that regularly contracted with them. Exactly the kind of people I¡¯d need to bring down something like Apophagorga, she thought.

    She headed down south again to find a remote town to stay in, then dedicated herself to magical exercises and rapid casting practice. In the evenings, her mind wandered, thinking about how she wanted to proceed.

    As the cycle came to a close, she knew what she would need to do next. The first step would be to figure out how to get a lot of money very quickly.

 Chapter 145 - Going for Gold

    The next loop, Mirian stopped by Cairnmouth, saved Arenthia, then introduced herself to Lecne again.

    After a brief introduction, Lecne said, ¡°So¡­ you need us to teach you some more secrets of the priesthood?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I need your help in stealing a great deal of gold.¡±

    There was a pause, and then Arenthia let out a howling cackle, slapping her knee several times.

    Mirian thought she should clarify. ¡°So, I need the gold to bribe the Ennecus Guild so that they can help me hire the gang of myrvite hunters I need to go kill an Elder titan so that I can use its arcane catalyst to cast more powerful spells, which I¡¯ll certainly need to stop the leyline crisis. Specifically, I think this unique arcane catalyst might be critical in casting hybrid rune-and-glyph spells, a kind of magic I know the Elder Gods used in the Labyrinth. And I think the Labyrinth is connected to the leylines, which¡ªright, you get the idea.¡± And, such a spellbook might be critical for using the kinds of spells that might permanently take Troytin out of the picture. She was still working on the theoretical pieces, and a lot of guesswork was involved. She hoped it was possible.

    ¡°Won¡¯t you just lose the arcane catalyst as soon as you get it? Arenthia, don¡¯t look at me like that, it sounds like at least a month-long project.¡±

    ¡°You think people did that to the First Prophet? ¡®Hey, that¡¯s a neat plan you have, mind if I question it?¡¯ The poor girl¡¯s probably tired of explaining.¡±

    ¡°Oh Gods yes,¡± Mirian muttered. Then, louder, ¡°And I can¡¯t tell you everything. Operational security and all that. This is step one, in my, ah, nine step plan.¡± And I don¡¯t know what steps two through nine are, she mentally added.

    ¡°Exactly how much do you need?¡±

    ¡°Twenty thousand doubloons ought to be enough,¡± she said.

    Lecne¡¯s eyes went wide.

    Arenthia let out another cackle.

    ¡°I can get 2000 doubloons fairly easily.¡± She¡¯d tested the bank she deposited Mayor Wolden¡¯s fake ingots at, and two-thirds of the deposit was about as much as they liked to hand out. They got too suspicious otherwise.

    ¡°Hah! That¡¯s more than you ever had for your little heists!¡± Arenthia said.

    ¡°Really didn¡¯t want to rehash that part of my life,¡± Lecne said.

    ¡°It¡¯s quite literally to save all of Enteria. I think Zomalator would approve. I certainly know the Ominian would.¡± She hesitated. ¡°Actually I think ¡®approve¡¯ is probably the wrong word. More like, ¡®not understand why it was a problem at all to begin with,¡¯ much like we wouldn¡¯t understand if one ant in a colony lied to another one.¡±

    ¡°I never was much of a consequentialist,¡± Lecne said.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that word is,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Philosophy, my dear,¡± Arenthia said. ¡°You might look into it at some point. After all, if you¡¯re going to be the hand tipping the balance of fate, it might be nice to know a bit about the means and ends.¡±

    ¡°After I kill the myrvite titan,¡± Mirian promised.

    At that point, Lecne and Arenthia went off to discuss Mirian¡¯s request. When they returned, Lecne said, ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll help. The time limit makes things harder, because there¡¯s less time to prepare, and easier, because all you have to do is not get caught immediately.¡± The priest paused, looked at Arenthia again, then sighed. ¡°The way I used to do it was the confidence scheme, but it takes awhile to build up the trust of the person you¡¯re scamming. If we go with that one, you¡¯d need to find a real rich bastard.¡±

    ¡°The Palamas? Or some Akanan merchants?¡±

    ¡°The Palamas are still the richest family, but their assets are all tied up in properties, businesses, schemes¡ªyou know. Most of the really rich families don¡¯t actually have a lot of coin, their wealth is in other forms. The Allards are the ones who have the most gold they can actually provide on short notice. Westcrown is their family bank.¡±

    Arenthia added, ¡°They were supposed to divest themselves from it as part of the Unification treaty, but they got their claws back into it.¡± That was one of the reasons Mirian had saved her this cycle; the old priestess had worked at the Department of Public Security, so of course she¡¯d know about that kind of thing.

    ¡°The Allards are part of a conspiracy the other time traveler is paying attention to. It might be best to avoid them.¡±

    ¡°You could just take out a bunch of loans,¡± Lecne said.

    ¡°I¡¯ve done that here and there. Even if I swapped illusions around, without letters of reference, they¡¯ll only lend out small amounts.¡±

    ¡°Can you get letters of reference?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but I used it already to open up an account to deposit some fake Florinian ingots.¡± Mirian paused. ¡°I could get Nicolus to write more, I guess. I¡¯m starting to run up against the hard limit of how much I can accomplish in a short time in Torrviol. The more time I spend up there, the higher chance I get caught.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re going to want to confirm the reference. They might even want to compare her records to the census for any loan of an appreciable amount. Not worth it,¡± Arenthia said, yawning.

    ¡°There¡¯s always robbery,¡± Lecne said. ¡°If you can crack a bank¡¯s vault¡ªonly, that¡¯s a very hard thing to do. Security is built with arcanists in mind. And they don¡¯t keep much physical gold in the vaults anymore, at least not most of the vaults. It¡¯s all done with letters of credit and exchange notes, which use a seal system similar to what the Florinian¡¯s are doing. Which is a tough nut to crack.¡±

    ¡°You dabbled in trying to get a genuine Florinian seal. You know about this sort of thing,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°I told you that?¡± Lecne said, startling (which drew a guffaw from Arenthia). ¡°When did I tell you that?¡±

    ¡°Several cycles ago,¡± Mirian said vaguely.

    ¡°Right. Well. Hmm. It was quite a few years ago, I don¡¯t know how much I remember,¡± Lecne said, scratching his head. ¡°How much do you know about flux glyphs and glyph-pairings?¡±

    This time it was Mirian¡¯s turn to laugh.

    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s a fair question. Plenty of arcanists are more casters than theorists, you know. Right, so here¡¯s the gist of it. You know how a glyphkey works?¡±

    ¡°Intimately.¡±

    ¡°Same thing with a bank seal or ingot seal. The primary function of the glyphs is to signal or respond to a signet ring or some other minor divination artifact that the bankers use to verify the seal. Some of them even use little spell engines now, so no one in the bank even needs to be a certified arcanist. The rest makes sure you can never figure out what those glyphs are, because trying to study it will cause it to destroy itself. They use very small glyphs, then put a substance over them so you can¡¯t see the glyphs. If you try to remove that substance, you¡¯ll trigger one of several sequences that will break the whole thing, usually starting a small fire.¡±Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

    ¡°They use the special seals on all the major transactions and letters,¡± Mirian said. ¡°How many arcanists work on them?¡±

    ¡°Several. It¡¯s expensive. But if you¡¯re thinking of bribing a single person, it wouldn¡¯t be enough. Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t think of that. They don¡¯t let one arcanist know the whole sequence. They do it in layers. Except the Florinians. Rumor has it they cracked how to get a spell engine to scribe the glyphs.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t be done,¡± Mirian immediately retorted.

    Lecne raised a finger. ¡°I know. I know! Just a rumor. Me, I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s possible, never knew enough about the theory. Just¡ªmaybe worth looking into.¡±

    ¡°Arenthia?¡± Mirian asked.

    The older priestess startled slightly from her chair. ¡°Hmm? I wasn¡¯t nodding off.¡±

    ¡°The Deeps can forge a Florinian seal, can¡¯t they? That has to be how Specter got the fake ingots to bribe the Torrviol mayor with.¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Not my department. And a bit after my time. Does seem like the sort of thing they¡¯d do though, eh? That¡¯s the thing about spywork. You have to be able to throw money around, a lot of money, but sometimes you don¡¯t want your enemies getting real money. So yes, they do quite a bit of forgery in one of the departments. Which is technically against Crown Law, but they¡¯d actually have to enforce that law if they wanted them to stop, wouldn¡¯t they?¡±

    Mirian leaned back in her chair, thinking. She¡¯d stayed away from the Deeps, fearing their curses. But now, she had a permanent focus, and mythril that would help resist anything. But, Troytin, despite missing Specter¡¯s contacts, had no doubt reestablished some control over them. But maybe that was good. If he thought she was going after the Department of Public Security, maybe that would draw his attention away from other things.

    Lecne started to fidget in his seat. ¡°Which one will it be?¡± he finally asked. ¡°Break into a vault? Forge a seal? Or infiltrate the Deeps?¡±

    ¡°Hmmm?¡± Mirian said, sounding a bit like Arenthia. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll probably try all of them.¡±

    ¡°Hah!¡± said Arenthia.

    ***

    They spent a few days talking and planning. Mirian had a lot of questions for both of them, but she was especially interested in learning what Arenthia knew of the Deeps and how they functioned. While some of what she knew was no-doubt out of date, certain practices of spycraft hadn¡¯t changed. She learned about the informants, dead drops, and non-magical listening techniques.

    Then, it was time to start testing the waters. Mirian started by seeing just how easy it was to get letters of credit from every major bank in Cairnmouth. That was also a good opportunity to ¡®case¡¯ the building and see what kind of visible security it had. The most obvious defense was an alarm ward that detected illusion, but Mirian was well past using such a primitive trick. She used her funds to buy different outfits, then used the soul-binding techniques to modify her appearance at each bank.

    Lecne used makeup and wigs, like stage actors did sometimes when they couldn¡¯t afford an illusionist. ¡°Wards don¡¯t detect it, and it doesn¡¯t take any mana or soul energy,¡± Lecne said. ¡°Just takes a bit more time.¡±

    The first five banks Lecne and Mirian visited, they had no problem. Lecne still knew how to fast-talk a bank attendant and make sure they didn¡¯t look too closely at the papers. They were also taking out silver at a fifteen percent loan, which the banks were willing to take risks on.

    The sixth bank started asking them to ¡°wait a while while we check a few things,¡± after they¡¯d already waited quite a while while they checked a few things, and Lecne was the one who said, ¡°I¡¯m afraid I¡¯ll have to decline. I have an appointment in ten minutes, and it can¡¯t be rescheduled.¡± When the bank guard moved to block them from leaving, Mirian used a bit of raw magic to pull his leg out from under him so that he sprawled out on the floor while they left.

    ¡°They must have had a copy of the city census records on hand,¡± Lecne said when they were out. ¡°The guard will be showing up soon. Left here in this alley. Right down here. Now let¡¯s stop for pastries here. The owner doesn¡¯t ask questions.¡±

    They laid low the rest of the day, Lecne stressing himself out as he constantly checked for tails. Mirian watched his emotions curiously, trying to remember what it felt like to feel fear over something so minor. I guess I used to feel like that about exams. I wish I hadn¡¯t spent so much time worrying about something that didn¡¯t matter at all.

    Mirian got new disguises ready, while Lecne kept his ear to the wind that was turning the rumor mills. When everything stayed silent, they set out again.

    Several days into the surveying, Mirian stopped Lecne before they even entered the next bank. ¡°I just remembered, we have an appointment at the factory,¡± she said, closing the spellbook she¡¯d disguised to look like a ledger. That phrase was code for, ¡®we need to get the five hells out of here immediately.¡¯

    As they walked, she caught sight of two guards coming down the street, looking right at them. ¡°Down this alley. Now,¡± she said. Then, Mirian cast extended camouflage, a modification of the old camouflage spell she¡¯d used so many times, then grabbed Lecne and levitated them both up to the roof before dismissing the spell.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Lecne asked. ¡°I didn¡¯t notice anything.¡±

    ¡°I was doing a brief anti-divination check and caught a sequence used in a substance detector. The same one I¡¯ve seen Troytin try to use up in Torrviol to look for me. It¡¯s probably on right now. They¡¯ve zeroed in on something, either a hair sample or something similar. It would have been easy to miss leaving behind a single hair at one of the other banks we visited, so that¡¯s probably it.¡±

    ¡°So what now?¡±

    Why would Troytin have the devices deployed to banks? He must be setting up nets at what he considers strategically important places. Spy agencies. Money. But why would he think I need money for anything? I haven¡¯t needed any substantial sums before. Did he learn it from Calisto last cycle?

    That would be unfortunate. Except, he should have already departed Torrviol by the time Calisto returned.

    The ingots! she realized. I take them from the mayor¡¯s house almost every cycle now, just because it''s fast and convenient. But he¡¯s interpreted that to mean I need lots of gold. He was wrong before, but now he¡¯s right. Damn.

    Mirian glanced down from the roof. The two guards who had been moving to intercept them were looking around the alley. One ran to the end and looked up and down the next street. Two more guards approaching from that end shouted something that she couldn¡¯t make out. None of them bothered to look up.

    ¡°The divination device is still active in the bank. And we¡¯re still in the radius.¡±

    ¡°Can you stop the device?¡±

    ¡°Easily,¡± Mirian said. ¡°But not in a way that¡¯s subtle.¡± She summoned her amulet for the extra spell resistance, then embraced her focus, looking for modified souls. She hadn¡¯t exactly expected anyone, but there was a man with a disguise binding on. ¡°The Deeps are already involved. Damn! We must have slipped up days ago. This isn¡¯t an ad hoc net.¡± At least I¡¯ve been using different pseudonyms and disguises this whole time. ¡®Micael¡¯ can still operate in Torrviol.

    Lecne swallowed hard. ¡°What happens next?¡±

    There was more shouting down on the streets.

    ¡°We had the disguises. Your identity is still probably safe for now,¡± she said, but what she was thinking was, If I kill you and burn the body, he won¡¯t be able to connect us in future cycles. If Lecne is captured¡­ you did it to Everad, Mirian. How is that different?

    She looked at Lecne. He was scared, she knew. Even if he knew the world would be ending soon, bodies were visceral things. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn¡¯t do that to him. That was at the end of the cycle, with minutes left. There¡¯s still so many days left. I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t.

    Mirian shed the soul-bindings of her disguise, rapidly sending pulses of her soul swirling. She¡¯d found they interfered with her dervish forms, so she needed them gone.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be right back. Don¡¯t go anywhere.¡±

    ¡°Go anywhere!? We¡¯re on top of a roof and¡ª¡±

    But Mirian was already levitating around the corner, spellbook open. She opened up with fire spells, and the nice thing about a bank was there was a lot of paper to burn. The workers there started running around screaming, while the guard was busy falling on his ass because Mirian had just hit him with a bind person. The bank wasn¡¯t one of the older constructions, which meant it was more plaster and brick than solid stone. Mirian used force ram to smash a hole in one of the thin walls. And there was the spell engine. She used magnetic detonation to rip it apart, then sent a disintegrating fire spell across it for good measure. Then she smashed open the window and flew back to the roof.

    ¡°Divination engine won¡¯t be a problem anymore. Can you hold on tight?¡± she asked. ¡°We¡¯re going to do some flying.¡±

    ¡°Gods above, may you watch over this humble servant,¡± Lecne mumbled, clutching his holy symbol.

    She felt his thin bony arms wrap around her. Having a priest clutching onto her piggy-back ride style wasn¡¯t exactly dignified, but as far as she knew, there was nothing in the holy texts expressly forbidding it. She took off, flying low across the roofs.

    She heard shouting, and a flare moved past them, bright orange, followed by a green one.

    They¡¯re signaling our direction. But to who?

    She looked back, but there were no close pursuers¡ªshe was moving too fast for that. Then, she saw movement by the distant Fort Aegrimere as a skiff airship rose up from behind the walls and started moving in her direction.

 Chapter 146 - Escape from Cairnmouth

    Mirian was sure of one thing: she couldn¡¯t outrun an airship. For one, she hadn¡¯t modified the conduits on her wand this cycle, so she could only levitate so fast. And, from what she knew from her research, a skiff could stay in the air for around four or five hours, depending on what they¡¯d loaded it with.

    The other was that, even with her mythril amulet, she was outgunned. There¡¯d be at least two combat mages, maybe four, someone with a rifle, and the spell engine that kept it aloft could also burn fuel to power a shield. Also, some skiffs were armed with cannons. Blocking a bullet was one thing; blocking an artillery shot was another. And if Troytin is behind this, he¡¯s probably advised them to use spellbreaker ammunition, she thought.

    I need to find a way to hide. But was that their only divination device?

    She wasn¡¯t sure if the airship had spotted them, but staying above the roofs would make them easy to spot, and there were watchtowers around the city that might see them and send out flares. Mirian dove down so she was level with the third floor of the buildings, though she had to slow down so she could dodge the various laundry lines strung between balconies. Shouts of surprise and dismay followed her as people gawked and pointed.

    ¡°Can you cast that camouflage spell again?¡± Lecne shouted.

    ¡°Won¡¯t matter if they¡¯re using divination. And I think I¡¯ll need the mana.¡±

    She¡¯d been going south. She brought them just high enough she could peer over a nearby roof. Yup, that skiff is heading right for us. She dashed east towards the train station for a few blocks, then went up again. The skiff had changed route, and was still on an intercept course, and gaining fast.

    ¡°Yeah, they have something. The machine is probably on the skiff itself.¡± She headed south again. ¡°But if they had something to track us with at the fort before¡­ why would he deploy divination machines around town?¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s easy,¡± Lecne said over the wind. ¡°The bank probably sprayed us with a special substance that the guard can track. The detector on the airship is probably a really simple one. And it didn¡¯t need to have much range if it could start by following the flares.¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± Mirian said, taking a left where the street turned. ¡°How do we get it off?¡±

    ¡°Arenthia would probably know. My policy was always to never get it on in the first place.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not going back there to risk them.¡± She zoomed down a different street, hoping the random turns might confuse her pursuers.

    Lecne was silent for another block, then he said, ¡°Good.¡± Then, ¡°Starting to tire. Not quite as fit as I once was.¡±

    Mirian dropped them down onto a second floor balcony, then used force push to shatter the glass. She looked back at the clothes line attached to the balcony. Several items were drying on it.

    ¡°The chemical¡¯s on our clothes, right? I didn¡¯t feel it go on, so it must be.¡± She telekinetically pulled the end of the clothesline, snapping it and bringing the whole lot of drying garments with it. ¡°Change jackets and pants. Fast. Just pick something, we can adjust disguises later.¡±

    Lecne hesitated, looked at Mirian, then blushed.

    Really? Mirian thought. ¡°Look, just face the other way. But we need to hurry.¡±

    They scrambled to change, Mirian putting on a plain-looking gray jacket and brown dress, and Lecne some blue trousers. He couldn¡¯t find a jacket, so he just said, ¡°Good enough.¡± Then he swore as Mirian set their old clothes on fire.

    ¡°Down the stairs, this way,¡± she said, opening up her spellbook to major disguise. ¡°I¡¯m going to cast an illusion spell on you. It¡¯s very mana intensive to hold something like that so close to your soul, so we need to find a place to hide immediately. The fire will give us a chance to act like part of the scared crowd, so I¡¯m going to spread it. Alright?¡±

    Lecne was clenching his jaw, but he nodded. She cast, giving Lecne a distinct scar and larger nose, and herself an older face and different looking hair. She cast a few more fire spells by the windows so the smoke would billow out.

    ¡°Fire! Fire!¡± she shouted, running down the stairs and out the door. The residents and shopkeepers of the building quickly joined. Sorry, Mirian thought. She kept her levitation wand up her sleeve but stashed her disguised spellbook. She and Lecne made their way to the back of the crowd that was forming. When no one was paying attention to them, they walked away.

    By then, the airship was overhead.

    ¡°Where¡¯s the nearest arcanist¡¯s shop?¡± she whispered.

    Lecne looked around. Some of the street names were missing, but he did know the city quite well. ¡°Uh¡­ three blocks that way. Why?¡±

    ¡°Because if it were me, I¡¯d be using divination to target searches for glyphs that are common to spellbooks, but not common in household spell engines and the usual ward schemes. We need distance, and we need enough light they can¡¯t find our candle. Metaphorically.¡±

    ¡°Right. Let¡¯s walk a little faster then.¡±

    The airship stayed stationary over the building Mirian had set on fire, though they lost sight of both the building and the airship as they moved through the narrow streets and tall buildings. If it was moving toward them, she no longer knew.

    There, she thought, catching sight of the shop sign. She dismissed the illusion as they walked in since plenty of shops had wards that would alert the shopkeeper to someone using one.

    The man running the shop gave them a raised eyebrow, clearly noticing Mirian¡¯s ill-fitting jacket and Lecne¡¯s lack of one. ¡°What can I get you?¡±

    ¡°I need a wand of cleanse bronze,¡± she said, deliberately picking an obscure spell that wasn¡¯t likely to be in stock.

    ¡°No one makes that into a wand,¡± he said.

    ¡°Ah. Do you have the spell pre-scribed on paper? Vellum is preferable, as I¡¯d like it to match.¡±

    ¡°We have scrolls.¡±

    ¡°No, no, not a scroll, I¡¯ll need to cast it several times. Well, then do you have cindergold or moonlily inks?¡±

    The shopkeeper let out a sigh as he realized what kind of customer he was dealing with. ¡°I¡¯ll go check,¡± he said. As he turned his back, he added, ¡°The stock is all warded.¡±

    ¡°I would never!¡± Mirian said, sounding as offended as she could manage.

    As he headed into the back, Mirian brought out her spellbook and searched for the divination glyphs the skiff would be using. Naturally, there were several nearby in the shop itself. Channeling near her capacity, she could just make out what she thought were the signatures of the glyphs on the airship. She closed her book and started scribing a broad anti-divination ward.

    For twenty minutes, Mirian bombarded the shopkeeper with requests for rare items. Each time he went into the back, she added a bit of progress to a ward. Then she finally paid him for a pile of the junk she¡¯d requested. Mirian did one more check on the airship, which hadn¡¯t moved. As they left the shop, she applied an illusion again, this time of a different couple, and dressed nice enough people would be less liable to question them.

    Shortly after that, a pair of guards trotted by.

    They had made it outside the initial net, so now the search was being improvised. ¡°Fastest route to the train station?¡± she asked in a low voice.

    Lecne led the way.

    ***

    Once they were on the train in one of the private cars, Mirian finally relaxed. She dismissed the illusion over them, then started setting up a few of her usual wards around the room, careful not to activate any of the wards already present.

    ¡°What now?¡± Lecne asked.

    ¡°Now, I work on other things until the cycle ends,¡± she said, only half-focused on her scribing.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Lecne frowned. ¡°Why not just¡­ I understand this sounds crass, but if you kill yourself, you would start over immediately, right? That is how you explained it.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but the current cycle would persist. I would experience almost no time passing, but the other time travelers would be doing things. I can¡¯t afford to give them an advantage in time.¡± She thought of the Labyrinth. ¡°There¡¯s times it¡¯s worth it to take risks that might kill me early, but no sense in wasting the time I¡¯ve been given.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s wise of you,¡± Lecne said.

    Mirian took them south of Palendurio, then out east to one of the smaller towns that she hadn¡¯t visited yet. They found a nice apartment to rent. Mirian spent most of her time practicing dervish forms or spellcasting.

    With Lecne¡¯s help, she also worked on practicing refining her celestial spellwork. Though he couldn¡¯t necessarily teach her anything, it was nice to have another set of eyes to assess her ability and give feedback.

    One night he asked, ¡°But why do you need bindings that are thin?¡±

    Mirian raised an eyebrow at him.

    ¡°Right, yes, I can hear Arenthia scolding me.¡± He let out a deep sigh. ¡°I hope she and the others are doing okay. I¡¯m trying to think¡ªnone of the priestly classes cover what you¡¯re talking about. It might be there¡¯s old texts that describe modifying a binding like that, but they¡¯re sure to be outlawed, and plenty of them were probably burned. I couldn¡¯t begin to tell you where to look.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯re doing fine. The ongoing search will tell them we escaped, so they¡¯ll know we¡¯re alright. Arenthia will take care of the faithful.¡±

    Lecne chuckled. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m most worried about,¡± he said, but she could see his shoulders relax.

    Or Troytin found them, she thought. But there was nothing she could do about that, and there was no need to make the priest worry.  A nice little lie, she thought. People loved those little lies, she¡¯d found. If she told them with confidence, it buoyed their spirits. A little less pain to live with.

    On the last day of the cycle, Mirian prepared to die again. She¡¯d made another detector, this one attuned to light, arcane, and kinetic energies. She¡¯d noticed that when Divir came crashing down, death was near instantaneous. The physical shockwave of the moon impacting Enteria wasn¡¯t killing her. Either something magical was being triggered, or it had to do with the force of gravity. She wasn¡¯t at all sure how to measure the latter force, but hoped she could get some data on the former just before the end.

    She¡¯d found a hill where she could look southeast and see the moon coming down somewhere over Persama. She was setting up the detector when she suddenly saw a dark shape moving overland, coming in from the west.

    An airship.

    It was a Baracueli skiff, probably from Fort Aegrimere. Troytin usually leaves Baracuel as the Akanan army moves in. Are these just people he¡¯s manipulated? I wonder how he convinced them to ignore the Akanan invasion to go after a common fraudster.

    Maybe I can learn something from them. If not, best to keep them away from Lecne back at the town. Hardly any time left anyways. She manifested her amulet, drew her levitation wand, and opened up her spellbook to the page on shields, then waited.

    The airship drew to a halt in front of her, hovering, front cannon pointed at her. Mirian stood straight and tall and waited patiently. That was another thing she¡¯d found; she no longer feared death, and people picked up on that. It unnerved them.

    Finally, a voice called out, ¡°Are you going to come peacefully?¡±

    ¡°If you come down and talk, sure,¡± she shouted back.

    There was a brief pause, and then the skiff descended. Sure enough, there were four arcanists and¡ªshe could tell from the bindings on his soul¡ªa Deeps agent. It was that agent who approached.

    ¡°You¡¯re a very difficult woman to find, Mirian Castrella,¡± he said. The Deeps agent was a dark haired man, handsome, and dressed in a fine jacket. He was loosely holding a curse wand in his left hand, with his right hand in his pocket. The others stayed back, wands all pointed at her.

    ¡°And who are you?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Sulvorath,¡± he said.

    ¡°No you¡¯re not,¡± Mirian said immediately.

    The agent hesitated briefly. Somehow, that wasn¡¯t the response he¡¯d anticipated. ¡°You¡¯re so sure?¡±

    ¡°I have no doubts at all. So what lies were you told about me?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Is that how you¡¯re going to frame it? I expected something a bit more¡­ clever.¡±

    Mirian shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re doing that thing agents like to do where you ask questions and keep putting the onus to reveal information on the suspect, while trying to prod their emotions to get a reaction. I¡¯m thoroughly sick of it. Did Troytin talk to you directly, or did he manipulate one of your superiors?¡± She nodded her head at the arcanists who were ready to start slinging spells. ¡°Do they know that an Akanan is ordering them about?¡±

    ¡°We were told to prepare for some very tall tales you might tell. I¡¯m afraid I underestimated their height, though.¡±

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°Well, you are a bit short. Did Troytin tell you we¡¯re both in a time loop and the apocalypse is in¡­ oh about twenty minutes?¡±

    ¡°Now that is¡ª¡±

    ¡°Look at the sky you dimwit,¡± Mirian snapped. ¡°Is it normal for arcane auroras to cover the entire sky? For leylines to erupt out of the ground, depositing chunks of the Labyrinth? For arcane eruptions to shatter trains and sunder the spellwards of a dozen cities? For the mass migration of thousands of myrvites?¡±

    The agent was silent. He glanced back at the others. ¡°I need you to drop your wand and spellbook¡ª¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re probably part of the traitor faction that¡¯s helping Akana Praediar, or you¡¯d be busy fighting off the invasion from the west or south, so I¡¯m guessing you know Nikoline Brunn. Do you know what happened to her?¡± She caught a brief look of surprise on the agent¡¯s face. ¡°Oh good, you do. She died in her bed, didn¡¯t she? Throat slit and corpse incinerated, along with all her operational documents. Why? Because I made her a promise,¡± Mirian said, turning her gaze intense and her voice serious. ¡°She decided that¡ªeven with undeniable proof I was a time traveler¡ªthat she wanted to lie to me. She decided the Akanan invasion was more important than the fate of all of Enteria. So I told her I¡¯d kill her every fucking cycle if she lied again. And she did. And I¡¯ve kept my promise. And I¡¯ll keep my promise.¡±

    The agent went slightly pale, and glanced back at the arcanists again.

    ¡°It¡¯s obvious a normal sixth year student doesn¡¯t just suddenly learn how to levitate and build something like that,¡± she said, jerking her thumb back at the detector she¡¯d made, ¡°overnight. Certainly, I shouldn¡¯t know anything about General Corrmier¡¯s role in the conspiracy. Any honest evaluation of the evidence clearly points to the fact that your handlers have lied to you about me and what¡¯s going on. So you have a choice. I¡¯ll even offer you a bargain. We can trade information for the next twenty minutes, and then I¡¯ll come quietly. Or, I can add you to the list of the irredeemable who need to be put down like bog lions. Which will it be?¡±

    ¡°You said the apocalypse is in twenty minutes.¡±

    ¡°I did say that,¡± Mirian said, giving him a fake smile.

    The agent glanced at the sky, then back down at her. She¡¯d guessed right. His nerves were frayed, and he was full of doubts. ¡°Fine. A trade. How did you know about the capture operation at the bank?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen how those divination detectors work in detail. I just have to search for a key glyph. My turn. Who¡¯s the highest ranking Deeps agent in charge of Operation Zenith?¡±

    There was a long pause as the agent looked at her, grinding his teeth. ¡°Director Arturus Castill,¡± the agent said, then upon seeing her reaction, said, ¡°Wait, did you already know that?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Mirian said. ¡°My turn again.¡±

    ¡°Wait, that doesn¡¯t count as my ques¡ªfine.¡±

    ¡°How did you track me here?¡±

    ¡°You left traces of your ward scheme on the car down to Palendurio. Then we caught a lucky break because one of the conductors remembered you boarding the next train. Then we went through all the supply shops in the towns along the route until someone remembered two people loading up with magical supplies to go east. Once we got close, we could use the divination machine. We still have a piece of your hair.¡±

    Mirian scowled. ¡°I need to start replacing it all with bog lion hair again. How annoying. I thought he¡¯d given up on that.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your endgame? Why are you doing this?¡±

    ¡°To save Enteria,¡± she said.

    The agent scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s not a real answer.¡±

    ¡°Yes it is. Just not one a traitor like you would understand,¡± she spat. ¡°Not everyone is so greed-poisoned as your kind. The Ominian didn¡¯t command us to seize power. They didn¡¯t command us to seize gold or lead armies. I, at least, listened. My turn. What code words confirm to you that you¡¯re talking to an ally, like, for example, Specter?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you that!¡± he said.

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°Guess we¡¯re done, then.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll answer a different one. We were told you¡¯re a Persaman agent masquerading as a student, sent to compromise the operation. The guards were told you were a murderous bank robber. Where did you get the levitation wand?¡±

    ¡°Fine. Adria Gavell¡¯s corpse in the Torrviol catacombs. Why is anyone listening to Troytin? Or Sulvorath, as he might be calling himself.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s envoy of the Zenith Council. One of the top Akanan collaborators. Why wouldn¡¯t we¡­? But I suppose despite what you know, you don¡¯t know how the operation is structured.¡±

    He¡¯s usurped the position somehow. Slowly, he is gaining power, just focused on the Akanan side now.

    ¡°Sir,¡± one of the crew members of the airship shouted from the skiff. ¡°We¡¯re getting arcane energy readings¡­ these shouldn¡¯t be possible! The ambient mana has gone nuts!¡±

    The agent turned back to say something, but just then, one of the aurora¡¯s flared out, violet and orange columns of light streaming through the sky, washing the entire world in surreal color. He whirled and looked at Mirian, then back up at the sky.

    ¡°You¡¯re starting to see,¡± Mirian said.

    The earth shook. Over by the distant mountains, there was a flash of light from an eruption. Then, more and more. The agent¡¯s jaw fell open, and he began to tremble. He looked back. The four arcanists had lowered their wands and were gaping at the phenomena.

    ¡°Now you understand. I really am telling the truth. I really am trying to stop this. Troytin thinks this is some stupid contest he can win. He¡¯s blinded by his ego, or maybe the truth is too hard for him to accept. I am trying to stop it. Hence the detector over there. Did Troytin¡ªwhatever, Sulvorath¡ªever instruct you to build arcane detectors like that?¡±

    The agent¡¯s face twitched. He whirled again to look behind Mirian where the Divir moon was starting to brighten.

    ¡°God forgive me if I¡¯m wrong. Specter¡¯s code words were¡­ nightfall, cerulean, masquerade. Embedded in message, in order. The word lion is the tripwire word.¡± He winced at saying it. ¡°It¡¯s for a better world,¡± he said. ¡°It was all for a better world. One power. No more war¡­ with the wise ruling over¡­ it was all¡­.¡± He trailed off, then fell to his knees and started praying, eyes locked on the sky.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mirian said gently.

    The earth shook, and the sky brightened, and Mirian died again.

 Chapter 147 - Trial and Error

    Mirian woke up, already feeling annoyed. ¡°I hate having to deal with stinky bog lion hair.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± said Lily groggily.

    Then, she was annoyed at Lily, even though it wasn¡¯t her fault.

    As she left her dorm, she muttered, ¡°Alright, Troytin, you asked for this cycle to be extra annoying.¡± She got to work.

    ***

    Mirian decided the next easiest way to make money would be to use one of the noble houses. It seemed the simplest way forward, and the least likely to be preempted by the other time traveler.

    Nicolus, when she told him her plan, didn¡¯t like the request.

    ¡°Nurea knows a bunch of people are trying to exploit my status as heir. If I tell her you want gold, that¡¯ll raise her hackles,¡± he said, pacing back and forth on the little tower overlooking the lake. ¡°And my father¡¯s worse. The money we have left is key to his plans to revive the family¡¯s fortunes.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, and it¡¯s useless because the world ends.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a really¡­ hard sell. I mean, I believe you, but I also sorta don¡¯t believe you, you know?¡±

    Mirian sighed. ¡°Oh, I know.¡± There were some things that would be extra helpful in convincing him, she knew, but she didn¡¯t want to do something like start waving Eclipse around in front of Marduke Sacristar, someone she knew was already implicated in the conspiracy. If Troytin got word about the sword, he might start looking closer at the holy vaults of the Grand Sanctum, and that was the last thing she wanted. That damnable man, she thought. Patience. Stick to the plan.

    Nicolus frowned. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ll be able to convince him. A demonstration of¡­ knowledge? Power?¡±

    ¡°I wish that worked as well as it should work. People are stubborn. And the problem is, I have to convince people to work against things they¡¯ve been working on. Try to convince a merchant to stop making money, a noble to give up power, and a spy to give up secrets. They can¡¯t argue with the evidence I put forth, but as you have been so fond of telling me, people are emotional creatures. It¡¯s great when they just need a push, but impossibly annoying when you¡¯re trying to change their mind about something they have every motivation not to want to move on.¡±

    ¡°That does sound like something I say. Said. Will say? How do all the timelines, uh, compare to each other?¡±

    ¡°No idea,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Right. Let¡¯s go over what you¡¯re going to say to Nurea. We have several days and a train ride to figure out what we¡¯ll say to your dad.¡±

    ¡°Several days? We could leave tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°No, I need to set up some more sabotage contingencies first. Troytin¡¯s gotten better at preventing Archmage Luspire from attacking him, but I think I can manipulate him in a way he won¡¯t see coming this cycle.¡±

    Nicolus inhaled through his teeth. ¡°Man, you have gotten nasty. Yesterday, I¡¯m pretty sure you had a panic attack when Professor Seneca mentioned the upcoming exam. Well, yesterday for me. How long has it been for you?¡±

    Mirian looked at him and shook her head. ¡°You really don¡¯t want to know.¡±

    ***

    On the train ride down, Mirian and Nicolus argued, while Sire Nurea mostly stayed silent, cleaning her revolver.

    ¡°Troytin is trying to corner Baracuel¡¯s money supply. He¡¯s also finally wormed his way back into the graces of the conspirators. He¡¯s going to know what the usual communications look like, which means even if your father merely changes his behavior, he¡¯ll be on the lookout. As soon as he pushes them for actual information¡ªeven tangential information because he¡¯s being subtle¡ªTroytin¡¯s going to send his little minions down. And I¡¯m not going to give him information on my true capacities, which means we have to run. Do you really trust him not to check with his allies? I can¡¯t tell your father about the time loop. It has to be another angle.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s going to know something¡¯s up.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not fine! He has to be in control. If he doesn¡¯t know all the cards on the table, he folds. And he never bluffs. Nurea, back me up on this.¡±

    ¡°That sounds accurate,¡± Nurea said without looking up.

    ¡°Nicolus, I don¡¯t play card games. I¡¯ve never played card games.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve never¡­ wait¡­ how have you never¡­?¡±

    ¡°I know about them a little bit.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re the math expert! You calculate probabilities in your head all the time. You¡¯d fucking clean up a table, sorry Nur.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not learning to play cards to make money. Gambling dens deal in pocket change compared to what I need.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, most of them. I mean, there¡¯s probably a high stakes table¡­ right, whatever. But you get what I mean, right? If he knows you¡¯re hiding information from him, he¡¯s not going to buy into the pot¡ªgreat, now all I can think of is card analogies.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s looking to reestablish the family fortune. Surely I can represent something irresistible. I can demonstrate a unique scribing capability, and show him glyphs no arcanist would recognize. New technology?¡±

    ¡°The time of single inventors is passed¡ªthat¡¯s his view of the matter. It¡¯s about industrial capacity, not neat little innovations. Besides, the expensive applications are in the complexity of the spell engine. You know what the Akanans are making, right?¡±

    She sighed. ¡°I do. Alright, different tactic. I can impersonate people. Illusions that can¡¯t be detected.¡±

    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Nicolus and Nurea said simultaneously. Nicolus then gave Nurea a mock stern look and said, ¡°Language.¡± His knight rolled her eyes.

    Mirian drew from her soul repository, creating a binding that would change her hair color, skin tone, and jawline. The latter was devilishly hard, but she couldn¡¯t exactly explain why to Nicolus. Then she forced her soul energy currents to speed up, accelerating the change.

    She then handed Nicolus her spellbook. ¡°There¡¯s a divination spell for detecting illusions. Try it.¡±

    Nicolus cast it three times, then handed the spellbook to Nurea. ¡°You try it.¡±

    Nurea narrowed her eyes at Mirian. ¡°How are you doing that?¡±

    ¡°Not really interested in telling you that one, either. Again, Troytin just launched an attack on me last cycle, and I don¡¯t want you possessing knowledge he might find useful. For all our sakes.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ he¡¯s interested in getting an in with the Akanan industrialists, hence Uncle Alexus taking a trip over there. But you¡¯d have to speak Eskanar.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fluent enough to pass,¡± Mirian said in Eskanar.

    ¡°Oh. Wow. You have been at this a while.¡±

    She could see Nicolus doing some calculations in his head. Estimating how many hours of language lessons it would have taken. ¡°Look, don¡¯t bother trying to guess,¡± she said. ¡°We could try an Akanan industrialist looking to start up factories here.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re, uh, usually men,¡± Nicolus said.

    ¡°That¡¯s not a limitation,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I just need a bit of instruction on what to say and how to act.¡±

    ***

    The good news was, she avoided Troytin¡¯s net. The bad news was, Cain Ennecus refused to be moved and excoriated his son and his knight for falling for, quote, ¡°common parlor tricksters,¡± then asked Nicolus if the smell of a nearby bog also caused him to dump all gold in.

    ¡°In retrospect, that was probably the worst idea,¡± Nicolus said. ¡°He knows more about Akanan industries than anything except maybe the family business. You¡¯d have to really put in the work to fool him. Like, a language teacher that can help give you an Akanan accent, maybe some acting lessons, and definitely you¡¯d need to get a better feel for what the upper crust over there looks and sounds like.¡±

    That all sounded to Mirian like it would take too long. There¡¯s a quicker path. I just need to find it. Troytin already knows about my connection to Nicolus anyways. If I continue down this road, he¡¯ll disrupt whatever I do. The only reason he didn¡¯t this time is he probably thought it was a feint.

    They found a quiet place to live out the rest of the cycle. In addition to her usual exercises, Mirian researched the construction of bank vaults, then used the end of the cycle to investigate a few examples in Palendurio.

    ***

    The next cycle, Mirian tried breaking into various vaults around Cairnmouth. With her mastery of glyphs, she could occasionally open one without triggering the alarms. However, the vaults were checked routinely, and it didn¡¯t take long for a massive manhunt to begin. That, and the heretic priests had been right about the modernization of the financial sector: there were notes with special seals, but not nearly enough physical gold. She would have to hit multiple vaults, and now Troytin would be watching them even closer so she could rely on simple iterations. He was a fool, but she wasn¡¯t going to make the mistake of underestimating him.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    She headed south again to wait out the cycle, hiding in a little cottage by the coast. This time, she didn¡¯t slip up in covering her tracks.

    ***

    Mirian tried to plan a heist with the Cairnmouth Syndicate next, only to learn that they actually had signed agreements with the Allard family and several major banks not to duplicate their seals or rob their establishments. A great deal of Syndicate gold was actually deposited in secret accounts in those banks. The criminal representative firmly told Mirian that interfering with business partners was off the table.

    That seemed insane to her. The higher ups running the banks knew they were helping launder money for the largest criminal organization in Baracuel? She wasn¡¯t sure how many laws everyone involved was breaking, but she also knew it didn¡¯t matter. Gods above, every stone I overturn just has more rot beneath it, she thought.

    She kept detecting divination machines in Cairnmouth, so even though she¡¯d replaced her dormitory hair with bog lion hair again, she didn¡¯t stick around.

    Her attempts to measure the energy of the moonfall was a failure. There was simply no time between impact and  annihilation.

    ***

    The next cycle, she couldn¡¯t make sense of the math. ¡°The shockwave has to be traveling through the fourth dimension,¡± she found herself muttering to the equations on her table. ¡°But it¡¯s not working like the current theories would predict. It should still be propagating at the same velocities seen in our three spatial dimensions, even with its special properties.¡±

    ¡°Mirian, what are you working on?¡± Lily asked her.

    ¡°Ah, nothing,¡± Mirian said, and lit the whole bundle of papers on fire, then compacted the smoke and ash into a little ball that she extracted the heat from, then dropped into the trash.

    Lily stared at her. ¡°Uh¡­ did you just¡­?¡±

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°Been practicing a bit.¡±

    She left for Cairnmouth a few days later.

    Her next attempt was to try to get in with the Allards. Nicolus and Sire Nurea could get her a meeting with one of the family members, and she could get Calisto to write her a letter of support. After several days of negotiations, she finally was invited to one of the Allard manors in the countryside outside Cairnmouth to discuss her proposition. She was making progress in convincing them she could use her ins to buy out the Ennecus Guild and put them under Allard family control, but then one of her wards triggered.

    Nicolus and Nurea were sitting by her side when it happened.

    ¡°Airships,¡± Mirian muttered, and reached for her spellbook.

    Enrico Allard, the man negotiating with her, turned to look out the window. ¡°Hmm?¡± he said.

    This time, though, there wasn¡¯t an attempt to deploy a net to arrest her. The lead airship fired its main cannon directly at the meeting room.

    Mirian put up a force shield and dove to the side. It was only her early warning that had saved her. The shot hadn¡¯t been a direct hit, but it had taken out a chunk of the ceiling and masonry. The stone floor from the room above had collapsed down. Nicolus had been crushed instantly, along with most of the negotiating team. The Allard family member seemed to be alive. Mirian thought she¡¯d detected a charged ward in his clothing going off. If so, that was all that had saved him. Nurea stirred next to her; Mirian¡¯s shield had protected her from the worst of the blast. The ornate furniture had caught fire, and the second airship was on its approach.

    Mirian embraced the Dusk Waves Across the Ocean form so that her reaction times would be better. The strength of the form was weakened by the bindings she had on to disguise herself, but it would still help. She quickly flipped through her spellbook, casting flame shield, readjusting her force shield, and then casting a magnetic barrier. She manifested her mythril amulet, then used an enhanced lift person to grab both Enrico Allard and Nurea and levitated them back with her as she used her levitation wand. She headed straight through the conference room doors, letting her shield smash down the door for her. She made a hard turn down the corridor, just in time to avoid the follow-up shot from the second skiff. The conference room exploded, this time having gotten a direct hit. Burning debris scattered throughout the Allard manor.

    ¡°What¡ª?¡± Enrico managed.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been betrayed by your Akanan allies,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Do you have a safe room? Arcanists to defend the family?¡±

    ¡°Basement,¡± he croaked, and tried to fumble for something at his belt. That was when she saw that his hand had been mangled, though he might have been in enough shock not to notice.

    Mirian flew them down a spiral staircase as another cannon shot shook the manor. ¡°Where is it?¡± she asked.

    The Allard man let out a wheezing cough, examining where they were. ¡°Seco¡­ second room. Behind book case.¡± He gestured down the hall, then continued to paw at the something at his belt. ¡°Need the¡­ need¡­¡±

    Mirian blew the doors off its hinges, then telekinetically yanked the bookshelf off the wall, revealing a hidden staircase. At the bottom of it was a reinforced door, warded to hell and back. She gently laid Nurea and Enrico on the ground, then found the enchanted pouch at the Allard man¡¯s side. The glyphkey inside was as intricate as any she¡¯d seen. She opened the door with it, then levitated them both inside, dropping her protection spells.

    ¡°Nicolus¡­¡± Nurea groaned. ¡°Where is¡­?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll see him again. Just, not for another month,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°No. No!¡± Nurea said, finally coming to her senses. Or at least, most of them. The knight¡¯s head was bleeding pretty badly. Mirian guessed she had a concussion. ¡°Where is he? WHERE IS HE?¡±

    The building shook again, then again. Above them, it sounded like another part of the structure had just collapsed. Mirian looked around the room. There was a large spell engine, an ornate display case with a spellbook and several wands in it, a shelf full of ledgers, a table, a bed, and a wall covered in cupboards.

    ¡°Sire Nurea. Do you want to stay here, or come out and fight?¡±

    ¡°Fight,¡± she snarled, and pulled out her wand and pistol.

    Mirian embraced her focus, gently sending healing waves through the knight¡¯s head. Some of the damage would take more time and care to fix, but it would keep her on her feet for now. She did the same to Enrico.

    ¡°Alright. Enrico Allard, can you rally reinforcements from here?¡±

    ¡°Y-yes. I feel well enough now¡­ did you¡­ but of course. I can broadcast commands. And we have a personal telegraph here for¡­ emergencies.¡±

    Huh. Just keeping myrvites from eating the cables must cost a fortune. I wonder who else is maintaining secret telegraph lines? she wondered. ¡°Good. I¡¯ll be back. Let your allies know not to fire on the spellcaster they can¡¯t see. Nurea, join the Allard mercenaries in trying to harry the airships if they get close. Use cover, and force shields to deal with the shockwaves from their spellfire shells.¡±

    ¡°On it,¡± Nurae said, face contorted in anger. She started up the staircase.

    ¡°What?¡± Enrico asked.

    ¡°Just relay the order,¡± Mirian said. Assessing her auric mana, she was still¡ªfine. Her intense practice under Blooming Iron had expanded her mana reserves drastically. She cast improved camouflage, a spell she¡¯d been working for some time to perfect. It used three layers of light refraction around a tight oval. It still wasn¡¯t perfect, especially near intense light sources, but it would make her much harder to spot, especially in a pitched battle.

    Mirian took off back up the stairs, casting force shield and magnetic shield again. From a window, she started several more fires around the outside of the manor then, using several glyphs from condense smoke, improvised a spread smoke spell. She used force pull to feed the fires with green shrubs from the gardens surrounding the estate so that the smoke was more intense. Another shot shook the manor. She leapt through the window and took off flying, shooting straight up as the airship moved away.

    Mirian surveyed the battle. The skiffs were flying in a circular pattern, diving low to let the spellcasters aboard pepper the manor with fireballs and ray spells. That, plus the main cannon, forced the defenders into cover, but the ship was already moving away before the defenders could meaningfully retaliate. They were exploiting the difficulty of casting a spell at a distance and the relative immobility of their opponents. The Allard¡¯s guards and trained servants were doing their best to shoot at the airships, but the airships were also running shields using their spell engines.

    She could flee while they were distracted, she knew, but now that Troytin had attempted to assassinate Enrico, she also had the perfect opportunity to get information from the Allards. Worth the risk, she decided.

    Hovering above the lead airship, she started moving in a circular pattern to match its route. She switched her form to that of the Lone Pine. As the first airship came through for another pass, she dropped down.

    Moments before she hit, Mirian summoned Eclipse, gripping it so the blade was pointing straight down. As she hit the force shield surrounding the airship, she drove the mythril blade into it with the weight of her fall. She felt something important tearing her arms and shoulder, but the dervish stance helped blunt the impact and the pain.

    Then, several things happened at once.

    The shield flared with light as the kinetic force was transformed by the mythril¡¯s connection to her spell resistance. The spell engine, designed to increase its power when the shield was impacted, started burning fossilized myrvite so rapidly that Mirian felt the ambient mana change. The plume of toxic D-class mana started causing a rapid exothermic reaction as it ran into everyone¡¯s auras. Two of the arcanists closest to the spell engine dropped to the ground, burns forming all over their bodies; only the fast movement of the airship kept Mirian and the others by the front of the ship from joining them as the deadly mana was left behind.

    The pilot, realizing the entire skiff was about to run out of fuel, slammed a glyph on the console to cut power to the shield, and Mirian, still camouflaged, dropped down amidst the crew and soldiers. Mirian decapitated the arcanist in front of her with a quick slash, then pivoted and cut through a rifle and then into the torso of one of the soldiers.

    ¡°What in the five¡ª!¡± a Baracueli sorcerer asked, shortly before his throat was cut. That left the two gunners, an Arcane Praetorian, and the pilot.

    The Praetorian wasted valuable time trying to hit Mirian directly with a disintegration spell, but with both the mythril of the blade and her amulet, the direct spell dissipated harmlessly on her. Before he could switch spells, Mirian hit him with a force blast, which sent his spellbook flying over the railing, then greater lightning, coated in soul-energy to pierce the resistance of his own orichalcum jewelry.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± The pilot asked. Then, getting no response, she turned, in time to see a distortion of light with a silver blade coming out of it.

    ¡°God¡¯s blood!¡± she said, and sent the airship into a wild tilt.

    Mirian slid down the deck, then over the railing, along with the two gunners, who hadn¡¯t been ready for the maneuver either. While the others plunged to the ground, Mirian resumed levitating. However, the airship didn¡¯t recover from the tilt. With its spell engine damaged from the shield overheating, it didn¡¯t have the force to rebalance the aircraft. The ship started spinning. The centrifugal force ripped apart the engine, and it plunged into the ground and erupted in an arcane fireball as the thousands of glyphs in it shattered and erupted.

    She looked at the wreckage only long enough to confirm it wouldn¡¯t be a threat, then turned her attention to the second airship. She likely had a dislocated shoulder and several torn muscles, along with burns over her skin.

    The manor was full of gaping holes where artillery shots had punched through, and smoke billowed out from the fires within it. She needed to end this fight quickly to secure the safety of Enrico Allard. She dematerialized Eclipse so the blade wouldn¡¯t give her camouflage away and got ready to continue the fight.

 Chapter 148 - Breaking the Banks

    The second airship may not have been sure what just happened to the first one, but the pilot on board had been watching. The skiff accelerated, then started doing evasive maneuvers as it approached, randomly weaving through the sky as it passed the manor again, sending out another bombardment of fireballs. The return fire from the manor was meager; a few beams and bolts either missed entirely or just fizzled on the ship¡¯s shield. The estate guards and armed servants were in no way prepared for this kind of firefight, and whatever reinforcements Enrico Allard had called for would be too late.

    Mirian descended to the ground, hiding in the garden. She kept her camouflage spell up, but dismissed everything else. Then she drew from her soul repository, healing her arms. There was barely any soul energy left at that point, which was concerning. At least her auric mana was doing better.

    The airship¡¯s new tactics would mean she needed to change hers as well. She might be able to use levitation to ambush it, but she just as easily could exhaust herself as it maneuvered away from her attempts. Mirian flipped through her spellbook. There was a distinct paucity of the kinds of destructive spells she would need to bore through an airship hull or pierce a spell engine generated shield.

    The skiff has to be moving at top speed. The amount of inertia it has¡ªI wonder if I could use that against it? she thought. Her gaze narrowed in on the debris around the manor. There were sections of solid stone. If I could get it to collide with that¡ªI can move a stone wall of that size faster than I can fly. But the pilot would just adjust course. Unless¡­.

    Mirian got an idea. She moved closer to the manor until she was closer, hiding behind one of the fires in the garden she¡¯d set. A few meters away was a hunk of stone wall. She flipped through her spellbook, fingers marking the pages she¡¯d need. Coordinates for a rectangular prism, lift object¡­ and my improved camouflage is the last piece.

    She¡¯d never tried to improvise a spell this complicated, but she did have all the glyphs she needed. Mirian rapidly switched back and forth, needing to use six different flux glyph pairs to stabilize the light-bending spell around the new coordinates. The result was an illusion spell that bent light from behind it and projected it forward, centered on the chunk of marble wall. It wouldn¡¯t be perfect, but the stuff behind it would be a sky full of gray clouds, and the illusion itself would be shrouded in smoke. She finished casting, holding that spell in her mind as she then applied lift object to the stone.

    As the airship approached, she started lifting the stone wall. The skiff predictably accelerated as it made its approach, and while it could evade, it had to bank before it started to turn. There! She saw the wings tilt, and repositioned the wall to be in front of the new course.

    The pilot didn¡¯t even slow. Mirian released the spell as the airship impacted the thick marble, and inertia did the rest. The shield flared and broke. The bow of the ship crumpled so fast it looked like it vaporized, and the hull cracked down the center. The left wing was sheared off entirely. The spell engine broke apart, either from being pulverized or overloaded, and the ship ignited in a burst of arcane fire, orange and violet ribbons of light spiraling madly behind the ship as it plummeted to the ground. The impact was visceral, and she felt the ground tremor.

    Mirian dismissed her personal camouflage spell and made her way to the manor, using air manipulation spells to smother the fires in the garden, then heat displacement spells to stop the small fires she encountered in the manor. This time, she didn¡¯t use a window; she could just enter by stepping through a gaping hole in the wall.

    She found Sire Nurea, slumped over by a window, pistol empty and discarded, wand cracked open, and hand over a bleeding wound in her side. From the damage to the wand, Mirian guessed Nurea had lost control of her mana and ruptured a conduit. Despite bleeding out, her eyes still held unrestrained fury.

    Mirian knelt by her side, gently mending as much of the bleeding as she could until her soul conduit was completely empty. ¡°That¡¯s all I can do for now,¡± she said gently.

    ¡°This is all your fault,¡± Nurea snapped. ¡°We should have never got entangled in¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fourteen days left,¡± Mirian said. ¡°It was always going to end like this. Do you know what the alternative is?¡±

    Nurea said nothing, but grit her teeth as she stood.

    ¡°Without my intervention, you and Nicolus flee Torrviol and are on a train that is next to a leyline when it erupts. You die. He lives. He holds your corpse for hours, weeping, trapped in a train car until myrvites eat him alive.¡±

    That broke Nurea. She fell to her knees and wept, tears full of fury.

    Mirian knelt by her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. ¡°I promised you both that, when it matters most, you¡¯ll live. I intend to keep that promise. Take the time you need to grieve, but this isn¡¯t over. Another you will see him again.¡± Mirian turned to go, thinking the knight would need some time, but Nurea¡¯s tears abruptly cut off, and she rose again. Her face twitched, and her eyes were still red. She looked like a mess. Mirian wasn¡¯t foolish enough to believe she¡¯d gotten herself under control that fast, but she could at least mask it, it seemed. Wordlessly, they headed back down to the safe room.

    ¡°Who took out the airships?¡± one of the Allard guards asked. ¡°We didn¡¯t see any¡ª¡±

    ¡°Me,¡± Mirian said. Everyone in the room turned to stare at her. She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Unless you think airships just do that on their own?¡±

    One of the Allard arcanists turned to Enrico and said, ¡°Sir, the airships both came under attack by¡­ something. I was unable to determine what, but both ships were destroyed in short order. I do not believe it was our efforts.¡±

    ¡°She has a levitation wand, which implies a certain capacity. And certain connections,¡± Enrico said, still looking rough around the edges. To Mirian she said, ¡°Naluri, what in the five hells was that? Why was I attacked?¡±

    Time to change my cover story. ¡°You are aware of the wide-reaching¡­ negotiations among the Akanan and Baracueli¡­ heights?¡±

    Enrico glanced at his guards. ¡°This discussion needs to be private,¡± he said.

    ¡°Sir¡­¡±

    ¡°If she wanted to harm me, she had the perfect opportunity. See to the house. I am informed it is still on fire?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± The guards left.

    Sire Nurea sat down, clenching her jaw.

    ¡°She is¡­?¡±

    ¡°Aware. She was the one who contacted me. The Akanans never intended to fulfill the bargain, just divide Baracuel up before conquering it. They¡¯ve betrayed the Sacristar family already, so they came to the Praetorian elements they knew they could trust. There¡¯s selective purging going on, and I got a tip your family might be next. I needed a pretense to get people over here, hence the negotiations. But I thought we had more time.¡±

    Enrico Allard looked concerned. ¡°Why would they target me of all people?¡±

    ¡°My tip didn¡¯t include that information. You tell me.¡±

    He moved to rise, winced, clutched his side, then settled back down. ¡°I¡¯ve been coordinating distribution of donations to our favored Parliamentary candidates,¡± he said. ¡°And scheduling meetings of interested parties. And working on the funding side of galas. All perfectly legal activities. I¡¯ve only heard about the project through small talk at the galas. In no way am I key to anything.¡±

    ¡°Someone seemed to think you were. Or perhaps there¡¯s something here they wanted.¡± Mirian glanced over by the cabinets. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Enrico followed her gaze. ¡°There¡¯s a great deal of financial records. With enough time and accountants, someone could certainly make something out of them, but it would be information, not control. The Allard family has embraced modernity. Gold ingots can be stolen. Stocks and letters of credit use magical seals that are marked with the owner.¡±

    Mirian saw her opportunity. ¡°And how sure are you the seals can¡¯t be broken?¡±

    ¡°A great many people have thought they could do that. They are dead or shackled in labor camps. Even the underworld appreciates financial stability.¡±

    ¡°Adria Gavell, one of my colleagues, brought to my attention a program within the Deeps. And then she showed me a Florinian ingot. The bar was gold coated over lead. It had the wrong weight, but the seal was a perfect forgery.¡±

    Enrico blanched. ¡°Impossible!¡±

    ¡°I saw it with my own eyes, or I wouldn¡¯t have believed it myself. So, take that information into your calculations,¡± Mirian said, wandering over to the display case. ¡°Do you know why they¡¯d attack you here now?¡±

    The Allard man stared blankly at the wall, deep in thought. Then he said, ¡°They really have compromised the seal system? The public can¡¯t know. It would be a disaster.¡±

    ¡°Of course not,¡± she replied, but her attention was now on the spellbook and wands that were in the case. This is some quality craftsmanship, she thought. That black hide with a slight prismatic sheen¡ªthat must be treated glaciavore hide. No one even makes that anymore. And unless I¡¯m mistaken, it¡¯s using a titanium protective lace. Already primed for transmutation into mythril. The glyphwork is impeccable. Perhaps I could use it. She turned her attention back to Enrico. ¡°Perhaps the Praetorians can assist. You want your assets to be secure. We want monetary stability and to curtail the Deeps overreach.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need to talk to my superiors,¡± he said.

    ¡°Make sure to mention the attack,¡± she said. ¡°If they¡¯re amicable to the deal, I can start immediately. My expertise is in glyphkeys, wards, and building security, so I¡¯m sure I can apply that here. I don¡¯t know how much other aid I can pull. The Praetorians are¡­ stretched thin, to put it lightly.¡±

    Enrico gave a nervous laugh. ¡°You have a handle on that, ah, unfortunate mess by the border?¡±

    ¡°By the grace of the Ominian, we can only hope.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s gotten that bad?¡± he said.

    ¡°No,¡± Mirian said, thinking of what was to come. ¡°It¡¯s much worse.¡±

    ***

    The Allard telegraph system reached down into another of their estates just outside Palendurio. From what she could tell from what Enrico told her, the shockwaves from Troytin¡¯s attack on the Allard manor spread from Palendurio to the Florin Principality. His strike had disrupted her initial plan, but he¡¯d inadvertently sundered the tenuous alliances of the noble houses and the Akana elite entirely. For once, Akanan battleships didn¡¯t appear along the Rift Sea by Cairnmouth. From the second-hand rumors, it seemed General Corrmier¡¯s coup failed. He might have fled the city, or he might have gone into hiding¡ªno one was sure.

    When she casually investigated the origin of the spellbook, she learned it was made by the only Allard who¡¯d made it to archmage; Enrico¡¯s great grandpa. He hadn¡¯t survived the Unification War, but they¡¯d recovered the spellbook, and it had become a family heirloom.

    The real victory was that Mirian was given unfettered access to a high security workshop owned by the Allard family, where the artificers there showed her some of the key glyph sequences they used. Mirian was surprised to learn that she could give them advice on improving the security of the sequences, even given incomplete information.

    She was fascinated by the ideas they were using, both with glyphs and materials. She made a mental note to check with Professor Seneca about the chemistry of the clay and glaze they used on the seals. The special clay allowed scribing, but once glazed and magically fired, scribing pens no longer worked. The seal also bonded chemically with the paper somehow so it couldn¡¯t be removed except by a second special process that allowed the transfer of ownership.

    She also learned the names of more conspirators as Enrico asked her questions, assuming she knew more than she did. One ¡°Silou Westerun,¡± an older Baracueli man living in Vadriach, seemed to be a key player. The name seemed familiar, though she couldn¡¯t place where she¡¯d heard it before. She did what she could to commit all the names and positions to memory.

    Three hours before the apocalypse, she broke the case containing the archmage¡¯s spellbook and did a detailed study of it, including analyzing the titanium alloy and the minuscule wards that were incorporated into the binding. A standard spellbook had small wards that waterproofed the pages and made the book fire resistant¡ªcritical for something that had arcane energy constantly pouring through it. Small imperfections in the glyphs often led to heat energy bleeding out into the pages, and so a spellbook without fireproofing was liable to burn.

    The Allard archmage, though, had thought of a dozen more contingencies and made his spellbook resistant to divination, cutting, material-component spells, and acid, as well as wards that locked the book against intruders. I can improve on that sequence, she decided. I can link the lock to a celestial rune imprinted with my soul. That should be impossible to override. The only way to open it would be to break it. Specter¡¯s lockbox with the curse wand does something similar.

    First, the relicarium. Then, I can use this for the binding. Then to Palendurio for the Holy Pages. Last, the myrvite titan.

    With only a short time left, Mirian examined the wands in the case as well. One was a fireball wand that really was a masterpiece; it used three parallel conduits, with crystals so fine she had to assume Zhighuan arcanists had made it. The other layered both force and fire shields together. Impressive, but Archmage Luspire¡¯s prismatic shield spell is better. I really ought to get him to teach me that one. But how to do that in the limited time I have in Torrviol?

    A realization dawned on her. Or¡­ I could just steal his spellbook. Huh.

    ***

    Mirian spent the early days of the next cycle disguised as Micael again, then used her apprenticeship with Professor Endresen to get tutorials on glyph-chemistry interactions with Seneca.

    She waited until Troytin arrived with his contingent of Akanan professors. He¡¯d added two people to the mix, both of whom pretended to be professors, but seemed like obvious agents to Mirian. One of them kept tripping over divination wards in Bainrose while skulking around in places he shouldn¡¯t have been, while the other was often shadowing Jei or Torres.

    With her two long-term allies under such close scrutiny, Mirian avoided interacting with them altogether. Instead, she gathered some hair samples from a chair Troytin had sat in. That night, she bound up her own hair and used thin caster¡¯s gloves so she¡¯d leave no trace of herself. First, she hit a store of zephyr falcons the Akanans were keeping over in the Myrvite Studies building, releasing them all with notes written in Eskanar all giving out questionable instructions.

    Then, she used illusion magic to disguise herself as Troytin and levitated up to Luspire¡¯s quarters in Torrian Tower. She smashed the window, deposited the hairs, and snatched the Archmage¡¯s spellbook from its stand. An incredulous Luspire bursting out of his bedroom in his nightclothes caught a glance of her as she flew back out the window.

    Perfect.

    Quickly, she flew across town, broke into an Academy workshop to destroy the tracking glyphs on the outside of the spellbook, then she fled town. She landed on the roof of the midnight train as it began to chug away, then snuck onto the train and into one of the empty cars.

    Talk yourself out of that one, she thought.

    With the other time traveler now distracted and missing his ability to rapidly give out orders, Mirian headed back down to Cairnmouth. She spent two days buying up chemistry and alchemistry supplies and setting herself up a workshop in a rented apartment. Then, she set about fabricating one layer of an official Allard seal. When she was done, she paid a visit to the Allard workshop and told them she¡¯d discovered a fatal flaw in their process. Her evidence was necessarily very convincing, as she could discuss their trade secrets while pretending like it was something she¡¯d reverse-engineered.

    Her offer to fix the problem¡ªat a premium wage¡ªwas accepted. That got her an in to see another part of the process that she otherwise would have been barred from seeing.

    In the evenings, she read Luspire¡¯s spellbook and copied down the glyph sequences she¡¯d need for his advanced fire spells and prismatic shield. After a few days, though, she destroyed the spellbook, having discovered that he¡¯d embedded tracking glyph sequences throughout the pages. I can always get the book again, she reasoned.

    The minuscule glyphs the Allard workshops used and the finicky nature of the special clay they had to scribe in was by no means easy to learn, but by now she had been practicing precise artifice and glyphwork for almost a decade. She quickly impressed the other artificers with her ability, and the master of the workshop raised her salary to make sure they didn¡¯t lose her. Mirian found it mildly amusing. As the crisis developed, the arcanists all got very focused on the security of their building, and dismissed the eruptions outside town entirely.

    When it all came to an end, Mirian repeated the broad strokes of her tactics. Three cycles later, and she could fabricate an official Allard seal from scratch.

    Late in that cycle, she brought her own custom-made letter of credit for three thousand doubloons down to a random bank in Cairnmouth. The bankers ran the letter through their spell engine twice, then got an artificer to check it as well. It passed.

    Mirian left the establishment with a grin. That should solve the gold problem, she thought.

 Chapter 149 - Preparing for the Beast

    The next cycle, Mirian planted several incendiary devices in the rooms where Troytin sometimes stayed, then talked to Torres about sabotaging the spell engines he¡¯d be bringing so they¡¯d blow up in his face specifically. She sketched out what a divination-proximity trigger would look like for her. Torres was deeply uncomfortable with the idea, but reluctantly agreed. Next, she got Calisto interested in her project, then set a date for them to meet in Second Cairn with her father.

    Then she headed down to Cairnmouth and started working on a workshop and then production line.

    Mirian hit five different banks that she knew weren¡¯t connected to each other, picking only one that was run by the Allard family. She used a different disguise in each one, relying on an old Syndicate contact, Numo, for fabricated introductory letters and forged identity documents. While the Syndicate had rules preventing it from working against its allied banks, it also had a policy of not asking why someone needed forgeries. Numo, like the good Syndicate man he was, didn¡¯t ask any questions. If Mirian had been planning on sticking around, the deception certainly would have come back to bite her. As it was, she just needed everything to pass muster for a few weeks.

    To further allay the suspicions of the banks, she deposited some of the gold the letters of credit entitled her to and withdrew only a portion. That gave her ten thousand doubloons. Four more letters of credit of varying amounts made up the other ten thousand.

    She spent another two days assembling a myrvite divination engine based on her previous designs. The difference was, this one had a setting that would pick up only the most intense soul readings.

    The next challenge was moving it all. The doubloons weighed 150 pounds, and the divination engine another 50, so she bought a cart, then spent some time scribing glyph wards so she could both reinforce the case and ward it from basic divination. It wouldn¡¯t do to have a common criminal with even rudimentary magical training discover her; not because she couldn¡¯t handle it, but because it would draw unnecessary attention. Then she hired a small team to come with her. It felt strange to have people doing things for her. She didn¡¯t like not having her own hand on her luggage, and it felt strange to order people about outside a military context.

    By the 12th, she¡¯d made it to Second Cairn and reassumed her Micael disguise. On the 13th, Calisto joined her for the meeting. This time, the meeting was properly scheduled and Mirian had discussed their strategy beforehand.

    That afternoon, she sat down in front of Cain Ennecus and presented her proposal. She¡¯d arranged a catered lunch, because at some point Nicolus had told her the benefits of negotiating when everyone was enjoying a good meal.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to meet you, Mr. Ennecus,¡± she said, giving him a firm handshake. ¡°When I learned about your family¡¯s operation, I was quite impressed. I believe we can assist each other.¡±

    ¡°The pleasure is mutual, Mr. Nezzar. I¡¯m surprised I haven¡¯t heard of your family. It sounds like you¡¯ve made quite a name for yourself in Akana Praediar.¡±

    Mirian smiled. ¡°It¡¯s the land of opportunity. But it is getting crowded over there. There¡¯s a great deal of untapped potential here, I think.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard your proposal is quite generous,¡± he said, and glanced at his daughter briefly.

    They made small talk and ate while Cain reviewed the documents. Mirian only grazed lightly even though what she really wanted to do was start stuffing herself with sandwiches.

    ¡°Quite generous,¡± Cain repeated, having finished the review.

    ¡°Perhaps, but also well worth it to me. With your help, Nezzar Arcanics will reach new heights of reputation. Imagine what will be learned from studying a myrvite titan!¡±

    Cain looked skeptical. ¡°You really think you¡¯ve found one?¡±

    Mirian nodded to one of the men she¡¯d hired who wheeled forward the divination device. He took the cover off with a dramatic flourish, then stepped back. Mirian walked over and activated the device with a touch to a glyph. ¡°This is the basic function of the device,¡± she said. ¡°Buildings and major terrain features show up in gray. Myrvite souls are colored based on their energy, done through a proprietary glyph system.¡±

    The illusionary projection bloomed. There were hundreds of glowing dots on the map.

    ¡°These energy intensities can help identify the species. That¡¯s obviously a forest drake farm over there,¡± she said, pointing at one part of the map full of red dots.

    ¡°Amazing,¡± Cain¡¯s secretary whispered.

    ¡°However, the device can be tuned to pick up a wider range of energies. It doesn¡¯t look as fancy, and tuning the device in this way prevents it from picking up weaker myrvites. But we did some testing, and found¡­ this,¡± Mirian said, tapping several glyphs on the device. The gray areas disappeared, and what was left was a single bright violet dot.

    Cain furrowed his brow. ¡°What am I looking at?¡±

    ¡°We are in the center of this map. This dot is east and slightly south of us, a few hundred miles away. There can be only one thing giving out arcane energy like that.¡±

    Cain glanced at Calisto, then at one of his men, then back at Mirian. ¡°It¡¯s detecting a myrvite at over a hundred miles?¡±

    ¡°It is. And this is just the prototype. With your team¡¯s expertise in myrvite divination, I¡¯m sure we can do great things. And, after we bag a myrvite titan, we¡¯ll have both academies and investors lining up to throw gold at us.¡±

    Mirian could see the greed working its way through Cain. He had questions and concerns, she was sure. But her proposal was clear: she didn¡¯t even want their investment. Just their connections.

    ¡°You said you require a¡­ large team of myrvite hunters, and were willing to pay for the entire operation,¡± Cain said. ¡°How large a team do you need?¡±

    Mirian nodded at the second servant, who wheeled forward the case. ¡°I¡¯ve done some research on Apophagorga,¡± she said as the case stopped beside her. She handed the man a glyphkey and he opened a latch on it. Inside sparkled piles of doubloons. ¡°I need every myrvite hunter you can get me.¡±

    ***

    Mirian had some expertise in logistics from helping direct the Battle of Torrviol, so she didn¡¯t at all envy the quartermasters. Coordinating and organizing supplies for nearly fifty myrvite hunters would have had her pulling out her hair, but she could say one thing about Cain Ennecus: he knew how to quickly pull together an expedition. Over the course of the next five days, he quickly processed contracts for all of them and even organized the train cars they¡¯d need. Calisto helped secure several wagons. The days passed in a flurry, though Mirian kept glancing toward the horizon, wondering if she hadn¡¯t impaired Troytin quite enough.

    Moving a bunch of experienced spellcasters and rifle experts might have drawn a raised eyebrow in earlier cycles, but now, with Ibrahim beating at the doors of Alkazaria, large movements of money and material were happening all the time, and Mirian doubted much of Troytin¡¯s spy apparatus had a presence in Second Cairn.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    However, with Alkazaria under siege by Ibrahim, they¡¯d also need to hop off the train early and make their way overland, then north. They also had to check in with a military liaison before boarding the train. Mirian was pretty sure getting him to agree to anything involved at least a few bribes. Well, she had plenty of gold to spend.

    The head of the largest hunters group was named Annita, and Mirian quickly found her indispensable. She had several scars on her face, and wore an eyepatch. The woman radiated confidence, and apparently had high enough spellpower she¡¯d attempted the archmage trials, though she hadn¡¯t passed. Mirian assigned her as second in command. They departed on the 19th of Solem, and Mirian finished organizing her chain of command on the train.

    ¡°Wow, you¡¯re pretty good at this,¡± Calisto gushed as she watched her sketch out the organizing documents.

    ¡°Ah, my dad coached me in business, but he was an officer in the army before all this.¡±

    ¡°Well, you¡¯re a natural,¡± Calisto said, giving her a big smile.

    She was flirting, Mirian knew. Now¡¯s not the time, she thought. Besides, it would feel empty again. All she likes is this shell she sees. She doesn¡¯t know me.

    She used a spell to copy her documents, which brought more cooing from Calisto. When she was done, she rose from her seat. ¡°Sorry, I need to get these to the captains of each team and talk with them about tactics. Lots to do.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, of course,¡± Calisto said, looking crestfallen. The woman always wore her emotions. At least she was honest. Mirian found it preferable to all the practiced liars she¡¯d encountered. Of which I am now one, she thought bitterly. But it was necessary. I can¡¯t shy away from what needs to be done.

    ***

    If dragging an obelisk overland with Rostal had been annoying, it was nothing compared to moving an entire expedition weighed down with wagons. They moved quickly across the roads and scrublands at first, but then as they got into the northern wilderness, the carts would get stuck. Constantly. Eventually, Mirian ordered them to abandon the carts entirely and just use the wooly oxen pulling them as beasts of burden.

    This led to a great deal of grumbling, but it did speed up their pace considerably.

    Finally, they arrived at the spot around noon on the 27th.

    Nine days to get here. We only just made it in time. It¡¯s too long, she knew. But it¡¯s my first time. I¡¯ll find a way to speed things up. The number of things she¡¯d need to accomplish was starting to become onerous. Cutting out the attack on the Elder titan would make assembling the rest of the book trivial. But the First Prophet was assigned to kill a titan. The Ominian must have had a reason for assigning that task. I already know the beast can do soul magic. It¡¯s burrowed right on top of a leyline. Its magic must be a key to stopping all this. It could even be the cause!

    It was the best lead she had. And if she was wrong, it would still give her a powerful tool.

    Mirian issued orders for them to prepare for the beast at dawn the next day. From the data she¡¯d taken in previous cycles, she knew Apophagorga was inconsistent on when it emerged, but it didn¡¯t emerge earlier, and it would certainly emerge within a few hours of sunrise.

    As they finished establishing their camp and setting up the anti-myrvite wards, Annita approached her. She had the demeanor of a soldier. Mirian wondered if she¡¯d been in the army before she became a hunter.

    ¡°Wards should be up momentarily. The captains have their orders¡­ sir.¡±

    ¡°Very good,¡± Mirian said, and had to bite her lip so she didn¡¯t follow that with ¡®lieutenant,¡¯ which is what she had followed up that phrase with so many times in Torrviol.

    ¡°May I speak my mind?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Please,¡± she said.

    ¡°You don¡¯t seem like a kid,¡± she said. ¡°Certainly not an apprentice with connections.¡±

    Mirian contemplated her response. She already knew none of the hunters were using soul-bindings, and hadn¡¯t detected any runes used in the curse wands she was familiar with. She didn¡¯t know Annita well, but she got the sense she was someone who didn¡¯t like bullshit. ¡°You¡¯re right. But I can¡¯t exactly tell you the truth. The gold I¡¯m paying is real, though.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I wouldn¡¯t have come if I thought it wasn¡¯t. What can you tell me?¡±

    ¡°Not much. Only that we¡¯ll have a bit more spellpower than is recorded on paper.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± she said. ¡°Does this have anything to do with the siege down south? A lot of the hunters are worried we¡¯ll get cut off.¡±

    ¡°Eh, not really. But we won¡¯t get cut off. That, I can guarantee.¡±

    ***

    The predawn light was growing on the horizon when Mirian woke. By the time the hunters had assembled in the staging area, the sky had brightened so that the clouds¡¯ underbellies were burning pink and orange, and the rest of the sky was growing pale with the new light.

    Mirian stood before the arrayed hunters, casting her gaze out at them much like she had before assembled soldiers so many times. ¡°Today, we make history,¡± she said. ¡°We hunt a beast that has not been slain for an epoch, and when we bring it down, our names will go down in legend. Are you ready?¡±

    A cheer went up. As far as cheers went, she¡¯d heard better, but she¡¯d also heard far worse.

    ¡°Excellent! To your positions. Strike as soon as you see the flare.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s own position would be the hill that she had Rostal had first camped out on. She¡¯d positioned five hunting teams around the glowing mushroom trees where the beast would emerge, each with instructions to use different attack spells. Most of the riflemen were with her. She would primarily monitor, using divination and Viridian¡¯s old remote eye spell to observe which spells had the greatest effect. She also had an assistant who she could instruct to launch flares to quickly relay commands to the whole team.

    The anticipation made Mirian¡¯s palms sweaty. She double checked that her divination machine was working properly, flipped through her spellbook, then checked to see that the flares were primed and ready.

    Then she waited.

    The minutes turned to hours, and she began to feel doubt creeping in. Had she scared the beast off? Would it emerge the next day for some reason? The device still shows it beneath the ground. But what¡¯s it waiting for?

    Runners went out with a hot cooked meal for the teams. She knew from the battlefield that was always a morale booster. One of the hunting teams dealt with an overly aggressive scimitar lion, but it obviously hadn¡¯t been a problem. Mirian sat down on a log, and thought about spells she might want to use but hadn¡¯t had a chance to scribe yet. She pulled her ink set out of her pack and began doing so. One of the arcanist hunters by her stared in amazement. ¡°How are you doing that so fast?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Practice,¡± she said blandly.

    ¡°But you¡¯re not scribing the glyphs in order.¡±

    ¡°Saves time not switching out inks,¡± she said. ¡°You do all the static glyphs first. Flux glyphs last. Much faster, still no risk of pairing-stability issues.¡±

    The man continued to stare. ¡°Where¡¯s your reference manual?¡±

    Mirian sighed. ¡°It¡¯s invisible, obviously. Can you not distract me?¡± She¡¯d only practiced scribing Luspire¡¯s prismatic shield a few times since learning it.

    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the man muttered, though he continued to stare.

    She was almost done when the ground began to tremble. Her arcane sense tingled, just as it had. She set down her glyph pen and ripped out the incomplete page she¡¯d been working on, letting it catch fire. ¡°It¡¯s here,¡± she said.

    ¡°Is someone casting a spell?¡± the arcanist asked.

    ¡°No, that¡¯s the beast. Brace yourselves!¡± she called.

    Arcane geysers erupted around the spot they¡¯d surrounded, and the trees there toppled.

    ¡°Gods above,¡± Mirian¡¯s assistant gasped.

    Two colossal legs emerged from the ground, knocking over another tree, and Apophagorga began to climb up, seeming to phase through the ground. Its head turned back and forth, rows of red eyes taking in the tiny animals around it. Then it roared.

    Mirian locked eyes with it. We meet again, she thought, letting the sensation of her aura being scoured wash over her. ¡°Order the attack,¡± she commanded.

    The assistant, trembling, lit the first flare. There was the whistle of the rocket, then a bright orange light bloomed over the beast.

    The hunt begins.

 Chapter 150 - Apophagorga

    At first, the myrvite hunters seemed frozen. Even with the orange flare flickering bright above the myrvite titan, no one was taking action.

    ¡°Aim for the head. Fire!¡± Mirian snapped, and at last, the riflemen seemed to break from their daze. Their rifles cracked out, first in a volley, then in a chaotic chorus as the hillside echoed with gunfire and the music of sliding bolts and brass cartridges.

    Patches of black ichor erupted on Apophagorga¡¯s head as the high caliber bullets impacted. It let out a hiss, then turned its massive body to the side so that its thick shell faced them.

    Hearing the gunfire, the arcanists finally went into action. She saw the dazzle of lightning and fireballs streaming through the air.

    ¡°Switch fire to the front leg until it presents a better target! We have plenty of ammunition, and don¡¯t want to have to lug it back with us!¡± Mirian called out. She launched her remote eye out to examine the battle at closer range.

    The first thing that became apparent was that direct spells weren¡¯t having a small impact; they were having no impact at all. Apophagorga ignored them like so many biting insects. It had turned its attention to the casters who were bombarding it with fire spells and was now lumbering toward them, the doom doom doom of its footsteps shaking the ground. As it moved, it shot out bursts of arcane energy that intercepted the fire spells before they hit.

    Is it using counterspells as natural magic?

    Fortunately, the captain of the flame team had been paying attention, and that team ceased fire and began a running retreat into the trees. Mirian¡¯s arcane eye peered at it. The kinetics team had attempted to use force drill on the shell, but she couldn¡¯t even see a blemish.

    ¡°Switch all attack spells to indirect flame and kinetic-launched boulders. Aim for the fleshy bits, we¡¯re not getting through that shell.¡±

    The assistant hesitated.

    Mirian closed the eye she was using to look through her arcane eye. ¡°That¡¯s red, white in quick succession, then a green sparkler to indicate targeting.¡±

    ¡°Right, sorry sir!¡± he said, and loaded the next flares.

    As they whistled through the air, Mirian checked the divination equipment. Barely any readings. The spell resistance is just too high.

    Annoyed at the fireballs and rocks now peppering its side, Apophagorga had turned to chase one of the other teams, which in turn retreated as the flame team reemerged from the shelter of the trees. That team retreated, while Annita¡¯s team moved forward. Mirian caught sight of a boulder streaming through the air that cracked against the back leg of the beast, which must have been the elite hunter¡¯s spell.

    ¡°It¡¯s working!¡± the arcanist on the hill exclaimed. ¡°Who would have thought classic pack tactics would bring down something so large. It¡¯ll exhaust itself!¡±

    Closing her eyes, Mirian embraced her focus and pulled out Specter¡¯s curse wand. It wouldn¡¯t be enough to have her spells penetrate the resistance alone. She needed to bind the beast¡¯s soul. The nice thing about Second Cairn was they regularly killed myrvites, so she had seven fully charged soul repositories. Her limit had only been how many repositories she could make. She started casting.

    Apophagorga was clearly annoyed. It started stomping the ground, sending out tremors. A small landslide of loose dirt cascaded down the hill. It looked at Mirian¡ªlooked¡ªright at her, red eyes glowing.

    It knows, she thought with total certainty.

    The bonds she¡¯d attempted to layer over its soul snapped, and the myrvite titan whirled again and charged the flame team, and this time, when they hid in the trees, it didn¡¯t stop. Its tendrils grabbed and uprooted the tree, sucking the souls out of some of them, simply discarding others. The beast¡¯s strength was incredible, more than just a sum of muscle and size. With its body it slammed into another grove of taller trees, sending them toppling.

    The arcanist who had been cheering a moment ago got wide-eyed. ¡°Oh shit,¡± he said.

    A tree crushed one sorcerer. Then the titan reached out with a tentacle and snatched another as she ran, then a second, then a third, feeding them all into its mouth. The team finally remembered to scatter, but as they did, Apophagorga let out a roar. Mirian could feel her aura being abraded from hundreds of meters away. For the arcanists right next to it, the feeling must have been crippling. Two of them fell to their knees, while the others stumbled on. The two that fell were snatched up and devoured.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Mirian said eloquently. Flame team was gone. There were three survivors, but there was no way in the five hells they were going to stop running.

    ¡°Sir, we don¡¯t have a clear shot anymore,¡± one of the gunners reported. As if she couldn¡¯t see that.

    ¡°Hold fire until you do.¡±

    She kept observing with her arcane eye. The beast had gone out of range of most of the casters. The death and rout of flame team had caused several other hunters to start retreating without orders. There was really nothing to be done about that. She could order a renewed assault, but she knew too well that most soldiers would not follow suicidal orders. Myrvite hunters would be no different.

    Mirian needed a way to rally them. Fortunately¡ªor unfortunately, Apophagorga had set its sights on her hill.

    ¡°Ready the orange and green flare. We¡¯ll indicate a renewed assault as it draws into range. Rifles, aim for the eyes and mouth.¡±

    ¡°Sir¡­ we may wish to retreat,¡± one of the hunters said.

    ¡°We¡¯re not outrunning that thing. Scattering into the wilderness just spreads everyone out so smaller myrvites can attack them. Hold steady. More is at stake then you realize.¡± She could tell that fear was still winning out, but the rifles started cracking out again as the titan knocked over more trees on its way to the hill. It was ducking its head so the shell covered most of it. With her arcane eye, she could see that the wounds were regenerating. As the black ichor bubbled out, the flesh seemed to move like a swarm of insects before scabbing over with what she could only describe as crystalline tar.

    Fire might disrupt the healing process, as it often does.

    ¡°Launch the flares,¡± she ordered, then cast another curse. Again, the binding snapped. Its soul-flow was simply too fast; it was like trying to make a dam out of sand while standing in the rapids. No curses. Spell piercing, then.

    She noticed another phenomenon as she prepared. Part of Apophagorga seemed to vanish as it moved, then reappeared. As it did that, some of the boulders that should have hit it missed entirely. It¡¯s still using the fourth dimension. It exists there. But how to take advantage of that? She also noticed it had stopped snuffing out the spells hitting it. She wondered why it had stopped.

    She¡¯d have to figure it out. Until then, it was time to hit the myrvite titan as hard as she could. Mirian drew from her soul repository and pulled as much auric mana as she could, pouring it through a triple-conduit fire wand modeled after the one she¡¯d seen in the Allard estate. She aimed it right at its face.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°Cover your eyes,¡± she said, casting a brief veil spell on herself.

    The greater coruscating beam of fire was designed not just to burn, but to blind the beast. As the titan approached the hillside, she unleashed.

    ¡°God¡¯s fucking blood!¡± the arcanist said, shielding his eyes a bit too late, while there were calls of shock from the rifle team. Maybe they hadn¡¯t heard her.

    Apophagorga roared, this time in pain and not as a weapon. The growl sounded like a cauldron bubbling in an echoey cave. She took in a deep breath and cast again, but this time, the beast did counter it, though the soul-sheathe on the spell seemed to prevent the spell from being nullified entirely. She could make out bubbles and seared tissue where she¡¯d hit it, but it wasn¡¯t slowing down.

    ¡°Three orange flares. We need a renewed assault. Logistics, evacuate down the hill southwest, rifles, sacrifice accuracy for suppressing fire!¡± Mirian cast again, and again, but the beast kept coming. Behind her, the noncombatant personnel were fleeing down the hill, having abandoned basically everything. It¡¯s not after them, though. It didn¡¯t like that curse attempt it wants me.

    ¡°Alright, everyone break off, full retreat! I¡¯m going to lure it back towards the other teams. Retake the hill if it follows. Go!¡±

    The rifle team and arcanists didn¡¯t need to be told twice. One woman kicked over an ammunition crate in her hurry to turn and run. Mirian pulled out her levitation wand.

    Apophagorga wasn¡¯t quite as tall as the hill, but it was a close call. It used its tentacles in coordination with its colossal legs to pull itself up the rock face, keeping its face tucked down so the hump on its shell protected it. The soul energy sheathe protects spells from its counterspell. I wonder if¡­

    There was only one way to find out. Mirian surrounded the directed antigravity field the levitation wand put out with soul energy. The repository began to drain rapidly, but if she was right, it would give her the ability to move without being knocked out of the air. She dashed northeast toward the clearing where the beast had emerged, narrowly dodging a tentacle as it smashed the place where she¡¯d been standing a few seconds ago. Sure enough, Apophagorga sent out a dark beam of whatever it was using. Mirian felt a jolt and dropped ten feet in a matter of seconds, but recovered.

    She landed, then shot another beam of fire. ¡°Come here you big brute!¡± she shouted. She held her fire beam longer this time, sending a scouring line across one of its trunk legs. Again Apophagorga roared, slamming its shell into the hillside causing part of the slope to collapse, then phased out of sight.

    Shit, Mirian thought. She started flying immediately, not using the soul energy, but instead just using bursts of levitation. She caught sight of a shadow forming behind her and sped left. Two tentacles slammed down with such force they must have been magically enhanced. A cloud of dirt erupted and the rock beneath was cracked. Mirian was right next to the beast now, choking on dust. As a tentacle came out to snatch her, she summoned Eclipse and embraced the Lone Pine, sundering her disguise bindings. She slashed at the approaching tendril, but it was like hitting a bog lion with a knitting needle. The tendril smashed into her, knocking the wind out of her and sending her flying.

    She slid across the ground. Everything hurt.

    She blinked back spots, grit her teeth, and flushed her body with soul energy, first haphazardly, then with more purpose as her soul-sight found her broken ribs and the scoured flesh on her back. Her wands had gone flying, so she cast detect arcane energy. Whirling, she spotted the wands on the ground and used raw magic to telekinetically lift them both to her hands as she dematerialized Eclipse.

    Apophagorga glared at her. It had swatted her like a roach, but seemed annoyed the roach hadn¡¯t been squashed. It advanced again, maw open. Mirian sent a beam right into it. The titan made a gurgling sound and ducked its head under its shell.

    As it did, she saw boulders and fireballs coming from the hunters who had remained. Annita¡¯s group was still intact, and they were going after one of the legs.

    The beast didn¡¯t hide for long, though. It suddenly burst forward, pounding forward faster than she¡¯d seen it move before. This time, three tendrils grabbed her at once, the spines on them piercing her, and then tearing¡ª

    ***

    A great void, and a form standing before it. The Ominian. They floated in the void, watching that field of stars. The dozens of needles in Their flesh glistened in the sunlight. In the distance, two dark spheres of different sizes. A feeling in her blood. Despair. Fear. One of the needles erupted from Their flesh glowing orange and violet, and vanishing. In the distance, a great fire spread across the stars.

    ***

    Mirian woke with a scream still on her lips. ¡°¡ªAHHHshit, sorry Lily, really sorry, couldn¡¯t help it, I¡¯m fine, everything¡¯s normal, please don¡¯t worry. Whew. No, I¡¯m fine roomie, it¡¯s all good. Sorry. Whew. Just¡­ give me a moment.¡± She sat there, taking deep breaths. Tears welled in her eyes unbidden, and she blinked them back.

    ¡°Mirian, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re okay,¡± Lily said softly. She came to sit next to her on the bed and put an arm around her.

    She exhaled hard. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re right. But I have to keep going. The only way forward is through.¡±

    ***

    Down in Cairnmouth, Mirian tried something she hadn¡¯t tried before: she talked to Ravatha about hiring an assassin. The price, she found, was surprisingly cheap: 500 doubloons to kill Troytin. A bargain, she thought. He might have seized key positions in the conspiracy, but authority took time to spread. The Syndicate had never heard of him, so they had no problem snuffing him.

    With that done, she got to reassembling her attack force.

    As she worked on forging seals for letters of credit and reassembling her divination equipment, she considered what she learned from the first fight.

    The coating of soul energy on a spell pierces spell resistance. But it also prevented the beast from using its spell-nullifying power. That wouldn¡¯t have worked against a counterspell. Is Apophagorga projecting its own soul energy?

    She thought back to its last charge forward, and its enhanced blows that had sundered stone. She¡¯d checked with Viridian before she left Torrviol, and from what they could estimate using myrvite strength-size tables, even a beast that size couldn¡¯t sunder stone like she¡¯d seen.

    Its soul magic must be instinctual, like the magic of any myrvite. The forms of a dervish are just modifying soul flow and resonance¡ªperhaps it naturally can do something like that.

    She paused her work and sat back in her chair, looking around the makeshift workshop, but not really seeing it. She was visualizing the battle. At a certain point, it stopped nullifying spells. Doing that must be energy intensive¡ªit would be drawing from its own soul. Its soul is massive, to the point where the curse bindings couldn¡¯t even touch it. But it¡¯s a living thing. It can¡¯t drain too much of its own soul. It has limits.

    Dealing with the beast¡¯s dimensional travel would be more difficult. She started working on a model that would help her conceptualize how it was moving. There had to be a way to constrain and stop it.

    Just before she left for Second Cairn, Mirian received a delivery package from a nice young man who didn¡¯t at all look like a criminal. In it was a severed ear. That was gross, but it was also fantastic news. Don¡¯t have to worry about that idiot Akanan this cycle, she thought. I can accelerate my plans.

    ***

    This time, they arrived on the 25th of Solem, which gave them plenty of time to prepare. Mirian had also hired on a mercenary contractor, bringing twenty additional rifles into the mix. She had the arcanists help lift stones into place to create barriers that each team could retreat through. It wouldn¡¯t stop the myrvite titan, but it would slow it down while the other teams harassed it.

    She¡¯d also bought extra rifles to hand out to battlemages who ran out of mana too quickly.

    ¡°I¡¯m, uh, not trained on rifles,¡± one of them protested.

    ¡°Point it at the creature and pull this thingy,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Believe me, you don¡¯t need to know how to aim to hit it.¡±

    The mage gave her a quizzical look. She ignored him and moved on, ordering contingencies. If the beast was moving about in four dimensions, she thought there was still a way to pin it down. ¡°The most critical flare to watch for is orange-blue at your station. If you see that you must advance along with the fourth hunter team and focus fire on the legs. Captain, you have the document?¡±

    The captain patted a scroll case at his breast. ¡°Yes, sir,¡± he said.

    ¡°Good. You¡¯re also in charge of wards on the northeast side. Scimitar lions have been spotted in the area, so don¡¯t go walking around alone.¡±

    Once again, Annita approached her at the command station.

    ¡°Correct,¡± Mirian said, as she opened her mouth.

    ¡°You know what I¡¯m going to say?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Mirian said blandly. ¡°And you¡¯re right. But I can¡¯t tell you more. Perhaps after we slay the beast. It emerges tomorrow.¡±

    Annita gave her a look she was now all too familiar with, the look that had a thousand questions beneath the surface. But she didn¡¯t ask them.

    The next morning, near dawn, the ground began to tremble, and Mirian steeled herself for the fight.

    Round two, she thought.

 Chapter 151 - Apophagorga Redux

    As soon as the beast emerged, Mirian sent up the flare. To her dismay, Apophagorga didn¡¯t react like it had the first time.

    After a roar of annoyance, it charged the first team. No amount of rifle fire or spells could get it to turn around, even after she launched flares ordering an advance of the other teams. Instead, the beast kept going, pushing through the barrier rocks and ripping up the trees. This time, the team scattered in all directions before it reached them, but the titan still devoured one of the arcanists. The others were ordered to loop back around and join other teams, but Mirian doubted they would. Something about being charged by a 15-meter tall myrvite had a way of disarming people¡¯s courage.

    Even with the advance, the beast¡¯s charge had brought it out of range of everyone but the specialized riflemen who could still snipe at it. It made straight for the hill again.

    But why? We¡¯ve barely scratched it from our position. She ordered the retreat anyways.

    As she met its red glowing eyes, she felt a sense of familiarity. Is it my soul you¡¯re hungry for? Guess I¡¯ll be bait again. This time, she had two extra soul repositories, and had practiced using soul energy while levitating and casting. She shot into the air and started casting greater coruscating beam every chance she could, chugging two mana elixirs as she darted around the clearing to bring the beast into range. Apophagorga tried its phasing charge again, but she increased her height so that she was well above it.

    With the flare-assistant running for his life, Mirian used enhanced light spells to send her signals, ordering the pincer strikes she thought might prevent it from phasing.

    This time, Apophagorga paused its chase in the clearing, then cocked its head. Then it charged the second team¡¯s position, ignoring Mirian even as she flew back down, sending searing beams into its legs. Her mana was rapidly depleting, but she didn¡¯t relent.

    Second team made their way through a rocky outcropping, but the myrvite titan phased through it like it was wading through water. Four more hunters died.

    One by one, it repeated the tactic, relentlessly charging each team until it was completely scattered and partially eaten. Annita¡¯s hurled boulders and fireballs did nothing to slow it; she was stuffed into the beast¡¯s maw. Mirian drank her third mana elixir, flying forward to try to gouge out its eyes with flames.

    Apophagorga¡¯s hide was blistered and bubbling with its black blood, but as it finished scattering the last team, it turned to face Mirian. Then it phased into the ground, wiggling until its legs were beneath it and face was burrowed so only its shell was showing.

    And it waited.

    Mirian landed to conserve mana. She picked up a discarded rifle and took a few pot shots at it. The bullets clanged harmlessly against the shell. She looked around for the surviving hunters. None of them had regrouped.

    She threw the rifle down in disgust. ¡°So you¡¯re smart, then?¡± she told it. Something else was off. Is it like Viridian in that small changes lead it to radically different behaviors? There was another possibility, one she didn¡¯t like at all. How connected is an Elder beast to the Gods?

    Her auric mana was too thin. She simply couldn¡¯t overpower the beast alone. Mirian sat down in the dirt and embraced her focus, examining its soul.

    It was like watching a storm cloud pass across the scrublands. The size and power had an unfathomability to it. Its soul moved in the same way that thunderheads grew and churned in the sky.

    Eventually, the beast lifted its head from the ground, red eyes glaring out from under the humped shell. Mirian considered sending another beam of fire at it out of spite, but thought better. It had apparently spent at least a month hunkered deep underground. She didn¡¯t think she could out-wait it.

    ¡°Fine, you win this round,¡± she said, and flew south to contemplate her defeat and consider what she needed to do differently. She felt a pang of guilt for abandoning the hunters she hired, but they would be dead in six days anyways. Besides, most of them were experienced enough in the wilderness they could make their way back without problems. Despite her warnings, there actually weren¡¯t all that many myrvites in the area.

    ***

    Mirian convinced Torres to sabotage Troyitin¡¯s spell engines again, then also hired an assassin. She didn¡¯t think that either attempt would succeed since the Akanan was usually alert to her most recent tactics, but hoped those attempts plus all the other annoyances she was throwing at him would impede him until he flew off in the Akanan airship prior to the invasion.

    This time, she had them set up a camp around the derelict obelisk and abandon the wagons early, speeding up their journey over the rough terrain considerably.

    They gathered at the spot on the 25th of Solem, this time having assembled an even larger group of myrvite hunters. In addition to the small bump in numbers from hiring a few small groups, she added in a small team that specialized in using high-powered rifles to take out extreme myrvites like manticores and larger chimeras. She tweaked her tactics and distributed even more detailed contingency plans, warning the hunters that the titan would charge them at some point. This brought uncomfortable glances around the group, especially since she¡¯d shared more details with them about its size. Better that they¡¯re prepared, she thought.

    Then, just before midnight on the 27th, she awoke to the ground trembling. Shit! she thought. It¡¯s too early!

    She burst out of her tent, calling, ¡°To arms! To arms!¡±

    Her arcane sense began tingling. She looked out to the open area. The mushroom trees were still glowing. But the tremors¡­

    The hunters were blearily emerging from the tents. Mirian readied a flare, then froze. Something¡¯s wrong, she realized.

    But by then, it was too late.

    Apophagorga¡¯s huge leg emerged from the ground and slammed the hillside right next to her, knocking Mirian off her feet. Another leg slammed down to her left. Which means the head¡­

    She had time to embrace Lone Pine, just so it wouldn¡¯t hurt so much.

    ***

    She saw the Ominian surveying the world again, gazing out at the horizon. Again, the words came to her: This place¡­This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    This place¡­

    She wanted to ask Them so many questions. How do I defeat the titan? How do I remove another time traveler that¡¯s gone berserk? Why did you choose the other Prophets? How do I stop the world ending?

    But there was only silence, only Their gaze, so tender and intense, across the world. Carefully, the Ominian walked across the land, crust of black ichor on Their shoulders where the knives in Their flesh had once been.

    This place¡­

    ***

    She bit her tongue on waking, eyes squeezed shut, body trembling. In some ways, dying had gotten a lot easier. In other ways, it hadn¡¯t. The memory of pain was so visceral.

    Mirian rented a private room in one of the bathhouses and spent the morning soaking in a tub in total silence. The conclusion was clear. She couldn¡¯t deny it.

    Apophagorga can learn lessons from other timelines.

    It explained a lot. It explained why the beast kept emerging on the 28th. For over a hundred cycles, the leyline disruption from the Divine Monument rupturing would have passed right through that area, so it had learned to crawl the surface. Then, it had quickly learned how to counter the tactics Mirian had in mind, willing to take incredible punishment to its body in the short term to avoid being exhausted in the long term. She¡¯d heard of leviathans being clever like that too, so that ships hunting them were tricked and smashed to pieces.

    Only the Elder Gods had mastered the magic of time, but it made sense that their greatest beasts had some dominion over that magic.

    It never can be easy, can it? No wonder the First Prophet had such issues with a titan. If only more records of that age had survived.

    She needed time to think.

    I¡¯ll need to come at the beast with overwhelming force, but in a way that it can¡¯t anticipate. Annita was strong enough to hurt it. Most of the myrvite hunters can hardly scratch it, though. The rifles worked well, but they¡¯re too small. I can¡¯t imagine getting artillery through that terrain, but that¡¯s the kind of caliber I need.

    So where do I get a bunch of high-powered spellcasters and giant mobile guns¡­?

    A realization struck her. She stood up from the bath, splashing water everywhere, in such a rush she nearly forgot to dress. Not that it would matter much, she thought as she threw on her clothes. Everyone who saw would have no idea in the next loop.

    In her quest for relaxation, Mirian hadn¡¯t gone through her normal morning routines. That meant Specter, disguised as Adria, was still alive and probably awake by now. She headed over to the student crafting center to work on a tracker. First she had to make the soul repository and grab a few smaller myrvite souls. Then her divination device could use the tri-scribing technique to incorporate a rune needed for detect life. Combined with a specifically tuned heat detection spell that mostly picked up only humans, she could have the device only output a reading of living things with a weak soul output that also matched the heat profile. The only two people in Torrviol that would match that profile would be her if her mythril amulet was out¡ªand Specter.

    Range would be an issue because the heat detection spell had a smaller radius than the detect life spell, but she¡¯d made the device small enough it could fit in her bag.

    Mirian retrieved the levitation wand and killed the bog lion, then got to work on filling out her spellbook. Specter was trained in counter-espionage, and would eventually pick up a tail. But she¡¯s only prepared for the usual things.

    Viridian¡¯s remote eye spell was quite complex already, but it had a problem: it was very obvious when it was floating around. Due to the nature of the spell, it would always have a telltale glow; the mental component interacting with the soul caused some of the mana that was inefficiently lost to transform into light. The communication between the spell and the caster went both ways. Also, the eye couldn¡¯t take in sound. The ¡®sound¡¯ problem was easily fixed, and while that would cause the spell to also output a humming noise, she could lower the frequency so it was too low to be picked up by the human ear.

    Her work on camouflage spells offered a solution to the excess light problem. She could create a perfect sphere around the ¡°eye¡± portion. It required significantly fewer glyphs than her improved camouflage spell. Obviously, the mana cost was now significantly higher, but it meant she could snoop around without anyone knowing unless they were actively divining for low frequency sounds or arcane energy anomalies. Especially sensitive casters like Luspire would no doubt feel their arcane sense tingling, but Specter was an expert in spycraft and paranoia, not spells.

    Once her spellbook was a bit more filled out, she began searching about, though she already had a pretty good idea of where Specter would be. ¡°Adria¡± had spent a great deal of time inside Torrian Tower. She knew that Archmage Luspire¡¯s early days in the cycle looked different without her interference. The wards in the tower would make spying on her inside there difficult, but she¡¯d have no issues once she left. Mirian camped out in one of the study rooms by the plaza and set her divination device by the table.

    She caught sight of the spy leaving the tower exactly one hour after noon and marked down the time. Then she launched her newly developed hidden remote spy.

    Mirian tracked Specter with one eye, using the other to navigate back down to the street level where she could follow nearby so that the spy didn¡¯t walk outside the viable range of the spell. Specter was still doing that trick where she shifted her multi-part illusion disguise one piece at a time, but Mirian knew to look for it.

    She¡¯d expected her to go meet with her spies, but instead, Specter made her way to one of the nicer restaurants and sat down with a group of local arcanists. Mirian recognized them as running several of the shops around town, though she couldn¡¯t remember their names. She brought the eye in to watch Specter specifically.

    Adria was dead; she couldn¡¯t learn how to impersonate her. But she could learn how to impersonate her impersonator.

    ***

    On the night of the 5th, Mirian went down Specter¡¯s secret passage and killed her, then took the files with notes and letters about Adria. Briefly, she reflected on how nonchalant she¡¯d become about the whole thing. Sometimes, it worried her. Sometimes, she thought she wasn¡¯t going far enough. She left Magistrate Ada her usual notes about the Akanan agents, then shifted to her Micael disguise. In the early morning, she stole Mayor Wolden¡¯s ingots and left for Cairnmouth.

    Her next work was more delicate. She got an apartment in the New District of the city because that was the one closest to Fort Aegrimere.

    Fort Aegrimere was a star-fort. The defenses had rapidly gained in popularity during the Unification War when people realized how vulnerable even the thickest castle walls were to earthshaker artillery. And just normal artillery, for that matter. The wide earthen walls were splayed out like the blades of a diamond. Decades ago, the fortress would have dominated the surrounding landscape from the hill it rested on, but Cairnmouth had grown around it like so much ivy until houses and streets wrapped around the fort¡¯s feet.

    This was good news for the economic development of Cairnmouth. This was bad news for the security of operations.

    Mirian¡¯s first task was to figure out what sort of ward schemes they had. This was painstaking, but by now, she was quite good at it. The fort¡¯s detection machines and anti-divination wards were more complex than the Temple of the Four, but they also didn¡¯t incorporate runes.

    The fort also wasn¡¯t on high alert, though Ibrahim¡¯s attack on Alkazaria had stirred it into more of a state of readiness than it would have been at peace. Mirian used her hidden remote spy to watch the patrols and maintenance teams. General Hanaran had mentioned that most ward schemes got checked monthly, so at nights, Mirian started venturing out to disable wards along the southeast section piece by piece, starting with the ones she¡¯d already seen the patrols check.

    Over several days, she created a corridor that she could move through without detection; improved camouflage got her onto one of the earthen walls without being seen, while shape earth helped her make a little burrow. Taking a page out of Lecne¡¯s book, she used practical camouflage, since an illusion engine or wards would easily be detected. Mirian put adhesive on the outside of a small hatch, then covered it with dirt and placed it over the burrow. The resulting door blended in with the rest of the sloped wall when the hatch was closed.

    That gave her a position to cast hidden remote spy.

    She brought a few cushions into the burrow to make it cozy. Then, she began to watch and take notes.

 Chapter 152 - Fort Aegrimere

    With her hidden remote spy spell, Mirian quickly determined that, once past the walls, Fort Aegrimere didn¡¯t have too much divination to watch for. There were, however, state-of-the-art glyphkey locks on almost every door, even the barracks. The supply depots had two doors and a security checkpoint.

    Specter¡¯s notes in hand, Mirian began to look for the names of people Adria knew.

    At first, she had little luck. The fort was full of strange faces, or people she vaguely recognized but couldn¡¯t say anything about. Then, she recognized General Hanaran moving across the central courtyard, and had her eye follow her around. That led her to one of the meeting rooms.

    Mirian expected a ward alarm to go off, or an arcanist to start looking around suspiciously. Surely they had something to ward against divination in a command room!

    Instead, Hanaran¡¯s command staff sat down at the table. She already recognized them. The group she didn¡¯t know was led by Commander Hirte, one of Adria¡¯s old friends. Both of them had attended the Great Cairn Academy, and they¡¯d exchanged several letters to keep in contact. The Baracuel Army had merged from several different allied forces during the Unification War. Hanaran had mentioned that there was a quirk in the command structure that made Hirte her equal while they were both at Fort Aegrimere, so they both sat down across from each other as equals at¡ªper military code¡ªan oval table.

    General Hanaran began the meeting. ¡°Any revisions to the agenda? No? Then let us begin. Colonel Marquel, have we received the communications from our garrisons at Urubandar?¡±

    ¡°No, sir,¡±

    The general let out an annoyed grunt. ¡°Makes that item quick.¡±

    A man wearing a navy uniform¡ªprobably a liaison¡ªsaid, ¡°The transport ships are on their way down with heavy escort. Either they put pressure on this upstart warlord to withdraw, or if the situation is dire, we retrieve the garrison and get reinforcements.¡±

    ¡°The latter is a problem. If we withdraw, that leaves the Akanans to garrison the city alone. That steps on one of the treaties. Parliament won¡¯t be happy,¡± a colonel said.

    ¡°The Akanans should be sending us reinforcements soon,¡± another woman said. Except those reinforcements will be redirected to invade Torrviol in eight days, Mirian knew.

    ¡°It¡¯s insufficient,¡± Commander Hirte said. ¡°All lines of communication to the border have been cut. We have to assume the worst.¡±

    Hanaran scoffed. ¡°Dawn¡¯s Peace was on the verge of annihilation a month ago. It is simply impossible that they defeated the entire Rambalda garrison, took all the border forts, and have an army that size outside of Alkazaria. Ibrahim¡¯s bypassing the larger forces and using our lack of information to exaggerate his forces sizes and capabilities. It¡¯s a desperate move looking to draw concessions.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re sure it¡¯s Ibrahim Kalishah still leading Dawn¡¯s Peace?¡± Hirte asked.

    ¡°The man¡¯s a notorious lamprey. Once his teeth are dug into something¡ª¡±

    ¡°Yes, I understand the metaphor,¡± Hirte said. ¡°What I meant to ask was do we have actual intelligence on this matter?¡±

    Hanaran shrugged. ¡°Would you trust it?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Hirte admitted. ¡°He seized the rail line, General. Got to the city without a single signal flare going off. I don¡¯t care how much the Deeps deny it, we have been infiltrated.¡±

    ¡°There are protocols to unmask traitors and spies,¡± one of the colonels said.

    The secretary taking notes said, ¡°Should the minutes reflect a change of topic, or are we still on the second agenda item?¡±

    Hirte waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Second item. No need to record an idle thought.¡±

    The meeting continued to stray, though. Mirian could tell from the tension in General Hanaran¡¯s shoulders that she was far more worried than she was letting on. She always had put on a brave face.

    In the end, they made the decision Mirian assumed was inevitable given the current conditions. Hanaran said, ¡°Let the record show the command staff has decided to confirm General Corrmier¡¯s orders. My division will reinforce Alkazaria.¡±

    ¡°And the last agenda item?¡± the secretary asked.

    The room grew quiet. Hanaran said, voice low, ¡°I don¡¯t like it. Some of them are our soldiers. Morale would plummet. I don¡¯t even want to guess the effect it would have on force cohesion.¡±

    Hirte looked grim. ¡°We have to be prepared. I don¡¯t like it either. But if that¡¯s how our enemy did it¡ªwe have to be ready.¡±

    The command team kept talking around the issue, so Mirian brought her hidden remote spy gaze towards the sheet of paper in front of Hirte. Her eyes widened as she read it.

    <blockquote>

    Item 4: Proposal for the mass detainment of all citizens of Persaman origin and deputization of emergency defense militias along the plausible route of enemy advance, per the Law of Emergency and Last Resort

    </blockquote>

    Several things struck Mirian all at once.

    One was that there was no official census category for ¡®Persaman origin,¡¯ so the implementation of such an order would be a mad heretic hunt. Plenty of people, especially from east Baracuel, had darker complexions that could easily be interpreted as Persaman. Two was that, based on their discussions of contingencies earlier, they were clearly anticipating everything from Cairnmouth to Madinahr as a ¡®plausible route of enemy advance.¡¯

    The third was that she¡¯d never heard of the Law of Emergency and Last Resort in her civics class. It may not have been my best class, but I did study quite a bit. And that seems like one of those important laws they would have mentioned. A law authorizing the mass imprisonment of citizens without trial?

    The command staff decided not to implement item four immediately, but agreed it would go into effect if Alkazaria fell. The meeting came to a close as Hanaran¡¯s staff left to prepare the division to ship out.

    With her mana running low from needing to project such a complex spell so far, Mirian stopped channeling.

    Hanaran¡¯s division hasn¡¯t been moving south on a consistent day. That¡¯s either Ibrahim¡¯s influence or Troytin¡¯s.

    Mirian had been ignoring Ibrahim because he hadn¡¯t been in her way and Troytin was the more aggressive, more proximate threat. However, that was going to have to change. If Alkazaria fell, Baracuel was going to tear itself apart. He wasn¡¯t leaving her much choice. If he continued to push, it would disrupt everything she was trying to do.

    She¡¯d stayed away from Alkazaria, but one thing was clear: Ibrahim was iterating on his battles. An introduction of chaos would stymie his efforts to track changes in the timeline just as it had Troytin. On the other hand, maybe he can be  reasoned with, she thought. Though, from talking to Rostal, Ibrahim didn¡¯t sound like someone who was moved by anyone but himself.

    But perhaps the time loop has changed him. After all, I changed. I used to be¡­

    Mirian shuddered. She had been weak, but she had also been kind. She¡¯d felt for people. Now, she¡¯d built walls in her mind, trenches and fortifications made out of rationalizations and emotional distance.

    Once I get through this, once I¡¯ve recovered my position¡­ I can let myself feel again. I¡¯m still me inside. I just need to push through this part of the crisis. Then, maybe I can make Ibrahim see reason, and we can work together to unite Persama and Baracuel, and then we can spread the call for collaboration and research far and wide. Together, we can figure this out. Together¡­You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    She wanted to believe that all. She just wasn¡¯t sure she did. The weight of it all was crushing her, bit by bit.

    Well, nothing for it, she thought.

    ***

    Three days later, she¡¯d procured an army uniform through the Syndicates and used bindings to disguise herself again, making herself look like one of the maintenance artificers she¡¯d seen moving around the fort. She used her camouflage spell to safely levitate herself through her de-warded corridor. Once she was inside Fort Aegrimere, she found an alley behind a building and dropped the spell. Then she headed straight for her prize.

    The hanger was impossible to miss. The army had carved one of the inner ¡°star¡± fortifications up, creating a large sloped structure. She already knew from Troytin that there was a way to authorize launches to pursue dangerous fugitives or for military operations. She needed to figure out how that all worked.

    A guard stopped her immediately at the entrance. ¡°Halt,¡± he said. ¡°You¡¯re not authorized to be in this area.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not?¡± Mirian said, acting confused. ¡°Colonel Marquel said I was to report¡­ except I think I¡¯ve screwed it all up. I was told to go to the Secretary of Personnel, only the office was closed. So I was supposed to pick something up, only I don¡¯t know what, and even if I did, I couldn¡¯t have.¡±

    The guard looked at her like she was stupid, which was a promising reaction. ¡°Personnel isn¡¯t closed.¡±

    ¡°Fourth building from the right of the corner of the north star, right? I tried the door and¡ª¡±

    ¡°Fifth building,¡± the guard said.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Oh well that explains it. Sorry, I¡¯m Micael, they rushed me up here from training because of the crisis, wanted the veteran artificers up front since they¡¯re not¡­ it¡¯s a bit over my head. So how does this all work?¡±

    ¡°You go pick up your glyphkey and papers from Personnel and stop bothering me. Go talk to your superior.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t assigned¡­ or rather, I was assigned, but now they¡¯re being shipped out to Alkazaria¡­¡±

    ¡°Not my problem.¡±

    Mirian sighed. ¡°Well, thank you, you¡¯ve been very helpful,¡± she said.

    ¡°Oh fuck off. I¡¯m just doing my duty. Go learn yours.¡±

    Having obtained the security protocol, Mirian left, heading in the direction of the Office of Personnel. She had no interest in actually going there, though, so she walked right by it and circled back around to head to the mess hall.

    After grabbing some food, she asked a random soldier who had already sat down, ¡°I¡¯m new to the fort, where does the maintenance crowd usually gather?¡±

    The soldier rolled his eyes and jerked his head toward one of the tables.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said.

    There were only three people sitting down, quietly talking.

    ¡°¡­suspended all leave, and heard they¡¯re adding an hour to each shift. With no compensatory pay,¡± one woman said.

    A man sitting across from her responded. ¡°Gueneve, there¡¯s a Persaman army battering down the doors. What did you expect?¡±

    ¡°That the defense of the country is worth paying for,¡± she said bitterly.

    Good target, Mirian thought. ¡°Hey, I heard we¡¯re all in the same boat,¡± she said and sat down next to them.

    ¡°The one with all the leaks?¡± Gueneve said.

    ¡°Apparently. Only it seems to leak paperwork. Who knows how long it¡¯ll take to get my situation sorted out. Micael, by the way,¡± she said, holding out her hand.

    When no one took it, she laughed awkwardly.

    ¡°Who exactly are you?¡± the man said.

    ¡°Micael. Just got shipped up to work on the airships, only some of the paperwork got lost so you might not see me in the hanger any time soon.¡±

    ¡°They ¡®brought you up¡¯?¡± the man said.

    ¡°Yeah, I was training at Bastion Point in artillery and support artifice, working on modernizing artillery and they sent me up here. Before that I apprenticed under Professor Torres¡ª¡±

    The woman sitting next to Gueneve stood abruptly. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re one of those,¡± she said, and left without even clearing her plate.

    ¡°Five hells, I seem to be great at pissing people off today,¡± Mirian said. ¡°What did I do?¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re the precocious prodigy type, you¡¯d do well to learn how to keep your mouth shut and learn,¡± Gueneve said. ¡°No one likes being told their business by a junior.¡±

    Hmm, so Torres was liked by the brass, but not her colleagues, she realized. That made sense. She would have upstaged them all when she was down here. ¡°Yeah, sorry I guess. I¡¯m still trying to figure out how things work here. But I guess I¡¯ve got some time to kill until my credentials get squared away. I¡¯m sorry, I haven¡¯t read the doctrinal documents on airships yet.¡±

    Gueneve snorted. ¡°No one¡¯s read them, especially not the brass.¡±

    ¡°You have, though?¡±

    The man said, ¡°She reads everything.¡±

    ¡°So why aren¡¯t we sending them with Hanaran¡¯s division?¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t have the range to make it to Alkazaria without running out of fuel. And there¡¯s no refueling stations along the route, so either they¡¯d be scrounging fossilized myrvite from villages or they¡¯d be stranded until we could arrange a shipment. Everyone thinks the airships are a great idea until they realize the logistical train you need and how much fuel they burn.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t they move them by train?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but only using specialized cars. Otherwise they¡¯re too big and heavy. And guess what?¡±

    ¡°Either they haven¡¯t built the cars, or they can¡¯t hook them up to the Alkazaria line.¡±

    Gueneve nodded. ¡°A bit of both. The cars were built in Palendurio, but they¡¯re too wide to just be put on the tracks going north. So now they¡¯re being disassembled so they can be moved¡ªat great expense, I might add.¡±

    ¡°Which is why,¡± the man added, prodding the mystery meat on his plate around with his fork, ¡°we get to eat this.¡±

    Mirian laughed, trying to make it sound genuine. She felt like she was playing a board game, moving pieces around to get the result she wanted. Even as the two soldiers were talking, she could only think about what her next move would be so she could twist the conversation in the direction she wanted.

    ¡°Who are we reporting to? I mean, okay I know that part, I mean, who gets to decide whether or not to deploy them?¡±

    ¡°The brass. They¡¯re attached to a division.¡±

    Mirian furrowed her brow. ¡°But aren¡¯t they also part of some emergency authorization law? How does that work?¡±

    The man shrugged.

    Gueneve said, ¡°Yes, it¡¯s supposed to assist the Arcane Praetorians in emergencies. The Royal Couriers would have to deliver a specially authorized letter. Or Parliament can, but that¡¯s just because the Committee on Armed Forces is technically the head of the military and can authorize or countermand anything. Though that only happened once during the First Crisis after the Unification War.¡±

    ¡°Wow, you really know your stuff,¡± Mirian said. After that, she let the conversation drift, bringing it back every so often to figure out a bit more about the capabilities of the airships. She didn¡¯t push too hard, since many of the capabilities were considered secrets, just like with the Akanan ships, but inferred about how many shells each craft carried and how much fossilized myrvite they consumed. Then the hour chimed, and they both stood.

    ¡°Sorry, we¡¯ve got to get going Micael,¡± Gueneve said. ¡°A lot of other things to take care of. I look forward to working with you though, we need all the hands we can get.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I¡¯ll be in touch when the paperwork gets sorted. I¡¯ll get the other plate.¡±

    ***

    Back in her workshop, she started mapping out her new attack plan. The dimensional problem quickly made itself present. She started by reducing the dimensions by one and thinking of the hunter teams as pieces of parchment, and a turtle as the beast. Mirian mentally moved the pieces of paper around so that every path the turtle could take to evade was cut off.

    Myrvites like that must only be able to briefly move through the fourth dimension, or we¡¯d see them bypassing spellward barriers and evading hunters more often. I wonder if that¡¯s why Baracuel has such an issue with stone moles? Maybe they¡¯re like moon flickers in that they can briefly move through that dimension.

    That seemed worth discussing with Viridian.

    Mentally, she started to think about the problem in its actual form. Surrounding it in three dimensions still helps surround it in the fourth. With plunging fire from the airships, we¡¯re cutting off the top. With five teams around it, we cut off the plane. I can plant bombs under the ground. An earthshaker shell set with a conditional fuse instead of a timed fuse.

    She fell into something of a daze, equations and diagrams floating in her mind. Jei¡¯s equations were designed to make remote spells cost less mana and have more power by having them follow a more efficient four-dimensional path. But what if the spell could be completed midway through it¡¯s journey? Just because we can¡¯t travel into that dimension doesn¡¯t mean our spells can¡¯t. They do it constantly. It¡¯s just a matter of changing the end coordinates of the spell.

    For all her knowledge of glyphs and mathematics, Mirian had never explored that particular idea. Torrviol Academy might have already had someone who¡¯s done research on it. Jei would be the best person to talk to.

    Jei¡­

    A flash of anger went through Mirian. She thought of Troytin poisoning all the professors, of marching into Torrviol each cycle now like it was his place, and isolating her from her friends, her mentors¡ªher home of so many years.

    She suppressed it, breathing deeply.

    Patience, she reassured herself. There will be a time to feel. But not yet.

    Not yet.

    A few days later, Mirian noticed increased patrols as teams found and started fixing the breached wards around Fort Aegrimere. She skipped town, and continued her preparations until the cycle ended.

 Chapter 153 - Old Mentors

    Mirian needed to talk to both Jei and Viridian extensively, so she made sure to create new initial conditions to throw Troytin off. First, though, she continued her surveillance of Specter. Even after discovering her real name, she couldn¡¯t think of the horrible woman as human. Her code name was far more apt; she was an evil spirit, utterly devoid of life, and possessing the body of another.

    The switch between Specter acting like Adria and acting like herself was as quick as a glyph-switch getting hit. One moment, she¡¯d be at a friendly dinner with the local arcanists, smiling softly and complimenting the waiter on a new vest; the next, she was walking the streets with her face utterly blank, empty eyes gazing about like a bog lion surveying its prey.

    By switching to ¡®Micael¡¯ early, Mirian got access to Torrian Tower. That also meant continuing her tryst with Valen again so she could use her room. Once, it had been a welcome distraction. Now, she just found herself going through the motions like an actor in a stage play. When Valen slept, she found herself watching her sleeping form and feeling pity. The young woman would never move past her impulsive hedonism. She would never change or grow. She was stuck, like a potted plant starved of sunlight. No amount of tropism would let her straining leaves escape the dark prison she¡¯d been put in.

    Everywhere in Torrviol was like that. People retracing old tracks they¡¯d warn into the cobblestones, not aware they¡¯d taken that path a hundred times. The first year girl who cried on the bench in the plaza on that first day was still crying. She would never stop. The leaves of autumn were constantly falling as the world descended into a winter that it had never left.

    Mirian felt the melancholy clawing at her; there was still no end in sight.

    All I can do is push through. Too much is at stake.

    Once in Torrian Tower and past most of the wards, it was a simple matter to sneak a hidden remote spy spell into the meeting room.

    There, Specter became something halfway between Adria and herself. She had a light touch and soft words, but there was a sternness behind them, and Mirian could feel the woman pulling at puppet strings as she talked with the Archmage.

    ¡°Adria, I need the break-ins to stop. You said you could talk to the Syndicate. You said you could lean on the guard. I¡¯ve given you time to do both. I don¡¯t need to reiterate how sensitive this issue is.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± she said quietly. ¡°I was able to talk to my contacts down south. They¡¯re rounding up the Syndicate thieves on their end, then we can crack down on the issue here. But we have to be smart about this. Cutting the tail off the chimera will just get the beast riled up. We have to cut off the head first.¡±

    Mirian could see the tension and frustration in Luspire. ¡°Do you have any idea how bad this makes me look? If the Akanan Universities find out¡ª¡±

    Specter kept her voice calm, infuriatingly so in her opinion. ¡°They won¡¯t. You keep the professors from talking, and I¡¯ll keep the guard from publicizing anything. I know Mayor Wolden. I can make sure he leans on the local broadsheet. As long as you keep things quiet, no one will find out. Just wait a little longer.¡±

    Making him complicit in her operations, Mirian knew. So that¡¯s how she was ¡®taking care¡¯ of him. I bet she¡¯s the one dangling the position in Akana in front of him in the first place. After all, if Troytin can manipulate Archmage Tyrcast, it¡¯s because he¡¯s already involved in the conspiracy somehow.

    Then Mirian saw it; a letter from Vadriach University sitting on the desk. Luspire glanced at it, then said, ¡°I¡¯m beginning to doubt this offer is even real. Tyrcast is now talking about coming here.¡±

    There was a brief moment where confusion passed over Specter¡¯s face. Suddenly, the conversation wasn¡¯t going according to plan.

    ¡°He¡­ did? Perhaps he¡¯s finally seen how important the research you¡¯re doing is. Being able to report on it himself would let him do a lot more to support you in front of the board.¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t know about this?¡± Luspire said, raising an eyebrow. ¡°You must be slipping in your old age.¡±

    Specter smiled, or attempted it. ¡°May I see the letter?¡±

    Luspire glanced at it again, since it was sitting in plain sight on the table. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t have it with me right now. It¡¯s in a pile somewhere. I¡¯ll have to dig it up when I¡¯m a little less¡­ harried.¡± He smiled back at her with the same sincerity.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll do what I can to lighten the load. I don¡¯t know if anything can be done to speed up the operation, but you know I always have your back,¡± Specter said, rising to leave.

    Then, Luspire looked around. ¡°Do you feel that?¡± he asked.

    Mirian quickly ended the spell. The meeting was clearly over, and there was no point pushing her luck. She went back to the glyphwork Endresen had assigned her.

    Hmm. It¡¯d be interesting to see how Specter reacted to new events and a Troytin less reliant on her. But also, it would be far too dangerous.

    That night, Specter died in her bed again.

    ***

    ¡°May I come in?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°Ah. Micael, was it?¡± Viridian said. ¡°Of course. Office hours exist for a reason.¡±

    ¡°Great. I have some questions¡ªthey¡¯re maybe a bit strange, but they do relate tangentially to the lecture.¡±

    Viridian brightened somewhat. ¡°Often the strange questions are the best ones to ask. Go ahead.¡±

    Mirian took her seat. ¡°Can stone moles briefly move through the fourth spatial dimension?¡±

    The old professor cracked a smile and leaned back in his chair. ¡°What a fascinating question. I can¡¯t say I expected it. You seem to believe it¡¯s possible, so let¡¯s hear why first.¡±

    ¡°I was reading about the development of the magical telegraph. At first, it was assumed that stone moles burrowed deep enough that they avoided the effects of the spellwards barriers. However, extending the spellward down a meter did nothing to deter them. An experimental line that was surrounded by fired clay tubes also was breached, and a brick trench covered by a thin spellward barrier also did nothing to stop them. The elevated pipe finally worked, though that one got eaten by mushroom spores. The assumption was the stone moles had found a way to chew through the hardened materials, but the researchers never found the gap they entered in.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    ¡°Circumstantial evidence, then. Valid, but not conclusive. It certainly raises interesting possibilities.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s other myrvites that can do it. Moon flickers for sure. Nightmelders, probably.¡± She thought about how to phrase the next part. ¡°And there was a Labyrinth expedition team who reported creatures that could jump from one direction but arrive from another. It can¡¯t be teleportation because any creature attempting to teleport to catch prey would consume magnitudes more energy than it would receive. But just like we can jump or climb to move in the third dimension, perhaps the ability to ¡®jump¡¯ in the fourth dimension is more common than we thought among myrvites.¡±

    ¡°Certainly an intriguing hypothesis. I think you should test it.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ what?¡±

    ¡°I can get you a population of stone moles within the week,¡± he said.  ¡°You already know what they like to eat. The next step is designing puzzles that can only be solved by a fourth-dimensional jaunt and putting the food on the other side. I¡¯m willing to support you in experimental design.¡±

    Mirian furrowed her brow. A practical test¡­ and with a burrowing myrivte. A way to explore Apophagorga¡¯s weakness without getting near the beast.

    That was what she needed. She wasn¡¯t sure what limitations Apophagorga had. Could it communicate all memory information of a cycle? Did its entire soul transfer, or just pieces of it? If it was transferring its entire soul, what was the source of energy? It would have to be enormous. For her time loop, Mirian still had no idea what the energy source was, but she was assuming the Elder Gods themselves had something to do with it. But why would they include such a beast? Or is it a natural capability?

    Either way, she couldn¡¯t risk provoking it. Like Troytin, the next time she came at it, she would have to come at with such overwhelming force that victory was assured. Most myrvites¡ªwell, any creatures¡ªwere inherently lazy. They tried to maximize calories and minimize activity. Lions like to laze about when they were satiated, and glaciavores were known to hibernate for months on end when prey was scarce. As long as it didn¡¯t feel threatened, she didn¡¯t think it would come after her.

    That gives me an idea.

    ¡°You seem deep in thought,¡± Viridian said.

    ¡°Ah¡ªyeah. Sorry, I have a lot on my plate with Endresen and¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡®No¡¯ is an acceptable answer,¡± Viridian said.

    ¡°My answer is yes, though.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Oh! Well, splendid, then. You will want to talk with one of the other professors here about the fourth-dimensional mathematics. Professor J¡ª¡±

    ¡°Professor Jei,¡± Mirian said, smiling. ¡°I¡¯m familiar with her work.¡±

    Viridian smiled back. ¡°Wonderful. I¡¯m looking forward to our collaboration.¡±

    ***

    Mirian met Respected Jei in her office. Mirian held a finger up, then cast several divination spells in quick succession, then checked a device from her bag.

    ¡°Okay, we¡¯re good,¡± she said.

    ¡°I do check my own office,¡± Jei said. ¡°That the Academy was overrun by Akanan spies¡ªmany things now make sense. Selkus has been talking about you, which means I assume you haven¡¯t told him.¡±

    ¡°Not yet. Some other cycle. He¡¯s a big enough variable as it is. He told you the experiment I want to run?¡±

    ¡°Many or fewer.¡±

    Mirian hesitated. ¡°Oh. The phrase is ¡®More or less.¡¯¡±

    Jei frowned. ¡°I dislike this language. Have I taught you Gulwenen yet?¡±

    ¡°I can count to fifty. But, no. Hasn¡¯t been time. Too many other things to learn. And there¡¯s no way for me to get to Zhighua, nor a reason to go. I mean, eventually I¡¯ll probably have to measure the leyline collapse there¡­ unless this titan is the solution. It probably isn¡¯t that easy, though.¡± More bitterly she added, ¡°It¡¯s never easy. I can¡¯t even begin to see the end, only the next steps on my path. Have you ever lived without hope?¡±

    Jei was silent.

    ¡°Sorry, you don¡¯t have to answer that. And I didn¡¯t mean to unload on you, it¡¯s just¡­ there¡¯s no one for me to lean on unconditionally. If I want sympathy, I have to explain why I need it first. But we don¡¯t have time for me to gripe.¡±

    ¡°When will we have time?¡± Jei asked, raising an eyebrow.

    Mirian swallowed. ¡°Maybe another year from now. Maybe two. That¡¯s my current estimate, another 13 to 26 cycles, assuming I can find a way to speed up my¡­ route. Unless the prize seems in danger, in which case I¡¯m grabbing it.¡± She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I¡¯m being hunted by one time traveler while a second makes war on my country, I can¡¯t enjoy time with my friends, my friends can¡¯t understand me anymore, everything I learned in civics class was a lie, and my family is lost to me on some eternal vacation¡ªif they are my family, which they might not be, because I have a memory curse that wiped out my early childhood and I apparently learned Adamic back then, and also I have an inherited trait that the rest of my relatives don¡¯t, and all of those things pale in comparison to how fucking doomed this world is.¡±

    Jei sat at her desk, looking distraught. ¡°I am not very good at knowing what to say to problems like these,¡± she said. ¡°But you speak Adamic?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Mirian said, swapping languages.

    Jei brightened. ¡°Wonderful! My Adamic is much better than my Friian. It doesn¡¯t sound so stilted.¡±

    Mirian looked at her old professor. ¡°You speak Adamic?¡± Then she burst out laughing, which seemed to indicate a dam breaking in her mind, because the laughter turned hysterical. Jei went back to looking very concerned again as Mirian laughed. She held up her index finger and wiped tears from her eyes. ¡°Hah¡­ all this time, and I didn¡¯t know that. It¡¯s funny, I¡¯ve learned so much, but I still know nothing.¡±

    ¡°Very wise of you. It¡¯s the man who thinks he knows everything that¡¯s the fool.¡± Jei looked at her again. ¡°Mirian, how long has it been?¡±

    She took a deep breath. She¡¯d been counting the loops, but she hadn¡¯t lived to the end of all of them. Here or there, she was sure she¡¯d miscounted; there was no way for her to keep track, other than remembering. Still, she¡¯d been counting. ¡°Ten years,¡± she whispered.

    Jei visibly recoiled. ¡°God¡¯s blood,¡± she said. Mirian was pretty sure it was the first time she¡¯d heard Jei curse. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Mirian. It shouldn¡¯t be a burden you were forced to carry.¡±

    She felt the tears slipping out, unbidden. She raised a hand to wipe them away, then retracted it. Let them fall, she decided. ¡°No. But I suppose the Ominian chose well. I just wish¡­ I just wish I didn¡¯t have to do it alone.¡±

    Alone. That was the word she hated. It churned around in her like a black miasma of despair, and where it touched it left an ash coating of melancholy. Part of her didn¡¯t want to confront Ibrahim because as long as she didn¡¯t she could hope he was different. Hope he was better. She didn¡¯t know what she would do if he turned out to be just like Troytin.

    Jei came and sat by her, and awkwardly put her arm around her. She was always so awkward, but her heart was in the right place. Her title was apt. Jei¡¯s sense of justice was unshakable, and she didn¡¯t try to lie and tell her she wasn¡¯t alone. She valued the truth too much for that, and Mirian respected her for it. Mirian let Jei¡¯s arm comfort her for a little longer, then said, ¡°I can¡¯t go down this road. I want to, Gods know I do, but if I continue¡ªI don¡¯t know if I can stop. There¡¯s too much to say, too much to¡­¡±

    She took a deep breath in. ¡°We should get back to it. The longer I delay, the harder it¡¯ll be. I need your help figuring out how myrvites move in four¡ªdamn, what¡¯s the word?¡± She swapped back to Friian. ¡°Dimensions.¡±

    Jei nodded, squeezed her shoulder once, then stood to get her abacus.

    Mirian dried her face and got to work.

    ***

    While Viridian procured the stone moles and looked over Mirian¡¯s designs, Endresen had her working on a machine that might be useful for more precise glyph crystallization. The work was monotonous, but useful. Eventually, it might allow more mana to pass through a shaper glyph more efficiently.

    She was in Endresen¡¯s laboratory when the door suddenly burst open. She turned, expecting the professor, but instead, her adrenaline spiked as she saw who it was: the smug visage of Troytin, and behind him, a bored looking Archmage Tyrcast.

 Chapter 154 - Confrontation

    Mirian readied herself for a fight. She only had a single repository with her, but she always had combat spells prepared in her spellbook and the levitation wand up her sleeve. Behind her was a glass window, so if she needed to, she could escape. Or, she could summon Eclipse. She started to reach for her spellbook, but then froze.

    Troytin didn¡¯t have a wand or spellbook ready. Instead, he was just glaring at her.

    ¡°Micael Nezzar?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yes? What are you doing in here? This¡ªah, Archmage Tyrcast! I¡¯m¡­ honored?¡± She hoped her confusion sounded genuine. In a sense, it was genuine. If she¡¯d been found out, what was he doing asking her disguise-name? But if she hadn¡¯t been found out, what was he doing with the archmage in tow?

    Tyrcast rolled his eyes. ¡°No honoring being done here. I¡¯m just here because I made an ill-advised deal.¡± Tyrcast swapped to Eskanar. ¡°He¡¯s clean, by the way. No illusions, no unusual anti-divination wards.¡±

    ¡°Damn,¡± Troytin replied, then swapped back to Friian and said, ¡°You know Mirian Castrella. How?¡± His Friian had gotten significantly better, she noticed. He still had an accent, but it wasn¡¯t so pronounced.

    Gods above, he doesn¡¯t know, she thought. ¡°Who?¡± she said.

    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb,¡± he snapped. ¡°You¡¯re too erratic to be self-guided. She¡¯s manipulating you. How? What did she say? What did she promise? What happens at the beginning of the month?¡±

    Mirian thought about how someone not in a time loop would respond. ¡°What? Who are you and why¡ª?¡±

    Tyrcast piped up. ¡°I¡¯m here to make sure you answer the questions,¡± he said, still sounding bored. ¡°Please do so, honestly, so we can both be done with this embarrassment. Then you can forget this strange little incident ever happened.¡± He let a stream of light dance around his fingers like a serpent weaving in and out. It was an impressive display of raw magic control.

    She could still feel the adrenaline coursing through her, so she hoped she looked sufficiently intimidated. She swallowed, since that was a thing people who were scared did.

    ¡°Answer the damn question,¡± Troytin snapped. ¡°What happens at the start of the month?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I came here? And then my transfer records got lost in a fire and I had to annoy the registrar for several days.¡±

    ¡°What else? How do you know Svani Endresen?¡±

    She looked at Tyrcast, who looked back at her and shrugged. ¡°Just keep talking and you¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t. I mean, I didn¡¯t. I just¡ª¡± Mirian¡¯s mind raced, trying to come up with pieces to Micael¡¯s backstory she¡¯d never thought to put into place. ¡°¡ªI got a letter from my grandma. She used to be an arcanist and I guess she knew the professor, so she suggested I talk to her. So I did.¡±

    Troytin looked hungry. ¡°Where¡¯s the letter now? Do you have it?¡±

    ¡°Of course not, why would I keep it? I wrote her a letter on the back and sent it through the post. Why do you want to read my grandma¡¯s letter?¡±

    ¡°What else did she say?¡±

    Mirian wracked her brain. I also need to introduce a reason he can¡¯t find Micael. She decided, then and there, that Micael¡¯s story should be that he started the cycle in Cairnmouth, on his way up to Torrviol. ¡°Uh, not to go down River Street on my way to the train because she thought it was too dangerous. Which was weird. Why¡ª?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s your grandmother¡¯s name?¡±

    Mirian tried to think of a common west Baracuel name. ¡°Uh, Cordelia. Nezzar, of course.¡±

    Troytin¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°What else happens at the start of the month? What would make you go to Cairnmouth with Calisto Ennecus?¡±

    Mirian¡¯s heart raced. Shit. ¡°What? Why would I do that? I mean, she¡¯s nice, but we¡¯re pursuing very different majors. What¡¯s going on? Why are you even investigating students? You¡¯re Akanans!¡±

    ¡°We were hired on as outside investigators,¡± Troytin said, lying easily.

    Behind him, Tyrcast rolled his eyes, speaking Eskanar again. ¡°Do you really need me along for this?¡±

    ¡°I sent two airships after her, and never heard back from them,¡± he replied, looking back. ¡°You¡¯re profiting plenty from this, I might remind you.¡± He obviously hadn¡¯t talked to any of the students Mirian had told Micael¡¯s transfer history to.

    Troytin turned again to look Mirian up and down, scowling. He looked over her spellbook, then at the work she was doing. Thank the Ominian I wasn¡¯t working on tri-bonded glyphs. Mirian looked between him and Tyrcast. If she summoned Eclipse, she wondered how fast she could kill Troytin and run down Tyrcast. She embraced the Dance of the Dusk Waves form so that her reaction times would be just a hair faster. After all, if either of them had a focus, they would already know she wasn¡¯t who she seemed. All of a sudden, she wondered what happened to a body that died with binding runes on it. Did it revert to its original form? Either way, revealing herself had to be a last resort. She wasn¡¯t ready. Not yet.

    Finally, Troytin took a step back. ¡°She¡¯s finding high-variable actors to focus on now. More subtle than arson.¡±

    ¡°Are we good?¡±

    ¡°Fine. Yes,¡± he told Tyrcast. To Mirian he said, ¡°Tell no one about this, or there will be consequences you really don¡¯t like. Your family won¡¯t like them either.¡± He came a step closer and said, ¡°And I have eyes and ears everywhere, so I will know if you talk.¡± Then he gave her an infuriating smile and started for the door. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± he said, and Archmage Tyrcast obediently followed.

    As soon as they were gone, Mirian let out her breath.

    Shit that was close.

    But the disguise had held up. Troytin had been right there, and he hadn¡¯t known. If he digs deeper, he might figure it out, though. With Specter no longer actively deceiving him about how soul magic worked, it would only be a matter of time before he figured out the pieces he was missing. Both the Deeps and Republic Intelligence Division were using soul magic. Troytin knew Mirian was associated with both Xipuatl and Marva who used soul magic.

    She considered running, but decided that might make Troytin look closer. It seemed he was going around investigating anyone suspicious for connections, trying to reverse-engineer the disruptions Mirian was doing. Looking for a pattern. Looking for my objectives. He would depart Torrviol shortly and return during the invasion.

    After this cycle, though, Micael had to disappear. She¡¯d concocted a backstory that wouldn¡¯t hold up to scrutiny. If Troytin did hear Micael was an exchange student and started investigating Akanan census records, he¡¯d quickly realize Micael Nezzar and his family had never lived there. Port records would reflect the family never transited the straits. If he had access to Baracueli records, he could check those too.

    Far too close. She¡¯d overused the disguise. She also had to step up her efforts to misdirect him. The next time she confronted him, she wanted it to be on her terms entirely.

    For now, at least, she could continue her stone mole experiments.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ***

    The day before the Akanans attacked Torrviol, Mirian stood with Viridian and together they watched a stone mole vanish as it phased around a spellward, then reappear to start munching on the golden cap mushrooms on the other side. As the stone mole eagerly chewed at the mana-rich fungus, Viridian turned to look at her.

    ¡°This is going to create quite a stir in myrvite research,¡± he said.

    Mirian smiled. ¡°I¡¯m sure it will. Thanks again for all your help.¡± Now I just need to figure out how to hit them with spells when they phase.

    ***

    Over the next four cycles, Mirian dedicated more time to disrupting Torrviol¡¯s initial state. For this, she relied on Calisto and Nicolus, who both knew far too many people at the Academy, and Valen, who enjoyed stirring up drama even more than Calisto. Together, they worked on crafting various pranks that left embarrassed students making fools of themselves publicly. For example, they tricked Platus into thinking another student had challenged him to a duel, which left both of them in the hospital getting treated for burn wounds by a priest.

    Platus was a bit too unstable, so Mirian targeted more sane students for the next parts. Valen and Calisto convinced a group of girls that one of the boy¡¯s dorms was stealing women¡¯s underwear by stealing it themselves, then planting it in their rooms. That led to utter chaos and a message from the Dean of Housing that three of the dorms had to gather and endure.

    The cycle after that, Nicolus pretended to be a member of a secret student organization, but recruits had to scrawl messages on the Academy walls in an ancient language. Nicolus had, of course, drawn random symbols on the papers he handed them. The next round of qualifications involved running through Torrviol without pants while casting flare spells. Both caused quite the stir.

    Mirian¡¯s goal was to encourage odd behavior in students so they¡¯d become targets for Troytin¡¯s investigations. Or, there¡¯d be too many of them for him to investigate. Troytin knew her connections with several students and professors, but she broke off contact as soon as the airship arrived so he wouldn¡¯t be able to trace it back.

    She also made sure to change her disguises and names regularly. As for Professor Endresen, it had been nice working with her, but the risk had become too high. In two of the cycles, she didn¡¯t even make contact with Torres, simply so that she would act differently.

    In the meantime, she continued her experiments with stone moles, setting up a secret experimental room in the Torrviol Underground. She handed off results for Jei to analyze, disguising the papers as math homework, and Jei in turn left them in a dead-drop behind the secret door in Griffin Hall.

    She could get the stone moles to phase regularly, and worked with Jei to map out end-point coordinates of a spell that were in the fourth dimension. With trial and error¡ªmostly error¡ªshe could figure out how ¡®deep¡¯ in the fourth dimension they were going and hit them with a very small force blade spell. It was a nasty thing to do, and a lot of stone moles died in her lab when a spell hit them in a vital organ. For a greater purpose, though.

    The other thing she did was practice impersonating Adria Gavell. By delaying her assassination of Specter, she could analyze the bindings in detail. Then, once the traitorous spy was dead, she could memorize as much information as possible from her correspondence and notes.

    She also took acting lessons from one of the women who helped run the town theater. It was a skill she¡¯d been working on for some time, ever since she realized she¡¯d need to infiltrate the Akanan airships, but getting instruction and feedback from a professional helped her perfect her gait and demeanor.

    As she practiced her part and studied Specter¡¯s notes, she paid special attention to Adria¡¯s contacts at Fort Aegrimere and the other Praetorians.

    There was, after all, a perfect magical strike force, highly trained and with spellpower at a minimum of 80 myr. Better, they were just south of the myrvite titan, and were experts enough in combat she could quickly train them on her new attack techniques.

    It was time to see what was going on with them.

    ***

    Mirian recruited her old school friends to disrupt Torrviol again and went back to killing Specter and arranging for the spy cell to be arrested on the first day. Then, she left town on the 3rd, bringing her supplies with her and doing most of her scribing on the trains.

    The Arcane Praetorians were scheduled to depart Palendurio on the morning of the 4th for their secret mission. They moved by a specially arranged train north to Cairnmouth, then took another special train to Alkazaria. Mirian still knew nothing about that operation, other that they were hunting a fugitive. That then landed them serendipitously in Alkazaria before Ibrahim could possibly block them. It seemed to be one of the only reasons his armies couldn¡¯t take the second capital.

    She departed from Cairnmouth that evening so that she¡¯d arrive ahead of the Praetorians. That would give her a chance to observe Ibrahim¡¯s forces as they moved into position.

    Mirian had last passed through Alkazaria about three years ago to visit Grandpa Irabi, but had done little to study its layout, and nothing to examine its defenses. Now, she really took in the city.

    The white spires of the city spoke to the past glory of the city; even before it was part of Baracuel, it was part of a powerful kingdom. During the Unification War, it was one of the few cities to never have been taken by an army. She had learned in her history class that this was not due to any special fortifications the city had, but the resilience and courage of its people. Those people never wavered in their faith of the Elder Gods. Quietly, east Baracueli people liked to speak of the hand of Shiamagoth personally shielding the city.

    That was all well and good, but as an ancient city, it also had an ancient sandstone wall that encircled a vast portion of the city. During the Unification War, it had been reinforced with both new stone and the best in defensive wards, which also might have had something to do with its success. It was those walls, and the Ibaihan River that passed south of the city, that were probably giving Ibrahim the most trouble. It was also a port city. With no navy, Ibrahim had no good way to cut off food or supplies from flowing into Alkazaria from its fishing fleets or from trade with Madinahr. In all likelihood, the same olives and grains from the farms she knew in Arriroba were helping feed the city each cycle.

    Mirian spent some time wandering the second capital, becoming more familiar with its main roads, the docks, and each of the large gates. Everywhere, merchant traffic moved through the streets. The sailing routes within the East Sound were some of the safest in the world¡ªwhich didn¡¯t mean they were safe, but it did mean there were plenty of goods from distant cities to be sold. Smaller businesses tried to hawk their wares to the many pilgrims and travelers visiting the city.

    Walking the streets, Mirian felt more at home than she did in any of the western cities except maybe Torrviol. They were broad, well kept, and felt safe. Perhaps it was having so many temples with people praying out in the open instead of in dark cavernous churches. Perhaps it was the way the sun felt brighter without the oppressive low clouds that always seemed to smother the western cities.

    Or maybe it was just nostalgia. Alkazaria felt like Madinahr, and that reminded her of old friends and the days of her youth.

    On the evening of the 4th, a special train arrived. The Praetorians were in disguise, making gratuitous use of illusion spells to make the train look like a normal one. Only, there were dozens of soldiers escorting them who were also getting off the train, the train was unscheduled, and they all couldn¡¯t help but move around like disciplined regiments. The rumors started circling the west station immediately.

    She followed the group as they moved, trying to get a good count.

    There¡¯s got to be at least 30 or 40 Praetorians, and they¡¯ve got assistants and the escort soldiers with them. No wonder there were only a handful in Palendurio¡ªthey¡¯ve damn near got the entire strike force. But why?

    Mirian also kept an eye out for Ibrahim¡¯s spies. No matter how good the southern time traveler had gotten at all this, Dawn¡¯s Peace had been a smaller rebel group at the beginning of this all. Rostal had been surprised they hadn¡¯t been exterminated. That meant almost everything Ibrahim was building wasn¡¯t already in place. The simple limit of distance meant it would take time for him to move people into position. The limits of ability would prevent these new recruits from being expert spies. Unless he¡¯s able to do what Troytin¡¯s done, and usurp factions and institutions that are already built up. Commander Hirte had been sure there were traitors and spies at work, but Mirian wasn¡¯t. To someone who didn¡¯t understand the nature of the time loops, it would be the only reasonable explanation.

    But that was why she was here. To understand, first, what was happening.

    As the sun set, the Praetorians made their way to the center of the city, winding up the shallow central hill, past the great temples. At the gates of Alkazaria Citadel, a delegation of more soldiers and Praetorians was waiting for them. As they entered, Mirian broke off. Subtle as an artillery blast, she thought. The operation, whatever it was for, was not well hidden. Still, I don¡¯t know the target yet, so it¡¯s not a total failure in operational security.

    She¡¯d find out more about it in time. For now, she wanted a good view of the city.

    Mirian spent the next day continuing to survey the city as she scouted out magic shops and accumulated supplies. Her room at the inn began to fill with boxes. Then, she rented several machines in an artifice shop to forge a few seals. She only took out a few hundred gold doubloons, and made sure to rotate her disguises each time. In the grand scheme of the second capital¡¯s economy, a few hundred gold really wasn¡¯t all that much, so she thought it was unlikely to trigger any metaphorical divination wards.

    The day after that, Mirian scouted around the central district, looking for a luxury apartment that was in one of the old towers. She had some fine clothing tailored for her, then burned most of her little fortune renting an apartment on the ninth floor of one of the towers on central hill. It was well worth it, though. By the 7th, she¡¯d gotten her supplies shipped in and was starting to subtly ward the rooms. From the balcony, she could look out to the west and north where Ibrahim¡¯s armies would arrive.

    Likely, nobody else in the city even knew it, but tomorrow, the Siege of Alkazaria would begin.

 Chapter 155 - The Siege of Alkazaria

    Professor Endresen had taught Mirian all matter of lensing spells, mostly to look at the intricacies of glyph formation. However, the same principles worked to bend light to view distant objects.

    From the newspapers she¡¯d seen, she knew Ibrahim usually started the siege with an attack early on the morning of the 8th, so she layered a lens spell with a night-vision spell, and was surprised to find it actually worked. She just had to make sure she avoided looking at the nearby glyphlamps so she didn¡¯t blind herself.

    There were two train lines that moved west out of the city, one that hugged the Ibaihan River, and another that eventually split off north towards west Baracuel. A few hours before dawn, she finally caught the distinct infrared radiating off an unscheduled train heading toward the city.

    With the war in Persama so close to the city, Alkazaria had never quite given up its security protocols. There were still manned gatehouses along the wall where roads and train tracks entered the city. The western gates closest to the more southern track were, unexpectedly, silent, but the gatehouse north of them wasn¡¯t. It sent up a red flare, which meant ¡®stop.¡¯

    The train slowed, but it didn¡¯t stop.

    Mirian could just make out the faint light of warm bodies pouring out of the cars as soon as the train came through the western gate.

    That gate should have been closed, or should have gotten an alarm off. So he does have an advanced force, or is able to intimidate key people through advanced messages.

    They quickly organized into columns of about a hundred, each of which split off.

    He has companies heading to key objectives. Each one must have detailed orders, which means he had to craft them himself.

    She directed the lens spell to watch one group. That all came from a single train car!? Ibrahim was cramming at least a hundred people, all loaded with equipment, into each car. However, there were only 20 cars, including freight cars, which was actually above what the spell engine was rated for. At most, he has 2000 troops. The rest of the army must still be marching, but if he wants a surprise attack this early, he has to give up numbers for speed.

    Mirian squinted, watching as the companies fanned out. He was trying to take a capital city with a single brigade. Absolute madness. There¡¯s at least twice as many guards as he has troops right now, and that doesn¡¯t take into account the Arcane Praetorians.

    It was an impressive logistical feat. More, because the majority of his army could only have been established and organized several days ago at most.

    The man is relentless, she thought. If anything, Rostal had understated it. I¡¯ve at least taken breaks. I wonder if he has. Though come to think of it, neither has Troytin.

    The minutes ticked by. Then, at last, the distant crack of gunfire echoed from the northwest gate, and two more flares went up. Alkazaria was big enough it never quite went to sleep, so as Ibrahim¡¯s companies ran into night laborers and drunks, shouting rose up as panicked people fled from the sudden incursion of troops. Mirian stopped channeling her night-vision spell so she could better pick out the flashes.

    More flashes of light erupted from the northwest gate. Someone there was giving the Persamans trouble. Then there was an explosion, and dozens of flares went up all at once; the whole area looked like a miniature lightning storm frolicking with a rainbow.

    By then, scattered firefights had erupted all over the western part of the city. From what she could tell, they were targeting key crossroads and guard stations, while another group seized gatehouses along the wall. The minutes ticked by. The city guards usually dealt with criminals, not organized military units, so were getting pushed back rapidly across the city. However, a company of a hundred was ill suited to both push and hold anything. Their rapid advance had more holes in it than an unwarded telegraph cable. She could make out city guards the Persamans had accidentally bypassed behind their lines running from street to street.

    Alarm bells began to ring throughout the city, the loud gongs desperately clanging.

    Finally, there was a reaction from the Citadel. Mirian moved over to one of the apartment¡¯s windows where she had a better view. Lights had come on everywhere, and, she suspected, divination machines. She could just make out commotion in one of the courtyards. Then, heart pounding, she watched as two dozen Arcane Praetorians levitated up from the citadel at once, traveling in four formations. Mirian rushed back over to the balcony, fingers gripping the railing tight as she leaned forward to watch.

    The Persaman advanced force had the element of surprise. Based on how many of them had dropped behind cover, they had foreknowledge of when the counter-attack would come. They had rifles, and certainly were loaded with spellpiercer ammunition. They seemed highly motivated and disciplined. It was 2000 to 24.

    But there really was just no substitute for raw spellpower.

    The Praetorian formations were artillery and detection rolled into one. Gunfire erupted from the flat roofs of buildings, from windows, and from alleys. She could just make out the flare of shields around the Praetorians as they swooped across the city. Then came the retaliation.

    Massive fireballs flared out, flashing bright in the night sky. Like red flowers, they bloomed all over the western line. Some of the Praetorians sent out thin beams of fire or lightning, while others attacked with airbusts. The coordinated fire was absolutely devastating, more so because the Praetorians seemed to be using divination to identify clusters of soldiers to target. Whether their guns barked out or stayed silent, they met the same fate: massive aerial bombardment.

    Everywhere, the flash of spells was continuous. As the Praetorians smashed the Persaman forces, the garrison at the Citadel advanced through the streets. Some of them moved down the hill to reinforce the Praetorians and scattered guards, while another group started moving north, aiming to secure the gates along the wall. As soon as they had the north gate, they moved along the wall, occupying the fortifications with squads.

    They finally stopped by the northwest gate, which had apparently finally fallen, but the exchange of fire hardly lasted ten minutes before one of the Praetorian formations came down and ripped the Persaman company apart.

    Fires spread throughout the city, and the fire sorcerers were stuck behind the line of battle. The Praetorians were ignoring the fires in favor of targeting the invaders, but by now, the streets were filling with panicked civilians running about in every direction. Most must have been sheltering in fear, but in several buildings, it wasn¡¯t an option. The situation was rapidly devolving into chaos. Alkazarian construction didn¡¯t burn easily, but there was a lot of fire. As smoke billowed out into the night, it became harder to make out the shape of the battle. Still, the screams echoed up to her. A lot of innocent people were going to die tonight.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!

    Mirian looked out west. The train wasn¡¯t there any longer. At some point, it had started moving back, probably to pick up a new group of soldiers.

    By morning, the Baracueli military had retaken the sections of the wall they¡¯d lost. Why the surprise attack? Mirian wondered. He kills a bunch of possible defenders, but it¡¯s mostly guards and civilians. And in exchange, loses most of a brigade, and alerts the city so they¡¯ll be prepared for the larger force.

    ***

    The answer came two nights later.

    By then, rumors were abound throughout the city of a Persaman army marching on Alkazaria. All trains coming into the city were stopped well outside the city walls and inspected. Meanwhile, a crisis hit the neighborhoods outside the city walls. Several presses of panicked people trying to shove through the gates ended in people being trampled to death. Mirian wasn¡¯t sure how he¡¯d done it, but Ibrahim had already cut communication between the nearest fort and the city. The trains running too and from Cairnmouth and Madinahr continued, now with military escort. The city garrison was deployed to protect those tracks and begin making defensive fortifications, while the Baracuel Army opened its doors to recruits and militias. At the same time, the Praetorians ripped up the southwest tracks for a mile outside the city so that the occupied train line couldn¡¯t approach too close.

    Ibrahim¡¯s forces began to deploy on that second night, pushing east and north as far as they could. His deployment, though, was too far away. Even with her view from the tower balcony, she couldn¡¯t make out much in the way of force information. Likely, the Praetorians had a much better picture though.

    The reason for the attack became clear in the early morning of the 11th, just as the first light of dawn was breaking the horizon. Simultaneously, several warehouses full of fossilized myrvites in the south docks were sent into exothermic cascades, creating a tremendous fire and a toxic mana plume that killed dozens of people before the flames were contained. The toxic mana lingered, though, and with no way to clear that, the area was cordoned off, and the city¡¯s crowding became worse. Evacuees poured out of the city, mostly towards Madinahr.

    Meanwhile, the battle raged at the edge of the city. Ibrahim knew exactly where to strike vulnerabilities on the Baracuel lines, so every time his forces raided a trench or assaulted a position, the defenders took heavy casualties. By then, though, it wasn¡¯t just the Praetorians holding the city. The garrison positioned light artillery all along the wall and moved heavy artillery into position at the Citadel. Emergency militias patrolled everywhere, while more were quickly trained up. The Citadel contained an absolutely massive store of arms and even the old chemical powders people had used in their guns before glyphwork and fossilized myrvite charges had replaced them. The roar of guns and bombs echoed across Alkazaria day and night.

    The sabotage in the city continued, causing fear and panic to sweep the city along with the fires. But for all that he had accomplished, Ibrahim was outnumbered, outgunned, and simply unable to find the perfect weakness that would create the tidal wave he needed. Instead, it became a fight of attrition, each advance by either side ground out in blood.

    A Persaman raid on the ports failed. The saboteurs the surprise attack had planted inside the city were eventually caught and dragged through the streets until their flesh was weathered away by cobblestones. The Persamans were forced to withdraw from the walls so the artillery couldn¡¯t bombard them, which only let more supplies slip into the city by train. Eventually, General Hanaran¡¯s division arrived.

    Mirian watched it all, watching them fight like they were toy soldiers moving about a tabletop. Like the distant stars, she stayed above it, watching the pieces of a game board move about, contemplating how she might pluck a piece from the table to maximally distress the players.

    She hated watching it. The casualties were tremendous, and as the weeks dragged on, the wounded overwhelmed the priests until the moans of the dying became as constant as the wheels of carts. But this is what I must do, to save them in the end, she told herself.

    ***

    As the 6th of Duala approached, the battle continued on, even as the leylines began to burst apart, even as the sky danced with the surreal flames of the arcane auroras. Ibrahim made no appearance, and Troytin¡¯s minions stayed far to the west.

    Mirian continued mapping out her plans, crumpling up her stupider ideas and burning them with raw fire. Too much to do. I need to be efficient. She worked backwards from what she needed, trying to map out the minimum number of days she¡¯d need in Frostland¡¯s Gate and Palendurio. Too long. Plus, I¡¯ll need to visit a workshop somewhere to finish the final spellbook.

    I need to find a way to start gathering people before I head off to Frostland¡¯s Gate. Or, I need to drastically decrease the time it takes to get in and out of the Vault.

    It seemed intractable, but then again, so had the Battle of Torrviol at first. She had to believe she¡¯d find a way.

    Her next experiment was one she¡¯d been saving until near the end of the cycle. It was a test she was reluctant to do, but was necessary.

    There was a long-standing question as to how the things burrowed into the souls of the Prophets¡ªwhatever they were¡ªworked. They transmitted all developments in the soul, including memories, mana capacity, bound objects, and curses. They also were connected to the Ominian through dreams, and to some place that seemed removed from the usual flow of time¡ªor was just simply something she didn¡¯t understand. Finally, through both Specter and Apophagorga, she knew that severe damage to the soul, not just death, triggered an early transfer of the soul back in time.

    However, she was convinced that the void must also be possible to remove.

    But what was the nature of such a void?

    Her revelation about multiple myrvites being able to move through four-dimensional space was just the most recent line of evidence. She¡¯d held objects in the Labyrinth that could only have a fourth-dimensional component. It wasn¡¯t just the Divine Monument and the Ominian¡¯s Mausoleum¡ªall of Enteria held things that regularly interacted with it.

    So what if the void isn¡¯t just a void, but a hidden object within that fourth dimension, affecting the other three?

    The ability to remove a hostile time traveler seemed critically necessary. And if it was possible, she needed to discover it first. The only viable test subject to explore what triggered an early reset, though, was herself.

    Her work with the stone moles had been a critical first step, even if she hadn¡¯t quite realized it. With them, she had continued Jei¡¯s work of mapping out the fourth-dimensional space, and figuring out which arcane glyphs represented what positions, movements, or modifications of position. Her discoveries in the Labyrinth had led her to discover how to link arcane glyphs to celestial runes, which she had used so far mostly to show off to Calisto.

    Now, she could combine those two discoveries, and map out the boundaries of the soul. The celestial runes could delve into it, and the glyphs could add a precision that the rune magic she¡¯d seen otherwise didn¡¯t have. Likely, that was partially because she simply didn¡¯t know hundreds or perhaps thousands of runes, but she had to work with what she had.

    As she had waited and watched in her tower apartment, she had scribed spell that made extensive use of tri-bonds. The result was a rune-glyph hybrid spell that could both move through the soul and produce divination results. On the last day of the cycle, Mirian finally deployed it, sending the needle-like blade of soul energy towards the boundary of the void. Carefully, she drove it in like a doctor¡¯s scalpel, trying to keep both a focused state of meditation and concentration on the complex spell.

    She lost focus, and the spell sputtered out.

    She tried again, then again, taking time to calm her breathing and steady her mind each time.

    At last, she was getting the feel of the new spell. She brought the scalpel of soul energy to the edge of the void, and gently touched the inside boundary of it¡ª

    ***

    And woke in her bed, water dripping. It hadn¡¯t been painful. It had simply been over.

    First boundary discovered, she thought.

 Chapter 156 - An Order of Airships

    Mirian started off the cycle with her usual tasks, then broke the spellward barrier around town in several places. After that, she sent out more disruptive letters through the Royal Post to various people she knew, or knew of.

    Then, she brought Nicolus down with her to Cairnmouth. Sire Nurea came along, because of course she did. Serious attachment issues, Mirian had decided. He¡¯s a grown adult.

    As they took the train down, Mirian reviewed the next step of her plan.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to secure orders of fossilized myrvite here and have them shipped to Sabbicita, and another order from Alkazaria and have it shipped north to Normarg.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of those,¡± Nicolus said, looking at Nurea.

    She shrugged. ¡°Neither have I.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because they¡¯re tiny villages. The first one is in the scrublands at about the halfway point between Cairnmouth and the second capital. The second one is as far north as you can go on the Jatehfemare. That¡¯s the old road that goes north of Alkazaria.¡±

    ¡°Why there?¡±

    ¡°Again, I doubt you¡¯ll be captured, but just in case, I¡¯d really rather not tell you the details you don¡¯t need to know. I just need high-grade spell engine fuel at those places. And yes, the world is at stake.¡±

    Nicolus squinted. ¡°So¡­ are you going to build a giant spell engine to try and stop a leyline? Or redirect it or something?¡±

    ¡°No. No one has ever even reached a leyline, nevermind created an artifact that could interact with it without getting destroyed. The kind of advances in technology and production simply can¡¯t be done in a month. The only possibility of solving this is an indirect approach. And, I finally stumbled on something that can get closer to the leylines than anything else I¡¯ve seen.¡± Her divination data made that clear enough. Mirian had begun to wonder if that was the behemoth¡¯s main source of food. It sounded ridiculous, but if myrvites could consume mana directly, maybe there was a way. It was all guesswork. She had too little information to know anything for sure. ¡°I still don¡¯t know exactly how it¡¯s affecting the leyline, or the leyine affects it, but I¡¯m going to find out.¡±

    ¡°Vague,¡± Nicolus said. He sighed. ¡°Man, it just kinda sucks, you know? Waking up and realizing you''re just a card being shuffled into the deck. I guess I get that it doesn¡¯t make sense to explain it all, but it sucks having no context and no idea what¡¯s going on.¡±

    Mirian could only agree. She still recalled the frustration and fear of her earliest cycles.

    ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why you need us,¡± he said.

    ¡°Did I not explain that part?¡± Mirian sighed. ¡°Sorry, I forget sometimes. It¡¯s all a lot to keep track of. One, withdrawing you from Torrviol causes small changes to build up as everyone who would have been in contact with you encounters a different outcome. The more changes, the harder the timeline becomes to predict and manipulate. Second, I¡¯ve never done this before. I don¡¯t know how it works.¡±

    ¡°Really? Basic trade contract stuff?¡±

    Nurea looked at Nicolus. ¡°Most children¡¯s fathers wait until at least adolescence to instruct them on business practices.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± He looked a bit embarrassed.

    ¡°When you¡¯ve known something long enough, it becomes hard to remember what it was like to not know it,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°If only we could selectively forget,¡± Nurea said quietly, so quietly Mirian thought she hadn¡¯t intended to say it out loud.

    ***

    They split the orders into five smaller ones to allay suspicions. The process of establishing trade contracts was mercifully straightforward, though there was extra layer of paperwork and gold to rushed deliveries. However, in terms of actual time cost, Mirian thought she could get the entire process down to a few hours.

    That¡¯s the fuel settled.

    Next was the harder part: getting the actual airships.

    ¡°Do you want to go down to Palendurio, or stay up here and hide?¡± Mirian asked Nicolus as she made preparations to visit Fort Aegrimere.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather stay up here with you. Closer to the action,¡± he said. Then, he got a worried look. ¡°Did we ever¡­ uh¡­ I mean, did I tell you¡­?¡±

    ¡°That you like me?¡±

    He let out a breath. ¡°Yeah. Haha, sorry, I know it¡¯s a bit awkward.¡±

    ¡°You did,¡± she said.

    ¡°Oh. Cool, I guess,¡± he said.

    Mirian could tell he wasn¡¯t satisfied, that he wanted to know more. But what was she to tell him? Yes, for several years we were intimate, and then I lost interest in you because now you¡¯re years younger and can never change, so now you¡¯re just another board game piece I move around. Or would it be better to lie? There¡¯s no answer I can tell him that isn¡¯t cruel, she thought.

    ¡°I need to focus on my operation,¡± she said. ¡°You and Nurea need to lie low. Assume any Deeps agent is hostile. The enemy even has eyes in the Syndicates, even if they¡¯re not as cooperative as he thinks.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, got it,¡± Nicolus said, looking sad. ¡°Just, at first, I thought there might be more¡­ adventure, you know?¡±

    ¡°Sadly, no. Mostly, it¡¯s repetition, planning, and study. And repetition. And did I mention repetition?¡± She got back to her planning.

    By the next day, she was ready to begin. She cast her bindings so she¡¯d look like Adria and put on the dead woman¡¯s clothes and orichalcum torq and hairpin.

    She walked toward the front entrance of the fort and presented her signet and credential papers. The soldiers  stepped aside, and the gate opened. They didn¡¯t even question it. Well, that part was easy. Then she was off to the Commander¡¯s office, keeping her head high and gaze forward. She found that knowledge helped her feign confidence.

    ¡°I need to see Commander Hirte,¡± she told his secretary. ¡°It¡¯s a matter of national importance.¡±

    His secretary blinked, obviously recognizing her status as Praetorian. ¡°I¡­ I can see,¡± he said. ¡°Ah, who should I say is calling?¡±

    ¡°Adria Gavell,¡± she said.

    ¡°Oh. Oh!¡± he said. He would likely recognize the name from Adria¡¯s correspondence. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll see if he¡¯s available.¡±

    It hardly took any time at all. Hirte burst out of his office doors. ¡°Adria! It really is you.¡± He hesitated, then held out his hand. Mirian shook it. He held on longer than normal. ¡°It¡¯s been too long,¡± he said.

    His secretary cleared his throat.

    ¡°Come in.¡±

    Mirian tried to keep her demeanor friendly but slightly aloof, as she¡¯d seen Specter doing for so many meetings. She took a seat in one of the nicer chairs across from the commander¡¯s desk.

    Hirte closed the door. ¡°Don¡¯t we have a moment before business starts?¡±

    Mirian suddenly was connecting the dots. He looked just like Nicolus had the other day. But Adria Gavell has a relationship with another ma¡­ ah. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It has to be business. I can¡¯t stay long.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re still running you ragged up there? You know, it never seemed like security for something already so secure ought to take so much time. And the least they could do is cycle up a replacement.¡±

    How much does he know about the Divine Monument? Then she had an idea. ¡°Well, they¡¯ll be sending someone else up now. The project bore fruit, just not the kind we hoped for. We still don¡¯t fully understand it, but there¡¯s a divination component we did figure out.¡±

    Hirte leaned forward, excited. ¡°Does this mean the secrecy level is being reduced?¡±

    Hmm. I don¡¯t think he does know. ¡°Not up to me. But I can tell you one thing it discovered. There¡¯s a myrvite titan going to awaken soon. Just north of Alkazaria.¡±

    The commander reeled, eyes widening. ¡°What!?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m organizing the defense. I need all your airships flown to Normarg.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Hirte gaped at her. ¡°I can authorize two. That¡¯s the maximum. Under the law, it requires war to authorize more for a single operation. Unless Parliament is going to declare against a creature¡­?¡±

    Two isn¡¯t going to be enough. And I sure can¡¯t stick my hand into the mess around Parliament. She decided to push for her maximum goal. ¡°I need all of them, as well as a full complement of mundane and earthshaker shells, plus an artificer team to modify the shells and onboard cannons.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t have the range.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll refuel at Sabbicita, then Alkazaria. I¡¯ve arranged the deliveries already, you¡¯ll just need to send the maintenance crews ahead by train. I need the force assembled at Normarg by the 23rd.¡±

    Hirte leaned back in his chair. ¡°Dammit, Adria,¡± he said, then put his hand to his chin, brow furrowed.

    If it¡¯s this hard to get him to move even with his relationship with Adria and before he learns of Ibrahim¡¯s attack, it¡¯ll be impossible to get him to budge after the siege starts. That gives me even less time at Frostland¡¯s Gate.

    ¡°Can you get¡­ you implied you have some sway with the Deeps now. Can you¡­?¡± He waved his hand about vaguely.

    ¡°They¡¯re part of the problem right now. They¡¯re playing politics and being as obstructionist as they can. I¡¯ve been doing bureaucratic battle with them for a year now, and I couldn¡¯t even tell you because they¡¯ve intercepted my mail several times. They have to be cut out of the operation entirely.¡±

    Hirte practically choked. ¡°They what!?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand what in the five hells they¡¯re doing. I think some of them think they can weaponize it or something stupid. Maybe they forgot to read the holy texts for a few decades, or maybe they¡¯re just that out of touch.¡±

    ¡°All operations require liaising with Public Security for checking against intelligence. That¡¯s two laws you want me to break now. Adria, I lo¡ªI¡­ I respect you deeply, but I can¡¯t¡­ you¡¯re asking the impossible.¡±

    A phrase she¡¯d read in one of Hirte¡¯s letters popped into her head. ¡°¡®Life is impossible, and yet, here we are,¡¯¡± she said. She could see he still wasn¡¯t convinced. ¡°You know the arcane eruptions? This is the cause.¡± Maybe true, maybe not, she still didn¡¯t know, but she was going to use every trick she knew to convince him.

    Even love?

    A part of her churned and rebelled as she did it, but it was for something greater. She leaned forward, putting her hand on his desk and softening her gaze. She looked at him the way she¡¯d looked at Nicolus, all those years ago, the way she¡¯d looked Selesia, back before she understood anything about the difference between love and the wild emotions of a young heart. ¡°Hirte¡­¡± she said softly.

    Hirte looked away from her, then gradually brought his head up to meet her gaze. There were tears welling. He swallowed, then brought his hand to touch hers, tenderly.

    ¡°Damn you. Promise me¡­ when this is all over¡­ promise¡­¡±

    ¡°When it¡¯s all over,¡± she promised.

    ¡°Alright, Adria.¡± He took a deep breath in. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you again. Ah. Still waiting for a better world, the two of us.¡±

    Mirian nodded, then gently withdrew her hand.

    They quickly took care of the paperwork, and Mirian stamped the papers with Adria¡¯s signet ring, channeling slightly to activate it.

    As she left, she felt a churn of emotions. Part of it was disgust for herself. Part of it was a renewed hatred of Specter, who¡¯d played with this man¡¯s heart for years. Part of it was shock. It worked? The first time? She¡¯d expected to have to spend at least a few cycles working on convincing him.

    Another part of her wondered what to do next. I guess I can see if I can get the Praetorians to join the assembly, and start messing with Ibrahim. After all, the airships will be stranded if the saboteurs go through.

    Then she thought of another thing, a thought that joined the jumbled turmoil of disgust she still felt for manipulating someone with love. People do all sorts of things for love. Isn¡¯t that why I felt so strongly about this all? I loved my friends. I loved Torrviol. Why should I neglect something so powerful?

    After ten years, it was quite clear that the timeloop would keep her youthful for as long as it lasted. And from how people reacted differently to her when she was disguised, she¡¯d learned that she was beautiful. Or maybe she¡¯d finally realized it after Nicolus had whispered it enough times to her as they lay in bed together. Either way, it was something that had taken her far too long to fully understand. Just another tool, right? And a far kinder one than violence and intimidation.

    Still, it felt like playing with people¡¯s hearts was some gross violation beyond even killing. But then again, she¡¯d once felt horror at murdering Akanan spies, too. She looked back, and saw Hirte standing by his window, looking at her. She gave him the best smile she could manage, then continued on.

    When she returned, having shed her disguise, she told Nicolus the news. ¡°We¡¯re going to Alkazaria.¡±

    ***

    As the train approached the second capital, Mirian got her spellbook out.

    ¡°How do I keep him safe?¡± Sire Nurea asked, voice low.

    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t need to do anything,¡± Mirian said, looking out the window. ¡°The train wasn¡¯t attacked last cycle. Ibrahim probably knows exactly what it¡¯s usually carrying. I¡¯m getting ready just in case.¡±

    That didn¡¯t make Nurea any more comfortable, though she was putting on her usual stoic facade. Mirian was beginning to realize that behind her confidence was a deeper fear. Something bad had happened to her. Like me, she thought. Then, she remembered the memory curse. Maybe it was hiding something like that. If I break it, will I regret it? She didn¡¯t think so. She had always wanted to understand things. I¡¯d rather know.

    She watched the scrublands pass by, looking at the mountain in the distance. The last time she¡¯d been on this train with them, a leyline had erupted. And she¡¯d had that realization that it had happened to them countless times. Ominian, how did it come to this? she wondered again.

    Mirian stood, adjusting her disguise. ¡°Remember, you don¡¯t know me,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll meet you at your apartment when I have time.¡± It had turned out the Sacristars owned property in Alkazaria, too. It figured.

    The train started to slow, the primary spell engine silently reversing its kinetic push spells. Mirian headed to the front of the train. By the time she got there, the train was stopped and a delegation of soldiers were boarding the train to search it.

    ¡°Praetorian!¡± one said in surprise. Another did the standard check for illusion magic, and, finding nothing, gave a nod to the others.

    Mirian said, ¡°I need an escort to the Citadel. That is where my colleagues are, yes?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir,¡± one of them replied. ¡°We have to search the train, but as soon as we get to the station, we¡¯ll get you there.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Mirian said, and waited impatiently.

    There was nothing quite like having an escort of soldiers to get doors opened for you without questions. Mirian had experienced it in Torrviol as she commanded the defense, and here it made sure she made it into the inner conference room in record time.

    The main doors burst open, and she saw a gathering of Praetorians, military figures, civilians, and even a bishop. They surrounded a large nonagonal table. Strange, she thought. She¡¯d never seen the Luminates at a strategy meeting. Maybe he was coordinating healing?

    ¡°Adria!¡± one of the Praetorians said. She was darker skinned than Mirian, but had vivid hazel eyes. ¡°What in the five hells are you doing here?¡± She was speaking Cuelsin, which was almost strange at this point. Mirian had been out west so long she was used to Friian.

    Ah, shit. She knows me, but I don¡¯t know her. Or rather, she¡¯s one of the people in the letters, but I don¡¯t know which one. ¡°It¡¯s complicated. And as you know, I can¡¯t discuss all the details openly. Suffice to say, we have another crisis developing north of us I¡¯ve been sent to resolve.¡± It was the 10th of Solem, so Ibrahim¡¯s siege was just beginning.

    ¡°Another army?¡± one of the military figures asked, alarmed.

    ¡°No. Though I can¡¯t say if its better or worse. Still, I can render assistance for the time being.¡±

    ¡°Trinea, you know this Praetorian?¡± a woman asked. She was dressed in a commander¡¯s uniform. Unlike Hanaran, she kept her hair long and in two neat braids. That must be Commander Ayral, she thought. She¡¯d read enough about her in the newspapers to remember the name. And so that¡¯s Trinea. One of Adria¡¯s good friends. Of course, she¡¯s likely passingly familiar with most of the Praetorians. This will be tricky.

    ¡°Of course. We studied at academy together. She¡¯ll be a good addition to the team. Adria, you¡¯ll join my squad. We¡¯re planning a counter-attack now. Then we can talk about¡­ what you¡¯ve been up to.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Commander Ayral said. ¡°The more firepower the better.¡± She leaned over an illusionary map of the surrounding area and jabbed her finger down. ¡°They¡¯re digging in already, but we can strike them here and here. They don¡¯t seem to have much in the way of artillery or heavy casters¡ªjust a lot of rifles. Now¡¯s our chance to thin their numbers.¡±

    Mirian watched the discussion continue. The militias were directed to patrol the city and the eastern wall, while the main garrison would fortify the north and western sections. Meanwhile, the rest of the garrison would create a trench line to protect the northwest tracks, while another section of it would push the Persamans while the Praetorians struck.

    Overly cautious because they¡¯re still terrified by what just happened, even if they¡¯re not showing it. They¡¯re spreading themselves too thin by being indecisive and trying to do everything.

    For whatever reason, the bishop at the meeting kept looking at her.

    She finally interjected. ¡°Are we sure all of the initial force was wiped out?¡±

    One of the commander¡¯s aides said, ¡°I think the guard and citizens would have reported infiltrators by now. Everyone¡¯s on the lookout for those sand-devils.¡±

    Except, as soon as they put on Baracueli clothes, any Persaman is just going to look like a civilian, you idiot.

    ¡°Then it¡¯s still a possibility. We can¡¯t afford to underestimate a foe who¡¯s just shown you a capability you didn¡¯t know they had. They might have more.¡± She looked at the map. ¡°If I were a saboteur, I¡¯d go after the fossilized myrvite. Are there patrols by the warehouses?¡±

    A lieutenant said, ¡°The initial strike was looking to hit the Citadel. If there¡¯s survivors¡ªwhich I doubt¡ªthat¡¯s still their objective.¡±

    Mirian raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are we really going to assume Persamans are so primitive their soldiers can¡¯t yet be taught the idea of a ¡®contingency¡¯?¡± She glanced over at Trinea. The Praetorian was giving her a strange look. Damnit, she¡¯s suspicious. Adria didn¡¯t know strategy, even if she was close friends with the Aegrimere Commander.

    ¡°There¡¯s no need¡ª¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Commander Ayral said. ¡°We can¡¯t afford to be complacent, nor to underestimate our foe, especially now. Can the militias double the patrols by the docks?¡±

    ¡°We can,¡± one of the militia captains said.

    ¡°Good. I trust you can organize that yourself. Coordinate with the city guard. Praetorians, I¡¯ll trust you to plan your own attack.¡± Ayral then called over her aides to start organizing the details, and the meeting mostly adjourned.

    The Praetorians broke off into one of the adjoining rooms. Trinea looked back at Mirian, still concerned. ¡°We have a lot to talk about,¡± she said softly.

 Chapter 157 - A Plethora of Praetorians

    Mirian looked back as she left the room. The bishop was watching her. He didn¡¯t have any soul bindings. As soon as he noticed she¡¯d noticed him, he looked away.

    Does he know Adria? Or does he know something else?

    She would have to find out more later. For now, she followed Praetorian Trinea.

    They shut the door to the meeting room. Two of the Praetorians immediately started casting divination spells from their books, while another two cast infrared and illusion-detecting spells.

    ¡°Room¡¯s secure,¡± one of them reported.

    A man with dirty blond hair and several scars along his face rolled out a parchment map onto the table. From the strategy meeting, she knew his name was Voran. He had the rank of First Praetorian and was leader of the expedition. ¡°First strike team stays at Citadel and acts as a rapid-response team to any unforeseen developments. Teams two through five, we¡¯ll overwhelm them. Standard flying formations for high-danger unknown targets. Positions also standard. Team two and three will fly over the river in line, then adjust to norm. Two takes a shallow angle, three sharp. Four and five, north along our position, with four shallow, five sharp. Both teams sweep, then reassess target. I¡¯ll lead team two, Trinea, you lead four. Questions?¡±

    Shit, Mirian thought. I didn¡¯t understand half of that. What in the hells is a standard formation, or standard position? Does shallow or sharp mean a swooping attack, or the path across? None of the questions were ones she could actually ask, because Adria would know it all.

    The room was silent.

    ¡°Teams, ready up. Meet at the takeoff platform at nine. There¡¯s usually a prayer at that hour, so there¡¯s a chance we catch them with their pants down. That gives you a few hours to talk, rehearse, plan, rest¡ªwhatever your team needs. Just be ready to fly. What burns in the cage?¡±

    ¡°We are the flame!¡± came the chant.

    ¡°What do we bare?¡±

    ¡°The aegis and the hammer!¡±

    ¡°The crown of eyes rests on our head.¡±

    ¡°The guardians are ever watchful!¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t recognize the chants at all, though she could catch the religious references. Again, Trinea was looking at her. Some of the others might have noticed her conspicuous silence.

    ¡°Adria, what position?¡± Trinea asked as they broke off.

    ¡°If it¡¯s alright with you, I¡¯d like to improvise based on the tactical situation,¡± she said. ¡°There¡¯s some new tricks I learned up in Torrviol.¡±

    Trinea stared at Mirian, then said to the others, ¡°Our squad will use the usual positions. Rest up. Adria and I need to talk.¡± As soon as they were out in the hall, she said, ¡°Something¡¯s wrong. If I didn¡¯t know your face, I wouldn¡¯t recognize you. You didn¡¯t say the vow.¡±

    Mirian said, ¡°Is there a garden we can walk in? I noticed a critical flaw in the anti-spy procedure. Namely, it wouldn¡¯t have detected someone simply listening in with no magic.¡±

    Trinea¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°That¡¯s routine procedure, not¡ªwait, do you have reason to believe¡­?¡± Then she looked around. ¡°This way.¡±

    They made their way out the Citadel and into a garden on the east of the hill. Manors, spires, and temples were all laid out around the edge of the hill, looking out to the city. The garden was full of strange looking desert plants, leaves and stems all decorated with spikes and edges. Here, there were aloe plants, there, echeveria. There were jade plants, yucca trees, and a dozen succulents displaying vibrant colors she didn¡¯t know the names of. All of it formed a tapestry of texture and color, so different than the temperate forests of the west, but beautiful in ways they could never match. Like home.

    ¡°Adria, what is going on?¡±

    ¡°How have you been?¡± Mirian asked, giving her the gentle smile she¡¯d seen Specter use when she was performing as Adria.

    ¡°Fine. Well, enough, I suppose. I just miss my friend.¡±

    Mirian nodded. ¡°I know. I¡¯m sorry. I said there¡¯s a crisis developing in the north, and there is. But there¡¯s also a crisis out west. Have you been getting my letters?¡±

    ¡°Infrequently.¡±

    ¡°And what did they say?¡±

    ¡°You would know.¡±

    ¡°I do, but humor me.¡±

    ¡°Never much after those first few years. Mostly how busy you were. Mostly how you still couldn¡¯t talk about what you were working on, either assignment. And you stopped asking about¡­ was it the accident?¡±

    What accident? ¡°The project became political. As best I can tell, Deeps started intercepting my mail.¡±

    ¡°They what!? Adria, that¡¯s a crown offense! The Royal Couriers are sacred!¡±

    Mirian tried to put herself in the position of the dead Praetorian. ¡°The law only means anything if it can be enforced. I could never find out who. It was like trying to pin down a shadow. But I couldn¡¯t leave either, I had my duty.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have. It¡¯s kept me out of the know, though. Don¡¯t get me wrong, it¡¯s lucky you¡¯re all here, but¡­ why?¡±

    ¡°They think they found him.¡±

    It was clear Mirian was supposed to know who ¡®he¡¯ was. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t know¡ª¡±

    She turned toward her and spoke in a harsh whisper. ¡°Him! The necromancer! Atroxcidi!¡±

    Mirian¡¯s heart caught. ¡°Where?¡± Surely not in Alkazaria!

    ¡°In a Persaman town along the East Sound. Spotted twice, once in Falijmali, then again by the ruins in the north wastes. It was the strange arcane activity that made them pay attention to the area, and it worked.¡±

    ¡°Arcane activity. Like the eruptions?¡±

    Trinea nodded. ¡°What if he¡¯s the source?¡±

    Mirian blinked. ¡°But he can¡¯t be. The eruptions have happened as far as west Akana Praediar.¡±

    The other Praetorian kept her voice low. ¡°Maybe the rules are different when you reach that kind of power. Maybe he discovered an ancient machine. Either way, we eliminate a blade that¡¯s been hanging over Baracuel for generations. One less thing for you to worry about, at least. The Deeps are sure¡ª¡± Trinea hesitated, making the connection. ¡°Unless we¡¯ve been lied to.¡±

    ¡°Is there any independent confirmation of the sighting?¡±

    ¡°No. We¡¯ve done divination sweeps of the area, of course, but he¡¯s too clever for that. Wait¡­ is this connected to Dawn¡¯s Peace? Could this be how they did it?¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t think so. After all, if Ibrahim had an army and the arch-necromancer who beat an archmage and his entire cadre in a duel, not even the Praetorians could stop him. But she couldn¡¯t exactly reveal that she knew the Persamans had a Prophet without introducing the question of how she knew that.

    Instead, she changed the topic. ¡°There¡¯s another possible source of the arcane eruptions. We discovered a myrvite titan lying next to a leyline. From what we can tell, it¡¯s going to surface at the end of the month. Just north of us. That¡¯s why I¡¯m here. And the Deeps is running interference for some Gods-forsaken reason, so the resources I¡¯ve been able to assemble in such a short time frame are limited.¡±

    Trinea blinked at her. ¡°An Elder titan. From¡­ like from ancient times?¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°That can¡¯t be.¡±

    ¡°I wish that were true.¡±

    ¡°Then you have to tell Voran.¡±

    ¡°As soon as we¡¯re done with the assault. Now there¡¯s two things we need to save Alkazaria from.¡±

    Trinea looked at Mirian again, searching for something. ¡°You¡¯ve changed so much,¡± she said. Then she said, ¡°Did they give up on the relic? Who¡¯s watching over the hostage?¡±

    Mirian¡¯s mind raced. Hostage? What in the hells is she talking about?  ¡°I don¡¯t know. Someone,¡± she said, as calmly as she could. ¡°I was focused on the new development. There¡¯s no way they give up on the relic, especially now.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    They fell into an awkward silence as they walked. The grounds of the gardens were mostly empty. Some of the families had boarded up their windows, or hired workers to fortify their manors.

    ¡°There¡¯s so much to say,¡± Trinea said. ¡°I don¡¯t know where to begin. How¡¯s your partner?¡±

    Mirian knew at least a little of Adria¡¯s boyfriend in Palendurio from the letters. ¡°Well enough, considering the circumstances. When this is finally over, I¡¯ll go see him.¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t come see you?¡±

    She sighed softly the way she¡¯d heard Specter do it. ¡°His own circumstances. It¡¯s been a tough few years.¡±

    ¡°You should have let me come and see you last year. I still don¡¯t understand.¡±

    Because that was Specter trying to keep her cover from getting blown, she knew. ¡°I was trying to keep you away from the politics. But I couldn¡¯t just say that, because I didn¡¯t know if they¡¯d open the letter and know I was on to them.¡±

    Trinea looked at her again, brow furrowed.

    I¡¯m not saying things the way she would, Mirian knew. Damn, but it¡¯s hard to change a speech pattern. ¡°How have you been? Still flying solo?¡±

    This time, the Praetorian¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°A pun. A pun!? Who are you and what have you done with Adria.¡±

    Mirian¡¯s heart beat fast, but she kept her face passive. ¡°Unintentional, I assure you.¡±

    ¡°It better be! Ah, they¡¯re fine. My old man finally passed away. We all saw it coming. Still hurts, though.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She wracked her mind for details from the letters she¡¯d studied. ¡°And your brother?¡±

    ¡°Still a fool, I¡¯m afraid.¡± In a low voice she said, ¡°The less I hear from him, the better. If I suspect he¡¯s getting involved in something criminal, I¡¯ll have to turn him in myself.¡±

    They chatted softly for a time, continuing their walk. Mirian did her best to keep things vague and refer to the letters, but often she had to dodge a question entirely. The minutes seemed to tick by too slowly, but she felt it would be even more suspicious to find an excuse to run off.

    ¡°You got a new spellbook,¡± Trinea noted.

    ¡°There was an accident with the relic. I was not happy,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m still working on this one.¡±

    Another quizzical glance. ¡°You didn¡¯t just get headquarters to deliver a new one?¡±

    They can do that? Shit. ¡°No, I needed several spells that weren¡¯t in there for the wards. And the Academy paid for it, so there was no point.¡±

    ¡°You used to be such a stickler for procedure,¡± she said.

    ¡°Everyone changes,¡± she said, making a mental note to try to be more of a stickler. Except I hardly know any of the Praetorian¡¯s rules and procedures. Wasn¡¯t exactly a class on that!

    ¡°Do they, though?¡± Trinea asked. ¡°I¡¯ve tried to get my brother to change for years, and he never has.¡±

    ¡°Disillusionment. Things are supposed to work a certain way, and they didn¡¯t.¡± Better phrased, she congratulated herself with. Concise, and without conditionals, like Adria would do.

    And the conversation continued. At last, mercifully, the belltowers chimed throughout the city and Trinea said, ¡°Well, we better head back to the Citadel. Takeoff is in an hour, and I know you like to be early.¡±

    ¡°Appreciated,¡± she said.

    ***

    Mirian had seen the assault formations from her tower apartment last cycle, so she at least had some idea of what to expect. It had looked to her like the lead three casters rained down fire, while the back three used defensive shields on the full formation.

    Trinea, as a magnetic and force specialist, was leading from the rear. Mirian¡¯s heart was pounding. For all that she¡¯d done, she¡¯d never done this. She also knew Ibrahim was anticipating the attack, though from what she¡¯d seen, he wasn¡¯t able to stop it.

    In synchronized motion, the second team all raised their levitation wands as one, then flew up into the air together, keeping their position and speed consistent.

    Shit, Mirian thought. Well, if they find me out and kill me, there¡¯s always next cycle. This isn¡¯t the safest way to learn, but it is the fastest.

    Team three took off next, heading south with the others.

    ¡°Ready,¡± Trinea said.

    Mirian did her best to imitate the coordinated motion. When they took off though, she accelerated too fast, then had to drop back, but dropped back too far. With small adjustments, she was able to get back into formation. One of the other Praetorians glanced at her.

    ¡°It¡¯s been a few years,¡± she said above the wind.

    The fifth team took off behind them. Mirian glanced back, only to get slightly out of position and have to adjust her course. Twice more, she briefly fell out of formation. Fortunately, only one of the Praetorians at the back seemed to notice. Beneath her, the outskirts of the city faded into scrubland. She could see the beginning of trenches carved into the landscape. The fifth group peeled away, heading towards the river at a new angle. Ah, answers that, she thought.

    As they approached Ibrahim¡¯s army, she felt the anticipation surging through her.

    ¡°Shields!¡± Trinea shouted.

    Instantly, the Praetorians on the wings of the formation cast shield spells,

    ¡°Enemy in cover!¡± a Praetorian in the front shouted next. She must be the one using the divination spell. ¡°Marking!¡±

    Light spells bloomed across the battlefield. As they did, gunfire erupted with the suddenness and intensity that she knew had to come from foreknowledge. Spellpiercer bullets streamed upward, but while they cut through the force shields easily, Trinea¡¯s magnetic shield caught them.

    ¡°Intense fire! Flicker maneuver!¡±

    Mirian glanced around, trying to figure out what that meant. Two of the Praetorians on offense switched to defensive shields, and the entire group started moving up. Right, like a moon flicker. Sort of. She joined them.

    ¡°Manticore assault,¡± Trinea said. The Praetorians all sent down extremely fast moving fireball spells, exploding in a grid all at once. As the blooms of fire lit up the twilight, she called out, ¡°Desert screen!¡± and the arcanists used a disperse particles spell to turn the smoke and dust that had been kicked up into a fog.

    ¡°Reform, standard assault,¡± their squad leader barked out. ¡°Crossing in two minutes.¡±

    They came down low again, wands blazing, this time directing fire towards the light spells that marked the enemy. As they came in, their shields flared as bullets peppered them. Unable to see with all the dust, Mirian cast a night vision spell to better look at the force dispersal.

    There were several artillery pieces. One of them was pointed at them.

    I saw no artillery last time.

    She cast a magnetic push spell on the barrel, deflecting the gun, and just in time. There was the crash and flash of it firing. A few dozen feet to their right, the shell burst in the air, sending out shrapnel and lightning. Even with the Praetorian shields, she heard shouts as the the metal fragments pierced both the magnetic and force shields. The crackling lightning lingered in the air, but the outer grounding spells prevented the bolts from electrocuting them.

    If that had hit the formation dead on, it might have killed the whole group.

    Ibrahim was still iterating, it seemed.

    The Praetorians retaliated immediately, sending down fireball and magnetic burst spells until the artillery piece was mangled and the Persaman crew were burnt husks. Mirian joined them, backing away slightly from the grounding spells so she could send down chain lightning into the trenches. The haze below crackled as it leapt about.

    ¡°Trinea to First Praetorian. Just avoided a thunderburst shell. Recommending an immediate withdrawal.¡± There was a pause as she waited for the response over the remote private communication spell. ¡°Withdraw! Circle north, then low pass. Second wing, signal incoming to the soldiers as we approach their line. Withdraw! Withdraw!¡±

    As they approached the Alkazarian garrison establishing its line, the two Praetorians let out signal lights in rapid succession. The signal would have been decided that morning. Which means there¡¯s a high likelihood Ibrahim knows what they are. Another point of change to consider.

    Fortunately, even if he could predict the signals, he couldn¡¯t exploit it yet. They made it back to the Citadel without incident, the groups landing one by one.

    Voran immediately strode over to Commander Ayral, who was there with her delegation. ¡°Your diviners said there were no artillery. Artillery just almost took out one of my squads.¡±

    Ayral¡¯s eyes went wide and she turned to one of the aides by her. Chief Arcanist, if I remember the insignias.

    The Chief Arcanist in turn looked at his subordinates. One of them shrugged her shoulders¡ªinadvisably.

    ¡°That¡¯s the fucking response!? We could have been killed out there. Is your whole team incompetent?¡±

    ¡°Sir, we¡¯ll do a full investigation into our procedure,¡± the Chief Arcanist said, shaking, then shot his subordinate a withering glare. ¡°They may have been, ah, obscuring it. Not that I¡¯m making excuses, Sir! It won¡¯t happen again.¡±

    ¡°It damn well better not. Until then, we¡¯re taking over divination. Third team, you¡¯re on observation tonight, first team, rapid response. We just burned a lot of mana for not a lot of effect. Commander Ayral, I¡¯m not here to tell you your business, but we aren¡¯t doing any sorties beyond the walls until the enemy artillery is silenced. You understand? This damn war isn¡¯t the only thing threatening Baracuel.¡±

    The First Praetorian stormed off, barking something that sounded vaguely like, ¡°¡ªand recover mana!¡± before a slammed door obscured the rest of his sentence.

    Mirian said, ¡°Probably best to explain the situation to him tomorrow,¡± to Trinea. ¡°It can wait another day. When the airships arrive from Fort Aegrimere, that¡¯ll probably cheer him up.¡±

    Trinea looked perplexed. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I ordered airships to support my own operation, but they can help here first.¡± Commander Ayral headed back inside to debrief with his own staff, while the third team of Praetorians headed back towards the wall¡ªwalking, though, to conserve mana. I wonder what their capacities are? She¡¯d been practicing and testing herself regularly when she had the time and opportunity, but she hadn¡¯t had a chance to research how that compared to other elite arcanists.

    ¡°I¡¯ll see you in the morning,¡± Mirian said to Trinea, mind starting to wander. She headed down the hall, making her way to the quarters she¡¯d been assigned in the Citadel.

    She was opening the door when she realized someone was behind her.

    ¡°Trinea?¡± she asked, puzzled, because she hadn¡¯t heard the footsteps. A muffle sound spell? But why would she do that, unless¡­

    Trinea strode forward and shoved her hard so that she stumbled back into her room, then drew her wand and pointed it at Mirian¡¯s head.

    Unless she figured out I¡¯m not Adria.

    ¡°What the fuck is going on and who the fuck are you?¡± Trinea said.

    Ah, shit, Mirian thought.

 Chapter 158 - Gathering Forces

    Trinea¡¯s fireball wand was a nice one. Judging by its size and shape, it probably had two parallel conduits in it. And, because it was pointed right at her face, she could see the outer glyphwork was impeccable. Even with spell resistance, at that range and intensity, Mirian was going to lose her face.

    Mirian thought about denying it, but this was Adria¡¯s good friend. It would be like if someone tried to impersonate Lily; she knew her too well.

    ¡°I said, who the fuck are you?¡± Trinea hissed again.

    ¡°I can tell you,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Just hear me out, okay?¡±

    Trinea¡¯s jaw was clenched and her eyes blazing. She needed to phrase what she was going to say carefully.

    ¡°Deeps agent Nikoline Brunn killed her entire cell and murdered Adria three years ago. She was impersonating her and sending you letters until I killed her. I¡¯m a Prophet. So is the man you¡¯re trying to fight out there.¡±

    Trinea¡¯s eyes were brimming with tears. They started to streak down her cheeks, but she didn¡¯t look away from Mirian, didn¡¯t blink. ¡°Bullshit. Adria wouldn¡¯t let¡­ she wouldn¡¯t. She was too smart. Too brave. Too good.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said softly. ¡°I never knew her. But I know what it¡¯s like.¡±

    The Praetorian jabbed her wand closer to Mirian so it was right by her eye. ¡°Bullshit you know what it¡¯s like!¡±

    She did, but Mirian understood that she couldn¡¯t argue Trinea out of her grief. ¡°I¡¯m going to take a step back and summon a sword, okay? Not to harm you, just to show you,¡± she said.

    ¡°If you try anything,¡± Trinea said but left the threat unfinished.

    Mirian closed her eyes as she let Eclipse manifest in her hand, point down. As she did, she also manifest her mythril amulet.

    Trinea looked at the sword, then at Mirian.

    ¡°The reason the artillery was positioned perfectly to wipe out your squad is because Ibrahim Kalishah is living this month over and over until he can command the perfect battle. When this all started, Dawn¡¯s Peace was annihilated. So was I. So was my very good friend and roommate. I¡¯m sorry for deceiving you. I know how much it hurts. But I need you, and I need the Praetorians. This was the only way.¡±

    The woman took a step back, then collapsed against the door. She didn¡¯t weep, or cry, or scream. She just looked shocked. Then she blinked, clenched her teeth, and stood.

    The resilience and control of a Praetorian, Mirian thought.

    ¡°Who are you?¡± Trinea said again, though her wand was back in its sheath.

    ¡°Mirian. A random student from the Torrviol Academy who you¡¯ve never heard of. And the Seventh Prophet of the Ominian.¡±

    ¡°Prophets. How can there be more than one?¡±

    She sighed, relaxing a little. Didn¡¯t think that would work. ¡°Great question. If I figure it out, I¡¯ll let you know. But my best lead right now for why the world ends is the Elder titan that¡¯s going to emerge at the end of the month. That part wasn¡¯t a lie.¡±

    ¡°The world¡­ what?¡±

    ¡°Ends. On the 6th of Duala. That¡¯s what I¡¯m trying to stop. And if I have to cross some ethical boundaries to save the world, then, well, it¡¯ll have been worth it. I need your help.¡±

    She didn¡¯t explain everything. There were far too many details at this point, but she laid out the basics.

    ¡°This is all going to happen again. That¡¯s inevitable. I need to know what I can do better.¡±

    Trinea was looking for other possibilities to explain what was going on. Mirian was used to that by now, so she gave her time. But she knew the contents of the letters, could summon a mythril sword with an adamantium edge, and told a story that made a lot of things line up. Trinea had paced about as she talked, but now she was just sitting there again. A Praetorian of all people would recognize mythril and what that meant about Mirian¡¯s knowledge of the Luminate Order¡¯s great secrets.

    Mirian waited patiently. That Trinea hadn¡¯t blown her head off with a fireball was a good sign that she could listen to reason.

    ¡°I can¡¯t look at you like that,¡± Trinea said finally. ¡°Wearing her body. It¡¯s wrong.¡±

    Mirian didn¡¯t have enough charged soul repositories to undo and redo the bindings, so she cast an illusion spell that resembled herself enough to pass. She didn¡¯t bother changing her eyes or uniform, though.

    ¡°Just some girl,¡± Trinea muttered. ¡°Adria was no good at lightning spells,¡± she said. ¡°And she always took 3rd position in the formation.¡± She shook her head. ¡°You killed the monster that did this to her?¡±

    ¡°Every cycle. And no matter how this ends, her murderer dies. You have my word.¡±

    ¡°What do you need?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I¡¯d like this to stay a secret. Both Ibrahim and the Akanan Prophet are looking for me, and they don¡¯t have Baracuel¡¯s best interest in mind. The thing I need right now is how to act like a better Praetorian.¡±

    ***

    Mirian awoke to the pleasant news that the militias had foiled a dastardly plot by Persaman infiltrators to burn up the fossilized myrvite warehouse. She then created a forged letter¡ªwritten in childish Adamic, because that was all she could manage¡ªthat both detailed a Persaman plan of attack and implied they¡¯d seized key doctrinal documents in one of the forts. In short, the enemy could predict Baracueli attacks. Mirian claimed it had come from a militia member who hadn¡¯t realized what he¡¯d found. According to Trinea, Adria had known basic Adamic, so that at least wouldn¡¯t be questioned.

    When she produced it for Commander Ayral, the garrison commander also remembered her advice on the warehouse, and sent out orders across the line to rearrange their forces and timing.

    If any of the command staff had been able to read Adamic, it would have raised a lot of questions. Her plan to pass it off as the work of a nearly illiterate enemy officer, though, wasn¡¯t necessary. With that done, the battle began to rapidly shift.

    When the Fort Aegrimere airships arrived a few days later, flying high above the battlefield, raining down artillery on the enemy, wild cheers erupted along the walls, and the news quickly spread throughout the city. As they landed in the plaza north of the Citadel, she was surprised to see Commander Hirte himself leading the operation. When he saw her, he gave her a nod of acknowledgment.

    In the meantime, Trinea and Mirian had ¡®practice sessions,¡¯ which was just the veteran Praetorian giving her a crash course on formations and protocols.

    Over the next three days, the airships circled around the Persaman lines, destroying the train supplying them with logistics and helping relieve the besieged garrisons in the southern forts. While the enemy logistics and troop movements were cut to ribbons and their lines suppressed by artillery, the Praetorians sortied out several more times to drop precise fire. Following that, the garrison and Baracueli reinforcements overran their lines, forcing the Persaman army to abandon its position.

    Commander Ayral then led the counterattack, pushing the Persmans all the way back to the forts. When those were retaken, Baracueli reinforcements poured into the passes, assembling field fortifications to supplement those forts.

    Ibrahim¡¯s siege was over, though the time traveler himself never surfaced.

    ***

    After the tide turned, it was Commander Hirte who sought her out. They met on the battlements as the sun set.

    ¡°You came here yourself,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°When I heard the news of the attack, I had to. Fort Aegrimere will do fine without me,¡± he said, tone light.

    Ironic. Now Fort Aegrimere might fall due to his absence. ¡°It¡¯s not over yet,¡± she said. ¡°The titan awaits us.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Hirte said, but she could tell his mind wasn¡¯t on that. Together, they looked out over the walls, past the white spires, past the houses and docks, to where the horizon was still bright along the Southern Range, all the way to the distant Casnevar Range to their west. Above that strip of orange, the sky was pale, until, like the corpses strewn across the battlefield, the light bled out into black.

    ¡°This is my favorite view in the Citadel,¡± he said, smiling. ¡°Not because it sees the farthest, but because it feels more real. Behind you, the high walls of the inner fortress. In front of you, the city, and the people you¡¯re sworn to protect. All around, the Gods and temples, whose grace we spread, whose light we follow, and the great spires, pointing to the stars they guard. Unsurpassed in beauty. Except, perhaps, by you.¡±

    Mirian involuntarily blushed. She¡¯d grown used to Nicolus¡¯s compliments, and over the cycles, they¡¯d grown so predictable they stopped feeling genuine, even if they were. This was new and unexpected, for once.

    But it also wasn¡¯t something meant for her. It¡¯s meant for Adria.

    The two feelings mixed together into an unrecognizable alchemy. She didn¡¯t know what to do.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Adria!¡± Trinea called, and Mirian had to stop herself from breathing a sigh of relief. ¡°Ah, Commander Hirte, isn¡¯t it? Apologies, I need to borrow my colleague. After-action report protocol is very strict.¡±

    ¡°Another time,¡± Mirian said quietly, and looked back as she left.

    As soon as they were around the corner, Trinea whispered, ¡°What in the five hells was that? Are you just going around ruining her reputation now?¡±

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t know when it happened,¡± Mirian said. ¡°She exchanged frequent letters with Hirte, but I didn¡¯t know they were having an affair until I met him at the fort.¡±

    Anger flashed in Trinea¡¯s eyes. ¡°Adria wouldn¡¯t have.¡±

    ¡°Maybe she didn¡¯t. Maybe Specter did. I don¡¯t know, I was busy taking introductory classes at the time.¡±

    ¡°Adria wouldn¡¯t have,¡± Trinea repeated.

    ¡°Is that truly what you¡¯re worried about? You learn the world is ending, and you¡¯re worried about one indiscretion?¡±

    ¡°What else is there?¡± she snapped.

    That gave Mirian pause. What else indeed. ¡°I wish the truths of the world weren¡¯t so painful.¡± They walked in silence, until Mirian said, ¡°Is there actually an after-action report?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she said.

    ¡°Who does it go to?¡±

    ¡°Intelligence compiles them and¡ªah five hells. The Deeps. It goes to a nice little room in the Baracuel Intelligence Gallery in Palendurio where they make sure we aren¡¯t indulging in any excesses of power. Blood of the fucking Gods! I wish I didn¡¯t know. I wish I didn¡¯t know their piece of shit agent didn¡¯t¡ªdamn!¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll sabotage the report. It only has to be delayed a week for it to be useless to anyone,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Then¡­ in future cycles, you won¡¯t have to know Adria is dead. I can do that for you. But I¡¯ll need your help.¡±

    Trinea stopped and closed her eyes. Mirian watched the churn of emotions running through her. Then she said, ¡°Yes. I¡¯d rather not know.¡±

    Blessed ignorance, Mirian thought. She already had the list of questions she still needed to ask Trinea in her mind.

    ***

    The meeting with First Praetorian Voran took place in the heart of Alkazaria Citadel. By then, Commander Ayral had returned from the front as well, and attended with her command staff.

    ¡°Thank you for meeting with me. I will be brief,¡± Mirian said, mimicking Adria¡¯s soft but concise style.

    ¡°There¡¯s a change,¡± one of the other Praetorians quipped, which was a good sign.

    ¡°The secret project in Torrviol discovered an Elder titan burrowed north of Normarg. It will emerge at the end of the month. Political considerations have impeded my ability to gather an official response. I need your help in destroying it before it moves south.¡±

    She looked around the room. Most of the attendees could regulate their emotions, but one of Ayral¡¯s staff had his jaw open.

    ¡°Should I elaborate?¡±

    Commander Ayral subtly elbowed the lieutenant with his jaw open and said, ¡°Please.¡± Voran just grunted.

    Mirian snapped her fingers, and Nicolus¡ªin the uniform of a soldier¡ªwheeled in the same style of divination device she¡¯d shown Calisto. It was convenient; some time during the siege, he¡¯d enlisted on his own volition, so it wasn¡¯t even really a disguise.

    ¡°I don¡¯t recognize these glyphs,¡± Voran said as he examined it. There were murmurs of assent around the room.

    ¡°New discoveries,¡± she said. ¡°This device is courtesy of Professor Torres. A long-range myrvite detector, using the light spectrum to code for intensity. Current scale is one meter to one mile,¡± she said, and activated the device. The illusionary map flickered across the table. Dots of faint pink and orange lit around the gray prisms of buildings, with a pair of yellow dots west of the city. ¡°Desert drakes,¡± she said, pointing. ¡°Eating carcasses. The spellwards will continue to fail around the city as the arcane eruptions intensify.¡±

    The room grew quiet. ¡°Eruptions?¡± Commander Ayral asked.

    ¡°We can discuss it later,¡± Voran said curtly. ¡°So this beast is the cause? But how can they be so far-flung?¡±

    ¡°The professors on the project hypothesize a connection to the leylines. Adjusting scale to one meter to a hundred miles.¡±

    An intense violet dot bloomed on the map.

    Mirian found the reactions vaguely amusing. It was too much like the Ennecus meeting. There were patterns to how people thought, and certain ways to present information that made a point more clearly. She hadn¡¯t even intended to be particularly manipulative, but the result was the same.

    ¡°So¡­ what¡¯s that?¡± Ayral¡¯s lieutenant asked, and this time, Ayral wasn¡¯t subtle when she jabbed an elbow into him. ¡°Ow! What was tha¡ªoh! Oh, is that the Elder titan? Didn¡¯t the First Prophet fight one of those?¡±

    One of the Praetorians snorted, while another suppressed a smile at the unintentional levity.

    ¡°Yes. I have the preliminary logistics organized, including fuel for the airships waiting at Normarg. I also need crack riflemen, modifications to the airship artillery as laid out in these documents, and as many spellcasters who can hit 70 myr as possible. We have a week to assemble our force at the emergence point.¡±

    ¡°That limits how many troops I can send severely,¡± Ayral said. ¡°That, and the Persamans. We can¡¯t let them overrun the passes or forts again.¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Mirian said.

    The First Praetorian narrowed his eyes. ¡°Adria, your mission is secure while you do this?¡±

    The Divine Monument? Not at all. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sure of it.¡±

    That didn¡¯t seem to assuage Voran, but he nodded in acceptance.

    It was the 21st, the same day the Prime Minister of Akana Praediar would die. By the time anyone here found out about the war that was coming, it would be too late.

    ***

    The trains moved everyone to Normarg, dumping both soldiers and oxen out. The airships met them, landing in a nearby field that was lying fallow. The confused villagers were happy to take coin to load up the skiffs and bags, though they were suspicious as to why so many soldiers were moving through their town. Mirian had been pleased to discover the strike force numbered just over a hundred, all either crack shots with myrvite killing experience or experienced arcanists. And that didn¡¯t count the Praetorians or the airships.

    There were no myrvite hunters this time; Mirian would recruit them in future cycles. This was a trial run, for testing one piece of the puzzle. She was still a bit shocked she was able to not only get the airships, but all the Praetorians. No wonder Specter chose Adria to impersonate. Her reputation was well established.

    They departed the village that same day, using packs on the oxen and the airships to carry supplies. The airships would skip ahead to each campsite, landing to conserve fuel. That brought the estimated travel time down to two and a half days, which would get them there on the sunset of the 27th¡ªjust in time.

    Next came the hard part.

    She had no intention of fighting the Elder titan. All that would do is prepare it for future cycles. She couldn¡¯t actually use its catalyst now. She had to assemble the rest of the pieces of the puzzle.

    How to break the news to them all that there will be no fight?

    Announcing that they were all going to die in six days probably wasn¡¯t a good idea. Or rather, it seemed only fair, but it couldn¡¯t be the focus. Perhaps the truth, but explaining how valuable their contributions have been. After all, what they¡¯ve all done is necessary to save Alkazaria, necessary to save Enteria¡ªjust not in the way they think.

    Inspiration struck her. She started scribing an illusion spell, a much more elaborate one than anything else she¡¯d made. As she worked, it filled two full pages, and that was with her usual tight glyphwork. A mere construct of light wouldn¡¯t be sufficient for the effect she wanted, either, so she continued on a third page, including a wind spell and incorporating a project sound spell to cause a deep rumbling.

    She talked to Nicolus, too, who had insisted on joining the expedition, telling him the outlines of her plan.

    If I¡¯m to tell them I¡¯m a Prophet, they need to see a Prophet.

    On the evening of the 27th, she was ready.

    Mirian released the runic bindings disguising her as they assembled next to the hill. She cast amplify voice and stood facing the gathered crowd so that there was plenty of open space behind her.

    ¡°Faithful of Baracuel!¡± she shouted. Embracing her focus, she cycled her soul-energy through the depressions the disguise bindings had left, letting her true self emerge. The transformation began to take hold. As it did, she levitated into the air, casting a golden light spell behind her so she was backlit.

    The airship crews, the soldiers, and the Praetorians were all before her in the camp.

    ¡°All is not as it seems. The Ominian has appointed new Prophets, for a new crisis is at hand. In seven days, the Divir Moon will crash down to Enteria. The arcane eruptions are the precursor. The myrvite titan resting below us is a harbinger. Certain doom will befall Baracuel.¡±

    There were mutterings in the crowd. Confusion. Anger.

    ¡°But I have not assembled you here for no purpose. The Ominian¡¯s hand still guards Enteria. By his will, time is reset. I am Mirian Castrella, the next Prophet of the Ominian, and I will live this month again. I have assembled you here as part of a grand plan of the Elder Gods, one that will see you through this catastrophe.¡±

    This time, she heard gasps of disbelief, but still anger.

    Nicolus stepped forward, shouting, ¡°I know her. She was my classmate in Torrviol, and now the family of Sacristar knows her as the guardian of Baracuel!¡±

    Mirian nodded to him, then continued. ¡°For this cycle, you have done your duty. Your readiness is all I can ask for. But the Elder titan cannot be defeated in this cycle. For it is too close to the Gods; it too has power over time. But you¡ªyou are the soldiers of hope. It is by your courage and action that we will make a breakthrough.¡±

    The wind stirred, letting her hair fly about. She cast another light spell, this one silver, and summoned Eclipse. ¡°This is the blade of the Fourth Prophet! On it, I swear to you this¡ªthat as you have done your duty to Baracuel, I will do mine. I will remember your courage and faith, and one day, we will face the Ominian together, and say to Them¡ªthat we are all guardians of Enteria!¡±

    And with that, Mirian rose into the sky and cast her newest spell: visage of the Ominian.

    Her spellbook flared with light as she poured mana into the glyphs. A deep rumble shook the ground, and the wind stirred as the first parts of the spell took hold. Then, the light behind Mirian shifted, and a colossal form emerged behind her¡ªone of stone skin, nested with fractal spirals of teeth and eyes. As it did, there was a gasp from the crowd. Upon its shoulders and arms were two dozen black needles. It stood, higher than the hills, casting a great shadow in the evening light. On its brow was that crown of laurels made of fire, and in its chest, a beating heart. In deep pulses, that heartbeat sounded across the hill.

    Mirian increased the intensity of her golden light spell so that it silhouetted her and Eclipse in front of the illusionary Ominian and lit up the construct of light. She rose up slowly, arms spread wide.

    Then, she let the illusion fade into shadows, and settled back down to the ground.

    ¡°Prophet,¡± Nicolus said, and knelt.

    Trinea stepped forward next, even though Mirian had given her no instructions. ¡°I have tested the blade. It¡¯s made of the sacred materials. I name her Prophet.¡± She knelt.

    Dozens more soldiers knelt, more joining as they saw their friends and colleagues doing the same.

    It was the Praetorians who mostly stood. Of all the arcanists here, they were experts in all types of casting. They likely knew what she had done was little more than fancy spellcasting. She looked to them, waiting for a response.

    To her surprise, it was First Praetorian Voran who approached. ¡°Mirian, eh?¡± he said. When she nodded, he said, ¡°Fate¡¯s a funny thing, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    And he knelt.

    Mirian¡¯s heart swelled.

    It had worked. For one cycle, at least, they wouldn¡¯t die on a note of despair, but of hope.

 Chapter 159 - Refining the Route

    That night, Mirian had them chain the oxen to the clearing right next to where Apophagorga would emerge. If she was right, she hoped the beast would grow comfortable finding the occasional snack.

    She ordered the expedition back. Some decided to stay to witness the titan emerging, even though she warned them they might not survive. Most left, disappointed, but still hopeful.

    The last days were the kind that felt surreal. Strangers would come up to her and talk. Sometimes they asked her questions, sometimes they wanted to tell their own story. They would praise her, or thank her, and she couldn¡¯t help but feel like she was above them in some way¡ªor less than human. Other soldiers left or scattered, off to spend their last moments with a loved one, embroiled in hedonism, or often, in thoughtful prayer.

    As the final hours approached and the remaining soldiers watched the world end, she continued probing her soul with her new tri-bonded spells. The hole, it seemed, was deeper than her soul was thick.

    And it seemed there was something in there.

    ***

    For the next two cycles, Mirian worked primarily on coordinating both the hiring of the myrvite hunters and getting the Praetorians and soldiers to move into position with them. The first time she tried organizing both, she arrived later in Alkazaria, and was only just in time to stop the destruction of the fossilized myrvite stores. The next time, she worked on refining the first days of the cycle, and got Nicolus to do more of the paperwork and help recruit Calisto. It didn¡¯t need to be her going down to negotiate trade contracts or open bank accounts. She had to focus on the parts that only she could do.

    That got her to Alkazaria early. Then, she could really disrupt the attack. She broke apart the southern railroad tracks and made sure the western gate was closed. The resulting train derailment killed plenty of the Persaman soldiers outright. The initial surprise attack failed utterly. Stopping the siege after that was trivial.

    For a third attempt, she got Torres and Jei to leave Torrviol and join her. Jei was easy to convince. Torres, it took some doing, but she eventually yielded.

    She rushed down to Alkazaria again and started making preparations for the attack on the city.

    Only¡ªthere was no attack.

    That concerned Mirian. On one hand, it was a blessing; dealing with the siege took a great deal of time. On the other hand, it was worrying. Unlike Troytin, it seemed Ibrahim was much quicker to make drastic changes if something wasn¡¯t working.

    Does he know it¡¯s me? Does he know about Troytin? Or was he so focused he didn¡¯t even realize there were any other Prophets until now? And what is he doing?

    She had no answers, and she had no intention of moving into Persama. If that¡¯s where Atroxcidi was, he could stay there.

    The change made convincing the Praetorians to join her significantly harder. Without Jei and Torres, she probably would have failed entirely.

    Once again, she left a tasty snack for Apophagorga, and shouted a message of hope to her assembled fighters. Soon, she promised. Everything was falling into place.

    The problem now was the Frostland¡¯s Gate Vault

    ***

    The next cycle, she left Troytin plenty of surprises, then started hiking back to the small northern town.

    Even if she barely spent any time sabotaging Troytin¡¯s efforts in Torrviol, she just wasn¡¯t moving fast enough to fit everything in. Ibrahim was missing, but she was still on a deadline; if the Praetorians didn¡¯t encounter his army, they were still bound to leave Alkazaria to hunt the arch-necromancer. She had to be in the second capital before they left.

    Organizing the hunters, recruiting the soldiers, and then going through all the puzzles¡ªit would take several days.

    The route is just too long.

    Then she thought, the route through the greater horrors is too long. There¡¯s too many puzzles, and I can¡¯t fight the beasts. But what about the other route?

    They had all guessed there was a second way to the Vault. It problem meant going through the death-trap obstacle course, the one that had seemed like a way to waste too many cycles.

    Worth looking into, she thought. The first route had emphasized strength and intellect, requiring both combat and puzzle solving. There¡¯s no way I could get anyone else to join me on that route. But maybe¡­ is it possible to do alone?

    If that was the case, mana management would be her next problem. I can levitate to speed up the journey, but then I¡¯d arrive with almost no mana. Even using three mana elixirs, which as many as I¡¯m willing to risk, I¡¯d either be short on mana for the trials, or I¡¯d have to waste time resting.

    As she walked, she tried to think of all the spells she would need. Is there a way to combine them? Minimize them? Damn, but there¡¯s so many, and they take so long to scribe! But in order to get a proper spellbook¡­

    Then she stopped walking. She already had the solution. There was a perfectly good spellbook, full of hundreds of spells, right in Torrviol. Better yet, using that spellbook would make Troytin¡¯s life hellish.

    Mirian, you¡¯re so brilliant.

    That would save her hours and hours of time, spread out through the cycle. Critically, it would save her hours of time at the beginning of the cycle. And if I can¡¯t levitate the whole time, why not do what I did when I first visited Arrirorba? I¡¯ll ride an eximontar.

    There were plenty of eximontar in Torrviol. The fastest one was Cassius¡¯s.

    Might as well steal that too. Then I¡¯ll be off to steal gold and treasures from the Corrmiers, then steal the Holy Pages from the Sanctum, then it¡¯ll be time to steal all the myrvite hunters and Praetorians. My father would be so disappointed in me.

    Bitterly, she thought, well, who knows about my real father. Maybe he¡¯s a hardened criminal and would be fine with it. There was still that memory curse to deal with, but it seemed the best way to deal with that would be to get rid of Troytin first so she could freely investigate the Deeps. Arenthia had said they were the ones who had likely done it. One step at a time.

    As Mirian camped out on the Littenord Pass, she watched the wyverns swoop across the sky. Why is flying so easy for them? Wyverns and birds don¡¯t need mana.

    Then her brow furrowed. Huh. Designs started to churn through her head.

    ***

    After a few days in the village, Mirian met Beatrice and her team outside one of the craft shops.

    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

    ¡°What were you doing in there?¡± Beatrice asked.

    ¡°I hired his team and the artificer to see if they can make a design in a day.¡±

    ¡°Is that what the wyverns you brought into town are for?¡±

    ¡°Yup,¡± she said.

    ¡°Why not make it yourself?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯m going to be busy. Let¡¯s head down.¡±

    They took the elevator platform down the stone shaft, then headed through the Labyrinth. Mirian didn¡¯t bother checking the maps, which annoyed Cediri to no end.

    ¡°That bundle of supplies for opening up the early puzzles of the Labyrinth¡ªwhere do you keep it?¡± Mirian asked Beatrice.

    ¡°In my room.¡± She cocked her head. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m probably going to steal it at some point,¡± she replied casually. ¡°That¡¯ll speed things up when it matters.¡±

    Beatrice gawked at her. ¡°You can¡¯t just do that.¡±

    ¡°Why not? Tell you what, I can leave an apology note. But you¡¯re absolutely not going to be able to come with me through the Labyrinth. Ah, Vault¡¯s just up ahead.¡±

    Cediri sneered at her. ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± he said reluctantly.

    While the secured the ropes, Mirian levitated down and approached the door. First ring, counter-clockwise, ends on this glyph. Spin clockwise to here. Third ring, counter-clockwise. The door silently split open. Then she turned and used lift person to help Grimald down.

    ¡°So there¡¯s an actual Elder titan just¡­ sleeping underground?¡± Cediri asked.

    ¡°Yup,¡± she said.

    ¡°And you know which part the catalyst is?¡±

    That gave Mirian pause. ¡°I looked into it. The Ennecus family had notes on the arcane catalyst of the First Prophet¡¯s titan. It was a bone-like, nacreous-looking thing near the base of the skull. Described something like ¡®obsidian, spun like silk, with frozen oil that glistens as if lit by moonlight.¡¯ So I¡¯ll be look for something like that.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a big corpse to dissect. There¡¯s some devices we use to check the purity of catalysts when we sell parts so we know we¡¯re not getting something diluted. That could help you locate it.¡± He sighed. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you told them all I¡¯m a smuggler.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you¡¯ve been a criminal this whole time,¡± Beatrice said.

    Cediri rolled his eyes.

    Grimald shrugged his heavy shoulders. ¡°Seems like there¡¯s more important things,¡± he said gruffly.

    Mirian requested that she be allowed to solve each room as they moved forward, while Cediri kept track of how long it took using sand timers.

    ¡°One and one quarter minute,¡± he reported on the third room. ¡°Two minutes,¡± he said on the fourth. Finally, they got to the challenge corridor, the one with the anti-magic suppression field.

    Beatrice raised an eyebrow. ¡°The Ennecus group told us about this room. A jump that¡¯s damn near impossible. A crushing-wall just after that. Then there¡¯s the tiles that incinerate you if you touch the wrong one, and finally, some gravity spell flings you into the ceiling towards all those spikes and you have to jump from platform to platform. You¡¯re absolutely going to die if you try that. I don¡¯t even think it¡¯s physically possible.¡±

    Mirian smiled. ¡°Well, you know what they say about the best way to learn.¡±

    ¡°Repetition? Mirian, that just means its going to kill you like a hundred times.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, which is why I¡¯m not going to practice down here.¡± Miran pulled a measuring stick out of her pack, two bundles of marked ropes, a pile of rocks, a dye pack, then a cylinder. ¡°Cediri, write down the measurements as I call them out.¡±

    She started by measuring the distance from the door to the ledge, which Cediri dutifully recorded, then threw the rope across the first pit. The wall came out and crushed it the rope. As it did, she pulled it taut, marked the edge, then as the smashing-wall retracted, pulled the rope back. She measured the rope from where it had been smushed to the place where she¡¯d marked it. ¡°Four meters, six centimeters.¡±

    The Ennecus group¡¯s initial estimates had proved to be pretty good, but Mirian wanted precision. If she was going to practice, she needed to practice on an exact copy, or muscle memory would make the trial harder, not easier.

    Next, Mirian used a weighted rock at the end of the rope and carefully timed throws to measure out the farther distances. Once she¡¯d measured the exact length of one of the trapped tiles (which burned the ends off her first rope), she could extrapolate quite a bit.

    After that, they all took turns chucking rocks dipped in dye onto the tiles. Hitting the exact tile they wanted was the hardest part, but the dye clearly marked the ones that didn¡¯t burn. Cediri dutifully noted it all down.

    The last part was far too distant for her rope. Even if she could throw the coil just right, the crushing wall would stop the rope¡¯s movement before it got too far. Instead, from just outside the antimagic field, she cast a light spell inside the cylinder, then began moving it at angles to the measuring stick. With a bit of trigonometry and the distances she did know, she could assemble the rest of the distant measurements.

    It took a few hours. Then, they headed back up.

    ¡°Now,¡± Mirian said, rubbing her hands together, ¡°We¡¯re going to build it.¡±

    ¡°Minus the death-trap parts?¡±

    ¡°Minus the death-trap parts,¡± she agreed. They headed over to one of the cliff formations. There, Mirian began to use shape stone more than she had in all the cycles, carving out and smoothing granite chunks so that she had platforms, tiles, and gaps to leap over.

    The last part of the structure was the trickiest part. Mirian had them cut down several pine trees, then made a structure with the same inverted platforms. The only difference was she had to use wood instead of stone for the platforms for simple engineering considerations.

    Over the course of three days, they worked, until at last, Mirian had an obstacle course that fit the dimensions.

    ¡°Great. Alright, Beatrice, you¡¯re in charge of doing the illusion of the crushing wall. Ready?¡±

    Beatrice, who was sick to death of the tedium of measuring things and shaping stone, said, ¡°Yeah. Got it.¡±

    Mirian embraced The Spear That Cuts Water for extra agility, then took a running start. She took a flying leap¡ª

    ¡ªand hit the ground just before the first stone platform, tripped on the narrow curb of it, then sprawled out, scraping her hands.

    Beatrice dutifully summoned an illusionary rock to crush her. ¡°Dead,¡± she said in a monotone.

    Damn, this is going to take some time, Mirian thought.

    ***

    In between trial runs on the obstacle course, Mirian checked on the craft shop. The results were, to say the least, not good. She took a break from training to make her myrvite detector. Since it was a critical part of her plan, she redesigned the parts to streamline production. Once she made it, it was trivial to locate more wyverns. Elsadorra helped clean them, then she brought the bones and wings to the artisans at the shop, discussing how to best refine the design.

    Then, it was back to the obstacle course. It became clear to her that she would need to improve her physical ability, so she went back to using the Blooming Iron stance as she did agility exercises, went on runs, and practiced her horizontal leap.

    ***

    When it was near the end of the cycle, Mirian sat down with Beatrice and they ate reindeer stew on the hillside. When it got too cold, Mirian infused the bowl with a little heat energy.

    ¡°So¡­ what are you going to do when this is all over?¡± Beatrice asked her.

    Mirian chewed on a hunk of reindeer meat, swallowed, and looked out at the horizon. The snow was lit by the dancing auroras above. ¡°For the longest time, I thought I¡¯d just go back to school, and Zayd and my parents would watch me graduate. They¡¯d cheer me on as I walked across the stage of the Kiroscent Dome. I¡¯d be at the top of my class, and then I¡¯d get an apprenticeship with Professor Torres.¡± She shook her head. ¡°That was my dream for years.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯d be stupid,¡± Beatrice said.

    She laughed. ¡°Yeah. It wouldn¡¯t make any sense, anymore. I¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± She thought about it some more, then said, ¡°I would find the most beautiful garden in Baracuel and watch it as it turned to spring,¡± she said.

    ¡°Balls,¡± Beatrice said. ¡°I didn¡¯t even think of that. You have seen spring or summer in¡­ how long?¡±

    ¡°A decade. A bit more, now. It used to be my favorite season, even when I lived in Madinahr. There¡¯s these beautiful flowers in the desert, and the cactus in bloom are really pretty.¡± She closed her eyes wistfully, then opened them after a time. ¡°I have this, I suppose. It is beautiful, the dancing auroras reflected on the snow. The distant eruptions, like geysers of light.¡±

    ¡°I suppose the hundredth time, they¡¯re not as terrifying,¡± Beatrice said.

    ¡°Hundred and fiftieth,¡± she said, chewing again.

    ¡°Gods,¡± Beatrice whispered.

    ¡°I need to go down to Rostal and train with him a bit. Then I¡¯ll be back up to see you, and train on the death-passage again.¡±

    Beatrice leaned over and gave her a hug. ¡°Alright.¡±

    Mirian resolved to work on studying the soul-hole in another cycle. Moments like these, she had to appreciate. Keep the fires of hope alive, she thought. My followers will need it. And I will need it. Hope will sustain me far longer than vengeance.

    There was the flash, the end, and then the dreams of the Ominian again.

 Chapter 160 - Another Route

    When the time loop started fresh, Mirian spent some time in the dorms one night quietly breaking into people¡¯s rooms and investigating their spellbooks. It had the advantage of both disrupting the initial conditions Troytin would encounter, and offering her a quick way to get several spells without scribing them. She left a few of her usual surprises, then traveled to Palendurio and hired a new assassin to go after Troytin.

    Mirian spent two cycles training her speed, strength, and agility with Rostal, then two more perfecting the obstacle course. The tricky part was at the end. To replicate the reversal of gravity, Mirian had to precisely channel into her levitation wand so it was exerting a force exactly twice as much as gravity on herself, then had to continue channeling while also twisting her body like a cat so she could land upside down on the hanging platforms.

    Meanwhile, she continued to iterate her designs with the artisans in Frostland¡¯s Gate, and sketched out new ways to streamline her work. In those cycles, she started stealing Professor Cassius¡¯s eximontar, a beautiful creature named Winterblossom.

    One day, I¡¯ll have to ask Cassius how he came up with that name.

    Winterblossom was proud, aggressive, and also significantly larger and faster than any of the other myrvite mounts. It took Mirian a bit to figure out just how Winterblossom liked his mana threads, but once she figured that out, the mount took a liking to her.

    Having practiced leaping about her model of the death corridor until she was absolutely sick of it, Mirian was ready to try the Labyrinth again. She cleansed Torrviol of spies, set up new pitfalls, then headed north.

    On the steepest sections of the pass, Mirian took to levitating both her and Winterblossom up the steepest parts of the mountain trails. At first, Winterblossom kicked wildly and made a distressed chittering noise, but eventually, he got used to it. Overall, she was still saving mana and reducing travel time.

    Her next innovation in saving time came as she approached the highest part of the Littenord Pass. Winterblossom was pretty good at navigating the snow, but it was still deep. When she¡¯d tried giving Winterblossom ice-crafted snow shoes the first time she¡¯d stolen him, it hadn¡¯t worked, and the eximontar had made his displeasure known. But walking down the deep drifts took time, and keeping track of the trail was equally annoying. This early in the cycle, she had no footprints or travelers to follow.

    Looking down from the height of the pass, it was a long slope, treacherous with ice and a few short cliffs.

    I have to fight gravity the whole time to get up here. Why not use it to speed my descent? she thought.

    Her stolen spellbook didn¡¯t have exactly what she needed, but the spell would be a fairly simple one. She spent some time by the warmth of the traveler¡¯s obelisk scribing away as Winterblossom tried to eat different kinds of fir needles. The dumb animal lacerated his tongue on a sword-pine tree, then stomped around in a panic until Mirian could finally calm him down and hold him still to heal him. At least the priest¡¯s healing techniques work the same on eximontar, she thought.

    Finally, she¡¯d scribed the spell: nested perforated force spheres.

    It was actually two separate spells so she could control the mana flows going into them separately, but she thought of it as a single thing. If it worked, she would get down the mountain in record time.

    ¡°Ready, Winterblossom?¡± she asked. The creature made a weird clicking noise with its mandibles. Mirian guided it over to the edge of the trail where the downward slope began, levitated them slightly, then cast the spell around them.

    The inner force sphere was designed to stay still and keep whoever was in it upright. The outer force sphere could roll as much as it wanted, and the air holes in both would make sure they didn¡¯t suffocate. Mirian used a force spell to drag a rock into the back of the sphere to start their momentum, giving them a solid thwack!

    They began to roll down the mountain. Winterblossom, inured already to levitation spells, still didn¡¯t like the feeling and made his displeasure known, but couldn¡¯t move much. Mirian was focused on putting more mana into the second part of the spell so the outer sphere stayed intact. They began to bounce down the mountain, accelerating far faster than even a double-conduit levitation wand could manage.

    Mirian let out a whoop as the force sphere tumbled down the path, launching itself off a cliff. There was a feeling of falling and Winterblossom made a gross noise, but then with an explosion of snow they hit the slope and kept going, continuing to build speed. Wind and flakes of icy mush streamed through the air holes, while the sphere kicked up clouds of snow on both sides, adding some friction, but not nearly enough to slow them much.

    She kept channeling, feeding more mana into the outer sphere as it was bombarded by stray rocks and little falls. Winterblossom made another noise, then gave up and lay down, only crushing Mirian¡¯s left leg a little. The bottom of the inner sphere started to get damp with slush as the snow they careened over melted and found its way in gaps.

    The sphere tumbled down another slope, then splashed into the shallow mountain stream. Once they were in that, they started making even better speed. Mirian shrank the inner sphere slightly so the water didn¡¯t fill too much, but this late in the season, the stream was mostly frozen over. The sphere continued, smashing through a cluster of icicles on one rocky bank, breaking off the branches of shrubs that had leaned too far into the stream and startling the five hells out of a group of elk that had thought it was a safe time to get a drink.

    At last, they reached a valley, and the sphere ground itself into enough snow on the flat plain that it came to a halt. She dismissed the spell, laughing from the joy of it. ¡°Oh, come on Winterblossom! That was great!¡± she told the eximontar.

    Winterblossom turned his head and snorted, clicking twice.

    Mirian let the mount pout, and levitated up above the canopy to see how far she¡¯d come. In the distance, she could see the pass they¡¯d come down, looming high above them. That probably saved me a half day or more, she thought.

    Winterblossom needed a bit more time to lie in the snow, but judicious use of the grooming brush and another offering of mana finally got the beast to get up and continue. Once away from the slopes, the path was almost a straight shot to the village.

    ***

    They stood at the edge of the death corridor. Mirian began to limber up, shedding all her supplies except the tightly strapped pack that contained her spellbook, soul repositories, food, waterskin, and puzzle-solving supplies. She¡¯d worked to minimize the weight of the pack, while maximizing the useful tools.

    ¡°You¡¯re really going to run that thing?¡± Beatrice asked, skeptically.

    Mirian finished stretching. ¡°Remember, no matter what happens, head back to town. And you remember when the myrvites swarm the town?¡±

    ¡°The 19th of Solem. We¡¯ll be ready,¡± Cediri said. ¡°Whew. Good luck.¡±

    Mirian embraced the Spear That Cuts Water. As soon as the crushing wall across the way closed and then opened again, she accelerated into a sprint. She leapt across the gap, landing with both feet before she started moving again. She leapt to the first safe tile as the wall slammed closed behind her, then made a series of one-legged leaps onto the safe tiles, alternating using her left and right feet.

    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    Second tile. Fifth tile. Fourth tile. First. Sixth. Fifth again.

    Then, she dove forward, twisting her body like a corkscrew. The yank of gravity reversing was, at least, familiar, but it threw her off balance since it didn¡¯t happen as a result of her spell. She landed with a grunt on the platform below, then took a moment to recover.

    As she stood, though, the platform began to vibrate. That can¡¯t be good.

    Whatever it was about to do wouldn¡¯t be good for her health. Mirian took a running start and leapt to the next platform. As she did, she heard a wunk! When she landed on the next platform, she looked behind her, only to see the first platform she¡¯d landed on had retracted itself, leaving behind only stone spikes.

    The second platform started to vibrate.

    Shit. She recovered her footing, then leapt. The third platform started vibrating too. This time she didn¡¯t hesitate, just took another running leap, hit the last platform, and kept running. It was a good thing, too, because whatever timer the platforms were on, the last one was shorter. Even as her feet left the platform, she felt it starting to lower, making her jump to the final ledge short. With her enhanced reflexes, she grabbed onto the ledge, her body slamming into the wall.

    Mirian heaved herself up. Behind her, all the platforms had retracted. But in front of her was the door.

    ¡°Yeah! You did it!¡± called Beatrice from the far end of the death-corridor. ¡°Good luck!¡±

    She turned and gave her a thumbs up, then placed her palm on the door. It split open, revealing a large room full of stone pillars. To her dismay, the antimagic suppression field was still in effect.

    It took her some time to figure out what the puzzle was. There were tiles that lit up with glowing glyphs when she stepped on them, and they helped give her hints about where the next tile-switch was. Getting to each tile meant leaping up to the tops of the stone pillars, then jumping from platform to platform until she was just below the ceiling.

    She took notes on the sequence of the switches and their locations. For three rooms, the puzzles grew in complexity. She discovered switches that would only stay active for a short amount of time, but finding a switch that glowed the same color as the timed switch would lengthen how long it stayed active. Red switches stayed active only for a few dozen seconds, while yellow switches lasted a minute, and so-on through the color spectrum.

    The next room baffled her. She spent an hour trying to make the puzzle work, but one of the tile switches had glyphs that alluded to a tile near the top of the puzzle¡ªbut she couldn¡¯t find it.

    Mirian sat and ate, contemplating solutions. The switches proceed through the color spectrum. Why would it stop at purple? The Elder Gods aren¡¯t limited in the light they can see. Perhaps there¡¯s an ultraviolet switch? But the suppression field is still active, so I can¡¯t just use a spell to detect it. The stonework is too perfect for me to simply find the glyphs; if there wasn¡¯t a glow, I wouldn¡¯t know any of the switches were active.

    She munched on a piece of boar jerky, then sifted through her pack looking for solutions.

    Then it struck her.

    Of course! Certain magichemicals fluoresce in ultraviolet light. I can hold out the glass bottle as I move around the top and find them.

    Sure enough, when she climbed back up to the higher stone pillars, the bottle of ink began to fluoresce. With that final switch activated, she could hit the red switches in quick succession. The glyphs around the door finally opened.

    That led to her first construct. It was about seven feet tall, though a bit thinner than Scrappy.

    Again, the antimagic suppression field was active. Mirian grimaced, and summoned Eclipse. If only I knew more soul magic, perhaps I could use something that could harm something like a golem by itself.

    She came at the golem under The Spear That Cuts Water, using her enhanced agility to dodge its first swipe at her. As she ducked under it, she cut upward. Sparks flew and there was a terrible screeching sound as the blade scraped the metal arm. She dodged again, then plunged her blade into the central eye¡ª

    ¡ªor tried. The blade hit a powerful force barrier, somehow active despite the magical suppression field. Normally, Eclipse would shear through it, but the barrier remained intact. Light began to bloom where her blade met the barrier. The golem made a howling noise, and Mirian felt a churning feeling inside her. The spell resistance of Eclipse was tied to her soul, and though it was enhanced by the property of the special metals, it was still linked to her. She could actually feel soul energy being consumed, like water meeting fire and erupting into smoke.

    She withdrew the blade, gasping for air, body shaking. Fortunately, the golem seemed shaken as well, which gave her valuable seconds to dive out of the way as it recovered and sent two of its arms crashing down toward her. I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a fight I can win, she decided. So it¡¯s similar to the other puzzle. Solve the room while getting chased around. Only, without levitation, and without anyone to take over if I get tired.

    Mirian started moving around the room looking for switches as she wove around the pillars, dodging the slow-moving golem. When she had enough distance, she hoisted herself up onto a rectangular pillar, then leapt to a slightly taller one a few feet away and grunted as she pulled herself up again. To her dismay, the golem¡¯s hands reformed into a claw-like shape that pulsed with energy. It attached a pair of them to the pillar, then slowly began to climb.

    No rest then. I¡¯ll have to train my endurance as far as it can go. She leapt to another platform. Blue glyphs lit up as she stood in the center of it. Mirian quickly jotted down its position, caught her breath, then kept going.

    ***

    The next room had a golem too, and as soon as the first one broke off its pursuit, the one in the next room was after her. Mirian switched to the Lone Pine form just to ward away the weariness. At the top of the room, she had to scramble to get out her ink bottle to help find the switch that was lit by ultraviolet light before the golem climbed up and swatted her off.

    Then, as she stumbled through, there were two golems waiting for her, a little one and a big one. Damnit, she thought. There was no time to rest. She circled around to where one of the taller pillars was closer to the wall and used that to leap back and forth between the two until she was at the top.

    That should give me a chance to catch my breath, she thought. The larger golem would at least be slow to climb up, which would give her¡ª

    That¡¯s when she saw the small golem leaping from pillar to pillar, making its way up to her. Still with the damn antimagic field.

    Desperately, she used one of the kicks Rostal had taught her, hitting the small construct in midair as it leapt toward her. It plummeted to the ground with a crash. She looked down. The energy forming the central ¡®eye¡¯ was chaotic, and the energy along its limbs crackled. It seemed to be repairing itself, but it at least was temporarily disabled. She doubled over, breathing hard, muscles trembling.

    Good. Just need a minute. If I can incapacitate the first one then¡ª

    That was when she felt her leg snatched by a thick claw. It dragged her backward with incredible speed, and she was plummeting to the ground¡ª

    ***

    The Ominian walked with her under a night sky. They were in the Endelice Mountains again, the dark ice of the glaciers glimmering with reflected light from the stars above.

    ¡°Does it have to be so hard?¡± she thought at Them, since she had no physicality.

    THIS PLACE crooned the Ominian, and took another step forward. The Ominian was perhaps six times taller than the myrvite Titan; the beast would have been like a small dog to it. Yet, even as They walked, there was a tenderness to Their step. Even though there was nothing around them but jagged mountains and a frozen world, They stepped as if it was a garden full of delicate flowers.

    ¡°Why do you walk Enteria? Are you leading me to something? Am I on the right track? What is the path forward?¡±

    A dozen times before, she¡¯d asked similar questions, and the colossal Elder God, or statue, or whatever it was, had simply ignored her. Now, They turned.

    Pictures flashed through her mind. She saw a long road of cobblestones winding through a valley, then the streets of a city, though the architecture seemed wrong¡ªall the buildings too shiny and tall to be real. Then the roads began to split, the trails fanning out, and in the same logic of dreams, she knew there were more roads than there was space to fit them all. The roads became branches of a tree, and she saw the tree again, the one that was half-aflame.

    Thousands of paths, hundreds of thousands¡ªhalf of them burning. In the haze of smoke and destruction, it wasn¡¯t clear which of the tangled branches led to the fire, and which to the greenery. WHICH PATH? came the words in her mind, blazing there like a scream.

    She had no answer. They had no answer.

    She woke in her bed again.

 Chapter 161 - Final Preparations

    Mirian spent two more cycles training with Rostal. The old dervish pushed her hard, but she demanded he push her harder. She built the death-corridor course in an abandoned part of the Palendurio canals to keep herself used to the hall. She also raised up three stone pillars with shape stone to train on.

    Near the end of that second cycle, Rostal was giving her a strange look.

    ¡°What?¡± she asked in Adamic.

    ¡°At first, I thought you were a creature of lightning. Now I think you also have fire in you. I must teach you the Last Breath Of The Phoenix.¡±

    Mirian smiled at him. ¡°Very well.¡±

    She could immediately see how it was dangerous. Just like with arcane magic, energy was not free; it had to come from somewhere. To gain the extra strength of the stance, the soul itself was the fuel. Like the form of the Dusk Waves, she could see her soul dancing as if in a storm, and the chaos of it made it hard to control once the fires of the Phoenix form started.

    But she also saw a pattern. The form involved drawing soul-energy pools into points, like a flame drawing oxygen into itself. But those points were all near the surface, and the action felt a lot like drawing soul energy for a celestial spell.

    As the cycle closed, Mirian traded gold for smuggled myrvites to charge her soul repositories, then attempted drawing outside soul energy to fuel the dervish form. It was tricky, because she had to draw the soul energy right along the surface of her own soul, but not mix the energies lest they cause damage.

    But it worked.

    When she asked Rostal if any dervishes had done anything like it, his brow furrowed. ¡°Perhaps. But if they did, it is lost to us. So much is lost to us. It sounds like more of what the necromancers were famous for.¡± He tilted his head and looked at her. ¡°Not all that is lost deserves to be remembered.¡±

    What she¡¯d discovered would all be called ¡®necromancy¡¯ by the ignorant. But drawing strength from myrvite souls would help alleviate her exhaustion. None of their opinions would last long enough to matter.

    She spent the next cycle practicing rapid artifice and mapping out the locations of myrvites that would be on her journey to Frostland¡¯s Gate, as well as refining her wyvern-bone project with the artisans there.

    It was that cycle she received a worrying message from Respected Jei, delivered by courier. She¡¯d written it in Adamic. It was a simple enough message:

    <blockquote>

    There was no airship from Akana Praediar. Broadsheet from Alkazaria continues to report defeat of Dawn¡¯s Peace in Rambalda.

    </blockquote>

    That worried Mirian. Have their goals changed? Or just their tactics? Did Troytin learn something new that he seeks to exploit? Or did he sneak into Torrviol using the skiff like he used to do to catch me off guard?

    Without information, it was all speculation. Wary of a trap, Mirian ditched her stolen spellbook and returned to Torrviol. She used divination to scour the forest for an abandoned airship and the town for anyone using illusions or bindings to change their appearance.

    Nothing.

    Which didn¡¯t alleviate her worry at all.

    I can¡¯t let it stop my plans. I¡¯m almost there, Mirian thought.

    ***

    She returned to the Labyrinth the next cycle, making minimal preparations in Torrviol to better simulate her planned timeline. This time, she made it past the room with two golems. Beyond them was another corridor. As she entered, the platforms began to move. At one junction, electricity periodically arced from rod to rod.

    She analyzed the movements, mentally mapped out her route, then ran, leaping from platform to platform. When she approached the electric arcs, she had to leap back the platform behind her, then forward again as soon as the arc went off. Then came another corridor, and another, and another, each with its own deadly challenges. Finally, soul repositories depleted, stamina exhausted, she stumbled into the next room.

    Two golems dropped down from the ceiling behind her, and a third in front.

    On instinct, she rushed forward, leaping and then kicking off a wall to get extra distance. She didn¡¯t look back; it would just slow her down. There were two elevated pillars, and she kicked off between them, rapidly ascending, then leapt forward, and just in time. Behind her, she felt the air of the bladed arm of the smaller golem.

    One more leap brought her onto the platform with the forward golem. She dodged its first smash, but the hit caused the platform to wobble and she lost her footing. She scrambled for the far edge past it.

    She almost made it. Stone spikes rained down from the ceiling, and one caught her in the leg. Mirian screamed, then toppled off the platform, dropping thirty feet to the floor below. The fall didn¡¯t kill her. Instead, electric traps on the floor turned on, and then there was darkness.

    ***

    The next cycle, the 160th, she figured out the solution to the last room. When the golem slammed the platform, that somehow sent a signal to the spikes above. She had to slide under the golem, between its legs, while the spikes rained down.

    She made it to the final platform, then ran through the door. She looked around, expecting more golems, traps, or maybe a blade that descended from the ceiling. Instead, she froze.

    She was in a jungle.

    Is this the final room?

    Except it was too small for that, but the plant life there seemed similar.

    Another feeling overwhelmed her: her connection to her mana. At last! she thought in relief. She walked forward, brushing aside a low hanging branch. There, in the center of the room, was a pedestal. The top of it was decagonal. On each side was a single, beautifully formed glyph.

    The basic forces of energy. Kinetic, heat, magnetism, electricity, gravity, sound, light, arcane, and soul. But what is the last glyph? She had never seen it before.

    She heard the pleasant sound of birdsong. She looked up, and saw a black bird sitting on a branch, its wings covered in eyes. She looked at it, ready to fight, but it didn¡¯t seem hostile. The brush stirred, and a small lizard-like thing scurried by, unconcerned by her presence. Its scales resembled the fangs of a snake, but twisted together like braids. The bark of the trees seemed to slowly undulate. The insects flying around were wholly alien to her.

    This was life, but not the kind found on the surface. Still, it wasn¡¯t actively attacking her, so she let them be.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    She approached the pedestal, and experimentally channeled a trickle of mana into the glyph for heat energy.

    Not much happened. Did the room become slightly warmer?

    She channeled more. Then she was sure. Definitely warmer. So this is magnifying the effect of energy added to the system.

    Mirian looked around. The lizard-thing wasn¡¯t happy. It had decided to go lay down in a pool in the shade. The bird-thing had its wings slightly parted. A cat-like creature was panting while lying in the shade. Adding light energy to the system would be similar to adding heat energy. But what opens the door?

    She could see it, through a thin veil of branches. There were no glyphs or runes around it to indicate what she was supposed to do. She tried adding kinetic energy next. A breeze began to waft through the room. It felt a little cooler, though she guessed the actual temperature of the room hadn¡¯t changed.

    Staring at the glyphs, she couldn¡¯t think of how adding energy to the system would do anything except cause problems. Sound energy might cause an earthquake or just make a disruptive noise. Viridian talked about excessive noise agitating most animals and interfering with bird mating calls. Electricity¡ªbolts of lightning, maybe? I don¡¯t see that helping. Am I supposed to pick the energy type that doesn¡¯t screw with the wildlife?

    Mirian tried channeling into the magnetic energy glyph. As she did, the bird became distraught and started flying around erratically. What? Why?

    Puzzled, she tried another input. Maybe they need arcane energy. Plenty of things consume mana. She tried channeling into that glyph. She looked around, but didn¡¯t see any of the plants or animals reacting. Well, nothing bad is happening. Maybe it just needs more?

    She channeled more mana. Nothing. She channeled some more. Nothing around the door had changed. Now she was curious. Is this instructional? Excess energy of any kind can be harmful¡ªbut not arcane? Is that why the Elder Gods created the arcane force? She continued to channel.

    Suddenly, there was a crackling sound, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She felt the surge with her arcane sense, and turned to look towards it. Bursting from the soil in the room was¡ª

    ¡ªa little geyser of purple and orange.

    Her mind raced with questions.

    An eruption in miniature. So the leylines are going berserk because there¡¯s too much energy in the system? But what¡¯s the cause? Is it the nature of the leylines? How would arcane energy accumulate there? The Academy taught me ambient mana is mostly absorbed by plants and fungi, though, then incorporated into the auras of animals¡ªbut it¡¯s clearly also mediated by soul energy. How does ambient mana relate to the leylines? How does it connect to soul energy? And does Apophagorga have anything to do with it?

    She stood there, lost in thought. I thought I understood how this stuff worked. And it¡¯s not like I know nothing¡ªI¡¯ve clearly figured out how to generate a great deal of auric mana. But on the macro scale¡­ does anyone know how it works?

    Then she thought back to Viridian¡¯s class, the one where he¡¯d obtained the Akanan mathematical spell engine and simulated climate. And he thinks the Labyrinth is key to that. She looked around. This is a model. Just like that spell engine, only magnitudes more complex. I¡¯ll have to come back here when I have my Holy Pages spellbook. For now, I need to figure out how to open that door.

    Trees needed light to grow, and so, she decided, perhaps they would take up the excess energy in the system as they grew. At first, she thought it was working. New plants burst through the ground, while the trees grew in size. But as she suspected, the temperature increased, as did the breeze. Some of the leaves on the older plants began to turn a sickly brown.

    There was that last glyph, the one she didn¡¯t know the function of. I doubt that¡¯s it. The solution isn¡¯t to add energy to the system. But how do I remove energy?

    It was a model, not an actual ecosystem. Perhaps there was a way to signal the removal of energy. Energy can, after all, be bound up and stored so it¡¯s not in the system. But how to signal that within the model? She looked at the glyphs. Despite the unfathomable knowledge of the Elder Gods, they had deigned to use the simplest form possible.

    That gave her an idea. She opened up her spellbook and used a displacement glyph, pairing it with the heat energy glyph on the pedestal. As she channeled, she felt the temperature of the room dropping. She stopped, then moved to each of the other energy glyphs, removing the energy and bringing it below the baseline. The bird stopped freaking out. The lizard emerged from the pool. The trees lost their leaves as the light and temperature decreased.

    She ignored the unknown glyph, hoping it wasn¡¯t a key part of the puzzle. Whatever glyph needed to displace the unknown form of, presumably, energy, didn¡¯t exist in her spellbook.

    Drawing down the arcane energy levels took the longest since she¡¯d added so much.

    Glowing light surrounded the door. It opened.

    That¡¯s it?

    She walked through. The next room was the long one¡ªthe one that ended in the final Vault and the relicarium.

    Each route is a lesson. The rooms start with ecology puzzles, and knowledge of myrvites and magichemicals, but then become about speed, agility, and endurance. But the last room is about energy and ecology again. Viridian would call it a disrupted equilibrium.

    She stepped into the long corridor. I won¡¯t be able to open the final door while being attacked by the whole forest. But why does the forest attack?

    Mirian began to walk, constantly checking her surroundings.

    Nothing.

    She was almost to the door when one of the pieces of vegetation finally morphed into an abomination. Mirian watched it, and it watched her. Displacement of energy, she thought. She opened her spellbook and used rapid heat displacement to freeze the creature. Since it was soulless, it took little effort. She checked around. No swarming monsters.

    Of course. If we¡¯d come in through the second route, we¡¯d have understood.

    There were layers of lessons here, ones Mirian still wasn¡¯t sure she fully understood. But the artificial forest was still, and the final door was before her. She opened it, just for the practice, and stepped in. The relicarium was still there, as were the strange relics. I¡¯ll be back for you, she thought, and left.

    The route back was the same one she was familiar with. From her earlier trips to the village, it seemed the Labyrinth shifted sometime on the morning of the 3rd. Two days to set up Torrviol and reach Frostland¡¯s Gate. In and out. And this route requires minimal mana. I think I¡¯m almost ready.

    ***

    The next cycle, she continued her preparations. Mirian practiced different sections of her route, as well as added some old friends to her growing expedition. She got word from Torrviol that Troytin returned, arriving in the town by the large airship as if nothing had changed. Whatever he¡¯d been up to, she couldn¡¯t tell. Ibrahim was still missing. Whatever he¡¯d gone off to do, it was taking a great deal of time.

    At the end of each cycle, she had continued to return to her study of the void-hole. By now, she had mapped the outlines of an object. It was, as she¡¯d guessed, a four-dimensional object, residing in a four-dimensional space. To that end, the best way to describe the object was mathematically, but in her mind, she¡¯d begun to think of it as the Soul Anchor; it had a solid core, and four protrusions that stuck out of it, keeping it immobile, like claws dug into the soul. But she¡¯d found that she could use the bindings of soul magic to pressure those protrusions so that they folded back into the central core.

    She didn¡¯t actually attempt to fold them all back in. That struck her as too dangerous a thing to do; after all, those protrusions were dug in for a reason.

    However, she calculated that, if they all folded back in, the device would resemble a rod, or perhaps the blade of a stiletto.

    Its diameter at the thickest point in its narrowest dimension was about two centimeters across, as best she could tell, and perfectly circular.

    On the 162nd cycle, she pulled out a measuring stick and stood on her bed to examine the ceiling. Two centimeters in diameter, exactly.

    Looking through the hole, she thought, so that¡¯s what it was. But where did it come from?

    It would have to be a mystery for another time. She focused on establishing the final timelines on the Cairnmouth and Palendurio sections of her route, making sure her allies could fulfill their roles with minimal intervention on her part. As the month came to a close, she finished her final preparations. It was finally time to kill a titan and assemble a spellbook that could persist across the time loops.

    Mirian steeled herself for the next cycle.

 Chapter 162 - Speedrunning the Loop, Solem 1

    On the 163rd cycle, Mirian awoke, threw off the covers, and was out of bed before the first drop of water from the ceiling hit her. She scrambled to dress.

    ¡°Mirian?¡± came the voice of her groggy roommate. ¡°Did the alarm candle not¡ªwhat time is¡ª?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, gotta run. Don¡¯t worry about me. Love you roomie!¡± Mirian said as she burst out the door.

    She ran over to the next building and used raw magic to open the lock on the door, then again to break into the room of a 6th year student whose name she hadn¡¯t bothered to learn. His spellbook contained a few key spells, including an incendiary beam, illusionary disguise, slice metal, manipulate glass, and magnetic lift. Both of them were still asleep. She swiped the book, gently closed the door, then hurried out to the dining hall.

    The next part she¡¯d done so many times it might as well have been from the script of a play.

    ¡°I¡¯d like three plates of the baduka boar, a large bowl of fish stew, and a plate of the vegetable curry. And three slices of apple pie. Please. Here¡¯s the silver, plus a bit extra for your trouble,¡± she said as she moved through the dining hall. This early, it was all but deserted.

    The chef gave her a look. ¡°The baduka boar is for the dinner tonight.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but I¡¯m very hungry and you should count how much silver I just gave you.¡±

    The chef gave her another suspicious glare but then noted the extra silver drachms. Two would pay for what she just ordered; seven was too much. ¡°The boar will take a few extra minutes to cook.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take the fish stew while I wait,¡± she said, knowing it was already simmering in the pot.

    The chef gave her a look, but sighed and got her a bowl. When he returned with the vegetable curry, he gave her a slightly shocked look. The fish stew was already gone. Mirian looked at him pleasantly.

    ¡°Right, you are hungry. Auric overdrain?¡±

    ¡°Something like that,¡± she said. Already, she could feel movement churning in her as body worked to consume everything it could find to bring about the physical changes to muscles and endurance that were imprinted in her soul. Alongside it, she could feel her auric mana swelling.

    She devoured all three boar steaks in record time, then the pies, then left, quickly walking to Bainrose. Once inside, she ran to the staircase, magnetically lifted the metal switch on the hidden door in the second basement level, then ran through the maze of the catacombs. She knew exactly where the bog lion would be, and cast incendiary beam right on it, nabbed the levitation wand from the ash pile, then hurried back out of the library.

    Then, clutching her satchel so it wouldn¡¯t bounce, she broke into a dead sprint, running directly to the hidden trap door out in the field, used magnetic lift to open it, levitated down, and summoned Eclipse to slit Specter¡¯s throat. She jammed Adria¡¯s Praetorian uniform into her satchel, cut off Specter¡¯s ankle so she could get the focus off quicker, slipped off the signet ring, then burned the body into unrecognizability. She retrieved a pile of incriminating documents, then swept the incendiary beam around the study, then her bedroom, then levitated back out the hidden door and slammed it shut.

    Nicolus was stuck in Alchemistry 402 for another hour, so after Mirian wrote out several letters with instructions to her allies, she moved to the crafting center to start producing components of her tri-bonded myrvite detector. As she rapidly moved between tools and stations, Grandmaster Ingrid started staring at her.

    Then, she moved into position. First, she intercepted the second spy¡¯s route to the Myrvite Studies building and cut his throat in the alley he was moving down with a precise force blade. She left immediately so she was just outside Professor Senca¡¯s classroom as the class let out.

    ¡°Hi Nicolus,¡± she said, taking her place beside him. ¡°You¡¯re going to skip the next class because we need to talk. We might as well head back to your apartment, because Sire Nurea will want to be looped in.¡±

    He gave her the usual funny look. ¡°Mirian, right? I¡ª¡±

    ¡°Shh. You were obsessed with cows as a kid, your dad¡¯s always been a jerk to you, Uncle Alexus is in Akana Praediar trying to make the family relevant again, and none of it matters because the leylines are going to destabilize near the end of the month. This way, please, we¡¯ll cut through the alley. Now, I know what you¡¯re thinking about saying. One, how does she know this? Because it turns out I¡¯m a Prophet and their foresight was derived from living their lives multiple times. Two, is she going to kiss me? No, not this time. Three, wow, it¡¯s really weird she would know all this stuff, but is there anything she could show me as proof?¡±

    Mirian conjured Eclipse and then rammed it tip-first into the pavement. The cobblestone cracked, and the sword wedged into the ground. Nicolus jumped back, startled, and looked about. But no one would be coming down the alleyway.

    ¡°Four, I know you want to touch the sword. Inadvisable, because it¡¯s connected to my soul and will both burn you and disrupt your auric mana slightly, but I¡¯ll be able to heal the burn so go ahead.¡±

    Nicolus looked at her, then the sword, then back at her. He reached for the hilt, grabbed it, and winced. ¡°Ow,¡± he said. ¡°Well five hells. So¡­ why now?¡±

    ¡°The First Prophet¡¯s time loop lasted decades. I have a month,¡± she said, using a thimble of her own soul energy to sooth the burn on his hand. ¡°The loop just reset today. And we¡¯re on a deadline.¡± She looked at him, waiting, but there was no anticipation. She already knew the answer. She was just going through the motions again.

    When he said yes, she gave her usual reply. Soon enough, they were back in his apartment, and she was laying out exactly what she needed him to do while Nurea watched on:

    ¡°¡­and then you¡¯ll tell Calisto you found an investor who created a novel long-range myrvite detector, one who has the kind of money that can save the Ennecus Guild. That House Sacristar is already investing in the detector and you can vouch for it; in fact, I¡¯ll have it to you at noon, and you¡¯ll take it with you. Give her one of those trademark smiles of yours, and she¡¯ll feel too many butterflies to question you. Nurea, you¡¯re suspicious right now because you still think I¡¯m trying to steal money, so let me reiterate that I will cover all finances of this, including the ten thousand doubloons. The key point is this: you and Calisto Ennecus need to meet me at Xylatarvia¡¯s Hearth between the Port Market and First Cairn at noon on the 5th of Solem. Travel together with her, and leave no later than the 3rd.¡± So that Troytin can¡¯t interfere.

    She slid a piece of paper toward them.

    Nicolus made a face. ¡°Calisto? Really? You sure there¡¯s not a bog lion I can wrestle instead?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s several, north of town, actually. But I¡¯ve been dismembered by Akanan soldiers and eaten alive by myrvites. You can talk to your ex-girlfriend.¡±

    Her old classmate opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, then closed it again. ¡°Point taken. I guess you¡¯ve already heard all my smarmy jokes, haven¡¯t you? Actually, you probably knew I was going to say that, too.¡±

    ¡°I get it. It sucks on both sides of the coin,¡± she said, but was thinking, yup. No meaningful deviation yet. ¡°While you¡¯re in Cairnmouth, go to Sound and Sea Trading Headquarters and put in three orders of fossilized myrvite, shipped out of Alkazaria, expedited orders. Tonnage requirements, destinations, and shipping companies are also on that piece of paper. Sire Nurea, use illusions and false identities where you see fit. There is an interested party watching you, but mostly, he¡¯s looking for me. Feel free to use your Syndicate contacts to help cover your movements.¡±

    Nurea glanced at Nicolus, who said, ¡°Don¡¯t look at me!¡±

    The bell tower started chiming.

    ¡°I know you have questions, but I also trust you both, and that¡¯s my cue to leave. Remember, when this is all over, I¡¯ll remember House Sacristar. Ominian watch over you.¡±

    Mirian opened up the balcony door. While Nicolus said, ¡°Wait, that¡¯s not the¡ª¡± she leapt off, using her levitation wand to catch her fall. Mirian didn¡¯t look back, but she knew he was leaning over the railing, gaping at her.

    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    She ran through the alleys, then cut through the plaza, running past Bertrus as he guarded the front entrance to Bainrose, then around the side. She levitated straight up the old latrine shaft, bursting open the cover with a raw blast of force. Mirian quickly ran through the door to the second floor walkways. The quickest way to the tower she needed was a leap straight across the gap between two of the walkways, a leap she could now do with ease thanks to Rostal¡¯s training.

    That then brought her to a door to the tower¡¯s spiral staircase. She opened up the stolen spellbook and cast detect silver. She immediately sensed the purses of all the nearby people, including one coming up the staircase. Ten seconds too early, she thought, and counted down, ignoring the second year student who¡¯d seen her leap across the gap and was now staring at her.

    Three, two, one. She cast an enhanced muffle footsteps, creating a bubble of suppressed sound around her and opened the door. Then she took the steps two at a time, and caught the closing door to the third floor. She dismissed the spell a moment later.

    Professor Torres, having heard the door not close at the correct time, whirled. ¡°Mirian?¡± she said. ¡°Students aren¡¯t allowed¡ª¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s wait for Respected Jei, so I can tell you both at once,¡± Mirian said. ¡°You¡¯re meeting her here to discuss the Divine Monument, so she¡¯ll be coming through that door in about fifteen seconds, and then we can go to the lounge.¡±

    Torres¡¯s eyes grew wide, then they narrowed. She reached for her spellbook, saying, ¡°How do you know about the¡ª¡± but was interrupted by Jei coming through the far door, greeting her in Gulwenen.

    Then Jei saw Mirian and froze.

    In Adamic, she said, ¡°Jei, your sister¡¯s name is Bao and you accidentally gave her brain damage.¡± Switching to Friian, she said, ¡°Torres, you like your proof of time travel in ability, not knowledge, so here¡¯s the project I started.¡± She handed her the initial pieces of the tri-bonded  myrvite detector.

    The discussion from there was routine. In short order, they were in the lounge while Mirian laid out their tasks.

    ¡°¡­so Jei, you¡¯ll prepare those wands and instructions for the Praetorians,¡± she finished. ¡°Any questions?¡± She held up a finger. ¡°Sorry, wait, Torres, I¡¯ll answer yours first. No, I don¡¯t know how the Divine Monument connects to all this yet, only that right now it¡¯s acting as some sort of stabilizer for the leylines. Any other questions?¡±

    Torres was perturbed that Mirian had answered her question before she¡¯d asked it, and both of her old professors were giving her that look that meant ¡®I don¡¯t believe this.¡¯ She¡¯d grown used to it.

    ¡°Good. It¡¯s critical you leave Torrviol before the 4th, and you¡¯ll want to lay low until you get to Alkazaria in case the other time traveler wants to question you. Your roles are both critical. The Praetorian assault team is very difficult to convince without your help.¡± Mirian waited patiently for the next question. Torres would like it even less if she answered it ahead of time.

    ¡°And how do we know you¡¯re doing this all for¡­ our benefit?¡±

    Jei looked at Torres. ¡°You know her,¡± she said.

    ¡°I knew her,¡± Torres responded. ¡°People change.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s a good question. I¡¯ve started to wonder¡ªwe know what the old Prophets did, but what were they tasked with doing? Did they actually succeed? I¡¯ve begun to suspect they didn¡¯t, because how else would have we found ourselves here, in this situation? And the other Prophets seemed obsessed with war and domination. I don¡¯t think Troytin was always so¡­ psychotic. You¡¯re right, I have changed. All words are just that¡ªmeaningless. What we do is far more important, but even that can be faked for a time. And there¡¯s no time to show you who I am now. That¡¯s the funny part. I have all this time¡ªand not nearly enough of it. So in the end, you have to trust me, don¡¯t you? I wish I had something more to offer. Trust is a fragile thing.¡±

    Torres was silent.

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to help my case much, either, because the fastest way to do everything I need to do is theft and deception. But I¡¯ve trusted you all these long years for a reason, and I hope that I never forget who I was.¡± She smiled. ¡°I won¡¯t lie though. It¡¯s a struggle, some days.¡±

    ¡°Was that speech planned?¡± Torres asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Mirian lied. ¡°If I plan out that part, you decide not to help. You respect honesty too much.¡± That part was true enough. But it was also true that Mirian already knew the result of this conversation. She¡¯d simply had it too many times. ¡°I have to go now,¡± she said. ¡°I need to finish several critical devices before I leave tonight. Thank you both, by the way. It¡¯s the foundations you laid that helped me get this far.¡± She stood and left.

    Next, she wrote and delivered her usual letter to Magistrate Ada laying out the spy cell and added Specter¡¯s incriminating documents. Then it was off to the banks to take out loans from each of them, then to the market to immediately spend it all on materials, some of which she resold. The letters of credit from Torrviol banks would be no good in Frostland¡¯s Gate; she needed gold. On her way to the Academy crafting center, Mirian stopped by the dining hall for an early lunch, scarfing down four more plates while the increasingly distraught chef looked on.

    The next few hours were dedicated to the myrvite detector and three soul repositories. Then, the noon bell rang.

    For the next part, she¡¯d have to move fast, because she was about to piss off half of Torrviol.

    To Grandmaster Ingrid¡¯s surprise (since she had gotten very interested in Mirian¡¯s craftwork), Mirian, upon finishing her last soul repository, took off straight up, levitating both herself and the bulky myrvite detector with the trusty old lift object. She dropped it off on Nicolus¡¯s balcony, then sped towards the Myrvite Studies building. With the second spy removed before he could carry out his mission, all the myrvites were alive and ready. Mirian bound them and killed them one by one until her repositories were metaphorically bulging with soul energy.

    Sentiment led her to drop a prepared note on the ground that said, ¡°Sorry Professor Viridian. I promise it¡¯s for a good cause.¡±

    Then she flew off again, to Torrian Tower.

    Here, the stolen spellbook¡¯s manipulate glass and slice metal would be critical. She applied an illusionary disguise as she flew, then arrived at the window two stories below Archmage Luspire¡¯s quarters, then used manipulate glass to silently open the window by burrowing a hole into it. Her work with Endresen had let her examine nearly all the security wards in the tower, and the ones by the window had the biggest flaw: they detected kinetic perturbations from the glass breaking, but not a piece of it being turned liquid and moved.

    The room would be empty, because Professor Endresen would be on her lunch break. She ran across the laboratory, out into the hall and the balcony overlooking the hollow center of the tower. Then, she could levitate up to Luspire¡¯s inner balcony, where he would be entertaining several rich donors to the Academy.

    The angle of approach was critical. Luspire¡¯s back would be turned, and this method bypassed almost all of the wards.

    As soon as she was on the balcony, Mirian drew from her soul repository so Luspire¡¯s strong aura wouldn¡¯t distort her spell, then used slice metal to cleanly sever the chain that linked his spellbook to his belt. Then she grabbed it with lift object. Once it was in motion and away from his aura, it was too late for him to do much. He turned in shock as she grabbed the book in her hand.

    Immediately, the archmage was standing and using an emergency catalyst he kept on his belt to grab the spellbook¡ªbut Mirian¡¯s mythril amulet and own powerful aura kept the spell from working. She lowered herself back to the balcony she¡¯d come from, then dashed back through Endresen¡¯s lab, dismissing her illusion spell as she did, and dove out the window.

    Adria¡¯s old levitation wand let her break her fall and she hit the ground running, running south to the Stygalta Arena. There, she found Winterblossom pacing about in his stable. She hit the eximontar with a thread of his favorite kind of mana, let him investigate her with his snout, then threw on a saddle, broke open the stable doors with a burst of force magic, and rode hard.

    Winterblossom didn¡¯t need much encouragement to start galloping. She rode him down streets that wouldn¡¯t have guards, zig-zagging to avoid their routes. This let her ride past the spy¡¯s headquarters, which she hit with Luspire¡¯s very own cascading inferno, then moved north towards the market.

    There were cries of outrage and curses as people scrambled to get out of the way of the galloping eximontar. Mirian let the stolen student¡¯s spellbook hit the ground as she rode, using the archmage¡¯s book to break open a case and lift out the mana elixirs inside. She nabbed her favorite traveler¡¯s pack, favorite cloak, a pair of nice boots, bundles of dried food, a waterskin, and a scribing set. Bedlam erupted in the market as levitated objects zoomed about every-which-way. A few arcanists tried to grab their materials back or use force spells to pull Mirian off her mount, but the spell resistance of soul-bonded mythril triumphed again, and Mirian continued her gallop out of the market square and towards Torrviol Lake, again taking a quick hook down an alley so she¡¯d avoid running into a guard.

    As she rode, she loaded the stolen pack with her stolen loot. As Winterblossom neared the lake, she tore off her own cloak and burned it and pulled on the new one. Behind her, half of Torrviol was in commotion, but by the time they found her trail, she would be long gone.

    There¡¯d also be an added difficulty in tracking her.

    As she neared the shore, Mirian levitated both her and Winterblossom across the lake. This version of Winterblossom, not yet used to levitating, kicked and hissed, while Mirian fed him mana and whispered soothingly in his ear. Then, they were across, and galloping hard north.

    After a half hour, Mirian slowed Winterblossom to a trot, and used the time to sort her things in her pack and cast collect water to fill her waterskin. She then systematically began cutting up and destroying Luspire¡¯s tracking glyphs he¡¯d hidden throughout his spellbook.

    When Winterblossom seemed rested, she fed him a mana elixir, which had him snorting and tossing his head about until she ordered him into a gallop again. She rode until nightfall, just making it to one of the traveler¡¯s obelisks. Then, exhausted, she pulled out the stolen scribing set and got to work, munching on jerky and dried fruit. Only when she¡¯d finished with the double-force bubble spell did she finally let herself rest.

 Chapter 163 - Speedrunning the Loop, Solem 2-3

    In the morning, Mirian went wyvern hunting.

    On previous trips, she¡¯d brought her myrvite detector up to identify their locations, and found several nests. She had to be picky, though. The lesser wyverns had shorter wings and thinner bones. She needed greater wyverns. According to Professor Viridian, the lesser and greater variants were the same species, but the greater wyverns somehow used the mana of their prey to reinforce and build their scales up until they were much tougher.

    While Winterblossom preyed on the nearby shrubs and generally menaced anything he noticed that had the temerity to stay green during winter¡¯s approach, Mirian started moving through her route.

    She flew up the nearby cliff and found a nest. The greater wyverns would be out hunting. If she flew after them, they¡¯d see a comparable sized flying predator-looking things, and avoid her. But as soon as their young started crying out for help, the quickly returned. Two enhanced force blade spells cut off their heads.

    Sorry little ones, she thought at the young wyverns. You¡¯ll see them again, though.

    Then it was to the next nest. A large adult male wyvern nested in a crack in the cliffside, and it liked to sleep in. Then it was off to the other side of the valley where a third greater wyvern nested. Her campsite was on the way, so she dropped off the three corpses she was manipulating with mass lift object. Once at the nest, she hid behind a pine tree that was downwind of it and waited an hour for it to return from hunting, then ambushed it.

    Back at camp, she carefully cut off the wings, then folded them up and wrapped a canvas over them, then bound them to Winterblossom¡¯s saddlebags. She could always fix the breaks with mend bone later.

    Then, it was back to galloping. As they wove up the foothills of the Littenord, Mirian gave Winterblossom his second mana elixir, and started levitating them both up the steepest portions of the trail. As they ascended the steep trails of the pass, Mirian downed her first mana elixir. One, she thought.

    They made it to the heights of the pass a few hours after noon. The sun was threateningly low in the sky. Mirian cast her nested perforated force spheres. She¡¯d tried it without Winterblossom, and while it saved mana, it cost speed; the extra weight was useful for tumbling down the mountain. Repeated practice with force spells had reduced the friction of the outer sphere, and changes to the perforations, reduced the drag. Winterblossom went through his usual overdramatic hysterics and Mirian enjoyed the thrill of it as they careened down the mountain.

    That was when she heard the rumbling.

    She looked behind her, at first not seeing anything. Then, they rolled through a clearing, and she could make out the white cloud moving down the slope behind them.

    Avalanche. Shit, the sphere¡¯s impacts must have triggered it near the top.

    They were still bouncing down the mountain, but it was only the second day and there was already an unplanned problem.  Let¡¯s assume we¡¯re traveling at the same speed, only I¡¯ll stop first when I get to the bottom. It might peter out as it hits the woods but¡­

    She looked back again. That¡¯s a big cloud. And a lot of snow on the mountain. She did some quick calculations based on the estimated distance. We¡¯ll have¡­ two minutes to get out of the way? Then she looked back again. Actually, I think it¡¯s gaining. She revised her calculations. It¡¯s going to hit us near the bottom.

    Mirian wasn¡¯t sure if the avalanche impacting them would push them along or just bury them, and with her allies already in motion, an early end to the cycle would risk her true goals being exposed. She needed to be alive to counter any of Troytin¡¯s moves, if he made them. There was too much she needed to do to properly disrupt his moves, which meant her plans were vulnerable this cycle.

    The rumbling grew louder as they smashed into the stream gully, shearing off a pile of nearby icicles. A hard hit as they ricocheted off a cliffside jostled her. They were in the treeline now. When she looked back, she could see the white cloud approaching, streaming down the mountain like a malevolent fog.

    Winterblossom made an undignified grunting noise.

    ¡°There there,¡± Mirian said. ¡°We¡¯re going to be fine. It¡¯s just going to take more mana than I budgeted for.¡± And good timing.

    The rumble grew overwhelming and Mirian looked back one more time. She got a glimpse of the cascade of snow gaining quickly, and launched them into the air with her levitation wand.

    Levitating from a standstill was one thing. Levitating while tumbling down a mountain slope inside a primordial forest was another. Mirian found herself tumbling through the air, utterly disoriented as branches crashed into her. The air became white from the fine snow kicked up. There was a rush of cold air, and at first she thought it was above her, but then realized it was from the avalanche below. She used it to orient herself, and realized her concentration had slipped, and she¡¯d lost control of the force sphere spell. Which meant¡ª

    Mirian saw Winterblossom plummeting towards the churning snow, along with most of her gear and the wyvern wings. Without thinking, she assumed a dervish form, then used a blast of raw force magic to keep the beast aloft while she used telekinesis to flip through Luspire¡¯s spellbook to lift person.

    Winterblossom let out a panicked screech as the raw spell that had juggled him back up above the roaring slide ended and he started falling again, all six legs flailing. Mirian could hardly see him in the white cloud. She lashed out with her spell, just catching him as the avalanche continued to roar beneath them.

    She yanked him up, then flew over, remounting and recasting the layered force spheres as the ground below her finally settled. She¡¯d just lost a lot of mana for no good purpose, but at least she¡¯d prevented total disaster. It¡¯s too early to slip up. Mirian let the force sphere fall back to the ground, and finished her roll to the valley.

    ***

    She came up on Frostland¡¯s Gate two hours late. The avalanche had scared away the glaciavore she¡¯d been planning kill and sell. Worse, it was now night, and the artisan¡¯s shop was already closed. The wings would have to stay in her rented room, stinking the place up, and her project would be behind schedule. She stabled Winterblossom, stashed her things, then headed out to hunt. The glaciavore was lost to her, but she knew the locations of plenty of other myrvites. She¡¯d just have to sacrifice a few hours of sleep.

    ***

    In the early morning, Mirian woke well before sunrise, scarfed down another massive breakfast, then headed out to Beatrice¡¯s house. She used manipulate glass to open one of Beatrice¡¯s windows and telekinesis to open the latch on the shutters. She stole a bag of Labyrinth supplies, leaving an apologetic note in its place:

    <blockquote>

    Dear Beatrice,

    Hi, it¡¯s Mirian. I stole your Labyrinth supplies to help save the world (complicated). Lily is doing well in her classes and misses you. The spellward fails on the evening of the 19th as myrvites swarm the town, but if you set up barricades funneling them, they¡¯ll just run by. I¡¯ll stop by to chat some other time loop, but can¡¯t do that this time, sorry!

    Love,

    Mirian

    PS - Yes, really

    PPS - This part of the message exists to make sure you don¡¯t try to follow me into the Labyrinth like you did that one time. Please leave the elevator lowered or my timetable gets screwed up.

    PPPS - Remember that time a baduka boar chased you and Lily around as kids? Yes, really. Take care!

    </blockquote>

    The note had done the trick in a practice run, so she was hoping that particular bit wasn¡¯t subject to variation from small events. There were too many minuscule changes to properly account for and thoroughly test. She mended the window up so her friend¡¯s house wouldn¡¯t get too cold.

    She stopped by her room, got the wyvern wings and bones, then headed over to the artisans. Normally, she ordered her device in the evening, but since they didn¡¯t start work until morning, she hoped there¡¯d be no delays.

    ¡°Hi,¡± she said, calling them each by name. ¡°You don¡¯t know me, but I know you. We¡¯ve been working on a project together, one that will revolutionize travel to and from Frostland¡¯s Gate. Here¡¯s the blueprints,¡± she said, setting down the rolled up paper. ¡°Here¡¯s the payment,¡± she said, setting down a bag of gold. ¡°Plus full rights to the design. And, I¡¯ll deliver letters to your families in Palendurio and Cairnmouth, so have those ready tomorrow.¡± She listed their names and locations in each city. ¡°And the materials are just outside.¡±

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°You¡¯re a student,¡± one of the artisans said.

    ¡°Was. I¡¯m about to head down to the Labyrinth. I¡¯ll bring you a device from the Vault to tinker with. Deal?¡±

    To some degree, this was rehearsed. She¡¯d tried several different entrances, then hid and watched their progress on the crafting project, then debriefed with the artisans afterward about what was the most effective. Easing them in didn¡¯t work. Projecting overwhelming confidence did. Telling them about the time loop just led to too many questions. She let them fill in the blanks.

    The other thing that helped was the design.

    ¡°Hey, take a look at this,¡± the second artisan said. ¡°This is¡­ how¡¯d you learn our notations?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re my concept, your designs. I¡¯ll be back in the evening. It must be done by then.¡± She gave them a mock salute and a smile. ¡°See you in a few.¡±

    And then she left, leaving them with the gold and blueprints. Just outside, they¡¯d find the wyvern wings and bones. They¡¯d argue for a bit, then they¡¯d look at the design one more time and get excited. They were, after all, artisans, and they¡¯d gotten into the trade for a reason. They were looking for an excuse to make something beautiful, and they would.

    Mirian headed to the Labyrinth entrance. She was early by a few minutes.

    She waited two blocks down. The morning bell rang, and the guards, exhausted from the night shift, stumbled towards the barracks. It was a small village, and they were lax. Mirian started walking toward them. ¡°Morning!¡± she said in a chipper voice, and telekinetically lifted the glyphkeys out of their pockets, cutting the key rings as she did with slice metal. As soon as they were around the corner, the street was clear. She opened the portcullis, then the door. The glyphkey slots were on the outside of the structure, so to close it, she had to remove them with force spells. She let them fall into the snow so they were hidden, then activated the elevator.

    It descended. Mirian discarded her cloak and started her calisthenics, making sure she was limber. She tightened the straps to her pack, then got into a crouch.

    As the elevator hit the bottom, she started running.

    All the training she¡¯d done under Blooming Iron had given her a fitness level beyond what was normally achievable by a person, and by now, her body had been fueled by enough food that the adjustments had moved from her soul to her body. Under the Dance of the Dusk Waves form, she was even faster, both in reaction time and physical movement.

    She ran from room to room, knowing exactly which turn to take. She didn¡¯t need to look at a map.

    The labyrinthine horrors didn¡¯t know what to do with her. She ran right by them, vaulting over one that was blocking a door. Behind her, they started to swarm, but they couldn¡¯t catch her. Mirian cast a quick perforated nested force spheres when she hit the stairs and rolled right down them, using the momentum to travel down a hall, through a room, and down one more hall before she had to dismiss it and hook right, dodging the swipe of a horror that was waiting in the shadows.

    There were dozens of labyrinthine horrors chasing her as she hit the shaft leading to the third floor, but she leapt off and used levitation to catch herself. By the time they were able to scramble down the slope, she¡¯d already opened the door and stepped inside.

    She didn¡¯t look back. Mirian already knew they wouldn¡¯t follow.

    She loosened the straps on her pack and got out the supplies. By now, she knew every puzzle well, and it was simply a matter of quickly and efficiently applying each solution, either with a series of short spells, moving pieces around, applying magichemicals, or hitting the right switches. While she worked, she caught her breath.

    The death corridor opened up. She stashed her supplies, including Luspire¡¯s spellbook this time, retightened her straps, and took a deep breath, and charged in.

    She leapt, took two steps, leapt again as the wall slammed shut behind her, then was dancing across the tiles. When the gravity flipped, she twisted, landed in a perfect roll and was back on her feet in a second. She leapt from platform to platform fast enough that she was through the next door before they even began to fall into the spikes.

    Mirian took the next rooms at a steady pace, leaving her pack at each exit so was lighter and could save that little bit of energy as she scrambled up pillars and leapt from platform to platform. When it came time for the golems, she kept the pack on and went faster. Her movements were economical, her routes, all planned. She moved through each room like a dance, and the golems might as well have not been there. She was simply too quick for them to have a chance.

    As she went deeper, she let the fires of the Last Breath of the Phoenix strengthen her; the antimagic field didn¡¯t stop her from siphoning soul energy from the repositories. When she neared the end, it was back to the Dusk Waves. Forward. Next platform. Here comes the slam. She rolled under the giant golem as it smashed the platform. The spikes came down all around, and she used one to stop her slide, then stepped up on it and leapt to the next platform.

    She let herself look back once as she reached the door.

    Perfect, she thought.

    The chaser golem was still two platforms behind her.

    She moved into the ecosystem room and caught her breath. She only had to bring two different energies below their starting point and the door opened. Then, it was a casual jog down the penultimate corridor. Mirian froze the abomination that emerged without turning away from the door. In a moment, it was open.

    Mirian gingerly took out the cubic container of relicarium, putting it deep in her pack. She left the extra Labyrinth supplies and fit in two of the relics. She didn¡¯t need to bring those, but she¡¯d made a promise.

    She left the final room at a light jog, continuing until she was back in the Labyrinth proper. Then she put on another burst of speed.

    Two slithering swarms tried to ambush her, the undulating shadow-creatures squirming out of tiny holes in the ceiling to drop down on her, but Eclipse was in her hand. She hit them both with an arcing slash without even slowing, then made the blade vanish. The bite of mythril was enough to send them fleeing.

    The labyrinthine horrors followed her next, growing in number as she moved through the maze until she reached the elevator. She picked up her cloak, levitated straight up the shaft, and then used a divination spell to locate the keys, still hidden in their little snow-piles. Remotely, she levitated them up into their slots.

    She heard the soldiers by the door swearing as the gate and portcullis opened.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m so sorry,¡± she said, striding out. ¡°I was working on repairing the elevator¡¯s spell engine. Did the morning guards not tell you? Anyways, I¡¯m all done,¡± she said, and telekinetically removed the keys as she walked off.

    ¡°Wait, how did you¡ª?¡± one of the guards called.

    ¡°Should we go after her?¡± the other asked.

    But they wouldn¡¯t.

    Mirian headed to the artisans.

    ¡°Here,¡± she said, setting the first relic from the vault on the table.

    The artisans stared at her. ¡°You were only gone for a few hours. Even a short expedition¡­ you went into a Vault¡­ but¡­ how did you¡­?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve got your letters to your family ready?¡±

    They gave each other glances, then awkwardly placed the letters on the table. Mirian took them, gave them a wink, then was out the door.

    Beatrice was staring at her from across the road, mouth agape. ¡°It really is you,¡± she finally said.

    ¡°Yup. Catch!¡± she said, and tossed the second artifact at her. Beatrice caught it, then stared at it, mouth opening again. ¡°Wish we could talk. But I have a train to catch.¡±

    Beatrice made a what the fuck? face.

    Mirian¡¯s project was around the back of the shop. They¡¯d fused the bones together just like she¡¯d asked, then used reinforcement glyphs to strengthen the wyvern-wings stretched across the frame. Without magic, it would have been impossible to create something like it so quickly, but with magic, it was ready. If the past loops were any indication, it had been finished about ten minutes ago.

    She strapped herself into her wyvern-bone glider, then activated her levitation wand. The nature of antigravity was a strange one; while it was efficient at gaining altitude, it was slow to actually move. She could move quite quickly using force spells, but the mana drain would be prohibitive.

    But there was a solution.

    The winds that came down from the Endelice Mountains were legendary. When Mirian had first come up with the idea of a glider, standing on the Littenord pass and watching the wyverns wheel about in the sky, she¡¯d wanted to use a glider to go north too. The prevailing winds, though, blew from north to south¡ªalways. Especially a few thousand feet up. There, the winds were even faster. Moving up to Frostland¡¯s Gate would have been impossible. Now that she was here, though, she was going to make the trip in a few hours. All it would take was an extremely light antigravity force to keep the glider at altitude, a gather air spell to help her breathe, and a warmth spell to prevent her from turning into an icicle.

    The winds would do the rest.

    Mirian couldn¡¯t help but smile as she ascended, leaving Beatrice and Frostland¡¯s Gate below. As she gained altitude, the village shrank down until it looked like a bunch of toy buildings. It was surreal to look at the world from so high, and thrilling. The wind ripped at the glider, and she accelerated.

    Below, the peaks of the Littenords slowly passed beneath her, while scattered clouds moved above her. Two days from now, another snowstorm would blow down, but for now, the winds were harsh but steady. The glider wings flexed and strained, but they held. Wyvern bone was naturally hardened by magic already, and the reinforcement glyphs would keep the device together just long enough.

    She thought about everything that was still ahead of her as she flew, keeping her gaze on the world below.

    It was beautiful. The white-capped mountains, the endless forests of dark green splashed with colorful bursts of mushroom trees, the turbulent clouds painted across the icy sky¡ª

    This place, she thought, like the Ominian was beside her in a dream. Beauty worth preserving.

    She took it all in. The Littenords slowly passed beneath her, then the forest. As the sun began to set, the horizon caught with a brilliant palette of fiery oranges and vivid pinks, the bottoms of the clouds looking like they¡¯d been dipped in surreal fire.

    Soon enough, she spotted the fading light glinting off the high spire of Torrian Tower. Below, glorious Torriviol, her second home. She smiled as she made her approach, then sighed. The fun part was nearly over.

    She used a burst of force to tilt the glider to wheel it around in a long arc, catching a glimpse of where the sunset was hitting Torrian Tower. As soon as the shadow crept up high enough, she knew the time. That gave her a few minutes to descend and catch the train, which was just now preparing to leave the station.

    Mirian glanced up at the glider. The wings were now perforated, and she could see the reinforcement glyphs beginning to fail. The scouring, icy winds were too much for the tightly-stretched wyvern membrane to handle, especially given the glider''s hasty construction.

    The platform below cleared, and the train started to move.

    Mirian broke out of her circling pattern and started her descent.

 Chapter 164 - Speedrunning the Loop: Another Perspective

    Torrviol, Solem 3

    Lily was walking back from the dining hall when she saw it. Several students were looking up at something, and, curious, she looked up with them. She¡¯d been on edge ever since Mirian disappeared. Then, if the whole town hadn¡¯t been in enough of an uproar over the spree in the market, two of the professors had gone missing. Also, Archmage Luspire was furious over something that had happened, and she didn¡¯t think it was over Professor Cassius¡¯s eximontar being stolen.

    She still didn¡¯t believe that Mirian had done it all. It must have been someone else. Either way, she was worried sick.

    Valen was walking beside her. Lily was sure Mirian hated her, but she¡¯d decided to attach herself to Lily, assuming that Lily knew far more than she did, as if proximity to her roommate gave her unique insight. The girl had quickly become an intolerable pest, with an appetite for chaos that made Beatrice look tame.

    Actually, she was somewhat tolerable; she did somehow learn every rumor going around the academy at lightning speed, which is why Lily also knew that the Magistrate had started quietly rounding up people on espionage charges, of all things.

    As if exams weren¡¯t stressful enough!

    It was getting dark out, though with her enchanted glasses, Lily hardly noticed. It also meant that, when she looked up, she could see that the thing the other students were pointing at wasn¡¯t a wyvern.

    Lily tugged at Valen¡¯s sleeve. ¡°Look,¡± she said, pointing.

    ¡°Is that a wyvern?¡± Valen asked excitedly. ¡°The bigger ones never come this far south! I hope it performs its call for us.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± Lily said. The dull, slow draw of her auric mana into the glasses was such a constant it was hardly noticeable, but she focused on it now. She tweaked the flow and enhanced the lensing portion of the enchantment so she could see the distant object better. Her breath caught. ¡°It¡¯s a glider. But how did it get that high up¡­?¡±

    Valen paged through her spellbook, then found her own lensing spell. She cast it, and the air in front of them distorted. The other student carefully moved it around, then her eyes went wide. ¡°No fucking way,¡± she said, voice full of awe.

    From her angle, Lily couldn¡¯t see what she was seeing, and the glider was moving fast enough it was hard to track in the dark sky. ¡°What?¡± she asked.

    ¡°I think that¡¯s Mirian. Five fucking hells.¡±

    The glider broke into a dive, suddenly accelerating.

    ¡°What!?¡± Lily exclaimed. ¡°No it¡¯s not. She¡­ how would she even¡­ why would she be¡­?¡± The glider was coming down fast now, heading towards the south of town. Lily started running.

    She wasn¡¯t sure why. It wasn¡¯t like she had any spells to catch her, and she couldn¡¯t quite bring herself to believe that Valen wasn¡¯t just lying, or wrong. All of it was so absurd, she wasn¡¯t entirely sure she wasn¡¯t just having a stress dream and would wake up soon.

    By the time she arrived at the south of town, Lily was out of breath, and there was no sign of the glider or whoever was in it.

    There was a crowd, though.

    ¡°Did you see it?¡± a man was asking excitedly.

    ¡°Yeah, that was crazy! He just swooped down and landed on the train!¡± a woman said.

    ¡°I think it was a woman,¡± a second man said, though the woman ignored that.

    ¡°Look! I got a piece of the glider!¡± a fourth year student said excitedly, and everyone crowded around. It appeared to be a piece of bone.

    ¡°Did you see who it was?¡± Lily asked the second man.

    ¡°I got a pretty good look,¡± he said, puffing his chest out as if he was proud of the fact. ¡°Craziest thing, though. She looked like she was dressed in an academy uniform.¡±

    Lily and Valen looked at each other. Neither knew what to say.

    ***

    Torrviol, Solem 3

    Archmage Medius Luspire heard the divination machine let out a pleasant chime. He stopped gritting his teeth and rushed over to it. His desk, normally tidy, was a mess, and he¡¯d snapped at his servant earlier in the day.

    It had not been a pleasant three days.

    First, someone had broken into the tower and stolen his spellbook off his person. With the strength of his aura, that should have been impossible. Worse, they had no idea who it was. Sure, there was that student who¡¯d gone missing, the same one who¡¯d apparently stolen Eskier Cassius¡¯s prized eximontar then rampaged through the market, but he¡¯d had his secretaries look into it. The student was completely unremarkable, and her last tripoint meter test from a year ago had put her at 28 myr. He¡¯d dismissed her as the culprit immediately, though something strange was going on there.

    Then, Magistrate Ada had quietly told him Praetorian Adria had disappeared just as she got word there was an entire Akanan spy ring coming to light. The first few arrests she¡¯d made had already confirmed some of the information in the documents she¡¯d gotten. The bloody Akanans. Shaking your hand with a smile, while their other hand reaches for a knife. Vadriach University knew about the research on the Monument. It had to be connected.

    And Adria. Fucking Adria. Bloody Gods, that conniving bitch, was the nicest thing he could think of her. She¡¯d gone from a staunch ally to a political player, only he still couldn¡¯t figure out whose side she was on, or even what game she was playing.

    Then, two of his professors¡ªand not just any professors, the ones helping lead the Gods¡¯ damned Divine Monument project¡ªhad vanished. Gone! Which was not like them at all.

    Worse, all this was happening right before the fortuitous collaboration between Torrviol and Vadriach University started. He was about to have Tyrcast¡ªMedius refused to mentally give him the title ¡®archmage¡¯ because he was sure he¡¯d fucked with the test results¡ªeating out of his godsdamn hand. Tyrcast, at last come groveling to him, because he¡¯d finally realized that Medius was holding the card he needed. And he could hold his hand to the fire over those damn spies. Briefly, he had a vision of Tyrcast kneeling before him. Wouldn¡¯t that be pleasant?

    But now it had all gone to shit, and the airship would be arriving soon.

    The Archmage strode over to the divination machine. A detection. A day ago, he¡¯d practically fed the thing a ton of fossilized myrvite, and it had found nothing. Now, his spellbook was nearby. The thief had been clever; they¡¯d ripped out almost every tracking glyph set. But almost wasn¡¯t all.

    He puzzled at the machine. The book was nearby, and judging by the location changes, moving fast.

    Medius rushed to his window and peered out, looking east across the town where the machine indicated. Up high, the last dusk light was glinting off something¡ªsomething that was also moving fast. He paged through his backup spellbook¡ªthe damn thing was an embarrassment¡ªand found his lensing spell. He cast it, amplified the power, and peered through.

    It was a glider. The thief was gliding toward the south of town. It broke into a dive. Towards¡ª

    That vile crook.

    Luspire could see the train, already in motion. The thief streamed toward it, diving like a falcon. Then, the wings of the glider flared up, the the entire machine ripped itself away as the thief carefully stepped onto the top of the moving train, landing with such precision it almost looked practiced. Just who in the five hells is that? he thought. At this distance, in the dark, he didn¡¯t get a good look at them, but he immediately called for his secretary.

    ¡°Get a message on a zephyr falcon, immediately,¡± he said, as soon as the man was in the room. ¡°Alert the Cairnmouth guard. Give them this glyph sequence to search for, and tell them I¡¯ve personally placed a bounty on this thief¡¯s head.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Archmage,¡± his secretary said, bowing slightly.

    By Medius¡¯s reckoning, there was a finite amount of respect in the world. He¡¯d had some of his stolen, but this thief was about to learn that respect could also be taken back by force.

    He stood by the window and scowled.

    ***

    Cairnmouth, Solem 4

    Lecne stared at a spot in the floor, feeling sick, feeling numb.

    You knew this might happen. It¡¯s the price we pay for our faith, he thought, but the words didn¡¯t comfort him at all. He¡¯d been moving around their little temple, doing things, saying things, but it was like watching a puppet move. He¡¯d gone to the market to look for those who needed their God¡¯s aid, because that was what he did. It was his purpose.

    But inside him was empty.

    Arenthia was dead.

    Really dead.

    He was supposed to be lighting incense. He was supposed to be putting on a brave face for the others. Pelnu had called him ¡®high priest,¡¯ and he¡¯d nearly slapped the man.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Wasn¡¯t his fault. Wasn¡¯t any of their faults. It was just fate. Bloody, stupid fate. He wasn¡¯t ready to be high priest. That was Arenthia. It had always been Arenthia. That beautiful old hag had dragged him back to his feet when his faith was at its nadir. He hated her laugh. Now, he would have given anything to hear it one more time.

    Altrukyst, guide her soul, no matter the path. Shiamagoth, shield her family, blood and covenant both. Zomalator, always, we look to your example. Help us see¡ªhelp me now see¡ª

    A door slammed. Lecne raised his head.

    Was someone here?

    Pelnu was sticking his head out of the kitchen.

    Had the Luminates found them? They had been sure the cult itself hadn¡¯t been compromised, but what if they¡¯d been wrong? He had a thin knife by his belt. If it came to it, he¡¯d die fighting to protect his family. He stood.

    ¡°Lecne!¡± came a cheerful voice as a young woman rounded the corner. ¡°It¡¯s been too long. Mirian, Seventh Prophet.¡±

    Lecne took a shocked step back as a shining rapier materialized out of the air into her hand.

    ¡°Here, it¡¯s the Sword of the Fourth Prophet, I took it right out of the Order¡¯s vaults. That always cheers you up. Sorry, running a bit late. Had to ditch some guards who were waiting by the station then destroy their divination machine, so that¡¯s kicked up a bit of a fuss.¡± Then she looked at him, and her demeanor changed. ¡°I still remember my promise. As you saved me, I will save your high priestess. Arenthia will stand by your side again. Not this cycle, but when it matters, she will.¡±

    He stared at her. She looked young, but those bright gray eyes held something more. There was a depth, an age to them. No, not a girl at all. And the sword, he knew. He had seen it once when he was still a priest of the Order. It was real. He clutched his focus, and the girl¡¯s soul blazed out before him.

    It was bright, unlike any he¡¯d seen, and it swirled with an intensity that reminded him of the Rift Sea at storm. When he¡¯d been young, he¡¯d worked down by the docks with his father, and had seen the untamed ocean. Now, here it was again, and in the center, by her heart¡ªa hole.

    A Prophet.

    A miracle.

    Zomalator, thank you, he thought, and knelt.

    ***

    Palendurio, Solem 7

    Bishop Lancel walked through the Grand Sanctum with a smile on his face. Everyone liked a good smile, and there were so few problems that couldn¡¯t be solved by a big smile, a friendly word, and a can-do attitude. Yes, there was that little problem with the finances. The bishop didn¡¯t quite know what was going on with that, but he was sure it was all just a silly misunderstanding, and would be resolved in no time at all. Best to keep it quiet, though. Rumors had a way of getting out of control.

    Another pilgrimage was making its way through the sanctum entrance when suddenly, there was a deep GONG!

    He¡¯d heard that sound very rarely. It was an alarm, triggered by¡ª

    A woman rushed by him, right through the center of the sanctum, much like an unexpected train in speed, if not size.

    He blinked. She¡¯d been hovering several feet off the ground, dark hair billowing behind her. The alarm-runes at the front gate¡ªwell, glyphs if he was being honest¡ªhad detected the levitation spell. He stood still, trying to piece together what had happened and what that meant. The Praetorians needed to get permission of the Pontiff to enter the Grand Sanctum, unless it was martial law, in which case, a bishop could approve their entry.

    A Luminate Guard was running toward him. ¡°Holy one, that was an arcanist. We couldn¡¯t stop her. She just¡ªI don¡¯t know where she came from, but she flew right by us. We need to get the Praetorians. Holy one, do I have permission to leave my post?¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, of course. Ah¡­ there¡¯s a procedure we¡¯re supposed to follow¡­¡±

    ¡°Yes, holy one. The Luminate Guard has heard the bell, and will rush to their duty.¡± The guard looked around, and cleared his throat. ¡°Normally we¡¯d form a line, there, with the high guard interspersed so that the blessed material rendered the arcanist¡¯s spells useless. But, ah, normally they can¡¯t fly. Still, we should form a line¡ª¡±

    ¡°Well, someone needs to get the Praetorians, then. Go on, I¡¯ll, hmm¡­ we¡¯ll do what we can, I suppose! The Ominian can¡¯t really expect anything more, can They?¡±

    The bishop turned, looking around. The intruder had headed straight back, but the narrow twisting passages of the Grand Sanctum would no doubt confuse her and slow her. But what was her intention?

    The room had broken into a bit of minor bedlam, with the pilgrims being hurriedly ushered back outside, to much wailing and gnashing of teeth. It would be a few minutes before the backup guards would be dressed and ready for battle. Priests and acolytes were running around everywhere. Soon enough, several guards from another section rushed by, and after some conversation, positioned themselves to block the entrances behind the Ominian¡¯s statue. The giant gate in the front was too big to protect, and too heavy to close quickly, but the smaller ones would stop her. She couldn¡¯t fly by anyone blocking a passage like that.

    Lancel hoped that he wouldn¡¯t be blamed for the problems. He didn¡¯t think it could be construed as his fault, but one never knew. Still, with a big smile, a friendly word, and¡ª

    The mysterious arcanist suddenly flew down from the upper balcony to his left, still traveling at incredible speed. She was holding¡­

    He only caught a glimpse of it as she rushed by, then she was out the giant gate.

    Are those the Holy Pages?

    Lancel¡¯s mouth dropped open. He stood there in shock. Oh Gods no, he thought, and his mind raced. For a moment, he stuttered, unable to say anything. Then the words came pouring out. ¡°After her! After her! In the name of the Ominian! She had a relic!¡±

    ¡°A holy relic?¡± came a dismayed cry.

    Luminate guards turned and ran after her.

    Lancel sat down on one of the benches and held his head in shock. Gods above, he thought. A relic, a holy relic¡ªgone. On his watch! He was never going to make the next rank of bishop now.

    Then, the panicked cries and dismay died down. At first, Lancel was confused. Then, he realized everyone had grown silent because they were looking at the dais. A man was standing where the bishops usually gave their sermons, the Ominian¡¯s statue looming large behind him. It was one of the vault guards, he realized.

    He recognized the man. Everad, he knew.

    Everad¡¯s voice was low but steady. He didn¡¯t shout, but his words were clear. ¡°Do not despair, brothers. The Luminates have done their most sacred duty this day. The age of the Prophets has come again.¡± He let a scroll unfurl from his hand. ¡°By Pontiff Oculo¡¯s decree, it is my honor to announce that the Prophet Mirian has arisen. As the relics served the Prophets, so shall they again. By the Ominian, let all that They have foreseen come to pass.¡±

    The room stood in shock, but only for a moment. Then, they all knelt, and Bishop Lancel rushed to join them, heart hammering. Everad waited a moment, then turned and knelt before the statue of the Ominian as well.

    ***

    Outskirts of Palendurio, Solem 7

    The estate alarm wards blared out, and Enrico Allard looked up from the report he was reading. A zephyr falcon had been sent to greet him that morning with it. There¡¯d been some strange, quite large movements of gold and contracts. One of the bigger players was making a move, he¡¯d decided. But they appeared to be targeting the Palamas holdings, because they were moving large amounts of fossilized myrvite around. And that didn¡¯t make any sense.

    Of course, there¡¯d been a lot of recent movements that didn¡¯t make sense. Enrico was only a bit bitter that the richer members of the family hadn¡¯t deigned him worthy of the deeper secrets of the family¡¯s maneuvers. Probably, it¡¯d take a few weeks to put together the full puzzle.

    An alarm ward being tripped was never a good thing, though. Likely, one of the lower rank servants had gone sniffing about one of the rooms they weren¡¯t supposed to be in. After all, if it was a thief, the perimeter wards would have been tripped first, and one of the estate guards would have alerted him. No one would be stupid enough to rob the place in broad daylight while everyone was up and alert, anyways.

    Enrico looked back to the report. His agents keeping an eye on the market had been told to be on the lookout for strange things, and nothing could be stranger than this. Fossilzied myrvite shipped to Sabbicita and Normarg? He pulled out a map, then put it away, then pulled out smaller regional maps since the places were too small to be on the larger ones. They were remote villages. They had no modern industry to speak of.

    Well, we can worry about it if we see a bunch of donkeys pulling a factory in that direction, he thought. Maybe it¡¯s a move to create artificial scarcity and raise the price, then resell it. Exacerbate the shortages caused by the war in Persama. But why move it to a random village? And they must know the shortages won¡¯t last. Those little rebellions will be crushed.

    Enrico looked at the short letter attached to the financial report. Allard contacts seemed to think the Deeps and Fort Aegrimere were butting heads over something, maybe to do with the war to the south. Whatever it was, something was happening. He just hated not knowing what.

    He pulled out a piece of parchment and his ink set and started a letter toward his uncle.

    Then, he felt a tingling sensation at his belt. He stood in surprise, and reached for the device. The manor safe room!

    Enrico rushed down the hall, shouting at the guards to follow. By the time he got to the basement safe room, though, it was already open. The secret bookshelf was ajar, the reinforced door, wide open. Enrico stared at it. He scrambled to check for the glyphkey in his pouch. It was still there.

    There were no other copies. The safe room glyphkey wasn¡¯t just a normal glyphkey, either, it used the same advanced enchantment techniques as the family seals used in bank transfers. Unbreakable.

    ¡°What in the five hells?¡± he said.

    ¡°Sir, I don¡¯t know,¡± one of the guards said, fear creeping into his voice.

    Enrico Allard stepped into the room. The cabinets were all shut tight. The chests, still locked. He stepped in further, and there was the crunch of glass.

    The case with his great grandfather¡¯s heirloom had been shattered. The archmage¡¯s spellbook was gone.

    Fury gripped him. They had no right. No right¡ª!

    He whirled. ¡°How did this happen?¡±

    ¡°We will find out, sir,¡± another guard said. He and the others rushed out to scour the place. Enrico moved to activate the divination engine.

    An hour later, one of the servants was discovered to have seen a ripple moving through the air above the gardens. Then, one of the windows had parted, as if it was a puddle being melted away. A minute later, the ripple in the air had appeared again, coming out of the window.

    Sure enough, one of the first floor windows appeared to have been melted.

    There were no other signs of the perpetrator.

    ***

    Alkazaria, Solem 14

    Sybil stood behind the counter of her artifice shop, giving the man before her a tired stare, hoping that through sheer force of will she could adequately communicate how much she wanted him to leave.

    ¡°This is outrageous!¡± the man said for the third time.

    Sybil shrugged. ¡°Sorry. This client¡¯s paying quintuple the usual rate. Their order gets priority.¡±

    ¡°Do you know who I am?¡± he exclaimed.

    She didn¡¯t, and told him as much.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ no one pays that much. They¡¯re not going to pay you.¡±

    ¡°They already paid eighty percent up front,¡± she said. Since her glare wasn¡¯t working, she bluntly said, ¡°Now please stop bothering me, it¡¯s a big order. Go find another shop¡±

    The man stomped his foot petulantly. ¡°But all the other artificer shops have said the same thing! I¡¯ve scoured through this entire district, and there¡¯s not a single shop that isn¡¯t busy with this ridiculous special order.¡±

    Sybil shrugged again. ¡°Great. I fail to see how this is my problem. However, it will become your problem if you continue to trespass.¡±

    ¡°Trespass¡ª!¡± the man said, nearly hysterical. But when he realized she was serious, he finally left.

    The artificer sneered at him as the door slammed, then put up a ¡®closed¡¯ sign and locked the shop up this time. Then she returned to the back, where four of her assistants¡ªplus three apprentices she¡¯d hired on a temporary basis¡ªwere all at work. The orders had been very large, paid for by bank transfer notes sealed with Allard sigils that were equally as large. However, the devices were incredibly simple. They burned a fossilized myrvite charge to do¡ªwell, nothing, it seemed, except burn the fuel. One of the glyphs was missing from the sequence. An energy glyph of some sort. However, the design was legal, and she was being paid enough not to give a shit about what her client was going to use it for. She¡¯d never heard of Nezzar Fabrication, but that didn¡¯t mean much. Likely, they¡¯d bankrupt themselves quickly, but their gold gleamed and that was enough for her.

    Already, they had a pile of nearly a hundred of the little devices.

    Down the street, her competition was also working on an order, also offering the absurd rate, though this one seemed to have come through a military contractor working with Fort Aegrimere. That didn¡¯t make any sense either, but maybe it had to do with the war down south. He was manufacturing actual explosives, combining earthshaker shells with a similar design. Again, the design didn¡¯t seem particularly useful, unless one were going to war with the local stonemole population.

    Didn¡¯t matter to her. She got out her scribing pen, sat at her table, and got back to work.

 Chapter 165 - Speedrunning the Loop - Solem 21

    Mirian sat in the heart of the Alkazaria Citadel around a long, crowded table. The large, domed room they were in was ancient. Long ago, kings had held meetings with their lords here. The old stonework and angular carvings on the wall were contrasted by the modern glyph lamps.

    Ibrahim was still missing, which meant, ironically, they were having to do things the hard way. By now, the sheer amount of changes in the timeline had made conversations like this far less predictable, and the events, more volatile. This time, a scout had claimed to have caught another sighting of Atroxcidi. Mirian wondered if it was chance, or Troytin leveraging the Deeps to screw with her. After all, she¡¯d been too busy with her own agenda to properly impede him this time.

    Torres and Jei sat to her left at the table. On her right was Praetorian Trinea. First Praetorian Voran didn¡¯t sit; instead, he paced around the table holding the myrvite detector.

    Since Mirian was disguised as Adria, she kept still and waited patiently to talk.

    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Voran asked.

    Torres glanced at Mirian. ¡°Yes,¡± her old professor said stoically, though Mirian knew she was nervous as hell. ¡°The beast will emerge. Then, it will seek out the largest source of magical energy it can find. We must strike it while it¡¯s weak.¡±

    ¡°You have airships. We have a target.¡±

    ¡°With respect, the target will wait,¡± Mirian said. ¡°The titan will not.¡±

    ¡°You have airships. What the hell can it do?¡±

    ¡°Burrow and wait them out,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Professor Jei?¡±

    Jei nodded. ¡°Iliyia¡¯s device tracked the beast moving back and forth underground. The logical conclusion is the titan can move within the fourth spatial dimension. This makes sense. The Elder Gods and myrvite titans are closely connected. What is necessary is spells that attack it there, in the arcane dimension. This is not something artillery can do. It takes highly trained expert spellcasters.¡±

    ¡°Consider Archmage Protocol,¡± Mirian said. Trinea, in an earlier cycle, had explained that the Praetorians had a common tactical playbook. ¡®Archmage Protocol¡¯ was the idea that, if you were going after an extremely powerful caster with unknown capabilities, you wanted to hit them as hard and as fast as possible with such overwhelming force there was no chance they could deal with it. Mirian would have rather explained how the protocol related to the Elder titan, but Adria wouldn¡¯t.

    The meeting hadn¡¯t been going as smoothly as she liked. She considered revealing herself a Prophet, but because she¡¯d been trying to lay low in previous cycles and had hidden herself, she didn¡¯t know how the Praetorians would react if she did. Better to stick with what she¡¯d practiced; combining all the routes together had been enough of a headache. The changes were all building on each other, and she¡¯d already been forced to improvise several times.

    The haze of exhaustion kept trying to settle on her. She¡¯d been burning soul energy from her repositories regularly just to stave it off.

    First Praetorian Voran looked at Mirian again, eyes narrowing. Finally he said, ¡°Director Arturus has been in contact with me.¡±

    That raised Mirian¡¯s hackles. He¡¯s at the forefront of the conspiracy within the Deeps. So it is Troytin¡¯s work. ¡°And?¡± she said, working to keep her voice steady.

    Voran still looked like he was trying to bore a hole in Mirian with his eyes. ¡°He told me some concerning things. Most worrisome, that Atroxcidi seeks to strike Baracuel. Soon. Very soon.¡±

    There was a sharp intake of breath throughout the room.

    Mirian sneered. ¡°The Department of Public Security has been playing politics with the Akanans. Their cell in Torrviol is out of control. I caught Nikoline Brunn sending false reports to the Capital. I don¡¯t trust them.¡±

    Jei looked worried, though to anyone that didn¡¯t know her, she still looked like a statue. Her old mentor knew she was improvising now. Another damned avalanche, Mirian thought.

    Voran¡¯s shoulders relaxed slightly. There was longstanding animosity between the Deeps and Praetorians. They had to work together, but there was a lot of competition, especially as the Deeps continued to encroach on the purview of the Praetorians. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me this sooner?¡±

    Mirian wanted to launch into a long explanation, but that wasn¡¯t how Adria talked. She said, curtly, ¡°It didn¡¯t seem relevant. It¡¯s not part of my mission.¡±

    Voran went back to pacing. ¡°I can¡¯t simply dismiss the report. If there¡¯s any truth to it, if we¡¯re out of position when he strikes¡­ I don¡¯t need to tell you how much damage he could do. And it would be the honor of the Praetorians that would die first. If the beast emerges, I have reason to order us north. But the mission comes first.¡±

    Damnit! Mirian thought. There would be no time to organize, and that would leave her myrvite hunters and other allies unsupported. The Praetorians were crucial for preventing the beast from usings the fourth dimension to evade them.

    Troytin¡¯s mobilized the Deeps. If he has Arturus, he has a lot more. He at least has a inkling of what I¡¯m trying to do, then. Which means, he has agents here.

    On a hunch, Mirian cast the celestial spell detect life. Sure enough, she could see someone who appeared to be in the wall. A secret passage, and someone listening. She needed to improvise further.

    ¡°While we continue preparations for the necromancer, let Professor Jei train the Praetorians on the spells, and Professor Torres lead the authorized scribing of the forbidden glyphs on the devices I¡¯ve prepared. That way, we are ready for both contingencies.¡±

    ¡°Done,¡± Voran said. ¡°Otherwise, all preparations are still to move south for the operation.¡±

    ¡°First Praetorian,¡± Mirian said with a slight bow, and left the room at a swift walk. The spy in the walls started moving too, the passage leading north. Mirian took a left and sped down the corridor as fast as was reasonable.

    She arrived at Saint¡¯s Hall, an expansive room with a tall arched ceiling, just as the spy in the wall stepped out of a secret passage and replaced both the hidden door and the tapestry covering it. The room had several guards lounging around, and several workers busy renovating a wall. She didn¡¯t recognized the man, but she noticed a bishop sitting at one of the tables. Bishop Saban. The bishop who liked to look at her funny. But she hadn¡¯t seen him since Ibrahim stopped attacking the city.

    None of the workers or soldiers in the room had reacted at all to the spy stepping out of the wall. Mirian embraced her soul-sight. Bindings, she saw immediately. That it was illegal for the Deeps to impersonate soldiers was irrelevant. She knew instantly the room was full of agents. But the spy who had come out of the wall was just another agent. The coin being siphoned from the Grand Sanctum to fund the conspiracy had come from the eastern temples. The connection came to her. Now she knew who was in charge of this operation.

    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

    Mirian ignored the spies, and strode over to the bishop.

    ¡°Ah, Adria,¡± Bishop Saban said, rising. ¡°I¡¯ve always said you had the courage of a¡­¡±

    He left the sentence dangling, waiting for her to finish it. Specter¡¯s tripwire word. Troytin told him I wasn¡¯t the real Adria, but he wants to check first. ¡°Apologies. I don¡¯t really have time. I have a lot to do by nightfall.¡±

    She noticed Saban¡¯s gaze narrow as she said the first of Specter¡¯s code words.

    ¡°And I lost my cerulean pendant on the way here. Commander Hirte was hoping I¡¯d wear it to the masquerade after this was all over. So I¡¯m not in the mood.¡±

    The bishop looked at Mirian, then looked at the gathered agents. He would know Mirian had the celestial bindings disguising her to look like Adria, but he couldn¡¯t know she wouldn¡¯t look like Nikoline with them removed. Clearly, he¡¯d been ordered to disrupt her plans here.

    Mirian stepped closer. ¡°The target isn¡¯t here yet,¡± she said in a harsh whisper. ¡°Who¡¯s fucking with my orders?¡±

    The agents started to reach towards their belts and weapons. Saban hesitated, then made a quick hand signal. They relaxed. The bishop brought his own voice to a whisper. ¡°I got orders from the director himself.¡±

    ¡°Bullshit. I just talked to Arturus. Someone¡¯s fucking with the operation. Is it one of the Akanans?¡± A lie had to be stated with perfect confidence.

    ¡°It had his seal,¡± Saban said, but he wasn¡¯t confident.

    ¡°You of all people should know how easy those are to forge. Check for the secondary tripwire word.¡±

    ¡°Secondary?¡± the bishop said, confused.

    Mirian thought of a word that would definitely be in Troytin¡¯s letter. ¡°Curse,¡± she said. ¡°He doesn¡¯t use them often, but he also isn¡¯t full Director yet, just Director of Operations, so it¡¯s necessary when a problematic cell is involved. And if you¡¯re going to plan an ambush, don¡¯t make it so hamfisted. This is embarrassing,¡± she said, gesturing at the room.

    Saban swallowed. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ ah¡­¡±

    ¡°Tell Voran whatever you need to. But I need us to go north. Understood?¡±

    The bishop nodded. ¡°Yes, Specter,¡± he said.

    Mirian let him walk away first. As he walked, he used three more hand gestures, and the agents in the room began to depart with him. Then she headed back to her quarters.

    Nurea was waiting for her.

    ¡°Oh good. They didn¡¯t get you yet,¡± the knight said. ¡°I just received an emergency communique from my contacts. The Deeps¡ª¡±

    Mirian sighed. ¡°I just handled it.¡±

    ***

    The following afternoon, a courier came to get her. Voran wanted to see her.

    Mirian was already supremely annoyed. They were running behind schedule. She¡¯d already done her whole thing with Commander Hirte and implied they¡¯d have time to properly talk after this was all over, so the airships had already departed. There were myrvite hunters who were no-doubt growing restless. Most of them were independent groups or contractors who competed with each other. They¡¯d be at each other¡¯s throats without direction.

    Surely, the Deeps liaison had told Voran about the corrected report by now? Then what was he waiting for?

    Mirian entered Voran¡¯s quarters. They were sparse. He¡¯d even directed servants to take most of the luxurious pillows and tapestries and hide them, though a few were peeking out from an alcove.

    Voran was pacing back and forth again.

    ¡°Welcome,¡± he said. ¡°I just got the strangest message. The Department of Public Safety rarely corrects its intelligence briefs, and when they do, it¡¯s a matter of months, not days.¡±

    He didn¡¯t say ¡®Adria,¡¯ Mirian realized.

    She held up a finger, and cast detect life. Sure enough, there was another spy listening in the walls. Since they weren¡¯t using any magic, Voran probably had no idea. A dozen defensive and detection wards, but he simply hadn¡¯t accounted for someone simply standing in the right place and listening. Too much reliance on magic. Mirian flipped through Luspire¡¯s book, then cast silent area, a barrier spell that stopped all sound.

    ¡°There¡¯s a Deeps agent on the other side of the wall,¡± she said. ¡°He can¡¯t hear us anymore. Use detect silver if you¡¯d like to confirm my claim.¡±

    Voran¡¯s spellbook flipped into motion. He looked at the section of the wall, perturbed, then closed his spellbook again.

    Then she noticed Voran¡¯s device on the table. A divination device that had, by its illusory readout, detected whatever it was looking for. It appeared to be a sequence of glyphs.

    Of course, she thought. Archmage Luspire was still looking for his spellbook. Of course he¡¯d contact the Praetorians. If she¡¯d missed even a single tracking glyph¡ª

    And she had, she realized. Normally, it didn¡¯t matter, but this time, with Troytin helping direct the Deeps against her, Luspire had more information. Gently, she put the spellbook away and looked at Voran. He¡¯d stopped pacing. His hand was at his side, holding a wand.

    ¡°I interrogated Professor Torres. In the end, I was forced to determine she did not actually know how the myrvite detector worked, nor how several of the glyphs are interacting. She could not explain how a celestial rune made its way into the design, nor its function. Then, I got a strange message from Archmage Luspire.¡± He glanced over at the detector.

    ¡°Don¡¯t signal the others yet,¡± she said, raising her hands so he could see they were empty. ¡°Hear me out.¡±

    ¡°What did you do with Adria?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Nothing. But Nikoline Brunn killed her three years ago. I needed to stay hidden from the other Prophet while I recruited your aid, only, he finally figured out what I¡¯m doing. He¡¯s acting through the Deeps, through Arturus. The original goal of the conspirators was no doubt to have the majority of the Praetorians off on a sandrunner chase through the desert while the coup took place, but now it¡¯s to stop me.¡±

    Voran stared at her. ¡°Why should I trust a proven liar and thief?¡±

    ¡°I require nothing on faith,¡± she said. ¡°The titan really will emerge soon. And I really am a Prophet. Watch.¡±

    She manifested Eclipse. Voran drew his wand and took two rapid steps back.

    ¡°That¡¯s the Sword of the Fourth Prophet, soulbound to me. I have a writ from Oculo, as well.¡± She tossed him the scroll. ¡°Prophets are above all laws and doctrines,¡± she said. ¡°Only, there¡¯s never been more than one before.¡±

    Voran looked at the blade, then glanced at the writ, wand still pointed at her. ¡°Who are you really?¡± he said, voice low and dangerous.

    ¡°A student from Torrviol. A nobody. You wouldn¡¯t have heard of me.¡±

    ¡°Still, I¡¯d like a name.¡±

    ¡°Mirian Castrella,¡± she said.

    Voran lowered his wand and looked at her. He was silent, his gaze unreadable. ¡°Fate¡¯s a funny thing,¡± he finally said.

    He said that before. She wanted to ask him about that, then she suddenly got the feeling it would be a waste of time. The mission¡¯s more important. I need this to be done this cycle. Now that Troytin had caught on to a genuine objective of hers, she might not get another chance.

    Voran was silent still, looking at her, so she spoke. ¡°The titan will emerge, and it may be the cause of the eruptions around the world. Or at least, connected to them. But the titan can¡¯t be defeated by a gaggle of myrvite hunters. I¡¯ve set it up like this: Adria will assign me as leader of the assault on the beast, and return to her mission to protect the Monument in Torrviol. Then, there will be no more deception. But we need to start moving north as soon as possible. The longer we delay, the more likely we run into a problem. Once the leyline erupts near the tracks on the 23rd, we¡¯ll be severed from the events to the west.¡±

    She looked at Voran. I¡¯m doing it again, she realized. Forgetting that she needed to explain each thing, forgetting how the things that had happened to her a hundred times were still new to them. She opened her mouth to start a proper explanation, but Voran interrupted her.

    ¡°So you¡¯re the next Prophet?¡± He looked at Eclipse, then brought his hand close to it. She embraced her focus without thought, and watched as his auric mana sizzled against the blade. ¡°Fate¡¯s a funny thing,¡± he said again. ¡°We go north tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°And keep this secret,¡± Mirian said. ¡°The more we stray from the plan, the less predictable the timeline gets.¡±

    ¡°Very well, Prophet Mirian.¡±

    True to his word, the Praetorians started moving north the next day.

    Soon, Mirian thought. She just had to keep the exhaustion at bay.

 Chapter 166 - Confronting the Elder Titan

    As a scarlet dawn broke on the 28th, Mirian surveyed her arrayed forces one last time.

    From her vantage on her command ship, Mirian could distinguish Annita even at a distance from her distinctive eyepatch. Her hunters were spread out in an arc in the forest, with stone walls woven through the trees. With them, she could make out the drab robes of the Cult of Zomalator, ready to act as healers. Lecne looked up at her as her airship circled. The cult wasn¡¯t exactly trained in battle, but life had hardened them in other ways. Plus, of all the allies she¡¯d gathered, they knew what was at stake.

    The five skiffs all had been retrofitted by Torres with enhanced artillery. Commander Hirte would be leading the airships in maneuver and attack patterns. For now, at least, he looked focused, rather than wistful. On another skiff, she saw Respected Jei, back straight, projecting confidence, even though Mirian knew she was terrified.

    More myrvite hunters, armed with armor piercing guns and spell mortars, camped out on the hillside that overlooked the emergence spot. Voran, Trinea, and the other Praetorians stood by them, though when the battle came, they¡¯d be using levitation sprints to quickly move around the battlefield. Mirian had warned them about the myrvite titan¡¯s anti-magic.

    Finally, Mirian had her surprise. The workshops in Alkazaria had completed their orders, and the devices had been unloaded and readied. Torres was overseeing that from a hill to the east, with Nicolus¡¯s assistance. The boy had insisted on helping, while Nurea had petitioned for the safest possible role.

    Back in Alkazaria, there was an investigation into bank transfer fraud, counterfeiting, illegal impersonation, and forbidden magic use. She¡¯d already left, though. They¡¯d be chasing a ghost.

    In Normag, the last piece of her plan was falling into place; a workshop and materials were being set up for her; the last of her special orders.

    Now, she just actually had to defeat a titan.

    Sleep deprivation and exhaustion clawed at her, but she suppressed them, burning another thimble of soul energy from the repositories at her belt. Every waking hour of the past month had been directed towards preparations. This is it.

    ¡°Send in the bait,¡± she ordered. One of the soldiers on the airship sent out a flare, and the men below started driving the oxen forward. Several times now, she¡¯d sent them to Apophagorga who had devoured them eagerly. This had trained it to expect the gift. The beast had never experienced the assault afterward. With any luck, the titan would emerge in the center of the formation, distracted by the animals.

    If not, she had contingencies.

    The oxen reached the center, where a prepared pile of oats kept them busy. While the animals grunted and chewed, the assault force waited.

    And waited.

    The chill of the air had long since settled into them, and she could feel the tension in the air. Mirian checked and rechecked her wands, spellbook, soul repositories and devices. The sun slowly crawled above the horizon. There was anticipation in the cloud of every breath.

    The divination device chimed.

    ¡°It¡¯s coming,¡± Mirian said, heart pounding. ¡°Airships, ascend,¡± she called out, echoing the command with a series of flares. The violet dot representing Apophagorga was rapidly tunneling through the earth. The mushroom trees by the oxen pulsed with light, and the ground began to rumble. The oxen looked around, oats forgotten.

    A violet flare shot out of the airship, followed by a yellow. Beast approaching. Mirian estimated the trajectory. Her heart leapt. Yes! It had taken the bait. A green flare followed. Target area.

    With an eruption of soil, Apophagorga emerged, nearly on top of the oxen. It gluttonously seized the now panicked oxen with its tendrils and began stuffing them into its maw, the large beasts blackening as their souls were crushed before their bodies even made into that darkened pit of churning teeth.

    ¡°First strike!¡± she called. A red flare rose high above the battlefield.

    The artillery spoke with a thunderous roar, and the black shell of the beast exploded. Below, high powered rifles erupted in volley, while Annita¡¯s team sent cascades of fire toward it.

    Apophagorga bellowed.

    Mirian felt it in her bones. Reflexively, she stabilized her own aura.

    The titan began to look around wildly. ¡°Second strike. Be ready for it to phase,¡± Mirian said using a remote speech spell to Voran. Sure enough, it appeared to vanish, and the Praetorians began their assault. Their spells appeared to do little, but Mirian knew they were detonating deep in the fourth spatial dimension.

    Three red flares went up next. If it couldn¡¯t phase, Mirian knew what it would do next. It was a terrifying predator, but it was also a creature of instinct. The cunning beast knew when to hide.

    The artillery officers had already loaded the earthburrow shells into their guns. As the third flare shimmered in the morning air, the guns fired. Mirian looked at the detector. Sure enough, Apophagorga was attempting to burrow.

    With a rumble, the specially modified shells exploded deep beneath the earth, sending up eruptions of dirt while the ground below trembled.

    Apophagorga phased back into visibility in front of them, nacreous ichor leaking from dozens of gaping wounds. It roared again, elephantine feet stomping, spined tendrils flailing.

    ¡°Fourth strike!¡± Mirian called. As the flares went up, all teams commenced their assault. From her vantage, she could see hundreds of spells and rifles bombarding the beast.

    The titan charged, heading for the treeline. The grievous wounds hadn¡¯t slowed it. If anything, it seemed to be moving faster.

    ¡°West group, immediate retreat. Hunter group south, cease mortar fire.¡± Mirian said. To Voran, she said, ¡°Praetorians, engage,¡± Several colored flares went up, and Annita¡¯s hunters began running. Apophagorga hit the treeline like a hurricane, body smashing into three pines, sending them toppling as its tendrils scythed through the underbrush and stone. The walls fell before it like playing cards.

    From the hill, the Praetorians took off, spreading out as they used brief levitation spells to ¡®hop¡¯ towards the beast, staying close enough to the ground that they¡¯d be fine if they were targeted with the titan¡¯s nullifying magic. They began peppering it with spells, targeting the rear legs.

    Apophagorga ignored the gnat-like assault to chase the hunters. They¡¯d scattered like they were supposed to, but it still caught three of them as it stampeded forward, consuming them in an instant.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°Hunter group east, advance. Drivers, wagons into position.¡±

    The titan continued its rampage through the forest, running down two more hunters and Pelnu. As Mirian watched with her focus, the soul energy in Apophagorga surged. Pulses of it ran through the beast, sealing off the gaping wounds. Its aura was still billowing about it like a cloud, suppressing almost all the spells.

    Mirian grimaced. They needed to hit it harder. ¡°Armor piercing rounds on three of the skiffs. Two keep earthburrow shells ready. Keep our altitude.¡± Either the titan was still reluctant to use its nullifying ability because of the high cost of soul energy, or the airships were out of range. Either way, she wanted the artillery hitting it as long as possible. With practiced hands, the gunners reloaded the guns while the pilots brought them into position. The nice thing about Apophagorga smashing up the forest was it destroyed any possible cover.

    The damn thing was inexorable. It had moved ahead, and now cut off the retreat of Annita and her group. Annita signaled for the others to run while she stood her ground, channeling an immense column of flame directly at the titan¡¯s mouth.

    Then she was gone. Despite her heroics, her team was gone a few moments later, snatched up by the roving tendrils. Thankfully, they didn¡¯t scream long.

    The artillery fired again and again, as fast as the gunners could reload. Black carapace shattered as the armor-piercing shells exploded. The titan¡¯s soul rushed into the wounds like a gyre. Gradually, the aura was retracting, but too slowly.

    Voran and his Praetorians continued to cast, most of their spells hitting it in the fourth dimension to discourage it from hiding there. When the titan paused, Mirian ordered another round of earthburrow shells. They had a celestial detect life fuse that would only detonate if it detected a large soul.

    With the west hunters scattered, the Praetorians became the beast¡¯s target. The problem was, the titan was too damn clever. Most predators were confounded by there being too many targets to track, but Apophagorga seemed to have no problem picking a target and then running it down. She watched as it targeted one of the Praetorians with a nullifying burst, then let out another roar. With her focus, she could see the roar let out a pulse of soul energy¡ªsome sort of natural spell¡ªthat continued to batter at the auras of the Praetorians. Each time it hit them, it sapped more and more of their mana. They had mana elixirs, of course. But will it be enough?

    Mirian had needed to use six elixirs already this cycle, far above what she had aimed for, but she still had more at her belt just in case. With her dervish training, she was confident she could detect and stabilize a bit of soul instability before it became a problem. Better to have to fix that than fail here.

    Another Praetorian was run down by the beast using repeated nullifying spells, then devoured, but most of them were retreating east as planned. The wagons were nearly in position. Apophagorga phased, pieces of its body seeming to vanish, then rapidly pounced. Another Praetorian fell.

    Unlike the hunters, though, they kept their discipline.

    ¡°Mortars, resume fire,¡± Mirian said as the titan came back into the clearing. ¡°All hunters, fire at will!¡± As the flares conveying her orders went up, the beast¡¯s body lit up with explosions and fire.

    Mirian clutched the railing of the airship, fingers white. Slowly, they were wearing it down. The titan had left a trail of ichor to and from the forest, and where fire had charred its flesh, its soul was struggling to regenerate it.

    The drivers of the wagons, seeing the titan approach, panicked, abandoning the vehicles and running on foot. Too soon. But the Praetorians will adapt. ¡°Tack southward,¡± she said to Voran. The First Praetorian didn¡¯t acknowledge her, but their loose formation began moving that direct. They filtered between the wagons, casting starting to grow wild as the beast pressed them hard, black nullifying rays shooting out each time they tried to levitate. Soon, they were just running by foot. She watched as Trinea downed a mana elixir, even as the titan roared again.

    The titan was forcing her hand. ¡°Phase shells on skiffs two and four, earthburrow on three and five. Command skiff, armor piercing.¡±

    If Jei¡¯s spells worked like they had on the stone moles, the phase shells would detonate as the titan tried to leap through the fourth dimension, the glyphs of the shell directing most of the energy there. Mirian theorized it was more vulnerable there, and given how little it was attempting to phase, she thought there was credence to the theory.

    Apophagorga hesitated a moment, then directed its many-eyed gaze directly at Voran.

    Shit, Mirian thought. ¡°Voran, you¡¯ve just become the target. Make it count,¡± she said through her spell.

    The titan charged, supernatural bellow echoing as it did. Then, as it approached the wagons, it scrambled to a halt, huge feet scrambling in the dirt as it attempted to slow its incredible bulk.

    It knows. It can sense it, Mirian realized. ¡°Detonate! Detonate now!¡± she screamed.

    An orange flare hung in the air. From her distant hill, Torres hit the first glyph switch.

    There was a sound like the very world tearing. The wagons near Apophagorga had been loaded with pure fossilized myrvite¡ªand an ignition sequence. The fireball that erupted was blinding.

    Mirian¡¯s ship was the closest; she¡¯d done the calculations and thought they¡¯d be far enough, but she¡¯d underestimated the burn rate of the fuel when multiple detonation sequences were applied. The shockwave shattered her eardrums and damaged the stabilizing wings of the airship. The ship began to list, sending two of the crew sliding across the deck. The pilot had been dazed by the explosion. Mirian rapidly cast her healing spells, first on the pilot, then on her ears, then the rest of the crew.

    ¡°Repair that wing. Pilot, course correct.¡± Mirian rushed back to the railing. The other airships were still in the air, though another of them had suffered some sort of damage. Its engine was smoking and its rudder was simply gone. It fired one last shell, but with no steering, it would be out of the fight.

    She looked down. Apophagorga was writhing in the ground as the D-class mana from the uncontrolled burn poisoned it. Its aura had become turbulent, and its limbs flailed. A screaming sound filled the air.

    ¡°Focus fire! All teams, fire, fire fire!¡± Mirian shouted, sending out the flare signals herself.

    Then she noticed something strange. The flows in the beast¡¯s soul had changed. They weren¡¯t gathering at the wounds anymore, but swirling about in spiral patterns¡ªthen brightening.

    Almost as if¡ª

    Mirian¡¯s blood ran cold.

    ¡°All units fall ba¡ª!¡±

    She was cut short as below, another explosion took place. This one wasn¡¯t of fire and brimstone, though, but of soul and raw arcane power. Apophagorga reared up. Four colossal rays of dark energy split from it, each hitting an airship directly in the engine. The glyphs on the engine shattered.

    The carapace on the back of the titan unfurled. It wasn¡¯t at all like a beetle¡¯s carapace moving to reveal wings; rather, it was like the fractal pattern of a crystal shattering, like the dark armor was splitting apart and vanishing into the air. Beneath it, Apophagorga revealed six great wings, covered in eyes and spines, the flesh and feathers of them swirling about like a pot of tar being stirred. Two more appendages, more like scythes than arms, erupted from it and stabbed at the ground to anchor it.

    Mirian lingered just long enough to get a look at it. She jumped from the airship, just before it began to spiral out of control, plunging toward the earth. As she fell, the beast sent out more nullifying rays. Mirian conjured Eclipse and interposed it between herself and the beast. She rapidly cast bursts of levitation to slow her fall, but even with the incredible spell resistance of the blade, the nullifying spell still tore at her spells. She managed to slow her plummet, but she was still falling far too fast.

    Desperately, she embraced the Lone Pine stance and kept casting, even as the dark ray followed her.

    In her peripheral vision, she could see all four remaining airships plummeting. She glanced at Jei¡¯s, and her heart skipped. Respected Jei had taken over the controls of her airship and was directing the ship directly towards the titan.

    No! Mirian thought, but she was too far, and Apophagorga was still targeting her. There was another explosion, and the shockwave passed over Mirian sending her dark hair flying and skirt billowing. The ray ceased, and Mirian managed a full levitation spell, just before she hit the ground.

    She grit her teeth, landing. The hunters had been decimated. The Praetorians¡¯ strength, depleted. The airships were out of the fight.

    Apophagorga loomed above her, twice as tall now that it was reared up on its hind legs. Its eldritch wings blot out the sky, and along its belly, she could see dozens of mouths, slavering and ravenous, filled with too many teeth.

    It falls to me, then, Mirian thought, and opened up Luspire¡¯s spellbook.

 Chapter 167 - The Archmage Mirian Castrella

    Mirian sheathed her wand of levitation and looked up at the transformed Apophagorga. There would be no running. In one hand, she held Eclipse like a conductor¡¯s baton, in the other, Archmage Luspire¡¯s spellbook. She looked around again. Most of her little army was decimated.

    She had one more trick to deploy. She also had a reserve force: her.

    Mirian telekinetically opened Luspire¡¯s book and cast an enhanced prismatic shield.

    Apophagorga raised one of its new, huge scythe arms and swung it at Mirian. There was a screeching sound, like steel being shredded and the arm¡ªstopped.

    Luspire had thought of everything: every energy type was accounted for, and the spell was even inertially anchored. The titan¡¯s scythe smashed into the shield, but all it did was crack the bone-blade of the limb.

    Mirian continued to pour mana into the shield as she flipped to the next spell: sunfire conflagration. She stepped forward, drawing from both her soul repository and aura to unleash a blinding torrent of fire. Apophagorga roared again as the flames seared it, but she weathered the withering winds. Pieces of her outer aura were stripped away, but it drained the beast¡¯s soul faster.

    Another scythe arm came down on her shield. As the blade hit, it sent up sparks and a flash, but again, the shield held. Mirian continued her attack, sending cascading inferno spells at the beast¡ªfireballs that exploded into more fireballs. The titan¡¯s flesh bubbled and blackened.

    Apophagorga slammed its body back down, elephantine legs sending fissures through the earth as it impacted. Mirian stepped to the side to avoid a fissure forming beneath her, while prismatic shield kept the tremors from unsteadying her. That brought its mouth close enough to Mirian she could smell its breath. It reeked of sulfur and¡ªstrangely enough¡ªgarlic. She could also smell its burned flesh. The titan¡¯s eyes glowed with wild desperation. The spined tendrils around its mouth all lashed out at her at once, gripping her shield like an egg it wished to crack.

    Mirian poured mana into the shield. ¡°Torres! Second package!¡± she said through her remote speech spell.

    ¡°But it¡¯s right on top of you!¡± she sent back.

    ¡°Now!¡± Mirian shouted. She downed a mana elixir, then another. She stopped casting offensive spells and directed all her mana to the shield, reinforcing it with soul energy. With Eclipse, she swung at the tendrils holding her fast, the adamantium edge tearing great rents into the appendages. The titan hissed and spit, ichor from its wounds covering the shield until Mirian could hardly see in front of her. She drank a third mana elixir, then grit her teeth.

    Just need to hold on a little longer¡­

    The remaining Praetorians and hunters were giving the titan everything they had, but Mirian had prepared one last surprise for the beast. Her ¡®seeds of chaos¡¯ weren¡¯t particularly powerful individually. Each one had only a tiny charge, and while it burned hot, it didn¡¯t burn for very long. When Apophagorga¡¯s aura was at maximum capacity, it was doubtful they would have done anything at all.

    However, they were easy enough to make that even an apprentice artificer could churn them out. The limiting factor was the antigravity glyph, but once she¡¯d gotten Voran¡¯s permission, it was the only thing left to add.

    One seed of chaos wouldn¡¯t do much.

    Several thousand seeds, though¡ªthat would do something.

    Her aura waned. She drank a fourth mana elixir, but cracks appeared in the prismatic shield. She fed more soul energy into the spell to add resistance to it. At the edge of the barrier, she could see her cast soul energy eroding at the edges of the titan¡¯s like so much acid. But the beast¡¯s eyes were locked on her. It took another step forward, then another, its mouth feet away.

    Then, the tendrils released her. Apophagorga let out a scream as the air filled with popping and cracking noises.

    Yes! Mirian thought triumphantly.

    The seeds came in waves from every direction, like the sheets of rain from a desert thunderstorm. The beast reared up again in pain, towering above Mirian. All along its splayed wings, fire burst forth, until its wings were in smoldering tatters. The titan¡¯s flesh melted as the seeds continued to ram themselves into it. It collapsed as the seeds smashed apart its four rearmost legs. Part of its shell rematerialized, held above its head. The beast continued to writhe and scream.

    Mirian cast sustained gust and arcane gust to keep the toxic mana left over from the seeds away from her. She maintained her shield, but lessened the intensity of the spell. Her auric mana was nearly depleted.

    The sound of the seeds crashing and burning continued, coming like endless thunder. Then, finally, there was silence.

    Mirian dropped the gust spells, breathing heavily.

    Apophagorga¡¯s eyes were closed. Had she done it? Had she actually done it?

    Then the titan¡¯s eyes snapped open again.

    Several of its eyes were blinded and covered in its foul, tarry blood. Its legs were mostly ruined, and its back looked more like a charnel pit than anything that should still be alive. Both its scythe arms had shattered so that only two stubs of bone poked out.

    The damn thing was relentless.

    With its front two legs and its mouth tendrils, it dragged itself forward, the ground shaking as it did. Mirian leapt back and cast levitation, but the beast¡¯s soul was still burning hot. It lashed out, first with a nullifying ray that grounded her, then with its tendrils.

    Mirian again found herself again inside her prismatic shield, trapped. She slashed at the tentacles again, sending bits of spine and flesh flying, but the myrvite titan¡¯s grip was ferocious. It snarled at her and redoubled its efforts.

    She reached for another mana elixir, but there were none left at her belt. She reinforced her shield from her soul repository, then realized the last one was as depleted as her aura.

    She couldn¡¯t fail, not now. The beast was nearly dead. Could she outlast it?

    Through her focus, she looked at it. It¡¯s still regenerating somehow. Even though its soul had been ravaged beyond belief and body burned, it was healing. She could see thin tendrils of soul energy going into it. It was pulling from everything it could¡ªblades of grass, shrubs, little rodents hiding in their burrows.

    Even if she had dealt it a fatal blow, it was far too tenacious to die before she did. She wouldn¡¯t even last another minute; her aura was nearly gone, the prismatic shield full of glowing cracks.

    Mirian¡¯s mind raced. The beast¡¯s soul was still far too large to bind entirely. But did she need to bind it entirely? I just need to weaken it and strengthen myself. But soul energy isn¡¯t enough. I need mana.

    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Soul energy would eventually bring more auric mana, but she couldn¡¯t wait for it to regenerate. She needed it now.

    The Last Fires of the Phoenix form could burn foreign soul energy for strength, but not mana. If it can be transformed into one type of energy, it can be transformed into another. There has to be a way.

    More cracks formed around her shield. She was out of time.

    She began casting the celestial bindings Lecne and Arenthia had taught her so many years ago, bindings that were now rote to her. Instead of trying to bind the entire soul, though, she used the celestial chains to bind a piece of it. She started with one of the tendrils that was trying to break her shield. The titan burning its own soul had made it easier to grasp pieces of it, since it was leaping about like a flame, rather than staying together like a ball of yarn.

    Normally, only the death of the creature could sever the soul entirely and let the energy be used or stored. But that¡¯s not what Apophagorga was doing. It was siphoning souls, and the organisms were dying as a result. What necromancers can do, she realized.

    Xipuatl was right about his unified theory, she had no doubt. The arcane force was just a step down in energy intensity, much like visible light was a step down from ultraviolet light.

    More cracks appeared in her shield. There was shouting coming from somewhere, but she ignored it.

    When she¡¯d soulbound the amulet, it had required her to first crystalize the relicarium, then re-excite it with her own soul energy. If the glyphs I used for that can be used on relicarium, why not soul energy directly? It would merely require changing a single flux glyph and using a tri-bound sequence to target the soul instead of the material. She had those glyphs and runes already scribed in preparation for her artifact.

    The resulting mana would be volatile, she guessed. B-class mana that would be harmful to keep as part of her aura¡ªbut if she expended it immediately, the damage to herself would be minimal.

    Mirian flipped through Luspire¡¯s book as quickly as she could, searching for the sigils she needed. She was down to the last dregs of her auric mana, scouring the remnants so that she could feel her soul being abraded.

    She found the last one and channeled, using what little soul energy she had left as a sheath to pull Apophagorga¡¯s soul energy through the bindings and into the spell framework.

    A trickle of mana came out. The transformation sequence worked! With her catalyst, she grabbed it immediately, feeding into the shield.

    Apophagorga hissed at her like a hundred furious snakes.

    Mirian redoubled her efforts, continuing to use the souls in her repository like a glove to protect herself from the clashing of energies.  More mana spilled through her new mana siphon spell. The cracks in her shield began to mend.

    Now, the balance had changed. It was Apophagorga that needed to act. With her shield reinforced and the beast weakening, she thought through the implications of her discovery. Soul energy could be pulled directly from a living creature, it just took a flaw in the soul that could be exploited, and an initial injection of soul energy to get it started. She could siphon pieces of the titan¡¯s soul into her repositories with one sequence, and use another sequence to siphon it for mana.

    Mirian¡¯s head ached as she started a third spell, this one almost purely celestial. The mental strain from holding three spells of such complexity pushed her to her limit, but she had no other choice. She was winning. Apophagorga let out a wailing cry as more of its soul was lassoed and drained, but it was too far gone to do anything except keep using the Last Fires-like soul-form; without that strength, it would collapse entirely.

    She continued to mana siphon and soul siphon. Apophagorga gave one last heave to try to crush her shield, but it was far too late. Its tendrils collapsed to the ground. The titan blinked at her, the burning light in its eyes at last starting to die.

    Apophagorga¡¯s soul energy was magnitudes more powerful than a glaciavore or even a frost wyrm. The amount of mana it output was immense. All of a sudden, she had more high-potency mana than she knew what to do with¡ªand she needed to use it, lest it degrade her own soul.

    Mirian fell back on a classic, efficient spell: greater lightning. She flipped to the page and cast.

    Blinding lightning crackled from her raised hand, crawling over the entirety of Apophagorga. Deafening thunder roared out, echoing off the hills. The lightning burrowed into the beast, leaving glowing holes and ravaged flesh.

    At last, the titan collapsed. Its glowing eyes turned glassy and dark. What remained of its shattered soul began to dissipate. With her soul repositories already refilled, she watched it fade.

    Mirian stood, triumphant.

    She turned.

    The survivors of the assault looked back at her, in awe, in reverence, in horror, in disbelief. First Praetorian Voran¡¯s aura was nearly depleted, as were the rest of the battered Praetorians. He had a strange look on his face. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me you were an Archmage, Prophet,¡± he finally said, and knelt. The Praetorians knelt with him.

    Lecne emerged from the forest leading a few of the hunters who hadn¡¯t routed. He knelt next, then moved to heal those in need. All across the unlikely battlefield, the ground smoldered with fires. Fallen trees and corpses were scattered about like puddles after a storm, along with the fragments of countless magical devices.

    Mirian breathed out. ¡°Rise, faithful,¡± she said. ¡°Help me dissect this beast. The catalyst it uses may be the key to stopping the apocalypse.¡±

    Those who had mana left began slicing apart the beast with large force spells. Many wanted a trophy from the titan, like a bone fragment or tooth. Others just wanted to rest or talk. Mirian did little talking herself, but by the end of the hour, word had spread that she was a new Prophet.

    Behind Apophagorga¡¯s skull, they at last unearthed a nacreous, glass-like substance near the brain-stem of the beast. Or at least, what passed for a brain. It was hard to say if the strange tangles of flesh were neural tissue or something else entirely. But the glass-like stuff tangled around the base of the skull glowed faintly, and gave the impression of reflecting colors that their brains couldn¡¯t quite parse. When light bounced off it, it was like indigo, but deeper. It was like orange, but more luminous and more ethereal. Other parts of the shone like a rainbow that had been inverted. Calisto and Grandpa Ennecus had been right.

    Gingerly, Mirian touched it. She could tell immediately. Like many myrvite catalysts, it couldn¡¯t be used in its current form, but there was no doubt in her mind this was the catalyst precursor.

    Mirian took the object, slicing apart the soft tissue connected to it. It was roughly the size of her arm. She¡¯d need to refine it, but she had excellent alchemists lined up in Normarg for the task.

    Then, she saw someone running toward them. Torres, she realized. With Nicolus and Nurea right behind them.

    ¡°Mirian! Mirian!¡± Torres was shouting.

    She looked puzzled. The cataclysm beast, the Elder titan, Apophagorga, was dead. What was the rush?

    ¡°The divination detector!¡± Torres said, stopping to catch her breath. ¡°It just caught a major event. Northwest of here. If it wasn¡¯t in Torrviol, it was damn close.¡±

    Mirian blinked. At first, she couldn¡¯t figure out what Torres was talking about. The divination detector was with me on the airship. Oh, except she had the other devices. I was taking leyline data in case the titan¡­ leyline data. Leyline. ¡°Oh shit,¡± she said, which was not very Prophet-like. The Divine Monument. He knew he couldn¡¯t stop me, so he blew it. And we¡¯re right on top of a leyline.

    ¡°Who has a mana elixir? Toss it to me.¡± One of the Praetorians did and she drank it, then pulled out her levitation wand. ¡°Evacuate everyone as far south as you can. If it just happened, we have maybe an hour before this section destabilizes. Spread the word if you can¡ªrun for Normarg. I¡¯ll see you there. I need to make sure this wasn¡¯t all for nothing.¡±

    Mirian flew over the hill, then started running, once again relying on the dervish stances to give her speed and stamina. She didn¡¯t dare take from the soul repositories, though. It contained the soul-stuff of Apophagorga, and she needed it. It wasn¡¯t like there was another one lying around.

    She alternated between flying and running. The entire reason the titan unburrowed on the 28th was because in most cycles, the leyline under them went haywire right after. The exact hour that the Divine Monument detonated had a large effect on the resulting collapse. It could just result in eruptions. It could also result in a full-on breach. She hated leaving her allies behind like that, but she couldn¡¯t risk staying close. The north leyline here was directly connected to Torrviol, and they¡¯d feel the effects within an hour or two.

    The other problem was the cycle would end two days sooner than if the Monument hadn¡¯t been destroyed. Refining the catalyst would take at least two days as the alchemical processes worked, and that would be if everything went right. The titanium lace around her template book was ready, but the tungsten-iridium alloy for the adamantium would take time to get right.

    She was almost there, but she couldn¡¯t rest yet. Mirian kept running.

 Chapter 168 - The Soulbound Spellbook

    Mirian tried to stay calm, but for once, as the apocalypse approached, she had something to lose. The alchemists she¡¯d hired were good, but they¡¯d still fucked up distilling the titan catalyst twice, which had caused unacceptable delays. The third try, they¡¯d finally gotten it using a fifteen-step process involving at least twenty magichemicals. While they worked, Mirian had restored the glaciavore-skin leather and its protection glyphs, as well as added new glyphs of her own. The titan catalyst was now properly integrated into the spine of the spellbook, and she¡¯d transmuted the titanium alloy to mythril, but the half-assed glyph-forge here wasn¡¯t capable of reaching high enough temperatures for the alloy they¡¯d need for the adamantium. When she¡¯d used spells to increase the temperature, she¡¯d accidentally destroyed the glyph-forge.

    They were nearly out of time. It was noon of the 4th, and the Divir moon would be falling soon. She cursed Troytin again for stealing those precious two days from her. At least her maneuver in Alkazaria seemed to have cut one of his networks of agents off. They trusted Adria more than him. She only found two Deeps hiding in Normarg, both of whom were easily disposed of because their soul-disguises made them stand out like signal flares to her.

    Over the past few days, hunters and Praetorians had started trickling back into the village. Torres had made it back. She¡¯d suffered pretty bad burns when the leyline had finally destabilized, but Lecne had healed her. Most of the casualties had been the first group of hunters to rout. Regrettably, she didn¡¯t even know their names.

    When she¡¯d told Lecne that, he¡¯d said, ¡°Then the faithful of Zomalator will mourn them. We relieve you of that burden. Go do what you need to do.¡±

    She didn¡¯t really have words for how much she appreciated Lecne, and had told him as much.

    ¡°Then actions will suffice,¡± he¡¯d said.

    Voran had said little since his return. Only things like, ¡°I wish there was something I could do now. Really do. Something important. I don¡¯t like¡­.¡±

    He didn¡¯t say precisely what that was, but Mirian understood.

    Normarg itself was ablaze with rumors. The hunters had started talking about the battle with the titan, and they had pieces of it to prove their tale. That, and the arcane eruptions were a near-constant thing now, so everyone had started to understand something had gone terribly wrong.

    From those eruptions, she could see that killing the titan hadn¡¯t stopped anything. Either it wasn¡¯t the cause of the destabilization, or the damage was already done this late in the cycle. It would be interesting to see how the beast reacted in the next loop. If she understood how it worked, once she bound the titan catalyst to her soul, Apophagorga wouldn¡¯t have it anymore. Or rather, the vast majority of it would be gone. They¡¯d had to discard a few ruined pieces already. She wondered if missing that much catalyst would kill it outright.

    As for the Holy Pages, Mirian was quite sure that binding them to the catalyst itself and completely enclosing them would keep them with the rest of the spellbook. She still had no idea how Elder time magic worked, but her study of the Luminate¡¯s holy texts and experiments with relicarium and bindings had at least taught her how the rules worked for the Prophet¡¯s artifact.

    Mirian was preparing the mold for the relicarium when she felt a presence behind her. At first she thought it was Voran, but then she realized the aura was too strong.

    ¡°I believe you have something of mine,¡± came a tired, slightly annoyed voice. Archmage Luspire.

    Mirian looked up from her work. Sure enough, it was the Archmage. Voran was just behind him, looking twitchy. A quick calculation told her there was no way she could protect the entire workshop from the Archmage. She needed a peaceful resolution here. ¡°I do,¡± she said, and cut the spellbook from her belt. ¡°You can have it back.¡±

    Luspire took the book from her. His face didn¡¯t seem to know whether it was supposed to look surprised or sneer.

    Mirian went back to the mold. ¡°Did Troytin tell you where to find me? He was probably going by ¡®Sulvorath.¡¯ Bratty Akanan with masculinity issues? Likes to boss around Tyrcast? He detonated the Divine Monument while you were gone.¡±

    Luspire opened his mouth. If she knew him¡ªand she knew him pretty well¡ªhe had prepared a very indignant speech full of subtle insults, but she hadn¡¯t reacted the way he¡¯d expected, so now he didn¡¯t know what to say.

    She turned to look at him again. His skin was discolored in several places, the scars making lighting patterns around his face. A Luminate priest had obviously seen to him, but he hadn¡¯t been able to completely heal him. ¡°You took the train from Cairnmouth to Alkazaria on the 23rd,¡± she said. The same one Nicolus and I took so long ago. ¡°What was it like, seeing a leyline breach? Seeing the very Labyrinth protrude from the earth?¡±

    Luspire turned to Voran. ¡°You were right,¡± he said, and flipped the Praetorian a gold doubloon.

    Mirian measured the mold¡¯s depth. Perfect, she decided, and stopped channeling her shape stone spell. She gave the Archmage her full attention. ¡°I apologize for the theft, but it was the only way. As you can see, we¡¯re down the final few hours. But when I tell the story of this, when this is all over, I¡¯ll credit you. It¡¯s your mentorship that got me this far. It was your spellbook I needed to finally put down the cataclysm beast.¡± He loved the flattery, she knew. And right now, she needed his help.

    Voran looked at Luspire, and Luspire raised an eyebrow. Voran sighed, and flipped Luspire the gold coin back. Apparently, the two knew each other better than she¡¯d thought if they were making ridiculous bets with each other about what she¡¯d say. ¡°It was Sulvorath,¡± Luspire finally said. ¡°He didn¡¯t tell me the leyline would explode. I should have gone back. But then I got too curious.¡±

    ¡°He probably didn¡¯t know,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Once he gets to Torrviol, he stays. What¡¯s he been up to?¡±

    ¡°Meddling in everything,¡± Luspire said with a slight sneer in his lip.

    ¡°The Monument?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Though I doubt they learned anything. As soon as I left, they lost their last expert. Tyrcast may know how to pay people to make engines, but he¡¯s no researcher. Neither is his fool apprentice.¡± Luspire chortled, a rather unnerving sound coming from him. ¡°He said you were an undercover Persaman mage sent to sabotage the Monument.¡±

    And at first, you believed him, Mirian thought. But then he would have changed his mind. Lies, no matter how oft repeated, were difficult to believe when reality contradicted them in so many ways. There was the other issue. Tyrcast¡¯s apprentice. Troytin finally figured out how bad he¡¯s been outclassed in arcane power. He¡¯s too late, though.

    ¡°I need your help,¡± Mirian said. ¡°And then the world will know you helped a Prophet forge the adamantium of her spellbook.¡±

    ¡°Adamantium?¡± Luspire said, raising an eyebrow. He looked at Voran.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°The Prophets are above the law,¡± Voran said.

    ¡°I need someone who can keep this metal at a very high, very precise temperature, then raise and lower it by exact increments while I work the soul energy,¡± Mirian said. She gestured at the glyph-forge. ¡°Even with Torres¡¯s help, that thing can¡¯t do it.¡±

    ¡°Child¡¯s play,¡± Luspire said with a sinister looking smile. His smiles were always sinister. He couldn¡¯t help it. He didn¡¯t know how he came off, and Mirian didn¡¯t think anyone was stupid enough to tell him anymore.

    She nodded. ¡°Then let¡¯s get to work.¡±

    ***

    As the sky darkened, Mirian gently set her spellbook into the relicarium. It was finally done. An intricate spiderweb of mythril wire protected the black glaciavore-leather cover. Around the edge of the cover were dozens of miniscule glyphs and runes, most of which Mirian had added, protecting the spellbook and its contents from every manner of harm she could think of. On the outer edge of the book in two connected ornate rectangles was the adamantium. With Luspire¡¯s help, she¡¯d finally gotten the thin material to not shatter as she imbued it with Apophagorga¡¯s soul. She¡¯d strained mightily, but had done it.

    On the inside of the cover were two miniaturized soul repositories with their own mythril conduits. Inside, the Holy Pages were integrated with the titan catalyst. They gleamed enticingly. Finally, she¡¯d prepared the surface as she had with the amulet, and not a moment too soon.

    Gently, she laid it down into its relicarium pool. The material shimmered and glowed.

    Mirian drew the last soul energy from her repository. This time, a crowd watched. Some knelt, some stood, but there was a collective tension in the room; a held breath.

    She went through the bindings one by one. As she did, her chest swelled with pride. With this, she would be able to explore new arcane physics. To her knowledge, no one in history¡ªProphet or not¡ªhad made a spellbook with this kind of capacity. At long last, she would have a tool fit for stopping the apocalypse.

    Mirian strained as she set the ninth binding in. Above, the Divir moon brightened, and began to descend. Mirian closed her eyes, feeling her spellbook¡ªher spellbook¡ªas it began to integrate into her soul. Prismatic lines, more brilliant even than those of Eclipse, began to circle her soul.

    She opened her eyes. The world trembled. ¡°I¡¯ll see you all again,¡± she promised. ¡°The Ominian watches over you. As do I.¡±

    A flash of green light. The world ended.

    ***

    Mirian awoke, and closed her eyes. She could see the spellbook circling her soul. She touched the catalyst and summoned it to her. Sure enough, the Holy Pages were within it. The first page still had a neatly scrawled ¡®M¡¯ and her test glyph. She smiled, and felt, for the first time in a long time, a sense of ease and peace. Even the drip of water from the ceiling couldn¡¯t dampen her mood.

    She changed into her uniform. Lily woke, and groggily reached for her glasses. ¡°Huh. You certainly look chipper,¡± she said.

    ¡°It¡¯s another beautiful day,¡± Mirian said, and gave her a hug. ¡°I¡¯ll see you around. I¡¯m going to go get breakfast.¡± And resolve the soul instability from all those mana elixirs, she mentally noted.

    ***

    By evening, Mirian had used Rostal¡¯s soul exercises to soothe the worst of the soul instability and was Endresen¡¯s new apprentice. She began work on her spellbook the next day. While she was now capable of scribing incredibly quickly, for these spell, she took her time, using only the advanced equipment of Endresen¡¯s labs to distill magic inks and scribe glyphs. The glyphs would be as perfectly formed as was possible with modern technology. Her magichemicals for the inks were measured precisely and blended by her own hand using the advanced alchemistry labs of Torrian Tower. When she scribed, she used the catalyst from her new spellbook. Together, those things would increase every spell¡¯s efficiency and potential power.

    She kept an eye out for an early arrival by Troytin in case he decided to change up his routine to try and ambush her, but other than that, she dedicated almost all her time to preparing spells. Mirian scribed her favorite spells from Luspire¡¯s book¡ªshe had them memorized at this point¡ªas well as the ones she constantly needed, like lift object and levitation. She added an array of spell enhancing glyphs, as well as the tri-bonded detect myrvite spell and celestial spells like detect life. She added her most advanced version of total camouflage, classics like greater lightning and magnetic explosion, and several less used ones like total hold person. She also added her newly discovered siphon spells, trying them out on some of the bog lions north of town on the night of the 5th. Then, she headed back to town and killed Specter in her sleep again.

    Already, she could feel the difference the new catalyst was making. Spells she cast took less mana, and had more power. She could even use it to channel soul energy like it was a focus, which simplified the casting and creation of tri-bonded sequences.

    Then, on the morning of the 6th, she surreptitiously levitated to the top of Torrian Tower and layered several lensing spells. She watched the route the airship took carefully, marking down the coordinates on a map, then transcribed the coordinates and reference points on the map in her spellbook. Gods, it was blessed relief to be able to write down something she wanted to remember across cycles.

    When she watched the Akanan airship land in the courtyard, she noticed Troytin looking around suspiciously. From her vantage at the top of the tower, she could see he¡¯d added a few more agents to the crew. Agents with soul disguises, she saw.

    It still wasn¡¯t clear to her exactly how much he¡¯d learned about her plans or capabilities from his cuckoo¡¯s nest in Torrviol, but it was clear that Troytin was coming far too close to critical information. It was a miracle he hadn¡¯t learned any soul magic yet. She would have to make sure it stayed that way.

    That night, she used detect life to monitor him in his quarters from the streets, then waited for him to go to sleep. She examined his ward scheme. He¡¯d figured out she was using manipulate glass to bypass the usual shatter wards, and had added different detection schemes. His door was warded to the hells and back. Next door to him was Archmage Tyrcast.

    However, the building was solid granite. Normally, that¡¯d be great for security, but while manipulate stone didn¡¯t work on mixed materials like mortar and brick, it did work on that. It took her an hour to carefully tunnel through the stone, using silent zone to suppress the vibrations of her work and air barrier to prevent the cold air from outside from reaching his room. Twice, she had to stop and use an illusion spell to cover up the wall while the guards did their nightly rounds, but she knew their routes.

    Once the hole was big enough, she silently floated into his room and cut off his head with Eclipse.

    The levitation spell finally triggered an alarm ward, but she was long gone by the time anyone started looking for her.

    The next morning, she went back to carefully scribing her spells in Torrian Tower.

    There was a great deal of chaos in Torrviol after Troytin¡¯s death, but none of it mattered to Mirian. Luspire and Tyrcast had their little spats, and the Akana agents rampaged around town being annoying, but none of it mattered. Without the other time traveler directing them, none of them cared about a quiet sixth year student working as an apprentice in the tower. For whatever reason, Troytin didn¡¯t like telling people about the time loop. That probably protected Operation Zenith from being questioned, but it also made his minions useless without him.

    When the Akanan invasion came, Mirian left town. There was no sense fighting that battle. It would take far more than two days of preparation to win, and the battle would just happen again no matter what she did.

    Instead, the next cycle, just before the 6th of Solem, she made her way out to a tall hillside twenty miles west of Torrviol, set up an anti-myrvite ward, and set up camp.

    At long last, it was time to put an end to the ¡®Troytin¡¯ problem. Permanently.

 Chapter 169 - Learning the Hard Way

    From her hill, Mirian watched the Akanan air yacht approach. In the end, it would be Troytin¡¯s predictability and inflexibility that would do him in. And his inability to conceive of a world where allies are better than underlings.

    Well, no sense ruminating on his deficiencies. Whatever they were, he had to go. Mirian waited for the airship to grow closer, then cast total camouflage and levitation. She rapidly rose up to meet the yacht, adjusting her course slightly as it approached.

    She waited, just above where it would pass, then embraced the Dusk Waves dervish stance for the extra reaction time. As soon as the deck was below her, she dropped down. The watchman on the deck heard the thud and turned, but she held still until he turned back. Then Mirian headed below decks.

    A carpeted spiral staircase brought her down to the first level. There, in the narrow hall, was Marshal Cearsia. She either noticed the distortion in the air or felt Mirian¡¯s aura, because her spellbook was in her hand in an instant.

    First, she¡¯ll try the shackle spell, Mirian knew, and sure enough, she did. The force shackles disintegrated against her spell resistance. Mirian summoned Eclipse to her hand and gave a downward slice through the Marshal¡¯s spellbook, which let out a burst of flame, then lunged, piercing her gut.

    Cearsia grunted, then tried to blast Mirian with a raw heat spell as she staggered back. Mirian blocked it with a prismatic shield, then used a force blade spell to cut off her head. The woman dropped to the ground. Mirian opened the first cabin door. One of the agents. She sent force blades through him, slicing his bed to ribbons, then moved to the next cabin.

    Troytin was sitting up in alarm. He reached for his spellbook.

    Too late, Mirian thought with a snarl. She used a blast of raw force to knock it out of his reach, then used total hold person. That would prevent him from moving, biting down, or even breathing too hard. She used force blast on the wall. The warded wooden hull cracked. She used disintegration ray to knock out the easiest-to-reach reinforcing glyphs. Behind her, she could hear commotion. She used force blast again, and this time the hull buckled. A third time, and she burst a hole in the wall. Troytin¡¯s eyes widened in alarm as the hull opened up into the open air, wind screaming by them.

    Mirian continued to hold him with the spell, dragging him out into the air with her. She switched to the Lone Pine stance for endurance, and used force grapple to give herself the pushes she needed to stay the same speed as the ship. Then, she took aim at the stabilizing wings with magnetic detonation, enhancing it with her full power.

    The metal anchoring the port wing shrieked as it was twisted. The ship began to list. She could just make out shouting over the roar of the wind. Mirian circled them under the ship, using more force grapples to keep them alongside it, then took aim at the second wing. With a gesture, it too exploded, ripping off entirely and shooting off behind them. Mirian used lift object to push the rear of the ship up, bringing the nose beyond any safe angle. With no stability, the airship began to spin, diving down as it did. Mirian used another magnetic explosion, this time aiming for the inside of the ship where she knew the primary spell engine was. The ship shuddered.

    Mirian cut her inertia with levitation and descended straight down, Troytin in tow. The skiff continued forward, plummeting faster and faster until it hit the ground and erupted in flames. Mirian watched the wreckage to make sure there were no survivors as she continued her descent. Satisfied, she brought the two of them to the top of a hill where her myrvite-repelling wards were still in place. She used detect myrvite to double check nothing would bother them.

    Troytin was looking at her, eyes watering because the total hold person spell was making it hard for him to blink. She used careful force blades to cut apart his clothing, leaving him only in his underwear. Sure enough, he had an arcane catalyst hidden in his boot. Mirian brought Troytin down so he was at eye level with her, then forced his mouth open, checking for any poison pills like Specter had. Nothing. She circled around him. Nothing. She checked his ears for any miniature devices, then used a series of divination spells to make sure she hadn¡¯t missed anything.

    Satisfied, she released total hold person and switched it to hold person, which would just keep his limbs and body immobile.

    ¡°Got you,¡± she said, giving him a fake smile.

    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Troytin said in Eskanar, and spat at her.

    Mirian blocked it with a raw burst of force, sending the spittle back into his face. ¡°That¡¯s not really endearing you to me. Not that it matters. In the end, I¡¯m only talking to you because I want one thing from you.¡±

    Troytin gave Mirian a condescending smirk. ¡°You¡¯ll get nothing from me. You might as well kill me. But whatever you try, it won¡¯t work. See, there¡¯s no way to pin me down. If you curse me, a priest will just break the curse. There¡¯s no way for you to reach me, because your primitive little country doesn¡¯t have proper airships. In the end, you are at my mercy. This little setback means nothing.¡±

    Mirian looked bored. ¡°You still think this about you. Do you know anything meaningful about the time loop? About the leylines? The Divine Monument? The Ominian? About the apocalypse?¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to know?¡± Troytin said smugly.

    Mirian sighed. ¡°Have you figured out that we were supposed to work together yet? Imagine. If you collected data on the leylines in Akana Praediar, I collected it here, and Ibrahim collected it in Persama, we could figure out what¡¯s disrupting them. You could mobilize the resources of the Akanans, building great spell engines. Ibrahim would be able to unite all the warlords in Persama and provide the fuel. I could get Baracuel under my thumb, bringing together its researchers and unlocking the secrets of the Monument. Together, we might have actually been able to stabilize the leylines and stop the moonfall by now.¡±

    Troytin laughed at her. ¡°You¡¯re a fool, and so is that Persaman rat. After you, he¡¯s next. There¡¯s only one Ominian. There is only ever one Prophet. And it will be me.¡±

    Mirian looked him over. ¡°Huh. You sure about that? You might want to¡­ lift weights, maybe? Learn a few more spells? Grow a few inches?¡±

    The other time traveler glared at her. She¡¯d broached a sensitive subject for him. She knew from his illusion spells he liked to present himself as taller and more muscular. ¡°The others underestimated me too,¡± he snapped. ¡°And one by one, I ended them. Jherica will never wake up now. Celen succumbed to despair.¡± He laughed. ¡°I didn¡¯t even learn the others¡¯ names. My little agents took care of them for me. The Ominian can see they were unworthy. After you all fall to me, the true trial will begin.¡±

    Mirian froze. Had he really just let that slip? Or was he playing a game with her? ¡°Where are they?¡± she asked.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to know?¡±

    That wasn¡¯t going to work. ¡°Did you know Specter was writing notes for herself all over your soul?¡± she asked.

    That gave him pause. ¡°Only a select few are blessed by the Ominian to be born with¡­¡± he started, but trailed off.

    ¡°Yeah, you really think the Ominian chose you as a Prophet, but wouldn¡¯t bless you with soul magic? Look, you¡¯ve been lied to by a lot of people, and you believe it because it feeds your ego. But the truth is a harder thing to face. Specter was manipulating you. Did you ever figure out where the hole above your bed came from?¡±

    Troytin strained against his bonds.

    Mirian rolled her eyes. ¡°For all intents and purposes, I can hold you indefinitely. I just stood against Apophagorga, a cataclysm beast. Do you really think you stand a fucking chance against me?¡±

    The other time traveler looked down, seeing her spellbook¡ªreally seeing it¡ªfor the first time. The ethereal shimmer of the Holy Pages. The adamantium and mythril frame.

    ¡°Now you¡¯re starting to understand. I wasn¡¯t running from you because I was weak. Unlike you, I actually have a plan to solve this.¡± Sort of. ¡°Now are you going to tell me anything useful? Do you actually know anything useful?¡±

    The man was silent. She could see his eyes darting around. Perhaps he didn¡¯t quite realize what was about to happen to him, but he knew it wouldn¡¯t be good.

    ¡°Behind you!¡± Troytin said.

    Mirian burst out laughing. ¡°There¡¯s no one around for miles. And if you didn¡¯t notice, Tyrcast and the other arcanists you brought along don¡¯t carry levitation wands. Bit of a problem if their airship malfunctions, don¡¯t you agree? I chose a place I was sure we wouldn¡¯t be disturbed. Unless you think the stone moles will save you?¡±

    Troytin struggled against the spell again, but it would do nothing. Even without her soul repositories, his spell resistance was too feeble to be a problem for her anymore.

    ¡°I know your measure too well. See, you could have apologized to me at any time. Tried to make amends. The thing is, you showed your true character when you had the upper hand. There¡¯s an old quote about that, I think. ¡®Power doesn¡¯t corrupt, it reveals.¡¯ Would you like to apologize? Finally do something to help stop these endless years of apocalypse? This is your last chance.¡±

    The Akanan was silent. His eyes were darting around, still looking for some way out. ¡°Fuck you,¡± he said.

    ¡°Very well. Those can be your last words as ¡®Prophet.¡¯¡± She said the last word with scorn. Then she began to cast.

    There was another spell she¡¯d been developing in Endresen¡¯s lab. A mixed celestial-arcane spell that required several tri-bonded sequences and a great deal of precision and control. Mirian closed her eyes and began to cast remove temporal anchor.

    Tiny prongs of arcane-celestial force entered the void in Troytin¡¯s soul. With her eyes closed, it was easier to imagine them moving into that four-dimensional space. She couldn¡¯t describe the image, but with the coordinates in her mind, she could see it. Gradually, she brought the force into contact with the four-dimensional blade wedged in his soul. She transmuted the energy from arcane to physical force and gently folded the first anchor blade.

    Troytin¡¯s soul roiled. He strained again, this time shouting out. ¡°What the fuck are you doing? Let me go! I¡¯m a Prophet! We¡ªyou said it yourself. We need to work together!¡±

    Mirian ignored him and concentrated. Another arcane tendril wove its way around the anchor. She pushed, and another blade folded in. She maintained the pressure, careful to keep the device steady.

    The other time traveler, at last, was starting to figure it out. For someone unaccustomed to soul magic, it might feel like something was crawling around his insides. A terribly unnerving feeling. ¡°Wait! Wait! Celen is in Mercanton, on Merchant¡¯s Avenue, above the wainwright shop. Jherica is in Vadriach, in the¡­ the University! I¡ªI don¡¯t remember where, but you can find him. Fuck, what are you doing? I c-can¡ªfeel it. A pressure. P-please stop.¡±

    Mirian folded the third prong up back into the device. Her brow furrowed as she strained with the effort. The device was trying to move, but she had to keep it steady. If she or it brushed the inside of the dimensional container it had created for itself¡ªor whatever it was¡ªTroytin would find himself removed from this cycle. If that happened, only the Ominian knew how long it would be before she got another chance.

    Troytin had gone pale and clammy. His voice had a tremor in it, and he was starting to slur his words. ¡°W-was lying about the o-other travelers¡­ w-wait¡­ was I? Whatever¡­ whatever you¡¯re doing¡­ y-you have t-to¡­ have to stop¡­.¡± He let in a sharp intake of breath. There were distortions in his soul like she¡¯d never seen before, originating from the last arm of the Elder device. ¡°C-can¡¯t r-remember. Never could figure out the¡­ the Monument. C-can¡¯t stop me¡­ too safe at Arborholm¡­ c-can¡¯t¡­ can¡¯t¡­¡±

    With the precision of a surgeon, Mirian folded the last prong down, wrapping the entire thing with stabilizing force. She wanted to keep the anchor, study it. Perhaps it could be implanted in someone more worthy. It would be her choice this time. She¡¯d finally have an ally, a friend, could stop being so lonely¡ª

    The last arm of the anchor clicked back into the main body. She gently applied force to remove it, but suddenly the thing shot out, sending Mirian stumbling backward. There was a crack! in the air as it sped past her, then a gentle rumble like distant thunder, then it was gone. Damnit! Mirian thought. It could have been Jei. It could have been Lily. Or Lecne. Or¡ªdamn!

    She looked longingly to the southeast. She couldn¡¯t tell exactly where it had gone, it had been moving too fast. She could stop a moving bullet with ease, but the anchor had moved with far more force than should have been possible. That should do it, though, she thought. She released the holding spell on Troytin. The hole in his soul was gone.

    ¡°W-what¡­ what have you done to me?¡± Troytin gasped, clutching his chest. He was covered in sweat and still pale.

    ¡°I¡¯ve removed you from the time loop,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re no longer a Prophet. You were never worthy of the name.¡± She burned his pile of clothes with a bit of raw magic and telekinetically flung the extra catalyst, his pistol, and his dagger off into the distance.

    Troytin let out a shriek and fell to his knees. ¡°No¡­ no! You can¡¯t¡­ the Ominian chose me! The Ominian chose me!¡±

    She had wanted to return to Torrviol with the anchor, but with that out of reach, she needed to see what she could learn from him. She looked down at him with disgust. Enteria comes first, she decided. ¡°For the rest of the cycle, we will live in the remote wilderness. After all, I can¡¯t risk you telling any of the other time travelers what I can do. If they realize the capability exists, they might try to learn it. And I don¡¯t want anyone like you learning to do what I¡¯ve just done. This cycle, you may redeem yourself by telling me about the Deeps. About Akana Praediar and the little conspiracy over there. Operation Zenith. Specter. The networks in Baracuel. What you know of Ibrahim. Anything you learned about the Monument. Or¡­¡± She hesitated. He had grown desperate at the end. She didn¡¯t think he¡¯d been lying, though the implications already disturbed her. ¡°Or Celen or Jherica. Tell me everything.¡±

    ¡°Fuck you!¡± he screamed. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you nothing! The Ominian¡­ He¡¯ll smite you. And restore me to my rightful place. You¡¯ll burn in the last layer of hell for what you¡¯ve done!¡± Tears streaked his face. He stood and charged at Mirian, though it was more stumbling than anything worrisome. Mirian stepped to the side and threw him like Rostal had taught her and he fell, sprawled out on the cold grass. He spit out a mouthful of dirt.

    Mirian sighed, then started dragging him north by his leg until he tired of having his face dragged about in the grass and rose to his feet.

    ***

    During the day, when she wasn¡¯t interrogating Troytin, Mirian hunted, practiced spells, or just spent time relaxing. Without clothes, shoes, or any weapon, Troytin wasn¡¯t going anywhere in the cold wilderness. At night, she used shape stone to trap his arms and feet, then set up anti-myrvite wards. Then they¡¯d pack up camp and move north again.

    By the time the Akanans invaded, they were miles and miles from the line of attack. Too far for any divination to catch them.

    In the end, she learned little. Troytin spent most of his last days cursing or begging. Occasionally, he¡¯d tell her tidbits of information as part of his pleading. Between the rants, lies, and bargaining, she picked up a few things. A bit about security operations in Akana Praediar. A few tidbits about the conspiracy and its leaders. Some more about the Deeps and the coup.

    Her nemesis¡¯s end was a pathetic sight. He begged and pleaded with her to restore the temporal anchor, as if it was even in her power to do so once it was gone. By the time the end came, he¡¯d stopped doing that. Wouldn¡¯t answer questions, wouldn¡¯t beg, wouldn¡¯t even speak. Just sat there, listlessly, staring at the ground, eyes red from crying.

    Mirian had little pity for him. He never tried to redeem himself. Redemption isn¡¯t for everyone, she heard Arenthia say.

    As Troytin watched the moon grow large as it came down somewhere over Persama, trembling in terror, Mirian knew, certainly, it wasn¡¯t for him.

 Chapter 170 - Finding the Castrellas

    On the 166th loop, Mirian took a train to Cairnmouth, bought some forged papers from the Syndicate, then took a passenger ship to Arborholm in Akana Praediar. She disguised herself as an Akanan soldier and snuck into the fort outside of the city. There, she met a promising young intelligence officer named Troytin.

    There was no hole in his soul, nor any marks on it. He did have a strange story about a hole appearing above his bedroom, but was as stumped as anyone as to how it got there. He seemed like a nice young man, though a few soldiers who knew him mentioned that if he got a few drinks in him, he¡¯d reveal something of a mean streak.

    Mirian left, satisfied.

    Once they docked back in Cairnmouth, she headed straight for Arriroba. By then, the train from Alkazaria to Madinahr was running again, so she spent the journey relaxing and eating significantly more food than her waiters in the dining car expected.

    ¡°Hey,¡± she said, when she saw Granpda Irabi. ¡°Can we talk?¡±

    He looked her over, then saw her eyes. He nodded gently.

    ¡°Did you know I was adopted?¡± Mirian asked as they slowly walked along the trail that led to the cliff overlook.

    ¡°Your parents never discussed the matter with me. But, yes. It must have been hard to find out. How did you learn it?¡±

    ¡°A heritability textbook in Professor Viridian¡¯s class. And I can¡¯t remember my childhood, except sometimes I can. But there¡¯s a curse on me,¡± she said, gesturing to her head. ¡°It does something to suppress those memories, especially if I think too hard about it.¡±

    Irabi nodded.

    ¡°When did I first arrive here?¡±

    ¡°You were five,¡± Grandpa Irabi said slowly. ¡°You were clutching onto your father¡¯s hand. I have never seen a child more scared or furious before or since.¡±

    ¡°My father. My real father?¡±

    ¡°Is Jeron any less your real father because you¡¯re adopted?¡±

    ¡°Yes. No. I don¡¯t know. I wish they¡¯d told me. I don¡¯t like lies. I like the truth.¡±

    Irabi nodded. ¡°Many say they love the truth, because they like the idea of that, not the reality of it. But I believe you when you say it. Perhaps they should have. But they didn¡¯t. People tell many lies out of love. We can¡¯t fix the past, though. All we can do is move forward.¡±

    Mirian started laughing at that. She knew Irabi hadn¡¯t meant it like that, but it was just too hilarious. She laughed so hard she started crying. It took her a few minutes to recover.

    ¡°I¡¯m a Prophet now,¡± she said when she recovered. ¡°I live the same month over and over. The past is all I have. There¡¯s no future anymore. Not yet.¡±

    Irabi looked at her. Their eyes met. ¡°That must be hard,¡± he said at last. ¡°I can see it¡¯s worn on you.¡±

    They started walking again. ¡°What do you remember from back then? I remember my fath¡ªJeron tutoring me in Cuelsin, then Friian. I remember being angry a lot at school. I remember trying to run away.¡±

    ¡°There was a doctor who came and saw you. Most people in the village thought he was very nice.¡±

    ¡°But not you,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Not me. His name was Silou Westerun.¡±

    Mirian felt a twinge of recognition. I¡¯ve seen that name before. Was it in Specter¡¯s papers? Or did Arenthia mention it? She summoned her new spellbook and wrote the name down on her notes page.

    Irabi watched this without comment, though his eyes danced with curiosity. ¡°Well, that¡¯s quite the trick,¡± he said when she was done. ¡°I don¡¯t know much else, I¡¯m sorry to say.¡±

    ¡°If he¡¯s still alive, I¡¯ll find him,¡± Mirian promised. They walked in silence, winding their way up the cliffs. ¡°It just¡­ it sucks. Knowing your parents have lied to you all this time. That they¡¯re not¡­ why didn¡¯t they tell me? And what happened to my real family?¡±

    ¡°Jeron and Dhelia love you very much,¡± Irabi said. ¡°They¡¯re on a trip to see you, you know. With Zayd.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Mirian said sadly. ¡°They never make it in time. I miss Zayd.¡±

    They continued up the path. Irabi let a leaf from a nearby shrub move through his fingers before he let it slide away. ¡°Jeron and Dhelia are your family. Your birth parents are also your family. Perhaps it is a blessing. You have two families to love, which is more than most people get.¡±

    Mirian smiled. ¡°I guess I never thought of it like that.¡±

    At the top of the cliffs, Irabi said, ¡°In the end, they are the best ones to explain themselves. No doubt, you will decide whether or not they made a poor decision or not, but first, you must hear them.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right, of course,¡± Mirian said. ¡°I always appreciate your wisdom.¡±

    Irabi smiled, and they watched the village from the clifftop together, letting the breeze tousle their hair.

    Mirian spent two more nights there, eating food with other families and chatting. Then, she left. With Troytin gone and Ibrahim still silent, it was time to find her family.

    ***

    In Madinahr, Mirian found an old classmate working the docks. She pointed her towards the office that handled passenger ships, and with a kind smile, she convinced one of the secretaries to check the manifests. Sure enough, her family had departed in the month of Cerelorn, well before the time loop had started.

    The ship was routed to Alkazaria. If she knew her parents well enough¡ªand she knew at least a thing or two about them¡ªher mother would want to take a barge up the Ibaihan River, then take the overland trails where they¡¯d then take another ship from Westbay. That would take them to the Florin Principality. Then, they¡¯d head along the west coast of Baracuel where they¡¯d probably stop by Palendurio and Cairnmouth. That was, after all, the same route they¡¯d taken Mirian on when she was little. The only difference is they¡¯d eventually make their way all the way up to Torrviol for Mirian¡¯s graduation.

    The question, then, was how far had they gotten. They¡¯d be in no hurry, she was sure, and would want to show Zayd all the sights and shrines they could.

    Likely, given the timelines involved, they¡¯d be about halfway through their route.

    Mirian took a train through Alkazaria to Westbay, thankful now that Ibrahim wasn¡¯t continuing his assault. She¡¯d have to figure out what the man was up to and if there was any hope of them working together, but now that she had a means of permanently removing someone from the loops, she was in no rush for that confrontation. Unlike Troytin, he hadn¡¯t overtly attacked her, though it was hard to say what he hoped to accomplish with his ridiculous conquest. Maybe he¡¯d realized how stupid it was. Though given that he¡¯d spent ten years grinding away at his personal war, probably not. Well, she could always hope.

    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    At Westbay, the port office was decidedly a great deal more hostile, and threatened to call the guard on her. Mirian left, then broke into their office at night and went through the manifests herself. The secretary had atrocious handwriting, but so had several of her professors. She was able to decipher it. Sure enough, three passengers, last name ¡®Castrella,¡¯ had departed for Florin on the Flower of the Tides. It would be her father who would want to wander the city. There were a great deal of museums and art exhibits, as well as the kind of architecture he found fascinating. Many of his schoolhouse lectures had devolved into asides on building styles and elaborate drawings on the chalk, especially once the other children figured out the right question could cut the time they had for the grammar lesson.

    Of course, her mother would be visiting the workshops, where some of the best artisans on the continent came to set up shops, often under the patronage of some wealthy donor.

    Mirian spent the day flying along the coast toward Florin. She checked the names of the ships they passed, but none of them were the Flower of the Tides.

    The Florin Principality was on the southern tip of Baracuel. Technically, it was autonomous, but given it was a single city with a bit of farmland and a minuscule military, it relied heavily on Baracuel finding it more valuable as an ally than a province. As Nicolus had explained, a great deal of the old Baracuel nobility¡¯s wealth had been hidden in Florinian banks during the Unification War, and then after the war it became a useful place to hide assets.

    The city itself was surrounded by colossal walls on the landside, and perforated with canals and docks on the seaside. It brought back vague memories of seeing the shining palace dome and floating through the canals, gaping at the colorful buildings. Of eating fried breaded fish and sweet candies. Of walking through busy streets where well-dressed merchants strode about in embroidered coats.

    She used total camouflage to get over the walls without being seen, then found a deserted alley to dismiss the spell. Walking through the wide boulevards and across the ubiquitous stone bridges crossing the canals, Florin hadn¡¯t changed at all from her memory. Well, except everything seemed a bit smaller now. She had been a little older than Zayd when they¡¯d brought her.

    Mirian began investigating the inns asking about for the Castrella family. It was a large city, though, and so many travelers and merchants passed through that it had a staggering number of inns. ¡®Two dark haired parents traveling with their young child¡¯ didn¡¯t exactly narrow things down.

    The innkeepers also tended to be cagey. ¡°We don¡¯t discuss which clients are doing business with us,¡± one told her haughtily.

    A flash of anger went through Mirian. She thought about how she could send the man flying back into the wall. Maybe if he was begging for mercy, he¡¯d be more pliable.

    Then she shook her head, dismissing the thought.

    Normally, there was a very simple solution for finding relatives. Blood or a scraping of skin added to a divination machine would usually do the trick. But I can¡¯t exactly do that, can I?

    After another day of no progress, Mirian went back to her old habits of establishing artifice workshops in her room. She¡¯d chosen a luxurious inn that included a large bathhouse on the third floor that looked out to the ocean, and her room was large and open, full of fluttering translucent fabric rather than walls. She tore a few down in one of the corners and started carving glyphs into the hardwood table.

    With a few fabricated bank transfer papers, Mirian had enough silver and gold florins to start throwing at the problem. She hired a large private detective firm, showing the investigators a fully formed illusion of her parents and little brother so they¡¯d know them by sight.

    ¡°Don¡¯t interact with them at all. As soon as you know where they are or where they¡¯re staying, you get a bonus in gold,¡± she told them.

    It was a strange request, but the corporations of Florin prided themselves on their dedication to their clients, and were used to getting odd tasks from the wealthy families that hired them.

    It took four days. By noon of the 22nd, they¡¯d found them. Mirian happily paid out the bonus.

    Jeron and Dhelia were staying at the Seventh Golden Bloom, though the name was far more pretentious than the actual building.

    By then, several strange glowing lights had been seen flickering beneath the ocean, and three leviathans had passed only a half kilometer from the docks, sending the whole harbor into a panic. In the mutterings of sailor¡¯s bars and nervous conversation of merchants, anyone with ears could understand something was terribly wrong, but no one was quite sure what.

    Only a few days left, Mirian knew.

    She made her way to the Seventh Golden Bloom that evening and waited.

    Sure enough, before dinner time, the door opened, framing two adults and a short, tired looking child. It was Zayd who spotted her first.

    ¡°Mi-ri?¡± he said, eyes going wide. When she stood, he shouted, ¡°MI-RI!¡± and charged into her full tilt, causing one man to swear as he had to swerve out of the way.

    Zayd hugged Mirian¡¯s legs with the raw fervor only children could muster. ¡°Zayd,¡± she said, putting her hands on his shoulders since she couldn¡¯t hug him back. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you so much.¡±

    She looked up at her parents. Real enough, she decided. Jeron was looking at her with a wide open mouth. Dhelia¡¯s eyes had gone wide, but then her brow furrowed into stern motherly concern while she tried to figure out what kind of conversation she needed to have with her wayward daughter.

    ¡°Mirian,¡± her father finally said, ¡°Aren¡¯t you¡­ ah, supposed to be attending classes right now?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go somewhere private to talk,¡± Mirian said. ¡°My treat.¡±

    Her mother asked, ¡°What happened? What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°Quite a bit. I¡¯ll tell you the whole thing over dinner,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll eat at the Sovereign''s Aerie. They have private dining rooms. Hey Zayd! Want to go eat really good food?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± Zayd said, finally letting go of her. His exhaustion had evaporated, replaced by boundless energy.

    Mirian picked him up and spun him around, then carried him in one arm.

    ¡°Uh¡­ we don¡¯t have the money for that,¡± Jeron said.

    ¡°My treat,¡± Mirian said, jangling one of her gold-stuffed pouches.

    Zayd started babbling about all the sights they¡¯d seen, though his pronunciation still needed work so it was hard to understand him. ¡°We were on a boat! I saw a purple fish and a blue fish but not any red fish and then there was a leviathan and everyone started running around on the deck and I saw them cast spells! That was the second boat not the first boat the first boat was boring. And then we went up one of the spires and I could see eeevverrrything!¡±¡ªZayd flung his arms wide, hitting Mirian¡¯s face¡ª¡°Oops sorry Mi-Ri, anyways, it was really high up and everyone looked tiny then we went to a bunch of temples and Da-Da said they were important so we all had to pray and be quiet like in class. Well, we don¡¯t pray in school but you know what I mean. Oh and we saw a drake from the boat, the first boat not the second boat and I ate a lot of good food it was chicken but it tasted good not like at home but one of them was too spicy and I spit it out but you¡¯re not allowed to do that at a rest-a-ront because it¡¯s against the law. But then we had a soup and there¡¯s candy sticks and I got to eat one because I was good in the temple!¡±

    Zayd continued without interruption until they¡¯d made it to the Sovereign''s Aerie, rarely stopping to breathe, and mixing everything around so it was utterly impossible to say what order things occurred in. Clearly, though, he¡¯d been having a great deal of fun. Jeron and Dhelia looked on with growing concern.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m going to put you down,¡± Mirian said when they were outside the doors. The Aerie was at the top of a tower that overlooked the bay. ¡°Then I¡¯m going to cast an illusion to make us all look rich and fancy because they have a dress code. You ready to be rich and fancy?¡± Mirian glanced up to make sure her parents understood she was talking to them too.

    ¡°Yes!¡± Zayd said.

    ¡°Rich and fancy people don¡¯t talk much, and they all walk around like this,¡± she said, puffing out her chest and assuming a haughty look.

    Zayd immediately puffed out his chest and frowned as he mimicked Mirian.

    ¡°This is going to set back years of etiquette lessons,¡± she heard her father say.

    ¡°Perfect,¡± Mirian laughed, and had to hold back tears. Gods I¡¯ve missed you, Zayd. She manifested her spellbook and cast a greater disguise, enhanced for multiple targets. She visualized each piece of clothing she was mimicking as light played around them, constructing their outfits piece by piece so that they¡¯d blend in with the richer crowd. Then the spell settled, and she dismissed her spellbook again. The mana cost was exorbitant. It was nothing a sixth year student would ever be able to manage. Already, she could see the look of worry on her parent¡¯s faces. But she wanted to have a proper conversation with them. And if Troytin hadn¡¯t been lying about the other time travelers, she wanted to make sure that conversation wasn¡¯t going to the wrong ears.

    They walked into the restaurant.

 Chapter 171 - Family

    Mirian walked into the Sovereign''s Aerie and assumed an aura of command. This was the Mirian who had commanded soldiers and led battles. Her voice brooked no disagreement.

    A puffed up Zayd wandered in after her, undermining her comportment only a little.

    ¡°We would like one of the private dining rooms,¡± she told the host.

    The host wore a coat with gold embroidery, with enchantments that gave the garment lines of swirling color. It was a monstrously expensive jacket. ¡°Such rooms require a reservation, madam,¡± he said.

    Mirian pulled out two gold florins and slid them his way.

    ¡°Mirian!¡± she heard her mother gasp. She wanted to say more, but Mirian patted her bulging coin pouch.

    The man took the coins. ¡°Right this way,¡± he said.

    As soon as they were seated and the door was closed, neither of her parents could contain themselves any longer. Her mother burst out with, ¡°Mirian, what is going on!? Where did you get that gold, since when can you cast illusions, and why are we eating at a place we clearly can¡¯t afford?¡± at the same time her father started with, ¡°Honey, your education is very important and I¡¯m quite confused as to how you¡ª¡±

    ¡°Almost,¡± Mirian said, dismissing the mass illusion spell disguising their clothing. ¡°I just need to check the wards.¡± She went through a few divination spells, then frowned. ¡°Shoddy work, but they¡¯ll do. And no eavesdroppers. Well, I have a couple of announcements. First, I¡¯m a Prophet. Second, I cracked the Allard seal formula so I can get us as much gold as we need for anything. Third, it won¡¯t matter, because the world will end in a few days¡ªfor you, at least. Fourth, I figured out I¡¯m adopted.¡±

    Her parents stopped talking and stared at her.

    Mirian shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m a bit bitter about not being told about that last one, but I also still have no idea how to break the rest of that news gently.¡±

    Zayd, who had been staring at the crystal chandelier and then tracing his finger around the carvings at the edge of the table, suddenly stopped, realizing the mood in the room had changed. He then looked down and realized his fancy costume had disappeared. He checked under the table first, then started looking around.

    Mirian summoned her spellbook and cast a color-changing light spell that she surrounded with a force sphere. She tossed it to Zayd, who brightened and began tossing it in the air.

    Her mother¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ a Prophet? Sweetie, I don¡¯t understand. How does that¡­?¡±

    The door opened and a waiter entered. ¡°For overlooking the dress code violations,¡± Mirian said, flipping him a gold florin. ¡°We¡¯ll have the chef¡¯s courses, paired with whatever wine you think is appropriate. After that, we¡¯ll appreciate as few disturbances as you can manage.¡±

    The waiter was slightly taken aback by the daughter giving orders, but seeing no protest from the parents, said, ¡°Yes, madam,¡± bowed, and turned to leave.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said.

    As soon as the door was closed again, Mirian explained, pausing every so often to change up the spells she was using to distract Zayd. She gave the brief version, not bothering with the myrvite titan she¡¯d just killed. She mentioned the existence of other time travelers, but not that she¡¯d just removed one.

    ¡°We¡¯ve had this conversation before, then?¡± her father asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Mirian said, looking at Zayd. ¡°Because I couldn¡¯t bear the idea of one of the others using you against me.¡±

    Jeron¡¯s face fell. ¡°But that means¡­ you went for over ten years without seeing us? How did¡­ you manage?¡±

    Mirian gave him a sad smile. ¡°I was lonely.¡±

    Her father¡¯s chair scraped loudly on the floor as he rose. He quickly walked around the table and wrapped Mirian in his embrace. Her mother followed, and then Zayd belatedly rushed in to join, managing to get his arms around her leg.

    Mirian didn¡¯t cry. She¡¯d expected to. She had every reason to. But her eyes stayed dry. It had been over a decade. She¡¯d had to forget about them. Until now, she hadn¡¯t realized that the distance she put between them that had started as a necessity had calcified into something more permanent.

    No one spoke. Eventually, the hug ended.

    She thought about the life she¡¯d had planned so long ago. I would have been an artificer in Madinahr. On holidays, I would have traveled back to Arriroba. When they ran errands in the city, they would have seen me. I would have watched Zayd grow up. They would have watched my progress. They would have been there for me.

    But all this time, they hadn¡¯t been there for her. Not out of any malice, but out of indifferent chance. It wasn¡¯t their fault. Nevertheless, the bonds of family had chilled and withered out of neglect, long before she¡¯d found out they¡¯d lied to her.

    Mirian summoned an illusionary bird for Zayd to chase around, then said, ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell me I was adopted?¡±

    ¡°Because we thought it would only hurt you,¡± Dhelia said.

    ¡°The doctor who saw to you said it was best for children to forget,¡± Jeron said softly.

    ¡°Doctor Westerun,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Oh. You remember him?¡± her mother asked.

    ¡°No. But Grandpa Irabi did. Were you aware I had a memory curse on me?¡±

    ¡°A what?¡± her father said, sounding shocked. He looked to Dhelia, who looked equally concerned. ¡°I¡­ suppose you¡¯re old enough now to know the whole story. There was fighting in Persama. Well, there¡¯s always fighting in Persama, but this kind was worse. We read about it in the broadsheets. It was in Mahatan, I think, that city by the oasis. A bunch of families got rounded up and killed.¡±

    ¡°It was that Dawn¡¯s Peace, I remember,¡± Dhelia interjected. ¡°A bad joke of a name. A bad joke.¡±

    ¡°I think that¡¯s right. Well, when refugees fled the city, they left behind a lot of children in the chaos. The Baracuel soldiers couldn¡¯t exactly just leave them, could they? So they brought them north, then tried to find families for them. We had been trying to, ah, conceive for some time, so when we heard about it, we volunteered.¡±

    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    Mirian tried to remember what Rostal had told her about the rebel group. Dawn¡¯s Peace has always been one of the smaller factions. They never could field an army until the time loop. But was that what Ibrahim did that made Rostal flee? It seemed there was little hope of Ibrahim being negotiated with. Then again, how old was he? How old had he been when the massacres had taken place? Ten? Fifteen?

    Seeing her grow quiet, her mother said, ¡°Whatever you saw as a child, it hurt you. Doctor Westerun said he had ways of helping children forget, and it was best to forget. He never said¡­ we never were told¡­¡± She seemed unsure of herself now.

    ¡°Never told the Department of Public Security used necromancy on children?¡±

    ¡°That can¡¯t be right!¡± her father said, gasping. ¡°If people knew¡­¡±

    Mirian gave a bitter laugh. ¡°What would they do, if they knew? I have a feeling I know what would happen to them if they spoke about it.¡± She thought of the printer in Palendurio. She¡¯d already been assassinated this cycle, along with her contact.

    ¡°We thought we were doing what was best,¡± Dhelia said. She swallowed hard. She wouldn¡¯t cry either, she never did. ¡°We were told your real parents were dead, and just didn¡¯t want you to go through the pain of remembering that.¡±

    Memories swirled about in Mirian¡¯s head. They moved about like a thick black fog. Each time she reached for a memory, it was out of her grasp, but there were fragments¡ª

    ¡°What about the cat I had as a kid?¡± she asked.

    ¡°We never had a cat,¡± Jeron said, confused. ¡°The Hadad family had a couple of cats. Maybe you¡¯re thinking of them?¡±

    Mirian furrowed her brow. If she tried to think about the cat directly, the picture became too hazy. But if she thought about the stone walls of her house, the long corridors lit by glyph lamps and the little garden that overlooked the endless dunes, she could catch glimpses of him. ¡°He was all mottled black and white, but with these dark red patches of fur. Slightly chubby. Meu. The cat¡¯s name was Meu.¡± She¡¯d remembered!

    ¡°Meow!¡± Zayd said. He was still chasing the illusionary bird around, but now he was acting like a cat.

    ¡°No, that doesn¡¯t sound like the Hadads¡¯ cats. Well, I suppose you must have had it before.¡±

    ¡°Who were they? My birth parents?¡±

    Jeron said, ¡°They didn¡¯t know, sweetie. I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    Mirian sat back in her chair. The waiter returned, carrying a large silver platter. Jeron and Dhelia returned to their seats. The waiter cast a side eye at Zayd, who had paused his chase to stare. ¡°The first course is seared bladefish steaks, complemented with Florinian cakes and fresh fruit just off the boat from Uxalak,¡± he said. He set the plates on the table. They both smelled and looked heavenly. Mirian barely noticed.

    ¡°First course?¡± whispered Jeron as the waiter left.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Zayd said, frowning as he poked at the fruits on his plate.

    ¡°They add a sweet sauce to all the fruit pieces. Lots of sugar. You¡¯ll love it,¡± Mirian said. She leaned back in her chair, her own food untouched. No answers here, she thought. Her father was tentatively trying the bladefish. Mirian still wasn¡¯t sure how they made the tart glaze that went over them. ¡°What was I like as a child?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Shy,¡± her father said at the same time her mother said, ¡°angry,¡± through a mouthful of cake.

    ¡°Well, yes, angry,¡± he agreed.

    ¡°I remember the breathing exercises. And the meditation.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you learned the meditation from us,¡± Jeron admitted. ¡°As soon as you learned the word, you started doing it before I told you how. It sped along your, ah, recovery, nicely, at least.¡±

    It had come easily to her in the Academy too, she remembered. Using an arcane catalyst had taken forever, but she¡¯d been the first among her peers to sense her own aura.

    ¡°Tell me about your trip,¡± Mirian said, finally starting in on her plate.

    ¡°Well, we came into some money. A man liked your mother¡¯s woodwork and bought up, well, half the inventory!¡±

    ¡°Twenty-seven pieces. All of the sculptures, plus a few practical works,¡± her mother added on. ¡°And overpaid for all of them. So your father and I¡ªMirian, I¡¯m sorry, it¡¯s habit to use that word. Would you prefer that we use our names?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Mirian said.

    ¡°Your father and I decided to surprise you during your graduation, and take Zayd on the same trip we took you on when you were little.¡±

    Irabi had already told her that.

    ¡°Who was this man?¡± Mirian asked.

    ¡°Went by ¡®Vyginto.¡¯ He worked for some merchant company. Seemed quite kind. From his accent, I think he was from out west. Is that¡­ important?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure yet,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Some things are just coincidence. But go on. Tell me about the trip.¡±

    The story of it lasted through the second course and desert. They had just left Alkazaria on the 28th of Cerelorn, making their way by barge up the Ibaihan River. By the 5th, they were in Westbay, then they departed on the 7th. She¡¯d been lucky to catch them in Florin. Another day, and they would have been gone, starting a journey by boat up the coast. They¡¯d only delayed it because of the triple leviathan sighting, which had frightened the port authority enough they¡¯d put a hold on all departures.

    Which was fine by both of them. Florin was their favorite city. Dhelia had gotten her hands on a special kind of myrvite wood that was veined with a softly glowing amber, and had been greatly enjoying the feel of the city, the cries of the gulls, and the smell of the ocean. Her father could live out the rest of his days just wandering the city and admiring the architecture and be happy.

    And Zayd was easy to bribe. There were several parks throughout the city, each of which had water magically pumped to them so that they had artificial waterfalls and pools for children to play in. Or, they could just get him any number of sweets sold by the street vendors.

    As their tale came to a close, Mirian said, ¡°When this is all over, I¡¯ll buy you a house here, if you want.¡±

    Her parents grew silent.

    ¡°You still look like we just sent you off to your final year of the Academy,¡± her father said. ¡°I keep forgetting. Then I keep remembering, because you carry yourself differently. Your cadence has changed. The way you look at people has changed. It¡¯s crazy to think you¡¯ve fought in a war. It¡¯s crazy to think there will be a war! Everything seems so¡­ idyllic, here. And now it seems wrong to take so much joy in it, knowing how horrible it is¡­ out there.¡±

    Mirian ground her jaw. They had no idea. Perhaps they didn¡¯t need to know. But if Ibrahim resumed his attack, her family would likely be encountering his army as it moved from Rambalda to Alkazaria. Worse, given the distances, there was little she could do about it.

    She had grown good at hiding her emotions, but these were her parents. They knew her too well. Her mother saw the dark look settle over her. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she asked.

    Mirian wanted to say ¡®nothing.¡¯ But she couldn¡¯t lie to them. ¡°You¡¯re better off not knowing,¡± she said instead. ¡°Enjoy it. You might as well enjoy it.¡±

    ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why it¡¯s all happening,¡± her father said.

    The waiter came to clear the last of their dishes. Mirian reflexively embraced her focus to check his soul. She waited until he left, then said, ¡°I don¡¯t know yet.¡±

    Her father furrowed his brow. ¡°You mentioned something¡­ an Elder God¡¯s monument?¡±

    ¡°The proximal cause of moonfall is the leyline collapse,¡± she said. ¡°But what that¡¯s fueled by, I don¡¯t know. Killing Apoph¡­ well, I thought it might be connected to a big myrvite, but that didn¡¯t affect the cycle. The Divine Monument¡¯s destruction can accelerate the collapse, but only by two days. The Akanans have airships interacting with the leylines, but its not clear what effect they have on them. And the Labyrinth is connected somehow, but it¡¯s unclear how. Since its arcane energy and dealing with the fourth spatial dimension¡ªwhich doesn¡¯t quite seem to follow the normal rules of a spatial dimension¡ªit could be there¡¯s significant details that are very difficult to get data on. Anything I study there has to be through inference, not direct observation. It¡¯s also unclear if the historical Prophets were tasked with things related to this calamity, though if they were, their contributions were clearly indirect.¡±

    There was a pause. Zayd had finally tired himself out, and was now lying with his head back on his chair, mumbling something while staring at the ceiling.

    Her mother leaned over. ¡°Honey, did you understand any of that?¡±

    Jeron cleared his throat. ¡°Some of it.¡± A somber silence came over the room. Finally her father said, ¡°I wish there was some way we could help.¡±

    Mirian looked at Zayd and smiled softly. ¡°You already have.¡±

 Chapter 172 - The Long Road Ahead

    Mirian paid for new accommodations for her adoptive family, one with guards. She contracted another company to keep an eye out on anyone attempting to surveil them. The nice thing about Florin was there were a lot of services available for anyone with the coin to pay.

    As the war and coup developed, rich families from across Baracuel found their way to the city, perhaps hoping neutral Florin would protect both them and their assets. Likely, they were right. The prices of luxury services and rented apartments went up across the city.

    She had promised herself to take this cycle easy, but she also didn¡¯t expect to return to the Florin Principality anytime soon. By the 28th, she¡¯d constructed another three leyline detectors. Sure enough, without Troytin to interfere, Cearsia ordered the destruction of the Divine Monument as soon as she¡¯d captured the city. From this far south, Mirian could only get poor readings.

    North of Alkazaria, there was no movement. Apophagorga was either dead or had simply decided to stay burrowed near the leyline.

    When the 4th of Duala came, she joined her family on the roof of the apartment after dinner. ¡°I like to watch. There¡¯s a sinister beauty to it. The auroras¡­ the eruptions. Such magnificent colors.¡±

    In the ocean, the dark sea shimmered with a bloom of light.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize the arcane eruptions were also taking place under the ocean, though I suppose it makes sense,¡± she added.

    Dhelia looked stricken. ¡°Why don¡¯t the Elder Gods stop it?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Mirian said. ¡°Maybe they¡¯re busy. Maybe they can¡¯t. Something happened to the Ominian. They seem¡­ wounded.¡± She thought of the multitude of wounds in the God¡¯s stone-like flesh, the dripping ichor. She thought of Them sitting on the throne of the Mausoleum, silent and still.

    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe it,¡± Jeron said. ¡°We just sent you off to your final year at the Academy. I can still remember you running around the village as a child, pretending to be a mage.¡±

    ¡°It was very cute,¡± Dhelia added, then looked over at Zayd. The ground shook again. Her mother looked down at the crowds below. ¡°They must be so scared, not knowing what¡¯s happening.¡±

    ¡°Scary even if you do know what¡¯s happening,¡± her father said.

    ¡°Not really,¡± Dhelia replied.

    Zayd let out a ¡°woah!¡± as another aurora danced across the sky.

    Mirian looked to the Divir moon. It should have started falling by now, she thought. Killing Apophagorga hadn¡¯t changed anything, and she knew for sure the Divine Monument had been destroyed. ¡°A moment,¡± she said, and returned to the room below where one of her leyline detectors was running. She activated the illusionary display. Without data from the other two detectors to triangulate, the information was incomplete, but it was enough for a basic analysis. The pattern of collapse beneath the surface looks typical. Breakdowns along the Palendurio axis, as expected when the Monument blows, then the effects propagate down to Persama where the moon falls. But it¡¯s not falling yet. Is it leylines in Persama¡­?

    She felt nervous hope surge through her. Did Ibrahim change tactics and start working on the leylines? Did he find a way to stabilize them? Or are there other time travelers, and they found a way to prevent their own Monument from collapsing?

    Mirian reemerged on the roof. ¡°Something¡¯s changed,¡± she said. ¡°We might not see the moon fall tonight after all.¡±

    Her father breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°Oh thank the Gods. I¡¯ve been trying to put on a brave face, but¡­ I really don¡¯t want to die. How much longer do we have?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she said.

    ¡°Well, I like that answer better.¡±

    ***

    The moon fell on Duala the 10th, six days behind schedule. Mirian had pieced together as much as she could with the leyline detectors, recording some of the most critical information in her soulbound spellbook. By the morning of the 10th, the amount of arcane eruptions occurring at regular intervals had been staggering.

    Mirian woke to the dripping ceiling again. Quickly, she fixed up the hole with her new spells before Lily was awake. Then, with a heavy sigh, she got ready to start her investigations.

    First, she needed to investigate the presence of other time travelers. With Troytin gone, the Republic Intelligence Division and the Deeps wouldn¡¯t be looking for her. She could finally start moving around in Akana Praediar and figure out just what in the five hells was happening over there. Perhaps she could even stop the war before it even started. If she could recruit allies with persistent memories, that would change everything. If they were her enemies, she needed to know that even more urgently.

    Second, there was the Divine Monument. She still wanted to investigate the possibility that the structure wasn¡¯t unique. Her delves into the Palendurio underground hadn¡¯t turned up anything yet, but it also hadn¡¯t been a focus. Jei¡¯s equations implied a second set of coordinates was necessary to make the Elder devices do anything. But, with her new knowledge of runes and tri-bonded sequences, there were new breakthroughs to make in magic, even if all she had was the Torrviol Divine Monument to study.

    Third, she needed leyline data. A lot of it. She needed to put detectors in the furthest flung places she could and figure out exactly what was happening so that she could figure out how to stop it. Or even if it could be stopped. With the soulbound Holy Pages, she could finally record data in detail. That would eventually allow her to do something like what Viridian did with his Akanan climate device, except modeling the leylines instead of the weather. Magical research also might assist her. There were still devices at the end of the Frostland¡¯s Gate Labyrinth with unknown functions, and there was that simulation room that seemed to be connected to the arcane eruptions somehow. There was also her new titan catalyst to study. While it had already made casting arcane and celestial spells easier and lent more power to her spells, she hadn¡¯t begun to understand the full implications of such a substance.

    Fourth, there was that damn memory curse on her. It was burrowed deep in her soul. She still wasn¡¯t sure how to pick it apart, nor how to dispel the curse safely. She needed to talk to the psychopathic necromancers who had done it to her as a child in the first place. This ¡®Doctor Westerun¡¯ seemed like a good person to start with, but investigating the Deeps and the conspiracy might get her information as a side effect. Reluctantly, she had to admit it was the least important of her objectives. The curse bothered her, but it clearly wasn¡¯t impeding her. The fate of the world came first.

    Though she¡¯d just made a priority list, Mirian immediately violated it by resolving to spend the cycle in Torrviol. She¡¯d just run wild across all of Baracuel for months. The time loop was still going. It showed no signs of stopping. A month of relaxing research sounded too good to pass up.

    She started by recruiting Jei and Torres, then got to work on the Monument as soon as she could. Perhaps ¡®relaxing¡¯ wasn¡¯t the right term. The Elder device was monstrously complex, and despite her encyclopedic knowledge of glyphs and runes, there were plenty of sequences used that she couldn¡¯t even guess the function of. She quickly became convinced that there were layers upon layers of glyphs beneath the surface, like a Allard bank seal, only far more complex. The more productive solution was a variation of what the researchers had been trying, which was introducing different energy inputs into parts of the system and seeing what resulted. In short, a great deal of drudgery, not unlike what she¡¯d need to do to study the leylines.

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    On the 10th of Solem, though, her plans of relaxation came to a grinding halt.

    She picked up the Torrviol Broadsheet to check the news, expecting the usual article about Dawn¡¯s Peace being defeated. Instead, the front page read:

    <blockquote>

    RAMBALDA REBELS! ATROXCIDI RETURNS! UNDEAD SIEGE ALKAZARIA!

    A sinister rebel group in Persama known as ¡°Dawn¡¯s Peace¡± used great treachery to slaughter the Baracueli peacekeepers in Rambalda. By the same treachery, these Persaman outlaws attacked the forts along the Southern Range, then attacked Alkazaria itself! Only by the heroic effort of the garrison was the surprise attack repelled. Once behind the walls of the capital, the soldiers thought they would be safe until reinforcements arrived. But the Torrviol Broadsheet has learned that the forces at work here are far more sinister than a mere rebellion!

    Just days ago, legions of undead soldiers emerged from the desert and joined the siege. These terrifying skeletal monstrosities, animated by foul necromancy, were the feared shock troops of the insurrectionaries during the Unification War.

    ¡°There can only be one explanation,¡± Commander Batima Ayral, commander of the Alkazaria garrison, stated to concerned citizens in an address. ¡°The necromancer Atroxcidi has returned. There are no necromancers in Baracuel, and our brave soldiers have fought hard to suppress the despicable practice in Persama. Only a necromancer of his power could command so many undead. But fear not! The Praetorians are with us, and our allies will soon come to our aid.¡±

    Martial law has been declared in the second capital and the surrounding cities. Military arcanists from across Baracuel are being organized to deploy to the south immediately. King Aurelius Palamas, speaking on behalf of Parliament, urged citizens to remain calm, and to do anything they can to support the courageous soldiers who will be fighting to protect them. He also assured the crowds that they had already invoked their mutual defense treaty with Akana Praediar. ¡°The vile necromancer will regret showing his face again,¡± his Majesty said to the crowds.

    What could have caused the horrible necromancer to emerge after so many decades of silence? Speculation abounds! Some think he was only biding his time to strike. Others suspect that nefarious Persamans worked in secret to recruit him to their cause, perhaps resurrecting the old blood cults so famous during the reign of the Triarchy.

    </blockquote>

    The article went on, with the baseless speculation only growing, and added a bit of history about who he was and his opposition to Baracueli unification. Mirian set it down, blood running cold. Now she knew what Ibrahim had been doing. Atroxcidi.

    She stared at the paper. What in the five hells do I do about that?

    She¡¯d tested herself on the tripoint detector in the underground and had reached 107 myr. That made her an Archmage, still a bit below Luspire, but stronger than most. But Atroxcidi had defeated an archmage who could reach 150 myr. Whatever soul magic she knew was no doubt paltry compared to someone who had actually been trained in the forbidden magic.

    Mirian read through the article again, then burned it with a flash of raw magic. If Atroxcidi had an army attacking Alkazaria that fast, the only explanation was that he¡¯d been recruited even earlier. It took time to move soldiers, even ones that didn¡¯t sleep. It also meant the necromancer was relatively close to where Ibrahim started. Even if she could acquire an airship from Cairnmouth on day one, it was unclear if she could find a way to stop the alliance. She still didn¡¯t know what he looked like, where he started, or how much he knew.

    Ibrahim hadn¡¯t made any direct moves against her, but with the powerful arch-necromancer at his beck and call, she had to act as if he was hostile. The risk he presented was too great to assume otherwise. Perhaps the Praetorians could have dealt with him in a surprise attack, but the Persaman rebel had no doubt told his new ally all about the battlemagi who¡¯d thwarted his assault on Alkazaria so many times.

    I need to stick to the shadows. No more gathering armies or revealing herself as Prophet to the masses.

    On the 11th, Mirian flew south of Torrviol and destroyed the train tracks in three places, downing several trees so that the repair job would be even more of a hassle. She wasn¡¯t worried about his army making it to Torrviol, but if Alkazaria fell, his agents might be able to disperse across Baracuel. Troytin had been able to get the drop on her because he¡¯d gathered information clandestinely first. She wouldn¡¯t make the same mistake again.

    ***

    That night, she finally had the dream of the Mausoleum again. She had missed its towering ceilings and the strange shifting geometry. She¡¯d missed the high windows that looked into endless stars. She started to walk, eager to walk through the corridors again, then stopped.

    Something was different.

    She knew the Mausoleum too well. She used it to help her memory. Something was out of place.

    Mirian looked around, first to the ceiling, then the walls, then back down the long hall towards the front where she¡¯d found several bindings scribed. Then her eyes settled on the Ominian, and her heart skipped a beat.

    There, in the Ominian¡¯s right shoulder, was a colossal needle.

    Her mind raced. She¡¯d seen the needles in Their body fly away, leaving behind the wounds. She¡¯d assumed it was symbolic, that it represented some injury that had been inflicted on Them. Perhaps during the Gods¡¯ War. After all, she¡¯d had apparently visions of that too. But now, she was reconsidering everything.

    Her thoughts went back to one of the dreams she¡¯d had, years ago. She¡¯d been here, in this room, only she¡¯d seen dozens of figures, obscured by shadowy robes. Realization struck her like a blow.

    She recognized that needle burrowed in the Ominian¡¯s shoulder. It was the same one she¡¯d removed from Troytin.

    Heart pounding, she asked, Is that what did it? She couldn¡¯t bring herself to believe this was some grand competition. Surely, they were meant to work together. I can¡¯t do this alone, she told the statue. But who can I trust? And how do I truly stop this? Surely, you didn¡¯t mean for this world to die.

    Or maybe it wasn¡¯t a statue. The whorls of thick flesh, colored like granite and studied with burnt-out eyes¡ªit was much like the flesh of Apophagorga.

    She took a step towards the Ominian.

    The Ominian¡¯s eyes opened.

    They bore down on her with the weight of worlds. Mirian collapsed to her knees, a thousand sensations suddenly overwhelming her. She saw the burning tree again, the anchors raining down into an endless sea, heard the cry of a child, saw an endless wall of fire, saw a thousand pieces of Enteria, saw the Labyrinth, heard Apophagorga¡¯s roar, smelled death, smelled roses, saw scoured battlefields, heard screams, heard laughter, saw blood, saw a smiling face. A man wandering a desert in despair. A leviathan¡¯s call, mournful and distant in an uncaring ocean. A creature, crawling through the Labyrinth as it shifted once again. It was too much to process; she placed her hands over her ears, but the sounds continued. She closed her eyes, but the images flashed through them anyways. She tried to scream, but there was never any sound in the Mausoleum.

    She found herself collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily, sobs wracking her body. Certain images stood out. The tree. Overlapping roads. A map on a table, shredded. A thousand branches; too much. No path. No map.

    A realization struck her, even more terrifying than before. The Ominian doesn¡¯t know. There was no correct path, just possibilities. Many paths. But one future. She sat back on her heels, staring up at the Elder God. Ominian, you have to guide me. It¡¯s too much. There¡¯s too much at stake. And I¡¯m not strong enough.

    More images flashed through her mind. A baby glaciavore, wrestling with its mother. A flower, not yet budded. A student, bloodied and exhausted, sword held loosely in her hands, unwilling to look her master in the eye. A young sapling, branches greedily seeking light in a hole in the canopy, a great tree fallen next to it. A word came to her mind.

    YET.

    ***

    Mirian woke, jaw clenched, her resolve hardening.

    A thousand challenges lay before her. She still didn¡¯t know if she faced potential allies or implacable opponents. Enteria was still dead; she and the world had no future, not yet. But the Ominian had chosen her for a reason. She had placed her faith in Them, and in turn, They had placed Their faith in her. It was a monumental responsibility. Her task was still impossible. Regardless, she couldn¡¯t relent.

    There was work to be done.

    ====

    https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/81002/

    patreon.com/user?u=16861347</a>