The Years of Apocalypse - A Time Loop Progression Fantasy

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.

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—”

“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—”

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.