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—

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—wait—is that—what?” the professor said, and behind him, the class went into an uproar.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

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.