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—isn’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.

This narrative has been purloined without the author’s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

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.