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—and not just any professors, the ones helping lead the Gods’ damned Divine Monument project—had 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—Medius refused to mentally give him the title ‘archmage’ because he was sure he’d fucked with the test results—eating 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—something that was also moving fast. He paged through his backup spellbook—the damn thing was an embarrassment—and 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—

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 and 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.

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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—help me now see—

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—a hole.

A Prophet.