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 Grandpa 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—Jeron 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, 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—and she knew at least a thing or two about them—her 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.

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