Chapter 187 – Divine Mysteries

By the end of the cycle, Mirian’s preliminary measurements on leyline activity in Akana Praediar were complete. Lecne and his faithful had also completed their reconnaissance.

“Prophet,” Lecne said, kneeling. “There is someone spreading messages about a different Prophet in Arborholm. One group that was part of the Church of the Ominian attempted to force their way into the military base near the city. They failed, and provoked a mass arrest of heretics. However, three days later, artificers from the Rosen Corporation went into the secure hangers of those dreadnoughts. Based on our information provided by agents of the criminal underworld, we suspect they did something under the guise of repairing them, though it is unclear what. Maruce and Pelnu also think there were irregularities during the assassination attempt on the Prime Minister. We have prepared a more detailed report that includes the times and days of notable events.”

Lecne’s tone had become much more formal. It didn’t feel like him at all. She didn’t like it. She thought of Shiamagoth. The longer I stay in the time loop, the more I become something incomprehensible to a normal person.

“Very good,” was what she said. It was good to have her suspicions confirmed.

She sat down with the report the Cult of Zomalator had prepared and began to study it. Lecne stood by and answered any questions she had about it.

On the 7th of Duala, a broadsheet from Vadriach discussed rumors that the army sent from Arborholm to attack Baracuel was supposed to have included two secret airships. Mirian looked at the paper, eyes widening. The airships didn’t launch?

She could no longer delay. There was a twisted knot in her gut, but that anxiety that this other time traveler was her enemy—she couldn’t listen to it. She had to know. She had to discard her fear. The truth is more important.

***

Arborholm had once had a great forest that surrounded it. Now, it was surrounded by pastures that contained a domesticated variety of the bison and sprawling farmland full of monoculture crops. It was nothing like the traditional farms up by Torrviol. It was strange to see no spellward barriers surrounding the city—but then again, what would they be protecting it from?

Arborholm itself wasn’t older than Mercanton, but more of the old structures still stood so it looked like it. Many of the buildings were made out of the colossal trees that the city had been named after instead of the brick, plaster, or stone construction Mirian was used to seeing. There seemed to be a trend in the city where the walls of buildings were painted white and the roofs blue. At least, Mirian thought, this place is more subdued. She was tired of dodging spellcarts and huge crowds. Arborholm was more spread out, and there were nice parks around where spots of green broke up the neighborhoods.

Mirian had come alone this loop. If it came to a fight, she didn’t want to have to worry about anyone else. She had bound her soulbound spellbook to an arcanist’s chain so it hung by her belt and kept her mythril amulet around her neck. Eclipse was in a sheath on her hip. Regardless of the outcome, she didn’t want to alert the other time traveler to soulbound objects.

It was the 4th of Solem already, so she was sure that if the other traveler was in Arborholm, she had already started her preparations. She went to one of the churches that Lecne’s group had identified and knocked on the door. Detect life showed there was a man inside, but he wasn’t making his way to the door. Mirian telekinetically opened the lock and walked inside.

A priest was sitting at a desk, likely scribing a sermon. He started as the door opened. “Who are you?” he demanded. “You’re trespassing.”

“A Prophet cannot trespass,” she said simply.

“You aren’t…” he started to say, then trailed off. Even before she’d drawn the Blade of the Fourth Prophet, he could see something in her.

“Embrace your celestial focus,” she said.

He started trembling, and then he fell to his knees. “Prophet. I—I apologize. You have… but she… I don’t understand.”

“There’s another Prophet.” She, the priest had said. “I wish to meet her.”

“But how can there be two?”

“Has the Ominian ever proclaimed such a thing was impossible?”

The priest started bobbing his head like a chicken. “Of course, of course you’re right, holy one. Only… she didn’t say where she was going.”

She kept her tone formal. “I am Mirian. What is her name?”

“She is the holy Liuan Var,” the priest said.

Hmm. That’s a Zhighuan first name, but an Akanan last name. “Spread the word that another of the Ominian’s chosen wishes to meet the holy Liuan Var. Whatever congregations and faithful know of her, they should know of me as well. Tell her I will meet her in Great Tree Park in the oak grove at noon tomorrow.”

“Yes, holy one,” the priest said.

Mirian left and went to the next church on her list.

***

Mirian sat by the tallest oak tree in the park and waited. Outwardly, she was calm, but her insides were twisting. She’d set up several wards around the park the night before, but she’d deliberately limited them to only a few specific functions so she didn’t scare the other time traveler off.

She’d been in the form of the Dusk Waves for hours at this point, ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice. Yes, she had an incredible amount of spell resistance coming from all three of her soulbound items, but she’d already thought of five different ways to kill someone in her own position without spells. Two of them involved artillery. But she doesn’t know about your strengths and weaknesses. Probably, she thought.

Mirian was also using her focus in combination with a celestial spell to expand her soul sight. She needed to see the souls in detail. Plenty of people were looking at her as they passed by, but she was only looking for one thing: anyone with a void in their soul.

Another hour passed. At last, a priest walked up to her. He was sweating like he expected to explode at any moment. Mirian continued to lounge as he approached.

“Holy one, holy Liuan Var has agreed to meet with you, but you must leave your sword and spellbook by this tree.”

Mirian looked around. There were other priests around the park watching her, but she couldn’t see the other time traveler. The other time traveler was assuming she’d set up a trap of some sort, but the fact that shells weren’t falling and she didn’t see an Akanan military brigade was already a good sign. “Very well,” she said, standing. What she didn’t want was Liuan Var examining her spellbook. That wouldn’t be easy to do with all her protections on the binding—it would burn another person’s soul if they even tried to touch it, never mind the rest of the wards—but Mirian had the remove temporal anchor spell in there. But, if Liuan Var or her agents were watching, she also didn’t want to just dismiss the spellbook.

She unclasped the chain from the book and cast force drill into the nearby ground, digging deeper with shape earth and then shape stone. She decreased the stability of the hole, then tossed the blade and the book inside the hole. As soon as they hit the bottom, she slammed the ground with a Phoenix form-enhanced stomp so that the items were buried.

Just to be careful, she de-manifested them so they rejoined her soul—but any observers wouldn’t see that part.

“Take me to her,” she said.

The priest bowed. He was still sweating despite the cool day.

Mirian kept her placid facade, but on the inside, she was still twisting. It’s a trap, a voice told her. She’ll be just like Troytin. She’ll curse you and—

No. Stay calm. This is your chance. You need this. Enteria needs this.

The priest led her to a large stone building. It was a public hall of some sort. With her focus, she could see there were no runes. Without her spellbook, though, she couldn’t see if there were glyphs present. Not knowing bothered her.

A thought struck her. Wait, I use the celestial focus to manifest itself. Is there any reason I can’t use the catalyst when it’s part of my soul? As she walked, she visualized it, the titan catalyst within its binding. Her control over her own soul was superb at this point. She embraced it—

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And could sense her mana.

It gave her comfort.

It also gave her another idea: was it possible to run mana through the glyphs of the spellbook even though it was in its soul-form? Now is not the time to test that, she chided herself.

She stopped by the threshold of the door. Her arcane sense was tingling, which meant there was casting, but she needed to at least try to trust this other. Probably divination spells looking for wands or weapons. It’s what I would do in her situation.

Mirian took a breath to steady her nerves and walked in.

This was some sort of city government building. Past the entrance hall, there were several guards holding rifles and a large open room for meetings. The room held a dozen or so people. Two were priests and the rest an assortment of people Mirian didn’t recognize. It seemed the other time traveler could quickly make allies of sorts.