Mirian contemplated her first question for Xecatl. She had a feeling she knew what the other woman would ask her, and she wanted to get a good sense of what she already knew. She looked up and down Ceiba Yan. There were strange flows in the soul. Discolored threads she thought she recognized.
‘Absolute truths,’ hm? We’ll put that to the test.
“What did you find in the Vaults of the Labyrinth?” she asked.
Xecatl smiled. “The first Vault contained statues of nine Elder Gods—a strange number to be sure—and several Elder artifacts. One artifact can manipulate magnetic fields. One is a liquid that can break anything into component elements. One seems to be used to prepare bronze for orichalcum production. One can detect something in living things, though it is unclear what exactly it is detecting. We tested it on several plants, and it became alert to several structures in those plants, but the plants seemed healthy. When tested on several people, it seems to detect even small tumors. When tested on myrvites, it detected chimeric traits. If it has other functions, we haven’t deciphered them. Lastly, one contained a conduit crystal unlike anything we’ve seen before.
“The second Vault had two items of unknown function, an Elder artifact that can precisely adjust the temperature of an object, and a substance my scholars inform me you translate as ‘relicarium.’ It was that substance we used to bind a leviathan catalyst and special conduit crystal to Ceiba Yan. Both of those things have let him interact with magic on a new scale, allowing our beloved tree to siphon energy even from the Labyrinth. It is that siphon that has manifested itself in your data.” She paused, letting what she’d just revealed sink in. “That is an absolute truth. A full accounting, with the most important pieces included.”
Mirian’s mind spun. She already knows about relicarium. And has used it! But how? Did they infiltrate the Grand Sanctum and Pontiff Oculo’s personal quarters? Then, Do the Leviathans remember their missing kin?
“Why are you trusting me?” Mirian asked.
“It wasn’t my idea. It was his,” she said, letting her hand gently run down the bark of the trunk. “My turn. Can you remove a time traveler from the time loop?”
Mirian had sensed the question coming. It had been when she’d say she didn’t know how Sulvorath had left the loop that Xecatl had grown suspicious. Can she sense lies? Except, it wasn’t her aura examining me. It was the sacred tree’s. She hesitated, looking at Xecatl’s soul. Or how much of a difference is there? The flow patterns are so incredibly synchronized. She took a deep breath. Part of her screamed not to tell her. Part of her was relieved to be able to speak. Given what she knows of binding relicarium, it may very well be that she already knows, and this is a test.
At last, she said, “Yes. I worked on four-dimensional math in Torrviol Academy, and learned a great deal about that fourth, arcane dimension. Inside the Labyrinth, I discovered glyphs and runes that had been bound together three at a time—tri-bonded sigils. After a great deal of work on souls and the mathematics, and using tri-bonded sequences to translate arcane spells into something that could directly manipulate something inside a soul, I was able to create a spell that can carefully extract a temporal anchor. I used it against Troytin, who went by the alias Sulvorath, because he was relentlessly trying to hunt down and permanently incapacitate the other Prophets. I have kept it secret from the other Prophets because I don’t want them even realizing it’s a possibility, because I don’t trust any of them with such a weapon. Not even because they might use it on me, but because they might use it on each other.” She paused. “However, it’s possible one of them has already discovered such a means. Of the two temporal anchors that returned to the Ominian, I only was responsible for one.”
Xecatl nodded slowly. “Then that explains the small additions of time to the cycle, whereas the Elder Gates you mentioned extend it further. Strange. One wonders why removing a temporal anchor has any effect on the length of the cycle.”
“They’re bound to the Ominian. It must have something to do with Them. I did some calculations with Jei back in Torrviol, and a mundane impact of something the size of Divir shouldn’t cause the explosion it does, and the explosion shouldn’t propagate so fast.”
“Our scholars have given some thought to that. It could be explained by the Ominian consolidating.”
Mirian tilted her head. “I haven’t heard that term.”
“The Ominian exists in four spatial dimensions, and at least two dimensions of time. But what would happen if all of Them were brought into existence at a single point in time, in a single place?”
Mirian did some calculations in her head, using what she knew of arcane physics. “They don’t make an abacus with enough bars for a number that big.”
“Precisely.”
“But to prevent Them from… hmm… did you find any chthonic needles?”
“Is that your next question?”
“No, just idle musings. They’re found in the Labyrinth. They may be able to take the place of temporal anchors.” She ground her teeth. “But if not… then at some point our anchors would need to be returned to the Ominian. All of them.”
Xecatl turned her gaze from the sacred tree to Mirian. “Would you trust the other Prophets to give up their blessing when asked?”
Mirian considered the question, but then realized there was very little to consider. “Not at all.” Quieter, she said, “I wonder if that’s what happened with the other Prophets.”
“Then you have, at least, another solution.”
“Yes. A last resort. Because using it may rob us of the possibility of success entirely. Whatever the other Prophets were tasked with—it still led us here. So did they succeed, or fail? My next question, though. How did you discover the nine bindings needed to use relicarium?”
“I became aware of the subtle compulsion magic at work in the Mausoleum when I dreamed of it. Once I was aware of it, I broke its grasp. Then, my explorations quickly found the eight bindings on the walls of the foyer. When the notation was translated into our own system, the function began to emerge, and the only explanation was this was the ‘binding’ magic discovered by the Luminate Prophets. Our nagual researchers were able to reverse-engineer the last required binding by deducing the last required function. Layering complex bindings is not so different than creating spirit-constructs; function emerges from complexity. Once that was done, it became a simple matter to execute the new spells.”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
The potential of getting so many people to work together. The amount of labor she has access to dwarfs Torrviol or even Vadriach. And she can research soul magic openly, without needing to shake the country.
“My turn,” Xecatl said. “What did you bind with the relicarium you acquired, and what do you intend to bind next?”
It was a two-part question, but it seemed fair to Mirian. It got at the crux of the issue, and that was the point of these questions. She told her about the focus amulet, the Holy Pages, and Apophagorga. If Xecatl’s eyes went wide over the Pages, they nearly popped out of her head when she heard about the myrvite titan.
“You killed a titan!?”
“I did have help. But yes. As for what I intend to bind next…” Here, Mirian had been considering Gaius’s energy transmutation and her own research in conduit crystals. “It seems we must develop a way to regulate leyline energy. I’ve been working on designs for such a regulator. After research in incorporating jeweled lotus extracts and mythril into conduit crystals, it seems a soul-aligned conduit crystal might be best for dissipating large amounts of the leyline energy as it’s directed. Therefore, I’m developing a soul-aligned leyline regulation device. It would be insufficient for stopping moonfall, but it could deal with minor anomalies and surges. Used in conjunction with the Gates, it could delay the apocalypse for long enough for the full device I’m envisioning to be built.” She cleared her throat. “As a side-benefit, the regulator could double as armor.” Mirian flipped to the page in her soulbound spellbook with her design ideas. So far, the only people who had seen these pages were Jei and Torres.
“These are… complex,” Xecatl said. “I can’t meaningfully comment on your designs. I’m unfamiliar with the Baracueli weaver glyph notation. Can you make copies of these pages to pass onto my scholars?”
“Of course. I’ll be curious to see what they think. Right now, the theoretical potential energy such a design could regulate is around 400 myr. Far above my capacity to actually cast at, but the idea is that the regulator design would allow for me to temporarily channel energies above my limit. The full leyline regulator I want to build at Mayat Shadr could theoretically regulate 2000 myr. Woefully insufficient, which is why I continue to research and iterate.”
Xecatl nodded. “One more question each.”
There were other smarter questions she could ask, but Mirian had to know. “How is it you remember anything without a temporal anchor?”
The nagual smiled. “Are you familiar with soul-communion?”
“Yes. I’ve talked to a bog lion, and those Elder creatures I mentioned.”
“It’s a key skill in spirit-constructs. Generations of nagual have talked with Ceiba Yan. When the loop started, I was deep in communion with Ceiba Yan. Our souls were very nearly one. When the loop resets, the memories in his soul affect me.”
Mirian thought through the implications. “Then… your own soul doesn’t benefit from magic practice. Even if you gain the knowledge, you don’t gain the metaphysical power.”
“That’s correct. What’s the measurement you use? Myr? Mine’s quite low, and it will stay that way.”
“And—oh. That’s why you don’t want to leave Tlaxhuaco.”
Xecatl nodded. “If I die outside of the range of the sacred tree’s touch, those memories are lost. Only what I can return with matters.”
“But other nagual can contribute to the memory pool, communing with the Ceiba Yan.”
The woman nodded in acknowledgment. “There are benefits, and there are limitations. Interpreting memories through the perspective of a tree takes a great deal of practice. Transmitting and receiving them takes the same practice. Only a limited number of nagual are skilled enough to manage anything.”
“Then… your soul ascension…?”
“The first one was done before the loops started. The second is complete moments after the time loop begins.”
“Fascinating. And the nagual aren’t your only defense,” Mirian realized, looking at the grand tree. The sacred tree’s aura was a light touch now, but that could change at a moment’s notice.
“Correct.”
Mirian took a moment to process the information, trying to think through the implications. We can use this. Especially if we locate an Elder Gate, but surely… “One of the professors in Torrviol can commune with plants. He’s trying to resurrect the lost knowledge of the Baracueli druids. If he could teach Ceiba Yan Baracueli magic… a great deal of separate knowledge could be combined.” She smiled. “Viridian would love this place.”
“A possibility. I have a final question for you. Are you ready?”
She nodded.
“What does the world become when this is all done?”
It took some time before Mirian could answer. Not because she hadn’t given the question any thought; on the contrary, she’d given it far too much thought. Ever since Gabriel had started needling her about it, she’d realized that platitudes and simple answers were wholly insufficient.
It was, Mirian had come to realize, a question far more complex than any artifice diagram or four-dimensional math equation. Perhaps a problem more difficult to solve than even developing a device that could control a leyline. Such a device would only involve mastery of arcane physics.
People, though…
“Ibrahim, Gabriel, and Liuan are all convinced this only ends with a single hegemon. I don’t see it. When the Unification War started, everyone thought it would be a quick, easy war. What’s on the horizon—it’s worse. Conquest won’t work. But how to stop it? How to dismantle the organizations that need a war, that would benefit from the war, that…”
She trailed off. Her thoughts on it all still weren’t fully developed. “When I visited Rostal in Palendurio, I watched his community. It was full of people who looked out for each other. Lots of people with lots of friends. Elders that watched children. Laborers that worked hard for their families, but were willing to help out anyone who needed it. When the riots start in Palendurio, they organize a community defense. They have each other’s back.” Her eyes grew distant as she spoke. “The new world… I can see the shape I want it to be in. Places like that. A society where people like Grandpa Irabi are elevated. A society where schemers like General Corrmier are stripped of all authority. A society where monsters like Westerun are buried. Not quite like Arriroba, where my mother’s talent was always constrained by coin. Not quite like Torrviol, where only the select few are allowed to learn.
“I want a world where the bonds of community have grown, and the prejudices have evaporated like fog on a summer day. Everywhere I’ve traveled—it’s just been people. Petty and far-seeing. Cruel and kind. Never as different from each other as they’d like to think. People of all sorts, mixed together in a big mess. When I dream, I see a world where Viridian’s garden can grow, where the spellwards of the Ennecus pens are torn down, where the Akanan trains carrying piles of myrvite corpses stop running. A world without endless conquest. A world at peace, where life and happiness comes first. Even saying it, I can taste how idealistic and naive my words are. An impossible world. I see no path to it. But it’s the one I want.”
Mirian blinked and brought herself back to this moment. She realized that she could feel both Ceiba Yan and Xecatl’s aura around her, wisps of it circling her. Their auras were blended together, and the tendrils of it had merged with her own. How is that possible? she wondered, only to find that her recognition of the strange flow changed the pattern of her aura. It went back to repelling theirs. Whatever had happened, she’d done it subconsciously.
Xecatl turned to her nagual escort. “Confer,” she ordered.
The nagual talked in Tlaxa for only a few minutes before one stepped forward and bowed. “We affirm your decision.”
Emperor Xecatl faced Mirian and said formally, “Thus it will be so. Then, Prophet Mirian, know that you are welcome on Tlaxhuaco.”
“Thank you,” Mirian said, and took a deep breath of the air. “We have much to teach each other.”
“That we do. Let us begin.”