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Elysium 7.10

    “Do not ask why a betrayal happens. Ask why they believed they could live with the consequences.”


    — Dread Emperor Terribilis II


    <hr>


    A torrential downpour battered us in sheets of molten gold.


    Blinding.


    Relentless.


    Arcadia had shattered.


    We stood on an island of wreckage: broken palisades, shattered wagons, and dugouts abandoned by the tyrant''s fleeing soldiers. My eyes trailed along the ground until it reached the very edge of reality. An uncomfortably close rend located only a thousand feet away. The edges were jagged, torn as if Arcadia had been nothing more than a sketch on parchment, ripped out and thrown into a cosmic chasm. The perimeter of the island crumbled away, dissolving like sand. Every crack in the ground widened with the sound of splintering glass, sending shards spiralling into the abyss.


    Beyond the edge was pure nothingness, a place where even the Fae’s rules unravelled.


    Moving felt wrong, like wading through thick smoke. My head swam through a surreal soup as I turned toward Yvette. I grimaced. The world dragged behind me. Every motion trailed as if it was woven through coloured incense. I hesitated before stepping forward, the parting of Arcadia underfoot a stark reminder that every move might unravel reality itself.


    The choir of compassion drowned me in a sense of danger.


    One that overwhelmed every other emotion that I felt.


    Be extremely careful here, Taylor.


    “Like mother, like daughter,” Roland exhaled.


    “Yvie, what did you do? Explain. Now.” I demanded.


    Yvette stood there. A perfect sphere of stillness among the storm surrounded her. She blinked languidly at me, then smiled.


    “The light’s fading,” Yvette said as she shaded her eyes with one hand and gestured lazily at the sky with the other, “we’ve got to cross the bridge before it’s gone.”


    I followed her finger.


    An enormous hourglass floated horizontally in the sky above us. Both chambers swirled with grains of liquid sunshine. A familiar dagger pierced the stem. The blade emitted an eerie grey glow, one that steadily drained colour from the world around it. Sand bled from the break, a steady rain of light cascading down onto us.


    “Drop the theatrics, Yvie,” I crossed my arms and chided her.


    “Let me have my moment,” she huffed and folded her arms.


    Gods Above, save me from teenagers. If we survive this, I’m putting Yvette in time-out until she’s thirty.


    “Moments can wait,” I cajoled. “I’ll make it up to you later. Promise.”


    “Deal,” she said with a smile.


    “Where are we?” I asked. “How long do we have until everything breaks?”


    “Somewhere between life and death,” Roland whispered.


    “Half the light’s left before the ritual collapses,” Yvette said, her tone clipped. “I’ll explain while we walk. Best that we don’t let the present catch-up to us.”


    “Will the sun run out?” I asked, concerned.


    I hoped that we weren’t permanently damaging a vital part of Arcadia.


    “The sun can always rise again,” she shrugged.


    You’re doing a terrible job at reassuring any of us.


    Roland and I exchanged wary glances before trailing after Yvette. She skipped ahead past scorched and battered books with the reckless energy of someone oblivious to the void beneath her feet. The arch stretched out from the edge of our island across the void to another. I narrowed my eyes. It wasn’t stone or wood. It was bone.


    “Where are we?” I repeated as I stepped onto the bridge.


    The spine of Summer’s dragon reverberated rhythmically beneath our feet. It had been stripped bare and repurposed into a path. Skeletal wings flanked it on either side. Their joints had been locked into unnatural curves to form railings. Flames danced along their edges at even intervals. Torches that lit the way ahead to the icy island on the opposite side.


    “You wanted to go back,” Yvette said snarkily from the front of our group. “We’re back… or close enough.”


    Her answer told me nothing. I’d told her to build a metaphoric tower, something to manifest an illusion of the moment the Summer and Winter courts first came into existence. Metaphysics wasn’t my domain of expertise, but this didn’t look pretend at all.


    I narrowed my eyes. “Back… where?”


    “The beginning,” she said. “I replicated the moment it all began.”


    “So,” Roland interjected from behind, “you’re claiming this is where Summer and Winter began?”


    He sounded somewhere between spooked and awed.


    “Not exactly,” Yvette sounded chagrined. “There wasn’t enough of a link to lock onto the exact moment.”


    Find out what happened first.


    “That’s okay,” I enunciated each word with care. “What exactly did you do?”


    “A tower of hubris,” Roland muttered, “built upon illusions of grandeur.”


    “Well,” she skipped uncomfortably from one foot to the other, “I managed to… sort of reach the culmination of their first great clash. Maybe not perfectly. Summer and Winter, locked forever in their stupid dance. Look over there,” she pointed.


    I shaded my eyes and stared into the distance.


    A glacier towered like a frozen monolith on the horizon. A shard of primordial chaos frozen, adrift in the sea of the abyss. Two figures moved atop it, locked in an eternal battle beneath the radiant rain. The King of Winter and the Queen of Summer were trapped in their duties. Frost and fire collided in waves that rippled across the battlefield.


    “Could you shed light on the etherealness of reality?” Roland interjected.


    “I couldn’t actually send us back,” Yvette’s shoulders hunched defensively as she paused. “That would be too much even with the Arcadian sun to fuel the ritual. So I created a bridge, then sort of projected a shadow of us into events of the past. That projection can influence historical events to a limited extent, but only so far.”


    Oh, wonderful. A teenage wizard playing with the fabric of time. What could possibly go wrong?


    “Only so far,” I said woodenly.


    “Big changes to history? Boom! Arcadia explodes, and we die. Simple. No pressure at all,” her laughter wavered as she shrugged.


    I exchanged a glance with Roland. Waiting it out tempted me. Just standing here and allowing the timer to run dry seemed like the safer option. But the illusion of safety wouldn’t get them their souls back. I’d trusted Yvette this far. I’d said that I’d play every card that I had. Well, we’d played one card I didn’t believe existed at all. Now I might as well see it through. I hesitated, my hand clenching and unclenching as the seconds bled away. Then — with a shallow nod — I forced myself to move once more.


    “A reassuring state of affairs,” the Rogue Sorcerer muttered. “I should’ve stayed in Beaumarais.”


    I didn’t blame him, either.


    “I’ll make an exception to my no drinking rule when we’re done,” I agreed.


    Yvette sputtered, before shooting me a betrayed look. Although she didn’t appear to be truly offended. She was riding such a high from having succeeded that I doubted she could be upset.


    The spine twisted below us like a living thing. It’s skeletal structure groaning under unseen strain as the island behind us fractured further, splitting into two.


    “We need to hurry,” I urged. “Which story are we leaning into?”


    I didn’t know any Calernian time travel stories, and I wasn’t particularly keen on leaning into the Earth ones that I was aware of. Most didn’t end too well. I had no intention of killing my grandfather, even if he was here. Perhaps we could rely on a regular Creation story instead?


    “Calm yourself,” Yvette stretched out the words. “I’ve thought this through. We can use it; we just need to-”


    “Even shadows move to their own rhythm tonight,” Larat drawled. “A fine evening for scheming, is it not?”


    Yvette stopped mid-step.


    I froze.


    The Prince of Nightfall emerged from behind the entrance to a maze of ice as we stepped off the other end of the bridge. Two mismatched eyes fell upon me.


    “You shouldn’t be here,” Yvette accused.


    “Seven and one titans once sought to unmake Creation’s weave,” the creature mused.


    Spiders ran down my spine.


    “They found that audacity is a blade that cuts its wielder. Of those titans,” Larat said, “only the shadow of one lingered, bound by its scars.”


    The Prince of Nightfall paused and blew another ring from his pipe.


    “Fitting, is it not,” he cocked his head, “that the shadow is now the one to pay the price?”


    “We’re not changing the past,” I challenged, “Just the future.”


    “Yet here you trespass,” he spread his arms wide and gestured with the pipe, “clinging to the shattered bones of a history not yours.”


    “You shouldn’t be here,” Yvette repeated her accusation.


    “Shadows twist to their tale,” the Prince of Nightfall’s voice dipped, “even when the light demands for stillness. For even the brightest light casts a shadow. The darker the illumination, the longer the reach.”


    “You want something,” I concluded.


    “I want what I’ve always wanted,” he replied. “Now, a deal, if you will.”


    I inclined my head at Roland slightly.


    Roland crossed his arms and shifted on his feet. “The-”


    “Every wasted move in this game hastens the fall of the final grain in the hourglass of fate,” the fae interjected sharply.


    I squinted at him. Smooth. Unperturbed. Like he hadn’t just been betrayed by the Tyrant and stripped of his path to freedom. He might have another way out, but I doubted it. His best bet remained in ingratiating himself with me.


    “Speak,” I said.


    The egg of time’s golden yolk continued to rain down upon us.


    My breath caught when I noticed that a tenth of the sand had fallen already.


    “I will uphold your original offer,” the Prince of Nightfall said, “and I will help you see your ends through.”


    It remained unsaid that he wanted me to fulfil my side of the bargain.


    “Nothing binds us,” I asserted. “You know that.”


    “I know you will act, Priestess,” he puffed out a cloud of poppy. “Your nature demands it of you.”If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    “So you will see our purpose fulfilled,” Roland challenged.


    “The wrong step here will see your designs unravel,” Larat explained.


    “A single mistake here might see us all fall,” Roland agreed.


    I stiffened as I felt the air lighten subtly.


    “The path forward is littered with shattered mirrors,” Larat’s voice whispered through the murk, “each shard a story left untold.”


    I glanced around.


    The already flimsy vision of the past had frayed a little further.


    “That’s one way to put it,” I muttered.


    “Perhaps a prophecy will light the darkened path,” the prince of Nightfall proposed.


    His eyes darted towards the monarchs fighting in the distance. I furrowed my brow. A prophecy. One could provide us with the edge we needed if it was worded correctly. That wouldn’t change the past too much while giving us a lever on the future.


    “Not much to go on,” I countered,” and we need to hurry.”


    “I was going to suggest a prophecy earlier,” Yvette groused.


    “Then know that the Tyrant is also here,” Larat warned.


    “Can I kill him?” I sighed as I asked Yvette.


    “I don’t know if that’s true, but if it is, and you kill him, the ritual breaks. Why is he here?” she complained. “I tied it to everyone in a small region of space. Nobody but us should be here unless…” her voice dropped into ominous tones. “Somebody folded Arcadia at the last moment.”


    The King of Winter. Of course, it had to be him. He’d been grinning at the end, like he’d already won. He would have some plan ready to twist this mess to his own benefit.


    “The Tyrant betrayed every other agreement,” Roland dramatized, “why would this be any different?”


    “Even the most fragile puppet may yet sever its strings,” Larat agreed. “However, the spawn of chaos craves an audience for his jests. There is no certainty that your failure would not seed victory of another kind.”


    What else could I bargain for? I still didn’t know the Queen of Summer’s duties. I’d planned to ask for her role and not Winter’s, then piece the rest together from context. That plan had gone nowhere. Larat might lie if I asked, but even his lies might leave breadcrumbs. Better something than the nothing I had now.


    “List the King of Winter’s duties and uphold our agreement. I’ll consider it,” I said.


    “Do you truly not know?” he sounded genuinely surprised. “Any among us could have answered. We have all seen our story play out in full.”


    Is he suggesting… Fuck, why didn’t I just ask some random fae instead of complicating everything.


    “Answer the question,” I sighed.


    “To destroy Summer, to Protect Skade, and to see the Sun defeated,” his lips twitched as he replied.


    I couldn’t tell if he was lying, but it provided me with a starting point. I could reasonably assume that Summer’s goals might be the inverse. The destruction of Winter, Aine’s protection, the Sun’s triumph. It would explain the attack on Aine. Not much to go off but… better than nothing. I’d all him to tag along if he’d free the souls as a gesture of goodwill.


    “Fine,” I conceded, “I’ll uphold the original offer. A prophecy it is then.”


    We walked in silence along a jagged path to the end of the second island. Another arched spine thick with frost stretched from its far edge. Ice clung to its surface in jagged streaks, glinting cold and sharp under the golden downpour. The wings swayed as we crossed the dead beast.


    Another island lay on the opposing side.


    One that reminded me of a sleepy town in Procer more than anywhere else.


    All of us tensed as a thunder crack detonated from somewhere up ahead. The Tyrant of Helike stepped out from behind a flowing fountain, twirling his ivory sceptre as he approached. He strolled towards us as if the imminent collapse of reality wasn’t a significant concern, laid a malevolent red eye on me and grinned.


    “Friends!” the Tyrant said. “What a delightful lie to tell ourselves this evening.”


    “Wow!” Yvette exclaimed sarcastically. “He’s mastered the art of false sincerity.”


    “Gratitude is such a fleeting pleasure, isn’t it?” the Tyrant grinned at her. “Still, I’ll commission a picture of this moment when we’re done.”


    “I doubt he even has to try to be an asshole,” I muttered.


    “Charm is but one weapon among many,” the Tyrant twisted my words with a nod, “and I do so enjoy wielding it.”


    All of us stumbled as the ground lurched. The broken vision warped. My heart thundered as events from the future overlapped in an incomprehensible kaleidoscope of colours.


    “Half our time has already dwindled. The sword of fate hangs by a thread,” Roland urged, “let’s not waste it.”


    “No kidding,” I said shakily.


    “Time aplenty for five heroes riding forth,” the youth replied while falling into step beside us.


    “Five prisoners, bound by fate,” Roland countered. “None of us are free in this tale.”


    “Fate and I are old lovers,” the Tyrant declared.


    “See the hourglass?” I said with a gesture. “That’s your lifespan.”


    “She understands that she’ll get out of my way,” the Tyrant ignored me as he postured, “or I’ll break her beneath my boot.”


    Despite his posturing, his pace picked up.


    A malevolent red eye fell upon the Prince of Nightfall.


    “It appears one person’s missing from our merry band,” Kairos said. “Tell me, where’s your friend with the bow?”


    “Her spirit lingers among us,” the prince winked with Ranger’s eye.


    “Ah, sacrifices,” the Tyrant sighed whistfully.


    “Every story demands its share of casualties,” Larat concurred. “I wonder who else might wear the mask of the martyr today?”


    “Sacrifices are always sweeter when someone else is on the altar,” the Tyrant said.


    “Tell me,” the Prince of Nightfall mused, “what cost will the story demand from you before for its inevitable end?”


    “See anything new with that eye?” Kairos evaded.


    “I see enough,” Larat replied. “The next step of the path is yours to shape,” Larat gestured to me and the glacier in the distance.


    I weighed it for several heartbeats, then acceded to the request. We didn’t have enough time for me to reflect. The others waited for me to finish. A lattice of interlocking barriers soon shimmered under the falling rain.


    The dream trembled again.


    We all broke into a sprint.


    “No draconic transformation this time?” Kairos shouted, “A pity. Really. I’ve never walked over the spine of a slave so well shaped for the role.”


    “The hells built a special throne just for you,” I countered.


    “Curious, isn’t it?” he replied. “What lies beyond death’s veil for you? Oh, that’s right,” he grinned, “you’ll never find out.”


    “Can I silence him?” Yvette panted. “He needs to stay alive, that doesn’t mean he needs to keep talking.”


    Could we risk it? Allowing manipulators to talk always ended poorly. He could twist events in his favour with only a few words. If we silenced him outright, though… He’d retaliate. I took a deep breath. I still didn’t know the limitations on Wish, and the Tyrant would no doubt blow all of us up if he didn’t have the opportunity to perform.


    “If you’re so eager to silence me,” Kairos mocked, “a kiss will do. Consider it my charitable act of the day.”


    He smiled as my eyes bored holes into him.


    “Nothing would please me more than to sever his tongue,” the Prince of Nightfall threatened. “Alas, it would likely slither off and sow chaos on its own.”


    The Prince of Nightfall was the unknown element. He wouldn’t back the Tyrant, but that didn’t mean he’d side with me either. How much should I trust him? How much could I? Temporary freedom allowed him to chase his own interests. Those interests lined up with mine at present. He knew I strove to make his freedom permanent. Fine. If I thought the alliance held no worth now, there was no point in involving him at all.


    “I can always burn it then,” Yvette wheezed.


    “Dearest princess, I knew your heart would falter someday,” Kairos gasped, “who could ever resist?”


    I thought about silencing him for longer than I’d like before replying.


    “No, Yvie,” I said reluctantly.


    Her pout mirrored my frown.


    “See,” Kairos cheered, “even-”


    God’s Above, I’m not listening to another word from this monster.


    “Want me to try fixing your leg?” I interjected sweetly.


    I didn’t know if I could pull it off, but I had a better chance than anyone else. He was a villain, after all. A redemption story begged for it. If he accepted, it meant the odds were already leaning my way.


    Kairos’s mouth snapped shut.


    A small measure of guilt blossomed as dark satisfaction surged.


    The rest of the trip across my bridge was silent save for the sound of breathing and footfalls. Not calm, though. My thoughts gnawed at the edges as our two temporary companions flanked us on either side. We crested the thawing glacier.


    “There is no victory without sacrifice,” Larat said solemnly, “no end without a beginning.”


    Nobody replied.


    The top of the ice mountain plateaued, only to slope into a narrow path on the far side. A magnificent galleon waited there, docked in a frigid sea. Its sails snapped in the wind and rain. The King and Queen clashed atop the plateau. Frost bit and flames licked through the air in bursts, marring the otherwise tranquil environment.


    A brief moment was spared to discuss how we’d approach the fae monarchs.


    Kairos did little more than throw barbs in at the side.


    Wants to destroy Winter.


    Wants to consume Summer.


    At least I didn’t need to worry about deterring them from their goals.


    “Go ahead, Taylor,” Kairos said as he waved disdainfully towards the fight. “Breaking things is your true art, isn’t it?”


    I clamped my jaw shut before the words slipped out. A sharp retort would only bait him into proving he could interrupt the fight, and I didn’t care to see how that ended. No, better to leave that fate untempted. I was the most durable of this temporary ‘alliance’. If someone had to draw the ire of the fae monarchs, it should be me.


    “You two!” Light flared as I bellowed, “Stop! Listen!”


    My words slid past them like Songbird and responsibility. No surprises there. Fury drowned out their capacity to reason. It didn’t mean I shouldn’t try.


    The King of Winter’s movements were hard to follow. He danced with the elegance of entropy, his face sporting a grin sharp enough to draw blood. Waves of ice lashed out from his hands, jagged and merciless, only to shatter against the edge of the Queen’s yew spear. She met his attack with a feral smile, her teeth were bared as if she dared him to do worse. Two monsters, trapped in the earliest rendition of their eternal dance.


    Neither participant was willing to yield.


    I called twice more in the vain hope that I’d not need to attempt a riskier plan.


    No success.


    One glance at the sky told me we had only a fraction of our time left.


    This is a really stupid idea.


    I riled myself up while waiting for the right moment.


    One step.


    Then another.


    I swallowed hard as I stepped into the space between them. Knowing intellectually that they theoretically were unable to harm me did nothing for my nerves. The Queen of Summer’s spear streaked toward me, faster than thought.


    My hand shot up on instinct.


    The weapon cracked in my grip. The sky trembled. The void closed in. The gilded deluge died down to a trickle as the prismatic mirror we walked within fragmented even further.


    … What?


    The world seemed to hold its breath as everyone stilled.


    Another puzzle piece fell into place.


    This was so far back in time that the Fae monarchs were barely more than archetypes. No layers of story yet to bolster what they could do. Just raw power. Still terrifying, but stripped of any additional context. It explained why I’d been able to damage the spear. It also explained something else.


    My mouth went dry as I squinted at the hourglass in the sky. Time bled away like water from a leaky gourd. Every glinting grain seemed to echo as it fell into the void, an unrelenting reminder of our narrowing chances. Less than a tenth of our time remained. No room for clever plans. No time for caution. I moved without thinking. Lines of white sealed over the breaks as I returned the spear to the Queen.


    “Wait!” I declared.


    Both combatants examined me like animals examining a new predator intruding onto their territory.


    “Step aside, strangers,” the Queen of Summer said, “I have no quarrel with you, whoever you may be.”


    “My Prince of Nightfall,” the King of Winter mused. “You perished during the last clash. What trickery sees you standing before me?”


    My heart thundered in my chest as Roland spoke, “Five heralds stand mired in the past, bearing a prophecy of that which is yet to come.”


    “The march of eternity holds for nobody,” I continued, “Many seasons will pass and yet the tale of Summer and Winter will forever be the same. But time is the river that quenches all flames, and the rage that now consumes you will one day die away.”


    “In a future far off,” Yvette continued, “in an age yet to come, another cycle of war will rage once again.”


    “What was once said in the distant past will have almost faded from memory,” Roland declared.


    “Only this time,” I recited, “events will pass differently. A Princess from a far off court will wander among the lands of Summer and Winter both. Born from a Court from Beyond the Stars, she will be a prisoner to the hounds of Winter and an ambassador to Summer’s finest warriors.”


    “Her arrival will warn of the end of an age,” Yvette foretold. “For a time will come when the Princess sets down the crown of her past. A time will come when Summer and Winter unite in purpose. A single court that stands guard for that which is within against that which is without.”


    I stiffened as Larat spoke.


    The Prince of Nightfall leaned forward slightly, his mismatched eyes glinting as his lips curled into a knowing smile. He opened his mouth and spoke: “Seven bindings shall tie seven makers to their fates before the seasons will end.”


    Seven agreements? That meant Kairos had made four. One with the King of Winter, one with Larat, but who were the other two? Perhaps one with either Sulia or the Queen of Summer and one with the Ranger? Either way, it wasn’t a problem.


    I bit back an oath as the Tyrant opened his mouth.


    Weeping heavens, I swear if you mess this up for all of us, I will haunt you in the afterlife.


    “Seven agreements will be upheld,” Kairos grinned as he spoke.


    Of course. Now I somehow need to uphold all my existing agreements in order to end this nonsense.


    “And as the final turning of the season ends, an eighth agreement will be debated over the corpse of the last,” Larat declared, sounding unperturbed. “One that will shape the future to come.”


    Why isn’t he worried?


    The Tyrant opened his mouth again. I tried to jam it shut with Light, only for the fraying reality to rend my miracle apart.


    “And as the final deal is struck, a new court will be born,” Kairos finished with a bow and a grin. “One that will drown the future in chaos and blood.”


    My fury spiked.


    I tried to speak.


    Tried to voice my protest.


    Darkness swirled around us.


    The void swallowed the edges of our reality like ink blotting out parchment.


    The vision shattered as half the sand in the hourglass ran out.
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