They’d set up the device on the tallest tower of Vadriach University. Late evening light near sunset was best for looking at the Divir moon. That way, the sky wasn’t too bright to see it, but the light was still reflecting off it. As the spell engine telescope swung into position, Jherica stared at it, immediately becoming lost in thought.

“I remember now. When I saw it, I started talking to Liuan. She was so much better at talking to the church. She was so sweet and bubbly. What a kind soul,” they said.

Mirian did her best not to react to that last part. Did we meet the same person? she wondered. But then all thought of that was wiped away as she gazed through the layers of lenses.

The sunlight was glinting off Divir, but the moon looked nothing up close like she’d imagined. The base of the moon was all jagged dark rock. It was a kind of rock she’d seen before—when exploring the caves beneath the Persaman desert in her search for Atrah Xidi.

Most damningly though was the edge of the moon. They were mostly crumbled and smashed, but the architecture was unmistakable. There were buildings up there.

The obviousness of it hit her like a force blast. “Gods above,” she whispered. “It’s a chunk of Enteria. The center of Mayat Shadr—it wasn’t destroyed. It was lifted up.”

Her father seemed equally shocked. “The Triarch’s necromantic ritual,” he said in old Adamic. “They… but I don’t understand the physics of it.”

“That was it. That was what I found,” said Jherica, beaming. “I remember now. And I told… or did I tell them?” Their face scrunched up in concentration. “I must have told them… or did I only tell the one?” Then they snapped their fingers. “Liuan found the name that made me look. In one of the old cults. The secret name of God.”

“The Ominian?”

“Ominian is a title. Their name is DIVITRIUS.”

As Jherica said it, there was a weight to the word, like a pressure wave had come and gone. Mirian shivered. For the briefest moment, she’d felt like she was being watched. The feeling was similar to when Eyeball or Conductor was talking in her mind.

But when she looked around, no one was out of place. They were atop the University tower, alone.

“Did you feel that?” she asked Gaius.

He nodded. “I’m casting divination spells right now. I’ll let you know if I find anything.” Another advantage of having his robes being lined with glyphs and runes.

Jherica was looking around too. Then they snapped their fingers again. “And then! I remember. It was the logical course of action. If one moon is strange, why not the other? So I pointed it… at Luamin.” The academic began hitting switches to reposition the device. Slowly, the machine angled itself to look at Luamin.

The larger moon was waxing gibbous, not quite full, but well on its way. The lenses rippled with light.

Mirian stared at the surface of the Luamin moon. At first, she couldn’t tell what she was looking at. There were geometric patterns all along the surface. “Devices. Conduit paths. They must be of the Elder Gods,” she said. The only structure of comparable size was the Labyrinth.

“Precisely my conclusion,” Jherica said, beaming.

“Did they build the moon?” asked Mirian, still gaping.

“The church tells us the Elder Gods created Enteria, Labyrinth and all,” Jherica said.

“But the Labyrinth is just a… a thing, inside the world. Luamin’s entire surface looks artificial.” After a moment, as she continued to gape, head still spinning, she said, “I see your point. There’s a difference, though, between knowing and seeing.”

“Perhaps the old tales are more literal than we once thought,” Gaius murmured. “I want to talk with Liuan and her priests.”

“What do we do with this knowledge?” Mirian asked.

“Logically, we should explore both of them,” Jherica said. When Mirian raised an eyebrow at them, they added, “Ah… I am not quite

sure how to get there. You mentioned a Gate system…?”

“Yes, one that requires being physically present to be allowed access.”

“Did they say ‘physically?’” Jherica asked.

“No. Why does that matter?”

“It probably doesn’t,” Jherica said. “But precise language is important sometimes. I would very much like to meet these Elder creatures.”

“Eyeball is nice. Conductor is a bit of a stick in the mud.” Mirian continued to stare at the Luamin moon. “I suppose we can discuss it at the next Council of Prophets,” she said. They would be meeting in Florin City again.

When they were done with the telescope and word of the discovery was slowly spreading among the University, Gaius pulled Mirian aside. “You know what this means, right?”

She nodded. “Now we know why no one could find it,” she said. But how do we get to it? “Did you figure out what sort of divination we got hit with?”

Gaius looked grim. “No,” he said.

That was a terrifying thought.

***

Mirian and Gaius took turns instructing Jherica on soul magic. They would be the weakest of the time travelers, so it seemed best to give them some means of self-defense against the one thing they couldn’t simply die and recover from. In the meantime, she continued working with her father. The University had several isolated labs and parks. Even with the detection wards, Mirian used detect life to make sure Liuan didn’t have agents watching them, and both of them checked for divination.

Only when they were sure no one was observing would they work on the more sensitive material. Mirian was now working on animating small insects with their own soul energy after killing them. Of all the soul magic she’d learned, that one was unarguably necromancy, and she didn’t want the priests getting their robes in a tangle.

Gaius’s lessons on energy transfer had given her some new ideas. She was beginning to sketch out new theoretical designs for leyline conduits. She also wanted some sort of robe like his. She’d begun considering how to incorporate conduits into a mythril breastplate. The lessons on energy transfer were giving her plenty of ideas. When they weren’t practicing, she used the extensive labs of Vadriach University to assemble different prototypes of runes and glyphs.

In addition to that, there was still the research on new conduit crystals and the research on jeweled lotuses, including specimens of the rare ebonbloom. Enough things to study that she could spend a lifetime on them.

And maybe I will have to, she mused. Jei’s knowledge of crystal magic was becoming insufficient to the task. If Gabriel could make it to Zhighua and find a gate, the scholars there might be able to make a key breakthrough. And, from what her father had told her, there were even more secrets hiding deep in its jungles.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

That, and myrvites that made sea serpents look docile by comparison.

Then, there was a letter that she’d received from Liuan near the start of the cycle. With her focus on saving Jherica, she hadn’t looked closely at it, but Liuan had assembled and memorized data from leyline detectors placed in the south tip of the Takoa lands. Only when Mirian had gone back to look at it, the leyline energies to the south were too low. It wasn’t statistical variation. Either Liuan had gotten the numbers wrong, or something was actually changing. Possibly, it was her use of the Elder Gates, but it now seemed worthwhile to examine Tlaxhuaco.

That wouldn’t be easy. In her report, Liuan had also mentioned that several leviathans were spotted in the straits at different times during the cycle, and several vessels had gone missing. She hoped there might be more Gates to uncover. At the very least, though, it seemed almost certain there was a Gate beneath Alkazaria. She just needed to take the time to unearth it.

One evening, when she was telling her father more of what she’d been doing, she mentioned where Westerun was staying. The next morning, she noticed several bloodstains on his clothes that he’d apparently missed cleaning up.

“Did he tell you anything useful?” Mirian asked.

“Hmm? Ah, missed a spot. Some. Not really.”

“Are they close to mind control?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think they’ve just discovered new ways to destroy it. The memory curse seems to take several years to build up, and only through pin-pointing strong connections can a binding be put on that suppresses it. It has to be done repeatedly, dozens upon dozens of times, surrounding the target memories from every aspect. It also requires the target to willingly conjure the memory. Easier to do with a child than an adult, especially one who understands what is being done.”

She saw his face twitch involuntarily.

“I’d… rather not know what you did to him.” Mirian paused. “But I know he deserved it.”

“That and so much more. Any cycle you need information from him… it would be my pleasure.”

That sent a shiver down Mirian’s spine. “I’ll make sure he faces justice in the final cycle, whenever that may be.”

“Good,” her father said.

They went back to their lessons. Gaius was teaching her more about how the mummy soldiers worked. She didn’t think she’d be able to produce them in time for them to be useful, but going through the structure was already giving her some ideas about artifice she would be using.

Ibrahim, meanwhile, had been silent for most of the loop. Newspapers had reported his seizure of Rambalda and the decimation of the Baracueli force sent south from the forts to retake it, but none of his usual advances.

At last, near the end of the cycle, Ibrahim sent word of his decision. His letter was nothing if not concise:

Mirian,

I will attend your council in the next cycle

If results are not to my satisfaction, I will continue my work

-Ibrahim

It was a chance. She’d hold onto that. Gabriel wouldn’t be happy, but hopefully the two Persaman’s differences in politics could be worked through. After all, the literal fate of the world was at stake.

There was still so much to be done. But there is a path, she thought. All she could hope was they were on the right one.

***

Her dreams returned her to the Mausoleum. Eventually, they always did. She gazed up at the Ominian, and she felt a chill pass through her.

There was a second needle embedded in Their flesh.

But who…? I received word from all the other Prophets. It gave her a feeling of dread. She’d missed something. She was still missing something. Where is this dream, relative to the fields of time? Does it stand in this moment? So many of the other dreams were clearly of the past. It must be after the fall of Persama, or else we wouldn’t be…

A thought occurred to her. This place never had sound. The stars were so bright and brilliant. She couldn’t feel her heartbeat, but in the thrill she suddenly felt, she could imagine it.

Mirian turned and walked towards the giant doors. She arrived in the vestibule where she’d found the ninth binding scrawled on the wall. I assumed it was done by the Second Prophet before this place left Enteria. But what if it wasn’t? What if this place is malleable?

She felt stronger here than she had before. Before, she’d been a ghost walking about the halls. Now, when she stepped, she still left no footprints, but she felt like if she’d willed it, the dust would stir. Mirian stared up at the colossal doors. This was the Mausoleum, and now she knew where it was, if not when.

Elder architecture. Like the Labyrinth. When the Elder creatures speak to me, they don’t use human language, but a language that mirrors reality. As the glyphs. As the runes. She thought of the drake matriarch. It hadn’t responded to pleas, but commands.

And that’s what magic was, wasn’t it? A command, issued to the world, enforced by the arcane force.

The temporal anchors were a part of the Ominian. When they left a Prophet, they returned to Them—that much was clear. But the Ominian didn’t exist merely in one path in time. If the fields of time were open to creatures like Eyeball and Conductor, surely the pastures were even more open to the Elder Gods. Their very existence was not comprehensible.

And yet…

The temporal anchor was a part of her, too. Somehow, it brought their souls in contact. In a real sense, her dreams were Their dreams. It was her soul, wandering, but never too far from where it was bound. Of course, the dreams weren’t linear with the time passing on Enteria. But Jherica had dreamed as they lay trapped in their coma, so some relationship between the dreams and time was preserved. The ways she had aligned her soul was preserved, here in this moment. That meant her focus, her blade, and her spellbook must be part of her here too.

She tried to summon them, but her lack of a physical body seemed to impair her.

But the focus is there. And I have my soul to draw on.

Mirian put her hand on the door. Open, she told it.

The doors remained immobile.

No, that wouldn’t do. There was a trick, she knew. Soul energy could be broken down into mana. And mana was what she needed here. She felt her focus within her; felt her spellbook. She couldn’t manifest them, but she could use them. The process came to her like a breath.

OPEN, she commanded.

The Mausoleum trembled, though it stayed silent. Light cracked through the doors as they split outward.

Mirian’s soul raced. Before her lay the missing part of Mayat Shadr, buildings crumbling, just like she’d seen from below. She drifted forward, now understanding that she had only walked before because it was a habit. The grounds outside the Mausoleum were littered with skeletons and dessicated bodies. They were still wearing the clothes they had in life. High necromancer-priests wore elaborate robes, now sun-bleached. Hundreds of other priests and arcanists were scattered across, with more dead around them. On a dais, she saw three bodies, armor time-worn but still glittering silver. One of them still clutched an ornate scepter.

All around the ruins of Mayat Shadr, the dead bodies were piled high. She found herself shivering, despite her lack of a body. A terrible thing had happened here. A sin committed by humanity against humanity.

Here was a monument to the Triarchy’s downfall, preserved high above the world for all to see, but none to remember. She walked past it, because the glow beyond the edge of the moon called to her. At the precipice, where the rock fell off into empty space, she stood.

And there it was below her: Enteria, like she’d never seen it before. A beautiful gem of green and blue, white clouds spiraling through the atmosphere.

Below her was Persama, full of golden sands. She could see the great Setarab, deep blue waters flanked by green fields. North, she could see the snow-capped mountains and the distant Endelice, its fields of ice glistening in glorious turquoise. Between them, Baracuel was full of mottled colors; emerald forests and brown hills. In the distance was Akana Praediar, and south of it, Tlaxhuaco, emerald forests brilliant. The great oceans sparkled.

Far in the distance, at the edge of what she could see on the world’s curve, were other lands. So there is land beyond the known world, she thought. She felt her soul stirring. Beautiful Enteria, she thought, and knew that the Ominian was watching through her.

THIS PLACE… she could hear Them saying.

I am on the path, she knew.

She turned and looked back at the Mausoleum of the Ominian. Her eye caught movement atop its colossal construction. For a moment—less than a heartbeat—she had seen a hooded figure. Another Prophet dreaming? Or something else I haven’t yet understood?

Beyond where they’d stood, there was another object, incorporated into the Elder architecture of the Mausoleum, but easily recognizable. Atop the great structure was another Elder Gate.

Mirian turned back, mind whirling. It was a long path, and she still had many years to travel on it. But it will be worth it, she thought, looking out at the wondrous world below her.

Soon enough, she’d need to get back to her task. For now, though, she just watched it, taking in the beauty of the world below.