The Beginning After The End Chapter 447: A Certain State in Time

The matte black cube rested on the bed in front of me, its weight pressing down into the surface of the soft blanket. It was heavy, dull, and frustratingly blank, lacking any indication that this was some repository of great insight. Had I not received it from the last djinn remnant, as well as already having worked through the long and frustrating process of unlocking the first two keystones, I might have given it up as some aether-rich broken relic and simply absorbed the power.

Sylvie was sitting at the foot of the bed with her knees tucked up against her chest, gaze distant as it passed through the cube to focus on something very far away. She shifted slightly, a frown pulling down the corners of her lips. She had been troubled ever since the broadcast, although she had kept her feelings close to her chest.

Our journey back to the second level of the Relictombs had been relatively uneventful. Sylvie hadn’t experienced a repeat of her first foray into the Relictombs, which had allowed us to fly through the giant-tree zone and directly to the exit portal. A contingent of Denoir soldiers had been waiting for us, along with my sister. Ellie had proved a bit of a conundrum for the highbloods, as no one knew where she fit into their strict caste system, allowing her to do whatever she wanted—which apparently included pestering and bossing around entire squads of highblood battle groups.

Our reunion had been short-lived, however, as I’d rushed to deliver my news to Seris. That conversation, too, had been brief, as she had asked for time to consider what this meant for our plans. Grateful for that, I’d retreated to a room in the Dread Craven to rest.

After an hour of quiet meditation and absorbing ambient aether, I had found my mind too cluttered to be restful, and so, as I often had since being rewarded with the very first keystone, I found myself intent upon a djinn relic as a way to focus my mind.

Now, staring down at it, I had to wonder what I had hoped to accomplish.

Unlike the first two keystones, I couldn’t even fully enter this one. When my aether imbued it, I felt myself pulled inward like before, but instead of transitioning into the aetheric space—represented previously by a sort of wall of purple energy—I was pushed back.

The frustrating itch from my core only seemed to make focusing more difficult

Acknowledging the scar made the itch worse, and I couldn’t help but focus on it, my mind digging into that itch like fingernails.

Aether no longer lingered around the wound. Aside from the scar, my core seemed to have healed completely, and I hadn’t sensed any effect on my ability to channel or store aether. But that didn’t make the itch any less irritating.

Releasing a small amount of aether from my core, I scratched at its surface to relieve the itch, but this did nothing. The sensation didn’t feel like it was in my core, after all, but in the back of my mind. The worst part was, I couldn’t tell if it was an actual physical sensation or just a thought that wouldn’t let me go.

I cycled more aether, pushing it out and reabsorbing it, a building desperation to scratch the itch swelling in my chest, laced with frustration that the wound had left behind this scar, like a memorial to my failure. Despite taking many wounds, some of them even more grievous, I’d never been left with lingering pain or discomfort, not since my discovery of aether.

‘Maybe focusing on it is just making it worse?’ Sylvie suggested.

I had twin flashbacks to memories from both of my childhoods when my mother and Headmaster Wilbeck patiently explained that scratching my irritated skin would only make the itching worse in the long run.

Sighing, I pulled my mind away from the sensation. I needed to be intentional, purposeful in how I thought—or didn’t think—about it. And so I forced my concentration back to the keystone.

Settling my mind into a calmer place, I activated Realmheart and began attempting to manipulate the aether of the keystone in a variety of ways. Directly imbuing aether into it drew my mind toward it, but I was rebuffed without ever entering the interior keystone realm itself. Poking and prodding at the inherent aether and mana within the relic made the internal structure quake in an uncomfortable way, like I was at risk of breaking it, but did nothing to open it to me or reveal its contents.

“Not sure why I’m so worried about breaking it, it’s like it’s already…broken…” I trailed off, realization wiping away my frustration and replacing it with a sudden wary excitement.

Sylvie’s frown deepened and she sat up straighter, watching me silently.

The scar on my core itched again as I activated it, pushing mana into Aroa’s Requiem. Aetheric motes spilled down my arms and jumped to the keystone, buzzing over the matte surface before being drawn into the relic. Closing my eyes, I let my mind flow with them, and again I was pulled inward. Darkness extended before me, full of distant pinpoints of light.

Then I was shunted uncomfortably back into my own body.

“Did you feel that?” I asked, too excited to be disappointed. “Something was definitely different that time.”

Sylvie shook her head and scooted slightly closer. “But why?”

“The godrune lets me sort of…push time through an item, turning back the clock on something that is broken.” I considered the exit portal from the snowy zone where I’d met Three Steps and the other Shadow Claws. Then I remembered the visions of a potential future I’d seen when attempting to unlock insight into that first keystone. “Whether because of my own failures in understanding or some natural limit due to my affinity with spatium aether arts, I couldn’t master it, not the way I did Realmheart. There are…limitations.”

Still, I was eager to keep trying now that I’d made some progress—or at least thought I had.

Activating Aroa’s Requiem again, I let the amethyst motes gravitate toward the keystone on their own, not controlling them directly. I purposefully held my mind back, not wanting to be drawn into the keystone only to be forced out again, which would prevent me from tracking the godrune’s progress.

Aetheric particles buzzed over the keystone, some sinking into it, but only just below the surface. I felt them hanging there, suspended, almost trembling with suppressed purpose as my intention overrode the particles’ natural inclination.

I felt certain that Aroa’s Requiem was the key, but some keys turned differently than others.

My intent, I realized. Just as I had to purposefully consider the scar in a certain way to keep it from burrowing through my conscious mind, I had to channel the godrune with a specific intent as well. Because it didn’t simply allow me to fix a static object, but manipulate the way time had worked on that object.

That was the key. The relic wasn’t broken or in need of fixing, but perhaps it had to be aligned with a certain state it had been in time to open.

“Ingenious,” I muttered, wondering at the djinn mind that had created such a puzzle.

Feeling myself beginning to grin, I adjusted the way I was holding the godrune in my mind, and started pushing the channeled aether through the keystone. I envisioned it not as repairing some broken internal component, but rather turning back the hands of a clock, setting a series of cogs into motion within.

As these metaphorical cogs turned, I put pressure on the relic, trying to ease into the keystone realm within.

The room went dark again. And slowly, very slowly, the dark gave way to plum purple, then light pink, and finally I found myself before a wall of amethyst energy.

It had worked, but I was not drawn through the aetheric barrier, nor could I push myself into it.

But I knew now what needed to be done. There were four keystones. Each was needed to progress my understanding of the aspect of Fate. Since Aroa’s Requiem had brought me to this point…

With my mind entangled within the keystone, channeling aether into Realmheart took time. My connection to the godrune felt distant and tentative, but I was certain about my course and so never doubted what I was attempting to do.

Dozens of white lines of pure mana appeared in my vision, spilling out of narrow gaps in the barrier, invisible without sight of the mana particles.

Leaning forward, I drifted into one of the gaps. It carved through the aether like a maze, but by following the trail of mana I easily passed through. And it appeared within what I could only describe as an aetheric lightning storm.

Violet clouds of aether burst with bolts of hot white mana with a noise like shattering glass, the crashing flashes coming one after another with sickening frequency. Within moments, I felt my temples begin to ache and burn, my consciousness already being drawn out of the keystone realm and back toward my body.

I gritted my teeth and leaned into the sensation, forcing my way forward.

A bolt of mana struck me, and my mind lurched to a memory.

“It’s okay. I’m okay, Art.”

Tessia’s voice. Gentle. Her hands, a soft caress…

I sank to the cold, hard floor. Sobs ripped from my throat. Head resting in Tessia’s lap.

Her hands were warm, keeping me anchored, her voice like a healer’s magic, easing the pain…

A second bolt struck me from a different direction, and suddenly, the emotion was gone, leaving me hollow as I considered the ramifications of colliding technology and magical advancement, pondering what Dicathen might look like in three, four, even five hundred years.

Flash.

Bile rose up in the back of my throat as my mind was yanked to the memory of a lecture on mana beast differentiation while I’d been at Xyrus Academy.

Flash.

Eight years old. A maid standing in the doorway of a noble estate, looking down at me curiously.

“Hello. My name is Arthur Leywin. I believe my family is currently residing in this manor. May I speak to them?”

A familiar voice in the background: “Eleanor Leywin! There you are! You have got to stop running to the front door every time someone…”

My mother’s eyes, wide, her words stopping mid-sentence, a bowl tumbling from her hands.

In front of my mother, a little girl, dazzling brown eyes gazing up at me with innocent curiosity, ash brown pigtails on each side of her head.

Bolt after bolt struck, jerking me from one random thought, memory, or consideration to the next until it felt like my skull would split down the middle.

I let go, and the keystone realm hurled me out. My eyes snapped open, stinging with sweat.

Sylvie was right next to me, a cloth in her hand, futilely attempting to wipe my face. “There you are. I was worried sick. You went blank for a while, like your mind was totally empty.”

My heart was pounding in my chest, and the ache behind my eyes was still very much present. Sorry, I thought, my throat too dry to speak comfortably. It was…different, this time. Painful.

“What did you see?” Sylvie prodded my mind, and I opened up to her, drawing the events within the keystone forward. “Oh. I see.”

It’s a lock, I think. To move past it, I need the insight contained within—

“The missing keystone,” Sylvie said aloud as I thought it. She shook her head. “I assume you’ll be prioritizing finding it, then?”

I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “Looks like it.”

“Maybe you should go for a walk?” Sylvie suggested, passing me the damp hand towel. “I’m sure your sister would like to speak to you for more than a couple minutes.”

‘You could come visit me, you know,’ Regis's voice intruded from across the zone. ‘Just because I’m stuck in a head in a jar and you can telepathically communicate with me from across the Relictombs doesn’t mean the gesture wouldn’t be appreciated. Plus, I think I might be turning into a pickle here.’

I smiled despite myself and worked my fingers against my chest. Beneath the skin, my pulse was already beating slower, but this only brought attention back to my drained core and the itching scar across its surface. The feel of it wiped the smile off my face.

“Yeah, I better check in on everyone,” I admitted, stretching as I stood. “Coming?”

Sylvie shook her head before flopping down in the space I’d vacated. “I’m sorry, Arthur. What I learned when we first stepped into the Relictombs—and with our fight now—I feel like I need some time to process it. These powers don’t quite feel like mine yet. I just need some time to consider everything.”

“I can help if you want,” I said, not really wanting to leave the room yet myself.

She gave a small shake of her head. “I was planning on making Regis help me. As my sounding board, I guess.”

‘Sweet, something to do,’ he thought to both of us.

Understanding what she meant, I tussled my bond’s hair—to which she responded by slapping my hand away playfully—and left the small room.

One of the servants was standing at the top of the stairs, and when they saw me appear they hurried over, bowed, and said, “Lady Seris has stepped out but wanted me to inform you that she has come to a decision and would appreciate the opportunity to speak with you at your earliest convenience. She asked that I not disturb you, but wait until—”

I held up a hand, cutting them off. “Thank you, I appreciate that. Message received.”

They bowed and hurried away, vanishing down the stairs.

I followed more slowly, checking the rooms around mine for Ellie, Caera, or Chul, but they weren’t present. The taproom below was empty as well, except for a couple of guards. Two more stood outside the door, but they didn’t say anything as I passed. I considered asking about the others but realized almost immediately I didn’t have to.

A crash resounded through the city, and I could sense Chul’s mana from halfway across the zone.

Following the noise of repeated concussive bursts, I passed beyond the boundary of the ascenders’ neighborhood and found myself in an open park, the green grass bright beneath the faux-open sky. Fruit trees dotted the park, providing shade for tables and chairs where a handful of highbloods—their station clear from their clothes alone—sat and played Sovereigns Quarrel.

A burst of mana shook the leaves in the trees from not far away, drawing looks of ire from the concentrating highbloods.

Following the street that ran past this park, I soon found myself at a small outdoor arena. Half-moon stands wrapped around a sunken fighting pit surrounded by a protective field of mana. A few dozen spectators had gathered, filling in the stands in little pockets to watch as Cylrit and Chul faced off against one another in the arena below.

The two men stood slightly apart, Cylrit speaking deliberately as he repeated a motion with his arm, showing Chul something. I wasn’t surprised Chul had sought Cylrit out for training and sparring. When considering them purely on scale of power, Chul—a half-phoenix—far outstripped the Vritra-blooded retainer, but Cylrit was still likely the most powerful fighter in Seris’s force, and he’d been actively fighting a war while Chul was hidden beneath the Beast Glades living the life of a pacifist.

I kept back, half-hidden around one end of the stands, not wanting to interrupt the two warriors but curious to see them spar.

Imbuing aether into my ears, I heard Cylrit continue, “As for…‘burning yourself out like a blazing candle,’ I see what you mean. Your body is powerful, and because you know you can exhaust your mana quickly, you lean into that, pushing yourself hard at the beginning of a fight. And yet this only leads you to burn yourself out even more quickly.

“Your instincts for battle are strong, however, don’t doubt yourself in that regard. However, you rely on them heavily. To an enemy powerful enough to stand up to the raw strength of your first onslaught, this will make you predictable. You need study to augment instinct so that you are able to vary your tactics, especially as you seek to become more efficient as well.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” Chul said with a shrug of his broad shoulders.

Cylrit nodded. “Of course. Now, let us exchange a few more rounds. I want to see you put the strike I showed you into practice.”

Chul fell back a few steps and Cylrit slipped into a defensive stance, his hands up, his gaze focused. Chul jolted forward, his fists snapping out in a series of crushing blows. Cylrit used minimal force to deflect the blows, letting Chul’s own force aid in the subtle shifting of Cylrit’s footing.

They paused, and Cylrit offered a correction on Chul’s followthrough, then they repeated the exercise again. Letting my enhanced hearing abate as the noise of their sparring increased, I couldn’t make out the conversation and instruction passing between them, but I saw how quickly Chul adjusted and improved. There was an intentional focus to his training that I hadn’t seen from him before.

His embarrassment at the hands of the Scythe, Viessa, seemed to have been the evidence he needed that his lineage alone wasn’t enough to bring him victory. Despite being more than twice my age, even considering both my lives, Chul was in many ways just a boy. His mother had been captured, imprisoned, and killed by Agrona, while his father’s entire race had been exterminated by Kezess. He pictured himself a righteous avenger. I could just see him fantasizing about charging from the Hearth to single-handedly defeat both Kezess and Agrona, bringing justice for his people.

I didn’t have to imagine how he had felt when he realized that wasn’t going to happen.

They shifted their training, Cylrit putting Chul on the defensive and having him block a series of increasingly powerful blows. After a few minutes, Cylrit even drew his sword, forcing Chul to defend bare-handed, the bursts of mana from each exchange sounding like thunderclaps that rumbled throughout the zone.

For some reason, seeing Chul so focused helped me relax. Although I’d been too self-absorbed to acknowledge it, I was worried what the aftermath of our defeat would do to him mentally. Him showing such mental fortitude seemed like the best-case scenario, meaning I had one less thing to worry about. I left the arena with a smile, my mind turning to Caera and my sister.

It took longer to find Ellie. She wasn’t at the ascension portal, and none of the guards stationed there had seen her. Lauden of Highblood Denoir offered to send out a search par