I gasped, leaning forward, gripping the table before me for support. The feeling of my skull splitting lingered. Beyond that a numbness spread through me, my insides hollow and aching. Above, the tilted chandelier swung back and forth. It seemed more angled now, nearly vertical, tortured chain on the verge of plummeting to the table below.

  There was only one explanation for what I'd seen.

  The explosion of violence, and the seemingly impervious reaction.

  With effort, I let go. Because the course was set. Beyond a small number of details to work out, the wheels were already in motion. Everything else was simply a question of timing.

  Someone gripped my leg beneath the table. Maya stared at me in open concern, all but asking the question aloud.

  "No." I told her, managing a small smile. "But it will be."

  Father and mother were still pointedly staring away from each other. I had questions for the queen. Many, many questions. But they would wait. For now, their glasses were empty. I stood, smoothing my garments and passed behind Sera, placing a hand on her back as I swiped a jug of a particularly potent red vintage and approached my parents.

  They'd always been giants in my eyes. And in some ways that was still the same. I eyed my father's empty glass, proffering the contents of my jug.

  "I've had too much already."

  "Come now," I slid the glass from beneath his palm, filling it to half. "A man with as many demands as you have piling atop a desk is always in need of a libation. Take the pleasures where you can find them."

  "Hmph," He grunted. Nonetheless, he looked pleased.

  Queen Elaria didn't offer her glass. She seemed unnerved, and was watching me intently, measuring for… something, though I couldn't divine what. I took her glass too, filling it to a finger span from the top. "You, alternatively, should probably drink less, but one lush to another, I'll serve us both anyway."

  I'd nearly turned away before she stood, wrapping me in a tight embrace. Unexpected as it was, I let her, returning the gesture slowly, remembering all the times since her departure I'd missed her touch.

  "Talk later?" I murmured.

  "That would be best." She agreed.

  As I returned to my chair, filling Sera's glass as she asked for it, this time none the wiser, I couldn't understand where the calmness had come from. Part of it was certainty. The worst part of every loop was working out the rules, who the players were, who I could trust, and who I couldn't.

  That was mostly over now.

  There were still two pieces I was missing. Given how the previous attempt had played out, I was inclined to think Thaddeus was telling the truth. And as for the missing goddess, well…

  My eyes flitted back to my mother. Despite being beside myself, despite being away for what felt like an eternity, I hadn't missed it, the last go-around, when she'd broached retiring early. Namely that it hadn't happened before. This instance, her behavior had changed again. People didn't diverge at the beginning of a reset. At least initially, they said the exact same things, and took the exact same actions. It was only after, when the many variables that influenced and informed a person had ever so slightly altered, that they changed.

  I poured into the remains of my wine, stopping at a quarter glass. Warmth of emotion rose within me. I crushed it down ruthlessly, maintaining the placidity, forcing it back into place.

  Then I raised it, looking over them all, clinking the arm of a gilded fork against my glass, eliciting a merry ting.

  "I'd like to propose a toast. To the days we lost. My departure was nearly as messy as my return. But there was not an evening that passed that I didn't think of every single one of you."

  I tipped my glass towards Annette, who was caught out attempting to stuff half a baked turnip into her mouth. "My favorite little sister. I missed your sharpness, the sword of intellect you use to disarm the inferior minds of everyone around you. Watching you grow into a force to be reckoned with has been a triumph."

  I turned to Sera, who looked vaguely offended. "And to my favorite older sister—as much as I scorned it at points, I missed the way we goaded each other on. You lit the fire of competition in me, and that fire has taken me far in this life. It's my honor to have you as my banner lieutenant, and more importantly, a dear friend."

  Reinforcing my nerve, I raised the glass to the queen. "Mother. I missed your stories. Truly. I missed them so dearly, it felt like I'd lived entire lifetimes without them. Without your guidance and admonition, I'm not sure who I would have been. Someone entirely different. Likely worse." The queen tipped her glass towards me in return, smile fading.

  "Father," I shifted to him, transitioning without a second's hesitation. "You taught me to be exactly the sort of man I've always wanted to be. It was you who drove me to strive for perfection. Imparted that some victories are worth any cost. To never compromise, even when the world itself is against you. For that, you'll always have my gratitude."

  My voice grew quieter.

  “Should the naval plot succeed, there will almost assuredly be other conflicts. But know this. Whatever the threat, on the fateful day we draw swords together, of one mind and purpose? It will be my greatest honor to shape Uskar alongside you. To the bitter end.”

  “To the bitter end!” The king thumped the arm of his chair, grinning savagely. "Here here."

  No one seemed particularly bothered by the address. I'd been complimentary enough that the previously tense silence smoothed into conversation far lighter than it'd been the first time.

  The stage was set.

  I placed my fork down. "That reminds me. Tomorrow, we'll be leaving for Kholis, looking to shore up some alliances with the local nobility…"

  /////

  The crescent moon rose in the late evening, the chill of the coming winter pervading the flophouse. It was a shithole in the kindest of terms—I could think of several trees I'd slept in that'd been far more comfortable.

  I sat in the only chair, a cushioned, rickety thing that squeaked at the first thought of movement. On my lap was the sword breaker, its muted green reflecting the sparse occupants of the clear night sky through the dust-matted window. There was no hurry. I'd disarmed his tripwire, a simple thread tied as a door trap, and retied it behind me.

  Eventually he would return.

  Bringing Maya up to speed had been far easier, sticking to summary in lieu of memory, delaying that more gentle delivery of information to a point we were both in a more stable place, free of all the uncertainty. She'd agreed, tentatively, with a number of conditions, all of which were reasonable.

  There was a distant creak of stairs, and a series of footsteps starting from below and approaching the door. Three people, one short, the others of similar height. Thaddeus's voice carried through the thin walls, oddly unburdened and carefree, along with the tittering of two higher pitched voices, likely his paid accompaniment of the night.

  I pulled my hood over my head and waited.

  There was a whinge, and click, and the door slid open, snapping the tripwire. He paused there, glancing into the darkness as if nothing was amiss, then closed it again.

  I heard him bid his companions goodbye prematurely, and from the congeniality of their complaints, concluded he must have paid them in advance.

  Easy gold for a short walk.

  He stood out front for a while, back of his matted grey hair visible through the glass, a gentle plume of smoke rising from his pipe. Then, with all the trepidation of a man walking to his demise, he opened the door again, and lit the lamp.

  His dark eyes took me in, keen in how they caught the light, even as his jaw dropped open.

  "How'd you know?" I asked.

  Seeming satisfied with the absence of an immediate, outright attack, he calmed some, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him, pushing it closed until it clicked. "There were a few subtleties that gave you away. Not your fault, really. I'm particular about my places of rest. The sort of thing that comes with experience, when you've been doing this as long as I have." He paused. "Are you going to kill me?"

  "What an odd conclusion to draw." I gave the hilt of the knife a circular twist, indicating the room at large. "Maybe I'm just here to admire the scenery."

  "Well. So long as it's not planted in my throat, I can work with that." He smoothed his robe. "In the meantime. Tea?"

  "It never calls to me in the evenings."

  He nodded along, pouring water from the spigot of a cistern into a kettle, which he placed upon his stove, lighting a fire to warm his hands. "It's—your reliance on vurseng."

  I frowned. "I don't smoke it daily."

  "Hardly matters." He went through his cupboards, passing by at least three cups before he found the one he wanted. "It's a jealous substance. Monopolizes your impulses, points them back toward the pipe before anything else."

  "No matter how old I get, you never fail to nag."

  Thaddeus laughed politely, stirring his cup silently, spoon never making contact with the cup's interior. "Once upon a time, I thought of myself as something of a guardian to you." His smile faded. "That didn't last long, of course. No one likes a tongue wagging behind their back. Even if it was in a professional capacity."

  I flipped the knife, catching it idly. "That won't work."

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  "Preparing tea?" Thaddeus's brows formed a question.

  I leaned forward. "Endearing yourself, playing up well-meaning regret, leaning too heavily on nostalgia."

  "Ah. You're upset. Hence the brandishing."

  "What's there to be upset about?" I bared my teeth.

  He paled a little, then recovered. "…it is in my nature to needle, but perhaps I should stop pressing my luck." Wood scraped wood as he dragged a stool from the kitchen to a spot in front of me, not too far, but entirely out of range. He breathed the aroma of his tea in deeply, then held the cup to his lips, taking the smallest of sips. "The game is yours, prince. You've caught me off guard. And if I'm honest, I'm tired of hiding. So what is it you want?"

  "You tell me. I was informed that you wanted to confess."

  The cup slipped from his fingers, shattering upon the floor. His eyes grew sharp, even as his jaw dropped open. "I've never spoken those words aloud. To anyone."

  "It happened in a vision."

  "’Foresight.’"

  "Uh-huh."

  "And…" Thaddeus paused, still trying to wrap his mind around it. "What else occurred in this vision?"

  "A great deal." I shoved the knife back in its sheath and stood, checking out the window. The night was still calm. There were no sentries or lookouts, at least none foolish enough to draw attention to themselves. "But let's leave it at that, at least for the moment. I came for the confession. If you've nothing to offer, I'll take my leave."

  It would also mean his end.

  The road ahead was difficult enough as it was. Allowing Thaddeus to remain in the mix as an unknown quantity was simply a variable I couldn't afford. I'd paid a high price to find him, here, after his vigilance had long since slackened. There was no promise it would be as easy the next time, especially after this imposition.

  "How much time do you have?" He asked.

  "Until morning," I said, mostly in jest, though it was true.

  Thaddeus held his hand palm out. There was a surge of violet magic, tightening into a highly complex spell, which, at that point, I'd only seen a handful of times.

  Verias.

  In the scant seconds it took to process my shock, he pressed his hand against his heart, and the weave took hold.

  "Before we start, I should probably address the obvious. I'm the void mage you've been looking for."

  The moment of shock turned murderous as the initial impact faded. "Funny." I drew the sword breaker. "Because here I was, all but certain it was Gil."

  A look of pure horror crossed Thaddeus's face. "You didn't…"

  "We have yet to clash. At least, not in any fashion he remembers."

  Understanding dawned, followed by relief. "’Foresight.’ Right. Thank the gods for that."

  He said ‘foresight’ in the exact same intonation as he had the first time, as if skeptical, or at the very least, using it as a euphemism.

  I sent a spark down my leg and off my boot. Warmth flooded the room as it magnified in height, roaring into a waist high pillar, licking towards Thaddeus with alarming speed. Just as quickly it was cut down, magic unraveling at the weave level. He hadn't moved. Hadn't even blinked. And while somewhat close, he'd done it at range.

  He was exactly who he claimed to be. The Void Mage.

  It took every fragment of self-control I could muster not to cut him down right there and then. Thaddeus, seeming to sense this, sat extraordinarily still.

  With growing frustration, I settled back into the accursed chair, barely on the edge of the seat. "How is that possible?"

  "The king bears no native magic of his own. Of that I'm certain. What he has is a series of complex inscriptions that can be utilized at will, not entirely different from yours." Thaddeus looked pointedly at the markings rising from the neck of my tabard.

  "Yet I've never seen them."

  "Not every inscription is skin deep. Some are grafted far deeper, on the musculature, or in the king's case, etched into the bones themselves. An extraordinarily painful process. One that took years."

  "Your work?" I realized.

  "Yes." Thaddeus smiled thinly. "One of many sins."

  I let that sit, absorbing it. In truth, it changed little about what was to come. Though it drew this exchange, and the decision of what to do with Thaddeus, into far greater importance.

  "Why have you been hiding from me?"

  "On account of being too forthcoming with my doubts, I was ordered to remain out of sight, avoid you at all costs."

  “If you intended to simply roll over, coming to me first would have made managing this entire disaster a lot simpler.”

  “It wasn’t possible.” There was a surge of mana, and Thaddeus grimaced. “Within my capabilities, perhaps, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

  “Because?”

  “Gil… found me when I was nothing. Plucked me from the hellscape I was born in, and gave me a place in his employ. And he was patient with me, as I adjusted to this wonderous land, where the sun does not scorch the feet of those who walk upon it through the scalding stone beneath their sandals. Arguably only because he saw potential. Yet patient nonetheless.” His eyes grew glassy and distant. “He gave me everything. My life. My purpose. Even if he has grown reckless with age–even if the threat he now poses to Uskar rivals that of the arch-mage herself. There was a compulsion to wait. To give him time to reconsider. Extend the same patience I was given. And now you’re here, darkening my doorstep.”

  When I felt ready, I asked the obvious question. "What did you wish to confess?"

  He stared into the dark spot on the floor where his tea had fallen, musing over the fallen remnants. "Please retract the question. The list is not small, and we do not have the luxury of covering all of it in detail."

  "Fine. Absolved. Start with the metamorphosis initiative."

  "Right.” He sighed. “I’ve long suspected that was the source of your foresight. There’s not much to tell, really. The imminence of ragnarok has been something of an open secret among the movers and shakers of this world for decades. We came together in the early days. In theory, our assembly binding together a cabal of some of the sharpest minds and capable practitioners of magic the world had on offer, to singular purpose. In truth… we were little more than children, struggling in vain to bend the forces of the universe to our will. And like children, we watched our good intentions crash upon the rocks of reality as the various leaders and strictures of power we hailed from refused to so much as acknowledge the danger. The purse of the doomsayer is always empty. Without funding beyond what we were contributing personally–which quickly dried up, given the king’s ransom some of it cost–we found ourselves prophets absent ears. Then it quickly fell apart, and we went our separate ways."

  I wanted to ask so many things. Gods, there was no end to the litany of questions I had for him. But, for now, there was something more pressing at stake.

  “A collection of capable practitioners and sharp minds. Interesting descriptors, given the presence of a certain revenant on that list.”

  He paled and swallowed. “The Everwood sprawls countless wingspan. I couldn’t have known that you’d fall prey to him. To Barion. If I had even the slightest inkling, the crown would have been informed immediately, and the rangers would have reached you within a day.”

  I waited for a surge in mana, for another uncomfortable clarification. None came.

  It was true.

  “What I find more telling is counting someone who took little issue brutalizing children among your number.”

  Thaddeus huffed, shifting in annoyance that didn’t seem directed at me. “It’s not as if it started that way. At the beginning, he was reasonable. Sharp and capable. Only bordering madness. But he bristled beneath the restrictions we’d set and continually pushed the boundaries. Eventually there was an incident, and after that, he was no longer welcome in our number.”

  I crossed my leg, point of my boot aimed vaguely at his throat. “Only–you did find value in something Barion accomplished after, did you not?”

  “Yes.” Thaddeus’s answer was short. He seemed to be taking my measure, deciding how much to divulge.

  "—I already know about the chamber below the throne room."

  His mouth tightened, quivering. He blinked and looked away, rubbing his thumb against the back of his palm. "Ah. That's unfortunate. I was hoping to explain the intent before the outcome."

  "What intent could ever make that place less monstrous than it is?" I spat.

  He shook his head, still staring into the ground. "Perhaps nothing could. I… bring the crown opportunities. It's part of what's expected of me. When I saw what Barion had accomplished, I also saw how it could be applied. That Gil was willing to entertain the siege weapons at all was a miracle. They’re a force multiplier, and he ignored them out of stubbornness. The project—gods, it feels so reductive to call it that—was meant to process prisoners. Criminals condemned to death. Captured militants who'd be killed anyway. The siege weapons are mighty, terrible things and the mana cost reflects their immensity. It would take time to accumulate enough through such a method. But within a few years, we could have had one deployment prepared, maybe even two if we took on unwanted exports. And if it worked for the arch-mage, it would strengthen our defenses in the face of ragnarok, maybe even enough to matter."

  "Unwanted exports being prisoners from elsewhere?" I clarified.

  Thaddeus nodded, looking green and unsettled. "It was part of my original proposal. And he seemed amenable. At least at first. But once we received the bulk of the reports, and memory orbs… it rattled him. And when he grows frightened, he stops listening to reason. There was a time his tyranny held things together. Deterred greater conflicts, as difficult as that may be to believe. To put it bluntly, the relative good outweighed the relative bad. But that time is over. He failed to grasp the greater opportunity Thoth represents."

  "And that is?" I asked him.

  "A common enemy, terrifying enough to rally the entire world against her." Thaddeus looked up at me wryly. "The sort of conditions under which new alliances are born, old differences and grudges discarded. Rebirth. What you realized from the start, young as you were. And more than that, a genuine opportunity to thwart the end of the world. He saw it too—and threw it away. All for the sake of stockpiling the most temporary sort of power."

  "Well gods know that's over and done with." My lip curled. "It was difficult enough to forge new bonds before all this. Once it comes out… we will be an island unto ourselves. If we’re not immediately under siege for that matter."

  Thaddeus shook his head. "Not necessarily. Depending on how the narrative is shaped, it could even play in your favor. But if the information were to simply leak while the king is still in power, then yes. We are likely lost."

  "That sounds like treason." I said, careful to frame it as a statement.

  A small smile played across his lips. "If you discovered the chamber in a ‘vision,’ it's not difficult to put together the sequence that led to the false impression that Gil was a master of void."

  "You want to help me." I realized, not entirely sure what to make of the revelation.

  "From the moment I read the letter. It was rough around the edges. A bit too idealistic. But I saw the potential between the words."

  "Throwing in your lot with mine does not atone for the things you've done."

  He grew crestfallen and gripped his hands together tightly. "I know."

  "It is not my place to absolve you. You'll need to make it right. Even the toll."

  "That’s all I want."

  There was so much more I needed to ask. About lycaon, how the tethering worked, and beyond that, if he had any idea how to sever Thoth’s connection to the iterations. But I had a sense he probably couldn’t answer anything for certain. At least, not yet. From his perspective, the initiative had failed, and all they’d had was theory until I’d suddenly popped up seemingly out of nowhere, crowing about foresight and visions.

  “At some point soon, I’ll need you to bring me anything regarding the initiative you have. Details of meetings, theories, what you would have done if you’d been allotted the necessary resources.”

  “Connect the dots between what we had and where it might have led. I can do that.” He agreed easily.

  I steepled my fingers under my jaw “More immediately, I’ll need help with the obvious over the next few days.”

  “Yes…” His expression clouded. “You know you can’t do it here. It needs to happen in an isolated setting, some staging ground where a vengeful army will not be biting at your heels.”

  “Leave that to me.” I said, feeling a weariness sweep over my mind, pausing to evaluate. There was one last thing I needed to ask, while I had him beneath the spell’s thrall.

  "Why suppress Annette’s power? To what purpose?"

  He shifted in discomfort. "It would be accurate to say I was asked to do so. But not by Gil."

  "Then—"

  "—Before you ask the clarifying question, know that I cannot give an answer. By oath to another."

  /////

  He swore fealty before the visit was over, still under the influence of Verias. I still felt conflicted about it. Given the choice, I might have stayed longer, asked more questions. About the metamorphosis society. How much he knew, and the part he'd played.

  But in truth, I wasn't sure how much more I could take. And the night was not yet over.

  I braced myself.

  And entered the queen's chambers.

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