Mirian stood on the top floor of Aurum Tower, looking out across Vadriach City, waiting for Sylvester Aurum to stop writhing on the ground. Of all the industrialists who she’d forced memories into, he’d done something impressive: he’d requested it.

The sun was setting on Vadriach, and the long shadows of the towers shadowed the streets, making the thousands of glyph lamps spread across the city remind her of the void above.

Aurum rose on unsteady legs, gripping one of the gilt chairs that was probably more expensive than the entire village of Arriroba. He let out a hiss of breath, then stood straight. Mirian didn’t have to turn to be able to magically sense the scars she’d just left in his soul by forcing her memories into him.

She’d shared a memory she didn’t normally share: the one of what Enteria looked like from the void.

“There’s no frontier,” Aurum said, voice hoarse.

“Essentially,” Mirian said. “Maybe someday we’ll return to the void. But our Enteria ends at the storm wall. Xylatarvia’s gift was no metaphor. They carved out a piece of the world for us—but just a piece.”

Aurum grunted and came to stand by Mirian. “I want to say it’s a trick,” he said.

“That’s the most common response. Lester Rosen went with that one.”

“He’s a good friend,” Aurum said quietly. “But he never did have vision.”

“Six months,” Mirian reminded him.

The richest man in the world stood there, silent. “I’ll build it,” he said. “I’ll order every factory to change production. Whatever the regulator needs, I’ll have them build it. My investors won’t like it, but I’ll talk to them.”

“Whatever you tell me, it has to convince you as early as possible. Within a week is optimal. We only have six months.”

“I’ll have to order double shifts in almost every area. There’s no time to train enough people.” Then Aurum was silent again. She could tell he was wrestling with what he wanted to believe, and what Mirian had tried to show him. It was difficult to deny the glowing eyes. The sword of a Prophet. Armor and magical intricacy that shattered the frontiers of modern arcanism. But plenty had. Truth had already destroyed a long list of people she’d talked to.

“How many have you sentenced to death?” Aurum asked.

“Forty-seven.”

“Out of?”

“Fifty-four.”

He shivered. “I don’t think it’s possible.”

Mirian scoffed. “I’ve known I needed to do the impossible for over thirty years. Even the Elder creatures can’t find the timeline where we succeed. It hasn’t stopped me. It won’t.”

Sylvester Aurum didn’t kneel. He couldn’t bring himself to. That pride inside him was like an iron rod that kept him from it. But he inclined his head.

Now we see, she thought.

***

The next cycle, she stood over Aurum’s corpse, mulling over what divination spell to cast next. He’d been poisoned, but it was hard to say by who. Had it been the furious investors who were watching their dreams of wealth evaporate? Had it been an agent of the RID who saw his political reversal as a betrayal? Had it been the more militant workers who had tired of the double-shifts and cuts to pay? Had it been one of his former business partners? Members of the self-appointed “Zenith council” operating with one foot in the RID and one foot outside it who were already on her naughty list? Rivals?

Zhuan had given her an analogy when she met with her in the dream: those in the heights of power were like men shackled to a train, walking alongside it. As long as they moved in the same direction as the train, they could imagine they were free—or perhaps even that they were pulling it along. But try to break through those shackles, try to move a different direction, and the strength of the chains made itself known.

Miran had seen something similar in Torrviol when she’d first tried to change the course of the town. One person couldn’t reverse the course of the train. But thousands, pulling at their shackles at once? Now Torrviol moved in a different direction.

Of course, the analogy broke down when one tried to ask who the conductor was, or why the engineers couldn’t simply reverse the force engine. Maybe she ought to have used a metaphor involving a river, she thought, continuing to page through her spellbook.

Her detect poison spells failed to find where the poison had originated from. Still, not a total failure. They were seeing roughly ten percent more material shipped over to Baracuel. She made a note in her spellbook, which was more notes than spells these days.

Her list of people she’d deemed as hopeless impediments to the salvation of Enteria was growing steadily. Director Matteus and Grand Marshal Caldwell were much like the Corrmier brothers—only able to conceive of helping the world after they’d damned it. The train was slowing. The timeline was bending ever closer.

She left the body and flew off. More people to talk to. More things to see. More experiments to try.

***

She and Gabriel visited Persama next. There, the elimination strategy was much more volatile. Akana Praediar could lose a lot of people and still move in the same basic direction. The social inertia was higher, the institutions more robust, and systems held far more sway than individuals.

The various princes and warlords, on the other hand, were load-bearing pieces of the political structures of each city. Killing them immediately triggered a power struggle. Some factions were ready for it. Others weren’t.

“I don’t like it,” Gabriel said at the end of one of their trial cycles. “It’s certainly convenient, but I’m not in position to exploit the assassinations at the very beginning of the cycle. Besides, most of them can be convinced with a nice enough carrot and a big enough stick.” He walked over to the window of the palace they were in. “The regulator is working?”

“It’s a work in progress. I underestimated the amount of labor that would be needed. There’s requirements for redundancy. Arcanists checking each other’s work. There’s also still research that needs to be done. Xecatl is still working on developing the hybrid myrvite plants we need to fill gaps in the spirit construct. Zhuan is still working on efficiently seizing Saising. I’m off to work with her next.”

Gabriel sighed. “I’m not particularly enthusiastic about what the political developments down there will mean for the long term. I think it’d be a lot less bloody if she just restored the monarchy and got everyone to play along. Hells, she could puppet an illusionary copy of the monarch. She’s got the mana and spell power to do that.”

“We still need to completely end all fossilized myrvite consumption after stopping Divir’s fall. Within ten years is ideal. Within twenty at most. Those parts of the plan should and can be implemented as we’re working on construction of the regulator. I could convince Aurum to change the production targets of his factories. But he couldn’t even conceive of how to change them away from using foss. I know you don’t like how messy changing over systems is, but I don’t think there’s another way. We’re in a position to do it the kindest way possible, though. There won’t be another Mahatan massacre if we all work together. We can remove the most violent people before they start commanding armies.”

“Hmm,” Gabriel said, looking more serious than usual. “Liuan likes this new you, but I find myself suspicious of it.”

“I haven’t changed,” Mirian said. “Enteria comes first. Then, it’s save as many lives as I can. I just understand better now what it’s going to take to see that happen. You told me to try different things, and weigh the lives? I’ve started doing that. Killing Kallin Corrmier saves thousands of lives, maybe tens of thousands. Killing Director Castill, just as many. These are people holding a bloody knife to the neck of Enteria and demanding the world only live if they get to keep tearing chunks off of her. As long as they have their grip on the world, they’ll continue to extract their bloody tribute. We spill more blood now to create a world free of war and death in the future.”

Gabriel was silent. He paced back and forth, then turned. “It’s… idealistic. You really think humanity can do that? Create a world free of that kind of conflict? Has it ever happened, in all our thousands of years of history?”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“It might have. It might again. Maybe it is impossible. But I have to try. We have to try.”

“Hmm,” he said again, turning back to the window. The sun was setting again. “I’ve been meaning to tell the others that if someone finds a particularly nice sunset, they should memorize the day and place and let us know. There’s several sunsets in Urubandar I find myself going out of my way to see again and again. The one on 8th of Duala—gorgeous!” Glancing back at Mirian he added, “It’s one of my hobbies now. You need things to look forward to in order to stay sane.”

“I can spare a brief note,” Mirian said.

“Thanks.” He turned back to the window. “This one’s nice too. Just an empty sky and a perfect gradient of fading color. However, the best one so far is the 2nd of Merisheth, seen from Ferrabridge. There’s this big blob of clouds off to the west, but there’s these gaps in them. You get patches of cyan sky above the clouds and these glowing orange and violet paint strokes across the clouds, then this beautiful bright line of gold on the horizon. Absolute perfection.”

“I’ll have to visit then. You might like the sunset from Torrviol on the 7th of Nerevain.”

“Oh?”

“Won’t spoil it for you,” Mirian said with a sly smile.

Gabriel chuckled. He was silent again, watching the sky. “I’ve been meaning to ask—how do you break past 106 myr? Any tips?”

Mirian raised an eyebrow. “Congratulations, you’re an archmage now.”

“Yeah, I guess. For some reason, it didn’t feel like much of an accomplishment. Just a thing I needed to get done.”

“Soul magic exercises are important. But aside from the added soul exercises, I’m still following a lot of Archmage Luspire’s advice. And Song Jei’s. Raw magic exercises. Constant practice with a variety of spells. The most critical is spell intensity.”

“You’re still doing that? I haven’t heard any thunderstorms, though.”

Mirian opened her hand and an orb of energy appeared. Her hand tensed. The orb began to brighten, then a veil of absolute darkness wrapped around it. Gabriel held his breath. He wouldn’t be able to see or hear the physical energies; Mirian was using a shield of each energy type to block the same energy type as she generated it. However, he would be able to feel it. The orb pulsed and shivered as she simultaneously generated and subdued an incredible amount of power. Then she dismissed it.

He stood there, momentarily stunned. “That kind of control…” he murmured. Then, louder, “What’s the limit on spell power?”

“I’ll find out,” Mirian said.

***

More cycles. More progress. Mirian considered the production numbers out of Benansuo and some of the smaller nearby cities. Zhuan was working miracles to spin up production so quickly.

There was, however, still the difficulty of moving it. She was working on iterating on her seizure of Saising. If she could take over the Akanan warships in port before they were scuttled or sailed away, she’d be able to keep the cargo ships from all getting eaten by the increased leviathan activity. The leviathans that had attacked Gabriel’s oceangoing expedition, forcing he and Mirian to move through the Jiandzhi instead, never stopped patrolling the western coast. Mirian had hoped they’d move on later in the cycle or the ambient mana changes in the area would chase them off, but they simply sat around being pests.

She’d been working with Zhuan the past few cycles. When she’d asked which of the nastiest tyrants of Saising might be useful to remove at the beginning of the cycle, the other Prophet had immediately provided her with a list.

Then, she’d stopped and stared at Mirian.

“You spoke of contingencies at one of the dream-meetings, but I didn’t understand. Now I do.”

Mirian looked at her. “Oh?”

“The early elimination strategy. You can’t do it in every region. Even you can’t levitate and kill that fast. It’s not about testing where it might be most effective. You still have a reserve of relicarium, don’t you?”

Once again, Mirian was reminded of Jei. It wasn’t just that she had a sharp mind, it was that she thought in similar ways. “One cube,” she said. “There’s a few promising Labyrinth entrances east of Madinahr. I’ve been exploring them off and on. From the data I’ve taken, there’s roughly a 20% chance of a cube appearing in a Vault. I should be able to locate one or two more there.”

Zhuan Li nodded. “You waited long enough to tell them about relicarium that it didn’t matter anymore. You gain trust, but it’s unlikely they’ll beat you to any given Vault. But you’re not planning to use the one you have left to bind artifice components, are you?”

“No. I have the ones I need already.”

She nodded her head. “I understand.” Then she looked up. From the tower they were in, they could see the Luamin moon peeking through the clouds. “I see now. When the Unmoored said we have more time than we need, he implied that spending too many cycles in the loop would be detrimental. That could be read as impacting our mental state, but no—it’s not that. It’s that eventually, the others would perceive the strategy you intend and implement a counter-strategy. Material can be bound with relicarium. But it can’t be unbound. On a long enough timeline, the Prophets would irreversibly sabotage each other.”

“That is my interpretation of the matter.”

Zhuan leaned against the window sill. Mirian liked the way the moonlight played across her silver hair. “I’ve been planning my own contingencies. Given enough time, I think I can account for the betrayal of any two Prophets—with one exception. The only one I can’t plan for is you. However, I’m choosing to trust you. It’s clear to me that if you wanted to eliminate the other Prophets from the loop, you could. If you wanted to dominate Enteria, I think you would.”

“I appreciate your trust,” Mirian said. “The only one I’m not planning for is Ceiba Yan. I don’t think the sacred tree even really understands ‘betrayal’ as a concept. Given the kind of power it has, I also don’t think I’d win in a fight.”

“It hurts to hear you have a plan to deal with me,” Zhuan said. “But I understand.”

“There’s two Prophets that are most critical. You and Liuan. I don’t know if it’s possible to build the regulator without both Zhighuan and Akanan labor.”

Zhuan turned. “I’ll make it work. And if you want to implement your relicarium-elimination strategy in Saising soon, I’ll make sure the news is suppressed. Then we have a better chance at dealing with the leviathans.”

“Actually, I think we can deal with the leviathans now.”

Zhuan raised an eyebrow at her.

“I haven’t been wearing Equinox in front of the other Prophets because I want them to underestimate me. The armored robe, however, is not just a miniature regulator. This bottleneck needs to be eliminated. How much did I tell you about Apophagorga?”

“Not much. That you took its catalyst. That’s when you must have realized you could use relicarium to permanently kill something. Or someone.”

“Sort of. However, my detectors started detecting the magical anomaly near the leylines just a few years ago. The myrvite titans have limited abilities to remember loops. Like more primitive versions of the Elder creatures, the gatelings. If it can send memories, then it can send soul fragments. I think it’s been rebuilding its catalyst over the past few decades. Eventually, I might need to go deal with it again.”

Zhuan gave her a quizzical look. “I don’t—ah, I see. The leviathans are like the cataclysm beasts. Xecatl mentioned their behavior changed after she and Ceiba Yan bound a leviathan catalyst. So you will…?”

“Threaten them into compliance. You’re free to come along.”

***

The next day, a single ship left Saising, heading north along the coast. The mixed Zhighuan and Akanan crew were sweating. They’d all heard about the ship attacks. They all knew every ship scheduled from Urubandar hadn’t made it to port in the past few months.

Mirian kept to the bow of the ship with Zhuan, the wind blowing through their hair.

“How romantic,” Zhuan said. “Is this how you dated in your academy? ‘Ah, hello fellow student. Shall we go myrvite hunting together? I will skin a bog lion for you.’”

Mirian laughed. “And what were yours like? ‘We will discuss theory in a stuffy room, but only if you read these eight books first’?”

Zhuan smiled. Then her smile turned into a frown. There were three wakes approaching from the northwest. She conjured a lens spell. “Three of them.”

When Mirian had first visited Tlaxhuaco, she’d had trouble keeping two leviathans away. “Won’t be a problem,” she said, and Equinox manifested on her body, the sigil-covered dark silk contrasting with the shining mythril. The two leyline repulsors materialized next, slotting into the back.

Zhuan stepped back.

One of the officers of the ship approached them and bowed. “Exalted One, they’re coming right at us. Shall we—”

“She has it handled. Maintain course,” Zhuan said.

Two of the leviathans dove, the water churning as their spines dipped below the waves, but the first continued forward, charging directly at their boat. The ship they were on was a military vessel, one of the newer designs with a steel hull, but it was only half the size of even one of the leviathans.

Mirian waited. She could see the souls of the two leviathans that were approaching from below. They weren’t moving as fast. Presumably, the lead leviathan was there to lure attacks from deck artillery or sorcerers, and then the other two would rise up and hit the boat from an unexpected angle. Possibly, most crews would probably start dropping sonic depth charges early as they panicked, wasting them.

The lead leviathan approached. Its aura began to stir as it readied a spell.

The mana erupted from Mirian like a geyser. She raised a hand high, and light burst from the back of Equinox as her excess energy vented. The water churned as great claws of force grabbed on to the leviathan and lifted.

A gasp erupted from the crew as the beast was pulled up. Water cascaded off it as Mirian pulled the entire leviathan out of the water. The beast roared as it squirmed in the air, spines the size of sails flexing, tentacles as thick as trees flailing. It thrashed violently, tail whipping out as its huge body sought to break free of Mirian’s spell—to no avail. Higher and higher the leviathan went. When it cast a blast of force, a huge shield shimmered in front of the ship. Water sprayed everywhere as the leviathan’s force blast hit the waves, but the boat remained dry and undamaged.

The entire crew was gaping by now. Even Zhuan’s mouth had fallen open.

Mirian brought the creature slamming back down into the waves.

A huge wave splashed outward, and again, the shield in front of the boat shimmered as the water parted around the vessel. The deck tilted wildly up and down as the water below it churned.

The two leviathans that were now approaching from below stopped, looking up at their dead pod member.

Mirians aura reached out to them. Your mate will be fine in the other continuums—unless I decide otherwise. Let’s come to an arrangement, Mirian sent.

In the end, she found it was significantly easier to talk to leviathans than it was to talk to industrialists.

***

The next cycle, the leviathans had cleared out from the coast.

The cycle after that, Zhuan Li took the city of Saising in record time. Ships full of material and people began moving up the coast to Urubandar, then upriver.