1
Ascal Zinric, son of the lady Matral Zinric’a and Sorian Zinric’a, brother to Faren Zinric, ex-captain of the Charlemagne’s brigade and heir to the Zinric dukedom, woke up with a hoof indenting his cheek and a feathered foot pressed to his side. Some kind of sand smeared his green tunic an unpleasant shade of tan.
He blinked a moment, wondering what a great duke’s heir, a Zinric, was doing in a dog pile of mercenaries. Then the memory hit him. He was now just Bug. Bug the weaver with the funny antlers and missing leg. That was alright. Some days it took him a moment to reconcile Ascal with Bug. To remember his distance from Faren. But that was alright too; she had to understand he was trying to save her. It would just take some time. He yanked his arm out from under Leviathan’s puffy white wing and stared at the white flower etched into it. The Librarian had said five more years. He could do five more years.
He tried to imagine Faren carrying a bunch of Aether 101 books and attending one of those moving royal academies instead of a private daycare. His stomach did a funny little flip-flop as petals wilted from his broad antlers, coating Raziel and Leviathan in shades of red and blue. He could do five more years, Brass willing.
They were in the House of Truth’s Araneae, pretending to be adventurers, hired by the king and desperate for shelter. Funny thing about Araneae, they hated adventurers. But they loved Chaos Pockets, and those were the main areas adventurers worked in. So, in exchange for dangling some precious knowledge over the heads of the nobles, Raziel, Leviathan, and Ascal-Bug had been allowed to stay. It was a… Tenuous arrangement to say the least.
Bug grabbed the hoof against his face, one hand easily encasing the whole thing as he gently placed it aside. Normally, he would’ve tried to get up without disturbing Raziel, but, well, imp hooves were pointed on the bottoms for climbing, and he was pretty sure his cheek was going to bruise. With a quiet huff, he was able to maneuver around tail, claw, and wing to safely make his escape out of the stables. Ascal Zinric was sleeping on a bed of straw in a dog pile of mercenaries, inside a stable. Some days, he wondered why he hadn’t just amassed wealth as a captain of the brigade back in Skira and bought his way to answers instead of striking out alone. Slowly, quietly pushing the stable gate closed he caught the gleam of enormous yellow eyes staring at him over sharpened teeth and nearly cursed.
“Leviathan. Lev. I did not mean to disturb you.” His voice was low and slow, not wanting to wake Raziel. Leviathan stumbled over to Bug and helped him shut the stable gate with a grin.
“Where are we going, boss? Secret rendezvous? Meeting with the enemy for a betrayal conspiracy or, you know, sex.” He spoke in a whisper as well, taloned hand grabbing Bug around the shoulder in a gesture of familiarity that Bug shied away from. But he relaxed into it, leading Leviathan further from their companion and towards the main house. Sometimes it took a moment to revive the idea that Leviathan was different from most people he had met. Beyond cultures and customs. There was something in the way he spoke, like someone reading Common from a book. Something to do with how he knew things he shouldn’t and didn’t know things he should. As a noble, it was a part of Bug’s training to spot an outsider. He thought he was doing quite well.
“I wanted to speak with the lady of the house, the one with the library, about her collection.” He awkwardly placed his arm around Lev’s shoulders as well, before they looked at one another and both stepped away. The wrong move in this situation, then, he would remember that.
The estate itself was a spindly, delicate thing. Much more in the style of Luden’s many city-states rather than the kingdom itself. It was black, with wrought iron dressings surrounding the dark fa?ade. Having been here before as a child, Bug was familiar with the home’s layout though he figured exposing as much wouldn’t do them any good. Araneae did not play well with other nobles, viewing themselves as pioneers of research more than anything.
“Looking for anything in specific-” Leviathan tilted his head, eyes coasting to the left and unfocusing, before he clicked his tongue against his teeth. Turning his attention back to Bug, he sheepishly said, “-Sorry, stupid question. It’s for the decay, right?”
“Yes.” Bug didn’t like this topic, but if Leviathan was going to be there, then there was nothing he could do to stop it. Might as well have another set of eyes. No matter how unnerving he might find them.
They asked a tired guard where to find the library, and set off through winding staircases and long tiled halls to find it. Leviathan was panting by the time they hit the third floor, and Ascal proudly strode through the open doors of the town’s largest library, that of the Areaneae estate. Long pink shelves rose at least thirty feet up, extending for gods know how long. The books were a dulled blur of soft, natural colors; strong dyes had yet to find their place in Luden. The red carpet was so plush that Leviathan was finding it difficult to dig his talons in enough for a good footing. Ascal couldn’t recall how long it had been since he was allowed into a proper noble library. It felt good to be back.
Lady Aerensa was perched on the arm of a large loveseat, one leg delicately folded over the other as she read something in her hand with a furrowed brow. She didn’t look up as they entered.
“What is your business here, adventurers?” Long auburn hair fell to obfuscate part of her pale face, but she sounded annoyed.
“My greetings to you, Lady Aerensa.” Bug said with a respectful, but shallow, bow. “We were simply looking for any books you might have on the topic of disease. Of the body, preferably.” Leviathan had already wandered over to a shelf full of pale, thick tombs. His hands ran along their sides, quietly sounding out titles like a child.
The Lady finally lifted her head, eyes narrowed. “Do you have a contagion?"
“No! Nothing of the sort!” Bug replied quickly. “It is purely an academic concern.” Gods, but he hated lying. Mother had called it a strength of the heart rather than a weakness of the tongue, but he wasn’t so sure. By the way, Aerensa returned to her relaxed reading posture; it seemed he had pulled through for once.
“Fifteenth row on the left, you must be out before dawn or father will have fits. If you have any questions, keep them to yourself.” And she was back to her book, as if they had never entered.
Leviathan was already there, waiting for him.
“I will start at this end, and you can go to the other.” Bug had already started picking out titles with ‘decay’ or ‘rot’ or ‘amputation’ in the name by the time Leviathan politely coughed.
“Ah, Bug?”
“Yes, Lev?” He shuffled, hm’ing and ha’ing before finally turning his back on Bug with a sharp sort of determination.
“Nothing. Nevermind. I’ll get right to it, boss.”
Casting his companion out of his mind with one last questioning look, Bug got to work.
That library became his life for the next month. Going in, reading, then heading back to the stables and reading more. He had attempted to downplay its significance for the first few weeks, but eventually Leviathan and Raziel stopped asking him for help on their quest altogether and left him to his books. Lady Aerensa seemed diametrically opposed to the idea at first. But time wore away any lingering resentment, even without Bug making any significant attempts to befriend her. She started greeting him when he entered and bidding him a good night when he left. She seemed just as invested in whatever she was studying as he was. Though Bug didn’t pry. On the days Leviathan would join him, he would ask the Lady what she was up to and get nothing in response. It seemed she preferred Bug’s less abrasive presence. He didn’t show much in return for her kindness, though he did begin to transition from his old Skiran green clothes to more Ludenese brown ones, now looking less like an adventurer and more like a traveler. She seemed to appreciate it.
He was getting somewhere. He knew it. This whole time, he had been trying to find potions or cure-all solutions to his problem when he could’ve been reading about what his problem was instead. It was a reaction that happened in the children of one affected by the Sanguine Curse and elves. It wasn’t some freak fungal infection; it was hereditary. The beast that had haunted him his entire life began to uncover itself; its fur of necrosis and its claws of a slow-progressing tissue death. There were answers. There were solutions to his problems here; he could not believe he was ignorant enough to ignore what was right in front of him. There had been a library in Lurah, why didn’t he enter? Why not the one in Beliese? In Injrae? It simply never occurred to him that the Zinric curse was tangible, not a stalking creature but an ailment like any other. Something that, with time, they would find the cure to. five years The Librarian had said. People far smarter than him would make it. He had faith in that much.
In the meantime, as he held ‘Necrosis: Tissue Death in The Living’ to his chest and lay back down in the stables between his two companions, he felt genuine certainty that it would all be okay for the first time in his life.
To 100
Ascal Zinric, son of the lady Matral Zinric’a and Sorian Zinric’a, brother to Faren Zinric, ex-captain of the Charlemagne’s brigade, woke up with a hoof indenting his cheek and a feathered foot pressed to his side. Some kind of sand smeared his green tunic an unpleasant shade of tan. There was no book tucked into the crook of his arm.
He slowly pushed himself up, looking around for the book and letting Raziel’s leg slide down to his thigh rather than his face. Turning, he shook Leviathan awake. His companion mumbled something about ‘brisket’ and ‘television’ before blinking open his massive eyes.
“Bug? What is it? Did something happen?” His voice was rough, quietly sharp with concern.
“Did you change my shirt?” Bug leaned in close, grabbing him by the shoulders. He could smell the perfumed bodywash Leviathan insisted upon and tried not to turn his nose up at it.
“Did I… what? No! What the hell are you talking about?”
“I was wearing a brown tunic before, Lev. Now I am wearing a green one. Did you, for some indecipherable ‘Lev’ reason, change my shirt and steal my book before I awoke?” He made sure to enunciate each word fully, tightening his grip on Leviathan’s shoulders ever so slightly. For his part, the other man looked frightened and more than a little confused. Raziel made a chittering, hissing noise in his sleep, and Leviathan quickly slid from Bug’s grasp, slipping out the gate and forcing Bug to follow. He stopped and turned after they had made it to the halfway point between the stables and the estate. The grass swished in a frigid breeze around them. But hadn’t it been almost summer just yesterday?
Leviathan crossed his arms, only partly to fend off the cold. “So, what’s going on? What has you all razzled?”
“Yesterday I had a book with me recommended by Lady Aerensa from the Araneae's personal collection, and I was wearing a brown tunic. If neither you nor Raziel, and I know Raziel did not do this because he is nowhere near stealthy enough not to wake me, took my book and changed my tunic… Well, it means something has happened.” Bug’s voice remained level, but he made small gestures with his hands as he spoke, breaking decorum. He might as well have been screaming and jumping up and down.
Leviathan stared. Those massive, dinnerplate eyes bore directly through him.
“Ah, Bug?”
“Yes, Lev?”
“We haven’t been in the Areneae’s estate, like, at all. Especially not in any library. Nor have we met this ‘Lady Aerense’ unless you count her glaring at us from behind that guard captain a couple of days ago. Are you feeling alright? How many fingers am I holding up?”
A couple of days ago. Glaring at us from behind that guard captain a couple of days ago.
“Bug?”
They had arrived in this town over a month ago.
“Is that stab wound acting up? You’ve gone all pale.”
They had first seen the Lady over a month ago as well.
“By Brass and Nature.” He took two quick steps towards Leviathan. “What day is it?” Leviathan told him, and it clicked. He began moving towards the house at a pace that couldn’t be classified as a jog, but could be classified as ‘too fast for a near stranger to be approaching a noble’s home.’ Leviathan did his best to keep up. Bug nearly strode right into the building before a guard stepped forward, blocking their way. It was the same one they had asked for directions from that first day, but there was no recognition in her eye.
“An’ what might yew fellers be doin’ ere on sutch’a fine night?”
“Looking for the library.” Bug responded stiffly. The guard raised a brow, but told them. Third floor. She had barely finished the first word before Bug was inside, jogging up the thin stairs. Leviathan was hot on his trail, chattering concerned questions he didn’t want to answer. Frankly, because he didn’t know if he could answer them. They hit the open doors of the library. Lady Aerensa was staring up at the sound of heavy footsteps, a book limp against the loveseat she was perched upon.
“What is your business here, adventurers?” She looked more annoyed than anything, eyes narrow. Bug stopped on that plush, red carpet. Brain moving quickly through options. Leviathan said something, but he tuned it out.
It was a month before yesterday. Evidence? Old clothes, no book, lost memories from people, repeated phrases. He worried he was jumping to conclusions, time didn’t just change like that. It was linear, immobile, it was like saying day and night had swapped or the moon had grown a leg. Father had always told him to double check his answers before turning in work during his schooling. Maybe he was being tested. It was more of a Skiran custom to put soldiers in odd situations without their awareness and ask that they find a way out, but it wasn’t impossible. His brigade had once trashed their entire camp and said a monster had arrived in the night, it was only after Bug had led them halfway back to town at a rather impressive speed that they confessed to the lie.
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Somehow Leviathan had found his way onto the loveseat proper, in conversation with Aerensa as she sat on the arm. That was not something he would have seen yesterday. Yesterday she would be reading. Yesterday, she would be telling Leviathan he needed to go back to the stables to read, and that he wasn’t allowed to take books (mostly the simple, picture-filled ones) off of library premises so he would be forced to go home empty handed. Upon reflection, she seemed rather actively hostile towards the man. What had changed?
“...Usually very stable, I promise.” Leviathan was saying, gesticulating wildly with his hands.
“Yes, sorn, he seemed reasonably put together the other morning. Perhaps he has loose threading.”
Right. He had been standing there staring at them. He took a breath and relaxed into the formalities he was familiar with. Bowing, he spoke with only a slight tremor.
“My greetings to you Lady Aerensa.” He paused. Deep breath. “I was wondering if we could have words? I have some… Unusual questions to inquire of you.”
The first few weeks were the most difficult. This time around, Bug was the strange adventurer out of the lot. He’d ask what her favorite color was (he remembered mauve. He was right), where she most frequently dined outside of the estate (The Courtyard? The Courtyard.), if she had any pets (just her horse, who Bug had become quite acquainted with over his time sleeping in the stables.) All the while, she frowned at any mention of meeting Bug previously. This was, for all intents and purposes, the same woman from before, the start of the month, and the start of their conversations. When Leviathan asked what he was doing with all that time in the library, Bug explained that he was studying decay. Partly accurate, after the Lady started opening up a few weeks in, she shut down just as readily. He had gone back to studying, only seeing and subsequently interrogating her occasionally from then on. He explained that first day of panic as sleep deprivation and refused to deviate from his story. It would be best to wait, gather information, and decide where to go from there. He still didn’t know how far he could trust either of the mercenaries. It was a rotten profession. Granted, he was one too, but that was different.
He wasn’t even sure it was a time-reset to begin with; maybe he had been granted a vision of the future by one of the gods, maybe he was trapped in some kind of Aether weave he was unfamiliar with, or Aerenesa was right and he was experiencing a mental break.
By the third-first month he was positive it was a time reset, by the fourth, he could’ve sworn it was a godly vision, by the tenth it had to be aetherian in nature and by the fifteenth he would simply sit in the stable and explain politely that he couldn’t leave as he had lost his mind.
It was far too easy, falling into habit. It was like the psychological shock of what was happening slowly, impossibly slowly crept down and into his body one nerve ending at a time. He had been raised on habit. He had, in a sense, been raised on repetition.
Sit straight, eyes forward, bow when greeting someone, sword on your left hip never the right, be kind-no not like that-be less kind, a Zinric never curses to any god but his own, learn the harpsichord until your fingers blister, repeat your court greetings until the sun goes down, speak only when spoken too when in the presence of those of a higher standing, left right left right left, front guard, lunge, left point, sit straight, eyes forward, bow when greeting someone, sword on your left hip never the right, be kind-no not like that-be less kind, a Zinric never curses to any god but his own, learn the harpsichord until your fingers blister, repeat your court greetings until the sun goes down, speak only when spoken too when in the presence of those of a higher standing, left right left right left, front guard, lunge, left point. Left right left.
It was only natural. Each time, he’d wake up, startling Lev, walking to the library, reading himself sick, going back to bed, and waking up at the start to do it all over again. It took about two loops, but Bug figured out how to help Leviathan and Raziel complete that quest they had been in town for in the first place. He started adding that to the routine, it all mushed together. People would question him on how he knew where things were or where they were going to be but he waved them off. Time became a thick sludge he had to wade through patiently; he placed himself in the loop just as surely as anyone else. The only exceptions were, of course, the loops he’d spend on the wall.
The town wall was massive, made of rough, pale limestone and fully available to the public. Some loops, he would climb the wall and stare off the edge. He’d feel the rough texture of it under his hands and watch wheatgrass sway just over the side. He only ever jumped once. That had been his worst month; the cracking squish of his one remaining leg against soft dirt rang in his ears for the next five.
He had tried to run, at first. He tried traveling far away, yet something always went wrong. Every carriage head in the area suffered a massive stroke, every carriage had broken wheels, and every trip abroad suddenly cost more gold than the entire country of Skira had as a whole. His letters were snapped up by birds, his legs suddenly like lead when he set foot outside the city walls. The Niberious, large jellyfish-like creatures, made for traveling long distances, all shriveled and refused to work. No matter what he did, Bug was stuck in this town, in this month, forever.
In his second year, repeating the exact same events ad infinitum, one loop after finishing the entire library and absorbing around 20% of that knowledge, Bug snapped out of it. Something about placing that last book on the last spot of the last shelf sickened him. He didn’t want to do this forever. He was creating his own purgatory without ever conceiving the idea he could leave it.
He had rehearsed what he would say 13,900 times in his head, and another 9,000 out loud. He went to bed and dreamt of it, woke up half-mumbling the words to himself. He was going to do something. To break the cycle.
“I have repeated this month twenty-four times. I understand this sounds impossible, but I am positive I can pass any tests you might have for me. I do not know why this started, nor what it is or how to end it. All I know is when it starts, when it ends, and what everyone around me does in the interim. Can you help me?”
They were standing as they had been when Leviathan first told him that it was the first of the month. It was cool out as it always was at the start, the few well-trimmed trees around them swished gently, massive leaves drifting to blot out clouds. Lev nodded curtly, jauntily walking away from Bug and towards the estate.
“Okay, let’s get cracking then. I can’t say I know much about time-stuff but I’ll do my best to ask around. I bet one of these noble-fucks knows something. That’s usually how it goes isn’t it? Come on, hurry up, and here I thought you were the soldier.” Bug stared at him.
“Just… Like that?” He managed, easily matching pace even as his brain struggled to pull itself out from under the haze it had been in. Leviathan looked at Bug with concern, in a way he hadn’t upon the realization they were stuck in a time loop.
“...Obviously? If you’ve been here for that long, you must’ve asked before. I’m not going to be one of those guys who says-” Leviathan pitched his voice up, “-Oh my! You’ve finally lost it! Fake! Liar! Lunatic!’ And slows everything down and whatnot. What I don’t get is why you’re acting like this is something novel. Maybe it’s a hint, like this time Lev is going to just go with it and that means you need to eat the time fruit to solve the puzzle or something. You know? Vintreth is weird.”
“Ah, Lev?” They were rounding on the wrought iron gate where Klaasei, the guard, stood post.
“Yes Bug?” He reached to fling the gate open and walk through, a determined spring in his step.
“I… Have never enlisted your help with this.” Leviathan paused, hand sliding off the cool metal. He turned. He stared. Dinnerplate eyes. Boring.
“Didn’t you say you’ve been here for, like, years?”
“Yes.”
“And you never asked me for help once?”
“Not once, no.”
Leviathan’s face did something then. Bug had never witnessed a face do any of the sorts of things his was. It went on a journey. Like crumpled parchment, thrown into a lake then pulled out again and flattened to the point it could be considered legible but was mostly smeared ink. Leviathan finally put his hands up in supplication, took a step back.
“Listen,” He began mournfully, “If any other versions of me betrayed you I’d like to solemnly apologize. I would never poison, stab, steal from, cheat, nor lie to any Bug in this temporal universe I pinky promise. Clearly, I’ve done something to earn back your trust for you to confide in me like this and I’d like to say I appreciate it greatly. I will-and by I, I mean the current me speaking now in this month-will not do anything to harm you in any way so help me god…s” He took a breath, Bug was near certain he was about to continue.
“I… never asked Raziel for assistance either.”
“You what?” The look he threw at Bug was somewhere in the ballpark of astonished disbelief.
“In fact, you are the first person I have told this information to. Rather than betray me, you have shown yourself a worthy confidant.” That was partly the case; the other part was that he knew Raziel less. And from what he did know the man was just as likely to get them both killed as he was to help anyone. Bug could feel his brain dusting itself off and standing.
Leviathan dropped his hands, blinking owlishly. He stepped forward, “Bug, do you want to get out of this?”
Bug stared at him like he had grown a second head. “Of course.”
“Then why haven’t you tried?”
How to explain it, the lethargy of being so entirely stuck. Immobile in every sense but physical. Not even allowed to leave the town of a country he had no business being in. He just shook his head, breathing out, “I do not know.”
Leviathan didn’t get it, Bug couldn’t blame him. Bug didn’t get it either. But Leviathan was good people, so he just nodded and went back towards the estate. They found the ‘Aether and Time’ section, and got to work.
Leviathan and Bug became the leading experts on how someone might conceivably disrupt time. There were not a lot of ways, theoretical or otherwise. The madness of a Conductor so severe that they genuinely, wholeheartedly believed they could warp time could theoretically weave a weak spell reflecting that belief. The aether was in large part based on faith, after all. There was an issue in that, of course. Bug was not mad. One could argue he had grown to meet the definition with time, but on the first of the month, he had been as in his right mind as the day before. Leviathan could testify to that, as could any of the numerous people they had met in their travels. Bug was stoic, kind, a bit ignorant maybe, but never unthreaded.
Another solution presented was that of Mana. The aether of the Gods, so to speak. It had been suffocated, taken over by the magic of modern day but there were supposed remnants. Rare, ever so rare. The mana of the Allfather, god of Time and creator of the world, could certainly do the trick in causing a time-loop of this magnitude. The chances were somewhere between not possible and impossible, but the chances of time changing itself were also around that level. The way to stop the effects of mana? Suffocate it, of course. Have personal aether strings so deliciously unique and complex, changed and reinforced, that the mana is choked out once again as it had been all those years ago. Personal aether strings were strengthened by experience, by life. Lev called it a ‘soul.’ The breath of a person’s existence. There was an issue in that, of course. Bug was unable to ‘experience,’ ‘reinforce,’ or ‘grow.’ He was stagnant by every definition, by every concept of the word. This theory was always the one he made Lev read about. It made him feel a bit ill. Lev suggested he should rob a store or donate to charity, something big and lively. But all that would do is cause new strings to form, not reinforce already existing ones. They would simply have to look for more solutions. More theories. They had all the time in the world.
For some reason, a rock of guilt wormed its way into Bug’s stomach. It grew through loops twenty three and twenty four, near loop thirty he was nearly bursting with it. Nine months of finding Lev, telling him what was going on and what they had uncovered so far, and going back to researching. Sometimes it was Bug rereading old books on his illness just to try and cement them further in his memories, others it was the two of them discussing what could possibly be happening within the loop, and others still were spent interrogating the Lady Aerensa exhaustively until she put out a total ban on their coming to the library. So they found another one and started all over again. In every timeline she categorically refused to know anything about a time loop, let alone having anything to do with it. No matter how they poked, prodded, or pleaded ,she was steadfast, not wavering in her innocence a single time.
It had been nine months, and yet.
