Torat frowned, unsure of how to handle this level of fear.

"I don't understand," he said in response to the master. "There is always a future."

The master of the Order released Torat and let his hands droop lazily to his side. He took a very deep and long breath, then let it out.

He put on a sudden smile. Torat could see the way it frayed at the edges of his lips like a poorly sewn cloth.

That bad, he thought. This was the first time the being in front of him had ever failed to execute the perfect smile.

In fact, the smile looked kind of manic, dancing on the precipice of madness. After a while, the master shook his head, turning away from Torat.

Wishing to help, Torat spoke.

"If the major timeline is gone, perhaps a branching timeline has replaced it," he offered. He had listened to enough of the master's ramblings to have an idea of how to stagger his way through a time conversation with nothing but words and no idea what he was talking about.

Back turned to him, the master waved his idea away with a gesture. "That's the purview of time. I see the future not because I look at it through time, Tarot. I see it because I look at fate. And fate is ever branching." He paused, moved to turn around but didn't. "Fate works in an interesting way that some—who do not know better—would argue is not as good as time."

Now, he turned around.

"For instance, I can look into your future because I am looking into your fate." He folded his arms over his chest like a petulant child. "However, if I look into the future using time, it is more chaotic and requires far more mastery. For example, no one person possesses their own time. I can't look into your future by looking into your forward time because you don't own time."

Torat fought the urge to roll his eyes at how quickly the master had gone from terrified super being to rambling on about fate and time as if they had all the time when he'd just said that the future did not exist.

"Since you don't have your own time," the master was saying, "that means that I have to look into time and look for where in time. I cannot look into your future through time, however, I can look into the future of what happens in this location at this time, and if you are not in this location at this time, I will have to find where you are to see what has happened to you."

"So time and fate look into the future in different ways," Torat said, to confirm that he was following.

The master nodded. "Fate is better at it, but I will be willing to be the bigger person and admit that those who use time and use it accurately have slightly—and I cannot overemphasize how much slightly it is—brain power. It's so slight that it is completely inconsequential."

Torat raised a brow. "The bigger person between you and who?"

The master paused, as if just realizing what he had said. "Oh, suck it."

"So, when you say that there is no future," Torat said. "You mean that…"

"I mean that there is no fate in the future." the master worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "And fate can only exist when living beings exist."

"Which means that living beings don't have a future?"

"Yes." The master paused. Suddenly, he turned and snapped his finger in epiphany. "That is where the problem is. There is no future, but there is time. There has to be. It would be stupid to assume that there is no time. Even the greater gods can't snuff out time… I hope."

With that, he turned and stomped all the way to his desk. Torat wondered why he was walking as if he was avoiding a mess of scattered books and parchments on the floor but didn't bother to ask.

He had a feeling that the answer would only make him look stupid for asking.

When the master got to his desk, he pulled out a piece of paper as if from nowhere. For all his perception, Torat had not seen where it had come from.

He held it up as if it was an important thing—a sacred thing.

He looked at Torat, smiled, and said, "Keep watch, would you?"

Before Torat could say anything, the paper burst into blue-black flames and the master sat down on the ground.

Torat frowned at the color. There was only one kind of mana with that specific color. Just how many secrets did the master of the Order keep from the Order he led?

The master of the Order cocked an annoyed brow staring at nothing.

"Oh don't be a pretentious arse," he said. "I've read that specific parchment ten times over and no, you cannot get any answers you do not already have from it."

A sigh suddenly filled the room. It forced Torat to turn around, looking for its source.

"Why are you here, master of the Order?" a deep old voice said, as if talking to a particularly annoying child.

"Can't I come check on an old friend?" The master smiled cheerfully. "Also, you should know that we are not alone."

Torat turned again, looking for the source of the voice. He was just about giving up when the master pointed off into the corner.

When he turned, he found an old man seated at a well organized table. In front of him was a parchment.

The man was translucent and looked at Torat with translucent eyes.

"I see the dragon property still lives," the man said dismissively, as if talking about a colleague's pet.

I guess we are nothing but insignificant to them, Torat surmised.

The old man returned his gaze to the master. "If this is about your intentionally failed attempt to kill the king, I am not ready to negotiate."

The master sighed. "You do understand that by the rules there is a time limit before you are forced to negotiate or I am forced to end his lineage by any means necessary."

The old man paused in his reading of the parchment in front of him and raised a brow. "I live within these castle walls, old friend. Do not presume to threaten me with your Order. They do not possess the fire power to stop me."

"But I do." The master waved at him with one hand.

The old man snorted. "We all know that you are not just in your house because you don't like coming out. You are there because the gods would fleece you should you come out."

The master jovial demeanor did not change as his smile stretched a little too wide. "Wanna bet?"

"I would say that…" the old man trailed off, brows furrowing. "What have you done?"

"Nothing. But enough of the small talk, down to business so that I can leave you to go think about what you would offer in exchange for that man's life. And no, I will not take anything regarding the last human dragon-rider alive."

Torat did his best to hide his discomfort. Dragons had dragon-riders because they deemed them lovable and important. A dragon-rider did not make a dragon stronger, however. In fact, they added nothing to a dragon whereas a dragon added almost everything to them. A dragon rider was more of a favored child or friend to a dragon. In his life before the Order, he had grown to see dragon riders and favor them too.

It was difficult being present in a conversation where they were spoken about like things.

The old man sighed at the master's statement. "How I hate these conversations." He placed his forearms on the desk and looked at the master. "You have never contacted me, not even during the rise of the last [Demon King]. So, I believe it is fair to assume that you have called me for another reason. Is this regarding the name I gave you?"

"Who? Aiden Lacheart?" the master snorted. "Gods no. I wouldn't give you that piece of information even if you offered your head. This is for something far more pressing."

"The fragment of Nastild that was just claimed?" the old man asked dismissively. "I have already put things into motion to ensure that I have the answer before the day is up. However, I will be willing to pay for that piece of information if you are willing to part with it."

"Quite an interesting turn of event," the master mused. "A leviathan heart for Torat."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Torat reeled back, as if physically struck. The leviathans were a limited species on Nastild. Granted, some of them had more than one heart but that price for a piece of information was outrageous.

The old man thought about it for a while. "Alright," he agreed. "The Brandis boy is primed to go another round with one, I'll have him procure one of its heart if he is victorious."

"Doesn't he mean to kill it?" the master asked in good nature. "Also, isn't that a halfling? You know that the heart of a halfling is…"

"The heart of a halfling should be more than enough," the old man interrupted. "We are not pointless mortals to haggle pointlessly. The heart of a halfling for your…" he stopped himself when the master's expression grew a little less soft than it was. "The heart of a halfling for the information. Deal?"

The master shrugged. "Deal."

"Who has the fragment of Nastild?"

"Aiden Lacheart."

The old man opened his mouth, then closed it almost immediately. "It would make sense on account of the arm. I thought it a fluke of an anomaly." He grew thoughtful. "But if he has learnt to channel it and survive it and master it… Perhaps I should not have let him free of the castle."

"Then why did you?"

"Because he was clearly not a candidate for the title of [Demon King]," the old man said dismissively. "Confining him to the castle would've served no purpose. But with this achievement, perhaps I should find him."

The master of the Order burst into a bout of laughter so loud and sudden that he looked madder than usual for a moment.

"Stay away from the child, old friend," he said flatly, his laughter disappearing as if it had never happened. "There are rules. He has a fragment. As such, you are not allowed to interfere negatively in his life. You are to let his fate take whatever it deems a natural course."

"A course only you can figure out." The old man shook his head. "The rules continue to seem skewed in your favor."

"Even if they are, I would argue that the price is worth it, wouldn't you?"

The old man paused, thought about it. "Perhaps. The ire of the greater gods remains something I would rather not have. Agreed. Perhaps I will simply send something along to aid in his growth."

Torat could see other ideas running through the old man's eyes. Aid was not the only thing Aiden Lacheart would be getting from the old man. Perhaps the Order should send someone to him as well.

"Now that we are done with trivial things, I actually contacted you for a far more important matter," the master said.

The old man sighed. "Why?"

"When last did you check the time?"

For someone who had been panicking about the absence of a future just a moment ago, the master was having his fun. Had he figured out something that had let him to contacting the [Sage]? Was that why he was calm now?

"I should end this conversation before you ask any more stupid ques…" the old man's voice died out, and Torat watched the exact same expression of dread the master had possessed not too long ago cross the old man's face.

Eyes wide in terror, they darted around in their sockets for a moment. His jaw dropped and his eyes focused on the master as he shot up from his seat.

"What does my fate say?" he blurted out suddenly.

The master shrugged. "You know that I can't look into the fates of a [Sage] without express permission. It is—"

"I grant you permission to view my fate!"

The old man's words reverberated in Torat's heart and he staggered from the weight of it, dropping to one knee. Beads of sweat gathered above his brow and he started hyperventilating.

"Breathe, Tarot," the master said casually from where he sat. "Just breathe through it." To the old man, he said, "that was rude of you."

"We have more important things than that," the old man snapped. "Now, look!"

Torat was finally beginning to catch his breath when the master sighed.

"Fine," the master said.

There was a brief moment of silence during which Torat rose to his feet.

"What did you see?" the old man asked.

"The same thing," the master answered. "I saw nothing. You have no fate, not anymore."

Rubbing his hand through his hair, the old man walked out from behind his chair. "This is impossible."

"Impossible how?"

The man looked the master in the eye from across the distance.

"There isn't just no future," the man answered. "There is no time. It's gone."

"Gone?"

"Time is dead."

A chill ran up Torat's spine.

Torat stepped forward, defiant because he knew the master of the Order would protect him and he just wanted to be petty for the old man forcing him to his knees.

"If it is time magic, then perhaps someone has turned back time."

The master shook his head. "Not it. the only person with such mastery over time to affect time in a way that turns it back with effects spanning the entire time structure of Nastild is right here with us."

"And even if I do that, time does not die," the old man said. "It branches and restructures. The time reversed dies like a rotting branch on a tree."

"In this case, the tree is dead. Gone." The master of the Order pressed his lips into a thin line. "Unless someone somehow finds a solution to this and heals the tree before it dies, we are all doomed."

"Besides, if time has been reversed, we will all have the memory of the time reversed," the old man pointed out. "We will possess it no matter what."

"Stop lecturing the kid," the master said. "We need to inform the others. What I need to know is how long we have, old friend. How much time does time have left to live?"

"Two days," the [Sage] said flatly. "In two days everything will cease to be."

The master of the Order got up from the ground.

"Then we better get working."

…

It was evening when they finally allowed the jepats fall into a steady walking pace. Anybody with eyes could see that the jepats were exhausted but Aiden had no intentions of letting the creatures rest.

For all his composure, his heart beat heavy in his chest for different reasons. One of these reasons was the fact that Jang Su had implied that the [Sage] had known of the crystal. If his [Sage] had known of the crystal, then it was easy to assume that all the [Sage]s knew of the crystal. Which meant he had drawn the attention of the [Sage]s, after all, the question of how he knew of the crystal when he was not supposed to would go through their minds.

Since coming to Nastild, he hadn't really been bothered about how people would react to his odd behaviors. Why? Because nobody would think time magic, not even the [Sage]s from the little he knew.

With this, however, it was possible that they would think in that direction. Maybe they would first have a bit of an argument over which [Sage] was helping him.

Do the [Sage]s talk with each other? He wondered.

They had to. Limited as they were and standing at the top of the hierarchy, it would be ludicrous if they did not communicate with each other… right?

"The jepats need rest," a voice said to his side.

Aiden turned to it, finding Elami watching him warily. Valdan remained in the man's arms.

"They need to rest," he repeated. "You need to rest."

Aiden wondered if his worry showed on his face. It was funny that the [Sage]s were even the least of his worries. His major worry existed in when the mercenaries woke up. It was only a matter of time before kings would learn of the crystal. If Dreg and whatever members of his team that survived didn't immediately sell him out, then they would be found and questioned.

There was also Drax and his group. There was no way someone would not say something that would inform Brandis of exactly what Aiden had gained in the cave. He continued to wonder why Brandis had sent them there, though.

What else had changed in the timeline? He didn't remember ever heading to the cave or the catacombs in his past life.

Just how bad is the mess I've made.

The biggest problem he was faced with now was the fact that he could not absorb the crystal. There was also the itch in his blackened arm—one he'd had since receiving the [Fragment of Nastild].

He had too much on his mind.

"The [Healer] is right," Feira said, her jepat pulling up beside him. She spoke with a soft voice, a friendly voice. "You are frayed all over, skittish."

Aiden shook his head. "I'm fine."

"You even lie poorly," she said. "If I had a mirror, I would show you."

Aiden felt skittish.

He looked around, contemplating the idea of rest.

They had since left the desert behind and turned off the roads. As was safest from human eyes, he was leading them through the forests, following the wind of the skill [Pathfinder] as it adjusted its direction each time he moved off course.

The trees allowed the sunlight peak through. The air was warm.

Two days, Aiden thought.

They'd been riding for two days. But they'd not been riding hard. He knew jepats well enough to know how to get the best out of them without killing them. He would've preferred it if he had some spells and enchantments to push the creatures above and beyond as he had done on his trip from Bandiv to the town of cannibals.

But he did not.

More importantly, it had been two days since Elami had started healing Valdan, and Valdan was yet to open his eyes or even stir from his unconsciousness.

As if reading the look in his eyes, Elami said, "He's fine. He's healing properly. Fear not."

"How long?" Aiden asked. "Do you know?"

"A few days," Elami answered. "Four at the most."

A week of healing, Aiden thought. It was already a miracle that Valdan could be healed. He had already come to the decision of giving up the [Crystal of Existence] and finding something else to bargain with the [Enemy of the Order].

The question was why Elami had waited so long to point out that he could heal Valdan after claiming that he could not.

The answer came to Aiden in bits and pieces, things that had meant nothing once but meant a lot now. The party that had ambushed them in the cave that he had slain. Elami had checked up on the last one, the man who had been dying not dead. Aiden remembered him saying something about how it was not enough.

He hadn't cared then. Now, however, his mind went to Taeli's body. She had been lying dead at Elami's feet when he'd retrieved the [Crystal of Existence].

The question already had an answer in his mind, but he wanted to confirm it. He knew of no skill in the arsenal of the [Healer] class that sucked the life out of someone to heal another. The closest to such a thing was a [Healer] sacrificing their own life force to heal another person. And the skill was rare, only gained as nothing short of a manifesting skill.

Too many questions. And he could not afford to ask about the healing lest those around be repulsed by it. Elami did not strike him as the kind of man to help from the kindness of his heart. After all, there was still the case of him being a member of the group.

Aiden pushed everything to the back of his mind, choosing to focus on what he could handle more effectively.

It was time to send Oncot on his way. He had been thinking about it for a while and had come to a decision on the matter during their ride. Oncot followed him for the promise of violence and blood. Oncot would leave if he promised the man violence and blood.

"Oncot," he said, watching a bird zip from one tree branch to the next. It had rainbow colored feathers.

Oncot grunted, pulling his jepat up next to Aiden's.

Aiden could not help but look down at the jepat. For the entirety of their ride, Oncot had been at the back, dead last. Right now, his jepat looked as if it would rather die than continue.

He couldn't blame the poor thing.

"I have a task for you," he began telling Oncot. "A path you will—"

"That's a pretty bird," Ted muttered.

Aiden's head snapped in the direction of the tree the rainbow-colored bird had flown to. He did not find it there.

Then the bird zipped through the air to land on the tree.

Hands tightening on the reins of his jepat, Aiden froze.

Ted was the first to react to him, forcing his jepat to a stop. Only then did Aiden realize that his jepat had reacted to him and stopped moving.

For all that was happening, he could not pay attention to anything but the rainbow-colored bird staring right at him.

This can't be, he thought in dread. It can't be happening.

"Aida?" Ted asked, worried. "What's wrong?"

No, no, no, no, no.

Aiden refused to believe it. Life could not be this cruel to him.

"Aida!" Ted snapped sharply, demanding Aiden's attention.

Aiden looked at him, his attention moving very slowly.

"What's wrong?" Ted asked. Everyone had stopped now, gathering around. "What's happening?"

Aiden stared into his brother's eyes, dreading the very answer that he knew he had to give. The words rested in his mouth and petrified his soul. Still, he said them. He spoke the words that he hadn't thought he would have to say to Ted today.

"Déjà vu."

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