It was clear that the vision I saw was real. It had truly happened. So why did it rewrite itself as a vision?
[Nicholas was perplexed, yet he couldn't afford to wait. He had already sent out a mental notice to all fronts.]
It's entirely possible I'll see another vision. If that happens, will I be able to rewrite it?
No, I can't take that chance. However, combining all the futures of this world and all others would be risky.
It's just not something I could do. Because if this future is the worst one, then it cannot be changed.
I could no longer wait for something to occur. I would need to manipulate the future.
The way Set Time works is vastly different from regular time as a whole.
Composite Time is how I'm able to describe seconds without seconds.
However, Set Time in comparison to regular time makes each second seem like it never happened but always had.
It's why looking into the future of Set Time more or less confirms that future across all possible, impossible, logical, or illogical worlds.
I could see all the futures of regular time, but with Set Time, gazing into the future was as potent as shaping it.
The events of this world were written into the fabric of reality itself.
[What Nicholas was so brazenly claiming to understand was a narrative, or rather, the Narrative.]
My head instantly throbbed, and I fell back. Mirabel caught me and set me down on the bed, her expression filled with worry.
"Nope," I said weakly. "Say nothing. I can feel it all. So I'll take care of the kids."
I was worried about Purtunah summoning her, but I decided it was unlikely.
She quickly left me alone to my thoughts, which now carried terrible accusations.
[Set Time was merely a weak extension of the Narrative, and a strong extension of the Sea of Time.]
The Narrative must be a realm above the Sea of Time. In that case, it would fully encompass all time. That isn't true for many realms, not many at all.
[The Narrative was a novel, one in which each page viewed the other as an infinitesimal absence, so fragile and weak it was nonexistent.]
The voice was telling me about this place… but why?
[It was because he, or you, needed to know. It was simply fate.]
I held my hand to my head, rubbing slowly. "If I'm making sense of this, I'm part of this grand novel, aren't I?"
[Nicholas spoke into the world as if pondering. What a philosophical person.]
I see now. It seems that everything is part of this novel, including the voice itself, in such a way that it cannot make claims beyond its reason.
[Nicholas was an insulting person.]
In that case, this voice isn't some helper personal to me, it must be the system that governs the story?
[Nicholas was wrong. Nothing governed the novel beyond itself. It was simply a byproduct of necessity.]
I began to think of all the possible meanings behind that when Mirabel returned.
I hadn't noticed, but time had passed, something that should have been impossible.
Thinking about the Narrative made my thoughts move differently.
It seems it was a potent place, not so as grand as Heaven, merely a place in which I might extend my reach.
"You okay, my love?" she asked, walking over.
I erased the thoughts from my mind. "Yeah, I'm fine. Are they asleep?"
She sat beside me and sighed, stretching her arms. "Yeah. Now it's time for us to sleep, because tomorrow, it's war."
I knew that all too well. "I'll go to the meeting with the council alone. You should stay with them."
Her eyes widened as if I had just blessed her. "Thank you, my love!"
After she said this, she smiled and adjusted herself beside me, her presence calming rather than distracting.
"You really hate them that much?" I said, studying her expression carefully.
She nodded, a sly smile curving her lips. "Yes, of course. I mean, they really are terribly annoying. The 'Council of Order,' they say."
I reached out and lifted her chin to face me. "You're honestly the best."
She smiled knowingly, and I could see her confidence matching my own.
"Really? Well then, let's focus on what must be done."
***
[Capital of Dangu: Stella Mora]
The room smelled of dark, damp roses, a sweetness laced with something faintly rotten.
Pink carpets muffled every movement, and the massive table at the center trembled beneath the weight of our deliberation.
As I considered the events ahead, I thought back to the first time I had met Noctis.
This man, this blade-for-hire, had been more than a passing curiosity.
He was a looker, yes, but not just handsome.
There was something old and coiled beneath his exterior, strength, the kind one earns through wandering bloodied roads.
Not stronger than me, not even close, but strong enough to boast. Noctis, the roaming swordsman.
His pale-blue hair, tied in a loose bun, fell forward as he listened intently, his expression a mixture of amusement and focus.
I recalled his presence during past battles, his unwavering skill, and his loyalty tempered by caution.
He was clinging to me, doing as I pleased with grace that I enjoyed far to much.
"There should be a war starting right about now," I murmured. "Should we prepare?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You could have decided that without me. Was it not to your liking?"
I touched a finger to my lips, smiling slyly. "On the contrary. I was holding back quite a lot."
With a flick of my fingers, documents and maps appeared on the table near my bed.
I released him, and he stood and sat beside me.
"Alright, fine," he said, exhaling through his nose. "What do you want me to do?"
I chuckled softly. "Perfect. I plan on taking Fertical. With Uhana as the sole ruler, this is the perfect time."
He froze, the flicker of surprise flashing across his face. "My home country? Horia will take up his sword, you know."
I gave him a knowing look and then laughed, a deep, low sound. "Oh, I've met him. In the past he might have been stronger than me."
Noctis tilted his head, amused, but his eyes darkened. "Now? Do you think I could beat him with my Inheritance?"
I reached out and traced a finger along his jaw.
"My little moon, don't fret. Even if you can't, all it will take is a single word from me, and that man will falter."
Some might call me insane. It hasn't been long since the last terrible war ended, but a new world requires rupture. And I am its rupture.
I am the best. I am the smartest. I am the most beautiful. That makes me its salvation.
All I really need is a reason. I can think of a million. But I'll start with the death of Madikai.
Noctis's blue eyes flickered like a blade's edge. He took my hand and kissed it. "So when do I reveal he was your cousin?"
I actually had to think. It was a truly difficult decision, and I meant truly difficult.
"The moment the first blood spills on the soil of the dark north, you may speak to the world and ignite the war with Fertical."
There may be many powerful people in this world, Mirabel, Arthur, Ruari, Merlin.
But none compare to me. Not even that deity, that slimy and narcissistic bastard Midir.
And he's my next target. After I rise to the final wall and pierce mortality, I'll slaughter him.
I looked up at Noctis. He understood perfectly, though his eyes flicked with something else, wariness, maybe, or hunger.
I leaned back, letting my mind focus solely on strategy, the battle ahead, and the unfolding of the Narrative itself.
And as I did, I cursed the moment, ensuring that nothing could disobey my will. The repercussion? Final. Unforgiving.
The simplest things are often the deadliest.
"Noctis," I said calmly, my voice settling over him like iron.
"When you do it, be sure to say it was out of necessity I declared this war. Offer them a chance at peace as well."
He nodded, understanding perfectly. My orders were absolute.
I leaned back on both arms, letting my hair spill down my back like a curtain of shadow. "Alright," I whispered. "We can continue now."
His eyes narrowed in acknowledgment. "You devilish girl."
I smirked, a faint hint of fang showing. "I am part demon. It's only natural I share some dark traits…"