How is that possible?!
If my hunch about this place is right, we're literally stuck in the weave of a divine spell.
Though again, I did manage to somehow break free… and Lumos is from the First River.
"Do you have an affinity to the God of Memories and Time?" Elion asked.
The sorcerer nodded slowly.
The god's followers are affected to a lesser degree by his spell…
That was the only explanation that made sense, but it didn't explain how Elion had broken free himself. He didn't bear any ties to divinity after all.
He looked again at his forearm, but the line about affinities was still blank. His eyes flickered to the runes that resembled the Pale Witch's work. They were supposed to be an enchantment, after all…
Maybe? No. I don't have enough proof to tie this to the phenomenon. I never saw them activate anyway.
No, the 'how' wasn't important right now. What mattered was the possibilities it opened. Being able to send messages through loops was bound to change Elion's situation considerably.
"So you can literally send messages through time?" the young cook asked.
"That's the idea…"
His eyes lit up with something uncomfortably close to hope.
Man, if he'd kept the beard, he would literally have been Santa Claus.
"I'm going to call you Dad Lumos from now on," Elion said, smiling.
"Come on! I'm not that old," the sorcerer said, faking outrage.
The young cook chuckled.
"Well, now that we've got something to work with, we've got to make a plan," Elion said. "And here I thought I'd be enjoying a chill vacation on a mountain for a couple of days before going back to dying again. Though I still might do the dying…"
"Why? You don't have to anymore. We can figure something out together." The sorcerer raised an eyebrow.
"Ah well… I'm quite the spiteful bastard, you see. I can't just let the High Lord roam free, not after I've given her a good thrashing."
Lumos studied his face.
"You're not gonna budge on that stance, are you?"
"Nope."
He sighed.
"All right then…"
After that, they devised a plan for future loops. Lumos had to sacrifice many of the enchantments permeating his body to make space for instructions to his future self.
They decided that Elion would continue his death runs, while the sorcerer would guide the others through the wilderness to try and discover more about the place. The young cook would just have to tell him to look at the runes for him to understand and catch the others up to speed.
Elion would still take care of Joart, leaving Lumos to do the explaining to the sharp bastard's group.
Three days passed. They hadn't left the mountain, and nothing had come to kill them.
They were now close to the end of the loop. The sun was hanging dangerously low, its rays casting a beautiful orange glow, bathing the slope where they were perched in vibrant light.
Elion sat farther from the group, looking at the horizon with a wistful expression.
Things were finally looking up.
Farha approached him. She sat beside him and gazed toward the burning horizon as well.
After a moment of silence, where neither dared speak, she broke the stillness; now that she could.
"Beautiful," she said simply.
She had to relearn how to think, since the amulet spoke aloud everything she consciously voiced in her head. She was getting the hang of it, though sometimes parasitic thoughts bled through.
Elion realized that she was a lot different than he had first assumed. The way she thought wasn't as cold and calculating as he'd guessed. He didn't really know what to make of it.
"Even after having seen it a couple of times, the sunset remains quite the spectacle," he mused.
After another moment of silence, she asked:
"You're really going to fight her again?" Her voice carried a hint of concern.
"Well, yeah. I think I figured out how to survive when she turns the world silent." He missed the point of her concern.
"I know you'll be able to beat her at some point…" Farha said. "But is it really worth it?"
"Is it worth it?" Elion scoffed. "Of course not, but I can't just give up now. Not after all I've tried."
He slumped back on the rock, hands behind his head, staring at the orange sky.
"Whatever I say won't change what you think, I know that much. But please… please take care of yourself," Farha said.
"This conversation is quite similar to an earlier loop… though back then you couldn't talk," he said with a wistful expression. "You made me promise not to kill myself."
She raised an eyebrow.
"And did you keep it?"
"Of course I did. Who do you take me for, princess?"
"Why do you call me that?"
"Oh, right. Sorry. You did ask me to avoid calling you that as well…"
"Did you—"
"Yes I did, Farha of Uru," Elion cut her off. "You weren't exactly subtle with it either."
She stared at him, her crimson eyes locked onto his. The silence stretched. Then she giggled, though her expression remained somber.
"This time loop really has changed you a lot," she said. "Just be sure not to lose yourself, all right?"
Elion's smile faded slowly.
I changed…
He averted his gaze from hers, staring at the horizon with an unreadable expression.
After a long silence, he sighed.
"It's coming to an end, and we'll get front-row seats to it."
To the left, the horizon darkened. What Elion saw made him shiver. A massive flying vessel broke through the clearing, hovering over the forest like a floating island.
Futuristic vehicles dropped into the forest below, piloted by human soldiers wielding unknown rifles.
The ship's cannon roared—launching massive energy blasts into the meadow, destroying everything.
What are they trying to hit?
At one point, humanoid figures emerged seemingly out of nowhere. They wielded swords and spears and were waiting for the army to reach them. There weren't only humanoid creatures in their ranks. Massive wolf-like monsters appeared from the shroud.
They looked like Creatures from the Depths.
The two armies clashed. Then, the blue plasma filled the sky once more.
Farha stared at it with a deadpan expression.
She turned to face him.
"Elion…" she said softly. "I think you look cooler with white hair."
Wha— why?
The young cook stared at her, confused.
"Why the hell would you tell me that no—"
And he was back at the beginning.
His head snapped to where Farha usually stood.
Why would she tell me that?!
Elion shook his head.
No, right now's not the time.
"Lumos," he called. "Look at the runes on your ribs."
The sorcerer frowned.
"Why would—"
"Just do it."
Elion took a step forward.
"I'll be off then. Joart, you're with me."
Before the pretend noble could argue, the young cook grabbed his wrist and dragged him along.
"Eli, what's happening?" Eshrod asked, confused.
Elion didn't turn back. He simply waved his hand.
"Lumos will explain."
Like that, he headed for the High Lord—after taking care of the Joart problem.
"Hello, Miss Shadow. Hope you didn't miss me," he exclaimed, sidestepping the first strike.
"I've had quite the interesting vacation, I'll have you know," he continued, rolling backward to avoid a blade to the neck.
"As it turns out, I think Farha does like me a little bit. Really, why would she have said that otherwise?"
After a few more idiotic moves, the world turned dark again.
"Ooooh, darkness. How edgy," Elion mocked. "I think I got it now. This is really an insidious power you've got here, Miss Shadow."
He continued his little dance, avoiding the unseen strikes like he usually did.
"Look at that!" Elion jumped and flipped backward. "Backflip. I'm really proud of this one. It's cool, isn't it?"
As always, there was no answer.
"Tough crowd."
Silence finally pressed down on him. An indescribable, primal fear gripped his heart.
All right, let's see if this works.
He raised both hands, dropped his sword, and said:
"Torak ven'dur." His accent was off, but it was enough to understand.
He had asked Kellta how to say "I give up" in the language of the Dwellers of the Depths.
He hoped it might at least delay his death long enough to analyze the situation for his next loop.
The shadows clouding the surroundings disappeared, revealing the High Lord. She stood directly in front of him, her mask nearly touching his face, her sword pressed against his neck.
"Vak toren?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Ah… my bad, I didn't learn enough to hold a conversation."
Elion braced for death.
Instead, he got headbutted—and knocked out cold.
What the hell?!
He woke up tied to a chair, a gag in his mouth to avoid him making noise—or to avoid him biting his tongue off…
Okay, think. This is progress—if getting knocked out and tied to a chair can count as a diplomatic breakthrough.