Keill looked like a charming woman in her thirties. She was short, with brown hair tied in a long braid and electric blue eyes. They almost looked like the plasma that spread when the loops ended.
She wore a dashing black suit with silver accents, and on her back was a glass tank filled with the same blue plasma that defined this looping reality. The tank was strapped to her back with black pipes running into the bag, giving her a Gothic steampunk look.
"It's all fine. To be honest, I was really surprised when I read that I had met someone else like me in a previous loop," she said, waving her hand casually.
Her gaze swept over the group, finally settling on Elion.
"Sheesh, he's not okay," she muttered. "I believe he's the one who can remember, the one you told me about last time."
Lumos nodded.
"Yeah, that's him—though I think it really messed him up," the sorcerer said, sounding a little sad.
"Hey! I'm fine," Elion blurted out in fake outrage. "Never been better."
"So that's the human you were talking about?" the young cook continued, stepping closer to Keill. "She does look unusual."
His voice sounded calm, but only because he'd buried the screaming deep enough that no one could hear it. He would try and keep the unhinged out for now.
She grinned.
"That, young man, is what we call style." Keill struck a confident pose. "If I'm going to be stuck in time with the same outfit for god knows how long, I might as well look as dashing as possible!"
"That's what I'm talking about!" Lumos looked starstruck by the eccentric character in front of him. "Finally, someone who understands the importance of style."
He snickered.
"No wonder I held you in such high regard in my notes."
Keill grinned.
"I'm flattered. But for someone who understands the true meaning of life, why are you wearing such rags?" she said, eyeing Lumos like a piece of merchandise.
"Ah, well… I had some unfortunate circumstances," the sorcerer replied, clearly dejected.
"I can see that. I doubt you're all here on vacation."
Elion smirked.
Depends on the day, really.
"So, Lady Keill," the young cook said, trying to sound sane. "Who are you? Are you an unfortunate traveler like us?"
She stared at him.
"Travelers?" she echoed. "Has the war ended?"
"The war?" Elion repeated, suddenly more interested.
"Well, yeah, the stupid war the sun waged against the earth," she clarified.
"Do you mean the Great Holy War?" Elion asked.
She raised an eyebrow.
"That's… that's not what we called it." Her expression darkened. "When did you enter the loop?"
"943 of the Fourth Age."
"The Fourth…" Her previously cheery expression was gone. "It's been more than a thousand years…"
Wait, if this has been going on and one loop here equals four days in the outside world. A year must have passed since we entered the time loop…
"Didn't I tell you that last time?" Lumos asked, confused. "I wrote about the thousand-year-old human."
Keill looked at him.
"I must have omitted that detail in my notes. This… was one of the reasons I stopped keeping track of the loops. I didn't want to know how long I'd been here."
Her fist clenched, but she forced a smile—though Elion could tell it was fake confidence.
"Then we end this," she said, looking at the group. "With all of you, we might have a chance."
"You know how to escape the loop?" Elion asked, raising an eyebrow.
Though I won't be leaving without Miss Shadow's head as a war trophy.
"Yeah, that's why I'm here in the first place," Keill said. "I was sent by Lord Chronos, God of Memories and Time. This loop is his creation."
Chronos?! Humans always believed the gods were nameless—above such things. They only referred to them by the concepts they embodied… but not now, it seems.
"How do you intend to break a divine spell?" Lumos asked, more curious than surprised.
"We're not going to break it," Keill replied. "We're going to complete it."
Complete it?
Everyone looked as confused as Elion.
"Lord Chronos devised this place as an experiment. He looked into the future to see if a single variable—me—could change the course of time," she said. "He wanted the battle that is about to unfold here to end without bloodshed."
So the conversation I heard in my dream was really about the God of Memories and Time… but who was he talking to?
"Lord Chronos froze this whole place in time when the battle broke out, damning the previous four days to repeat until the desired outcome is achieved."
"And to change things, he needed a variable: me." She grabbed the tank of blue plasma. "He gave me the ability to write myself notes across time with this thing."
"Why didn't he give you the ability to remember?" Elion asked, genuinely curious.
Keill eyed him intensely.
"So I don't end up like you," she scoffed. "Remembering is a curse. It means living through thousands and thousands of identical days. That would drive even the strongest minds mad."
Elion didn't know what to think. He had felt, more than once, that the ability to remember was closer to a curse—but it was also the only thing that allowed him to make progress in the loop. The only thing that let him save Eshrod and Joart's goons. That helped him uncover the Sharp Bastard's murder plot.
But it also made him remember what agony felt like… what being forgotten felt like.
Mother…
Sometimes, he thought it would have been better to give in to the Class IV when he was being tortured. That thought had never truly left him—no matter how deeply he loathed it.
And then there was Farha. He would never forget the look she gave him while they traveled through the forest. The look of someone scared.
He didn't know whether she was afraid for him or of him, but either way, the doubt lingered.
Unless I ask her… but I only have this loop to do so, otherwise, she'll forget.
For that task, maybe his fractured psyche was an advantage. Like alcohol, it was a kind of social lubricant.
"But I guess you're the one who's going to save us, so it's not all bad," Keill added.
"Me?" Elion pointed at himself comically.
Hiding his illness behind humor and chaos had now become his only remedy—however superficial it was.
"Yes. You can act immediately, and you remember more clearly than written notes ever could," she explained.
"We need to find a way to convince the army of the Sun God not to lay siege to the Dweller of the Depths' secret base," she continued. "But even after all my attempts at negotiation, I couldn't convince the old bastard."
"I… I can't not lay siege to the Dwellers' base. I promised myself I'd make them bleed for what they did," Elion said.
Kellta shifted uneasily—still a Dweller of the Depths, no matter how much she resented her kin.
"Elion… your name is Elion, right?"
He nodded.
"Well… I'm sorry, but you can't."
The young cook clenched his jaw.
"I'm the one who remembers," he muttered. "I'm the one who can shape reality."
Keill stared into his eyes.
"Is your personal vendetta worth more than your freedom?" she asked. Then she looked at the other Unlocked. "More than everyone's freedom?"
"But—"
"You're spiraling, Elion. You can't keep going like this without losing yourself—and you know it."
He didn't answer.
"You'll eventually beat High Lord Sara… but by the end of it, you'll be a husk. Basically dead."
Sara…
Miss Shadow's real name.
He looked back at the group. No one spoke. No one tried to persuade him. They knew it was his choice to make—and nothing they said would change it.
His eyes settled on Farha.
He grimaced, then sighed.
"Alright…"
He would be stuck with the promise to make them feel pain… and never be able to fulfill it.
But the frayed remnants of his humanity—clinging desperately to his broken mind—wouldn't let him abandon everyone.
So Miss Shadow gets her happily ever after, while I'm left with her ghost haunting the corner of my head…