Twelve complete cycles of the same devastating sequence—awakening, warning, preparation, battle, victory, migration, and ultimate destruction by the Greater Hasura. Twelve attempts to change an outcome that seemed as fixed as the stars themselves, each failure driving him deeper into a despair that transcended ordinary human understanding.
Through each repetition, he had tried different approaches. In some cycles, he had shared his prophetic knowledge immediately, warning about every detail of the approaching threat. In others, he had remained silent, hoping that the natural flow of events might somehow lead to a different conclusion. He had tried altering small details—suggesting different defensive positions, recommending alternative evacuation routes, even attempting to convince the elders to abandon the sanctuary entirely before any attack occurred.
Nothing worked. Nothing ever worked.
The realization that had crystallized in his mind was as terrible as it was undeniable: even if his team managed to return to their underground complex, they would not survive without the support and protection of the clan. Their scientific knowledge and technological resources meant nothing in a world where survival depended on mastering supernatural abilities and understanding mystical threats. They needed the sanctuary's people to live—which meant the sanctuary itself had to survive.
But how could they survive against an enemy that existed beyond the normal boundaries of victory and defeat? The Greater Hasura was not simply another creature to be fought; it was a force of nature, patient and implacable as entropy itself. No amount of preparation, no level of sacrifice, no degree of courage or wisdom seemed capable of changing their fundamental fate.
As Tian experienced his awakening for thirteenth time, watching Elder Lysara dissolve the protective cocoon with those same practiced motions that had become as familiar as breathing, he made a decision that surprised even himself. Instead of launching into warnings or remaining paralyzed by despair, he would seek wisdom from the one person in the sanctuary who might understand the true nature of his situation.
"Elder Lysara," he said, his voice carrying a calm that hadn't been present in any of his previous awakenings, "I need to speak with Grand Elder Zivan immediately. It's a matter of utmost importance."
The fourth elder studied his expression carefully, noting the strange combination of exhaustion and clarity that seemed to emanate from him like an aura. "Are you experiencing difficulties with the integration process?" she asked, her healer's instincts responding to something indefinable in his demeanor.
"Not difficulties," Tian replied, rising from his meditation position with fluid grace. "Revelations. But I need to discuss them with someone who has achieved the highest level of understanding our people possess."
Elder Lysara nodded slowly, recognizing the gravity in his tone. "Hisag," she called to the scholar who had been observing from the chamber's edge, "please convey to Grand Elder Zivan that our newly awakened friend requires an urgent audience. Tell him it concerns matters of prophetic significance."
As Hisag hurried away to deliver the message, Lysara turned back to the other members of Tian's team. "Continue with your meditation exercises," she instructed gently. "I will remain here to guide your progress while Tian attends to his business with the Grand Elder."
The walk to Elder Zivan's chamber felt different this time—longer somehow, as if the sanctuary itself was giving Tian time to organize his thoughts and prepare for what might be the most important conversation of any of his lives. The floating crystals that illuminated the corridors seemed dimmer than usual, or perhaps that was simply his perception colored by the weight of thirteen failures pressing down on his consciousness.
When he finally entered the sacred chamber where Grand Elder Zivan maintained his eternal vigil, the ancient master was waiting for him. The starry depths of Zivan's eyes seemed to pierce directly through to Tian's soul, seeing truths that existed beyond the boundaries of normal perception.
"Child," Elder Zivan spoke before Tian could announce himself, his voice carrying the weight of cosmic understanding, "you seem to be worried, yet you're not showing it on your face. What is bothering you? You can share it with me."
The invitation was exactly what Tian had hoped for—an opening to speak freely without having to justify or explain his need for guidance. Taking a deep breath, he settled into a respectful position before the Grand Elder and began to unburden himself of the knowledge that had been crushing his spirit.
"Elder, I have been reliving the same events numerous times now," he began, his voice steady despite the magnitude of what he was about to reveal. "I am not sure whether to call them visions or dreams, but I am certain that I am living through those moments—truly experiencing them as if they were real. Each time, the sequence ends with catastrophe and then restarts from my awakening in Elder Lysara's chamber."
He paused, searching Elder Zivan's ancient features for any sign of disbelief or dismissal, but found only patient attention and growing interest.
"I have been trying to make things right, to change the outcomes, but I am not able to do anything meaningful," Tian continued, his voice beginning to carry the weight of his accumulated frustration. "No matter what I do, no matter how I try to alter events, everything proceeds to the same inevitable conclusion."
For the next hour, Tian recounted every detail of his repeated experiences. He described the approaching creature horde with its precise numbers and composition. He explained about the parasitic flower that drained magical energy, the desperate battles that followed, the elders' heroic sacrifices, and the sanctuary's miraculous transformation into a traveling seed.
Most importantly, he spoke of the Greater Hasura—that ancient serpent of impossible size whose very existence seemed to make mockery of mortal aspirations. He described its patient hunting, its terrible intelligence, and the way it consumed their entire civilization in a single, devastating strike.
"I have tried warning everyone immediately," Tian explained, his voice growing hoarse with emotion. "I have tried remaining silent and letting events unfold naturally. I have suggested different tactics, different evacuation routes, different timing for every major decision. Nothing changes the fundamental outcome. It's as if we are all fated to be devoured, and no amount of preparation or foreknowledge can save us."
When he finally finished his account, Grand Elder Zivan sat in contemplative silence for several long minutes. The cosmic depths of his eyes seemed to be consulting knowledge that existed beyond the boundaries of normal understanding, accessing wisdom accumulated over centuries of mystical study.
"Child," he said at last, his voice carrying a note of genuine astonishment, "this is something even I have never heard of before. I know of oracles who can glimpse different possible futures, seers who can perceive the threads of fate before they are woven into reality. But you are describing something far more profound—actually living through those futures, experiencing them with complete sensory and emotional reality."
The admission that even the Grand Elder found his situation unprecedented sent a chill through Tian's enhanced consciousness. If Zivan—who had achieved the fourth chakra level and possessed knowledge spanning generations—had never encountered anything like this, then he was truly in uncharted territory.
"Elder," Tian asked, his voice barely above a whisper, "if I am not able to change anything at all, why am I being pushed back to the same place again and again? What should I do now? Is there anything I could even do?"
Grand Elder Zivan leaned forward slightly, his starry gaze focusing with laser intensity on Tian's face. "Child, this is not something simple that can be easily explained or resolved. You must understand what your awakening truly is—only then will you be able to comprehend why this is happening to you."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle before continuing. "If what you are telling me is true, then you must live through these experiences as much as possible. Study them, analyze them, search for patterns and meanings that might not be immediately apparent. The answer to why you are trapped in this cycle—and how to escape it—is something only you can discover."
The Grand Elder's expression softened slightly, showing compassion for the burden Tian was carrying. "But for now, let us focus on what we can control. I will teach you what my father taught me—the very chant I use to control and channel energy. This practice will enlighten your mind and give you greater control over your chakra energy. Perhaps with enhanced control over your own power, you will gain new insights into the nature of your predicament."
As Elder Zivan began to prepare for the teaching session, Tian felt a flicker of something he hadn't experienced in twelve cycles: hope. Not hope for escape from his temporal prison, but hope for understanding. Perhaps the answer lay not in changing external events, but in transforming his own relationship to them.