Time is a gift, but we frequently wrap it up in layers of regret.
Time
"The auction starts in half an hour," announced one of Belizár's subordinates, extending a paper envelope to Onyx.
Violan leaped up from the sofa, a gleam of excitement flashing in her eyes. "Here comes my money!" she exclaimed, practically snatching the envelope from Onyx's hand.
She reached inside and pulled out a sleek black silk mask. With a grin, she tossed one at me, then Onyx.
I caught mine with a sigh, inspecting the delicate fabric. "Do I seriously have to wear this?" I asked, giving Violan a deadpan look.
Violan's grin widened. "Of course you do, darling. It's all part of the mystery!"
I grumbled but didn't protest further. Belizár's auctions were an exclusive affair, with every buyer being carefully vetted. The chairs themselves were reserved for a high price, and Belizár was notorious for personally screening everyone who attended. Each buyer's identity was kept secret, revealed only to Belizár, and without a coveted invitation, there was no chance of entering. Half an hour before the event, the final location of the auction was sent, leaving no room for uninvited guests.
Violan, being a seller and not just a buyer, had access to this information far earlier to showcase her goods. That's why I was here with her—with someone who had a reason to be there earlier.
After all three of us donned our ridiculous masks, Belizár's apprentice led us down a winding staircase. The stone corridors became more refined the closer we got, the walls adorned with intricate carvings and softly glowing runes. The air buzzed with faint magical vibrations, no doubt layers of protective enchantments.
We arrived at the entrance of one of the right-side balconies overlooking the auction hall. It was more elaborate than I had imagined, resembling private boxes, each one closed off from its neighbors. Inside, a single ornate chair sat before the railing, offering a perfect view of the circular stage below. Above us, more balconies circled the room, with an intricate chandelier casting a soft golden light over everything.
Violan swept into the chair with grace, her plain black cloak flowing behind her, the picture of elegant composure. Onyx and I remained standing behind her, observing the grand hall. Below, the stage was bare for now, but soon it would showcase the rare and often illicit items mages like Violan dealt in. The silence was filled with a sense of anticipation.
I couldn't help but glance around at the other balconies. The masks may hide our faces, but the atmosphere was thick with magic and secrets. Buyers, sellers, and traders alike—each here for their own reasons, yet all masked in more ways than one.
"So, what's first on the block?" I muttered, breaking the silence.
Violan's eyes sparkled beneath her mask. "Patience, Shaytan. You'll see soon enough. For now, just enjoy the show."
As we waited for the auction to begin, I leaned forward, trying to make sense of the faint hum of power that always lingered in the air at these types of events. Belizár's auctions weren't just a marketplace—they were a battlefield of wit, power, and deception.
Violan, as always, was right at home.
I froze as I felt the air shift. A subtle scent reached me, teasing the edges of my senses. The monster was purring enthusiastically.
I leaned casually toward Violan. "Could Lilinette have gotten an invitation?"
Violan, now focused on the stage, seemed to pause, considering the idea. "Highly unlikely," she said thoughtfully, "Lil and Belizár aren't exactly on speaking terms. Enemies, really. No way she'd waltz in here without him knowing."
I laughed under my breath. "Right. So, I wonder which poor soul she's impersonating this time."
Violan grinned behind her mask, catching on. "Unlucky fella, indeed."
I turned my head ever so slightly, scanning the balconies. I couldn't see her face, of course, but I knew. She was here, hiding in plain sight, just as I was.
Before I could think more on it, a gong sounded, echoing through the grand hall, and Belizár stepped onto the podium with the flair only he could pull off.
"Welcome to this year's sixth Magic Auction," he declared, arms wide open as if he were about to give everyone a hug. "The rules remain the same. Bidding is by booth number. No limits on the number of bids. And, as always, payment is required in full. Now, let the auction begin!"
He didn't linger, promptly handing things over to a robed magician before disappearing behind red curtains. Whatever excitement the auction held for everyone else, it failed to reach me. The ancient relics and arcane trinkets being paraded on stage barely registered. By the time they got to the fourth object, my patience had worn thin.
I leaned toward Onyx. "Think there's somewhere to go for a smoke around here?"
Onyx frowned, mulling it over for a second before shrugging. "Could be," he said noncommittally.
I didn't need more than that. I turned to Violan, whispering, "I'm heading out for a smoke." He mumbled something in response, too absorbed in the spectacle below to really acknowledge me.
Sliding open the balcony door, I stepped out into the dim hallway. A magician stood guard, and judging by the look on his face, he hadn't expected anyone to leave mid-auction.
"Just need a quick cigarette break," I said casually, offering a disarming smile. "Is there a designated spot for that?"
The mage led me down a series of winding corridors until we reached a secluded balcony that opened up to the cool night air. I wasn't surprised when he didn't leave, even as I fished out a cigarette. But as I raised it to my lips, a booming voice interrupted the quiet.
"You may go."
The cigarette hovered just inches from my mouth. Belizár. Not who I was expecting.
The mage obeyed without hesitation, retreating down the hall. Belizár, uninvited but clearly comfortable, stepped onto the balcony beside me. I blinked, trying to mask my surprise. My mind had been elsewhere—expecting someone else. Someone who often appeared when I least expected her.
But it wasn't Lilinette. It was Belizár.
I straightened my posture, realizing I should probably offer some kind of respectful gesture. A bow of sorts, maybe. He eyed me with mild amusement.
"You came with Violan, didn't you?"
"Yes, my Lord," I replied, as politely as I could muster.
He idly brushed his mustache, his gaze lingering somewhere far off. "Would you care to join me for tea?"
It wasn't a question. I wasn't about to refuse him—especially not as an apprentice under Violan's wing.
"Of course," I agreed, slipping the unlit cigarette back into the box.
Belizár nodded in quiet satisfaction as I snuffed the cigarette and followed him down the shadowed corridor.
I had no choice but to silently follow the figure of the mage through the seemingly endless corridors. The gong that had signaled the start of the auction was long past, now signaling its close.
We finally arrived in a spacious study, where a tray with steaming tea awaited on a polished table. My suspicion grew. Belizár's intentions were clear—or so I thought. He was trying to conspire, perhaps to sway one of Violan's apprentices behind her back.
His magic lazily lifted the silver pot, pouring two cups of the steaming drink. Only once the cups were full did he turn his attention to me. His gaze was unsettling, as though he'd been studying me closely this whole time. There was something in his eyes that immediately set me on edge.
"So, what are you doing here, Shaytan?" he asked, as casually as if he were asking about the weather.
My eyes widened before they quickly narrowed into slits. He saw through my disguise. Every muscle in my body tensed, preparing for a fight. But Belizár didn't move to strike. Instead, he calmly sipped his tea, completely at ease, as if he hadn't just exposed me.
"How did you find out?" I asked, lifting my own cup as if to steady my nerves.
He chuckled softly like I'd said something amusing.
"I know you, Shaytan," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "Your gestures, your movements... they're much harder to disguise than your face."
I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
Without a word, he pulled a jewel from his sleeve—a gem that resembled a lifeshard. Before I could react, he crushed it in his palm. The air around us thickened with magic, the very atmosphere shifting. But the magic wasn't hostile. It was powerful, yes, but not threatening. The illusion around him shimmered and fell away.
And in the next instant, I understood. Belizár was not Belizár.
"In every one of your lives, we have met," she said quietly, her voice a haunting echo of past eras. "The Mad King, who lived only to destroy. The Ashen King, who consumed humanity in his insatiable greed, leaving only a suffocating wasteland of ash behind. The Silver King, who united monsters under his reign... and the Only King, who rose to the throne after the fall of the others, trying desperately to preserve the fragile balance between humans and monsters." She paused, her gaze steady. "Perhaps I am the only one who has seen all of your faces."
A chill ran down my spine as her words sank in. I had never encountered magic this dangerous before. The room seemed to warp, reality bending at her command. And then, in an instant, I felt it—a ripple, the unmistakable touch of a Time Mage turning back the wheel of time.
I couldn't move. My body, my eyes, everything was frozen in place, locked onto the small figure of the time mage. But what I saw was not this room, not the here and now. I was transported to another time, another place, a vivid memory I never knew I had.
In my first life... I had fought beside my father. The weight of that memory hit me like a hammer. We were on the battlefield, but it had never been his destiny to prevail. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, choking my lungs. The cries of my allies filled my ears, their desperate screams ringing out in agony. I could taste their fear, their pain. My throat burned, thirsting for revenge, thirsting for the blood of the hunters who pursued us.
That night, the Mad King was born. A king whose bloodlust and wrath would be feared by both monsters and hunters alike for generations to come. His rise was a brief flash of brilliance—a star burning fiercely for but a moment, only to be snuffed out too soon.
A moment later, it felt as if I had fallen back into my body. And as the memory faded, I found myself back in the present, my heart pounding in my chest. My fingers instinctively clenched into fists, and I pressed my lips into a razor-sharp line. The raging fury and unstoppable wrath that belonged to the Mad King surged within me, threatening to engulf the entire world.
I glanced down at the tiny girl, making no effort to conceal the murderous intent in my gaze or my aura. I imagined that anyone else would have forgotten to breathe under such a stare, yet the ancient girl met my gaze with unwavering calm.
"Why are you so sure I won't kill you right now?" I questioned, my voice low and charged.
The girl merely smiled gently. "I know you won't kill me," she replied. "You never kill without a reason."
I sighed deeply, stepping away from her. I grabbed a cup of tea and moved to one of the prepared armchairs. Plopping down, I grimly took a sip of my drink.
"So?" I asked, my tone pointed. "Why do you look so young, mage?"
Only then did the Time Mage take a seat and respond. "I must pay for time with time," she said cryptically.
I sipped my tea thoughtfully, noting that she didn't seem offended by my rudeness. My sharp eyes swept over her form again. Though she had sacrificed years of her life for her magic, this little girl felt like she was fading. I couldn't quite articulate why, but I sensed her life force flickering within her, barely hanging on.
"Why are you turning back the clock?" I began.
The Time Mage glanced down wearily at her tiny hands. "I needed to find a way to piece together a shattered soul."
I shook my head, suddenly struck by a crucial realization.
The Time Mage reached into her clothing and pulled out a broken dagger, placing it on the table between us. Recognition washed over me.
"For most of my lives, you were neither friend nor foe," she said.
"That is why I didn't understand how you came to possess this dagger in our last life," she continued, her eyes narrowing. "When you approached me, you already knew I was a Time Mage and asked me to bring it back to the past. But one day, the dagger broke in two, and shortly after, you formed an alliance with Mazen." Her gaze became uncharacteristically piercing for a little girl. "That has never happened in any of my previous lives."
A satisfied smile crept onto my lips as I picked up the broken dagger, twirling it between my fingers. A reflection in the mirror world. Mazen had once been my ally. My smile widened.
"You don't actually undo the past," I stated, watching her expression stiffen slightly. "Your ability doesn't affect souls, so you couldn't simply reverse the fact that a soul was torn apart."
The emotions we felt did not disappear without a trace. We cared for each other because, even if we forgot, we knew in our souls that we were allies. The mage's magic only extended to this world; other dimensions remained unaffected. I had no idea how Mazen had embedded my figure in Alice's mind, but that wasn't important. All that mattered was that we had radically changed everything.
The Time Mage cleared her throat. "I revealed all this to you because I wanted to avoid a confrontation, if possible."
I shook my head slowly. If it annoyed the ancient mage, she didn't show it.
"I'm afraid that's not possible," I said at last.
Her eyes became truly piercing, no longer resembling those of a little girl. "Why?"
"Because you're toying with dangerous artifacts," I replied. "Your plan, whether it succeeds or fails, will have fatal consequences."
The Time Mage showed no surprise at my words. It was clear that fusing a soul was immensely perilous and would require immense magic—if it was possible at all. A bitter smile tugged at her lips.
"A world without my daughter means nothing to me," she said softly.
I nodded, understanding completely. "I don't think we're going to agree."
"It's unfortunate," she replied.
A moment of silence settled around us. For a second, neither of us moved. But when I suddenly pushed myself away from the armchair, the world slowed to a crawl. One moment, I could see the Time Mage clearly; the next, my body was engulfed by flames, and acrid smoke filled my lungs.
In my second life, as a child, I had run away from the hunters. Miraculously, Violan had found me. He looked at me with the same, kind eyes I know when he extended his hand. Accepting that delicate hand, which seemed so much larger than mine at the time, condemned him to death. Not immediately, of course; it took years for disaster to strike.
Long, silly years filled with the light laughter of lust mages, their silly jokes, and light, sweet banter. My heart sank at the memory of the anguished faces that had once smiled at me. Their giggles turned to screams as fragile fingers clutched desperately at my arms with surprising strength.
Violan's grip dug into me as he looked up with all his remaining strength. A thick trail of blood ran from his lips to his chin, and the patterns across his body were fading. A shard of metal protruded from his chest, and even as I denied it, I knew he was dying. Yet those caramel-brown eyes were not desperate for his own life.
"Save them," Violan's voice echoed low, yet it resonated loudly in my ears. His grip on my arm weakened. Those were his last words. I could no longer hear the quivering beat of his heart, and the absence felt excruciating. It was as if all sound had vanished; I could no longer hear the crackling flames. The only thing that rang in my ears was Violan's soft voice. Ignoring the choking smoke, ash, and unbearable heat, I began to walk.
In my chest burned a hatred far more destructive than this fire. The Ashen King emerged from a blood-red inferno, ready to set the world ablaze and reduce it to ashes.
The next moment, I was violently torn from the memory. I was standing one moment, then slammed to the ground the next. If I hadn't reacted quickly, the dagger would have pierced my chest. For a moment, I could smell smoke and see flames before my eyes focused on the face of the Blood Mage. His eyes narrowed slightly before I seized his neck in a rough grip.
"You're waking too quickly," he said, fearlessly, "It's cheating."
I was about to turn the tables on him when I sensed the Time Mage's magic in the air.
Though most of my famiglia had already met me in my first life, I first met Rolo in my third life during the battle against the Fifth King. At that time, we merely locked eyes before he vanished into the chaos of battle. When the stray shifter began making a name for himself among the monsters, I offered him an alliance, but he refused it without a thought.
The battle played out much like my own reality but with far more casualties on the hunters' side. Their power and influence waned after the confrontation, and this decline continued. I hadn't been able to save Joe then, and Alice had been killed on a mission just a few months after, despite receiving the antidote.
Des was broken—he didn't speak, eat, or sleep. One day, he simply disappeared, leaving only bloodied bandages on the bed. Even when he returned, he hardly spoke, his body increasingly covered in severe wounds. I waited in vain, and he never came back. I found him years later, long after his heart had stopped beating.
After that, so many people around me died before the wheel of time came to a halt for a moment. I realized then that, until that point, even without the memories of my past lives, I had been desperately trying to save everyone around me. I understood that I had failed again and again.
A burning pain in my side jolted me back to reality. Though fading memories spun before my eyes, I instinctively dodged the attack, so the dagger merely grazed my side instead of piercing my chest. I blinked away the last remnants of memory and kicked the Blood Mage off me.
The bleeding stopped quickly, and the wound vanished in moments. The Blood Mage and Time Mage exchanged glances. Indeed, it was a stalemate.
"So?" I raised an eyebrow. "Are we at a draw?"
The Time Mage's expression hardened. She knew well that if we didn't settle this battle now, we would inevitably face each other again.
"I suppose not, then," I answered my own question, feeling the magic thicken in the air once more.
This time, the trance lasted only briefly, allowing me glimpses from the endless stream of memories: Lilinette's smile, her hair glistening red in the light, her bloody lips; Mazen's broken eyes and hunched form; then a dark room where we stood silently, simply observing each other for a moment. An unusual, obsessive light flickered in his eyes. Perhaps that was when we entered into a silent alliance for the first time.
"Remember, you are in my realm, Shaytan," I heard the Time Mage's voice, but all I could see was Mazen pursing his lips in displeasure.
I sighed, stamping my foot. I heard the Blood Mage draw in a sharp breath, and that was enough for me to pinpoint his location. In an instant, I was before him.
I blinked the memories from my mind, and in one swift movement, I swept the Blood Mage's leg out from under him. He fell with an unmanly squeak. I stepped on his wrist, applying just enough pressure to elicit a soft crack, compelling him to drop the knife and clutch his wound with his other hand. Crouching down, I seized the blade between my fingers and playfully spun it once or twice.
"You know me—I'll avoid a fight if at all possible," I declared, ignoring the Blood Mage's squirming. My gaze remained locked on the girl's sharp eyes. "But if it isn't possible…"
I left the ending to her imagination. With a sudden motion, I raised the knife high.
The Time Mage cried out, and I felt her magic wash over me, attempting to seize control of my body with tenfold force. But it was too late. Even as I found myself momentarily frozen in a stream of stunning and despairing memories, I knew exactly where the blood mage was. In one swift motion, I swung the knife down.
"I owe you a lot," I said as I let the blade sink into the concrete beside him. I stood upright, watching as the Blood Mage glanced at the blade, his complexion pale as death. "Do not confront me."
With that, I removed my foot from the mage's wrist. He immediately crawled away from the blade, wrapping his hand protectively around his injury. Quietly, he began muttering healing incantations, but he never took his eyes off me.
"The choice is yours," I added. "Whether to make me your enemy."
After that, I simply walked out of the room. I had said what I needed to say.
I strolled through the corridors, the sound of pounding footsteps growing louder behind me. I sighed. Well, she doesn't give up easily, I'll give her that.