In the dance of time, a second's step can change the rhythm of a lifetime.
One second
My eyes snapped open.
I gasped, lungs burning as I drew in air, the sensation sharp and sudden like the first breath after drowning. My body was whole, unbroken—but my mind felt like splintered glass, each shard reflecting the moment I had just lived. The unbearable pain, Des's grip on my hand, the Time Mage's daughter fading into the light—it all pressed against my skull in a cacophony of memory and dread.
I wasn't dead. I wasn't gone. I was back.
The room around me pulsed with tension, vibrating like a taut string about to snap. The Time Mage stood hunched over the Moonlight Casket, her wails cutting through the thick air like jagged shards of glass. Her shoulders shook violently, hands clutching at the edges of the glowing artifact as if she could will it to remain stable by sheer force of desperation.
"No, no, no!" she sobbed, her voice hoarse and ragged. "I can't lose her again! Not again!"
The Blood Mage stood beside her, his face a mask of grim determination. His hands moved in precise, calculated motions, channeling magic into the fractured ritual. The intricate web of spells that had encased the casket shimmered, trembling as if the slightest disturbance could shatter it completely.
"Alia," he growled, his deep voice strained but steady. "Focus! Keep the energy steady, or it'll all collapse!"
But it was too late.
The casket began to glow brighter, the light spilling through its cracks like molten gold. The intricate runes etched into its surface flared violently.
"No!" the Time Mage screamed, lunging forward as if to physically hold the casket together. The Blood Mage grabbed her arm, pulling her back just as the artifact surged with a final, catastrophic burst of energy.
A shockwave exploded from the casket, the force of it slamming into them and sending them flying. The Time Mage hit the wall with a bone-jarring thud, collapsing to the ground in a heap. The Blood Mage was thrown to the far side of the room, his body crumpling amidst the rubble.
The air was thick with the acrid stench of burned magic. The destructive magic threw me against the wall, shattering stone and sending tremors through the air. I groaned, pushing myself upright, the force of the magical storm weighing heavily on my limbs. My gaze fixed on the relic—a jagged, pulsing source of unimaginable power—and my breath hitched.
Despite the unbearable force emanating from the vortex, Mose stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate. Every step seemed like a battle against a hurricane.
"No!" I screamed, but my voice was swallowed by the roaring winds.
I fought to close the distance, my body straining against the storm, but I wasn't fast enough. Mose reached the casket. Without hesitation, his hands grasped its surface.
The effect was instantaneous. The wild, chaotic energy dulled slightly as the magic latched onto him. His face contorted in agony, his veins glowing as liquid magic coursed through them like molten lava. I shouted again, frantic.
"Let go!"
Our eyes met. His determination cut through the chaos, steady and unyielding. He knew what I did: if he released the relic, we would all die. And yet, I couldn't bear the thought of him sacrificing himself.
Before I could intervene, a blur of movement caught my eye. Rolo. He charged forward, headlong into the chaos. Rolo slammed into Mose with all his might. The impact sent Mose sprawling, his grip on the relic broken. The casket hit the ground with a dull thud. Magic flared violently, tendrils lashing out like furious whips.
"What are you doing?!" Moses screamed, his voice raw with fury as he struggled to crawl back to the casket.
But Rolo was on him in an instant, pinning him down with desperate strength. The two wrestled, shouting over the storm. I couldn't make out their words, but the raw emotion on their faces was clear — Rolo's mask dropped to the ground as the casket sucked out the magic from it.
Then Moses stilled, his struggles ceasing as Rolo's words pierced through. Rolo shook his head, tears streaming down his face. Moses froze, his resolve faltering for the first time. Moses stared up at him, his lips trembling. His fingers, raw and scorched, flexed as if to reach for the relic again, but he stopped.
"What did you say to him?" I asked quietly.
Rolo was in the kitchen, staring into a mug of lukewarm cocoa. He didn't look up when I entered, his knuckles white around the ceramic handle. Rolo didn't answer. He just stared at the mug, his silence a wall I couldn't breach. Rolo did not answer my question that night. It took a long time before he was able to tell me exactly what happened.
Pure magic cracked like a whip and occasionally struck him in the side. Rolo said he had never seen magic so clearly before or since. He was the only one who could see the powerful magic flowing out of the artifact, the only one who could truly grasp what we were dealing with. The fear seeped into his bones and paralyzed him.
Rolo could see Mose getting closer to the casket, but he was helpless. His feet were simply rooted to the ground. He watched, frozen, as Mose touched the relic. He saw the whip-like strands of magic suddenly move towards Mose, and in the blink of an eye, wrap around his wrist. Magic flowed like a white stream of lava through his veins towards his heart.
Rolo knew that as soon as the magic reached Mose's heart, it would stop it and rip the boy's soul from his body. Even if he was a Mystbane, this magic was nothing like handling the magic of a mage. But Moses, perhaps unsuspectingly, tried to absorb as much of the ancient magic as possible and save us all.
Rolo acted without thinking, and by the time he realized it he was running full speed towards the other boy. Even when he got close, he didn't slow down. He knew he would have no chance of convincing Mose. So he did the only thing he could think of at the moment. He simply ran into the boy with all his might.
This caused Mose to lose his balance, and in his surprise he even let go of the artifact, only to hit the ground the next moment. Without a second's hesitation, Rolo threw himself at him, pinning him to the ground with all his strength. It was a desperate attempt to stop another, but at that moment it was the only thing he could do.
Moses looked up at him with a look of fierce anger, and like a madman began to shout at him to let him go at once. Rolo, however, did not release his grip and steeled himself.
"No."
This made Mose even more furious and he began to claw at Rolo. "Don't you understand? If I don't do it, we'll all die!" he cried out in despair.
Rolo was silent for moments and watched as Moses wriggled furiously underneath him, trying to free himself.
"You don't understand," Rolo said suddenly, in a voice searing with anger. "This magic... it'll kill!"
But Mose was not surprised, he probably knew.
"I don't want you to die," Rolo whispered, his voice trembling with helpless rage.
"Especially not in vain," he continued his voice breaking, "I can see it, Mose. This magic is too powerful, you'll take in ten percent of that power at most. And then it'll rip through your heart and kill you. The casket will still open, and you'll be gone for nothing."
Ten percent? Moses stared with widened eyes at Rolo towering over him. His lips quivered, but he could say nothing.
Rolo pulled his lips to a rueful smile. "You can't save us."
The two boys locked eyes, their silent exchange heavy with emotion. Maybe he could have succeeded, and maybe Rolo had lied to him. We never found out in the end. Moses's body went slack, and his head fell back against the ground. The weight of the moment was crushing.
The skin was burned off his fingers, his arms were red and his veins bulged with an ominous, painful throbbing, threatening to explode in a moment. His willpower had been broken, so I was sure that he could no longer move, yet Rolo would not let go. Mose began to sob. Rolo cried silently, too, looking into his eyes. They told each other everything in silence.
And then the relic surged.
A violent pulse of energy ripped through the room, throwing them apart. The last thing I saw was the look on their faces—anguish and relief, pain and surrender—before the magic swallowed everything.
Rolo took a sip of his lukewarm cocoa.
"I just didn't want him to die."
I put my hand on his shoulder, and he flinched.
"You did the right thing," I said and left him alone in the kitchen.
I heard the mug shattering as it hit the floor.
"You clean that up, will you?"
His frustrated growl followed me down the hall. Despite everything, a faint smile tugged at my lips. It was better than letting him drown in guilt.
I peeked into the room. Moses lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling steadily. White bandages covered his arms and hands, hiding the raw, burned flesh beneath. The fae doctor's words echoed in my mind: He'll never wield magic again. The damage to his magical veins is irreversible. Most likely he will be in pain for the rest of his life.
I sighed and closed the door. Rolo hadn't looked at Mose ever since, not once. He couldn't face what he had done—or perhaps he couldn't bear the sight of Mose, the absence of magic around him like a hollow ache.
The first rewind was almost imperceptible—a subtle shift, a second looping in on itself. My breath hitched as the chaotic winds stilled for the briefest moment. The Time Mage stood at the heart of it all, her form illuminated by the cascade of magic pouring from the opening casket. Her gaze fixed on me with an intensity that sent chills through my core.
The casket opened again, releasing its destructive force. I braced myself, but time folded once more, snapping back to the same instant. The Time Mage turned to me again, her expression shifting from grim determination to something that stopped my heart—pleading. A silent understanding passed between us, deeper than words.
She waved her hand swiftly, hurling the Blood Mage's limp body towards me. I lunged, catching it just as her eyes bore into mine. Remember, they seemed to say. No hesitation. No doubt.
"Evacuate."
The mirror flared to life in my hand, its surface rippling like water before it multiplied into countless pieces. Each piece took flight weaving through the magical storm toward my friends scattered across the battlefield.
Relief flickered in her eyes as she watched the mirror's magic take hold, dispersing to those first who were closest to the center of the magic. Rolo looked at me shocked before he and Mose vanished. Des disappeared mid-screaming my name. Lil wanted to grab my hand desperately but vanished before she could have touched me.
The Time Mage didn't look away. Even as her body started to crumble. Not once. As if she needed to make sure that, even in the chaos, I would hold true to what we had silently agreed upon.
Even when Mazen's magic enveloped us, her eyes didn't leave mine. The Time Mage's expression softened for a heartbeat, gratitude washing over her face like a tide. It was fleeting, but I saw it—a flicker of peace in her turmoil.
Mazen's magic flared, sharp and undeniable, as though it reached out and wrapped itself around my very core. The sensation was jarring, like unseen hands gripping my essence and wrenching me through space. My vision blurred, the world bending and twisting into streaks of impossible colors. For an instant, I felt weightless, like my body was dissolving into the pull of his spell, every part of me stretched thin across the fabric of reality.
Then came the impact. It wasn't physical, but it slammed into my senses like a thunderclap. The air reassembled around me with an audible snap, and gravity reclaimed its hold. My grip on the Blood Mage slackened, and I let his body slide to the ground.
As the Blood Mage's limp body hit the ground beside me, I straightened, ignoring the lingering dizziness from Mazen's teleportation spell. My voice cut through the tense silence like a blade.
"Reinforce the spatial isolation. Now!"
The command set the team into motion. Mages scrambled to amplify the barriers, their chants overlapping as layers of protective wards blossomed. The air shimmered with the telltale distortion of overlapping magic, each shield carefully calibrated to lock in anything and everything in an isolated space from our world.
Mazen stepped up beside me, his face pale and drawn. "What the hell is happening in there?"
I didn't answer immediately, my gaze fixed on the trembling void where the artifact lay sealed. I could still feel the pulse of its power, like a heart beating just out of rhythm with the rest of existence.
"It's a loop," I said finally, my voice low but sharp. "An infinite loop of time."
Mazen frowned, confusion flickering in his eyes. "A loop? What do you mean?"
"A single second," I explained, my gaze unwavering. "Repeating itself over and over. That place is trapped in that second until it uses up all the magic in the casket."
I glanced at the Blood Mage's body, his chest faintly rising and falling. Then my eyes shifted back to the shimmering doom of magic.
Mazen's lips parted slightly as he processed my words. He didn't need to ask, I knew what he was thinking from his grim expression alone. What happens when the mages reinforcing the isolation run out of magic? They'll run out before the casket does.
The unspoken implication hung between us like a storm cloud.
"If the loop expands," I said after a beat, my voice heavy with finality. "It'll consume everything."
Mazen's expression hardened.
The world will be trapped in that single second. Forever. The air seemed to grow colder as my words sank in. Around us, the mages continued to weave their wards, their faces lined with effort. The shimmering dome of isolation flickered faintly as they poured their strength into it.