I’ve seen firsthand how the victims of necromancers die: terrified and pleading. Imagining Kyrith in their place makes me oddly…nauseous.
Twenty-One
Kyrith
Chronological manipulation is supposed to be a myth. I always assumed it was beyond even my power, though I don’t have a grimoire to test my theory.
But it wasn’t just an arcanist messing with time spells. It was the Arcanaeum, which is infused with more magic than any mortal could dream of. The Arcanaeum, where liminals were sacrificed for magic-knows-how-long, creating a magical well larger than any other.
In many ways, the parriarchs of the past accidentally turned the building into its own kind of arcanist. Its magical well is a cauldron forged from the mixing of six different bloodlines, and it refills over time. I’ve never reached the limits of that magic, even with some of the heavier spells I’ve tried over the years.
The Arcanaeum didn’t build me a tomb. It saved me.
It kept me alive, somehow even allowed me a manifestation of myself so I wasn’t locked inside my own body.
But if that was what happened, why didn’t it heal me? Why not save the others before me? Why keep me suspended and never wake me up? Why make me relive my death over and over?
Power, I realise.
Mathias Ackland’s ritual was partially successful. My power is inextricably merged with the Arcanaeum. What if the strength I had was enough to give it the means to suspend my body, but not enough to heal me? How much energy did it expend just to give me the freedom to walk around?
I’m so full of questions that I startle slightly when Benny continues his explanation.
“John Ackland goes on to suggest that the simplest theoretical way to hold a person in suspension would be to create a time loop and anchor it so that it only affected a small area, like a few rooms.” He sips his tea delicately, prompting Pierce to do the same. “Repeating the events of, for example, twenty-four hours, over and over again. He was hoping to create a way to give alchemists and restorationists more time to cure serious maladies. In which case, the patient would simply remain on their sickbed while the world moved around them.”
Magic. A loop.
I didn’t step foot in the Arcananeum that day. Not until I followed Mathias and Rector Carlton to my doom. My ghostly manifestationhadto relive my death nightly, because that was the only record of my existence inside of the loop the Arcanaeum chose, but outside of that horrible moment, I was free to move as I pleased.
If the Arcanaeum was still in the same dimension, and the loop was larger, would I have been forced to go through making breakfast, dressing for the ball, walking through the university, and all the other tedious moments leading up to my death?
And why did the projection of my consciousness relive it and not my actual body?
Only…my body must’ve relived it. Some of it, at least. That’s why during those crucial minutes, I could feel again. Whatever transmutation spell turned my flesh to diamond, probably saving my life, must’ve waned during the reenactment.
I would accuse Benny of lying, but that’s not possible.
It’s surprising how simple it is to camouflage the slightly bitter taste of a truth serum with bergamot. He’s already finished half of his tea, and the effects would’ve taken hold from his first sip.
“For what it’s worth,” he continues. “I’m glad that my theory about Pierce’s touch was well-founded and allowed you to resume living a more normal life. I can’t imagine it was pleasant, reliving your sacrifice over and over.”
Finally, Pierce’s schooled expression slackens slightly.
It grates, being the object of his sympathy. He was the only heir who never saw my death echo, and I’m grateful for that. Pierce is not the kind of man I would ever trust to see me vulnerable. I can just picture his scorn if he’d heard me begging Edmund to save me.
No. He wouldn’t understand.
“You had a theory?” I prompt in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
“The original spell linked the six bloodlines with the Arcanaeum, allowing them to draw vast quantities of power from it. I assumed that the Arcanaeum was reforming those same bonds—sapping power from the heirs when they came into contact with you—with the aim of utilising the extra magic to undo the loop.”
Surely the heirs would’ve noticed such a drain?
Unless they were distracted or didn’t know what to look for. Leo was trying to escape banishment, Dakari wasconcerned for me, North barely acknowledges his magical well at the best of times, and Lambert… He’d just finished a magiball game. He was already exhausted.
Jasper even blacked out after touching me, because his magical well wasn’t recovered. He was experiencing a seizure at the time, so I thought nothing of it.
No doubt Pierce noticed and reported back to Benny.
