The Years of Apocalypse - A Time Loop Progression Fantasy

It was easy enough, with a delegation of high priests at her back, to convince the Council of Five to recognize her as a new Prophet. It was only three days later that they retroactively clarified that they had 'tentatively' recognized her, with certain privileges withheld until official recognition from the Pontiff could be delivered.

This, in turn, put a hold on the drilling operations she had just ordered beneath Citadel.

She returned to the council chambers with the priest of Carkavakom in tow. She would have learned his name, but he refused to provide it, which was apparently a thing those of the order sometimes did. She started thinking of him as 'Nameless.' Mirian walked past the guards without comment and threw open the doors. The First Councilor was there, talking with several government officials she didn't recognize and Bishop Saban.

"Holy Prophet," the First Councilor Irzif said, bowing respectfully.

"Why have you put a hold on my operations?" she asked.

"I ordered no such thing, I assure you," Irzif said.

Mirian scowled. "I'm not in the mood for games, Council Irzif. You put a hold on the declaration. The end result was the drilling stopped. I am completely uninterested in discussing exactly what laws or procedures caused this. Did our last meeting about the leyline eruptions not make clear the urgency of our current situation? I cannot properly explain the destruction that will result if I don't find the Elder device beneath the city."

Irzif smiled. It was one of those political smiles, the ones that were overly friendly, the kind someone put on when they were about to announce something terrible. "My sincerest apologies, Holy One. However, the law binds us all, and—"

"Human laws mean nothing to a Prophet," the priest of Carkavakom said, matching Irzif's smile.

And that's why I brought you along, Mirian thought. She said nothing, letting Nameless's words echo in the chamber. The assistants and bureaucrats had grown quiet, and the shuffling of paperwork had ceased.

"Yes, but she—the Pontiff must recognize her. A Prophet may not be bound by the law, but I am. She could—anyone could just show up and—we want to be sure there's no trickery."

Nameless smiled with all his teeth. He was, Mirian had to acknowledge, disarmingly creepy, and she was just glad it was working to her advantage. "I repeat that she has seen aspects of the God of Fear Himself."

Irzif glanced at Bishop Saban. It was only a brief glance, but it was enough that she knew what was going on. Mirian couldn't help but let out an exasperated sigh. "Saban, tell the Department of Public Security I'm not interested in disrupting their operations, but I will if provoked. I don't care what General Corrmier does."

Bishop Saban's eyes went wide before he got his expression back under control. "Holy One, I think you must have me confused with someone else. I'm Bishop Saban, of the Luminate—"

"I cannot tell you how tired I am of people lying!" Mirian snapped. The word echoed in the chamber. "Time is of the essence. If the Elder Gate isn't found, there won't be an Alkazaria."

***

The confrontation worked—for another three days. Then, she found that most of the drilling and divination she'd ordered had slowed to a trickle. The Council denied doing anything, but some investigating found that the Department of Interior had reassigned the geomancers Mirian was using to reinforce the walls of the city. The claim was that Dawn's Peace might move out of Rambalda at any time, and Alkazaria's defenses were inadequate.

The irony nearly killed her.

Once she'd solved that, there was a work stoppage by the Miner's Guild. They claimed they were being underpaid by the Department of Treasury. It took another few days to unravel it. As best she could tell, paperwork in the Treasury had gotten lost and the payments that temporarily stopped, but when Mirian had solved the problem by paying the Guild herself, she found that someone had bribed one of the guildmasters, who had in turn ordered the stoppage to continue.

Mirian griped about it one evening with her father. She had taken a room in one of the towers on First Hill, then applied her usual ward scheme.

"This didn't happen in Palendurio. How are there so many short-sighted fools here?"

Gaius leaned back in his chair, holding a steaming tea cup he wouldn't drink from. "I ran into a similar problem during the Unification War. Most people are short-sighted. These people have lived all their lives playing games of petty power, maneuvering in councils, arranging bribes, impeding their rivals, and accumulating coin and titles whenever they can. What they're doing now is not just what they know best, but a reflection of how the world works for them. The skills that are perfect for normalcy are terrible for a crisis."

Mirian paced about the room. A courier had brought up food from one of the street kitchens, but it sat ignored on the table. "But they all know about the arcane eruptions! Even with the Gates lessening the effect, they're everywhere, and growing fast."

"Yes. But there's another factor. I once knew a general. He fancied himself a master of strategy and war. The first time he suffered a defeat, he blamed poor luck. An enemy arcanist brigade had turned the flank, and the line had collapsed shortly after. The next time he lost, he blamed the scouts and the officers of the second division for tactical blunders. The third time he lost, he blamed the weather, blamed his logistics captain, and blamed his soldiers for not holding fast. Fundamentally, he could not accept the truth that he was a shit general."

Mirian laughed.

"I suppose it's funny now. At the time, it wasn't, because he'd gotten two thousand soldiers killed through his own incompetence. The point though is this: there are things people hold true, and they'd rather ignore the reality of the world that confront the foundation their sense of self is built on."

"What happened to him?"

"I killed him," Gaius said.

"Are you suggesting I start killing all the people opposing me here? I admit, I'd love to take Irzif's head."

"No, it probably won't work. I had to deal with a revolt from his officers. As much as he was a poor general, he was good at gaining his troops' loyalty. Cutting off heads might terrify some into obeying, but it'll mean just as many start secretly working against you."

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Mirian stopped pacing and collapsed into one of the armchairs. "It's so tiring. If there was just a spell I could cast…"

"Yes, I've wished that many times, Naluri. It would be nice if things were simple. But they never have been. And never will be."

She closed her eyes, appreciating the smell of the food, but not in the mood to actually eat. "Any results?"

"Some. I've certainly discovered a lot of places the Elder Gate isn't. Unfortunately, that means I've eliminated most of the shallow locations. You'll want the geomancers to look deeper."

"It can never be easy." She opened her eyes and stood. No time to rest. She started looking over the leyline data her father had mapped out for her. Hopefully, the results would narrow down where the Elder Gate was.

***

By the 19th of Duala, it became clear to Mirian that she wouldn't uncover the Gate in a single cycle. She began the process of mapping out the city, using two pages in her soulbound spellbook to preserve what she'd learned. She also added a few things to her notes on ebonbloom lotuses, though she'd dedicated little time to studying them because she'd been so busy with other things.

Bureacratic intransigence had at last cleared up on the 15th when a leyline had erupted southwest of Madinahr. Witnesses said the ocean had boiled away and there was now a rift in the continent a mile long. That, plus the growing brightness of the magical auroras in the skies, had been downright inspiring for the workers and arcanists. People had begun volunteering to help, but it was all too little too late.

Then, on the 23rd of Duala, Mirian awoke to a tapping on her door. She was looking over papers scattered across her desk, trying to find any device schematics she actually thought were worth recording. Her frustration had been building up as she was stymied both by the political forces in Alkazaria and problems they'd yet to overcome in material science. Another interruption only made her blood steam.

"Yes?" she asked, and telekinetically opened the door.

A nervous looking young acolyte stood before her. "Holy Prophet, I apologize for disturbing you," he said, bowing deeply. "I… I overheard… there is talk of a great blasphemy. I thought that you should be warned. The bishop said… but you come first."

Mirian rose from her, hackles rising. "What is it?" she asked.

"Word is that the Praetorians have returned. I heard—and my sincerest apologies if I heard wrong, for only you can see what lies before us—"

He was babbling. "What? Spit it out."

"—they may try to arrest you. They say… they are questioning you. Some have named you False Prophet."

Mirian found she was grinding her teeth. "Thank you for your warning," she said as pleasantly as she could. She stood there for a moment after the acolyte left, trying to decide the best path. The most efficient path.

Time spent finding the gate now extends all the remaining cycles. I need to deal with this. Now.

She left out the window because it was faster, levitating towards the Citadel.

***

The guards in front of Council Chambers looked alarmed to see her, but they stepped aside. She saw First Councilor Irzif, and standing next to him, First Praetorian Voran and three other Praetorians. The sun was at angle so one of the beams of light from the skylights in the dome illuminated them. There were others in the chamber, but she paid them no mind.

"My work has been delayed again, and now I hear I am to be declared False," she said loudly.

"Ever the subtle one, as I was saying," Irzif said with that fake smile of his. He was more confident now.

Voran turned to her. He had a wand in his hand already. Mirian recognized Trinea among the Praetorians by his side. "There's been reports of you meeting with a strange man in Alkazaria. Someone doing his own artifice and drilling operations. Someone with a very… odd… soul," he said slowly. "It falls under our jurisdiction. But such associations have sent chills through the Luminates."

Mirian felt the fire in her building. "We have less than five days left before Enteria is annihilated. The leylines are supporting the Divir moon, and their collapse means the Mausoleum of the Ominian plummets back to Mayat Shadr. Nothing survives. Time is reset. And I try again. This is the 215th loop. Instead of plotting petty political schemes and grasping for fragments of power, you should do one of two things: spend time with those you love, or help me dig. Everything else is meaningless."

That gave Voran pause. "An interesting claim. I find it hard to believe."

"You know of the rift by Madinahr. You've seen the auroras in the skies. I can show you the leyline data."

"Ah, data from her own devices, as interpreted by her!" Izrif exclaimed.

Voran shot the councilor a glance before turning back to Mirian. "What did you do to Adria? Whatever's happened, she should be with you."

Mirian took a deep breath. Not to calm her rage that had been simmering in her since her memory curse had been lifted, but to focus it. "So you knew all along. Fate's a funny thing, isn't it? Nikoline Brunn murdered Adria so that her role as double agent for the Akanans wouldn't be revealed. She didn't know what Adria's true purpose was, did she?"

Trinea's eyes went wide and her mouth fell open a little. She took a step back as if struck.

Voran only looked concerned.

"Neither did I, until recently." Mirian took a step forward. "The arch-necromancer Atrah Xidi is the least of your concerns."

"Atroxcidi is a threat to all of Baracuel," Voran replied calmly. He glanced at one of the other Praetorians, who very subtly shook his head. "You should come with us. For the greater good of Baracuel."

"He's a threat because you made him one. Do you know what our family wanted? To be left alone. To live a peaceful life. It was Baracuel who broke the treaties. And it was you who killed my mother before my very eyes. First Praetorian Voran, I name you for what you are: a murderer."

The last word echoed in the chambers. Every person in them was looking at them now with a held breath.

"No man should have that much power. Every treaty requires assurances, Naluri."

"A squad of Praetorians wasn't enough to take on a single arcanist? You could have incapacitated her—"

"—regret that she was killed. But I'd do it again if I had to. You must understand it was for the greater good."

Mirian was screaming now. "—and not only did you take her from me, you tried to scour the memories of her love! And you knew. You knew! When you helped me kill Apophagorga, you could have told me who I was. But this is my warning to every one of you: no matter how hard you try to hide the truth—of what you want, of who you are—I will find it! Whether in this cycle or a hundred more, you cannot hide who you are. Murders. Schemers! You're the reason this word is going to die!"

One of the Praetorians stepped close to Voran. "Sir—"

Voran pulled a second wand from his bandoleer. "She's unarmed. Do it."

Mirian's soulbound spellbook and Eclipse were in her hand in an instant. "I've been wanting an excuse to do this," she snarled.

Shock registered on Voran's face, but in an instant, he and the other Praetorians had summoned shields. Mirian cast her own prismatic shield, then realized she'd made a tactical error. Voran hadn't just been talking for fun; he'd already cast a signal to the other Praetorians, probably as soon as Mirian had walked into the room. The Praetorian attack teams had already been in place, ready to raid her apartments at the tower. A single breath after her shield came into place, the glass in the skylights shattered, and at least two squads of Praetorians descended.

The panicked screams of the bureaucrats and functionaries in the room began a moment later.

Mirian let the fury pour through her and started her assault.