The Years of Apocalypse - A Time Loop Progression Fantasy

Chapter 44 - Soul Searching

When it came time for the study session with Nicolus and Xipuatl, Mirian's first move was to get the two boys to argue about if Baracuel or Tlaxhuaco's magic was better. After their spat, she was ready with summaries of some of the books, critiques of some others, and a ready-made list of what they should study.

"Huh. You really know your stuff," Nicolus said. "When did you...?"

"Probably frittered away less time drinking," Sire Nurea muttered.

"Frittered my ti—hey, that's called building social capital. It's useful."

"Only if they become useful. And judging by your friends' grades...."

"Ouch," Nicolus said. "Anyways, that... huh, that cuts short our session."

Xipuatl shrugged. "Fine by me."

As they were leaving, though, Mirian said in a low voice to Xipuatl, "Hey, actually, can I talk to you about something?"

"This is one of those rhetorical questions where my response doesn't matter, yes?"

"Yeah," Mirian said. "You know soul magic, right?"

Xipuatl went still and looked at her. Nicolus and Nurea departed, and it was just the two of them in the study room.

Mirian continued. "That was also a rhetorical question. Listen—can you teach me?"

Xipuatl kept staring at her. Finally, he said, "Hypothetically, if you were right, what would I gain? Besides exposure to criminal heresy charges."

"A research partner. You think Baracuel's arcanists are a tier below your nagual. That our researches are missing key information. I can help you prove it, but only if you teach me the basics."

"Who's your source?"

"I overhear things," she said, because saying 'you are' would lead to too many questions.

The other student ground his jaw lightly, still considering Mirian. As before, she knew he wanted to work on his theory, but she'd also moved a lot faster than she normally did, and he was understandably cautious.

"I don't need a research partner," he finally said, and closed the buckle on his bag. He put on his cloak and headed for the door.

"Did you get into Arcane Mathematics with Professor Jei?" she asked.

Xipuatl paused at the door, then turned.

"I did. You need a mathematician. That's me. I just want the basics." It was her best in. Offering money to Xipuatl would be silly. Despite her credit from Tower Trust and the stolen coins from the spy, her finances still paled compared to someone in the nobility, even with a minor family like the Yanez. Xipuatl hadn't moved from the door, so Mirian opened up her notebook. "This is my cartography device design. Here's the four dimensional arrays we're using to calculate true mana paths. Here's my notes from calculus—that was my second year here."

Xipuatl closed the door and sat down. "You've certainly been hiding in the shadows. I'd never even heard your name before Nicolus told me about you. Said you were some sort of 'weird little genius in alchemistry.' Then it turns out you've already read half of the spell engine books we were planning on dividing up."

Mirian scoffed. "I'm no genius. But I work hard, and I don't give up."

"That's more valuable than intelligence. But better still if combined. What are you willing to commit to?"

"I can build or modify detectors, or any device you need. Unless they have something super expensive, I can finance them myself. And I'm... well, I'm skeptical. But I'm willing to listen. And I never stop learning."

He stood again, then paced around the room. He wanted to—Mirian could tell. "I need time to think," he said. "Talk to me tomorrow."

Well, it wasn't a 'no.' She could live with that.

***

The next day, Mirian snuck in a few questions about miniaturizing glyphs in Artifice Design. Torres briefly diagrammed the mechanical devices needed, which Mirian enthusiastically jotted down. One type was purely mechanical, and like a primitive printing press, only could draw one glyph at a time. The newer kinds mimicked the movement of a person's hand by reading their actions and then reducing the force-output applied to a small pen inside the device. Of course, an arcanist was still needed to operate the device to get good mana flow. The attempts to create automatic glyph scribing machines using spell engines failed because the engines were incredibly wasteful, and the entropic mana radiating off the device damaged the glyphs as they were being scribed. Mirian was pleased to note that the devices used similar principles to her cartography device that was currently languishing in the catacombs.

Mirian frowned. "Not much," she admitted. Most of it was suspicions, and the rest of it things from past loops. "Celestial magic—ah, soul magic, that is—I know the priests use it. I've always been fascinated by it, but I've never used it."

"The first thing you need is a focus," Xipuatl said. "It's like an arcane catalyst." He went over to the far wall.

"Luminate priests don't use a focus," Mirian said.

"Yeah they do. Their holy symbol. The engraved amulets they all have that they wear beneath their shirts. They try to be subtle about it, but they need them just as surely as an arcanist needs their own tools."

That made sense to Mirian, but she was stuck on the why? Why hide it?

"Foci are harder to get than arcane catalysts. They don't just come from magical beasts. There's a reason the Order is protective of theirs. This one belongs to my family," he said, and drew a jade relic from the wall. He had reached through the stone, and Mirian realized there was a persistent illusion hiding a recessed shelf. Clever. The jade relic was carved to resemble some kind of bird, though one she'd never seen before. Its wings were splayed wide, but outlining it were flames, as if it had caught fire. Along the body, it looked like they were glyphs, though like none that Mirian had ever seen.

"Runes," he said.

"The holy language of the Luminate Order. Only—you have them too." So he hadn't been lying about that last cycle. Tlaxhuaco knows them. Does the Order know?

"Does that bother you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's... curious. It seems like all I run into these days is more mysteries. As soon as one thing makes sense, two more don't."

"Oh?"

Mirian sighed. "It would take too long to explain. So... how do the foci work?"

"A focus needs to be made out of one of the Elder reliquaries, then carved with the right runes to function. The runes are different for each holy material."

"The Elder reliquaries?" She'd never heard that term before.

"It's... hmm. I don't think it translates right from Tlaxa—I think the Order calls it something else, but that's just another of the secrets they keep."

"So... that's not mundane jade, is it?"

"No. It's irreplaceable. Suffice to say, it will not be leaving this room, and you are sworn to secrecy. Please hold out your pinky finger."

"Why do I have—oh right." The drop of blood. Mirian winced at the slight prick of Xipuatl's thin knife. She watched him place the drop in a glass vial with a careful collect liquid spell, then place the vial in his jacket pocket.

"The meditation practices we used in our first year that allow us to sense and tap into our auric mana will work, but your mind's eye must be directed with more scrutiny. To see your soul, you must see yourself. Self-deception will hinder your sight. When first starting out, there is a dance I learned that helps you get in touch with your body, so we will start there."

"A dance?" Mirian said, skeptical.

"A dance," Xipuatl said. "It has been preserved from time immemorial. Pre-Cataclysm, according to the stories. Once we have done it, I will guide you through the breathing and self-reflection exercises that will start to bring your soul into focus. It will probably take several days before you can even begin to see the outlines of it."

Mirian nodded.

Xipuatl was a good teacher. There were seventeen forms in all, linked by sixteen movements. Several of the forms she'd actually used in the martial practices they used to warm up for dueling, and she found it was easy to subsume her conscious thoughts into growing silent as she delved into the rhythm and physicality of the exercise. Unlike the lessons Mirian was giving Selesia, there was no undercurrent flowing beneath the instruction. Xipuatl was serious, and his eyes stayed analytical as he watched her for mistakes.

By the end of it, Mirian could feel her pulse echoing within herself, reaching from her fingertips to her toes. Then Xipuatl handed her the jade focus to hold. The stone had a strange feel to it, like it was neither hot nor cold. Then, he guided her in reflection, his voice soothing and steady. She felt her heart calming, and she looked within. In the periphery of her mind's eye, she first saw the four distant beacons—the stelae in the room, she knew. Within that square, she could see the faint flow of her aura, moving like smoke on a windy day. Always before, there had been nothing within that. She tried, as Xipuatl directed, to look through the focus, and found that she slipped into it as easily as a warm bath. Xipuatl's voice faded in her ears, and it was like she was hearing another voice, older and deeper, with a faint echo—so familiar, but where she'd heard it slipped around the edges of her mind. Look deeper, Mirian, holding onto the focus... holding onto yourself....

Within her was a flow, but unlike the tempestuous sky of an aura, this was the tight swirls of magma. The currents swirled into themselves, and even as they radiated a dangerous heat, there was a viscosity to it that spoke of resilience—and yet, it was still liquid. I am not static, like a stone at rest. If I am to see myself, I must see that I am always changing, always moving. The soul is not water that can be locked in a jar, but the current of a river that is defined by its movement.

And there it was, she realized—her soul. She could not see the totality of it as an outsider, but here, within herself, she could feel it as it stirred within her. Only—there was something wrong. Or not wrong, but strange—there was a place where the currents never went, a place by her heart that thrummed along with her soul, but was empty. A void, she thought at first, but no, it wasn't empty. There was something there, within her.

She emerged from the trance with a start, heart racing.

"Good—" Xipuatl started to say, then he saw her expression. "What's wrong?"

"I... I don't know," she said. "There's something else in my soul."