My thoughts drift to Kumari. Saskia told me a few weeks ago that she had a lead, but I didn’t dare press her about it. Somewhere deep down, I knew that if there were any developments, I would be the first to hear about them… Of that, I could be certain. I just had to be patient and let time take its course.

Even if, deep down, patience has never really been my strong suit…

Time is strange, anyway. Sometimes it feels like it stretches, like it drags its feet, taking its sweet time. Other times it’s the exact opposite: it flashes by like lightning, and the moments that pass leave you wanting more. One blink, and the sand has run through the hourglass. One blink, and the moment has burst like a bubble.

While daydreaming, I watch the clusters formed by the small islands around my position. With a bit of extrapolation, I can guess their trajectory over the years: a slow drift that pulls them farther apart, wearing them down, crumbling them bit by bit. From peninsula to archipelago; from atoll to scattered rocks… Entropy at work, in a way—or at least in full swing.

I leap toward another ledge, floating through the air thanks to the aerolith canister strapped to my back. I conjure a few impulses and air currents to adjust my trajectory, helping Taru as best I can while he propels me forward with undulating tentacles. His cheeks are flushed with effort—about as much as an octopus’s cheeks can be. His eyes dart left and right, alert.

Yes, I know. If we see a giant eel, we run…

My foot touches the rock. I hop awkwardly to keep from being swept away, find a grip, and anchor myself. I unfold the map and check it while Taru climbs up my back using the strength of his suckers before settling on my shoulder. That’s it. I’m not far now.

Ahead of me, between vertiginous cliffs that plunge straight down into the clouds, I see what remains of a cyclopean statue, as though it were staring at me with hollow eyes. Its face looks rather young, unlike the previous idol I found, even though a deep crack scars its forehead and cheek. The sculpture is crowned with a winged helmet, and it once held something in its hands—though that’s hard to tell now, since those hands were probably sheared off long ago by time, violent impacts, or the raging elements of the region.

Yes, Taru. Or a giant eel.

He was right. Alelo didn’t like people wandering through its territory, and I didn’t really see myself explaining to the monster that my visit wasn’t threatening, that it was purely for archaeological purposes. Like the Moths, the eel—or moray—had the ability to shift between the material and the immaterial. According to some accounts, the Leviathan had even been seen tearing a hole in reality and slipping through it before reappearing somewhere else. Was its lair a pocket formed in a swelling of the Veil, like the Underside our Faction—well, mostly the Qorgan—used to store anything a little too… problematic? It was possible. I stroke my Chimera’s slimy forehead.

But for now, nothing in sight. No reason to worry.

I summon my Irises and look carefully toward the monumental figure, trying to catch residual ideas embedded in the stone. Was it an allegory? An object of worship? The concepts I detect appear like ink stains on blotting paper. Too faint. Too diluted to identify properly. Hmm. Let’s see. "Lie"? Or "Message"? I sigh. Too hard to say for certain.

In any case, it’s clear that some form of Alteration or artifice was used to create them. Their surfaces were originally far too smooth and perfect, and their size far too massive to have been the work of simple hammers and chisels. There’s almost something organic about their design.

I activate the beacon Sierra gave me before I left and sit against the rock wall, as sheltered as possible from the wind that howls through the pass in uncomfortable gusts. Now all that’s left to do is wait. Logically, Waru should respond. He’s the one most interested in these ruins. Unless Saskia happens to be nearby… Last I heard, she had been asked to set up on Zaratan’s back, in order to—

A slimy appendage sticks to my nose. I snap out of it.

Yes, I know. I shouldn’t let my mind wander.

But it isn’t something I could hide from Taru anyway. He knows perfectly well that I think about her often. About the focused look she gets when she works. About her smile when we talk in the evening, or over a meal. About those intense, unsettling eyes… Suddenly I feel my cheeks warming. It’s like a magnet—my thoughts keep circling back to her.

Like a waltz, they spin and spin and spin.

‘What did I teach you, young lady? To manipulate time, you must first learn to remain in the present.’

His robe flutters in the wind while his hands remain tucked inside the wide sleeves of his gold-trimmed tunic. My eyes widen, and then I end up smiling at his appearance. I give a little bow that is both courteous and irreverent.

‘Dear Master.’

Kuwat clicks his tongue.

‘Insolent, as always.’

‘I plead guilty. But what brings you here, Magister?’

He studies me thoughtfully.

‘Do you remember what I taught you about the nature of time?’

I make a small face, realizing my reflections may have summoned him.

‘Linear and continuous time; cyclical time; and then the instant.’

‘Three forms of eternity. But it’s the third one I want to discuss. Kairos. The decisive moment. One of them is approaching fast.’

‘Then I’ll grab it by the hair.’

He nods.

‘It’s no coincidence that I taught you this discipline rather than any other.’

‘You always told me there was no such thing as coincidence.’

I hold his gaze and decide it’s a good moment to ask.

‘The Sap. That’s what you used to make me drink, right? The thing that changed the color of my eyes. That wasn’t a coincidence either, was it?’

He says nothing—but he doesn’t deny it either. Which I clearly take as confirmation. I end up sticking my tongue out at him.

‘Fine, keep your secrets! You never wanted to tell me about Ayxas, even though Sig could really use the information!’

The corner of his lips curls into an arrogant smirk.

‘My dear Kesh, I am only an Eidolon born from your thoughts. I cannot know what you yourself do not know.’

Suddenly he turns toward the rock a few steps away. His eyes narrow and his expression fades. Then his face snaps back toward me, alarm in his gaze.

I cover myself in Seals—and it’s a good thing I do. The stone suddenly explodes and shatters as debris slams into the magical shields I conjured by reflex. The blast hits Vasanti, whose texture tears apart before vanishing like mist in a gust of wind. The entire cliff fractures, splitting with cracks. Then the whole islet collapses like a landslide. No. Like it was struck head-on by something far denser.

Time is strange, when you think about it. Does it exist outside our consciousness? Most of the time, it’s simply a matter of perception. Saskia once told me that brain chemistry alters the way organisms perceive time. Under stress, or when the mind is racing, exposed to a multitude of stimuli, the brain records fewer things—and time seems shorter. But I also know now that time—or at least the idea of it—can be manipulated. It isn’t absolute. It’s all about reference frames: define a closed one, small enough to avoid creating obvious paradoxes. And nudge it.

I’ve already managed, within a small temporal bubble, to accelerate time for a Moth before returning it to the natural flow, like a fish placed back into a river’s current. It drastically shortened its lifespan, but without affecting anything around it. Maybe that was due to the Moth’s immaterial nature. Long ago, at the Kadigir, I tried the same thing with inanimate objects. Aside from a limited exposure to entropy, nothing dramatic happened. The two flows eventually harmonized again. That was about it.

There were many possible explanations, of course. The existence of fate. That my manipulations were already part of the pattern, that it was always meant for me to do them. Or that time itself is relative—that there is no continuum in the world beyond what consciousness perceives. That it’s all an illusion.

Stay in the present, Kesh.

The reasons don’t matter. I’m creating a bubble for Taru and me. Blocks of stone drift slowly in my eyes, crowned with plumes of dust, though in reality they’re moving with furious speed. We slip between fragments breaking apart, and Taru inflates his tentacles to push debris aside, suspended in the air. My attention is entirely focused on what caused all this chaos. I try to spot it between the rocks spinning in slow motion, between thick sheets of smoke.

I don’t wait to see my enemy before conjuring my stars. They bloom in my wake like luminous flowers. As I propel myself forward, they animate behind me on their own, turning into arrows—bright lines that streak and curve, threading their way through the avalanche of stone. I’m not holding back. With a blast like that, it definitely wasn’t some tiny bird that caused all this. Dozens and dozens of streaks ignite the air and coil through it.

Finally I catch a glimpse of it. A humanoid figure, slender, almost graceful. It wears geometric armor that reveals no flesh. Maybe there isn’t any flesh beneath that metal shell at all. I feel its entire substance writhing with the spasms of the Tumult. Its ringed cuirass, traced with concentric striations, absorbs my blazing needles without flinching. A Tumult creature sensed my presence, it seems—or Kuwat’s. Did it come from beneath the clouds? Was it waiting here, drawn by the powerful concepts within the statue? Just my luck.

I call upon my Irises to find a weakness to exploit…