The tower chamber still smelled faintly of old parchment, ink, and ozone from a spell gone awry years ago. Rafael stood at the center, a sprawling, arcane map spread across the table before him.
Faint runes pulsed gently along its surface, responding to his touch. Around him, four others watched with various degrees of skepticism and interest. They weren't a team yet, but Rafael's efforts had thrown them together again.
Trust was a fickle thing. Though they'd agreed to meet, Rafael could feel the undercurrent of tension in the room. Their faith in him was brittle, held together by curiosity, suspicion, a glimpse of unknown memory, or perhaps a shared, inexplicable sense of urgency.
He leaned forward, finger tracing along the etched leyline routes and Rift loci. "Three months. That's the best-case scenario before the first breach. It won't start here—it never does. But when it hits, there won't be a warning. Just blood and ash."
Kelan scoffed. "You sound like you want to scare us."
"I don't want anything," Rafael replied calmly. "But you should be scared. Like I did some deaths ago."
Mira, eyes sharp behind her glasses, studied the map intently. "These coordinates... this distortion. No one in the academy even studies anomalies like these. Not at our level. Where did you get this?"
Rafael hesitated. A beat too long.
Lira answered for him. "He's not guessing. I've seen the way he moves, the way he mapped everything. He's not learning, he's remembering."
"Partially," Rafael added.
Juno chuckled, arms crossed as she lounged on a windowsill, her boot resting against the stone wall. "Creepy prophecy boy here has the vibe of someone who peeked at tomorrow's newspaper and came back to bet on the winners. But fine. You've got my attention."
Rafael gave a weary smile. "I don't need blind belief. Just your cooperation. We start tomorrow. With training, synchronizing, and prepping the first expedition. We need to scout the Whispering Hollow. There's something buried beneath it. A seal. Two deaths ago, it broke too early. This time, we reinforce it."
Kelan frowned. "You're dragging us to a cursed forest?"
"Only mildly cursed," Juno muttered, picking her nails with a dagger.
Mira ignored them. "I'll need field analysis tools. Can we requisition gear from the Arcana department without raising suspicion?"
"I know who to bribe," Lira said dryly.
Despite their doubts, the group began to shift into motion, disbelief softening into cautious intrigue. Rafael watched them, trying to ignore the echo of past failures: Lira dying impaled through the spine, Mira torn apart by leyline backlash, Kelan vanishing mid-battle and being forgotten instantly. Juno...
He clenched his fist.
Not this time.
***
By the next morning, Rafael had slipped into his role with chilling precision. He remembered the weak links, the poor decisions. This reboot, this loop, he would do better. He had to do better.
The Whispering Hollow lay a three-day march to the south. Rafael chose not to use portals—it was too soon to attract the attention of the High Mages or the Chronoguard.
The forest pulsed with ancient energy, and they traveled by foot, masked as an advanced magical ecology expedition.
Despite their friction, the group began to settle. Mira and Juno shared snippets of arcane theory and sarcasm in equal measure, surprising everyone with how well they clicked.
Kelan sparred with Lira in every clearing they camped in, their clashes echoing through the trees, raw magic against graceful strikes. Even Rafael found moments of unexpected warmth in their company.
On the first night, Juno snuck into the food rations and replaced Kelan's spice pouch with powdered foxglove. The resulting coughing fit nearly had Mira rolling on the ground with laughter. Kelan swore vengeance, but his eyes sparkled with life Rafael hadn't seen in years.
The second day brought them deeper into unfamiliar territory. Trees grew twisted and tall, casting looming shadows even at noon. Strange whispers tickled the edges of their minds. Remnants of old enchantments or perhaps warnings.
Rafael walked in front, magical glyph glowing faintly, suppressing most of the ambient enchantment.
That night, around a carefully contained fire, the group grew quiet.
Juno stared into the flames. "You really think this seal matters?"
Rafael nodded. "It's not just a seal. It's a gate. And behind it is something that wakes with every cycle, hungrier each time. If we delay too long, it won't wait to be freed—it'll break out."
Lira's voice was low. "And you've seen it?"
"I've lived it," Rafael said. "It eats cities. Worlds. It leaves nothing but screams and dust."
For a moment, the fire popped, sending sparks skyward like dying stars.
Mira finally broke the silence. "Then we stop it. That's what we're here for, right? To witness whether you lied to our face or not."
Rafael looked at her, then at the others. Mira, the scholar with blood on her hands. Kelan, the warrior who had died protecting a collapsing gate. Juno, the unpredictable storm who'd once turned on them at the worst moment, the one who'll warm his existence. And Lira, whose loyalty had cost her everything.
He gave a slow nod. "You'll gonna witness what I'm talking abiut this entire time. And this time around, we finish it before something bad really happen."
***
Later, as the fire burned low and the others dozed in scattered blankets and protective wards, Lira approached him again.
"Still think we're ready?" she whispered.
Rafael didn't answer immediately. He looked at the others—Mira clutching a runestone in her sleep, Juno curled like a lazy cat near the embers, Kelan snoring faintly with a blade across his chest.
He met Lira's eyes. "Closer than I've ever been."
She glanced skyward. "Then let's not waste this loop."
Rafael followed her gaze to the stars, dim behind the canopy. The apocalypse burned behind his eyes. But for the first time in what felt like centuries, hope flickered. Not just in the fire, but in the people gathered around it.
***