Storytime ends early. The priest clears the congregation from the Church, reluctantly awarding his disturbance with time alone to the Hourglass. Leaning against the podium, I watch it in silence for a while.

I can sense the presence of the king and Ivans approaching me, but they choose not to break the silence that has fallen over the audience hall. There is still white noise, of course. Distantly, on the other levels of the Church as well as with the throngs of people outside. But, as I stare at the Hourglass, the rest of the world feels suspended on a separate plane of existence.

Beneath the black beads, thin red vines coil around and stretch across the golden frame like veins. The purple sands shift and breathe, pulsing gently with the rhythm of a heartbeat. Something about it feels nostalgic, but no matter how far I thread my memories, how carefully I peruse and sort through them, the answer stubbornly refuses to give.

A part of me itches to remove the black beads, but I refrain at the last moment and instead turn back to the king.

“This is bad,” he mumbles to himself, staring wide-eyed at the hourglass. “Terrible.”

Synchronization with the Hyrarkel Hourglass complete. Please assign permission settings through the menu.

“Hmm?”

Cocking my head to the side, I remove my phone from my pocket. Powering the device on, I read over the options briefly and select one on a whim. Suddenly, a digital countdown appears in my periphery.

Terrible, indeed. Elleven’s wife won’t be able to appreciate their anniversary together.

“Huh? A phone?” A new voice remarks in surprise, catching the attention of all three of us. Standing in the door separating the Hourglass from the rest of the church with an ornate bow looped across his back, a boy clad in leather armour scrutinizes the object in my hand with a confused pucker to his lips.

Slipping my phone back into its pocket, I fold my arms over each other. “Arty.”

The purse from the king is brandished in his palms, significantly depleted from when it was first given to him. A glance at the other members of his party, decked out in significantly more expensive armour than himself and wearing a plethora of accessories, hints to the direct cause.

One, wearing chest armour akin to a muscle shirt and eight silver and gold bracelets along the length of one arm, shoots Arty a crippling glare at his outburst. Driving his dominance home, he loops an arm over the cowering Hero.

“What a coincidence!” he drawls, gushing with an overabundance of false enthusiasm. “Two Heroes visiting the Hourglass at the same time? Isn’t that something?”

Arty blushes, embarrassed.

“Pleasure to meet you! I’m Doran, the tough one.”

My gaze flicks briefly to the king. Unperturbed at the lack of recognition. Deeply troubled by the paperwork he has at the castle and the constantly rearranged schedule.

“Acquaintances of yours?” the man continues. Either genuinely oblivious or pretending. “They don’t appear to be part of your team.”

“What makes you say that?” I say, taking the bite.

He holds up his hand, revealing what appears to be a black circle with an arrow and bow etched within it. “We got these when we became official. Seems to be some form of magical contract, I think. Now we can kind of sense each other’s locations from wherever we happen to be.”

Another branding. An invasive one, at that.

Deliberately offering a soft smile to his explanation, my fingers drum against my arm. “A magical contract, you say? Isn’t that something? However, I must confess I’m amazed you agreed to take on such burden and responsibility. Especially when there’s little reward to be had.”

That stumbles his arrogance. His smile falters, as though he is only just starting to realize the implication behind his contract.

“Behave,” the king warns under his breath. There is no malice in his tone, but it is warning. Ivans nibbles on a pastry, still glum from earlier.

“You’re here to see the Hourglass, right? We’ll be on our way then.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure.” Doran stumbles awkwardly. Arty, on the other hand, simply nods in meek agreeance. It seems every master has its methods to keep their pawns in view.

Acquiescing the room to Arty and his team, I exit the church deeply immersed in thought.

A sudden fatigue catches me by surprise, dragging my knees to the street. As the wave of dizziness washes over me, I feel my breathing grow ragged and hearing dull. A pressure settles upon my shoulder. The dizziness slowly abates, stabilizing me.

When I can recognize the stone again, I blink away the blurriness and glance up. Ivans is holding my shoulder, a firm line to his lips. King Aldrainian, in an instant of uncharacteristic vulnerability, watches me with a conflicted expression.

The expression passes quickly.

“I knew this would happen.”

At the same time, a gentle smell wafts through my nose and rouses my appetite anxiously. Mouth wet with anticipation, I part my lips to devour the sweet morsel just within reach.

The fingers curl out of reach before my tongue can lap up the jam, waking me from the daze.

That was stronger than anticipated.

Ivans washes his hands, reaches into his robes, and procures another pastry. He passes it to me, then grabs another for himself.

“Warn me the next time you decide to experiment with your limitations. You better not do that at the Wave.”

I tuck into the pastry, chew, and swallow. “I was curious.”

“Curious?”

Lifting my fingers to his forehead, I massage his hot, feverish temple. “Curious,” I repeat without elaboration.

He leans back, out of reach of my hand. “Don’t be stupid,” he mutters, avoiding my eyes.

“Well,” the king interjects, his dry sarcasm returning at full force. “This is wonderful, but I have a shitload of work to take care of at the castle. Apparently, we’re operating on half the deadline I thought we were.”

I get up from the stone, dust off my clothes, and offer the king my hand. He scoffs and pushes ahead, setting a quick march back to the castle. After drop-off, Ivans turns to me.

“So, what’s your plan?”

I grab my wand and thrum it against my palm. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“I could use your help with a few errands, then.”

He eyes the wand skeptically.

“First, where are the records of the Summoned?”

“That wasn’t what I was expecting to hear.”

“You heard the king. Not much time before the wave.”

He purses his lips, debating over my words. He knows there’s more to them, especially with my hint, but hasn’t quite connected the dots. Escorting me into the castle, we navigate to the library through a handful of shortcuts I recognize and a few I don’t.

Reginaldis jerks up at seeing me, a map sprawled over the bench with various texts scattered about to the disgruntlement of his peers.

“Ryan!”

“Any luck?”

He gestures to the map, highlighting a specific point not too far from the king’s afore-mentioned garrison. Ivans stiffens up immediately. “Right here. Best as I could tell, this was the radius.”

“About two and a half bells’, huh?” I glance at Ivans, who refuses to answer or lend a thought. “If that’s what we’re working with, then we best hope more soldiers are willing to volunteer than I’m fearing.”

“What of the Heroes?” Reginaldis asks, unintentionally revealing his trust in them. He’s been careful of mentioning anything to date on my behalf, but still believes like most of the citizens in the gospel of the Church.

“They have their own intentions,” I say simply. It isn’t worth the argument right now. “Their priority will be on stopping the wave.”

He nods. Sits back down. “I’ll keep you updated on the rest of your requests.”

“Thank you.”

I motion for Ivans to continue. We reach the back of one of the walls of the library. There are fewer people at this section, but Ivans still awards care in opening up the passageway.

“That information is useless,” he mutters, almost to himself.

“In what way?”

He startles. “The books are through here,” he distracts instead, gesturing down the passageway he just opened.

I size him up. He squirms, reaches for a pastry, and stops. Fingers stretching and twitching, he bites his lip.

“Will I find the answer in there?”

He says nothing, nibbling his lip harder. I turn my head and dip into the passageway to a roll of shelves. Appraising the records of all the Summonds, I slip a page from my satchel and lay it on the lone table with a pen.

Two hours. Best get this done quickly.

…

A hop, a skip, and a jump.

With a graceful leap backwards over the gate only an inch above my own head, I slip my wand from its sheath to prime it at the ground rushing towards me. Flicking it in a swift motion, I inscribe the spell into the air and pass through it with ease. Rolling to a stop, I pivot to the door.

“Ready?”

Hearing his confirmation, I begin etching the semi-circle into the ground, mindful to match his pace throughout the entire process. Completing the preparations the same instant as his own, I release the breath I had been holding and flop onto my ass.

“Limit?”

Drawn to the voice before me, I note the cookie crunching between his teeth.

“Not quite,” I answer sleepily, dropping to rest my back against the hardwood. Raising my palm to shadow my face from the bright gem in the ceiling, my gaze naturally flits to the branding innocently concealed just beneath the sleeve of my dress shirt. “Close enough.”

He nods, satisfied. “At least you’re starting to learn not to push yourself. Spacial magic isn’t to be messed with.”

“You think it’ll work? The plan?”

He sighs, then shakes his head. “Who knows? This may all be wasted effort, when it comes time. At the very least, you’ll have gathered information for your little experiment, and the rest of us will have to settle for one of your backups. Snack?”

Another chuckle slips out, leading me to roll onto my side to stare at him. Extending my hand out palm up, I watch him respond as I intended and offer a cookie to me. “You don’t sound so concerned.” I tease, snapping off the tip of the sweet into my mouth.

He shrugs. “For better or worse, you always seem to have the pieces put together. It’s pretty much the only thing I can trust with you.”

“That so?”

Nodding, he pulls out another cookie to inspect. After a pause, he pops it between his lips, chews, swallows, and continues talking. “Regardless of what the rest of us do or say, you have already figured out exactly how to get what you want. Hardly fair, when you think about it.”

Polishing off the treat, I pluck myself back to my feet and dust off my clothes. “Alright then. Ready for the last stop?”

“You sure about this?”

A smile paints itself over my lips. “Yep. Sooner we get this finished; the sooner you can get some rest and recover your magic for the big event. You are our most important Anchor after all.”

“That’s not what I–!”

My chuckle interrupts his retort, granting him pause. He folds his arms, unimpressed.

Stretching forth my hand to brush the crumbs from his lip, I smirk at him to reveal my tease. “I know. Call it a hunch of mine.”

He sighs. “Very well.”

And with a wave of his wand, we have arrived.

Sommersen village. The place that once bordered the edge of the King’s barrier. Strong enough to keep out even undesired weather, it was aptly named to be “summer’s end”. Now, however, it is merely one of the many towns and cities leading up to the capital city along a well paved road, forgotten of its original purpose.

Such is the craftings of history.

Pulling out a bag of jerky, Ivans drifts off to explore the town for a suitable gateway. Thin smile upon my lips, I turn in the opposite direction to do the same.

Mulling alone to my thoughts, I wander through the streets beneath the midday sun. A certain individual, however, attracts my attention away from myself.

“Doctor.”

The pharmacist stops, the bag tucked beneath his arm forgotten to the amicable smile on my countenance. Warming to my unannounced appearance, he waits for me to join his path.

“What a surprise. I hadn’t expected to see you so soon.”

I shrug. “Just taking care of a few last preparations. Running deliveries?”

“Ah… yes. Thank you again for last time. If not for you, I would have been forced to order those ingredients at cost.”

“My pleasure. It was a good exercise of my abilities.”

Sensing Ivans’ presence, I turn my head to face him. He nods, falling into step at my side and leaning in to whisper next to my ear. “I’ve found it, but there is a problem…” He flicks a meaningful glance towards the pharmacist.

Dipping my head in acknowledgement, I flash a smile at the man. “Speaking of favours, would you mind if I request one of you?”

“If it is within my abilities, I see no reason why not.”

Handing off the medicine to his patient, we begin the return to his house. Ivans trailing along behind us munching on a snack between his fingers, I proceed with the explanation of our intentions and the reason behind his required assistance. By the time we arrive at the door, he has wholeheartedly agreed to the plan and readily opens the door to our entrance. As I step through, Ivans gives me a look for my eyes alone. An unimpressed expression of I told you so.

Thin smile flitting over my lips, I choose to refrain from comment. Once this is complete, there are just two items left on the list.