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The next morning, Vim, Ptem, and Adhlea put on their nicest outfits and headed towards the Lucid Bastion. Lark accompanied them, dressed in her usual beaten and bloodstained leather armour.

The bastion’s grey quartz spires cut a daunting silhouette, illuminated by lanterns emitting a soft green glow. When Vim presented the Bright Queen’s summons, the palace guards waved them in. Stepping through the doors and into the antechamber, Vim removed his darkvision glasses.

The walls inside the palace arched to a point at the top, and luminous blue orbs hung from sconces in the ceiling, shedding ethereal light through the halls. The party passed through the antechamber, where a small fountain with three metallic cups resting on its lip stood in the centre of the room.

An attendant opened the doors to the throne room and ushered the party through. Queen Leylas sat in a throne up a shallow flight of stairs, flanked by a drow and a goblin on her left, and the shadowhand and a half-orc on her right. The party knelt until the queen told them they could sit on the bench in front of the dias.

“It is good to see you this morning,” Queen Leylas said. “We have had a chance to review your paperwork and you have had an interesting journey.

“We are establishing a committee to investigate the temporal disturbances in the Dungeon of Penance yesterday,” she continued. “Our most trusted councillor, Skysybil Abrianna Mirimm, will lead the investigation.” The queen gestured to the goblin woman on her right, who waved at the party.

Hearing this, the shadowhand’s purple eyes flared with anger, but he quickly calmed his expression and leaned back in his chair. He wanted to lead, Ptem realized.

The queen asked the party to confirm that they were at war with the Chronurgy Council and how many timelines they had each visited. 

“I’ve only been to this one and the Feywild, if it counts as a different timeline. Adhlea has been in two, Ptemfuzhi has been in three, and Larkspur has never visited another, unless yesterday’s incident counts,” Vim said.

The queen hummed contemplatively and asked to see the items the party had obtained from the Chronurgy Council thus far. Vim handed her the probes they’d found in the Dreemoth Ravine, and looked to Ptem to handle the spellbooks.

“I have their spellbooks as well,” Ptem began, fidgeting with the clasp on her cloak. “But, we discussed yesterday that you’d possibly release my friend from the Dungeon of Penance if I gave them to you?”

“Yes, we are amenable to this exchange,” the queen said. “We will also return the books when we have read them. Shadowhand, how long will your analysis take?”

“I can finish it today,” the shadowhand said. He folded his arms and looked down his nose at the party.

“Ptemfuzhi, are you okay with that?” Vim asked.

“Yes, that’s fine,” Ptem said. If all she had to do was let the queen and her council borrow the spellbooks, he’d give them as long as they wanted if it meant Djemari could leave the dungeon unharmed. She pulled the books out of her bag to stack them neatly in front of him, only for a goblin attendant to load them into a small wooden trunk. The goblin carried the box to the shadowhand and laid it at his feet.

“Of course, you will need to stay in Rosohna so you can collect your books, and so Skysibil Mirimm can interview you for the investigation,” the queen said. “And, should the Chronurgy Council be a larger obstacle than previously estimated, we could perhaps assist you.”

“We’d be grateful for any assistance you’d be willing to offer,” Vim said. “And once the council is dealt with, we’d be interested in input from you or your experts on the governance of chronurgy magic. The Chronurgy Council once served a vital function, though it seems they’ve lost their way. I’m sure you’d agree that allowing mages to experiment with time-altering magic unregulated is a recipe for disaster. Your people have studied chronurgy magic more extensively than anyone in this timeline so far as I’m aware, have figured out how to do so responsibly. We’d value your expertise.”

“Here, chronurgy is inextricably related to dunamis, and it will prove challenging to separate it from graviturgy, the other major discipline within that,” she explained.

“I understand,” Vim said. “I have no interest in disrupting your legal system or disrespecting your faith. My bishop and I will appreciate any knowledge or insight you might be willing to provide.”

Queen Leylas sat back in her throne, examining the group. Her eyes stopped on Lark, noting her choice of attire. She hadn’t changed into something befitting a royal audience like the rest of the party had. Even Vim was in his formal priest robes, the heavily embroidered silk cape trailing on the ground behind him.

“Your goddess is interested in law, Brother Mengdivad?” the queen finally asked, her eyes still on Lark.

“Yes, your majesty,” Vim replied. “As am I.”

“We can offer you a copy of the Kryn Dynasty’s legal code,” the Bright Queen said, turning her gaze back on Vim. “Would that be of interest to you?”

“Very much so, your majesty,” Vim said, offering a shallow bow in thanks.

The queen gestured to an attendant, a female bugbear in a fine blue gown holding a thick, leather bound book. The attendant carried the book over to Vim, the fabric of her gown flowing like water as she moved. She placed it in his arms and returned to her post slightly behind and to the left of the throne.

Vim bowed more deeply to the queen, tucking the book under his arm. “Thank you for your generosity, your majesty,” he said.

“See to it that our laws are followed while you are in our empire,” Queen Leylas said in acknowledgement. “Is there anything else you require of us?”

“I’ve read that your empire dates back before the Calamity,” Vim stated. “Do you know anything of Chronos? He seems to have been largely removed from religious texts dating since the Divergence.”

“Not much,” Queen Leylas said. “We don’t concern ourselves much with the gods of foreigners and do not view what he and his followers do to be true chronurgy magic as it is not of the Luxon. We believe he may either be a betrayer god or a pretender. His paladins are employed shutting down cascading dimensions. I haven’t seen a cascading dimension in many lifetimes so either they are incredibly rare or the paladins have done an excellent job.”

Vim explained the party’s experiences with cascading dimensions in Umar and how Ptem and Djemari managed to find a solution to them that didn’t involve the paladins of Chronos.

“Yes we read Ptemfuzhi’s paper on it,” Queen Leylas said. “We found it quite fascinating. A very elegant solution to the problem at hand.”

Ptem’s cheeks grew warm and she somewhat regretted titling her essay I Fucked Myself and I Liked It . Not that it wasn’t true, but it certainly wasn’t scholarly. Still, the queen had complimented his work, which was something he could be proud of.

“Thank you, your highness,” Ptem said, clasping her hands in front of him.

“Before we agree to any sort of arrangement regarding our assistance with the Chronurgy Council, we must know of your involvement with the Dwendalian Empire,” Queen Leylas continued.

“We have no involvement with the Dwendalian Empire, your majesty,” Vim said. “I was a citizen of Draconia from a family too poor to travel off our island. My government put me on a do not fly list for criticizing their use of slavery and the first time I left Tyriex was when I was sent to Syngorn shortly before the Chroma Conclave attacked.

“Ptemfuzhi and Adhlea are both from completely different timelines. Neither have been on Exandria long and in that time we haven’t visited the Dwendalian Empire. And Larkspur travelled only around Tal’Dorei and the Underdark beneath it.”

Queen Leylas examined Vim and he forced himself to hold her gaze. He felt as if she were staring into his mind to determine the validity of his words. He had not lied and had nothing to hide from her. He feared revealing how uncomfortable he was with her prying would make him appear guilty to her.

“Very well,” the Bright Queen said. “We can send details of how we might help in your war against the Chronurgy Council to your tavern room.” She looked as though she was ready to dismiss the party when Ptem spoke up.

“Um, please forgive my interruption, your majesty, but there is still the matter of my friend imprisoned in the dungeon.” Ptem said, bowing her head. He dared not make eye contact with the queen, but he’d already handed off his spellbooks and she’d promised Djemari that she’d get them out of jail.

“Ah, yes. They are to be released,” Queen Leylas said. She gestured and a pair of armoured drow marched out of the room and returned promptly with Djemari between them.

“See? Told you I wasn’t a spy,” Djemari said to the guards. Both their expressions remained stoic and after a curt nod from the queen, they marched back to their places.

The queen declared their business concluded and the session adjourned. A goblin attendant led the party out of the room.

“Are you all right?” Ptem asked Djemari once they were outside.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Djemari said. “Thanks again for getting me out. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“What will you do now?” Ptem asked.

“I should head back to Rexxentrum to get my own papers,” Djemari said. “Then back here, probably. I’m sure not everyone in this city is as uptight as this lot. I didn’t even get to try out any bars or anything.”

Ptem offered to teleport them back to Rexxentrum but Djemari said they wanted to travel. They’d discovered a taste for it after having finally left Umar. Ptem hugged Djemari goodbye and they parted ways. He hoped he’d see them again before he went back to his timeline.

As the party crossed the Lucid Bastion’s courtyard, the ground shook beneath their feet and Ptem’s vision tunnelled before going completely white. When it cleared, Ptem found himself standing in a cozy living room with a fireplace and several nooks with armchairs. The warm glow of sunset streamed through the windows, and two people who looked to be high elves, a man and a woman, sat on plush armchairs opposite each other, talking in low tones.

Ptem tried to back away slowly, but realized he was holding a tray with a teapot and two delicate cups and saucers. He’d known Adhlea’s family was wealthy, but he hadn’t known that she’d had household staff.

The woman gestured at Ptem expectantly and Ptem scuttled over, set the tray down, and poured two cups. He forced himself to slow down, hoping that her shaking hands wouldn’t spill. Ptem tried to focus on the fruity aroma of the hot tea and the way the steam drifted upwards and glittered in the evening light.

“Thank you, Aymer,” the woman said in a language Ptem recognized as Elvish, but the accent varied in pitch and the vowels were more elongated than he was used to hearing. She was unsure what to do with the half-full teapot, so she reached for it, intending to take it back until they wanted more, but the woman held up her hand and told him to leave it there. With her job seemingly done, Ptem stepped away and went back to her place in the corner, awkwardly holding the empty tray. She gazed out the window at an unfamiliar city, trying to make it look like she wasn’t eavesdropping on the conversation.

The woman leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea, crossing her legs. She tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear and gave the man a stern look, her brown eyes boring into him. “Adhlea informed me of the strangest message. You’re taking her away again. Care to explain yourself?”

“Ah, yes, her other patron has made contact at last. There is nothing more to say. She is pacted to us both and we may assign her small tasks,” her companion replied, a similar lilt in his voice. His calm grey eyes met hers and he laid both his hands on the armrests of his chair.

Sovellis, Ptem realized. One of Adhlea’s archfey patrons.

“You’d call time travel a small task?” the woman snapped. When Sovellis only smiled enigmatically, the woman sighed. “Fine. But can you promise you’ll keep her safe?”

“No,” Sovellis said, pausing to observe the woman’s shock turn to fear, then to anger. “I don’t need to. I promise she can keep herself safe. She is not a child anymore.”

“Don’t be difficult,” the woman said, her teacup clinking emphatically as she placed it in the saucer. “You know what I mean. If something happens to her, can you make sure she’s all right?”

“Oh, trust me, it would take a formidable force indeed to harm her.”

“Will I see her in a reasonable amount of time? You’re talking about different timelines. I don’t want my only daughter to come back older than I am.” 

“Nothing like that, I assure you, it’s just a little temporal anomaly. I am sure it will be fine, and if not, well, myself and Amaria may be able to assist, depending on circumstances,” Sovellis said evenly.

Without warning, the woman turned to Ptem. “Biscuits, please, Aymer,” she ordered, sighing again.

Ptem nodded quickly and found the door opposite where the two were talking. The door opened into a corridor. Looking on either side, he spied a kitchen to the left. It was about the same size as her family’s kitchen, but with significantly more clutter. Fresh herbs hung from baskets above the counters and flowerpots liked the windowsills. The chopping board was scattered with breadcrumbs from a previous meal, and a bowl of fruit sat on one side of the sink. 

Panic rose inside Ptem when he realized he didn’t know where anything was in the house, or whether the woman—Adhlea’s mother—would punish him for taking too long. Ptem started opening cabinets, looking for biscuits. Her parents had kept them in a tin in a cupboard high above the stovetop, so Ptem looked there first. Finding only pots and pans, he tried another cabinet next to a basket of vegetables. When they also weren’t in there, Ptem glanced around the room and her eyes landed on a pantry next to the door where she’d come in. He opened the doors and found a glass jar of assorted biscuits inside.

As Adhlea’s mother hadn’t specified which kind she wanted, whether she wanted enough for her and Sovellis, or just her, and how she expected them to be presented, Ptem debated bringing the whole jar and letting her choose. Too uncouth, Ptem thought. She decided to put a couple of each kind on the largest platter he could find and bring side plates for both of them. 

Ptem went to wash his hands but stopped before he turned the taps on. He didn’t want Adhlea’s mother to hear the water running and think that he was distracted or otherwise inattentive. To avoid touching the food, she quickly cast mage hand, ordering it to arrange a selection of biscuits on a clean plate from the drying rack.

While the hand worked, Ptem considered casting prestidigitation to clean the chopping board and unseen servant to tidy the kitchen, but it occurred to him that, even though Adhlea was adept with magic, her family might not be. Likely, given the state of this room, Ptem thought. He opted to leave it and hurry back with the biscuits. Wordlessly, Ptem laid the plates on the coffee table between Sovellis and Adhlea’s mother, and went back to his place in the corner of the room.

If Adhlea’s mother was displeased with Ptem’s service, she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she piled her plate with biscuits and ate them anxiously, glaring at Sovellis the whole time. He maintained a calm, almost amused expression, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. 

“If anything happens to her, I will kill you myself,” Adhlea’s mother said when she was done, setting her plate on the table.

“You can certainly try,” Sovellis said, his eyes glittering. He waved his hand irreverently and a swirling blue portal opened in the middle of the room. Ptem tried to peer inside but the light was too bright and he had to close his eyes. When she opened them again, she was back with the rest of the party in the Lucid Bastion’s courtyard.

Adhlea found herself in a lush green forest with flowers that changed colours before her eyes. The sky above the trees was pink and purple. She couldn’t tell if it was dawn or dusk. Growling and snarling sounds came from her left and the smell of fresh strawberries wafted on the breeze to her right. She turned to the growling, wanting to investigate the noise.

A flash of blue light appeared before her, coalescing in a familiar-looking pixie. She vaguely recalled meeting them at the Fey Grove in Syngorn but couldn’t recall their name. They’d seemed to know Vim. Maybe this is the Feywild? she thought to herself.

“You don’t want to go that way,” the pixie said. “There’s werewolves. They’re stinky.” The pixie suddenly perked up, “Unless you’re here to help with the werewolves?”

“What’s happening with the werewolves?” Adhlea asked.

“The border dispute,” the pixie said. “The werewolves are trying to claim our territory as theirs. We were here first but they claim they’ve never seen us. Of course they’ve never seen us! We turn invisible when they’re around to protect ourselves. Just because we’re invisible doesn’t mean the land isn’t ours. And they would be able to see it if they had half a brain between them. Also, they’re always so loud, yapping and barking at the moon all the time.”

Definitely the Feywild, Adhlea thought, recalling Vim saying he helped negotiate a peace treaty between a werewolf pack and a clan of pixies.

“What year is it?” she asked, wanting to orient herself.

“Why would I know that?” the pixie scrunched up their nose in disgust. “I don’t pay attention to such nonsense. Come with me. We’ll discuss the dispute.”

“How long have they been here?” Adhlea asked.

“A few turns,” the pixie said. They led Adhlea to a large, hollow tree and flew inside, gesturing for Adhlea to follow. Dozens of colourful lights hovered in the air in front of Adhlea as the tree opened into a branching structure large enough for Adhlea to move around in.

“Here you go,” the blue pixie said, handing Adhlea some papers. “Just sign on this line here and the dispute will be settled.”

Adhlea began reading the contract. It demanded the werewolves and their descendants give up any and all claims to the grove and leave immediately. If they fail to do so, the pixies have the right to force them off the land by any means necessary.

“This is harsh,” Adhlea said. “It also doesn’t give them any time.”

“They’re werewolves,” the pixie shrugged. “They can wander anywhere. That’s how we got into this mess to begin with. They walked into our grove and claimed it as theirs.”

“I doubt they’d accept this,” Adhlea insisted. “And what if they become hostile?”

“Why would they be hostile?” the pixie asked. “They said they’d send us a representative. You’re here. If you sign it, this can all be done and the werewolves can leave.”

Adhlea sighed, realizing that the pixies were trying to pretend she was the werewolves’ delegate in order to trick them into leaving.

“I’m not their representative,” Adhlea said. “I can’t sign this for them.”

“You’re not?” the pixie asked, confused.

“No,” Adhlea said. “I can speak to the werewolves for you but you’ll need to offer a more reasonable contract, or at least give them twenty-four hours notice to leave.”

“But that’s such an arbitrary number,” the pixie whined. “Can’t we make it thirteen?”

“Twenty-four,” Adhlea said. “I might be able to get them to leave in twenty-four. And you’ll need to come with me.”

“I can’t,” the pixie said. “They smell so bad.”

“So bring perfume,” Adhlea said, exasperated. “You want this dispute solved, you have to talk to the werewolves. That’s how this works.”

“Fine,” the pixie whined. “I’ll send Ilstren. You think they’ll sign it if I give them twenty-four hours?”

“Yes,” Adhlea said, though she really had no idea.

“Great,” the pixie said. They handed Adhlea a green gemstone. “Thanks for the legal advice.”

The pixie’s voice faded and Adhlea’s eyes clouded over. When the fog faded, she was back at the Lucid Bastion in the darkness of Xhorhas’ false night.

When the white clouding his vision faded, Vim found himself crouched on a roof with two other figures. One looked to be maybe a human or an elf, the other was short enough to be a gnome or halfling, or perhaps a particularly slender dwarf. Both were wearing black cloaks. It was too dark for him to make out any other details.

“Now give it to me one more time,” the taller one said to the shorter one in Elvish. “What’s the plan?”

“Slip here is dropping from above and using the rope to climb down,“ the shorter one said, gesturing at Vim. “I’m unlocking the back door. You’re at the front watching for people. Slip and me go into the house. I take downstairs. He takes upstairs. We avoid the traps we marked on the blueprints, slit the baron’s throat, toss all the goods in here,” she held up a bag of holding . “We take separate routes back to the hideout and meet Larkspur at dawn for the handover.”

“Good,” the taller one said. “Ready, Slip?”

Vim was not ready to burgle a home or commit murder but he knew while he was on the roof of a building with armed criminals was not the time to object to their actions. He’d have to get away from them before he could make a plan to stop them. He also had no idea where he was. Judging by the skyline and the language spoken, he suspected Syngorn, but he’d need an exact address if he wanted to alert the authorities to the robbery.

“Ready,” he said instead.

Vim grabbed the rope anchored above a hole in the roof and climbed down into an attic. He lit a lamp he found sitting on a crate and surveyed the space. He needed to find paperwork, mail, anything that might have the address on it so he could contact the authorities. He couldn’t find anything, so he doused the lamp and climbed down to the upper floor.

Vim tried not to sneak around. He hoped the noise he made, stepping on every creaking floorboard and “accidentally” bumping into objects would alert the house’s owner of his presence. Sure enough, he wasn’t halfway down the hallway when the door in front of him opened and an elven man in a silk robe holding a lit candle stepped out. He immediately spotted Vim.

Before the man could open his mouth, Vim placed a hand on it and ushered him back into the bedroom.

“Listen very carefully,” Vim said. “There are two other people with me. They’re trying to rob you and kill you. If you don’t scream when I remove my hand from your mouth, I can ensure that won’t happen. Understand?”

The man’s eyes went wide and he nodded his head. Vim removed his hand.

“Do you know who I am?” the man hissed. “You can’t just break into my house.”

“You’re a baron,” Vim said. “Focus, I’m trying to save your life.”

“Not a baron,” the baron said. “I’m the baron. The leader of—”

“Not important,” Vim said. “What is the address of this house?”

The baron gawked at him. “Why do you need to know? How do you not know where you are? You broke into my house.”

“That’s none of your concern,” Vim said. “Answer the question before the burglars come looking for me.”

“Am I being arrested?” the man asked. “Is this a setup? Are you with the wardens?”

“Look, baron, right now your options are give me the address for this building so I can contact the wardens of Syngorn or don’t and the people who brought me here will likely kill me and slit your throat. I’d prefer to not die tonight. I assume you’d prefer the same,” Vim said. “You seem a wealthy man. You must have a lawyer. Whatever you think you might be arrested from—”

“Running a drug cartel,” the baron said. “How did you break into my house and not even know who I am?”

“There’s a hole in your roof,” Vim said. “Your address please.”

The baron finally reluctantly gave Vim his address. Vim cast sending to Tannyl, a warden assigned to him when he was brought to Syngorn the first time. He didn’t know what year it was or if Tannyl would know him so he didn’t give his name. He only said that there was an ongoing burglary and attempted murder at the address and to bring backup.

As Vim finished the spell, the short criminal climbed up the stairs. She was a young halfling woman with blonde hair and a gaunt face. “Why aren’t you slitting his throat, Slip?” she asked, coming towards him and the baron.

Vim reached for the magic Erathis gave him and sent a red mote of light out to the halfling. It coalesced around her in a protective sphere too wide to roll back down the stairs. She wouldn’t be able to harm the baron and no one would be able to harm her so long as Vim’s spell held. He hoped the wardens would arrive quickly.

Just as his spell was beginning to flicker, Vim heard a commotion outside. Wardens slammed open the door and poured into the home, led by Tannyl. They surrounded both the baron and the halfling woman, cuffing them and informing them of their rights.

Some of the wardens rifled through the baron’s belongings as the baron shouted. “How dare you! Unhand me! Don’t you know who I am! You can’t arrest me, I’m Syngorn’s greatest drug lord.”

“Sir,” Vim said, “as a cleric of Erathis, I’d advise you to shut up until your lawyer is present.”

Vim didn’t hear the baron’s response. His vision blurred and clouded over and he was hit with a sudden feeling of vertigo as he was ripped from the past back into the courtyard of the Lucid Bastion.

When the fog cleared, Lark found herself standing in a beautiful hall decorated with stained glass windows, sunshine streaming through them. Grand chandeliers hung above an immaculate marble floor and a heavy silence filled the air. 

A weight clung to Lark’s shoulders and she realized she was wearing a cape. Looking around the room, there were a couple of guards stationed either side of each set of doors, wearing livery she didn’t recognize. 

Before Lark could inspect the scene any further, a halfling woman burst through the double doors closest to her.

“Your majesty,” the halfling panted, “you’re needed in the war room. It’s an urgent meeting with our allies. If you please,” she said, gesturing for Lark to follow her.

Majesty? Lark wondered as she followed the halfling into a corridor lined with portraits of what she guessed were the sovereign’s ancestors. They included people of various ancestries and she couldn’t see any obvious trends or tendencies towards any particular race. If it were Vim’s home, they’d be mostly dragonborn, and if it were Ptem’s, they’d be mostly high elves, so Lark reasoned that Adhlea’s timeline was the most likely.

The halfling stopped outside a plain wooden door and held it open for Lark. The woman then bowed hurriedly and left. Facing Lark was a strange apparition of a high elf with grey eyes and long, dark brown hair streaked with white.

“Your majesty, it is as we feared: they have a superweapon. We suspect it is based on the same one that killed your husband, gods rest him. We also suspect they are close to deployment, which would be disastrous,” the elf said.

“I see, this is very dire indeed,” Lark said, not knowing how to respond. She straightened her posture and folded her arms.

“I do have a suggestion, if I may, your highness,” the elf said.

“You may,” Lark said. She drew on her noble upbringing to muster as much regal bearing as she could. 

“My lead strategic advisor is uniquely skilled. She built the prototypes for our shield deflectors himself and designed the schematics for our weapons. I can have him craft something more destructive and deploy that before they deploy theirs. I don’t know how much time we have, but she will make it quickly,” the elf said. She paused, as if to check that Lark was following.

“Is your strategic advisor named Ptem?” Lark asked, recalling that Ptem had mentioned being forced to make a weapon of mass destruction in his home timeline.

“ Ptem? You must be awfully familiar with him,” the elf said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m familiar with his work,” Lark said, realizing her mistake too late.

“Yes, Ptemfuzhi is the advisor in question. Why?”

“Just curious,” Lark said. “How long do you think we have until their superweapon goes boom?”

“I don’t know, but we need to act quickly.”

“I trust you to do what needs to be done,” Lark said, not having any idea of what needed to be done, or what previous conversations between these two people had involved.

“Good. Ptemfuzhi will work quickly and I’ll make sure she’s the one to activate whatever he makes. We shall say her actions were unsanctioned and everyone will believe it. He’s a drow, and, well, you know how things are with us.

“Of course, I don’t have an opinion one way or another, all that matters to me is that my staff are competent,” the elf said quickly, seeing Lark narrow her eyes. “But the popular sentiment is unfavourable to say the least. So, you and I secure the future of our people, we destroy Boerthelm, for the cost of one single life. Reasonable?”

“Reasonable,” Lark said. “I want to thank you, but I’ve forgotten your name.”

The elf frowned. “Your highness, are you quite well?”

“Forget it,” Lark said. “I accept your proposal.”

“If there is anything else, bring it directly to me. We shouldn’t trouble the prime minister with such things,” the elf said.

Lark nodded in agreement. Satisfied, the apparition flickered and disappeared from view. Before Lark could gather her thoughts, the fog crept into her vision again, swallowing the room.

Ptem swayed on her feet and the rest of the party came back into focus.

“Fuck. It happened again,” said Lark as they started to make their way out of the courtyard.

“Where did you go?” Vim asked.

“I may have wound up in Ptem’s past,” Lark said slyly.

“Oh. Sorry,” Ptem said. There was a chance that Lark had ended up in Fëlaráthæl when the city was holding a festival or celebrating a holy day and she’d had a nice time, but it was unlikely. Ptem hoped that Lark had been spared of the worst of the city’s prejudices and that she hadn’t seen anything related to his family.

“Trust me, I’m sorrier than you are,” Lark said. “Was there a monarch in your timeline, Ptem?”

Ptem explained that in his future, her boss Lyandis conspires with the queen of a neighbouring nation to force him to build a magical superweapon of mass destruction and then have him executed for it.

“So, I may or may not have been the monarch at the time, who may or may not have approved your boss’ plan, which may or may not have been the one that got you killed,” Lark admitted.

A deluge of questions flooded Ptem’s head. He had often wondered what that conversation had looked like; whether Lyandis had hesitated or whether she’d gleefully plotted his death, and whether the queen of Mendaregis had known all the details of the plan before agreeing to it, and how much convincing she’d needed. Lark wouldn’t be able to answer half of Ptem’s questions if she’d been inhabiting the queen, and asking Lark would only irritate her, so Ptem simply said that it wasn’t Lark’s fault.

“Are we changing the past by going there?” Lark asked.

“Lark, do you remember the baron getting arrested?” Vim asked.

“I remember he was arrested, but I wasn’t there for it,” Lark said. “I heard about it after. It was annoying trying to get drugs in Syngorn for quite some time after.”

Vim had no idea if he’d caused the arrest by reporting the baron to Tannyl or if the baron had been arrested by other means. He figured the best way to find out would be to ask Tannyl. That’d answer Lark’s question about how much the party was changing the past. He cast sending to Tannyl.

“Hi, I have a strange question I can’t explain. Did I ever contact you to get the baron arrested?” Vim asked Tannyl. 

“No, it wasn’t you. We did that, we did a big drug bust and got him. He was a menace to society. Why?” came the response. 

Vim didn’t respond. He didn’t think it was particularly important and Tannyl would probably forget about it. He turned back to Lark. “It doesn’t seem like it affects the past,” he said.

“Oh, good, that makes me feel better about my fuckup,” Lark said cheerfully.

“It wasn’t your fuckup, Lark,” Ptem said, gazing absently into the distance.

A series of distant, regular beeps interrupted Ptem’s thoughts. He recognized the sound front he probes the Chronurgy Council used. Her heart started to race and a cold sweat crept down his back. The beeps gradually became louder, closer, and more frequent.

Vim started to walk towards the sounds. Ptem followed Vim cautiously, even though every fibre of his body screamed at him to flee in the opposite direction. Two figures came into view, each waving their anomaly detectors. Ptem recognized the pair as a human and a gnome from the council. Neither had cared to read her paper and both had voted against him.

“Oh, it’s you,” the human said, looking Vim over. “That makes things much more straightforward.”

“What are you doing here?” Vim asked sternly.

“We were alerted to the presence of temporal anomalies, which is unusual because this place is ordinarily very quiet, but if it’s you—”

“I’ve been informed that you have no jurisdiction here, so you shouldn’t be here,” Vim said.

“If we find anything suspicious, we do in fact have jurisdiction here,” the gnome piped up. Both councillors advanced on the party, reaching for their weapons.

Vim’s eyes glowed silvery blue as he cast sending to Queen Leylas. “Forgive me, your majesty. Two members of the Chronurgy Council are in your city. Do we have your permission to kill them?”

A craving for violence that Ptem hadn’t felt since hunting Thorderra in Emon seized him by the heart. Its dark tendrils reached for the cracks inside him left by the council’s torture. Ptem let it fill her until it became too big for her body and he lashed out with it, channeling it silently into a spell to break the human’s psyche and entrap her just as Ptem had been trapped in prison.

The human crumpled to the ground, shrieking. When she didn’t get back up, Ptem snapped the magic around her like a steel trap, locking her in. She continued to scream, but Ptem wanted to hear her beg for mercy like he’d done after only a few hours in his extradimensional cell.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ptem noticed a glowing symbol on the gnome’s shield, and his gaze landed on a ball of sickly grey light in his left palm. Not knowing what the gnome was trying to cast, Ptem whipped around to glare at him. She pried his mind open with shadowy claws and swiped the spell for himself. The grey ball of light hurtled towards Ptem but ricocheted back towards the gnome, hitting him square in the chest. He staggered backwards and almost keeled over. He opened his mouth and a waterfall of blood poured from between his lips.

Vim sighed. The Bright Queen hadn’t had time to respond to Vim before Ptem acted. He doubted she’d mind, especially given that she’d agreed the council was a problem and had agreed to consider helping the party end them.

He reached for the power Erathis granted him and felt it charged, like his god was watching and approved of his actions. Erathis, guide my hand, he prayed. And keep Ptem safe. He aimed his hand at the gnome and released a bolt of holy fire, lighting her up so his friends could aim better in the dark city streets.

“Granted,” Queen Leylas’ voice filled Vim’s mind. “I’d like them dead by the time my team arrives.”

With the human paralyzed on the ground, Adhlea blasted her with three bright pink crackling beams. Her body sizzled with the impact and the smell of burning flesh permeated the air. The gnome grunted something through gritted teeth and Ptem watched in horror as the human’s blackened bones rose under her companion’s thrall.

“Erathis!” Vim called out, already feeling his veins flood with her holy fire. He held his hands out in front of him, palms together and pulled them apart, turning his palms outwards as he pushed wave after wave of radiant energy toward the zombie and the wizard who created it. The undead councillor made a sickening cry as the fire consumed it completely. The gnome was silent as he died, reduced to a charred corpse and a pile of magic items on the ground.

Ptem leaned back in her chair, suddenly exhausted. He felt heavy and drained, and was certain that if she were to close her eyes, he’d fall fast asleep. She faintly heard Vim asking if he was okay. She nodded and reached for his hand.

Ptem forced himself to stay awake by looking around. A few members of the Aurora Watch had gathered and were hanging back, observing the fight. One of them thanked the party for taking care of it and Vim told them that they were legally obliged to kill them.

“You’re going to want to keep those for her majesty to see,” one of the guards said to Lark, who was rifling through the human’s belongings.

“We’ll let Queen Leylas know if we find anything interesting,” Vim said.

A few minutes later, the queen herself arrived. She thanked the party for their vigilance.

“I didn’t ask questions,” Vim said. “They claimed to have jurisdiction here.”

“It was brazen of them to come here,” the queen said. “This matter is of a higher priority than previously expected.”

“Would it be possible for you to send a summons?” Vim asked. “If we could get them all to come here, we could take care of them at the same time.” As the council had now overstepped, the queen was within her rights to call the rest of the council to meet with her.

“We could, yes,” Queen Leylas said. “Is there anything else that would help you? We were going to send a proposal to you this afternoon, but it seems you have ideas already.”

Vim glanced at Ptem, who was leaning forward in her chair, his hands gripping the armrests.

“Yes, your highness, I can think of several things. One of the spellbooks mentioned an archive and I want to find out where it is. Second, I’d appreciate a meeting with your best healers. I have an idea for how we can prevent temporal sickness, which is related to my final request: I would like custody of the councillors when they arrive,” Ptem said.

“Why do you want that, Ptem?” Vim asked. Something about the request felt wrong to Vim, like he should protest it. Ptem’s body was tense and her voice was off and Vim was afraid she might do something harmful.

“I have questions for them,” Ptem replied. “Sharp questions. I also need their blood for the temporal sickness vaccine.”

Vim’s heart sank. He understood he couldn’t deny Ptem her revenge. Ptem had shown him what he’d been through in the councilors’ prison while sparing him the feelings and sensations he’d suffered. It had been horrifying even behind the clinical, unfeeling lens Ptem had filtered it through.

But Vim also knew that torturing the councillors like they’d tortured him would break Ptem. He worried she’d traumatize himself or worse, become the thing that she’d been trying to stop by travelling through time in the first place. He worried he’d lose Ptem. Not physically, it wouldn’t kill her, but it could change him on a fundamental level.

You wanted to make them suffer, the voice in his head accused him. You have no right to object to this when you want to be the one burning their flesh in Erathis’ fire and unleashing the full power of your breath weapon on their smoldering remains .

Vim said nothing. In front of the queen wasn’t the place to undermine or argue with Ptem. If Vim could think of a way to dissuade him later, he’d try. He suspected this might be one of those times where he had to stand back and watch Ptem harm herself in order for him to learn.

“We do not know of your vaccine,” the queen said.

Ptem explained that in his timeline, people had invented a method of preventing certain infectious diseases by injecting the population with a tiny amount of said disease so their bodies could build immunity to it.

“Mordin told me that he couldn’t get temporal sickness anymore due to prolonged exposure, and said that I could do the same eventually,” Ptem began when the queen and the party looked confused. “Back in Syngorn, another mage cast a chronurgy spell that interacted with one of mine and it should have given me temporal sickness, but it didn’t.” Zifferblatt’s slow spell had collided with Ptem’s haste spell and she’d emerged unscathed. Ptem suspected it was related to the chronurgy magic that was now in her blood.

Vim didn’t understand Ptem’s explanation. Intentionally exposing a patient to a disease or pathogen was generally frowned upon by all healers on Exandria. It sounded like an excellent way to cause an outbreak or induce temporal sickness, not cure it. He filed his concerns away for later, after the council was dealt with. It was less pressing.

“Very well,” the queen said. Ptem couldn’t tell if she was satisfied with his explanation. “Do not leave the city. We will summon them tomorrow. Come back at eleven in the morning.” One of her attendants handed Vim a now-familiar document with their appointment time on it.

The queen walked to where Lark had laid out the dead councillors’ possessions and picked up the gnome’s shield. “This is the holy symbol of Chronos?” she asked.

“I think so, your majesty,” Ptem answered.

The queen said she’d take that, and Vim requested the prayer book that Lark had found on the gnome. He wanted to see what kinds of things Chronos’ followers prayed to him for, and perhaps Adhlea might be able to glean some more information about the god through reading it.

Satisfied with the deaths of the two interlopers and with the plans she’d made with the party, the queen bid them farewell. The party decided to head back to their tavern to clean up and have a meal, then explore the city.

Adhlea, Vim, and Ptem went for a walk and admired the architecture and monuments that they’d seen only in passing when they first entered Rosohna. Lark had come with them, but slipped away at some point, likely to pickpocket the city’s elite, find the local drug dealers, or both.

The rest of the party found a bookshop called the Bookwyrm and Vim picked up a few bad romance novels, Devotion’s Shadow, about an assassin who fell in love with their mark and faked their target’s death to collect the reward and then ran away with them; The Echo’s Knight, about a soldier who created a legion of doppelgangers to fuck, Pounded in the Butt by an Orc General, which Ptem was particularly keen to show Vim; By the Luxon’s Light, a book about group of horny priests who hold orgies in their church, and Xhorhasian Nights, an anthology of smutty short stories. They had dinner at Mikaruth’s, an acclaimed restaurant recommended by one of the leaflets in their tavern rooms, then settled in for the evening. 

“Could I have your lightning?” Ptem asked once he and Vim had finished their nightly bath together.

“Of course, love,” Vim said. “Go get comfy and I’ll be in in a moment.”

Ptem took Vim’s face in her hands and pressed a kiss to his snout, then laid herself on the bed face down. He grabbed a pillow and nested it under his head, waiting for Vim to return from the bathroom.

Vim finished oiling his scales and slipped his pyjama pants on. He brought the oil with him from the bath to use on Ptem. She looked so pretty laid out naked on the sheets, waiting for him. Vim still couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to have him.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, setting the oil down on the nightstand and running a hand down Ptem’s spine.

“So are you,” Ptem said, turning her head to look at Vim.

“Is there anywhere specific that hurts?” Vim asked. He was always thorough when massaging Ptem, but he wanted to know if there was anything he needed to either watch out for or pay extra attention to.

“I’m not in pain, but would you do my legs, back, and stomach?” Ptem asked.

“Of course,” Vim said. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Ptem’s forehead before climbing onto the bed with him. He squirted some oil into his hands and straddled Ptem’s hips. He rubbed the oil into Ptem’s skin so his hands could easily slide across it, bent down and sent a low-voltage arc of lightning into Ptem’s trapezius.

Ptem relaxed into the bed and moaned as Vim worked. The soft scales on Vim’s palms and the lightning dancing over her skin made her melt.

Vim pressed his thumbs into Ptem’s back, running them firmly along the lines of Ptem’s muscles. She was nowhere near as tense as she had been the first time he massaged him. Vim’s care for him each night was clearly helping her.

Ptem moaned again and Vim’s cock began to harden. She made the same sounds he made when Vim was fingering him or sucking her cock or letting her suck his cock and it got Vim hard almost every time. He shifted his position so Ptem wouldn’t notice. He’d said she only wanted lightning and a massage and Vim didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable or like he owed Vim anything beyond a cuddle at bedtime.

When Ptem’s back was looser, Vim moved down her body, firmly massaging the backs of her legs. He gently stretched his calves and hamstrings, licking sparks of his breath weapon into her tightest spots to loosen them. Ptem’s skin was so warm and she wiggled under Vim’s touch. He worked methodically, trying to ignore Ptem’s moans and shifting hips and his own hard cock. He wanted to bury his face between Ptem’s perfect ass and taste him. He pushed the images out of his head and focused instead on the feeling of Ptem’s muscles loosening beneath his fingers..

When he finished the backs of Ptem’s legs, Vim quickly tucked his very hard cock into the waistband of his pyjamas so Ptem wouldn’t notice how hard she’d made him with his sounds. He gently eased Ptem onto her back and kissed his forehead.

“How do you feel, love?” he asked, sitting on the bed beside her.

“Good,” Ptem said. “You’re good with your hands, love.” He looked up at Vim, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m glad,” Vim said. He kissed Ptem’s forehead again and then moved so he could position himself between Ptem’s legs. He adjusted Ptem’s hips so they were resting on the pillow and lowered himself to trail lightning across her stomach.

Ptem met Vim’s eye and sighed as the tension drained from her body. The gentle pressure of Vim’s hands on her sides and the sparks he was licking into him sent ripples of pleasure through her. Ptem’s naked cock twitched and he let out a low moan.

She had never been this aroused by Vim’s lightning before. Now that he was no longer in pain, Ptem was able to enjoy the low-voltage pulses across her stomach. His cock began to harden.

“Vim, love?” Ptem asked, laying her hand over his. “Would you be interested in going further? That’s a proposition.” His eyes flickered to his already half-hard cock.

“I’d love to,” Vim said. “The sounds you make when I use my breath weapon on you are so hot.”

“Really? I didn’t notice,” Ptem said.

“Ptem, you sound like you’re being fucked really well,” Vim said. “You moan and cry out the same as you do when I finger you or suck your cock. I’ve been hard since shortly after we started this. I’m almost always hard by the time I finish massaging you.”

“Oh. I didn’t notice that either. Sorry,” Ptem said.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Vim said. “I try to conceal it every time because you make it clear you aren’t looking for sex and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But you do make sex noises every time we do this. It’s probably why Lark left the wagon every night in the ravenite settlement.”

“Oh,” Ptem said again, his face growing warm. “I didn’t realize I did that. But I have a plan if you’d like to hear it.”

“I’d love to hear your plan, sweetheart,” said Vim.

Ptem grasped Vim’s hand and moved it to the base of his hardening cock. “I’d like you to stroke my cock, I can finger you, and you can ride me. How does that sound?”

“Sometimes you have the best plans,” Vim said.

“I try,” Ptem said. He released Vim’s hand and wriggled down the bed towards him.

Vim kissed Ptem, pressing her back into the bed. He rose off him so he could remove his pyjamas and then lay down beside her, pulling Ptem against his chest. He nuzzled his snout against the side of her neck. Vim reached down and wrapped his hand around Ptem’s cock, stroking it firmly.

“I love you,” Vim said.

“I love you, too,” Ptem said. He rocked his hips into Vim’s touch and moaned softly. Ptem reached a hand over and ran her fingers along the spines of his ear fins. They fluttered under Ptem’s fingers and Vim started purring softly.

Ptem closed his eyes and whined as Vim continued to stroke the delicate skin of her shaft. He flexed his fingers, sighing as cold lube coated her leaking cock and Vim’s hand. 

Vim’s hand slid up and down Ptem’s shaft and he nuzzled against him again. “Is this what you needed, love?” he asked.

“Yes, love, please,” Ptem gasped. “If you keep this up, I’ll come before you’ve had the chance to ride me.”

Vim paused his movements.

“Do you want me to stop or do you want me to get you off twice tonight?”

“Could I finger you now? I want to finish inside you,” Ptem said, still gently thrusting into Vim’s hand.

“I’d love that,” Vim said. He let go of Ptem’s cock to roll onto his back and chuckled when she whined.

Ptem waved a hand and floated a glove from the bedside drawer to his side. She slipped it on, covering her long nails. He manoeuvred onto her side then crooked his fingers, producing warm lube for Vim’s ass. Slowly, Ptem pressed her index finger inside, smiling when the tip of Vim’s tail twitched.

She gently moved the tip of her finger in and out of him, massaging the ring of muscle with his thumb. Ptem wrapped his other hand loosely around Vim’s dripping cock and ran her thumb along the underside of his shaft. Vim moaned in pleasure and a pinkish orange flush began to creep up his neck to his face.

“You’re beautiful like this, love,” Ptem said, pushing a second finger into Vim.

“You’re stealing my lines,” Vim laughed, nuzzling Ptem again. “And you feel really good inside me.”

Ptem leaned over to kiss the tip of Vim’s snout. He pressed his fingers in further, careful to avoid his prostate. Ptem gently thrust in and out, working Vim open until he was ready to take a third. His other hand teased the tip of Vim’s cock, thumb circling the head.

“Are you ready to take my cock, love?” Ptem asked, keeping his fingers inside him.

“Very,” Vim said. “If you keep going, I’ll be the one finishing too soon.”

Ptem smiled and withdrew his fingers from Vim. He hurriedly removed the glove, tossing it on the floor by the bed. She wrapped her hand around the base of her cock, steadying it so Vim could sit.

Vim straddled Ptem’s hips and sank down on her cock with a moan. “Fuck, you feel good inside me, love. Your turn for a show tonight?”

“Please,” Ptem said, looking up at Vim. “I have the best view from here.” He threaded her fingers with Vim’s and reached around him with his other hand, ready to play with the base of Vim’s tail.

Vim raised himself up slowly and then sank back down on Ptem’s cock. He combed his fingers into Ptem’s hair and closed his fist, gently tugging on it so Ptem couldn’t look away as he bounced on her cock. He leaned down and kissed him roughly, moving a little faster. His tail twitched behind him, wiggling back and forth between Ptem’s calves.

Ptem ran her finger along the join of Vim’s tail and back, stroking and gently squeezing it. She couldn’t help but thrust her hips in time with Vim’s movements, crying out every time he sank onto him. Ptem tightened his grip on Vim’s hand as pleasure mounted inside him.

Vim’s walls were hot and tight and he felt amazing on top of her. He sheathed Ptem inside himself again and again and Ptem whined when he squeezed around her. The tension coiled tighter and tighter inside Ptem’s body and her cock pulsed, aching for release.

Vim’s hips moved fluidly and he looked so imposing above him. The scales of his cheeks were flushed a golden orange and he looked into Ptem’s eyes lovingly. Ptem felt exposed, like Vim was staring straight into her soul. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. Vim never made it uncomfortable. Vim saw Ptem for who he was, saw all his flaws and mistakes and every time he pulled Ptem into his arms and told him she was good and loved. Ptem’s eyes wanted to close from the intense pleasure Vim was giving him but she couldn’t bring himself to shut out Vim’s gaze. She wanted Vim to perceive him as he had the night before when she got himself off for Vim’s enjoyment. And he liked how small and trapped he felt under Vim.

Vim liked to tell Ptem that she was his and that he belonged in Vim’s bed, beneath him, feeling good. When Vim was above her like this, it was hard for Ptem to disagree. He thought about telling Vim he was his unprompted, but Vim kept sliding up and down her cock, his muscles twitching around Ptem and instead of words, he moaned loudly. She released Vim’s tail, wanting to see him come apart, and wrapped his hand around Vim’s cock, casting her spell to coat it in lube so he could stroke Vim.

Vim sank down on Ptem’s cock a final time and his ass tightened. He let out a soft moan as his cock spurted across Ptem’s stomach and hand. His face was flushed and his tail slowly stopped moving as he breathed heavily above her.

The clench of Vim’s walls around her cock pulled Ptem over the edge as well, and he spilled inside Vim with a cry. He kept his cock buried inside him, grateful for Vim’s weight on top of him, her cock throbbing with aftershocks. Her grip on Vim’s hand loosened and her other hand dropped from his tail. He closed his eyes as he came down, basking in the afterglow.

Vim lifted himself off Ptem’s cock and kissed him on the forehead. He could feel Ptem’s spend dripping out of his ass and his was splattered across Ptem’s stomach.

“Hi,” Ptem said. “I love you.”

“I love you too, beautiful,” Vim said. “Mind if I get a damp cloth to clean us off before we cuddle?”

“Please,” Ptem said. While Vim was in the bathroom, Ptem waved his hand to cast prestidigitation, cleaning the sheets and glove he’d thrown to the ground. She picked it up and put it back in the bedside table drawer.

Vim cleaned himself off with a damp cloth, making sure to remove all of Ptem’s spend from inside himself. He filled a glass with cool water for Ptem to drink and wet another cloth to wash her with. He returned to the bedroom and washed the sweat from Ptem’s face, chest, and arms. Once the rest of Ptem was clean, he mopped up the mess he’d left on Ptem’s stomach and gently cleaned her sensitive cock.

Ptem whined at the cold fabric on his cock but let Vim clean her. He was so gentle and thorough and he knew it was important to Vim that he take care of Ptem. She watched him, feeling her cheeks warm at how attentive Vim was.

When Vim finished, he helped Ptem sit upright and handed him the glass of water. “Drink,” he said, “then we can lie down.”

Ptem obeyed, wanting to be good for Vim still, even though the scene was finished. She wanted to hear Vim say he was good again.

“Good, Ptem,” Vim said when Ptem handed him the empty glass.

Ptem flushed a pretty pink and cupped Vim’s snout, pulling him down to press a kiss to it.

“Would you like your nightgown, or would you prefer to sleep naked tonight, love?” Vim asked Ptem. He preferred having Ptem naked against his scales but they’d had an eventful day. He suspected Ptem might not want to be so exposed.

“I’d like my nightgown, please,” Ptem said.

Vim retrieved the garment from under Ptem’s pillow where she’d left it folded and handed it to him. Ptem slipped it on, grateful for the soft cotton covering his body.

Vim pulled on his pyjama bottoms and got into bed with Ptem, arranging them so Ptem’s legs were over Vim’s lap with her head resting on Vim’s chest. Ptem opened his mouth to tell Vim what she’d enjoyed most about their evening together, but a knock sounded on their door. 

Vim got up to answer it, stifling a groan as his knees cracked. On the other side of the door was the shadowhand, hovering a couple of inches above the floor as usual.

“Shadowhand,” Vim said politely in Elvish.

“Good evening,” the shadowhand said in the same language, “I would speak again with your time wizard.”

Vim turned to look at Ptem, who had jumped out of bed and was hastily pulling on a dressing gown. She gave an awkward wave, which the shadowhand took as an invitation to enter the room. He floated over the threshold to hover in front of Ptem.

Vim moved out of the shadowhand’s way as the man pushed past him, annoyed at the interruption to his and Ptem’s aftercare and at the rudeness of barging into their room without invitation. He kept his face carefully calm and closed the door, standing back to watch the exchange. It wouldn’t do to anger the queen by treating her minions poorly.

“Hi. Here I am. Also, you don’t need to call me ‘time wizard,’ my name’s Ptemfuzhi,” Ptem said. “But I don’t know yours.”

“Thank you, Ptemfuzhi. I am Shadowhand Essek of Den Thelyss,” he said. “To the point, then: I have reviewed the books you provided. They are fascinating, but do not contain the means of time travel. I believe with further study, the theory underpinning certain spells within can be applied to invent new ones.”

“That’s been my understanding as well,” Ptem said. “I haven’t been able to dedicate as much as I would have liked to it.”

Guilt coiled inside Ptem and he thought of all the work she still had to do to make sense of the knowledge she’d plundered. He’d been able to copy a few new spells, but understanding how the wizards had manipulated time to create them was the most difficult part. Between Draconia and Syngorn, there hadn’t been much opportunity for Ptem to sit down uninterrupted and thoroughly analyze the books.

“If I may, why are you telling me this now? I expected to hear about it tomorrow at the queen’s council,” Ptem asked.

Essek’s expression tightened and the corners of his mouth curled with barely suppressed displeasure. “The Bright Queen is wise, but we do not always agree on the value of temporal research,” he said evenly. “I wish for us to make the best use of the material you found.”

Vim did not like the sound of that and he knew that Ptem would miss the treasonous statement and focus instead on the offer of assistance. Ptem had so desperately wanted Mordin to help him solve time travel and was devastated every time the man treated him poorly or refused to work with him. And here was a powerful wizard who could have his pick of research partners asking Ptem for her help. Vim knew there was no chance Ptem would turn him down and a very high chance Essek would pin the blame on Ptem if he was ever found out.

“Are you suggesting that we work together?” Ptem asked. It was almost too much to hope for. 

“I would propose a research partnership, yes. I did see in your paperwork that you desire to… increase the precision with which you ascertain your temporal destination,” Essek said, choosing his words carefully.

“Yes, I need to improve my accuracy, I know. I’m working on it,” Ptem said, failing to hide the irritation in her voice. He’d attempted time travel twice and on neither occasion had she arrived where or when she’d wanted. But he’d still achieved what few others had: he’d visited two different timelines and stayed alive within them. “You, I mean, your people, don’t know a nonlethal way to travel between timelines, but I’ve done it twice. Respectfully, how can you help me with this?” she asked Essek.

“I am a magic prodigy and have been studying dunamis since I could read. Although I have not travelled to other timelines as you have, you will find nobody with such deep knowledge of dunamancy as I,” Essek said.

Ptem nodded. She couldn’t deny that she knew nothing of dunamis, having discovered its existence only the day before. Perhaps he could learn from the Kryn Dynasty’s approach to chronurgy, and graviturgy could help him warp space to end up in the right location. At the very least, Essek would have opinions and suggestions for Ptem.

“In that case, I am amenable,” Ptem said, trying not to look too enthusiastic. “When? I’m busy tomorrow, but I have nothing planned after that.”

“I know. I will be around when you question the Chronurgy Council. I will be waiting outside,” Essek added when Ptem began to look concerned. “You can visit my tower tomorrow before your appointment with the Bright Queen. I will be there anytime after four o’clock.” He flicked his wrist and a sheet of parchment and a quill appeared. Essek quickly drew a route through the Lucid Bastion, marked his location, and handed it to Ptem, telling her to contact him with sending if her availability changed. Ptem thanked him and he floated out of the room.

“Ptem, love,” Vim said when Essek was gone, “please be careful with him. He’s ambitious and if he’s willing to openly admit to treason like that, he’s dangerous. I’m not telling you not to work with him. I’m just telling you to watch your back.”

“His priorities are aligned with mine and he’s the first wizard who has offered to help me with this,” Ptem said. “But I’ll be careful, love. Thank you.” Ptem didn’t think that disagreeing with the queen or pursuing his own research interests was tantamount to treason; it wasn’t a crime against the nation or a danger to Xhorhas, but he refrained from arguing. If Essek was committing treason, that wasn’t her business.

Ptem shed her dressing gown and hung it inside the wardrobe in the corner of the room. He climbed under the covers and patted the space beside him. “Come back to bed?” she asked Vim. “I wasn’t finished cuddling you.”

Vim joined Ptem in bed, curling himself around her on his side, with his tail over his hips and one hand loosely at the base of Ptem’s throat. He forced himself to relax, not wanting Ptem to notice how worried he was. He’d expressed his concerns and Ptem had agreed to be careful. He couldn’t very well accuse her of brushing him off even though it felt like that’s what Ptem was doing. He knew how important this was for him and would just have to keep an eye on the situation so he could alert the Bright Queen if necessary.

“I love you,” Ptem said. “I love it when you touch me. When you give me lightning, I feel like I can relax. I feel safe . But today was the first time I wanted more, and I’m glad you did as well.”

“I love you too,” Vim said. “I want you to feel safe. You deserve to have a place to relax and feel good and forget about everything for a little while. I’m glad I can give that to you.”

“I like it when I can touch you, too,” Ptem said. “I love being inside you. It feels right. Thank you for letting me. You know, you’re always welcome to ride me. I love watching you enjoy yourself with me. ”

Vim nuzzled Ptem’s hair. “You feel so good inside me,” he said. “Thank you for suggesting it.”

Ptem turned his head to press a kiss to the tip of Vim’s snout. He waved his hand to extinguish the lights in the room and closed her eyes.

“Ptem?” Vim asked, hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“If you’re planning to go to Essek’s tower for four, could you wake me first? I don’t want to wake up alone.”

It was at least true. Vim didn’t want to wake up alone. But he also wanted to discuss his concern over Ptem’s obvious plan to torture the remaining members of the Chronurgy Council and Ptem had clearly signalled that right now she wanted sleep.

“Yes, love,” Ptem said. “I won’t go that early, I’ll get up at six and wake you when I do.” Ptem laid her hand over Vim’s at her neck and fell asleep to the rhythm of Vim’s steady breathing behind her.

Vim stayed awake a while longer, his worries running through his mind on a loop. Finally, when he didn’t think he could lie still just staring at the wall in the dark any longer, he closed his eyes and reached for his connection to Erathis. He didn’t quite cast commune, but he held to the tether she had to him as he prayed, knowing she’d feel his fear and desperation and hoping it’d soothe him.

Thank you for keeping my friends safe this afternoon, he willed his thoughts into the connection. We’re close to destroying the Chronurgy Council. If the Bright Queen can convince them to meet with her, I’m hopeful we can finish them tomorrow.

But I’m worried about Ptem. She wants to torture them and I’m so angry at what they did to him that I want them to feel the pain they inflicted on others. But it’ll break her and I don’t know how to convince him of that or if I even have a right to try. And Essek is so obviously using him for his own ambitions but Ptem doesn’t see it even when it’s pointed out to him because she’s so desperate for the approval of other wizards.

Please, could you watch out for him? Vim felt like he’d already asked Erathis for so much, especially after what she’d given him, but he couldn’t keep Ptem safe from herself and while he knew Erathis couldn’t intervene, it made him feel better.

He held on to the connection, imagining he could feel his god’s love through it, imagining she could reassure him that everything would be fine and safe. He began reciting common prayers to Erathis in his mind, repeating them over and over until he was finally tired enough to fall asleep.