"I recognized the description immediately," said Petros. "The moment I read the first few lines of the document, I knew it was the one."

  The library was filled with dusty twilight, shafts of white light slanting through the stained-glass windows. The air carried the scent of books, and of dried aromatic herbs and flowers. Tall carved shelves, adorned with dark gilded figures and statuettes, held thousands of scrolls, parchments, birchbark manuscripts, and simple printed and bound books, written over the past three hundred years since the invention of the printing press.

  The five of them were sitting in the reading room at a mahogany table. No noise from the street reached here, and nothing interfered with the quiet, deliberate conversation Petros had begun.

  "So, there is another part of the story you need to know," the mage said dryly. "This part is much closer to us in time, it began just over thirty years ago. At that point, I had finished my postgraduate studies at the Asternian Academy, published several articles and monographs that sparked interest in academic circles, then organized a few expeditions that were also relatively successful. But overall, I was young, foolish, vain, and obsessed with history. I always felt my academic career wasn’t progressing fast enough, that I lacked a breakthrough, some brilliant discovery that could change the world.

  And so, I began to dig into the subject of the ancient Nocturns. I was intrigued by the prophecy, by the fact that the calendar ends—after all, I was living roughly in the same time period, which meant I could be a witness to historical events. I was fascinated by the technology of the ancient Nocturns, and by the legend of the Lake of Aktida—at that point, it was just a legend. We had no evidence whatsoever that such an object existed.

  It all began as a passing thought, idle curiosity, but the more I learned, the more obsessed I became with understanding how the Nocturns could have predicted the future two thousand years ahead. My interest evolved from weeks spent in the largest library of the Academy to a search for scraps of information all across Aktida, and later across all of Laugdeil. Even the oldest archives stubbornly refused to reveal the mystery I had set out to solve. I gathered single stray phrases, searched for sanctuaries of the ancient Nocturns and all texts from their era. And suddenly I found evidence. It happened by chance. I won’t go into detail, I’ll just say: I found a clue that opened my eyes.

  That discovery could have been everything I had longed for, something that would make my name immortal.

  I learned of a certain construct made up of two main components. One of those parts, the Lake of Aktida, seemed out of reach to me, as I was certain the Nocturns had taken it during the war with the invaders and lost or destroyed it somewhere in Rikutiam. But the second part was much closer and more accessible, and I realized it must be somewhere in Vaimar.

  I was rich, my friends. I was born and raised in a luxurious mansion. My grandfather was one of those who became suddenly and unexpectedly wealthy right after the war. He was granted a piece of no-man’s land, where vast deposits of diamonds and other precious metals were discovered. My grandfather became a count and built the very estate where I lived until I was six. Later, I enrolled in a private school affiliated with the Asternian Academy of Magic. I had everything: endless money, power that grew with my career, and equally rich and influential friends, ambitious young mages. We all desperately wanted to surpass our fathers, to change the world for the better.

  But by the time I became engrossed in that idea, I had squandered most of my money and fallen out with my father. I was nearly broke. I could have earned easily had I taken over my father's business or simply pursued a career at the Academy, but I didn’t care about any of that. I was consumed by my project and dreamed of completing it. At first, I wanted to do everything myself so I wouldn't have to share the glory, but I quickly realized I couldn’t manage it alone, so I began cautiously testing the waters among my Academy acquaintances, looking for partners who could help fund the search.

  That’s how I found Saelin and another guy named Vergilius. They didn’t have any money either. But they were incredibly interested in the study of the ancient Nocturns. They helped me advance my plan significantly, and I understood that while I wouldn’t reveal all my cards, I would have to trust them to a certain degree.

  We needed money. So we turned to the Academy of Sciences for help. But we were refused, as our subject was considered fictional in academic circles. So we resorted to a trick. We announced that we wanted to study the crossroads of time.

  "The what?" Viggo widened his eyes.

  "A strange anomaly. A place where different loops of the time continuum intersect, and between them holes form. Passages. Portals from one time to another."

  Kairu listened, holding his breath.

  "The Lake of Aktida was considered a myth," Petros continued, "but the existence of crossroads of time was well-documented. The first to be affected were either peasants or pilgrims… It’s complicated. Imagine this: a person walks through the forest, suddenly feels sick, sees circles before their eyes, the air ripples and shimmers. They keep walking and suddenly realize the trees around them have grown fifty feet taller, a familiar ravine is gone, and in place of a village—ashes. If they’re lucky, they’ll try to return to the spot where they felt the dizziness, find the shimmering air again, pass through it, and return to their own time. If not, they’ll remain there forever. And that’s if the time difference is just two or three years. Sometimes, you leap forward or backward by a whole millennium. And that’s real shock for a person.

  Mentions of crossroads existed throughout history, ever since people began recording chronicles in detail. They were rare, and would appear and disappear, making them very difficult to study. At the Mainor Institute of Magic, there was even a Department of Time opened, where they tried to reproduce the phenomenon or at least describe it theoretically, but without success.

  Then we came forward and announced we were ready to study the anomaly. They gave us funding immediately, without even asking questions, and it was no small sum. We then outfitted an expedition, took on three more people plus a small security escort since the roads were dangerous, and set off for Vaimar, specifically to a region called Regerlim. We began searching, also taking a look at the crossroads. Of course, they expected results from us, so we had to kill two birds with one stone. And soon we realized the two were closely connected.

  I won’t go into what happened at the end of the expedition, that was a personal falling-out with Saelin. The point is, we discovered that the crossroads of time are caused by the magical activity of the Lake of Aktida. The diamond gives the Seer the ability to see the future, and it also plays a key role in creating bridges between times."

  "So, using those crossroads, the ancient Nocturns could also travel through time?" Kairu asked in shock. "That means..."

  "Exactly," Petros nodded. "That’s precisely how they knew everything that would happen. That’s how they wrote their calendar. That’s how they gained access to technologies far ahead of their era. And we’re lucky: in their religion, the Lake of Aktida was a central part of their cult, worshipped as something divine in origin and power. So, wherever crossroads of time appeared, the Nocturns built shrines."

  "That’s what you’re looking for under Nalvin?" Rita asked. "And you think there’s a crossroads there?"

  "Exactly," Petros said, his eyes flashing. "The ancient Nocturns devised a clever way to help their time-travelers navigate. In the far future, their agents could orient themselves by ruins, remnants of ancient roads, secret markings on stones that survived for thousands of years. This allowed them to complete their mission and return safely. Of course, there were mishaps too, like when a city happened to exist right on the spot where a crossroads opened. Those were shut down quickly, but sometimes they were discovered and recorded in the other time. That’s how the stories spread. But crossroads that opened in safe, remote places stayed open longer, giving the agent enough time to do what was needed and return. I found maps that, while indirect, point to which shrines were built on crossroads. And I’m nearly certain I’ve found the one that connects the 500s Before the New Era to our time. And I want to get in and have a chat with the ancient Nocturns."

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  "And us?" Kairu asked. "Do we have to go with you?"

  Petros looked at him.

  "No. Time travel with a large team is too dangerous. You could cause irreparable damage to the future. I’m not even sure it’s a good idea for me to go, but I have no choice. I need to understand something. I need to make sure I’m doing the right thing. But I believe that in the other time, nothing threatens me—there’s no war there, and I’ll manage alone. I’ll learn what I need to know and return to you. I’ll ask them to open the passage for me in a safe location. In the meantime," he looked at Kairu, "you need to figure out how to get into Saelin’s Castle. Retrieve the Lake of Aktida. And stay alive. That’s very, very important."

  Petros fell silent again.

  "I’m sure the four of you can handle it," he said, suddenly smiling. "You were a great team that autumn when you went to the mountains. You’ll be a team again. We’ll go our separate ways, but we’re working toward the same goal."

  "When are you leaving?" Viggo asked.

  "Very soon. We don’t have much time, pirates will be here any day now. Kairu will come with me to search for the crossroads. Viggo, Remiz, Rita: I advise you to leave here as soon as possible, and head to Mainor. You’ll still be safe there for a while and can prepare a plan before I return. Kairu will catch up with you..."

  "After I swing by the village to get my father and brother," Kairu said.

  "Like hell," Viggo grumbled. "In that case, either we all go to Mainor together, or we all stay here. We’re not leaving without Kairu."

  Petros nodded approvingly.

  "That’s the spirit of a true team," he said. "Anyway, do what you must, but stick together. And be careful. That’s all for today, you’re dismissed. I’ve got some matters to attend to at the Mages' Guild. I need to prepare. By the way, Kairu, you’re headed to the forge now, right? I suggest you pick up some armor. I’m sure they’ve got something extra lying around."

  They slowly stood up. Kairu moved toward the exit first; Viggo, Remiz, and Rita followed without a word. Petros walked over to the window, staring thoughtfully at the street. Large raindrops once again tapped and streaked down the glass.

  ***

  Kairu returned to the forge, told the master about the armor, and was told he’d receive it that evening. He went back to work. Here, in the fortifying city of Nalvin, nothing had changed. People toiled without rest, not thinking about the next day, which could bring either victory or defeat. They didn’t care—they were doing all they could. Everything else was irrelevant.

  Kairu once again lost himself in the delicate process of forging metal, but he couldn’t shake Petros’s words from his mind, spoken during their first meeting as a group back in the summer:

  "So long as the diamond remains in Saelin’s hands, we cannot stay on the sidelines. Otherwise, a few years from now, we’ll find ourselves alone in a wasteland. And most likely, if the Lake of Aktida doesn’t end up in Kairu’s hands—we’re all going to die."

  The fear returned. He didn’t notice how the rest of the day passed in exhausting labor until the bell rang, calling everyone to dinner.

  The courtyard had gone dark, lit only by torchlight flickering on walls. The sounds of hurrying feet echoed, people rushing to their assigned regiments so they wouldn’t miss their meal. Kairu made his way to the square, glancing around, but in the sea of identical helmets and chainmail, familiar faces were impossible to find. Finally, he spotted them—or rather, heard them: Viggo’s booming voice, flowing endlessly as he recounted his combat exploits in the Fighters' Guild to new soldier acquaintances. Kairu joined them. Petros was also there, walking slightly apart.

  "I wonder if the food here’s paid for by the state, or if some private conglomerate is footing the bill," Petros grumbled, sitting down with them in the crowd. The cooks, like everyone else, wore armor, with stained aprons thrown over the top. "If it’s the former, I’m not surprised. Ringus isn’t lying when he complains about supply issues. They don’t have enough funds, even when the fate of the country’s at stake."

  He’d wisely brought five clean iron bowls from the Mage’s Guild. This time, they were served heavily salted and peppered pork, accompanied by a single onion, and water flasks for dessert. Water was the only thing the city had in abundance. The meat, like at lunch, was cold.

  "Not bad," Viggo remarked. "At least they don’t want the army starving to death. But I could eat five of these bowls and wash them down with a good mug of October ale!"

  "Wishful thinking, Viggo," Rita shook her head. "Hope that someday this ends, and we’ll have peaceful days again. Until then—suck it up. Hey, looks like we’re all done eating? Let’s go."

  "Go where?" Kairu stretched lazily.

  "To the gates," Petros said.

  "What for?"

  Rita gave a sharp whistle and strode down the street. Kairu suddenly noticed the backpack on her shoulders. From around the corner, a fiery red horse galloped out, nearly bowling over some guards, and ran up to her. She leaped onto the back of the Hellsteed, sitting astride like a man and squeezed its flanks with her legs.

  "Thank you for everything. You're a strange man, Petros, but a good one. I’m sorry I can’t accompany you right now."

  "You’re leaving?" Kairu jumped up.

  "Yes. To Mainor. I’m sorry, Kairu. But Petros told me something, and I urgently need to leave you. It's... it's about my parents."

  "Viggo, Remiz, you can go with her, but be careful: after Nalvin, the pirates might move on to Mainor," Petros warned.

  "Hell no. Remiz and I will wait for Kairu here. Either we all leave together, or none of us does," Viggo said gloomily, casting a pointed glance at Remiz, who simply nodded in agreement.

  "Then until we meet again," said Rita. "I hope everything works out for you, and that we’ll meet again soon in Mainor. I wish you luck. You'll need it more than anyone. Kairu, Viggo, Remiz—I'm glad we met again. Goodbye! Kairu..." She rode up closer. "Take care of yourself. All of you—take care. For Aktos."

  She turned sharply, spurred her horse, and galloped down the street toward the dark, open gates. The curfew was nearing, when all entries and exits from the city would be closed, but they let her through, and she disappeared into the darkness beyond the line of flickering torches held by the last incoming recruits.

  "Let’s go," Petros said. "May Aktos send her good fortune too... brave girl. Viggo, Remiz, head to your inn and get some rest. Tomorrow will be a hard day. Kairu, come with me."

  Viggo looked at them in surprise but just wished them goodnight and turned down another alley. Kairu and Petros were left alone.

  "What do you want...?" Kairu began, but Petros cut him off:

  "Quiet. Let’s go quickly. We’ll gather at the Mages' Guild. I’ve already decided everything, I only need one more thing—you. We’re leaving. Not far, and not for long, but we’re leaving."

  ***

  Nalvin was here. Beneath his feet. The admiral was sharpening his saber, savoring the pleasant sound of metal against stone, and staring into the distance, where his imagination painted the towers of Nalvin above the treetops. Of course, they were still far away, but Cassander could already picture himself in one of those towers, seated in the governor's chair, gazing down upon the city he had conquered.

  The soldiers were sleeping below, under the trees, right on the soft ground covered with moss and pine needles. They had just stopped after a long march. Soon. In four days, they would come within cannon range of the city, and then he would let them rest.

  They were cutting through everything in their path... Just today—another village, which yielded almost no spoils. From it, the admiral came away only with a deep wound on his left arm. A miserable dozen men had run out to face them, armed with nothing but pitchforks, axes, and one man leading the charge with a sword, who was the first to attack Cassander. The admiral had only been saved by raising his arm in time. The blade glanced off his iron bracer and struck his elbow... He had never stooped to killing commoners, only dueling with the strongest opponents, but this time, he had to personally run the old man through. He hated remembering that moment, when he looked into the dying man’s eyes, and the last thing he saw there was hatred. A terrible hatred for a world that had taken everything from him, the hatred of a doomed patriot.

  The admiral shuddered and thought: "If all their eyes burned with such hatred… If they all felt the same way heading into battle… we would have little left to conquer, and this whole venture would be hopeless. But more often, we’re met only by a handful of desperate men shielding a thousand cowards."

  Here, we finally arrive at the subject of time traveling.

  It will still take a few chapters before our heroes get a chance to try it themselves.