The mage sat with his feet stretched toward the hearth; in his hands was Vaimarakirian. Other books and manuscripts lay open in disarray on the table beside him. Petros, of course, had taken the most expensive room and lived here in proud solitude, sharing the results of his daily work with no one.

  "Ah, it’s you." Petros looked up at him as Kairu gently closed the door behind him, and the professor’s voice sounded unusually serious. "Sit down, Kairu. We need to talk. I think you still don’t understand everything."

  "You could say that." Kairu couldn’t help a smirk.

  Petros sighed.

  "It’s largely my fault. When you travel to another time and begin changing reality, you must be extremely careful. We underestimate the power of the word, and yet everything we speak aloud can go unnoticed by history—or it can imprint itself on someone’s memory and become an idea that later sprouts and leads to unpredictable consequences. That’s what I’ve always feared. I hope now you understand too—after all, you have had the chance to change history."

  Kairu nodded dryly.

  "I didn’t realize it for a long time," Petros said. "I thought my purpose was to carry out a revolution in Aktida. In fact, the final and most important mission given to me in this reality is to bring you to the end."

  "Is that what you learned in the past? You went there for that?"

  "Yes. Too many people used the crossroads of time, went into foreign epochs, and made irreversible changes there. You, me, Saelin, the ancient Nocturns themselves, and many others. We created a reality that should not have existed. A reality full of paradoxes. That’s why it may seem to you that the whole world is hurtling to ruin. The prophecy of the ancient Nocturns foretold this situation; they saw chaos instead of a future in our time."

  "But we both saw the future," Kairu said. He still didn’t understand where Petros was going with this. "It will happen. The world will not die, and if it does, it will be reborn again."

  "Yes. But then we only looked five hundred years ahead. Perhaps we merely postponed the end of the world—but did not prevent it. The best way to prevent it is to restore the original timeline. The one in which people never used the time machine. That is what you will be able to do on the Island Darius."

  "And then what?" Kairu asked. "Will all of this… change?" He swept his hand around him.

  "Most likely. We will end up in a reality where none of this happened. No Saelin, no Garamant, no Lake of Aktida, no Star of Vaimar. No time crossings. One life, one chance at everything."

  Kairu was silent, trying to make sense of what he’d been told. Petros smiled.

  "Isn’t that what you wanted when you went to 1425?"

  "That’s what I wanted," Kairu muttered. "But…"

  "You wanted to undo the war, but everything else suited you? You wanted to fix only what concerns you and your friends? Reality doesn’t work that way, Kairu. If you want to fix things, you have to do it from the very beginning. Imagine the timeline as a tree that grows from the moment the ancient Nocturns obtained Octarus. From that moment, a powerful trunk began to grow in one direction—what would have been if there were no possibility of time travel. In the other direction, hundreds of little branches, which in turn produced many other branches. You tried to cut off just one branch. Now you can cut them all at the root. Let the main trunk grow."

  "But how do we know that will be better?"

  "We don’t. I’ll tell you more: I’m not sure it will be better. There will be endless wars, epidemics, millions of great and small human tragedies. The rise and fall of empires, divisions of territories, their own heroes and villains. That’s how history is made. All of that will exist—but it will be different. Perhaps even you and I will exist there. And Rita. But it’s very likely that none of us will ever know of one another’s existence. Are you ready for that?"

  "I…" Kairu choked. "I don’t know," he finally said helplessly.

  "You don’t have much time left to think."

  "But how will it happen? Will everything change in the blink of an eye? And me? What will happen to me? I won’t remember anything?"

  Petros chuckled.

  "You once asked me that question before…" he mumbled, and for a moment his gaze clouded. "I don’t know, Kairu. I don’t know exactly how it will happen. But I do know there is one condition for making such a large-scale change to reality. You will have to fix the magic’s effect."

  "And what must be done for that?"

  "Die," Petros answered simply.

  Kairu looked at him, not understanding.

  "What?"

  "The time machine is a triangle, Kairu. Darius, Octarus, and the Seer, who is connected to both. You were created by Darius’s magic; you cannot exist apart from it. Nor can you create a reality in which two of the three components are absent. If I understand correctly, you will have to disappear—go to the same place where Darius and Octarus will go. Consider it means you will have to die."

  "And then…"

  "Then all the crossroads of time will close. Everything that ended up out of its time will return to its places. Saelin included. Me included."

  "And I will have to… die?"

  "You will be given a choice," Petros said softly. "When you make the change, this reality we are in now will become a phantom, an illusion. After your death, it will also cease to exist."

  Silence fell. Kairu calculated feverishly.

  "So all of this was in vain," he suddenly said. "Everything you did. Everything I did. Your revolution. All these wars, deaths… What was it for?"

  "I didn’t know either. Until I met someone from the past who explained the point to me. But you’re right. At the moment, none of this matters anymore."

  "Yuffilis wants to go to war," Kairu said hoarsely. "The coin… He believes he can create a republic in Aktida, that he can restore peace. Does that not matter either?"

  "Don’t tell Yuffilis anything," Petros said quietly. "I don’t want him to lose hope. In any case, when this reality disappears, no one will notice. It’s like death by a bullet. You won’t hear it, you won’t feel anything, you won’t have time to prepare. One moment you were, and the next you’re not. But you’re right. That knowledge is very hard to live with. A person needs a purpose, meaning, hope. So I ask you, tell no one. That’s another reason I don’t want too many people to set out on that ship."

  "It’s terrible," Kairu muttered. His voice refused to obey him. He looked Petros straight in the eyes.

  "Why should I be the one to do it? You don’t believe Yuffilis can manage? Why do you assume that this timeline will also end in the apocalypse? We can open a crossroads of time right now. Look a thousand, ten thousand years ahead… Make sure the new world exists, and that it’s beautiful! Maybe then we shouldn’t sail to that Island? Especially if we don’t know that the alternative will be better…"

  "It’s too dangerous," Petros shook his head. "We no longer have a choice. The time machine cannot be left to people. If we do not fix things now, a new war will be inevitable. What you saw beyond the Gates of Elysium can be created only if you make the right move now."

  Kairu slowly sank into the armchair. His vision darkened.

  "I don’t want to do this anymore," he whispered, barely audible, struggling with nausea. "I can’t…"

  "You can. It is your duty and your destiny. This is what the Lake of Aktida chose you for. And you already know it, you just refuse to accept it. Because you’ve grown too attached to this world. Strange, isn’t it? Not so long ago, you went into the past, dreaming of changing reality. And now you’re ready to do anything just to leave things as they are?"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Kairu looked at him. A haze covered his eyes. The only thing he truly saw was Rita’s face.

  "You already know everything yourself, Petros."

  "I do," the mage agreed. "And I’m afraid this is the sacrifice you must make."

  "Can I at least tell her beforehand?"

  "It will be best if you simply tell her that you must sail alone. Tell her you cannot be together, that you will walk this last path and not return," Petros said sternly. "And she must believe it. She must accept it. She must understand that you are never meant to meet again."

  "I can’t," Kairu said. "You know I can’t… It would be easier to die right now, to throw myself to the bottom with a stone around my neck…"

  Petros shook his head.

  "I didn’t make these laws…"

  "I don’t care!" Kairu roared; the lump in his throat pressed so hard that it was impossible to hold back the cry. "You sit here and tell me I must abandon Rita, then die—and it doesn’t even matter to you! You know what? Go to Darius yourself, walk into that temple, and do what needs to be done! I don’t have to listen to you at all. I could’ve walked away back then, at Nubel’s estate, and left you all to hell! But for some reason, I dragged along with you through the Southern Province, fought at Nalvin, then ran your errands in Mainor and Tepei-Kuon, then in Derelz and Regerlim, cleaning up the mess that was your fault, by the way! I thought finally it would all end… It would be easier, you know, to just take a knife and end it all with one stroke…"

  "You won’t do that," Petros said calmly. "You know that would be the most meaningless sacrifice of all. If you are to give your life, let it be for a beautiful new world, isn’t that so?"

  Kairu turned away. Looked into the dark window.

  "I’m not going anywhere."

  "Of course you are," Petros replied lazily. "The course of history now depends on you. You will go—or you will be condemned to live out your days watching the whole world burn, watching one by one all those you loved die. And then you will be left alone in the ashes, and then you too will die—knowing you could have fixed everything but didn’t. No, you won’t be able to accept that reality—just as I couldn’t many years ago. We are too alike, Kairu. I’ve known you too long, and I know you will sail to the Island."

  Kairu looked at him with hatred. Petros was right. And that fact killed any attempt to argue.

  "You want to say that it’s all a lie, and you want to believe it yourself…" Petros noted. "That happens… Truth strikes much harder than lies, but a man can always accept the truth, however cruel it may be. Many have already given their lives so that you wouldn’t give up, so that you’d endure everything and go to the end. Remember that and think on it. And here…"

  He tossed Kairu the Vaimarakirian. The book opened in the air, and catching it, Kairu automatically scanned the lines. Perhaps he hoped to find there an answer to his tormenting doubts, perhaps a refutation of Petros’s words…

  "Thus we may conclude that, like all things that exist, we came forth from the higher principles of Light and Darkness and therefore our nature is divine in its essence. Taking all the foregoing into account, I dare to assert that Man is the crown of creation, the crown of the Experiment of Dark and Light principles; he is equal to Dar, and to the host of gods we have invented, he commands his own destiny and builds his own world. Every human mind is a particle of the higher mind of Light, and every body is a particle of the higher matter of Darkness. So why, then, do we need gods, if the only thing worthy of worship is the center of the universe, His Majesty Man? Why, I ask this of those who stand at the very summit of our theocratic society and, holding in their hand the scepter of the High Priest, command our lives?.."

  "Perhaps you should remember something else," Petros said softly. "Every man has his worst enemy, who awakens when he must make the most important choice of his life. That enemy is himself. I’ve already had to endure many battles with myself—with my pride, greed, and lust for power… but I fear the most terrible battle still lies ahead. It awaits you as well. And then you will have to tell black from white, good from evil, and act in the only right way. Think on that."

  Kairu shook his head. His tongue refused to obey him, the words stuck in his throat, his thoughts turned into a sticky swamp in which he desperately tried to find at least one solid stone, at least a grain of meaning. Petros sighed.

  "You are unlucky," he said. "The veil has lifted, you have learned too soon the truths I sought my entire life… So think carefully about our conversation. Remember everything you had to endure. Remember those who will never see the end. And on the day of departure, act rightly."

  Kairu stood and left without a word. His thoughts boiled in his head, he saw nothing before him and thought of everything at once.

  And most of all—of Rita, who waited for him in the bedroom, already lying on the white coverlet, her fiery red hair undone…

  To tell good from evil, black from white… he would never have thought it could be so hard.

  ***

  Hugo Hellerson gazed at the milky-white sky, veiled by the thinnest film of clouds, at the sea restless from the wind, at the waves with foamy crests that gloomily struck the wet pier and rocked the ship moored at the shore. Gray sails, barely visible in the mist, were tied to the yards, the flags were lowered, and a drowsy silence reigned on deck. The corvette Andromeda had just left the dock, and the day before was launched for the first time after a long repair. On the quay, stacks of crates with provisions, tobacco, and barrels of water, wine, and beer had been laid out. Most of it, Captain Ganstair planned to take for sale in the Archipelago.

  A horse’s hooves rang sharply on the damp pavement, splashing water from puddles left from the yesterday rain. Before the horse, flapping their white wings, brazen gulls settled and cried. Stopping in front of the inn, Hugo dismounted, tied the reins to the hitching post, and headed to the porch, where lively voices drifted from behind the half-open door.

  At the sight of Hugo, Petros, and Natall, who were sitting at one table, fell silent, and a hush hung in the air. A second later, Petros leapt up and embraced the Kald.

  "Well, hello, General Hellerson," he murmured, releasing his old acquaintance. "Well, hello. To be honest, I thought you wouldn’t manage to send anyone before our departure…"

  "I rode like the wind," Hugo smiled. "I couldn’t miss the chance to chat with you after your return from Arctarium. Truth be told, I thought you’d long been dead. It’s been so long without news…"

  "I thought so myself," Petros replied, half-serious, half-joking. "But your diplomatic mission turned out successfully, didn’t it? General Felm remained in Jake Farian’s army?"

  "Yes, and those troops became a great support for us. Thanks to Vaimar, the rebels’ army nearly tripled. Jake, for once, showed good sense and entrusted the reins of command to our generals, and they managed to coordinate the armies and gather them at the very foot of Olmaer, to strike a crushing blow against Saelin’s positions on the appointed day. And damn me if they didn’t do it! They did it so well that Saelin, sitting on the royal throne in Mainor, soiled his breeches in fear!"

  "So, in Aktida, it has begun…" Petros started anxiously, but Hugo, no longer hiding his triumph, declared:

  "War! War, Petros! Petista and Asternia are already in our hands, Mainor soon will be. Saelin’s defensive line has been broken in two places, and our armies are rushing south! He simply doesn’t have enough troops to control such vast territory and defend his positions. Which is exactly what we expected. That’s what our plans were built on, and our strategy is bringing us victories!"

  "Well done." Perhaps it was just the uneven glimmer of sunlight sneaking through the window, but Hugo thought he saw tears glisten in the mage’s eyes. "Well done, Hugo. Keep it up. Hold fast, and show them what a risen Aktida means."

  "Of course," Hellerson smiled and turned to Natall, shaking his hand. "Captain Ganstair, I presume?"

  "The very one," Natall nodded. "And you arrived just in time for departure. By the way, I’ve had a letter from the Mountain Fortress with a proposal for cooperation…"

  "It would be nice to hear your reply, but the Mountain Fortress has already gathered quite a fleet," Hugo said. "Including ships of smugglers, since they’re useful in fighting pirates. If you want to join, we’ll be glad to meet you in Derelzfjord…"

  "Well, I doubt it," Natall shook his head. "Thunder and reefs, I don’t even know myself which way we’ll be coming back from that cursed island… We’ll see, depending on the supplies."

  "We were just discussing the return route," Petros explained. "I suggested taking the long way, through the Archipelago, entering Aktida through the mouth of the Ilvion. And I think our final destination will lie in Onklag."

  "That’s risky," Hugo objected. "Some more news… Orwell Cassander, who was thought dead for some time, has reappeared, and his Charybdis roams the seas. As do many other pirate ships. They control the Western Ocean. You can’t sail a mile without stumbling into a patrol."

  "That’s bad," Petros muttered. "Cassander… Things are taking a serious turn."

  "Nonsense," Natall waved him off. "No reason to worry, Petros, trust me. On the Andromeda, I’ll outrun any pirate ship before it can even load powder into its cannons… The problem is elsewhere. I’m concerned with this question: whose side are the Nocturns on right now?"

  "They supported Saelin." Hugo sighed heavily.

  "So the problem will be food," Natall declared. "The route from Darius Island to the Ilvion’s mouth will take no less than three months, and I can’t haul enough provisions for such a long voyage on one ship. Entering ports on the Islands will be a laborious task. I know only one pier where I’d be welcomed under any circumstances… but we’ll discuss that later, Petros."

  "Yes…" The mage seemed to wake from a trance, his gaze, which had been fixed on the window, returned to Hugo. "True… I can’t imagine how he found out… never mind. Hugo, as I understand it, you’ll take our people to the Mountain Fortress? They won’t find the way on their own."

  "No problem," Hellerson agreed. "I thought you’d ask me that. In particular, Petros, I hope that…"

  "Yuffilis will go with you. I think he’ll come down for breakfast soon, and then you two can have a heart-to-heart," Petros cut him off.

  "I couldn’t dream of a better outcome," Hugo sighed. "Old Lainter is the second man I’ve been wanting to talk to for almost a year, and still couldn’t… And you, Petros, shame on you. To leave us and not get in touch at such a time… We need you there. Dalid says if we put command in your hands, Aktida would be ours not by September, but by June."

  "He flatters me," Petros muttered; Natall chuckled. "Dalid is quite a capable boy; he’ll make something of himself. Especially paired with Yuffilis, who will also take up the reins of tactics and strategy—you’ll be invincible. As for me, I’m needed more somewhere else, where I must go on Captain Ganstair’s ship. Forgive me, Hugo."

  "You forgive me," Hellerson shrugged. "I won’t meddle in the business of mages."

  "Well then, splendid," Petros said good-naturedly. "Sit and have breakfast."