Time Eats All His Children in the End

[Finn]

The Prædium Sorokys, Luxium
69th of Searing, 124 Annus Ferro

some might say we're released,
pushing daisies, deceased,
but we all know the worms must be fed.
there's just one ling'ring fear:
oh, my soul, is it here
or is it rotting somewhere with my head?

This time, it was Finn who commanded, though he couched them as invitations.

While he could not open a portal directly into the Luxian palace—the Regent claimed reasons—so Arkænyn would have to make his own way to the Prædium Sorokys, he had offered a portal to the Umbrian palace for Phædreon if he so desired, but now that he had emerged from seclusion, Finn wondered if he wouldn't want to wander through the city on his own power, filling in the gaps of scroll and song with visceral experience of the Atraxian capital. It mattered little to Finn so long as they both arrived and planning could begin in earnest.

He had spent quite a bit of time studying archival works on chronomancy, as well as the Vigilia's files on Thalya Derelicta. Even now as he waited, a half-eaten date in one hand, he pored over a copy of an ancient diary of the Phædryn time lord. He was rather convinced that it was written in some cypher that they hadn't yet cracked, perhaps because there were no other chronomancers that he knew of in the Vigilia.

The sun on his skin from the window felt nice. It might have been a little holiday at home if it weren't for the impending meeting.

When he wasn't attending to his duties, he was training, the better to take down his prey. Even quality time spent with young Syrena often took the form of magical tricks to delight her and carrying her hither and thither upon his shoulders for the added exercise.

Just now, though, he looked much as how some people saw him: the pampered consort of the crown prince.

[Pharaoh]

In the days since Finn had accepted Arkænyn's humble entreaty, the Platinum Prince had been diligent in helping to prepare for their common mission. Arkænyn may not have had the most balanced character, but he did have an obsessive bent that made him quite attentive to those matters that specifically concerned him. Finn had, by this point, learned that the prince was beyond furious about the attempt on his life. Disarmed by Finn's Majesty, he allowed himself to stand before the human unwarded; an exceedingly rare display of vulnerability for a prince royal of House Sol'Aværys. His symphony rose in bombastic discord when the matter was broached, and Finn would get the sense that he was also channeling his hurt and frustration at being cast aside by the Conclave of Electors. He confessed that, despite their reticence on whatever was being discussed behind closed doors, he was less and less hopeful about his prospects of succeeding his derelict mother on the Radiant Throne. What had once seemed a sure thing, now felt farther and farther from his reach. He was also confounded that he and the other candidates for Solar Sovereign were being held in a seemingly endless purgatory, while the Conclave of Electors seemed perfectly content to let their senior member serve as regent indefinitely while they, in Arkænyn's opinion, neglected their duty to the realm.

Whether it was the power of Finn's Corona Sublimis, Arkænyn's obvious sense of isolation or a combination of the two, the Platinum Prince promptly came to see Finn as a friend and confidante. Even making the occasional inquiry about Finn's life and state-of-mind in the midst of sharing his own.

On this occasion, he arrived at Finn's estate with his long arms full of documents; excerpts from tomes he'd reviewed in Aur'arnis and copied down for Finn's inspection. While the human had been poring over Sentinel archives, he'd been diligently studying the broader scoping offerings available to him at the Library of Lyren, due to his relationship as former ward to House d'Averyx.

Prince Arkænyn handed the documents off to the servus who greeted him at the door, and followed him to find Finn lounging before a window, framed by its gold curtains and the sunlight graced him like a nimbus.

"Don't you look cozy." Arkænyn mused wryly, "So, is it really true? Today is the day I'm finally meeting our chronomantic chaperone? He's finally emerged from his burrow? I wonder if Lords of Time tend to be punctual... I could see that going either way."

[Finn]

As Arkænyn proved as good as his word and seemed to adhere to the spirit of Finn's law as well as the letter of it, the bard reciprocated without being asked. He was open, allowing the prince into his heart as well as his confidence. In Solunarium, his native empathy had been treated like a disease by some, but he thought it could be a strength, especially if it helped forge a partnership that helped them achieve their shared goal and, perhaps, last beyond that. Whether Arkænyn acceded to the solar throne or only redeemed himself from his mother's shadow, Finn would see that as a political win.

"I'm a peregrinus," he reminded the prince with a wry smile. "I don't maintain my perfect mask even as I sleep. Make yourself cozy if you wish." He was nodding. "His Chronomantic Highness is scheduled to join us. He was rather... hm... chaotic when I spoke directly with him, but I don't know if that is a trait he will carry forward now that he has acclimated to our moment."

Finn hadn't seen Phædreon socially or otherwise since his emergence, though he knew that his invisible crown gave him some precedence in the Time Lord's priority list. He might have vaulted forward in time—at least, Finn thought of traveling through time as he had been trained to travel through space—to see the return of the Divine Twins in his lifetime, but he hadn't come to shirk his duties as a Phædryn princeps.

But this wasn't a social call, no matter how he attempted to put Arkænyn at his ease. His eyes strayed toward the documents in the hands of his servus, and he found himself equally eager to read and adverse to wrapping his mind around this arcane, secret magic.

"We can compare notes in the meantime," he offered, "or offer each other a summation of our findings."

He wondered if Arkænyn would seek the Rune of Æternus, whether he ought to yearn for it himself. It would certainly be a powerful tool, though he wasn't sure the benefits outweighed the costs.

[Pharaoh]

Arkænyn didn’t hesitate to make himself comfortable, taking a seat and crossing his long legs. He’d always had a natural air of ease about him, but Finn could sense now that there was no illusion or pretense in this moment.

“Well, I’m not sure what you’ve gleaned from your research, but what comes up a lot in my reading is that not all versions of reality follow the same rules. We are fortunate in that we’ll have a guide who can hopefully keep us out of the more hostile realities. Due to its scarcity as a Rune, a lot of chronomancers begin with a treacherous game of trial and error.” He glanced to the stack of papers he’d brought.

“I was intrigued to learn that, when visiting a reality in which you exist, you either assume the place of your alternate self or you remain as yourself. Some universes will only allow one version of you to exist at a time, others will permit multiple versions of you to exist at once, but it is typically dangerous to meet yourself in those.

“I also learned that there are different schools of thought as to the preeminence of what is called a Prime Timeline. It has to do with the distinction between Fate and Destiny, but the Aurisian consensus is that we are indeed upon a Prime Timeline and that offshoots are, after a fashion, lesser in the eyes of the gods. But gods interact with these realities differently than we… or at least they can, and from there things got rather too esoteric for me to properly follow. The reading is dense, so I did you the kindness of having it translated from Silandris to your Common mother tongue. And what did you learn?”

[Finn]

Finn had already marveled at how quickly the abrasive prince had become, well, like a friend in the sense that he had them previous to Solunarium. Now, he just went with it. He listened, attentive, nodding at what corroborated his findings, looking thoughtful at nuances that were new to him.

"I can read Vastian just fine," he reminded him dryly, but laughed it off. "Thank you." Someday, perhaps, he would be able to shoot the shit in Silandris, but not anytime soon.

The prince's consort sighed and raked his fingers back through his hair, sitting up and arranging his own papers such that they would be easier for Arkænyn to grok when he got to reading, whether they got to reading each others notes before or after Phædreon made his appearance.

"Quite a bit of esoterica on my side, as well," he admitted. "Quite a bit of practical knowledge for the novice chronomancer, though I don't know that the Vigilia would allow one to live without a proper mentor. Too dangerous. In any case, the bulk of that had to do with mastering different skills along the path to mastery. What a grandmaster can accomplish, well, either hasn't been put to vellum or hasn't been shared with me.

"I now know what a chronomancer can do, how it overlaps with Kinetics and Traversion, but little specifically about protecting ourselves if a chronomancer were to thrust us into a different reality. I don't know whether Phædreon might accompany us to take care of the... wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff... or whether he will just... kick us into another timestream." He picked out a particular page.

"A Kalzasern asset with access to Sol'Valen told me about a Hytori freedom fighter who apparently pops in and out of our timeline at random due to a mistake with a powerful artefact which may or may not be in the possession of the Court of Princes now. Not... that that helps us. But I have requested a list of artefacts the Vigilia might have to aid us in this endeavor. Phocion responded with a request for a mission prospectus, which... perhaps we can come up with after we confabulate with the Time Lord himself.

"I have some small skill with Negation and if Phædreon can show me the aetheric signatures that might damage us, I could provide some protection." He held up his hands.

"It all depends upon Phædreon, though. If he cannot get us to Thalya safely, or empower us to do so, we might have no choice but to petition the Immortals. I could ask Qalanar for a favor, but it would be a big ask."

[Pharaoh]

"I've no doubt you can, but I was raised speaking and reading Silandris and, even in my first language, some of this text was difficult to follow. It's heady stuff, so I figure your native tongue will make it at least a bit easier to process. Fewers filters and all that." Arkænyn nodded at Finn's findings.

"Yes, given the obvious threats posed, I'm not surprised it's so heavily regulated in Auris and tacitly banned in Solunarium. I did speak to Prince Qalanar about all of this when I was in Auris, and he did indicate that The Immortals seem displeased with my mother's abuse of the power they entrusted to her. I asked whether they might lend us aid, but got the sense that they're going to let us take the lead and see how we do on our own. Given the way this all works, there may be other forces on Ransera who have an interest in putting a halt to her machinations. There's really no telling what damage she might wreak, even unintentionally."

"Quite right." Phædreon offered softly, as he phased into occupying a space next to Arkænyn. "Oh, a proto-Deiori! How lovely is he?" The Moonborn forebear reached down to touch the soft hair of the startled starlit prince.

"Uh... Thank you, Your... Resplendence?"

"Why not? Sure. Please, remain seated. No need to grovel just because I am old... or at least from a long time ago. I will sit." As he did so, spirits began to phase into his vicinity at seemingly random intervals, as well. Some were the same Finn had seen, some he'd seen prior were no longer present, and a few new entities were making an orbit around the elder elf.

"I have been able to narrow the search down to a few possible branches. I cannot say for certain where she is at present, but it has not been challenging to find where she has been. I have been at this Craft for far longer and she is, by comparison, rather sloppy. Oh! The proto-Deiori must be the son, yes?"

Arkænyn, seeming confounded at being spoken about rather than addressed, spoke up.

"Yes... the aggrieved son she tried to assassinate with two simulacra she must have picked up in some other reality."

"How droll."

[Finn]

Finn smiled wryly.

"As much as I enjoy being able to speak to anyone whether we share a language or not," he mused, "I do wish Divine Aværys allowed me to understand all languages if they were my own. Not that I'm complaining..." He certainly didn't want divine gifts revoked.

Not displeased enough to police her after giving her the wherewithal to fuck Time, he was going to say, but then Phædreon appeared.

"That was sidestepping," he supplied helpfully for Arkænyn. At least, he assumed that Phædreon had found a timeline where those walls didn't exist and used it to walk through them, but he assumed the Time Lord had powers beyond what Finn had read about.

"Oh, he's very lovely." Finn smirked, a bit more used to the mercurial communications coming at them. He was amused, but the last bit made his smile wither.

"She was certainly dramatic, but I don't know that it was droll, Your Resplendence." But the platinum pretty boy brought up a good point. "Is it possible that she his changing enough... interfering enough with Fate... that Fate might catch up with her before we do?" Or would they be the agents of Fate that brought about her ruin? That was preferable, assuming they wouldn't be ruined by the process. "Or is there at least a pattern to her movements through time that we might extrapolate where... when she will go next?"

Enough time had passed since he first met Phædreon and made the devil's bargain with Arkænyn that he had read some treatises on the nature of time that had given him headaches, so he hoped that Phædreon would simplify things somewhat. They would have to maintain what mental resilience that had in order to travel through time at all, he imagined.

[Pharaoh]

"Side-stepping, phasing, phase-shifting, the list goes on. We practitioners of Æternus are not great with conformity... uniformity? I know they basically mean the same thing, but I'm not sure about connotations... mine or theirs." Phadreon trailed off, "And what is the pretty Platty's name?" He asked, eyeing the prince up and down.

"Arkænyn Princeps."

"Your Serene Highness, then. I shall have to be more respectful of tongue than of thought." He looked sharply at Finn.

"We all have our differing senses of humour and you may find in dealing with my ilk... those of us who've been at it for a long time... we are more watchers than actors after a time. It is easier, safer this way... That is why I love stories so much. They keep life interesting when mine is, after its fashion, inert. And lacking the relationships you do to any of those involved, I must say it's quite an amusing tale." Then questions were posed and he considered.

"In a word: Yes. It is possible. From what I've seen in the streams of Time, I would not say it is necessarily likely. What she did at the Masque was the boldest move she's made on the Prime timeline. Whatever machinations she undergoes in the other realities is less impactful to Fate. I do not think she is moving about terribly much. She isn't practised enough to do so safely and her being dealt with by Destiny before you acted would be much more likely if she kept phasing between unknown dimensions, where she might wind up in an inhospitable one. There are realities in which chronomancy is impossible, and so one can phase into them and find themselves powerless to phase back out... marooned forever in an alien universe. Gods my Craft is complicated and strange. But I have a good idea of a few places she might be, and I can take you there."

[Finn]

Finn opened his mouth to introduce them properly, but the prince beat him too it. He just shrugged at Phædreon's look.

"We have dispensed with formality, much as we do in the Vigilia Argenti when our veils are raised. I have Arkænyn's word as bond, and he has my confidence. I have been studying chronomantic theory since last we spoke here, and he has had access to the Library of Lyren in Auris. We are as prepared as possible without further instruction from a chronomancer." Here he gave Phædreon a reciprocal sharp look.

"I will endeavor to survive until your next jaunt into our timeline so there will be one more familiar face." His lips quirked a kinder smile; the exigencies of Solunarian politics hadn't yet stamped out his empathy.

When Phædreon said, 'I can take you there,' Finn wondered if the elf meant now. Certainly, he could prepare himself quickly with the help of the servi, but Phocion had demanded an operational analysis before he would even tell Finn what artefacts they might have at their disposal.

"Are we... in the planning phases as I assumed, or should I be gearing up for surfing the time stream?"

Even his lounge wear was, he was told, warded akin to that of his Sentinel blacks. He had married into a royal house and was one of the even rarer Radiant. While he was not shielded from danger, as surviving danger was how he would prove that he belonged in the upper echelons of Solunarian society, he was warded from magical espionage, mind control, and the like at all times.

[Pharaoh]

“I may not be skipping ahead, now that the Founders are returned. The whole purpose of that was to subtly pave the path piece by piece without literally tempting Fate. With my ultimate goal having been achieved, there is no such motivation. I am, once again, alive in Their time and may devote my life and talents to Serving Them.” Phædreon clarified.

Arkænyn blinked, startled at the elder’s apparent preparedness to embark straight away.

“If, as you say, you are as ready as can be without my aid, then you have fulfilled the prerequisite task I set out for you. I see no need to tarry.” The ancient mage observed blithely, one shoulder rising and falling in a cavalier shrug.

“The Vigilia provided me with a thorough report on the events of the Masque.” The time mage explained, “It was noted, Prince Arkænyn, that there were two variants of you and the Sentinels were able to deduce that they were from the same timeline. This is a pivotal detail, because it means they came from a version of reality in which your cells split in the womb. She did not go to several realities to cherry-pick her favourite Arkænyns, she found a dimension where she bore twins and raised them to adulthood in Solunarium. Meaning, she did not feel as threatened there, meaning she probably killed her rival. Do you see how the threads grow thinner and thinner the more we deduce? Identical twins are very rare, you know. I will not bore you with the breadth of nuance into which I delved, but suffice it to say I will need to use you, Highness, as a touchstone to further narrow the field. Give me your hand, pray…”

Arkænyn looked anxiously to Finn.

“Are we really doing this now?”

Phædreon glanced to Finn,

“I’m in no rush if you aren’t, but the option stands.”