After hearing Germaine’s appeal, Aunt Julia sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “How do you intend to deal with the sacrifice?”

I turn back around, gazing through the wall to see the dark, doll-like figure. Death energy wisps off of it, its outline appearing somewhat smudged, like a charcoal sketch.

“I think it should be enough to dispel the energy. The sacrifice has provided a fresh, potent power source for the inscribed ritual. Removing the source of energy should be sufficient to neuter the ritual’s effects.”

“Why not just destroy the ritual?” Germaine asks.

I walk to the stairs and sit down, facing the two of them.

“I could also do that. But even if the blood inscription is ruined, it's possible that there’s a countermeasure in place, such that breaking the ritual sigils causes an unexpected–and unpleasant–effect.”

Aunt Julia nods. “Often, these kinds of blood arrays compress and store energy until they hit a critical point; then, they’ll release their spell.”

“Sounds like it might be a bit explosive,” Germaine adds.

I take a deep breath and stretch out my shoulders. “Aunt Julia, shall I proceed?”

“Go ahead; it seems like you already know a great deal about blood arrays.”

I snort. “I don’t know that much.” Hercates’ Grimoire actually had a chapter that discussed the ideal way to “package” Death energy for different purposes, including ritual consumption. He was quick to mention the explosive downside of using raw energy in the event that a ritual failed or was interrupted.

I stand up and angle myself toward the wall, then begin to siphon away the energy from the sacrifice, taking care to do so slowly and steadily, lest I risk the blood array flaring up. If I didn’t feel confident, I would’ve taken precautions, such as sending away Aunt Julia and Germaine.

But I am confident: like a river flowing into the sea, the energy passes into me without issue, melding with my own. After siphoning the Death energy from the sacrifice, I control its bones to swipe at and ruin the blood array’s sigils.

“Done.”

“That was quick, nephew. Your control is unquestionable.”

“Thanks,” I reply, not exactly sure how to respond. I sense something deeper in Aunt Julia’s words. Her tone almost sounds...bittersweet?

“You two go back up and see if you can find anything suspicious; I’m going to stay here for a spell and see if I can discern anything.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Germaine assures her.

Germaine and I head out of the basement, leaving Aunt Julia to conduct her Beginning auguries. We spend the rest of the evening wading through the sea of people, trying to find some kind of clue. Though I’m not sure when the array is supposed to activate, by the time we decide to leave, I’m confident its failure should have been noted. Unfortunately, nobody ever acted particularly agitated, the festivities and good cheer remaining uninterrupted the entire evening.

The two of us leave the party from one of the side gates, returning to the path we took on the way in. We sit on a bench overlooking a small pond lined by willow trees, moonlight reflecting off of the still water.

“That could have gone better,” Germaine says. “Yeesh.”

“That was a complete trainwreck,” I say, agreeing wholeheartedly. “I’m not sure how any of us thought we’d be able to detect suspicious behavior.” Aunt Julia is much better suited for that kind of task.

“Maybe Aunt Julia was able to find something.”

Our aunt came back up to the party after dinner, though she went off on her own, informing us that it was easier to judge people’s behavior when there weren’t extra variables hanging around.

“If she did find something, she’d inform us,” I point out, holding up my glossY. “But so far, nothing.”

Germaine picks a willow branch off the ground with her liberated feet, passing it to her hands. The branch is long and supple, and she casts it into the pond like a fishing line.

I decide to bring up something else that had been nagging at me.

“I can’t believe Aunt Julia thought I was afflicted by a death seed. As if that were more likely than me simply awakening a latent affinity, despite coming from a lineage of powerful practitioners.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Germaine says, squeezing my arm. “Her augury probably said it was the most likely possibility, given everything that she knows about you.”

“I guess.”

“You even said it yourself: it’s impossible for you to hide such a high affinity for long. You can barely hide it for a month, isn’t that right?” she says, recalling my explanation of the Academia Hector layer.

“Sometimes it feels hopeless, Germaine.”

“Hopeless? Ian, you’re incredibly powerful. When you get out of this loop, you’ll get to do amazing things.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“My affinity is too high. Don’t you understand?”

She smiles gently and leans her head on my shoulder. “What is there to understand? You’re Julian, my little brother. A less timid, more powerful version of my little brother, but that’s not a bad thing.”

“What am I supposed to do when I get out of here, though?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what I want.” I lean my head against her shoulder. “The problem is that as soon as anyone catches wind of my power, I’ll never be let alone again. I wouldn’t be surprised if I end up assassinated.”

Germaine is quiet for a while. “Didn’t Euryphel tell you to find him when you get out of the loop? He’s the Crowned Prime. He can protect you, right?”

“He seems to think so.”

“So what’s the problem?” she asks.

—

After half an hour of sitting and thinking, I take Germaine back, flying us over the water and onto Menocht Bay’s main beach. We return to the hotel room without saying much, Germaine correctly sensing that I’m not in the mood to talk.

We wake in the morning to a knock on our hotel door.

“Who is it?” Germaine asks sleepily, pulling the sheets over her face.

“It’s Julia,” a voice calls out, muffled by the door. “If you’re both sleeping, you should get up. Brunch is in an hour and a half.”

I pull out my glossY and look at the time. Sure enough, it’s just before 10:30 am.

“Can I come in?” the voice asks again. I roll out of bed and walk over to the door and open it. An impeccably dressed Aunt Julia stands before me.

“Germaine, you take a shower first,” I say, knowing that she needs more time to get ready. I walk over to her sleeping figure. “Come on, get up.”

She opens her eyes and groans. “Fine, fine, I’m getting up.” She stands up and pads over to the bathroom, her legs heavy. The door closes behind her with a click, leaving Aunt Julia and I alone. Aunt Julia walks out onto the balcony, gesturing for me to follow. Closing the sliding door behind us, I sit across from her and wait.

“I do believe that you’re stuck in a dilation loop,” she says, not mincing words.

“What made you change your mind?”

“If I complete my augury assuming that you’ve spent a few years in a dilation loop, everything becomes improbable, rather than impossible.”

I chuckle. “How improbable is improbable?”

Julia gives me a small smile. “Improbable.” She folds her hands over her crossed legs.

“I assume that nothing unexpected happened on your end, either.”

“Yes; I couldn’t find anything out of place. It suggests that it really was someone outside the guests who devised the sacrificial array. And even though nothing happened last night, that doesn’t mean we’re in the clear: Someone with the audacity to attack a gathering of powerful practitioners won’t give up after being thwarted once.”

“Makes sense.”

“Julian...” Aunt Julia murmurs, her voice growing tender. “What happened to you?”

Conscious that we have only a limited amount of time before I need to get ready, I mostly just state a basic outline of events, omitting any in-depth descriptions. She listens without interrupting, her face stoic. I can tell that she’s probably running auguries as I speak, trying to understand how my experiences have shaped me...and whether anything I say raises any discrepancies. Whether I’m lying.

Though I explain everything coarsely, none of it is false. I finish my story in twenty minutes.

“Well?” I ask, giving her a look. “What do you think?”

“I’m glad I’m not a Remorse practitioner,” she says thoughtfully. “I think what you’ve been through is best considered from a distance.”

“I’d have to agree,” I reply, grimacing. “This loop is like a nightmare that never ends.”

“I think I have an idea of why this is happening to you,” she says suddenly, eyes intense. “Though I can’t be certain.”

I incline my head. “Really?”

“Yes, really. The National University of Selejo has been working on a project that’s garnered a lot of ire in the past few years. It’s caused quite a stir in bloodline practitioner circles,” she explains. “It’s a project that, at its heart, seeks to overturn the belief that being a noteworthy practitioner is largely determined by blood.”

“What does it have to do with me?” I ask, genuinely confused. What use is someone who comes from a powerful bloodline to such a study?

“The researchers on that project are trying to find a method to awaken latent affinities. The idea is that far more people have the potential to be practitioners than we believe.” She raises an eyebrow. “You can see why a family like ours would be against such a project, right?”

I nod slowly. “Is there any evidence that the project’s hypothesis has any merit?”

Aunt Julia sighs and looks away wistfully, though there was a hint of some other emotion in her gaze. Was it...guilt?

“The project has been going on for a few years now, receiving a sizable amount of funds from the Selejan military. As far as I know, they’ve only recently secured the funds to start conducting clinical trials on people.

“One thing I do know is that the researchers have some evidence suggesting that some people never naturally awaken to strong affinities because the barrier to do so is too high. In other words, the more powerful the dormant affinity, the more likely it is to be latent.”

I nod along. Technically, all infants, whether destined to be practitioners or otherwise, have low affinities. It’s only after a few years that children differentiate and strong affinities start to manifest. What Aunt Julia’s saying is that it might be easier for lower natural affinities to manifest naturally. Meanwhile, for someone like me...the affinity might lay dormant, too powerful to awaken without an extreme stimulus.

“You think that I might be in a dilation loop as part of this clinical trial?”

“It’s more than a little probable, going off of what information I have. Especially given your family, your exceptional status as a non-practitioner, your close proximity to the National University, and...well.” She coughs. “If they had a suspicion that you would awaken as a decemancer, it becomes even more probable.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Latent decemancers are known for awakening in life-or-death situations, when they’re subjected to extreme duress. A dilation loop is thus the perfect stressor: It’s a nightmare where you can stare death in the face repeatedly. If there was any kind of affinity most likely to awaken in a dilation loop, it would be Death.”

I ponder her words. “I see.” I thrum my fingers against the arm of my chair. “And you think that this experiment is the most probable cause of my current situation?”

“Augury is imperfect,” she cautions me. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in what I’ve said. Anything is possible.”

The warning is valid, but I think she’s being modest. “It’s a plausible theory. More plausible than anything I’ve come up with before.” Perhaps this means that I won’t wake up to find myself chained into servitude by a life-death oath.

Germaine knocks on the glass door to the balcony while holding a towel over her hair.

“We can talk more about this later,” Aunt Julia says lightly. “Get ready for now. It’s important you come to this brunch in case anything else threatening shows up. And given the fact that this is likely just a layer in the dilation loop, we should expect trouble.

“Also...I’m sorry. For yesterday, for doubting you. And for everything that you’ve experienced. It must have been difficult.”

I stop for a moment, considering her words. “Thank you.”