Now that the pain was bearable, I could focus on my time magic enough to utilize it. Wanton use of my powers recently had left me exhausted, but anything was better than the horror awaiting me. As soon as I realized what was coming, I returned a few minutes in time to consider my options, to when Zephyr's hired men still carried me through the camps. Though the paralytic still affected me enough to make deep breathing impossible, I focused on calming myself against the rising panic.

Paimon mentioned my fate was sealed as part of Astaroth's destiny. Struggling should be hopeless, but the Goetia were not omniscient. If their karmic magic truly fastened reality itself on an immutable path they would be the undisputed rulers of the world. There must be a way.

How could I convince Zephyr not to enter the tesseract without being able to speak to her? Though lacking fine motor control, I could attempt to write something in the snow. Whatever pathetic struggle I could manage would not be enough to overcome her. If she was not willing to listen, it would be impossible to convince her of anything.

How could I get her attention?

After the man carrying me dumped me on the ground, I enacted my first plan: writing in the snow. I could flail my arms about enough to displace snow in an uneven line. Any true message was impossible. Perhaps if I delayed her long enough, I could regain enough function to communicate.

When Zephyr returned from chasing my oblivious carriers she once more looked at the sky and cursed.

For the first time I noticed she wore my porcelain sword at her hip, fastened in its makeshift loop of cloth. She must have left my Bakkel behind but there were hundreds of the things out there. The porcelain sword was a priceless treasure even without considering Paimon's words. Dasein, he had called it, mentioning something about how it was bound to find me across all of time and reality.

The implications were staggering. If I had just claimed the sword within the past day, that meant we had a future together. Which meant I would not---could not---die soon, because at some point I would have to have bonded with it. Maybe? What if I killed myself and chose to eliminate any possible future where that happened? Would it disappear as if it never existed? Dasein defied the principle of sufficient construction, Heizel’s indeterminacy of time, the entropic loop...

I could not afford to waste my energy on such thoughts. Even forgetting the poison, I had exerted both of my powers frequently and had not slept since before the tesseract unraveled. Traces of mesfera still lingered in my system. Adrenaline was the only reason I could function.

The second plan worked no better. Loathe to waste my time magic, I reached for the void and released a small burst at her boots. The ripples spreading outward from her feet flickered before returning to normal. Just enough to get her attention. She unsheathed her poisoned blade. Too much attention. I reversed time to right before the nullification, uninterested in another taste of her poison.

Was it truly hopeless? All I wanted to do was surrender, to close my eyes against the crushing fatigue and let fate run its course. The migraine thumping between my ears was beginning to overwhelm the agony coursing through my veins. Even that small burst of nullification took its toll.

Was this the true nature of the Echo of Paimon, the one who unraveled the tesseract, who killed one of the Four Winds? The powerful being who would reverse time far enough to save his father from the Archon of Flames? In the end, nothing more than a weak, sniveling boy, begging his enemy for mercy.

If I surrendered now, everything I had done since the beginning was pointless. All the suffering, the indecision, all the times I questioned my own sanity. All of it could have been avoided if I just let the Magister's flames consume me.

I screamed with all of my might. Though it was nothing more than a low whistle, I put everything I had into it. Zephyr sneered at me as I flailed in the direction of the city. I whistled until my eyes burned from hemorrhaging blood vessels. Her expression turned to disbelief, then even a touch of concern, as my whistling screams dragged on. Over and over I smashed my face into the thin layer of snow, abandoning all reason. With everything I had I tried to communicate my intention.

Not a warning to turn back from the city. No begging. The fire in my chest grew, washing away the pain and the fatigue. These people put me through so much. More than any man should suffer through.

Not even I knew what words I attempted to scream. Intention overwhelmed everything else:

Take me, then. I will be the end of everything. Demon lords, divine children. Every sneering face and mocking tone. Tie your destiny to me, if that is your wish. After me, there will be nothing.

Zephyr unrolled her cloth of vials and selected a needle.

Do it. Bring me in. This time, I will be the only one leaving.

When she pricked my arm with the sedative, I grinned wide and wild. As the darkness closed in, I found great joy in how Zephyr could not bring herself to even look at me.

* * *

Desolada, the realm of air and fire.

Some few great minds anchored it to reality. The One Who Rages. The One Who Waits. The One Who Yearns. The One Who Feasts. The One Who Rules. It was only their existence that revealed the truth of the cosmos. Before these beholders, there was only nothingness, since nothing could comprehend existence.

In a way, they were the entire universe.

A new mind blossomed. Within the tempest of flames that raged throughout the cosmos, a crown of horns materialized. First came the tips, so infinitesmal they seemed to emerge from irreality. They grew downwards in an expanding fractal, forming great prongs, secured to a forehead of pure white. And below that a face, fine and noble. A neck. A body. Molded from the void. Something from nothing.

Within the Universal Conflagration, Paimon opened his eyes.

* * *

I woke up in a comfortable bed. In that first moment nothing made sense. It was the opposite of dreaming, a certainty that what I was experiencing was not real---that it could not possibly be real. I sorted through the events I could remember over the past several days, arranging them in a sequence that seemed correct enough. This moment happened in the Mental Realm, that event was really just a nightmare. I wondered how accurate I was at telling the difference.

Most of all I remembered the end. That all-consuming rage. Though sleep had calmed the rising fury, ripples of it still sent twitches through my body. My hands clenched as I remembered what Zephyr had put me through.

And that vision...the birth of a god, a being so far beyond me that it defied comprehension. Sensi said that Echoes experienced some of their patron's thoughts, incongruent moments the mind attempted to piece together in dreams. The depth and complexity of Paimon's memories made him seem so much more real than me, so much greater of a presence, that it felt as if I were nothing more than an insect attempting to comprehend a human's thoughts.

A migraine pounded behind my temples. I felt like I had been dragged behind a horse all the way back from Journey, which was not so far off. And in the end I had ended up here. Within Odena. Within the tesseract.

“You’re awake,” said a voice.

A middle-aged Narahven man sat in a plush armchair beside my bed. His bald head and the laughter lines around his eyes gave him the appearance of an old monk. A stylized tattoo of the cardinal directions divided his forehead into quadrants. Grey suit. Legs crossed at the knee, teacup in one hand, saucer balanced on his other palm, he looked like an illustration from an etiquette manual.

I extended my magical awareness towards him. Nothing. That concerned me more than discovering a blaze of power.

My mouth felt like a desert. "Which Wind are you?"

He took a sip of tea. Porcelain clinked as he placed the cup back on the saucer. “All of them, I suppose.”

“The patriarch himself.” I felt nothing after the realization. Not hatred, not fear. He may be divine, but he was still just a man.

“None other,” he said. “By all rights you should be in a cell a mile below the earth. You are curious, though. I’ve always been fond of curious things. Water for the gentleman, please.”

We were the only two people in the room but he spoke with complete confidence. A servant slipped into the room and set a decanter of water on my bedside table. I spilled most of it over my face and chest as I drank. What little made it into my mouth was pure heaven.

Someone had changed me into loose-fitting cotton. Ointment glistened on the dozens of little wounds on my arms. Sunlight streamed through an open window. After being paralyzed and dragged around I had to admit I was surprised to find myself in such a nice infirmary.

“At the risk of sounding arrogant,” said the man, ”did you really not know who I am? Perhaps I should commission more statues.”

His casual tone and the fact I wasn't shackled in some torture chamber reassured me the situation was not completely hopeless.

“Archon Vasely,” I said.

He winked. “I must admit I am not so noble as they say. You are a guest in my palace but this entire time I have been watching you, arguing with myself about whether I should strangle you in your sleep. My city has been your shelter and how have you repaid me? Consorting with demons. Killing Barrow, sent to lawfully detain you. I hope your explanation is excellent.”

"Your son drew his spear against me," I said. "It is the fate of all warriors to succumb to a greater foe, whether man or death itself."

His smile was broad, tombstone teeth gleaming white. "The philosophers have educated you well. Iniver's War As Life, chapter three, paragraph ten, sentence two. You are, of course, correct, but what use is there in being a god if your will does not supercede such absurd tenets? Fortunately for you, Barrow is---was--- not my son. None of the Winds are. They are merely the most promising members of my tribe, brought to these so-called 'Civilized Lands' to become my Echoes. If Archons could have divine children, we would all create our own clan of godlings. But the common man does not think about such things. I say something, they listen."

A disgusting, pathetic hope flared to life within me. "Then what are your intentions with me?"

"I merely wanted to question you about what is occurring," said the Archon. "You see, Barrow has been a very bad Echo. The man has always despised this world of stone buildings and paved roads. Most of my people yearn to escape the desert. To flee the behemoths whose footprints form craters in the sand. To no longer wage great battles just to claim water from an oasis inhabited by monsters. But Barrow was that special breed of man who hungers only for power. To be worshipped and acclaimed. His sister is also desperate to prove herself, but at least she is civil."

Zephyr was supposed to be civil? I wanted to laugh.

The laughter lines around Vasely's eyes crinkled as he judged my reaction. "You must realize, many of you Civilized Folk consider us savages. If I was not an Archon, they would have waged war against my people and annexed us forcefully. We speak a different language and look a little different, which somehow makes us barbaric. Though every child learns at least three dialects from infancy. Every one of us is literate, even if each tribe only has a small library of sacred books, faded by age and sand and a thousand hands flipping through it. So imagine how much a man like Barrow despised your kind."

Given his cheerful demeanor and the lack of fiery brands sizzling against my flesh, it was best not to antagonize the Archon. I had many words for him but none of them seemed smart to voice. My time magic could reverse any serious gaffes, but if I could detect traces of magic in others, I had no doubt the Archon would immediately notice. Most likely he already knew everything just by looking at me, but no need to worsen my chances further.

I had not forgotten my rage. Only the insanity that came with it. Screaming and attacking the Archon would accomplish nothing. If revenge was possible, I would have to be cold.

"Respectfully," I said, "what is your point?"

"The point is that Barrow was compromised. He came to kill you, to tie up all of the loose ends that would reveal his deception. While I was conferring with other Archons outside of the city, he laid plans without my knowledge. The spectacle in the Amphitheater was specifically designed to bind us closely to Desolada. The oracles are their priesthood. To slay them is one of the greatest sins among the demons. The karmic bond this forged is unfathomable."

"The demons have priests?"

"Us Archons have priests," said Vasely. "I heard what the demon called you when Amelie in Yellow broke open, for lack of a better term. 'Child of Paimon.' His taint is thick upon you. You are a clever boy, Leones Ansteri. Between me and your master, which of us do you think deserves to be worshipped as a god?"

Denying the truth would get me nowhere. Vasely could have done anything with me and no one would have thought twice about my fate. Odena was legendary in part because of his tolerance and willingness to permit individualistic freedoms. People who would be ostracized anywhere else called Odena their home. He had done nothing to earn my ire. If I could make an ally of the Archon, being trapped within such a massive tesseract was...survivable.

"You already seem to know almost everything," I said. "I may have some interesting knowledge to fill in the gaps."

Vasely leaned forward, sipping his tea. "Excellent. Go on."

"First, can you tell me what is happening within the city?"

The laughter lines around his eyes disappeared. After explaining so much to me, those were the words that enraged him?

"For the past seven days, it has been impossible to leave Odena," he said. "There appears to be a boundary approximately a hundred feet outside of the city walls. Once someone passes that boundary, they say that the world around them completely changed. From outside they cannot see the guards around the perimeter. From the inside, not even I can escape this barrier. I imagine at some point nearly every citizen has tried their luck at escaping. There are so many that the guards can only bind them with ropes and cart them back once they've captured enough."

So the people within Odena had experienced seven days compared to less than a day spent outside. Good to know.

"Do things return to their prior state after an entire day passes?" I said.

"No," said the Archon. "We have interrogated the survivors of Amelie in Yellow extensively. That demonic construct served a different purpose than the barrier around the city, though I suspect they share many similarities. The time distortion remains but the regenerative properties do not seem to extend to the city. The amount of power required to do something like that to such a large area would extinguish the sun itself within a few months. So, what is it that you can tell me, that the others cannot?"

Paimon had never told me to lie or keep what he told me a secret, after all. Could he possibly be offended by this conversation with the Archon? If he wished to place such restrictions on me, he could have forced some sort of oath. Instead our relationship seemed built on a mutual understanding: I would serve him and carry out his will in exchange for power and knowledge. If I failed to do this, consequences would surely follow, but outside of such restrictions I had free rein.

"The demonic construct is known as a tesseract." My voice cracked. I took another sip of water, careful not to spill it everywhere despite my shaking hands. "Its purpose was simple. Whoever survived would become one of Astaroth's Echoes. If you haven't discovered this already, Amelie in Yellow was not the only tesseract within the city."

The Archon's locked eyes with me for what felt like an eternity before he responded. "No new tesseracts have been uncovered since the one you came from. Their goal must not yet be accomplished. Do you know why Astaroth is selecting a new batch of recruits within the city? I have suspicions, none of which I like."

"I'm afraid not," I said.

Vasely rubbed his jaw. "Then I have one last question for you. When Zephyr returned you to the city, you possessed a certain sword. It bears an uncanny resemblance to the weapon within the demon's chest, though we found no trace of it at Amelie in Yellow. What compelled you to take that sword?"

Revealing the whole truth behind Dasein would spring an entire new conversation I did not want to go down. I forced myself to admit some of it. If the weapon was destined for my hand, not even an Archon could keep it for himself.

"The sword was the keystone to the tesseract," I said. "I could feel something strange emanating from it. The power Paimon bestowed upon me allows me to nullify magic, at least to an extent. I unraveled the tesseract by directing his power into the sword. When the tesseract fell, the demon killed itself. It said that it wanted to escape retribution from Astaroth for failing."

The Archon nodded. "I heard that last part. Once your so-called tesseract fell, Amelie in Yellow suddenly appeared within my hearing again. Such an anomaly caught my attention immediately. I must say, I do appreciate your candor. Unfortunately, given everything that has happened, I cannot allow you to roam the city as a free man. You will remain within the palace for now. You will be provided a suite and servants, but you are not to attempt to leave. In the meantime, I will investigate your claim that other tesseracts exist within the city. We shall speak again soon."

As soon as he finished speaking, soldiers filed into the room. The Archon slipped past them without another word.

They hoisted me to my feet roughly, ignoring my complaints. This wasn't an alliance. How arrogant of me to think that Vasely would treat me as some sort of partner or friend. I was a prisoner once again. A fancier cage, but a cage nonetheless. Once he squeezed all the information out of me, he cast me aside like trash.

I was growing tired of prisons.

Still weak as a babe, I dangled between the guards' arms, seeing no reason to help them in moving me. Their curses fell on deaf ears. Most of all I cursed myself: still sniveling, still begging my enemies for help.

Down a hallway festooned with art. We came to a spiral staircase leading up several floors. They had to drag me up it.

As we passed up one of the flights of stairs on the way to my new cage, I saw a familiar figure down one of the corridors. Incandescent rage filled my body at the sight of him.

Champion Jokul stood at attention in front of a random door, hands clasped behind his back. When he noticed my gaze, he smiled and nodded.