The demons assaulted us a year and a half later.

That morning I was laying on my cot, hands crossed behind my head.

Today had been letter day. After learning about the changes to conscription, I had been waiting for word from my father. When the war had first started, veterans like him were given an exemption from forced recruitment. Evidently things had gone bad enough that my fifty-year-old father had been torn from his position as head of Ansteri Cloth; a Velassan official had been appointed in his stead. Though my father was careful not to complain within the contents of his monitored letter, I could sense the mounting frustration behind his words.

The sudden clang of bells startled me from my reverie. Three peals, a pause, another three peals. The signal for an enemy assault, and not just a simple scout being discovered near the premises.

The relaxed atmosphere within the barracks became a frenzy as we rushed to fully clothe ourselves and assemble. Though sometimes the superior officers tested the alarm system to make sure we stayed alert, the three-peal signal was forbidden from being used in anything except a true assault on the compound.

I buckled my sword into place and fell in beside one of my friends, Pan.

The bulky older man shook his head at me. "Demons haven't attacked this fortification in a hundred years. Piss luck we have, Leones."

"The castle's never fallen, either." I kept my voice steady.

A blatant lie. The bundle of papers at the bottom of my storage chest had warned me about this day long ago.

Since I had been sent to the Frontier, I had pursued my training with a focus that impressed many of the others around me. As such, the others my age tended to avoid my company, as they preferred spending their free time in pursuits beyond additional sword training and studying military theory. A few folk, like Pan, had been impressed with my work ethic, but had cautioned me to slow down. Grunts like us made no difference in the war. It came down to all of us functioning as an effective unit---and, of course, the true heroes of the Frontier: the Echoes.

"Don't worry," said Pan, perhaps sensing some of my true discomfort beneath the bravado, "I'll be right here beside you."

* * *

It took fifteen minutes for the demons to annihilate our fortifications.

I did stay with Pan until the end, holding his hand as he attempted to stuff his intestines back into his stomach. His desperate sobs pierced the eerie silence that had settled over the immediate area.

A demon had tracked us through the corridors as we fled, its pace casual after noticing how severe our injuries were. Blue ichor dripped from my broken sword. The blade had shattered against a demon's chitin after an exchange of blows, though I had managed to finish the bastard by jamming the remaining length of jagged metal into its throat.

When Pan could no longer force one foot into another, he collapsed to the floor, bringing me down with him. His lips attempted to mumble an apology. After the light died from his eyes, I looked down the corridor behind us.

The pursuing demon stood twice as tall as a man, its head bowed to avoid brushing the ceiling. Ornate gold patterns swirled along its translucent skin. Instead of eyes, golden lines originating from where its ears should be spread along its upper skull in an abstract impression of a staring gaze. Its mouth was fixed in a wild grin with far too many teeth.

For some reason, I did not think of my parents or my own sad, pathetic life. Not of all the time I had spent training, just to be slightly better with the sword than the average soldier. I remembered that day I had stood on the roof of my family manor, willing myself to throw myself off the building. To commit suicide in exchange for the power to control time. But I had been too much of a coward to go through with it, and the more I considered it over the years, the greater the mental determination I could never go through with it.

Now, as the demon's lumbering steps ate up the distance between us, I stared at the length of steel in my hand. When I pressed the jagged edge against my throat, the demon's grin seemed to widen.

Closing my eyes, I finally found my courage.

* * *

My eyelids fluttered open. Once more I way laying on my cot, hands crossed behind my head. For a moment I wondered if I had passed out. It would not be the first time I had a nightmare about the prophecied day when my power would manifest; the longer I spent here, the more frequent they became.

Then the bells began.

The frenzy that took hold of the barracks repeated in the same manner as before. Unable to muster the energy to stand and grab my weapon, I sat on the side of the bed, staring at the storage chest containing the 'future papers'. Part of me wanted to skim over the relevant details again, but I had long since memorized every word within the first few pages. The papers warned not to continue further unless it was necessary, and though I had ignored their advice and read most of the contents besides the final few pages, I had never performed the various exercises or guided meditations within.

So, my time magic brought me back fifteen minutes in the past? A useful trick, but not enough to influence the morbid destiny about to befall us.

Pan hurried over and grabbed me by the upper arm. "Why are you just sitting there, Leo?"

I pulled my arm away, breaking his grip. "We need you get out of here. You, me, and as many people as possible. We don't have a chance against them."

"Never took you as the sort of person who would lose it under a little pressure." He made no effort to hide his sneer. "In the two decades I've been here, they've rang the bells at least four times. It's always some demon scout that somehow wandered into the perimeter. One of the Echoes will handle it a few minutes and you'll be napping again in no time. Stand up."

He made another grab for me.

I caught him by the wrist and squeezed harder than I intended. "I'll show you, then."

But even when I retrieved the papers from the bottom of my storage chest, he only skimmed through the first paragraph before throwing the bundle off to the side. Loose parchment fluttered in every direction. A few people watched as I hurried about, collecting the lost papers.

"What's the fuss?" A familiar voice. Lieutenant Haron had joined the spectators.

"Leo here is trying to convince me to desert with him." Pan spat a glob of phlegm that landed between my feet. "Scared he might see a demon face-to-face for the first time."

Squeezing my eyes shut, I followed the instructions from the first visualization exercise in the papers. My time magic appeared in my mind's eye as a silver orb. Though I was uncertain how to actually use the power, the papers had assured me that the power would be responsive to my will.

Take me back as far as possible.

The world around me faded, swirled. The disorientation disappeared within a moment.

Back on my cot.

This time, I pretended to join the others, my coinpurse and papers hidden inside my flur cloak. And as soon as they stopped paying attention, I stole a horse and fled as far as I could in the opposite direction, abandoning them to their fate.

* * *

Months passed.

Word spread throughout the Civilized Lands that the Frontier had been compromised at several points. The constant snow had long since taken its toll on the commonfolk, though the Great Cities maintained some order. Now, even the rich and powerful had something to fear. Slowly, inexorably, fringe villages and even large towns along the outskirts of the Civilized Lands went silent, lost in the encroaching swarm.

I settled down in a small city near Velassa called Journey. Once, I visited my family manor to visit my mother. The less said about that interaction, the better. Her initial surprise and loving embrace had acted as a balm for my heart. I stayed there for a few hours, attempting to explain what had happened as best as possible without revealing my time magic. We drank coffee, but her hands shook so much that she ended up dropping her mug. What I initially took as overwhelming excitement at my return ended up being something else altogether. I realized this when the Magisters arrived.

A new nightmare was added to the medley: my mother pointing at me, accusing me of being a demon that had taken over her son's body and devouring his memories. There had been no survivors from my post on the Frontier; the entire area had been subsumed into demon territory.

I assured her nothing of the sort had happened. I had deserted my post and managed to escape. Even revealing my magic turned out to be a mistake. Only Archons were able to manifest an ability on their own, and no mortal could wield anything like time magic.

The Magisters attempted to consume me with their flames, but I fled back in time at the first brush of fire scorching my skin. Only able to return back in time fifteen minutes, I abruptly departed my family manor before the Magisters arrived, ignoring my mother's false pleading.

I vowed to never return.

* * *

Back home in Journey, I spread one of the papers on the desk in front of me. This one detailed a technique known as the memory palace. While my future self had cautioned not to become too reliant on any of these exercises, this one seemed harmless enough. My own contemplations on time had gone nowhere, and though I had begun to learn the limitations of my power, I had no idea how I could exceed them.

The memory palace was purported to create a link to the Mental Realm. The precise sketchings along the parchment depicted segments of my family manor. For a while I simply sat there, staring at the place that I had once called home. Then I took a deep breath and focused.

The visual technique came easier than I expected, even knowing that I had created it for myself. I stood in the entry room, blinking at the familiar rugs and paintings. My feet carried me through the familiar space as my mind reconstructed every nook and cranny. For some time I simply wandered, remembering a simple childhood spent within these safe walls.

My feet carried me to the door of my father's office. Beyond was the feeling of something...different. Something external from this within my own consciousness. A connection to the overall Mental Realm beyond my own mind, perhaps? What would happen if I stepped through?

My hand lingered above the doorknob for a moment. Deep breath. When my fingers brushed lightly against the brass, the door swung open of its own accord.

The realm beyond was nothing like I expected. Nothing that could exist in the real world. Space was folded in on itself, as if looking through a prism, thousands of disparate images fused and twisted into an incomprehensible dimension. Heart racing in my chest, I attempted to shove the door closed, but the wood refused to budge.

From beyond came a voice. "Leones Ansteri. Enter, child of time."

The distorted mess of images smoothed into one cohesive background. The view outside of my family manor, a boulevard of lemon trees where I had played as a child and, as a teenager, napped while pretending to listen to Everett's lectures.

"What are you?" I said.

For a moment the voice said nothing. Disturbed, I considered dropping the entire mental construct and abandoning exercise forever.

Then, it spoke again:

"I am Morningstar, the One Who Rules. One of the Goetia, though I have been forsaken as a traitor to my people, and banished from the Increate's light for all eternity. I have many other titles, though for our purposes, I am best known as the Progenitor of Mankind. Together, we shall find a way to save your people."