The flash of light was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and Juniper found herself sitting in a familiarly uncomfortable chair, in the middle of an uncomfortably familiar lecture hall.

She gripped the sides of her desk, her muscles going tense and her knuckles white as she braced herself, her mind whirling at a million questions a minute.

Had she died? Were these the hallucinations of a dying mind? She knew that sometimes a dying person might see their life flash before their eyes, but somehow, this didn’t feel right. Of all things her addled mind might imagine, the middle of a–she looked around, trying to make sense of the scene, and her eyes locked on the sheaves of paper stacked in front of her–Thermodynamics exam did not seem like the kind of core memory one might experience before death.

Her heart was thundering in her chest, hard enough that she could feel her pulse in her ears. She let out a breath–these were good signs. The heart didn’t beat like that unless you were alive.

Relaxing slightly, Juniper unclenched her hands, letting go of the desk. She cradled her face in her palms and regretted it immediately. The rush of adrenaline had made her palms a sticky mess.

Blinking away the sudden wave of exhaustion, Juniper looked around the room. A few students had noticed her moment of panic, and were staring at her oddly. She spotted Evie, a few desks over, shooting her a concerned look.

What in the abyss? Juniper wondered. Didn’t they see the…

The…

As Juniper recalled the image of the sky breaking, she felt a wave of nausea overtake her.

Perhaps unluckily, the students hadn’t been the only ones to notice Juniper’s momentary distress. As she fought down the panic, she didn’t notice Professor Reid walking up to her desk. “Is something the matter, Miss Lorn?” he asked, quietly so as to not disturb the other students.

In any other situation, Juniper would have blanched at causing a scene in the middle of an exam–but right now, she found that she couldn’t care less. She closed her eyes for a second, trying to gather her wits. “I’m not feeling well. Could I be excused for a moment?”

Students weren’t generally supposed to leave the hall until they turned in their paper, but the professor must have been convinced by Juniper’s wavering voice, as he nodded and returned to the pulpit.

Juniper rose unsteadily. She half walked, half stumbled on her way out, the way to the bathroom a blur in her mind. She opened the tap, splashing ice cold water on her face.

Each time she tried to make sense of what had happened, she would recall the image of the world shattering, growing nauseous each time. Her skin crawled as she remembered, as if trying to hold in her mind the depiction of an impossible shape, except multiplied by a million. it was a pervasive sense of wrongness. Of an impossible thing that had come to pass.

Magic was the art of imposing your Will on the universe to turn the impossible into possible–it worked by altering the rules and manipulating parameters, but it was still constrained by some immutable laws. She knew, innately, that the revulsion she felt at her memories was because she had witnessed something that had broken those very laws. It was a fundamental wrong, one that a human mind could not accept.

Whenever she calmed down a bit, the memory would pop up uninvited–but each time the effect was slightly lessened. Juniper grit her teeth and willingly exposed herself to the image of the broken universe–if she couldn’t keep it away, perhaps she could desensitize herself to it.

Juniper wasn’t sure how long she spent in that bathroom–she knew she’d emptied her stomach at least twice, and she’d soaked through her shirt, but by the end, she could recall the memory without any outward manifestations.

It was still viscerally disturbing, but now she could look at it and think. And think she did.

She considered the facts. She had seen something that looked suspiciously like the end of the world, and the next thing she knew, she was in the middle of a Thermodynamics exam.

Juniper grew thoughtful. There were only two Thermos exam during the whole year–the midterms and the finals. She’d just taken the finals barely a month before, and the finals were supposed to be two months away.

A chill went up Juniper’s spine. The thought healer had assured Juniper that she wasn’t suffering from memory loss, but what if she’d been wrong? If she’d just spontaneously lost two months of memories…

It would explain why she’d been the only one to react so strongly to the world shattering. If it had been two months ago, someone could have fixed it in the meantime–

What in the abyss are you even saying? Juniper yelled at herself. That was the end. The END. There was no coming back from that.

Except, it could have been an elaborate illusion. Enough that she’d lose her mind.

She recalled the memory again. It wasn’t an illusion.

Juniper breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. She would figure it out, whatever had happened–but right now, she had a new priority. There was an exam going on, and she was sure as the abyss not going to let temporary insanity get in the way of a good grade.

She hadn’t checked the time when she’d left the hall, but there were still twenty minutes until the exam ended. She splashed some water on her face one last time and returned to the classroom.

The professor looked at her askance as she entered, and she gave him a small nod, mouthing quick thank you. Professor Reid had something of a reputation for strictness, and she was surprised he’d let her go so easily.

She returned to her seat, giving the stack of papers a more thorough look. She recognized the concepts, and the questions seemed familiar…

She turned to the first page, checking the corner where she had signed and dated the exam.

15th of Last Bloom.

Juniper froze. Amnesia she could accept, but this?

The memorial had been on the 11th of Sunfire, she knew that for sure–she’d all but seared the date in her mind. But this paper in front of her, in her own writing, was telling her that she was somehow one month into the past.

Is this a result of the universe shattering like that?

As far as inviolable laws went, this one was up there with the big ones. Time flowed in a single direction–from the past towards the future. It could not be reversed, it could not be rewinded.

And yet.

If one impossible thing happened, what was to say another one couldn’t? Especially if one was the effect caused by the other–unless the universe decided to throw away the entire concept of cause and effect, a scenario that Juniper abandoned completely on account of the mounting headache.

She looked around the room again, and grew convinced that the day was indeed the 15th of Last Bloom. Juniper wasn’t terribly observant at the best of times, but the scene was too familiar for it to be anything else.

She checked the exam with a more detailed eye, and indeed, the questions were the same–as were her answers, including the one she’d gotten wrong. Absentmindedly, she scratched out the wrong calculation–she had accidentally copied a sign wrong, which had sent her solution on the wrong path.

As she shuffled through the rest of the pages, a loose note flitted away, sailing languidly through the air.

It did not reach the ground, this time, nor did Juniper stomp on it. She was used to random notes appearing out of nowhere by now, and she’d replayed this exact scenario many times in her mind. The mysterious first note–once again.

She deftly snatched it out of the air before it was halfway down, bringing it before her. After the shock of seeing the world end, the harmless little note seemed like an old friend. Last time, she’d waited to open it until she was alone. Right now, she found that she didn’t care.

She held the exam papers with a hand as if reading through her answers, using them to shield her other hand from the professor’s view. Juniper unfolded the note.

Her eyes widened, for there was no single dot of ink on the note as she had expected.

Indeed, two words were written in pitch black ink.

Hello, Juniper.

***

Because she’d taken so long in the bathroom, Evie had already left the lecture hall by the time Juniper turned in her paper.

“June!” Evie exclaimed as Juniper closed the door to their room after her. “What in the abyss happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Juniper said, giving Evie a tight smile. “I think it must’ve been something I ate.”

That was usually an excuse that stopped people from pushing further. Nobody wanted to hear about your digestive problems.

It was, however, the wrong excuse to use on Evie. “We ate together this morning, though.” She frowned. “Damn, I hope I didn’t catch something too.”

Juniper shrugged nonchalantly. “Might want to stay close to a bathroom.”

Evie shuddered. “You’re better now, right?”

“Yeah, it passed.” The memory surfaced again, and Juniper barely suppressed a shiver. She was silent for a minute as she pushed off the books from her bed and sat down.

In the confines of her room, Juniper studied the note more closely. No one seemed to be any wiser to the possibility that time might have reverted itself. Maybe someone else remembered–she needed to poke around and find out.

As far as she could see, though, the note was the only thing that was different.

When she’d caught it the second time around, she was sure she’d find that mocking little dot. That she didn’t…

It suggested that whoever was sending these notes was somehow connected with this whole mess. There was no other explanation as to why the note would be different.

But connected how? Juniper needed to find this mysterious sender.

“Hey, Ev,” Juniper said after a few minutes.

“Yeah?” Evie looked up from her novel–the steamy one, Juniper remarked.

“Have you noticed anything strange recently?”

Evie lifted an eyebrow. “Other than you making a scene in Thermos? No, pretty sure I haven’t.”

“I’m serious,” Juniper said, sitting up and looking Evie in the eye. “You like to people-watch, don’t you? DId anyone catch your eye recently?”

Evie furrowed her brow. “Well, Esau and Byrne are hooking up now, but I don’t think you care about that.”

Juniper frowned–that wasn’t strange, just disturbing. She filed the tidbit away. “Right. But nothing, like, really out of the ordinary?”

“June, what’s this about?” Evie asked with a sigh as she rolled to rest on her elbows. “You never care about this stuff. Did something happen?”

Juniper was quiet for a moment as she considered her next words. She could deflect, and try to change the subject, or she could lie. Or… “What do you think about time travel?”

“That it’s a nice topic for a fiction book, but it’s ultimately impossible?” Evie ventured, plainly confused at the direction the conversation had taken.

Abyss, let’s just give it a go. What’s the worst that could happen? “What if I told you I come from the future?”

“I’d say you’re either having fun at my expense, or you’ve truly lost your mind,” Evie said. her face twisting into a deep frown.

Juniper took a deep breath. That didn’t bode well, but she was committed at this point. “Well, here’s how it is…”

Juniper gave Evie a summary of what had happened the previous month. Or the current month? The timeline was rather confusing. By the end, Evie’s expression had gone from frowning, to thoughtful, before finally settling on impassive.

“...And then I was back in Thermos,” Evie finished. “Oh, and that note I mentioned in the beginning? It changed.”

Evie went quiet as she digested the information–Juniper supposed she’d dumped a lot on her friend. A minute later, Evie was ready to pronounce her judgment.

“What you just said is clearly impossible,” Evie finally said. “But it’s also clear you believe it. You’re not the prankster type, and if it is a prank, then shame on you.”

“What if I prove it to you?,” Juniper pushed back. “The stuff I told you–if it happens again, you’ll know I’m right.”

But Evie didn’t want to hear it. She’d already made up her mind. “Look, Juniper,” she said softly, reaching over to her nightstand. Juniper closed her eyes, knowing what came next. She heard the piece of paper being ripped from her journal and the sound of furious scribbling. “There is nothing shameful about getting help–and I know someone really good.”

Evie was expounding on the benefits of thought healers, but Juniper tuned her out. In a way, it wasn’t surprising. It was much more likely that Juniper was going insane than the universe being broken. And Evie only wanted to help, even though her help felt more like a punch in the gut.

Evie stuck out her hand, holding the piece of paper with the thought healer’s address. Juniper closed her eyes, pushing the hand away.

Evie gave her a pained look. “I can’t help you if you don’t want to help yourself.”

“It’s fine,” Juniper said. “Just… forget I said anything.” She left the room, wanting to be anywhere but near Evie.

Juniper realized that she had probably ruined their friendship–perhaps forever. Evie wouldn’t trust her again, not if she thought Juniper insane. Though, considering how quickly Evie seemed to jump to that conclusion–and for the second time!–perhaps that was just the young woman’s nature.

As she thought of lost friendships, she froze as a realization struck her. Juniper wasn’t sure when Hester and Adar had died–would die–but she didn’t think the matron’s letter had been sent long after their deaths. Probably no more than a week. There was a real possibility the twins were still alive, and a shiver went up Juniper’s back as she realized she could warn them.

The biggest obstacle was that she didn’t know where to find them.

In the past, the letter they’d exchanged had been through the Ravens, but she couldn’t guarantee a letter would arrive on time. She didn’t even know how much time she had–for all she knew, their last mission may as well be scheduled for the next day.

She doubted it was so soon, but in any case, time was of the essence. Letters were out. She’d need to go to one of the Ravens’ havens and search there.

Juniper scrunched her nose in distaste. So much for limiting contact with the Ravens. But her friends didn’t know they were going into a death trap, and she was the only one who could save them.

Checking her pocket watch, Juniper decided to leave the plan for tomorrow. It was four in the evening, and she suspected catching the twins’ scent would take at least a few hours.

***

Juniper had spent the rest of the day and most of the morning subtly probing her classmates, to no success. None remembered anything out of the ordinary–unless one counted Juniper’s sudden sociableness as unordinary.

Which many did, much to Juniper’s chagrin. She was vaguely offended–she wasn’t a recluse, she was just… focused.

To the exclusion of a social life, but that was just one of the sacrifices one had to make to be successful.

At eight, she was already running through the gates of the Academy, dressed in her most inconspicuous set of street clothes. The guards regarded her oddly as she passed, but didn’t try to stop her. The two weeks dedicated for the midterms were designated as self-study time, so she wasn’t technically skipping classes.

Ebonfell was quieter than usual as she entered the city. Most people would have been at work, she supposed. When she veered left off the main street and into one of the smaller back alleys, she was completely alone.

She followed the back alleys to a small open area, not big enough to be called a plaza, but not small enough to be a simple street either. The mini-plaza was populated by a high number of stalls, most selling a variety of foods. The market had attracted a modest crowd–mostly of the poorer denizens of Ebonfell.

Juniper followed her nose to one of the farther corners of the market, where a middle-aged, mustachioed man operated an open-air butchery. She waited for him to finish serving an older woman.

“I’ll have a kilo of chicken briskets,” she said.

The man regarded her strangely for a moment. “That phrase hasn’t been used in a year,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

Juniper sighed. She hadn’t visited in a while, so she wasn’t up to date with the newest security measures. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me in anyway?”

“Sorry, lassie. It’s my ass on the line.”

Juniper scowled, then lifted her sleeve, revealing her wrist. With an effort of Will, the iridescent raven brand flashed for a moment, before melding back into the skin, as if it had never existed. “How about now?”

The man had gone a shade paler from her display. She didn’t blame him–the brand marked her as one of the House of Ravens’ practitioners. He wouldn’t know she was only a student. And, perhaps, it didn’t even matter. “Of course, miss. You can go right in,” he said, unlocking the door hidden by a cow carcass.

Juniper absently scratched at the brand as she entered the haven. Beyond the butchery front, a long tunnel extended into the building. The tunnel opened into what an unfamiliar soul might describe as a bar.

Probably because it also doubled as a bar–except one only frequented by Ebonfell’s criminal underworld. More deals had been made in the haven’s back rooms than in any fancy noble establishment.

The biggest area, the bar, was mostly empty. The chairs had been stacked on the tables, aside from a handful of tables where the early drinkers–or alternatively, very late drinkers–nursed their glasses. Despite the small number of patrons, the haven operated at all hours.

Behind the bar, a young woman, not far from Juniper’s age, was wiping some glasses with a cloth towel. She looked up as Juniper entered, gave her a quick glance, then returned to her work.

Juniper walked up to the bar, and for once she didn’t have to fake the confidence. She was a woman on a mission, and damn anyone who got in her way. “Hi,” she said, “I’m looking for some friends of mine. They should be regulars at… these kinds of places.”

The barkeep’s eyes snapped up to Juniper as she regarded her for a moment. “I know a lot of people. What are these friends of yours called?”

“Adar and Hester,” Juniper said, then added, “Ward.”

The barkeep’s brow narrowed. “And who’s asking?”

“An old friend of theirs.” When the barkeep didn’t react, Juniper sighed. “Name’s Juniper. Is that enough?”

The barkeep nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Mhm. Yeah, I know Addy and Hessy. They don’t come here much, though, not unless they have business in this part of town.” She paused for a second, thoughtful. “Try in the Factory District. That’s more their lane.”

Juniper blanched. “I don’t think I know the haven there.”

“It’s rather new–only opened last year. You know where Halogenworks is?”

Juniper nodded, writing down the barkeep’s instructions on the back of a napkin. The haven was apparently situated right under one of the biggest factories in Ebonfell, with the owners none the wiser of what was going on in their basement.

With the location in hand, Juniper left the haven, choosing a different exit than the one she’d come through. The Factory District was on the south side of Ebonfell, quite a ways away, so she boarded a tram to shorten the trip and made her way to the Factory District.