The afternoon sun streamed through the dormitory windows as I made my way back to my room. Classes were done for the day—a mercy, considering I'd sat through lectures I'd heard 73 times before.
I was halfway down the corridor when I noticed something wrong.
The door next to mine was open. Moving boxes cluttered the hallway. And inside, directing two very confused porters, was Sarah.
"No, no, the wardrobe goes against the far wall. And be careful with that trunk—it contains irreplaceable royal—" She spotted me. "Marcus! Perfect timing. What do you think? Should the desk face the window or the door?"
I stared. "What are you doing?"
"Moving in, obviously. This room was vacant, so I claimed it."
"Sarah. This is the boys' dormitory."
"Is it? I hadn't noticed." She was absolutely lying. "Well, too late now. My things are already here."
"The academy has rules—"
"And I'm a princess. Rules are more like... suggestions." She waved dismissively at the porters. "That'll be all, thank you. Yes, yes, the Crown will compensate you generously."
The porters fled before they could be caught in whatever chaos was unfolding.
I leaned against the doorframe. "Your father is going to lose his mind."
"My father is three hundred miles away and blissfully unaware. What he doesn't know won't give him a stress-induced heart attack." She surveyed her new room with satisfaction. "Besides, I have perfectly legitimate reasons for being here."
"Which are?"
I actually came here yesterday...
"One: I can't train with you at dawn if I'm on the other side of campus. Two: Your room is right next door, which means if demons or assassins attack, I can help. Three—" she turned to face me, her green eyes suddenly serious, "—you had nightmares last night. Bad ones. And I want to be close enough to help if it happens again."
Something in my chest tightened. "Sarah—"
"Don't. Don't push me away with logic or statistics about how I'll probably die. I'm here. I'm staying. Deal with it."
I should have argued. Should have listed all the reasons this was a terrible idea. Should have reminded her that in 42 timelines, getting close to me got her killed.
Instead, I said: "The desk should face the door. Window light is nice, but you need to see threats coming."
She smiled, bright and victorious. "See? You're already helping."
"I'm enabling your terrible decisions. There's a difference."
"Barely."
I helped her arrange furniture—partially because she asked, partially because watching a princess try to move a wardrobe by herself was entertaining in a mildly concerning way.
"So," she said, grunting as we maneuvered the desk into position, "how many loops did we share a dormitory?"
"None. This is new."
"Really? In twelve loops we were together and we never lived near each other?"
"In three loops, you were already married off to some duke before we even met. In four, I was too busy fighting demons to attend the academy. In the others..." I shrugged. "Circumstances were different."
"What about the loop where we had a kid?"
The question hit harder than expected. "Loop 96. We had separate apartments until after graduation. Then we got married, moved to a house in the Upper District. You were six months pregnant when I died."You were pregnant with our second daughter. "
She was quiet for a moment. "What was I like? In that loop?"
"Strong. Brave. Terrifying when angry. You'd become one of the kingdom's best sword masters. Led the royal guard. Killed more demons than most active military units." I smiled at the memory. "You were incredible."
"And we were happy?"
"We were happy."
"Then why do you look so sad when you talk about it?"
"Because I died. Because I left you alone with our daughter. Because no matter how good things got, it always ended." I met her eyes. "Happiness doesn't last, Sarah. Not for me. That's the curse."
"Then maybe," she said softly, "the curse is that you keep trying to face everything alone. Maybe this time, you let people help. Let people stay."
"People who stay near me die."
"Or maybe they live. You don't know. Not in this loop."
Before I could respond, Luna appeared in the doorway.
Not walked in. Appeared. Like she'd been edited into reality.
"Touching," she said. "But we have a problem."
"What kind of problem?" I asked.
"The kind where my sister is currently having a panic attack in the library because she did research on you and found some very concerning historical records."
"The Loop 96 memorial?"
"Among other things. She's convinced you're either a ghost, a demon, or having a psychotic break. I need you to come talk to her before she reports you to the disciplinary committee."
I sighed. "Great. Nothing like explaining temporal mechanics to a skeptic."
"I'll come too," Sarah said immediately.
"This might get complicated—"
"Which is exactly why you need backup. Let's go."
---
We found Celeste in the library's restricted section—apparently, everyone was breaking into the restricted section today—surrounded by open books and looking like she hadn't slept in a week.
"You," she said when she saw me, pointing with a shaking hand. "You're not possible. You can't be possible."
"I get that a lot."
"The memorial hall has records of a Marcus Vale who died nineteen years ago fighting the demon lord. Same name. Same face, according to the preserved portrait. Same—" she consulted her notes, "—grey eyes, dark hair, approximately six feet tall when fully grown."
"That's me. From Loop 96."
"That's INSANE!" She stood up so fast her chair fell over. "Time travel doesn't work that way! You can't leave echoes in the past from future loops! That's not how causality functions!"
"Apparently, when you die 127 times, causality gets creative."
She looked at Luna. "You. You're my sister. You're supposed to be dead. I watched you die five years ago. Car accident. Drunk driver. You died in my arms."
The room went very quiet.
Luna's face—usually so controlled, so mysterious—cracked just slightly. "I know."
"Then HOW—"
"Because I refused to accept it." Luna sat down, and for the first time since I'd met her, she looked tired. "When I died, I was given a choice. The universe—or whatever entity manages these things—offered me a deal. I could move on to whatever comes next, or I could become an anomaly. Exist partially outside causality. Give up linear time, give up a fixed existence, but stay close enough to watch over you."
Celeste's eyes filled with tears. "You gave up death for me?"
"You're my sister. What else was I going to do?"
"But you can't touch me. Can't hug me. Can't exist properly in the same timeline."
"No," Luna admitted. "But I can watch you. Guide you. Send people like Marcus to protect you when I can't."
Celeste turned to me, anger mixing with desperation. "Is this real? Any of this? Or am I having some kind of breakdown?"
"It's real," I said. "And I know how insane it sounds. Believe me, I've spent 127 loops trying to convince people. Most think I'm crazy."
"You probably are crazy."
"Definitely am. But that doesn't make it less true."
She looked between the three of us—me with my 127 deaths, Sarah with her determined princess act, Luna with her impossible existence.
"This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"Welcome to my life," I said. "It gets worse."
"How could it possibly get worse?"
"Well, for starters, that demon attack I mentioned? The one in six months? The demon is a third-circle entity named Azrak'thul. It feeds on fear and has seventeen documented kills. In 73 timelines, it killed you by—"
"Stop." She held up a hand. "I don't need the graphic details."
"You asked how it could get worse."
"I'm regretting that question."
Sarah put a gentle hand on Celeste's shoulder. "I know this is overwhelming. Trust me, I spent last night in his room making sure he didn't have nightmares about all the times I've died in his arms. It's a lot."
Celeste blinked. "You spent the night in his room?"
"Platonically. Mostly. There was crying involved. It was very emotional and not at all what you're thinking."
"I wasn't thinking anything."
"You were definitely thinking something."
"I really wasn't—"
"Ladies," I interrupted. "Can we focus? Celeste, I know this is insane. But in six months, demons are going to attack. They're going to target you specifically because your mana signature is visible from three counties away. Now, you can spend the next six months in denial, or you can let me teach you how to survive."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then: "What's your actual rank? Power level. Don't lie."
"SS-rank. Maybe higher. Hard to quantify when you've accumulated power across 127 lifetimes."
"That's..." She did some mental calculations. "That's continental-threat level. You could destroy cities."
"I have destroyed cities. Loop 89. Burned Valenhall to the ground in a fit of rage. Killed millions. It's not something I'm proud of."
"You—what—millions?"
"I was in a bad place. The loop ended quickly after that."
"You KILLED MILLIONS OF PEOPLE and you're just casually mentioning it?!"
"I'm trying to be honest. You wanted to know the truth."
"I wanted to know if you were trustworthy, not if you were a MASS MURDERER!"
"Former mass murderer. I haven't destroyed any cities in at least forty loops."
"THAT DOESN'T MAKE IT BETTER!"
Sarah stepped between us. "Okay, everyone take a breath. Marcus has severe trauma and questionable coping mechanisms. Celeste just found out her dead sister is a temporal anomaly. Let's all calm down before someone starts throwing fireballs."
"I'm not going to throw fireballs," Celeste snapped.
"I wasn't talking about you."
We all looked at me.
"What? I'm very calm."
"Your hands are literally crackling with mana," Luna observed.
I looked down. She was right. Purple-black lightning danced across my fingertips.
"Huh. Stress response. My bad." I pulled the power back in, resealing it. "See? Calm."
Celeste slumped back into her chair. "This is insane. All of it. But..." She looked at her sister. "Luna. Is he really trying to help me?"
"Yes," Luna said without hesitation. "Marcus is many things—traumatized, emotionally damaged, occasionally homicidal—but when he commits to protecting someone, he doesn't break that promise."
"Occasionally homicidal?" I protested.
"You literally just admitted to killing millions."
"That was one time!"
"One loop," she corrected.
"Same thing."
"It's really not."
Celeste rubbed her temples. "Fine. Fine. I'll train with you. But if you turn out to be some kind of demon in disguise or this is an elaborate murder plot—"
"It's not."
"—I'm setting you on fire."
"That's fair."
"And Luna." Celeste looked at her sister, tears finally spilling over. "I missed you. So much."
"I know." Luna's voice was soft. "I'm sorry I can't hug you. Sorry I can't exist properly. But I'm here. I've always been here."
"That's enough." Celeste wiped her eyes roughly. "Okay. So. Training. Dawn. Old training grounds. What should I bring?"
"Comfortable clothes, water, and low expectations. The first session is mostly going to be me breaking down your terrible fundamentals and rebuilding them from scratch."
"My fundamentals are not terrible—"
"Your mana control leaks like a broken faucet. Your fundamentals are objectively terrible."
"I don't like you."
"Most people don't. It's part of my charm." I stood, heading for the door. "Dawn. Don't be late. Sarah is never late and it makes the rest of us look bad."
"I'm punctual!" Sarah protested. "That's a virtue!"
"It's annoying. You make me feel guilty for sleeping in."
"You don't sleep in. You barely sleep at all."
"Details."
We left Celeste in the library, still surrounded by books and probably questioning all her life choices.
As we walked back through the darkening campus, Sarah asked: "Do you think she'll actually show up?"
"She'll show up. She's stubborn and curious. Bad combination."
"Says the stubbornly curious person."
"I prefer 'persistently thorough.'"
"You prefer to avoid therapy by throwing yourself into training other people."
"That's just efficient multitasking."
Luna, who'd been quiet, spoke up: "Thank you. For being honest with her. About everything. Even the... uncomfortable parts."
"The mass murder?"
"Among other things."
"I figured honesty was better than lying. She would have found out eventually."
"Still. It means something." Luna paused. "Can I ask you something personal?"
"You're going to anyway."
"In all those loops, in all those timelines... did you ever find peace? Even for a moment?"
I thought about Elara, cooking burnt vegetables in our tiny apartment. About Aria, laughing at my terrible jokes even as the world burned. About Loop 96, holding Sarah's hand as we planned our future.
"Sometimes," I admitted. "Brief moments. But they never lasted."
"Maybe that's the point," Luna said softly. "Maybe peace isn't something you find and keep. Maybe it's something you have to choose, again and again, in small moments."
"That sounds exhausting."
"Living is exhausting. Dying is easy."
"Speaking from experience?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
We reached the dormitories. Sarah's room was next to mine now—a fact that still seemed surreal.
"Same time tomorrow?" she asked. "Training?"
"5 AM. Bring coffee."
"I'm not your servant."
"No, but you make excellent coffee and I'm shameless enough to exploit that."
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Fine. But you're helping me with combat drills."
"I'm already training you."
"Extra drills. I want to be strong enough that in this loop, I don't die. I don't become another statistic in your collection of traumas."
The determination in her voice made something ache in my chest.
"Deal," I said.
She went into her room. Luna faded into shadows, off to do whatever anomalies did with their time.
I stood in the hallway alone, thinking about peace and choices and whether someone like me—someone who'd died 127 times—deserved either.
"You're overthinking again," Selene murmured.
"I'm processing."
"You're catastrophizing."
"Can't it be both?"
"Technically, yes. But it's not healthy."
"I'm carrying three fragments of my soul and I've committed genocide. I think we're past 'healthy.'"
"Fair point," Mordain conceded.
I entered my room, closing the door. Tomorrow, training. Tomorrow, trying to keep people alive. Tomorrow, fighting against a fate that had killed me 127 times.
But tonight?
Tonight, I sat by my window and watched the stars, and tried to remember what peace felt like.
Even if just for a moment.