Chapter 12

Julian stomped into his room, closing the door behind him with way more force than necessary. The wood rattled in its frame, a sharp crack that punctuated his frustration. He had spent the entire day at the library, scouring the restricted sections he could access and begging for crumbs of information from the junior librarians, yet he had nothing to show for it. No new leads on soul bonds, no hidden manuscripts explaining how a third-year student could suddenly find himself spiritually tethered to a disaster like Ethan Cooper. The implications of the bond were a cold weight in his gut. Ethan had more mana. Ethan had more raw confidence, misplaced as it was. Most importantly, Ethan had spent far more time in the loop. In every historical text Julian had managed to skim, soul bonds between unequal parties ended the same way: the stronger vessel dominated the weaker one. If this connection solidified, Ethan wouldn't just be Julian's partner; he would be his master. Julian would become a passenger in his own mind, a secondary consciousness tethered to a boy who barely understood the mechanics of his own magic. Seeking help was out of the question. If he went to the professors and explained the situation, he'd have to explain the loop. They'd quarantine him, study him, or worse—strip away the progress he'd made. He couldn't risk losing the marginal gains he'd clawed out of these restarts. The soul bond was almost certainly the reason he was looping with Ethan, a metaphysical anchor dragging them both back through time, and Julian was the one stuck holding the rope. He threw himself onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Maybe he was overreacting. He didn't feel different. There were no sudden urges to eat Ethan's favorite foods or mimic his exuberant, pacing habits. His personality was still his own—sarcastic, tired, and deeply annoyed. If the bond were truly as invasive as the legends suggested, wouldn't he feel the encroachment of Ethan's loud, chaotic psyche by now? Perhaps the bond was simply a conduit for the temporal reset, nothing more. A sharp, rhythmic knocking at his door shattered the silence. "Julian! Open up! I know you're in there brooding," Teagan's voice carried through the wood, bright and insistent. Julian groaned, pushing himself up. He opened the door to find Teagan leaning against the frame, a mischievous glint in her eye. She was currently working as a class assistant to Ragnar, but it was clear her ambitions were elsewhere. "I need a body," she said, bypassing a greeting entirely. "A fourth body, specifically. I've got a job, but the requirements are strict. We're one short of a full party." Julian leaned against the doorpost, crossing his arms. "Why does this job require four people, Teagan? That usually means there's something heavy to carry or something very dangerous to kill." Teagan's expression shifted, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face before she masked it with a defensive shrug. "It's the Underground Complex. There are spiders. Giant ones. An old man lost something valuable down there while he was running for his life, and he's paying well for its return. But the guild regulations say four for a sewer sweep in that sector." "Spiders," Julian repeated. The giant spiders in the tunnels were notorious for their size and their tendency to drop from the ceiling in the dark. "And you're asking me because...?" "Because you're reliable, you're a third-year, and I need an established explorer to see me actually leading a successful contract if I'm ever going to get an apprenticeship," she said, her voice softening into a cajoling tone. "Please, Julian. It's a simple retrieval. In and out." Julian looked back at his empty room, then at the stack of useless library notes on his desk. He needed a distraction. The soul bond was a problem he couldn't solve by staring at a wall, and his mana reserves were stagnant. A trip into the tunnels, dangerous as it was, felt better than waiting for his mind to be swallowed by a spiritual link. "Fine," Julian said. "I'll go." Teagan's face lit up. Before he could react, she leaned in and pressed a quick, fleeting kiss to his cheek. "You're the best, Julian! Meet us at the park bridge tomorrow morning!" She vanished down the hall before he could find his voice. Julian stood frozen, his hand rising to touch his cheek. He felt a dull, heat-flush creep up his neck. He'd had a crush on Teagan for a year, a quiet, unacknowledged thing that he'd tried to bury under the weight of his studies. That kiss, brief as it was, sent his thoughts spiraling. He retreated into his room and immediately reached for a sleeping potion. He couldn't deal with the soul bond and Teagan in the same hour. He uncorked the vial, swallowed the bitter liquid, and collapsed onto his bed, letting the magical slumber pull him under before he could overthink anything else. The next morning, he woke up feeling more level-headed. The panic of the previous evening had subsided into a cold, analytical resolve. He needed more information on bonds, but he needed it from someone who wouldn't ask questions about ancient soul magic. In the classroom before lectures began, Julian spotted Caleb. The boy was leaning back in his chair, looking smug while his fire drake familiar perched on his shoulder, its scales shimmering with a dull orange heat. Julian approached, feigning a casual interest. "Nice familiar, Caleb. Always wondered—how does the bond actually work? Is it constantly 'on'?" Caleb looked up, pleased to have an audience. "It's strange, honestly. It's not like we're talking in each other's heads, but I know when he's hungry or when he's annoyed. It's like a background hum." "Do you feel it all the time? Like a physical sensation?" Julian asked, leaning against the desk to hide the slight tremor in his hands. Caleb chuckled, a matter-of-fact sound. "Nah, most people don't feel much of anything. My tutor says only a minority of mages can actually sense the link as a distinct feeling. Most just get the 'intuition' part of it." Julian suppressed a wave of disappointment. If the sensation was rare, his own hyper-awareness of the link might be a sign of how deep the soul bond with Ethan actually was. "How long did it take to set up?" Julian pressed. "The ritual, I mean." "The Rite? It took at least ten minutes of chanting and mana-syncing," Caleb explained. "It's a deliberate process. Even the most oblivious people would feel something after a few weeks of the bond settling in. It's not something you just wake up with." Julian nodded, thanking him and moving to his seat. Ten minutes. He and Ethan hadn't performed any ten-minute rituals. This meant their link was either an accidental byproduct of the loop, a half-formed mistake, or a different type of magic entirely. If it was weak or incomplete, he had a chance. He just had to avoid Ethan. If he stayed away, maybe the bond would fail to solidify, like a graft that didn't take. He needed a learning plan—a way to master Scrying and research so he could find a way out of the loop and break this connection before it was too late. Later that day, Julian set out for the meeting place Teagan had chosen. It was an annoyingly distant park on the far side of Veridia, requiring a long trek across the city. As he walked, he passed over a familiar stone bridge. It was the same spot where, in a previous life or perhaps just a different day of this one, he had seen a girl crying. Today, there was no girl. Instead, a small, bedraggled cat sat on the stone railing. As Julian passed, he felt a sudden, sharp pang in his chest—an intense wave of sadness and loss that didn't belong to him. It radiated from the animal, a heavy, suffocating grief that made him stumble. He hurried past, the sensation fading as he put distance between himself and the bridge. It unnerved him; he hadn't known he was sensitive enough to pick up an animal's emotions. He finally reached the meeting spot and found Teagan waiting with two hulking figures. "Finally!" Teagan called out. "Julian, meet my minions: Brendan and Dustin." Brendan, a gruff and muscular boy with a heavy leather chestpiece, stepped forward. "We're not minions, Teagan. I'm Brendan. This is Dustin. Thanks for coming, Julian. We needed the extra mana." Dustin didn't look up; he was hunched over a portable chess set, his brow furrowed in concentration. He gave a flat grunt in Julian's direction. "Julian Hayes," Julian said shortly, offering nothing more. "Dustin wants to finish his game," Brendan said with a sigh. "Give him five minutes, or he'll be distracted the whole time we're in the tunnels." They waited. Julian watched the city bustle around the park, thinking about the world beneath it. The Underground Complex was a labyrinthian nightmare that served as Veridia's sewer system, but its boundaries were porous. Ancient tunnels intersected with modern ones, and monsters—oozes and spiders—frequently made their way into the dark corners of the city. An old man, the client, hobbled toward them. He looked Julian up and down with an incredulous scowl. "This is the fourth? He looks like he's barely out of his first year. You sure he knows combat magic? I lost my watch to two of those eight-legged devils, and I don't want to lose my life because some kid fumbles a bolt." Julian didn't blink. "I'm a third-year. I know my way around an Arcane Bolt and an Aegis. If you're worried about your watch, let's get moving." "He's fine," Teagan snapped, her patience wearing thin. "We can handle two spiders, even if they're the big ones." "There's more than two," the old man grunted, his eyes darting toward the sewer entrance. "They're stealthy. They come out of the shadows before you even smell 'em." "What's so important about this watch anyway?" Teagan asked, trying to sound reasonable. "If it's just sentimental, is it worth the gold you're paying us?" The old man's face hardened. "It's sentimental. That's all you need to know. Just get it back." Teagan rolled her eyes and signaled for the group to follow. She led them toward a heavy iron grate—the entrance to the Underground Complex. She produced a permit, showing it to the bored-looking guard, and they descended into the damp, cool dark. They moved in a tight formation, illuminated by four floating lanterns that bobbed around them. For two hours, they trudged through ankle-deep water and narrow stone walkways. Teagan and Julian both cast Scrying spells repeatedly, trying to catch the magical signature of the watch or the heat signatures of the spiders, but the spells came back empty. The tunnels were a graveyard of silence and dripping water. Suddenly, a wave of heavy, magical lethargy hit the group. Julian felt his knees buckle. It was a sleep spell, powerful and wide-reaching. Beside him, Brendan and Dustin slumped against the walls, their lanterns flickering. Teagan gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as she slid to the floor. Julian bit his lip until he tasted blood, the pain anchoring him. He resisted the pull of the spell, his mind screaming against the forced slumber. Then, the assault changed. It wasn't just sleep anymore; it was an explosion of imagery. Alien memories flooded his vision—vast, intricate webs glowing with dew, orbs of pulsating light, and the terrifyingly sharp perspective of multiple eyes. A voice, or the psychic equivalent of one, echoed in the cavern of his skull. *Are you... don't understand me, do you?* The images flickered faster—a kaleidoscope of silk and hunger. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the pressure vanished. Julian slumped against the wall, his head throbbing with a violent, rhythmic ache. He was alone in the dark, surrounded by his unconscious teammates. He checked their pulses; they were deep in a magical sleep, but alive. He couldn't leave them there, not with the spiders lurking. Using the last of his strength and a series of levitation charms, he began the grueling process of transporting them back toward the entrance. When Julian finally opened his eyes, he wasn't in the tunnels. He was staring at a sterile white ceiling. A hospital. For a moment, he was gripped by the familiar dread of a reset—expecting to see Chloe jumping on his bed in Aethel—but the smell of antiseptic and the dull ache in his head told him he was still in Veridia. He hadn't died. The door creaked open, and Stella Vance walked in. She looked professional, her expression a mix of concern and administrative duty. "Are you up to talking, Julian?" she asked softly. "Professor Vance?" Julian croaked. "Why are you here?" "The Northwood College of Magic is legally obligated to represent its students when they are involved in incidents within the city's restricted zones," she explained, pulling up a chair. "How do you feel?" "Fine. Just a headache," Julian said, trying to sit up. "I'm ready to go home after I answer whatever questions the police have." "I'm not the police, Julian," Stella said reassuringly. "But I do need to know what happened. Your friends are fine—they're in the next ward over, still a bit groggy. The doctors are impressed you managed to resist a sleep spell of that magnitude and get everyone out." Julian looked away. He remembered the images of the webs. "The spell hit us out of nowhere. I resisted it, but then my head was... bombarded. Images, mostly. I think I just had an adverse reaction to the magic. Once it stopped, I dragged them out." He deliberately omitted the part about the sentient voice and the spider-memories. If he mentioned sentient, psychic spiders, he'd be tied up in investigations for months. Stella nodded, though her eyes remained thoughtful. "It's possible the tunnels have pockets of stagnant mana that can cause hallucinations when triggered by certain spells. Or perhaps it was a rogue ooze with psychic capabilities. Regardless, you are forbidden from returning to the tunnels until further notice. The city is closing that sector for a full sweep." Julian didn't argue. He had no desire to go back. A few days later, Julian was in Teagan's room. He was sitting on the floor, his eyes closed, while Teagan stood across from him with a bag of marbles. "This is so boring, Julian," Teagan complained, tossing a marble into the air and catching it. "I promised to make it up to you for the tunnel disaster, but I didn't think it would involve throwing rocks at you." "They're marbles, and I'm practicing mana-sensing," Julian said, cracking one eye open to glare at her. "Keep throwing. And don't aim for my forehead." "Maybe if I hit your forehead, your sensing would improve," she teased, weighing a marble in her hand. "Try it and I'll bolt your favorite boots to the floor," Julian threatened. She laughed and flicked the marble. Julian reached out with his senses, trying to feel the displacement of mana as the object moved through the air, but he was too slow. The marble clattered against his shoulder. "I need you to be precise," Julian said, frustrated. "And I need you to charge them with a tiny bit of mana before you throw. I'm trying to learn how to track active spells in motion." Teagan sighed, her playful demeanor fading into something more contemplative. "I know you're serious about this, but I feel like I'm just a target-practice machine. If you want to learn how to handle magic in a real situation, let me teach you how to actually fight." Julian looked up. "Fight? Like, combat casting?" "Exactly," Teagan said, a confident grin spreading across her face. "Show me what you've got. What are your go-to spells?" "Arcane Bolt and Aegis," Julian said. "Simple and effective." "Show me the bolt. Aim for that practice dummy in the corner." Julian stood, centered himself, and flicked his wrist. A shining bolt of force hissed through the air, curving slightly to strike the dummy's chest with a sharp *thwack*. It was a piercer, modified with a basic homing function. Teagan nodded, unimpressed. "Not bad. But watch." In a blur of motion, she snapped her fingers three times. Three separate Arcane Bolts manifested instantly, weaving through the air in complex patterns before slamming into the dummy simultaneously. Julian frowned. "That's a lot of flash, Teagan. But I only have enough mana to cast eleven Arcane Bolts total. If I start firing off triples like that, I'll be empty in less than a minute." Teagan's jaw dropped. She stared at him, her hand still raised. "Wait... eleven? Total? Like, in a whole day?" "In a single encounter, yes," Julian said, ignoring her shock. "Eleven!" she shrieked. "Julian, that's... that's nothing! You're a third-year! How do you even pass your practicals?" "I'm efficient," he snapped. "Efficient isn't the word. You're a glass squirt-gun," she said, shaking her head. "Okay, new plan. If you have that little mana, we focus on quality over quantity. Every shot has to be a kill shot. Show me your Aegis." Julian cast the spell, a shimmering plane of force appearing in front of him. Teagan picked up a Rune Rod from her desk—a training tool that fired harmless coloring bolts with a bit of physical kick. She fired a shot, and the bolt splashed against the Aegis, leaving a blue stain but failing to budge the shield. "Good stability," she admitted. "But we need to work on your reaction time. I'll keep throwing the marbles for an hour every session, but only if you spend the second hour sparring with me." "Deal," Julian said. As he left Teagan's room later that afternoon, his mind was already turning toward the next steps. He couldn't stay in this loop forever. He needed to understand the invasion, the soul bond, and the loop itself. That meant he needed better research skills and access to the Northwood College of Magic's secure library sections. He'd apply for a job in the library. He'd impress Stella Vance with his dedication, and in the next restart, he'd choose Scrying as his primary focus from the start. He was building a map, piece by piece. He was climbing the stairs to his apartment, mentally cataloging the books he needed to find, when the world suddenly tilted. The familiar, sickening wrench of the temporal reset pulled at his navel. *No, not yet,* he thought, reaching for the railing. *It's only been a few days!* Everything went black. The next thing he knew, something heavy slammed into his stomach. He gasped, his eyes snapping open to see the bright morning light of his bedroom in Aethel. "Good morning, Julian!" Chloe Hayes cheered, bouncing on his midsection with relentless energy. "Wake up! It's a beautiful day!" Ethan was dead again. The loop had reset, and Julian was back at the beginning, the weight of his unfinished plans heavy in his chest. ════════════════════════════════════════