CH 17. Before the Ash Falls

Alice woke to the sound of wings — something soft, a bird, maybe, or a memory shaped like one.

She lay still. Sheets tangled at her waist, silk warm against skin. The air smelled like clean stone and faint spice. Her breath was shallow. Heart paused — not with fear, but expectation.

Something's wrong.

Thud.

Her eyes snapped open.

A yellow-headed bird with a black throat landed on the stone ledge. It tapped the glass. Once. Twice. Three precise beats, making the window creak open slightly while being aided by the wind.

It didn’t glance. It looked. Directly, like it was waiting for some—

THACK.
There was a crunching sound.
An eagle struck from above, claws slicing through the first in a flash. The two parts fell and a lot of that blood beaded on the sill, all while Alice watched, confused about what she should do.

"No." She stared, then suddenly sprang up.

She felt a sudden wave of déjà vu. A yellow-headed Picathartes in Ka'doro? Their native habitat was at the border of Tarungi and this was Ka’doro. She hadn’t seen one since—

That rooftop four years ago. The birds looked the same; a bird had swooped down and turned the yellow bird into two. It was an eagle, it......

She staggered back as thoughts suddenly assaulted her brain.

"What in the fucking name of Tharozh is going on!"

Her hand swept the room, fingers curling through the air as she reached into herself and spread her mana. There were no threats in the room — there was actually nothing in the room; it looked a little weird though, even her skin. She spread her mana all around herself, analysing, then looked up and walked toward the mirror.

Her freckles were like star maps, shoulder to shoulder. Her hair burned down her back in a tangle of sleep and sweat. She wrapped the sheet tighter.

Where the hell is Aiden?

The wardrobe was open. Inside hung a lavender dress — imperial pattern work, two decades out of date. Her breath caught.

An old book sat on the desk. Page 118 was open with the words "11 mana sides" in bold. Her throat tightened; this isn’t right.

She dressed fast. Old tee. Tattoos like thorns spiraling down her forearms. Dark jeans. Scuffed boots. Canvas bag slung over her chest. Headphones on — no music, just habit.

She stepped into the street.

The city looked... younger. Cleaner. Trees still stood. Flagstones not yet cracked. She hated how honest it all looked.

It was deceiving people from the fact of how rotten the Dominion was.

A boy sprinted past her, screaming to the rhythm of his bouncing satchel.

"The Concord Trial's selection week has opened up."

Her stomach dropped. Hadn’t that just happened four years ago?

She spun and found the nearest vendor.

“Date,” she demanded.

The man raised a brow. “You serious?”

"What _is_ the fucking date?" she snapped, her knuckles white as she clenched her fists.

"Woah, chill crazy." He held up a paper, his eyes lingering on her. "Why are the crazy ones always the fine ones?"

April 15, 2083.

The world froze. Her hands shakily pulled it from him and let the coins click. Her eyes locked on the front page.

BREAKING: The God of Three, Terion, finally spotted in Zol, Tarungi after going missing from Aureilla.

He must have just come back from killing Cerin. Her breath hitched. Probably on his way to Nareth but he wouldn't get there.

She staggered into an alley. If this wasn't some kind of new awakening then she had traveled back in time. Four whole years! She leaned against the wall and slid down. She unfolded the paper again and looked at it.

The same year the monsters from the south would begin to surface. The same year the Dominion would...

She stared at the letters until they blurred. “Aiden, I think you did it."

Her voice cracked, barely a sound.

She looked at her hand, then touched her chest. She didn't even have the wound. Her fingers still ten.

"I'm not dead."

Her breath came in sharp bursts — that means they should all be alive. Natasha. Kane. Ratz.

"We’re not dead."

Like dawn behind smoke, hope had cracked through.

She laughed and kept laughing. Everything was still good — why wouldn't she? There was time; the Dominion hadn't lost many imperial heroes yet, so they were a world power.

But then some questions started popping up from the fog of bliss.
She would have to find Aiden, but she didn't know where he was or if anyone else had regressed.

Was there anything Aiden had told me he was doing back at that time?

She stayed seated against the alley wall, searching for her memory, but every important detail seemed to have been blurred out. Now she thought about it: she couldn't even remember her last events before waking up today. Had future her been killed? She was holding the newspaper so tightly that her nails had poked some holes inside it.

Then—

A voice, low and slick, from deeper in the alley’s shadow:

“Hey.”

A pause.

The sound of someone licking his lips.

“How are you, Alice?” he asked, stepping into the light.

“I’ve been looking for you. You haven't forgotten what you owe me, right?”

She exhaled. Of course, the first person she saw was him.