Chapter 15: Chapter 15

"For real?” Ananke asks, staring up at her master with barely contained excitement. The two of them stand in the Crux before a large wooden doorway she recognises all too well, its surface carved with intricate temporal symbols that seem to shift and rearrange themselves when observed from different angles.

Her master has just informed her that she's being granted permission to attend the regular meetings of the Twelve Hands, the gatherings where decisions about time itself are debated and voted upon. This chamber is where the truly significant matters are decided, where the fate of timelines hangs in the balance, and she's going to be participating as an equal member from now on.

The Humming Man nods with obvious satisfaction. "Of course. You are one of the Twelve, after all,” he replies, his hand settling warmly on her shoulder. "Despite the initial difficulties regarding your initiation into our organisation, I believe you've done more than enough to convince the others to reconsider their earlier judgements.” His tone carries genuine pride. "I'm almost hesitant to say this, but you've become something of a favourite around here, Ananke.” He ponders curiously for a while. “Although I admit, it is rather strange… I am not used to the others being so… open.”

"Second favourite for me,” Larry's voice announces as the colourful dark elf approaches from across the bridge, her theatrical makeup catching the crystal light. She drapes a long, lanky arm over the Humming Man's shoulder with casual affection. "Want to guess who claims the top spot?”

"Good afternoon, Larry,” he greets her politely. "How did all of that business in the southern territories resolve itself?”

Larry rolls her eyes with dramatic exasperation. "Terribly. Absolute disaster from start to finish.”

Another figure arrives at the doorway with measured steps. Richter's imposing form blocks the entrance momentarily as he surveys the small gathering. "Humboldt is quite correct in his assessment,” he says, directing his attention down toward Ananke. "I was wrong about you. You are developing above expectations.” The usually stubborn old man delivers this admission with surprising directness, his expression softer than she's ever witnessed. He moves to open the heavy door with deliberate ceremony. "I apologise for our first encounter and the judgement I passed without proper consideration.”

"You voted to have me 'removed' from existence,” Ananke says dryly, staring up at him without flinching. He's been a demanding instructor, and even though she's excelled under his rigorous training, he has never once shown her any leniency or special consideration.

"And I am apologising for that decision,” he replies with equal dryness, pulling the door open and gesturing for her to enter with one hand. "What more do you expect from me?”

"I'm… not really sure,” Ananke admits after a moment of consideration.

"Excellent. Then stop wasting time and come along. I haven't got all day to stand here,” Richter responds with his characteristic impatience. Ananke walks past him through the threshold with Larry and her master following close behind.

She steps into the circular chamber and looks around at the familiar surroundings with new eyes. This is where she first met the assembled chronomancers months and months ago, when they debated her very right to exist. Half a year has passed since that terrifying day when her entire future hung in the balance of their votes. Her life has transformed completely in that time, evolving from a desperate street beggar to an accomplished apprentice. She smiles, feeling oddly proud of how far she's travelled.

"Ananke, dear, so glad to have you joining us officially,” Chronomancer Waldlaub says cheerfully, the green-haired fairy flying past them toward her designated seat. "Dreadfully sorry about that whole Murkan business, by the way. He was rather an odd fellow, that one.”

"Where do I sit?” Ananke asks her master quietly, suddenly uncertain about the protocol for such formal gatherings.

"Ah, you belong right over here,” he replies, gesturing toward a specific spot in the circle where a new chair has appeared in place of the old one that is now conspicuously absent. It's a lovely piece of furniture, a plush armchair with flanged winged armrests that looks far more comfortable than the austere seats most of the others occupy. But there's something distinctly unusual about it.

"Ah, Master?” Ananke asks hesitantly.

"Yes, yes, I am quite aware,” he remarks quietly, both of them studying the peculiar chair with puzzled expressions.

It floats several inches off the ground, hovering in place seemingly of its own volition. The furniture defies gravity with the same casual disregard for natural law that characterises so much of Ananke's existence.

"There is, I'm rather concerned to say, something quite unusual about your manifestation here in many different ways, Ananke,” he muses, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "We've been discussing the phenomenon for days, ever since this strange thing simply materialised here in the circle without anyone summoning it.” With a resigned shrug, he looks down at her. "Shall I give you a boost up?”

"Please, if you don't mind,” she requests.

"Very well. Pardon me then,” he says, and with a surprisingly strong motion, lifts her up into the air so she can settle onto the floating seat. As her weight settles onto the cushion, the chair begins sinking gradually toward the floor, though it never quite touches the ground completely.

"You're quite strong, Master,” Ananke observes with genuine surprise, looking down at him from her elevated position.

"Yes, well, I do maintain my physical condition despite my age,” he remarks with casual dismissal, heading toward his own designated spot. Ananke lifts her eyes to find Larry watching them, the dark elf pointing at her own eyes and then meaningfully at Ananke in some kind of silent communication.

Ananke lifts her hands in surrender.

The remaining chronomancers arrive over the next few minutes, greeting each other with the comfortable familiarity of long association and offering Ananke welcoming nods and brief words of acknowledgement. When everyone has settled into their places, the formal meeting begins.

"Very well. We are all assembled,” the Humming Man announces, his voice carrying the authority of someone chairing an important gathering. "I trust everyone is comfortable. We have quite an extensive agenda to work through today.” He pauses, allowing his gaze to sweep the circle. "Of course, we are also officially welcoming our newest member into the fold.” He gestures toward Ananke with obvious pride.

Quiet, respectful applause fills the circular chamber, the sound echoing off the ancient stones. Ananke laughs with bashful delight, waving to the other chronomancers who have become familiar faces over these transformative months.

She beams with genuine happiness, feeling truly accepted as one of them. The sensation of belonging washes over her, warm and profound. "Thank you, everyone. I'm really happy to be here with you all. I promise I'll do my absolute best to live up to your expectations.”

She hadn't ever realised she was missing this feeling, this sense of being part of something larger than herself, of being valued and welcomed by people who understand her gifts rather than fear or ignore them.

Eagerly, she leans forward in her floating chair, listening intently as the meeting begins in earnest. Her mind races with anticipation, wondering what extraordinary matters they could possibly discuss in these secret gatherings and what grand decisions about the fate of timelines and the preservation of reality's delicate balance await her participation.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

image [https://i.imgur.com/pUoDcs0.png]

Ananke is bored beyond comprehension.

Chronomancer Jandal has been droning on for what feels like hours about a water mill trapped in a temporal loop somewhere in the rural provinces. The mechanism has been spinning perpetually for decades, giving some minor region she's never heard of an unfair economic advantage over its equally unremarkable neighbours. His presentation includes detailed charts, historical analysis, and a disturbingly thorough economic impact assessment that makes her eyes glaze over with profound disinterest.

Before this tedious discussion came an hour-long lecture on the responsible cooperative use of time magic between chronomancers. Before that, an excruciatingly bland debate about the moral complexities of using their abilities to intervene in familial disputes. Her mind has wandered to thoughts of Petersilie, of Frey, of literally anything more engaging than economic reports about mills.

Ananke sighs deeply, her head slumped against her fist as she slumps in her floating chair. The furniture bobs slightly with her shifting weight, but even this small novelty has lost its charm after hours of sitting through administrative minutiae.

Finally, mercifully, they move on to what appears to be the final topic. "To close our gathering, we must address the most pressing issue at hand,” her master announces, his tone shifting to something more serious. "Now that Ananke has joined us officially, I believe this is the appropriate moment for full disclosure.” He looks around toward the other assembled chronomancers. They examine each other's expressions with careful consideration, then turn toward him with silent nods of agreement.

"I'm sorry, what?” Ananke asks, sitting up straighter as she realises she's suddenly become the subject of discussion again.

"Chronostasis,” her master replies, his gaze settling on her with unusual gravity. "The Witching Hour believes you are the key to achieving this state, Ananke. And there are those among our own number who share similar theories about your abilities.” He studies her carefully as she shakes her head in confusion. "Your powers are genuinely unique, apprentice. They're unlike anything we've encountered in centuries of chronomantic practice.”

"We’ve had many like you, but we've never witnessed someone move separately through time the way you do,” Chronomancer Richter adds, his stern features carrying genuine concern. "It's completely unprecedented in our history. The possibilities if you were to misappropriate these talents are both dangerous and infinite in scope.” His eyes fix on her with uncomfortable intensity. "That's why the Witching Hour wants to claim you for their purposes. And it's why we voted initially to have you eliminated immediately when we first learnt about your manifestation.” Several chronomancers shift uncomfortably in their seats, clearly troubled by the memory now that they've grown to know her over the past months.

"Yes,” the Humming Man agrees, his voice carrying warmth that counterbalances Richter's coldness. "But thankfully, everyone assembled here has witnessed your true character just as I had already recognised it. We should consider ourselves extraordinarily fortunate that the powers which govern our world bestowed such remarkable talent upon someone so kind and fundamentally honest.”

Ananke has to look away, embarrassment and shame warring in her chest. If they knew the truth about her secret truce with Frey, if they discovered she's been maintaining contact with a known Witching Hour operative without reporting it, they wouldn't hold such high opinions of her integrity.

"Chronomancy is inherently dangerous magic,” Chronomancer Waldlaub explains, her small fairy form somehow commanding attention despite her diminutive size. "Conflicts you've never heard about have been waged over territories that no longer exist because of rogue practitioners running wild with their abilities. These relatively minor assignments you've undertaken so far are appropriate for an apprentice's skill level, but they don't represent the deepest scope of what our work truly entails. You must understand that only -"

"- But let's not delve too deeply into that particular topic just yet,” her master interrupts quickly, cutting off Waldlaub's explanation. The two exchange meaningful glances that suggest knowledge being deliberately withheld. He returns his attention to Ananke.

"Master, I still don't understand,” Ananke says with growing frustration. "Why does the Witching Hour specifically want me? What exactly is chronostasis?”

Her master regards her with patient seriousness. "Time moves forward for all of us, Ananke, even those who wield its power. We can pause temporal flow and move through different moments as we wish, but ultimately we cannot escape its fundamental progression. It is natural for everyone to die eventually, even chronomancers. There will come a day when I am aged and weary, and death will claim me just as it claims everyone else.” He pauses to ensure she's following. "The temporal threads surrounding us constantly connect us to forthcoming events, to choices and consequences. When the threads attached to our existence finally sever completely, we cease to exist as well.”

"I think I understand…" Ananke says hesitantly, though her expression makes it obvious she doesn't fully grasp the concept.

"Immortality, Ananke,” her master explains with stark simplicity. "It appears the Witching Hour believes you possess the capability to achieve this state for them. Chronostasis in its truest form means eternal youth, the complete freezing of time localised around a single individual at a specific point in their lifespan.”

"But how?” Ananke asks, looking around the assembled chronomancers. "I mean, yes, I can make copies of myself from different times. But I've observed them carefully. Some are older than me, some are younger. They're clearly ageing at the same rate I am.”

"The temporal duplicates aren't your actual power,” Chronomancer Jandal clarifies with his characteristic precision. "They're not directly related to achieving chronostasis.”

"They are merely a symptom of your unique gifts,” Chronomancer Waldlaub elaborates, the fairy shaking her head thoughtfully. "Think of them as the fever that confirms the presence of illness. Useful for diagnosis, but not the underlying condition itself.” She gestures upward toward Ananke's floating seat. "Even your chair exists detached from our shared reality. There's something fundamentally different about your relationship with the timeline, Ananke.”

Ananke studies the room full of expectant faces, uncertain what she's supposed to do with this revelation. Silence stretches uncomfortably as she processes the implications.

She settles back into her floating chair, which bobs gently under the shift in weight. "So what happens now?” she asks with genuine confusion. "Aren't we in contact with some kind of ‘higher power’?” She makes air quotes around the phrase. "Someone tells us what assignments to undertake? Won't they provide guidance about this situation? Can't we communicate with them directly?” Ananke gestures to the forbidden door on the side of the chamber that only the oldest of the Twelve are ever allowed to enter. She hesitates to think about why. There must be some sort of absurdly powerful magic on the other side.

It makes sense in her mind. The distance between living people and actual gods must be… something to behold. Only the greatest and most powerful likely even have a chance to bridge that gap in any meaningful way.

The assembled chronomancers exchange uncertain glances with each other. Nobody seems to possess a clear answer to her reasonable question, which strikes Ananke as deeply troubling given their supposed authority over temporal matters. Several of them look toward Richter and Vorskaya.

"That is not quite so simple,” Chronomancer Richter replies, shaking his head with what might be frustration. "For the present moment, I suggest we simply proceed with Ananke's continued training and guidance until we can gather more comprehensive information.” He raises his voice to address the full assembly. "Both regarding her unusual status and concerning the matter of the Witching Hour's intentions. Has anyone experienced contact with their operatives? Any confirmed sightings or encounters?”

The circular room remains quiet except for a few heads shaking in negative response. Ananke sinks back into her chair, feeling the weight of being an unsolved mystery even to those who should understand her best.

"All in favour of keeping Ananke despite the fact that she's a horrific abomination and existential threat to the precarious cosmic balance of the universe, primarily because we think she's nice and we like her and for no other secretly nefarious reasons at all?” Larry asks with characteristic droll humour, lazily raising her hand in the air. She receives several glares, however, from the older members of the council.

Ananke looks around the room with held breath. Every single chronomancer raises their hand without hesitation. The vote is completely unanimous, a stark contrast to that first terrifying meeting when half of them had voted for her elimination.

She's truly one of them now.

"Thank you,” Ananke says softly, genuine emotion making her voice thick. "Thank you all so much.”

Her master looks at her with eyes that shine with unmistakable paternal pride, and for the first time since discovering the burden of her unprecedented abilities, Ananke feels the weight lift slightly from her shoulders.

Unfortunately, it seems to have fallen right into her guts, where it rests with the cold weight of some odd inner guilt.

“That being said, as part of your further training, we have your first mission ready for you,” says Chronomancer Richter. Ananke blinks, pointing at herself. “Your first official mission alone.”

Ananke sits upright again.