Archive of Our Own

Even though it had only been half an hour, this was already the longest time Zorian had spent ‘just hanging out’ with Daimen since the invasion. Without the threat of the primordial hanging over them, Zorian had gradually run out of excuses to avoid his older brother.

“...and it actually takes about six months, if you can believe it. The flavour is incredible. Honey is already a top-tier food as it is, but the Taramatula have done things with it that I didn’t think were possible. Did you know you can ferment it? That’s not exactly quick either, but…”

Zorian absentmindedly picked at the roasted nuts Daimen had bought for him, keeping only half an ear on his brother’s rambling. Even in the time loop, he’d found it difficult to get past his history with Daimen, instead preferring to get on with what needed to be done. When Daimen had asked to ‘spend some time together as brothers’, Zorian hadn’t expected him to actually just want to hang out as siblings. He’d immediately been on the lookout for ulterior motives. 

First, he’d extracted triplicate assurances from Daimen that this wasn’t another poorly-thought-out attempt to get Zorian to reconcile with Fortov. True to Daimen’s promises, throughout their meandering walk through the crowded marketplaces of Cyoria, Fortov was nowhere to be seen or sensed.

The next suspicion was that this was part of some political ploy on behalf of the Taramatula to enlist Zorian’s services. While the permanent gate between Koth and Cyoria was an immense geopolitical advantage to the family Daimen had married into, it was also causing them a myriad of problems, ranging from currency exchange complexities to the threat of all-out invasion by neighbouring powers. And while Zorian had tried to keep a low profile during the month of the invasion, he’d interfered enough that the Taramatula had a pretty good idea that Daimen’s younger brother was a really good person to know in times of crisis.

Thus far, although Daimen was lingering on the Taramatula’s cooking prowess, he hadn’t mentioned anything more serious. Unless he was planning on using honeyed treats rather than honeyed words to sway Zorian, Daimen seemed to be aimlessly rambling rather than building to some overall point. 

Zorian could tell that this was going to go on for a while unless he intervened. “Daimen,” he said, cutting off his older brother’s anecdote about the right way to dip roasted figs into heated honey, “what’s this really about?”

“Huh? Can’t a guy hang out with his brother and chat about snacks for a while?” Daimen did his best to look innocent, but faltered quickly under Zorian’s unrelenting stare. “Yeah, alright. I told Orissa I’d try to have normal conversations with you for a bit first, but I should have figured you’d prefer I cut to the chase.”

Daimen stopped walking and gestured to the edge of a nearby fountain. Looking around, Zorian recognised it. It was the same place he’d met the rejuvenated Silverlake outside the loop, where she’d told him about the angelic contract bound into Zach’s soul. It seemed it had survived the invasion unscathed, because while a few of the nearby buildings were wrapped in scaffolding for repairs, the park and the fountain at its centre looked just as he remembered them. 

“So,” said Daimen after they sat. “It shouldn’t have taken me so long to put it together, honestly. You’re like me.” His voice was somber.

Zorian blinked in surprise. “What makes you say that?” Zorian had spent his entire life being compared, unfavorably, to Daimen. He knew more than anyone exactly how different they could be from each other.

“I mean, you’re an empath, same as me. That’s my guess at least, from the effortless way you use mind magic. Honestly, I’m pretty ashamed I didn’t figure it out much quicker than the newspapers. I’ve lost my original memories from the last month from when we were-”

Daimen looked around cautiously, and cast a quick privacy ward around where they were sitting. The sound of the city faded away and they were left with only the burbling sounds of the fountain. Zorian took a moment to add two further spells, covering vulnerabilities in Daimen’s ward.

“When we were fighting to prevent the release of the primordial.” Daimen continued after a deep breath, “By now I’ve mostly managed to relearn everything from the memory crystal you gave me, but it’s still a bit fuzzy. It seems most of my focus was on the immortal liches and demon hordes and dragon-mages that were trying to kill us, but I did manage to make a few basic observations about your fighting style. If an enemy actually manages to get past your legions of golems, mind magic is one of the first tools you reach for in a fight. You’re incredibly quick and flexible with it, and able to overpower enemies that ought to be resistant to anything but the most powerful attacks.”

Under other circumstances, hearing his brother compliment his skills would have provoked some response from Zorian. In this case, however, he decided to remain silent and wait for Daimen to finish.

“There's other evidence too - all the speculation in the newspapers about how you’re so involved with the aranea because of your ‘innate mind magic’. And that’s saying nothing about the crazy stuff Orissa told me one of your simulacra could do - apparently counting the soldiers in an enemy base from almost a league away is no big deal for you, nor for your magical clones.”

Daimen sighed and pinched his brow. “I’ve had my suspicions since we were kids, but now I’m pretty much certain. I’d wager a few gold coins that you have the same natural abilities that I do, and have honed them into something I can scarcely begin to imagine.”

Zorian said nothing.

Like Zorian, Daimen was stubborn, defensive, and had a view of his own abilities that some would call accurate and others would call arrogant. And like Zorian, he had a tendency to respond to accusations with indignation and denial, even if they had a grain of truth to them.

One of the many advantages - or disadvantages, depending on how you thought about it - of the time loop was that while he’d had a chance to stumble through enough conversations with Daimen to get a decent idea of his older brother’s mindset, the reverse was impossible due to the mechanics of the Sovereign Gate. 

Near the end of Zorian’s time in the loop, a version of Daimen had even become a temporary looper. Over those six months, he and Zorian had built up a degree of mutual understanding. Sadly, that Daimen had sacrificed himself to get Zorian out of the loop, and the Daimen in the real world hadn’t had the time to get to know his younger brother. 

For all the other versions of Daimen that had come into existence and been systematically erased inside the Sovereign Gate, a month simply wasn’t long enough to figure things out. So while Zorian had had plenty of time to adjust as he got to know Daimen as an adult rather than as a child, the same couldn’t be said of his older brother.

Some of the early loops Zorian had spent with Daimen had included a series of long conversations about how Daimen had grown up as an empath, learned tricks to help control and improve it, and had then ignored the signs that Zorian was going through an exacerbated version of the same experience.

Much as he didn’t like admitting it, it was still a bit of a sore spot for Zorian. The last few times he’d tried to discuss the matter with Daimen in the loop had still ended in minor shouting matches. At this point, Zorian figured it was a topic best avoided. If Daimen was raising it of his own accord, though, then there was a decent chance that this conversation was about to go off the rails.

Daimen took another deep breath. “Long story short, I wanted to ask you to teach me.”

Zorian raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t expected that. “Teach you what, exactly?”

Daimen shrugged. “Honestly, that’s the thing. I don’t even know what questions to ask - that’s how ignorant I am about this whole thing. I can defend myself well enough. Reading emotions comes fairly naturally too, but I’m pretty sure a lot more than that ought to be possible.”

“Why are you asking now?”

Daimen scratched his chin. “Well, this is a little embarrassing, but the Taramatula have-”

Zorian crossed his arms. So this was a political ploy, if just a cleverly disguised one.

Daimen reacted instantly, raising his hands defensively as he cut himself off. Daimen had always had a better grasp on his empathy than Zorian, and had become very good at reading people using both emotional cues and body language.

“Come on, Zorian. It’s not like that. You’ve made it clear that you’ve done what you can for them and that’s that. I’m not going to push you on it. Ulanna knows where you’re staying, and I’ve told her that she can come here and talk to you about security matters if she wants to. I’m staying out of it.”

Zorian raised his eyebrows, still sceptical. “Then what is it about?”

Daimen looked like he was almost… blushing?

“Orissa knows that I’m an empath. Now that she knows that you have a mental ability as well, she’s wondering if it’s the same one that I have, and if-”

Zorian nodded slowly. “If it’s a heritable bloodline.” The same question had come up the first time he and Zach had made it across the ocean to Koth. It seemed the Taramatula were very keen to add a natural mind mage to their family, especially if it came as part of a bloodline that could be passed down through the generations.

Daimen looked away from Zorian, out toward the city where people outside their privacy ward were having inaudible conversations. “Orissa and I care more about that sort of thing right now than we usually might, because we found out a few days ago that she’s expecting a child.”

Zorian’s hand froze halfway through transferring another roasted nut from the container in his lap to his mouth. This was rapidly turning into a much more serious conversation than he’d anticipated.

Daimen was still looking out at the plaza. “I’ve been thinking back on my childhood recently. At first I didn’t really know what was going on with my empathy. Depending on how things went each day, I switched between thinking something was wrong with me, or that I was special, or I was going mad. Then I found myself a teacher at the academy, and that made me feel sane again. I learned how to turn the empathy off and on, and some simple other tricks. But the more important thing is that I knew I wasn’t crazy, or a freak or anything like that.”

Daimen looked back at Zorian with a frown. “You didn’t have a teacher, did you?”

Zorian shook his head. “Not before the time loop, no.”

Daimen whistled, a low and mournful sound. “That must have been rough.”

Zorian nodded, but didn’t trust himself to say more without derailing the conversation entirely. Even though Daimen was being his usual oblivious self, it was shockingly impressive for him to acknowledge that things might have been more difficult for Zorian as an untrained empath than they were for Daimen, the academy prodigy and their parents’ golden child.

Still, it took all of Zorian’s self control to grit his teeth and avoid saying something snappy back.

“If the bloodline is heritable,” Daimen continued in an earnest tone, “then there’s a chance that my child will have the same empathy that you and I have. I don’t want them to go through what we had to go through, Zorian. When they wonder what’s happening to them when they feel someone else’s anger or fear as if it were their own, I want to be able to answer their questions and let them know they’re not alone. But as it is, I don’t know enough to even answer my own questions. That’s why I wanted to talk to you today - because there really isn’t anyone else I trust enough to ask.”

Zorian didn’t know what to say. He stood up and brushed off his clothes. 

Daimen didn’t get up, just looked up at him, clearly waiting for an answer.

“I’m not saying no,” Zorian said after a long pause. “But I’m not saying yes either. Do you have somewhere we can work without being disturbed in the Taramatula estate?”

Daimen nodded immediately. “Orissa has a secure chamber we can use.”

“Good. I’ll meet you at the rear edge of the estate at dusk.” Zorian started to walk away, but turned back briefly. “Oh, and congratulations to you and Orissa, I suppose.”

Daimen was smiling now, and even an untrained empath might have been able to feel the joy radiating from him. “Thanks.”

* * *

Sunset light was filtering through the jungles outside the Taramatula estate. As usual, he didn’t want to announce his presence, so a disguised simulacrum had paid the (exorbitant) toll to come through the permanent gate with the merchants and traders a few hours ago. He’d then covertly slipped away to cast the Gate spell himself to allow the original to come through. 

Most of Zorian’s six active simulacra had volunteered to go to Koth in his place, but there were some things Zorian felt were better done by the original. Simulacra had a way of making an unpredictable mess of delicate personal interactions. He’d told the simulacra that they could blame the simulacrum who had set him on a date with Akoja for this general policy. When pressed, they had to admit they’d make the same decision in his place - as was typically the case.

A quick teleport took him to the arranged meeting place just outside the estate’s wards where Daimen and Orissa were waiting for him. 

“Zorian! It’s lovely to see you again.” Orissa stepped forward and enveloped him in a warm hug, which Zorian reciprocated awkwardly.

“We can’t thank you enough for doing this,” she said after Zorian extracted himself. “I’ve been telling Daimen for a while now that he ought to find a more experienced teacher.”

Daimen grinned, but Zorian couldn’t help but notice that his expression was a little strained. “We didn’t expect the ‘experienced teacher’ to turn out to be my dear little brother, but hey, life is full of surprises.”

Zorian rolled his eyes. “We’ll see how chipper you are after your ‘dear little brother’ has sliced through your mind shield a few times. Let’s get inside so we can get started.”

A few minutes later, Zorian and Daimen were seated on cushions opposite one another inside Orissa’s secure chamber. The door was bolted twice from the inside, and the magical defenses were sophisticated enough that they would delay Zorian’s entry by a matter of seconds - in other words, they were better than money could usually buy. 

Orissa was inside too, but she’d promised she wouldn’t interrupt their session. Besides, she and Daimen seemed to share everything so there was scarcely a point asking her to stay outside if Daimen was going to tell her everything afterwards anyway. In a sense, it was more secure to have her in here with them so that she and Daimen wouldn’t have to discuss the session in as much detail afterwards.

“So, where do we start?” Daimen looked eager. 

Zorian had an urge to pull a marble out of his pocket and throw it at Daimen. Unfortunately marbles didn’t lend themselves to teaching mind magic all too well, so that particular pleasure would have to wait for another time.

It was probably a good idea to get an idea of how developed Daimen’s knowledge was in this area. “That depends. How’s your mind sense?”

Daimen waggled a hand in the air, indicating uncertainty. “I can tell that a mind is nearby, and usually that comes with picking up some basic emotional signals and a vague sense of direction. If they’re a particularly familiar person then I can sometimes infer a little more.”

Zorian frowned. He knew how much the aranea hated human empaths for teaching their students how to cut themselves off from “the great web”, but even so he was surprised at how underdeveloped Daimen’s psychic abilities were. Daimen was a prodigy among humans but could barely even use his own mind sense.

“One of the defining powers of a psychic is the ability to make sense of information entering the mind directly. When the aranea were trying to explain it to me, they kept telling me to ‘listen to the great web’ over and over. It took me ages to figure out what they even meant. Luckily for you, I can tell you in more human-accessible terms. The surprising thing to me was that it’s not an active skill, it’s a passive one.”

Daimen tilted his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

Spear of Resolve had been positively insufferable whenever Zorian asked her questions like that while he was still learning the basics. And then when he finally figured it out, she’d acted like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Zorian was almost jealous of Daimen for having someone to explain it to him in simple terms.

“Basically, it’s not about pushing your power outward to reach people. Instead, you need to focus inwards. Visualise the results as motes of light, and just… open your mind.”

Daimen looked sceptical. “If it’s actually that simple and I never figured it out…”

“Just try it.”

Daimen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. A few seconds passed.

“Crap.”

Zorian couldn’t repress his grin. “It’s that easy.”

“They’re like blazing stars.” Daimens eyes were still closed. “How have I never done this before…”

Zorian shrugged. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, it took me a while to figure it out too.”

Orissa was watching them eagerly. “What are you seeing?”

“It’s like all the minds nearby are these glowing points of light.”

Zorian nodded approvingly. “How many people are there in this wing of the Taramatula complex?”

Daimen paused for a minute and scrunched up his face in thought. “... Eleven?”

Zorian shook his head. “Fourteen.”

Daimen’s face contorted in concentration. Zorian privately hoped that his face didn’t look like that when he was thinking hard.

“One of the guards has a basic mind shield and is showing up differently. Noisier, if that makes sense? But the difference is why I missed them the first time.”

Zorian inclined his head. “Good.”

There was another long pause, and Daimen pointed accusingly at Orissa. “And you! You’re hiding from me!”

Orissa laughed and threw up her hands in mock surrender. “You got me.”

Daimen’s wife of less than a month was no psychic - she didn’t glow in his mind’s eye the way Daimen and other people called ‘open’ by the aranea did. Despite her natural skill with bees, reading people the way Daimen was learning to do would be close to impossible for her, at least without the aid of sophisticated divination skills or equally sophisticated equipment. Still, Orissa did have some impressive mind magic in her own right, and she’d done a decent job of muting her own mental signature enough to temporarily keep herself hidden from her husband’s search.

Daimen looked at Zorian quizzically. “That’s still only thirteen, and I’m counting you already. Unless you have a simulacrum running around that’s shielding himself and you think that counts as someone else? Because it doesn’t.”

Zorian shook his head. “No, you just forgot to count yourself.”

Daimen made a rude gesture. “Screw you, Zorian.”

The next hour or so passed quickly as Zorian came up with exercises on the spot to extend and test Daimen’s mind sense. Orissa attempted some of the same exercises alongside him, but as Zorian had predicted, they didn’t seem to be possible without the requisite natural propensity for mind magic. That didn’t seem to make her sad, though - if anything, seeing that Daimen’s innate abilities were beyond the reach of most people made her more excited, not less.

Once that was done, Zorian gave Daimen a break while he sat quietly, considering what to focus on next.

Without knowing much about Daimen’s abilities, Zorian hadn’t really had time to plan an exhaustive curriculum. He thought back to his first lessons with the aranea. Spear of Resolve and Enthusiastic Seeker of Novelty were the ones who had taught him how to turn his mind inward and access the ‘great web’ as they called it, but their lessons had been far from comprehensive. Mind Like Fire - his aranean tutor from the River Navigators web - had done a more systematic job of teaching him, so her program - with additions from some of his other aranean tutors - would probably help Daimen pick up the basics while ensuring Zorian didn’t miss any important details. 

He’d have to remember to send Mind Like Fire another gift as thanks. Even if she didn’t remember teaching him, good deeds deserved to be rewarded.

“We can move on to reading minds after you have a solid grasp of defence,” Zorian began, recounting Mind Like Fire’s speech to the best of his recollection. 

“The first thing I intend to teach you is how to encase your mind in a defensive mental shell. It is one of the simplest and most expensive means of mental defense, but also one of the most effective ones. The name is indicative; much like your exoskeleton protects your soft, squishy insides, so too does this technique create a form of mental exoskeleton to protect your vulnerable thoughts.”

“An exoskeleton?” Daimen tilted his head to one side. “Are you sure this is the lesson for humans? You haven’t got mixed up?”

“Quiet. Defend your mind.”

Daimen abruptly shut his mouth and began casting a spell. Zorian smirked. There was something undeniably satisfying about putting someone so self-assured in their place during a lesson - he could definitely see what Xvim got out of it.

A few seconds later, Zorian felt Daimen’s mind drop out of existence as his brother finished casting the mind blank spell.

Hmm. Perhaps Daimen needed a bit more instruction on the basics. 

“Now reach out and sense my emotions.”

Daimen wrinkled his forehead. “I can’t. This spell blocks others from accessing my mind, but it also blocks me from reaching out.”

Zorian leant forward. “Precisely. A mind blank is the equivalent of trying to win a battle by surrounding yourself in a sphere of iron a mile thick. Sure, you’ll probably be safe - although you should remember that nothing is guaranteed on the field of battle - but you also can’t do much to anyone else. The aranea refer to it as ‘going dark’. They view the world as a great web of connections, and cutting yourself off from it is a grievous act that should not be done lightly. They’re a bit mystical about it for my taste, but they’re right that the mind blank spell has some serious disadvantages.”

Zorian leant back and ticked the items off his fingers one by one. “Firstly, as you mentioned, it prevents you from doing any kind of outwardly-directed mind magic. Second, cutting yourself off isn’t the best kind of security. With a mind blank active, while an enemy might not be able to break into your mind, you wouldn’t even know that they were trying. That could be the warning you need to anticipate their ambush. Third, it’s a one-size-fits-all tool, which limits your options. If you think some academy graduate at the marketplace might be trying to out-bargain you by lifting some surface thoughts from your mind, you shouldn’t have to respond with the mental equivalent of an artillery-magic barrage. That can put other people on the defensive, plus it’s a substantial mana commitment. Fourth, it prevents you from using any kind of telepathic communication strategy with your allies. Fifth, if someone eventually did find a way around your mind blank, you’d have no feedback to tell you something was wrong.”

Daimen nodded in reluctant acknowledgement. Orissa was reading a book at her desk, and piped up to add to the list: “And you go crazy!”

“Good point, thank you Orissa. Long term use has been known to make users of the spell go crazy.”

Zorian took a moment to stretch his shoulders before continuing.

“Most of these disadvantages also apply to all of pre-constructed ‘standard’ protective versions you’d know, even if they’re more light-weight than a mind blank. A real mind shell, the sort I will teach you to produce, will be infinitely more adaptive and responsive than any kind of rote-learned spell. You’ll be able to sense when you’re being psychically attacked, and seamlessly turn that into a response in kind. So, when you’re ready, try to shield your mind without using a spell, and I’ll try to get through it.”

Daimen went pale. “You’re not going to look into my mind, are you?”

“Yes,” Zorian said bluntly. “To teach you how to protect yourself and how to read others basically requires that I test your mind shield by breaking into your mind. If you’d like, I can promise to limit myself to your surface thoughts. Even so, this requires a good deal of trust on your part, since once I break through there’s functionally nothing you could do if I decided to go back on my word.”

Zorian waited patiently for Daimen’s response. If his older brother didn’t want to continue under those conditions, then there wasn’t much Zorian could do to help him.

Daimen deliberated quietly for a moment, then shared a long look with Orissa. Then he locked eyes with Zorian again. “If you promise not to look into my memories, I trust you.”

That was… honestly a little surprising. Zorian had half-expected Daimen to back out when he realised how completely this training would put him at Zorian’s mercy. His willingness to go further was a testament to either his desire to learn mind magic properly, or a degree of trust for Zorian that his older brother hadn’t really displayed before. Maybe fighting together to protect Cyoria had served as a bonding experience in Daimen’s mind?

Zorian shook off the speculation and nodded to Daimen again. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

Daimen took a few deep breaths. “I’m ready.”

Zorian closed his eyes and reached out tentatively. 

The mind magic users he’d encountered thus far largely fell into one of two camps. The vast, vast majority of human mages weren’t open, and thus relied on established patterns that could be analysed and subverted with a little creative thinking. Even non-empaths who were relative masters of the art like Xvim and Quatach Ichl were more static in their approach than was ideal, and Zorian had learned across a multitude of clashes that the more adaptable approach he favoured could typically come out on top - as long as his physical body wasn’t threatened in that time, of course, which an enemy like Quatach Ichl could usually manage to arrange.

The aranea were the second category, of course. Every conversation with one of the telepathic spiders involved at least a little testing of the others’ defences, and the fluidity and back-and-forth of a psychic battle with an aranea made a conflict with a human look like sparring with a toddler. 

Unfortunately for the aranea, their small mana pools and incompatibility with human magic meant they were enormously disadvantaged by the difference in raw power. The average academy student could beat an aranea in single combat, and a trained battle mage with a strong mental shield could take on a whole aranean web in a fair fight - which was one reason why the aranea were experts in avoiding fair fights to begin with. 

Daimen’s first freeform mind shield wasn’t quite like anything Zorian had ever seen. Daimen was no slouch when it came to either mana reserves or shaping skills, and the shield protecting his mind was enough to temporarily stall Zorian’s approach - if only out of curiosity - as he examined it before making a move. 

Daimen seemed to have taken inspiration from his wife’s family. Any mental feelers Zorian extended towards him were promptly assaulted by a swarm of mental ‘bees’ - tiny pockets of distributed attention that collectively flowed to whichever part of Daimen’s mind was under external attack. It was a rare skill for a mage to split their mind to this extent without practice. The aranea had a talent for it, and apparently the Taramatula did as well. Daimen was an expert mage with a deep mana pool and he wasn’t pulling his punches - each of the bees was empowered with enough mana to knock out a fully-grown man.

Zorian could have simply overpowered this technique with brute force, but not only would that exhaust them both too quickly, it would defeat the point of the lesson.

For all the creativity, Daimen was still a rank amateur in this area, and it took Zorian a few seconds to figure out a simple countermeasure. The bees were intelligent enough to seek out and disrupt intrusion, but that was about it - they weren’t able to tell the difference between a ‘real’ attack and a feint. And feint Zorian did, with dozens of illusory attacks that fell apart at the first sign of resistance interspersed with real ones that were subtle enough to avoid early detection. Daimen’s bees scrambled to respond, but with all the false alarms, virtually all of Daimen’s attention was focused on frantically responding to probes that would have done nothing at all, while the real threats passed by him unnoticed.

[Not bad, for a first try,] Zorian said to Daimen from inside his mind. [That’s a neat approach].

Daimen was breathing heavily, and responded out loud, “How did you do that? Did you have multiple simulacra working on me at the same time?”

“No,” Zorian said, “but we can try that if you’d like.”

Daimen spluttered for a moment before shaking his head. “I think I’d better practise at this level first.”

Zorian inclined his head with a slight grin. “Very well. Shall we start over?”

* * *

Two hours later, Zorian was still enjoying himself immensely. 

Daimen, on the other hand, was drenched with sweat. He’d diligently incorporated each of Zorian’s suggestions for improving his defences, and each time Zorian had still managed to find a way to crack them.

If he were going on Daimen’s beleaguered appearance alone, Zorian would have called for a halt much earlier. Just the brief moment of surface thoughts he gathered after each successful intrusion and before withdrawing was enough to make it clear that Daimen was also having a good time. He seemed to regard the session as both free training from a world-class archmage (which was basically true) and as high-quality bonding time with a younger brother who was usually pretty hard to get along with (which Zorian had to admit was also a fair assessment). Daimen’s only misgiving was his ego - he didn’t particularly enjoy the experience of ‘losing’ to Zorian again and again.

Zorian didn’t have particularly much sympathy for him there.

They agreed to stop at Orissa’s request, who suggested that it might be a good idea to get some sleep. When Zorian left, it was only after agreeing to return for another session in a week’s time, and with a box of honey-roasted figs tucked into his cloak.

* * *

“I’ve spent all this time learning to defend against you specifically,” said Daimen. “Do you think there’d be a benefit to practising with some other people?”

This was their fourth session, and while some Zorian still preferred discretion, he was growing a little more comfortable with the idea of the Taramatula knowing he was here. As a result, they were having today’s training on a grassy hill overlooking the jungle, rather than in Orissa’s secure chamber. 

“Honestly,” said Zorian, “if you can handle me, you’ll be ready for pretty much anything. Still, it might be easier to judge your progress if we had more benchmarks.”

For all Zorian’s practise with telepathic combat, he wasn’t a particularly representative sample of the variety and kind of attackers that Daimen might encounter in practise. 

Daimen hummed contemplatively. “The problem is that there aren’t many other people I’d feel comfortable rummaging around inside my head. We can’t exactly go to an Eldemarian expert because of the knowledge of the time loop in my head. Plus I don’t think many of them are empaths, so they would probably recommend standard mental defences, and that isn’t what I need to practise.”

Zorian frowned. Daimen was right that there wasn’t a particularly large pool of potential teaching assistants. That said, if they were looking for potential training partners who would try out a wide variety of attack vectors without having the strength to actually push through and read Daimen’s memories, then a particular suggestion Novelty had made to him near the start of the time loop came to mind. There was a chance Zorian would be able to ask a certain friend for a favour... 

Zorian noted with a small grin that there was a decent chance that Daimen would not be a fan of the idea.

“Daimen,” Zorian asked innocently, “how do you feel about baby giant spiders?”

* * *

Simulacrum number two waved in polite greeting as Daimen and Zorian stepped through the Gate from Koth into the centre of the Cyorian web.

Daimen’s eyes were wide with curiosity as he looked around the inside of the dimly-lit tunnels. Zorian had to elbow him in the ribs to remind him of the formality of the situation. Humans were rarely allowed inside the confines of a web, and virtually never allowed into the more central sections where they now stood.

[Greetings, Daimen Kazinski. Your brother speaks highly of you. In recognition of that and your assistance during the invasion, we tolerate your presence. Ensure that you remain respectful and you will be respected in kind.] Spear of Resolve’s tone was that of a leader addressing a foreign dignitary - which wasn’t far from being the case, Zorian supposed. Even if he wasn’t here in an official capacity, Daimen was effectively a representative of the Taramatula, which had ascended from a little-known family on another continent to one of Eldemar’s most relevant trading partners overnight thanks to the permanent gate.

Spear of Resolve was flanked by a pair of spider-guards in the tunnel ahead of them, but was postured almost casually - not that Daimen could probably read the spider body-language as well as Zorian could.

Daimen’s psychic response was characteristically diplomatic. [I’m honoured beyond words that you allow me here, matriarch.]

Spear of Resolve clicked her mandibles in amusement. [Beyond words. Yes, quite.]

Zorian rolled his eyes. [Thank you for agreeing to see us on such short notice, Matriarch. I believe my simulacrum explained the purpose of our visit?]

The matriarch led them through the stone tunnels as she responded. Zorian and Daimen had to stoop a little, but fortunately crawling wasn’t required to get around this part of the web.

[Your brother is also Open. Among a species of flickerminds, a pair of siblings… quite a coincidence. Perhaps my web’s affiliation with the Kazinski family will last longer than just our lifetimes?]

[He is Open, yes,] Zorian responded, deciding to ignore the matriarch’s follow-up question. [I’ve done my best to help him train his psychic defences, but he suggested that it would be a good idea to broaden his experiences. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather ask for help than your web.]

Spear of Resolve didn’t say anything, but Zorian could tell from her emotions that his flattery had had the desired effect.

A few minutes later, their little group stopped outside a chamber that was sealed shut by a thick layer of woven spider-silk.

[Listen carefully, Daimen Kazinski. This is our web’s hatchery, where our hatchlings live together and learn to communicate.]

[It’s kind of like their equivalent of elementary schools,] Zorian supplied by way of further explanation.

[None of the children have met a human before, let alone an Open one,] Spear of Resolve continued. [They will be curious, and will likely express that curiosity in the form of… enthusiastic mental probing].

[What she means,] Zorian clarified, [is that you can expect a good bit of - how did Novelty put it - ‘telepathic roughhousing’.]

[Now,] the matriarch continued, [it is crucial that you remember that these are children, while you are a human adult. I am aware that you are perfectly capable of defending yourself with force, should you so choose.]

Her tone abruptly became almost threatening as she continued, [You will ensure the children’s safety as your first priority, and treat them as if you would your own.]

Zorian established a private mental channel with Daimen and added a note of caution of his own. [The aranea are fiercely protective of their young. I’m actually a bit surprised they agreed to let us do this at all. If you feel uncomfortable, let me know and I can protect you and get you out of here quick - but don’t hurt them. They’re not like me, and if you lash out even for a moment, there’s a good chance that you’ll kill them outright.]

Daimen took a deep breath and sent a mental signal of assent.

Then one of Spear of Resolve’s guards opened the web-door, and Daimen stepped through to where dozens of dinner-plate sized spiderlings immediately swarmed him.

Zorian made sure to carefully preserve his memory of Daimen’s facial expression as the tiny, excitable spiders crawled up his legs to his torso, in case he was ever annoyed at Daimen later and wanted to reminisce.

Keeping track of the telepathic communications from the outside was an interesting exercise. Zorian had plenty experience in two-party interactions, but trying to figure out what was happening while his brother tried to simultaneously greet and fend off thirty excitable psychic youngsters was a fairly unique experience.

The young aranea seemed to be universally excited by the appearance of a human mage in their midst, and were alternating between tripping over each other with questions, trying to test Daimen’s psychic defences, and climbing up the archmage’s torso to ‘taste’ his various body parts with the tiny hairs on their legs.

[They’re cute when they’re young, aren’t they?] remarked Spear of Resolve.

[ M y brother is 22 actually, well out of adolescence.]

[I was actually talking about my brood,] she responded with a note of amusement, [but I have to admit seeing your brother hamfistedly figure out how to ‘talk’ is also fairly adorable.] 

She gestured with one of her forelimbs to the writhing mass of spider-children. [About half of these are mine,] she said with a tone of pride he wasn’t used to hearing from her.

That was a bit of a surprise to Zorian. He’d never really looked into spider reproduction - heck, the closest he’d got to thinking about it was when he’d recovered the grey hunter’s egg sack for Silverlake - but the thought that Spear of Resolve had more than twenty children was still a bit of a shock.

[They’re very cute, congratulations,] he said, and was half-surprised to find out that he meant it. Apparently spending so much time around Novelty and his other spider friends had changed his sensibilities enough for him to see his brother being submerged in a sea of spider-like limbs and genuinely think ‘aww’, rather than immediately deploy a magical flamethrower as might have been his reaction before the time loop.

[Daimen!] Spear of Resolve had to psychically ‘yell’ to ensure she was heard above the telepathic ruckus in the hatchery. [Don’t let them all talk to you all at once. They need discipline - give it to them!]

It took Daimen a few seconds to respond. [Uhh, how do I do that? I can’t concentrate on anything. It’s like I’m seeing dozens of images at once.]

Zorian suppressed a smile as Spear of Resolve stepped into the hatchery and immediately took charge of the situation. The younglings were playfully nipping at her legs, but they were still careful to move out of her path as she approached where Daimen was now sitting cross-legged on the stone floor of the hatchery.

[Telepathic communication is a little like fighting a duel,] she said patiently, [and a little like making a new friend. You can’t let your guard down, but you don’t want to block them out entirely either.]

Zorian started to relax as Spear of Resolve began to give Daimen her version of a basic education in empathy. He’d initially had some misgivings about the amount of favours he’d promised the matriarch in exchange for this lesson. Sitting back and watching her teach his brother how to deal with a dozen psychic attacks at once while at the same time gently removing one of her children from his face, he decided that it was easily worth it. 

* * *

“Until now,” Zorian said, “we’ve largely been working on the defensive side of things. There’s a few reasons for that focus, but to be a well rounded empath requires an ability to reach out as well as protect yourself - and eventually, it should become clear that there really isn’t a difference between the two abilities.”

Daimen grinned widely. “Is this the part where I get to break into your mind?”

Zorian shook his head. “Well, you’re welcome to try, but you shouldn’t measure yourself by that benchmark. You’re already able to get some information about another person’s surface-level emotions. The next step is to try to dig deeper and access someone’s deeper thoughts, and eventually their memories.”

Daimen frowned. “Are you going to deliberately lower your defences then? I have to get practical experience with this somehow. I was willing to let you access my mind.”

Zorian grimaced. “Well, that’s not really the same thing. This skill involves reading memories, which is much more invasive than surface thoughts, and that was already a pretty big extension of trust. Preferences aside, there’s quite a few memories in my head that would make you a target for capture or assassination. More than you already are, I mean.”

Daimen laughed. “You little brat, I should have known you wouldn’t trust me. But I get the point. I’d rather not get abducted in the middle of the night by an immortal lich so he can rip your one weakness out of my mind, or whatever. How did you train this to begin with, Zorian?”

Zorian wondered for a moment whether or not to answer, then decided it was probably the prudent choice to be open. “To learn the skills without risking injury to the target involves a series of careful exercises before even touching another mind. I didn’t have time for that, so I practised reading human memories on cultists and invaders during the time loop. Intruding on someone’s inner memories is tricky. It requires a decent amount of skill to do without causing damage, so it was easier for me to learn if I didn’t care whether or not the targets would be functional afterwards. ”

There were plenty of reasons for people to be scared of mind magic already, and Zorian didn’t like the idea of spreading around the knowledge that improperly constructed mental probes could easily leave someone with a figuratively melted brain. But the idea of Daimen wandering around and reading people’s memories without knowing that a wrong move would leave them as mindless husks was actually worse, so it was better to make sure the risks were clear.

Daimen winced. “That does sound like a bit of a downside to the quick approach. So how long do these exercises take?”

Zorian gave Daimen an appraising look. “With your shaping skills? Maybe we could get it down to two or three years.”

Daimen threw up his hands exasperatedly. “I’d really rather learn these skills before the end of the decade. And if I’m understanding right, you’re saying that to do that we’d have to find someone who we’re willing to overpower and basically kill, like your cultists. That’s if there even are any cultists left after Alanic’s one-man crusade.”

He paused and drummed his fingers on his thigh thoughtfully. “You’re basically an expert at this sort of thing, right? You can avoid damaging minds when you read them?”

Zorian nodded. 

“Is there a way for you to ‘guide’ me as I try to read someone’s mind?”

Zorian scratched his head. It wasn’t a half bad idea. “I’m not sure, actually. I’ve never tried exactly what you’re describing, but I suppose we could try it. I’ve shielded other people’s minds for them before, and I’ve worked together as a team to try to break down someone else’s mind shield. Both of those are kind of similar to guiding someone’s mental probe.”

Daimen sucked air in through his teeth. “That still leaves us with the problem of finding a cultist, or failing that, someone who is willing to volunteer to take the risk that something goes wrong.”

Orissa looked up from her book. “If the target was a volunteer, how sure are you that you could prevent damage to their mind?”

Zorian paused to think. If Daimen was cautious and used only small quantities of mana, and if Zorian was focusing all his attention on cutting off Daimen’s access if anything went wrong, then he was fairly sure he could prevent serious damage. The main reason the cultists he’d practised on had suffered so much injury was because he’d simply punched through the surface layers of his victim’s mind with a powerful telepathic probe, and that wouldn’t be an issue if the target was a volunteer and wasn’t erecting psychic defences to begin with.

“There would still be some risk of temporary damage. I can only guarantee I should be able to block Daimen’s access before he did any permanent harm.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Alright, I volunteer.”

Zorian and Daimen stared at her. Zorian glanced quickly across to Daimen. His jaw was hanging open in shock.

Orissa put down her book and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m not coming up with this on the spur of the moment, Daimen. I’ve been considering the idea since I found out about your innate mental ability, actually. We both have our ambitions, and while we’re mostly on the same page, I have noticed a few places where our goals… diverge a little.”

Daimen scowled. “If you’re talking about the time I didn’t tell you when -”

Orissa gestured with a hand to cut him off. “I don’t mean anything in particular, beyond the mere existence of moments of that nature. We can both agree that times like that have a tendency to act as an unnecessary roadblock in our plans. It would be better if we were able to act as a united front. Both our interests are better served by being on the same page from the start.”

“That’s true,” Daimen started, “but-”

“We have a unique advantage over other bonded pairs,” she said, and there was an intensity in her eyes that Zorian had only seen from her a few times before. “If we’re willing, we can trust each other and plan together in a way that other people can only dream of. No games, no betrayals, no ulterior motives. The Gate to Cyoria is open, we have more political rivals than we can count on two hands, and we have a child on the way. I want every advantage we can get. If that means letting you read my mind, then I’m game if you are.”

Zorian looked across to his brother to gauge his reaction. Daimen was still staring at Orissa with… wonder and love? in his eyes, and Zorian quickly looked away, somewhat embarrassed.

It took Daimen a long time to answer. “...I need to think about it.”

“Um, ok,” said Zorian. “I have some preparations I need to make first, so I’ll be going now.”

“That sounds good,” Daimen said, although his eyes didn’t leave Orissa’s. 

“I’ll be back the day after tomorrow, at the usual time.”

“That’s perfect,” said Orissa as she stood up to open the door for him to leave. “We have some things we need to attend to before then as well.”

He shook his head incredulously as he stepped out through Orissa’s bedroom into the jungle, wondering what he’d got himself into. 

* * *

Daimen and Orissa sat cross-legged opposite one another on the floor of her private chamber. Cushions were carefully positioned around them so there was no way for them to hurt themselves if they fell. There was a slim chance that Zorian would have to quickly plunge one or both of them into unconsciousness to prevent a cascading cognitive failure, and the last thing he wanted was to risk complicating things with a concussion from someone’s head hitting the stone floor.

Underneath the cushions, the floor was inscribed with a series of runes. Some of them were basic, not much more sophisticated than the defensive amulet he’d made to use as protection near the start of the time loop. The idea was that if Daimen or Orissa had instinctive reactions that seemed likely to cause damage, then Zorian could send a pulse of mana to the spell formulas they were sitting on, which would immediately activate simple mind shields to keep them from further harm.

Others were complex, like the mana dampening framework that Zorian had constructed around where Daimen was sitting. It was similar to the shaping-disruption wards that Zorian remembered from the train to Cyoria, with a few changes a simulacrum had figured out over the last two days. Rather than being designed to prevent spells from being cast entirely, it allowed the mana shaping to proceed unhindered but drained away a portion of the mana in each spell and dissipated it into the environment, taking exponentially more mana from more powerful spells. The idea was to limit the pressure Daimen could exert on Orissa’s mind, so that he wouldn’t be able to injure her even by accident. It unfortunately wasn’t the kind of ward that would be particularly useful in combat, since a competent mage could easily bypass or overpower the effects - but as a kind of ‘training wheels’ designed to prevent Daimen from over-extending itself, Zorian thought it would be sufficient. 

Zorian was sitting a little further away from the pair. He’d carved some runes around himself as well, but they weren’t much more than basic divination tools that were supposed to help him notice dangers as quickly as possible. His task would be difficult, but his role was to guide Daimen’s fledgeling probes and constrain their access. The mental dexterity required meant that it wasn’t something that was particularly easy to simplify with tools.

“Orissa, are you ready?” Zorian asked.

“I’m ready,” she said. Her eyes were closed, and she was smiling slightly.

“Daimen?”

He took a deep breath, then nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Then begin, the way we talked about. Reach out gently. The goal is to identify her mind, then make contact…”

Zorian stretched out his mind to observe. It was the first time he’d done something even remotely like this. 

Tapping into Orissa’s consciousness, he felt Daimen’s first moment of contact. Zorian was ready to shut it down if anything seemed like it was going wrong, but Daimen’s contact was incredibly gentle, more like his mind was brushing against Orissa’s than trying to read her.

For her part, Orissa was afraid. When they’d last met she’d seemed confident in this plan, but now misgivings were creeping in. Despite that, her conscious mind was firm in its resolve to carry out her plan. 

Most minds - especially those of people who had some skill with mind-magic, like Orissa - would automatically throw up defences when they felt the touch of an intruder. Zorian was prepared to suppress Orissa’s reaction in case she instinctively attacked Daimen in response, but almost the exact opposite happened. To the limited extent that a non-empath was capable of it, she was making her mind as easy as possible to read, tearing down the boundaries that would normally separate her from the world around her. 

“Uh, well done. Now you should try to access a memory. Orissa, you can help by focusing on a specific memory in your active thoughts, so that Daimen has an easier time finding it.”

Before long, Orissa’s mind was dominated by a particular memory. It was impossible for Zorian to continue monitoring without gleaning some information by accident, so he pretty quickly figured out which memory it was. 

It was Orissa’s memory of their wedding - an event which Zorian had already observed from another angle. Strangely, that meant he could see a past version of himself through Orissa’s eyes, standing amongst the crowd. The memory seemed to have shrunk down, or perhaps was that the wrong way to frame it. In her mind, Daimen’s smiling face was almost the only thing she could see, and the rest of the world faded away as she stared into his eyes. At the same time, Zorian felt an overwhelming flood of emotion - from Orissa’s memory, from Daimen as he observed the memory from a new perspective, and from the Orissa of now who willingly shared her every thought and moment with her husband and lover. 

More than any physical image, Zorian felt awash with a vicarious feeling of security - Orissa’s infinite confidence that Daimen would be there for her, no matter what, the knowledge that if she reached out for help, he would be by her side in an instant, and Daimen’s giddy joy at seeing her feelings in a way that would be near-impossible to fake.

Zorian sent a pulse of mana into the mind shield spell formulae to cut off the contact and retreated into the safety of his own head as quickly as possible. 

It took Daimen and Orissa a long moment to open their eyes, and when they did, it looked like the room would have to burst into flames to get them to look away from one another.

Zorian stood up hastily, knocking over a glass of water he’d placed there earlier in case he got thirsty.

“I have to go, sorry. We can continue another day if you want.”

Orissa stood up quickly and touched him on the shoulder before he could complete his teleport. “Thank you, Zorian,” she said quietly, and there wasn’t a trace of humor or sarcasm in her words. Then he released his spell, and he was gone.

* * *

“You’re not usually a fan of taverns. What changed? Not that I’m complaining,” Zach said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and slamming the empty beer glass on the table.

Zorian didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a long draught of his beer. He’d never understood the appeal of alcohol, but if there was a chance it would make him forget what he’d just witnessed then he was willing to take that chance.

Zach snorted. “And you’re drinking now. Here’s to this new Zorian!” He waved to the waitress and gestured to get their glasses refilled.

Zorian wiped his mouth and sank back into the padded booth. “I knew my brother was a bit of a romantic, but it went way beyond that. Those two are just…”

He threw up his hands exasperatedly. “Frankly, I have no idea how they even function. It’s like the world is divided into two groups in Orissa’s head - ‘Daimen’ and ‘not-Daimen’, and they’re about equally important.”

Zach whistled wistfully. “That’d be the life, wouldn’t it?”

Zorian shot him a quizzical look. “Didn’t you go on like, a million dates in the time loop?”

“That’s not the same thing, Zorian! First dates with someone who doesn’t remember you beyond the end of the month? After a certain point it felt like everyone I spoke to - except you, once you joined - had a set of predetermined responses, and I could just pick which path I wanted to take down the conversation tree. No, the time loop robbed me of my chance at teenage romance, and I’ll just have to make my peace with that and do my best to avoid entering a jealous rage and raining meteors on lovesick couples like your brother and Orissa.” Out of breath from his rant, he leant back to take another swig from his newly refilled glass.

Zorian was nearly certain Zach was being sarcastic. That said, he found it unusually difficult to predict Zach’s actions where romance was concerned, so he made a mental note to have a simulacrum add some wards to the Taramatula estate to detect meteors and the like.

“I’m still struggling to wrap my head around it,” Zorian said. “On some level Orissa knows Daimen has limits, but there’s another part of her mind that feels certain that he’d tear holes in reality to make sure they could be together. She’s a smart person and I’m willing to admit that my brother is fairly skilled, but that kind of certainty is flat-out ridiculous.”

Zach laughed. “Tearing holes in reality, huh? If you’re trying to say he’d do something impossible, then you’re going to have to come up with some examples that we haven’t actually done.”

Zorian rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. If one of them were in a life-or-death situation, I think there’s a serious chance they’d be willing to die for each other…” He trailed off, remembering Zach’s willingness to wait out the month of the invasion and die to the angel’s contract rather than clean up loose ends by killing him.

The waitress walked past, and Zach reached out to snag another beer from her tray. “Yeah, that’s pretty wild.”

Zorian put down his glass and stared at the bubbles in the foam. His fellow time traveller had never even considered the possibility of treachery for a moment, nor had he even considered asking Zorian to take the fall instead. The thought of prioritising his own life above Zorian’s simply hadn’t crossed his mind.

For a brief moment, Zorian considered asking Zach who he’d reach out to if he was in trouble. He dismissed the idea immediately because he already knew what the answer would be. 

A series of memories cascaded through Zorian’s mind. Zach handing him a gold ring inscribed with spell formulas to keep him safe. The pair of them buying a small estate together and using dimensionalism to isolate it into a portable pocket dimension that served as a shared moveable house. Soaring through the sky together in the bodies of eagles. Days turning into months as they studied, worked and idled away time together inside Black Rooms under Cyoria. The first moment he’d returned to the real world from the Sovereign Gate and reached out via their shared soul-marker to brush Zach’s mind with his own, with barely enough contact to wake him up. 

For a moment, he considered reaching out to read Zach’s mind to see exactly how certain Zach was that Zorian would always be there for him. Then, like earlier, he dismissed that thought - because he already knew what he would find. 

Shiiit.

For the second time today, Zorian abruptly stood up. This time, he also pulled his scarf up to cover his reddening face. “I, uh, I have to go.”

Zach frowned at him. “Already? We just got here!”

Zorian nodded perfunctorily. “Yes, something has come up.”

“Anything I can help with?”

Zorian shook his head.

“Alright,” Zach said, and put his feet up on the booth’s seat where Zorian had been sitting a moment ago. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

Zorian said nothing, instead turning to leave.

Zach watched him go with a small smile. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, quiet enough that no one else could hear.