Time Cursed Mage - Chapter 9: The Ritual

He shook his head. "No. How to read."

Iris smacked her forehead with a slap. "How in the world do you know how to speak but not read?" she exclaimed.

Kaspar shrugged. "No idea. Speaking feels natural; I don't even think about it."

"Have you tried reading without thinking?" Iris retorted, a hint of sarcasm edging her voice.

For a moment, Kaspar pondered her suggestion. 'Could it be that simple?' Reaching into his satchel, he pulled out the worn book he had been carrying. He opened it to the first page and fixed his gaze on the lines of text, trying to clear his mind and let the words come to him without thinking.

But no matter how he stared, the symbols remained meaningless ink splotches on the paper.

"Nothing," he admitted, a note of frustration creeping into his tone.

"Right..." Iris tapped her chin. "So, how am I supposed to teach you to read?"

"You could start with the basics," Kaspar suggested. "Help me translate a page from this book." He handed her the book.

She accepted it, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "What book is this?" she asked, flipping through a few pages.

"It's some kind of journal," Kaspar replied. "Something I was writing in."

"Hmm." Iris leafed through the pages, her gaze scanning the entries. "Could be. Let's start with the first page."

"Agreed." Kaspar turned back to the beginning and settled himself beside Iris on a flat rock.

His focus was on the open book before him, but for a fleeting second, a subtle fragrance caught his attention. Surprising him, he detected a faint hint of lavender emanating from her. Considering she was wearing armor and had been on patrol, he expected the tang of metal or sweat.

"I think this is the most basic place to begin," Iris said, drawing his attention back to the book. She pointed to the rows of script. "See these symbols? These are letters. Altogether, we have seventy letters that form words. Does that make sense?"

"Yes," Kaspar nodded. "Seventy letters that form words. What are these letters?"

He handed her the pen, and Iris began to sketch each symbol onto a blank piece of paper. "Let's go through them one by one," she suggested. "I'll show you the letter and how it sounds."

As the afternoon unfolded, Iris guided him through the intricacies of their language.

"The gate's opening! Prepare yourselves!"

The sharp command jolted Kaspar and Iris from their study. The two had been so absorbed in their task that the world outside their secluded nook had faded.

Iris stretched. "Looks like you'll need to find another teacher after today," she remarked, a hint of a playful smile on her lips.

Kaspar looked up from the pages. "Yes, it's the last day, isn't it?" he replied.

"Indeed," she confirmed, slipping her foot back into her well-worn boot. "Can't say I'm not relieved. I'm eager to return home." She rose gracefully, brushing errant strands of dark hair from her face.

As she prepared to leave, a thought struck Kaspar. "Oh! Before you go, a hypothetical question," he blurted out. "If you were to face wyverns, how would you go about it?"

Iris paused, arching an eyebrow in surprise. "Wyverns? That's an odd question," she mused, scratching her head. "They've been extinct for centuries. But if the legends hold any truth, they breathed fire and spewed venom. With my earth magic, I'd conjure a spear to pierce their hearts or try to crush their heads."

Kaspar frowned, absently rubbing the back of his neck. 'That's not particularly helpful,' he thought. Her answer, though logical from her perspective, offered no help to someone like him. "So, targeting the head and heart would be the way to kill them?" he pressed, seeking confirmation.

"According to the old tales, yes," Iris replied with a casual shrug. "But like I said, it's all just folklore now." She glanced at him, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Thanks for the break. It was nice to have a moment away from the routine."

"Anytime," Kaspar responded, attempting a smile in return.

Iris gave a slight nod, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer before she turned to leave. "Take care, Kaspar".

Alone once more, Kaspar reached for his sword. Concealing it beneath his robe, he secured it at his side. His mind buzzed with an overload of information.

Clutching the book filled with notes, he tried to remember very leter he learned. 'I can recall almost everything,' he thoght. 'If I can retain the symbols, learning will be easier than I imagined.'

Emerging from the hideout, Kaspar joined the stream of students going toward the gate.

As he descended the path alongside his peers, Kaspar's thoughts drifted to another piece of information. 'There should be a Seventh Circle mage among us,' he recalled. A powerful figure like that would be hard to miss. Yet in all his loops, he had never seen this mage enter the chamber where the massacre unfolded.

'I don't remember him being there when I was imprisoned either,' he pondered.

Kaspar slowed his pace, allowing others to pass as he became lost in contemplation. 'I need to find out what happens to him,' he resolved.

He was slowly letting the others pass by him, trying to slip out at the end of the line.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" a stern voice barked from behind.

Kaspar flinched, not prepared for the question. Turning, he faced one of the officers.

"Um..." Kaspar hesitated, his mind racing for an excuse. His gaze drifted toward the ritual site where six robed figures were starting the ritual. "To the bathroom, sir."

"None of that now," the officer snapped, his tone allowing no argument. With a firm shove, he pushed Kaspar back in line. "Keep moving."

Kaspar sighed heavily, resigning himself to the inevitable. "Shit," he muttered under his breath.

As he already expected, Wyverns appeared. They attacked them, and Kaspar died once again, burned.

--

"Dammit!" Kaspar jolted awake, sweat clinging to his skin like a second layer.

"Son of a bitch," he growled, cursing the officer who had pushed him to the gate.

"Hey! Some of us are trying to sleep here!" a muffled voice complained from a nearby tent.

Kaspar rubbed his temples, drawing in a deep, steadying breath. 'I need to stay in my hideout until the ritual ends,' he resolved.

As he had learned in previous attempts, he went to the noble's tent in the upper area and stole the sword. After that, it was easy to pretend to be a noble and request Iris’s presence.

Back in his hideout, Kaspar immersed himself in training. The rhythmic sound of his blade slicing through the air had become a kind of meditation. He waited while anticipation was gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

It wasn't long before Iris arrived, her footsteps soft against the rocky ground. This was their third time meeting. Though only Kaspar knew that.

He made the exact same proposal as the day before. She had a tendency to resist. Yet, the moment her feet slipped out of her tight boots and touched the ground, Iris’s resistance vanished.

"Alright," Iris said, settling onto a smooth boulder and stretching her legs. "What is it you'd like me to teach you?"

"To read," Kaspar replied. "I remember some of the letters but not how to read them."

She gave him an appraising look. "Really? Alright then."

Thus began their lessons. Over the next five days, Kaspar established a steady routine.

He would steal the sword. Call for Iris. She would teach him until it was time to go to the cave. He would die, and everything would start over again.

On the fifth day, Kaspar's persistence paid off. Tracing his finger over the faded ink, he read aloud from one of the journal's pages.

"Day 15 of The Emperor," he began, his voice filled with triumph and apprehension. "I received the letter from the Academy. It's my last chance; either I do well on this expedition, or I will be expelled."

He paused, waiting for Iris approval.

"Well, at least that's a clue for you," Iris remarked, offering an encouraging smile. "Now it's clear why you came."

Kaspar nodded. "Yes," he agreed, a contemplative expression crossing his face.

"We are beginning the opening of the gate! Prepare yourselves!"

The call pulled Kaspar and Iris from their shared moment of triumph.

Iris glanced toward the distant commotion. "I have to go," she said, her voice tinged with resignation. She adjusted the straps of her armor. "I suppose we won't see each other after this."

Kaspar's heart tightened at her words. He knew the cycles would persist for him, but for her, this might seem like a farewell. "How can I find you?" he asked, his gaze locking onto hers. "After the expedition... where can I see you again?"

For a moment, Iris seemed taken aback, a flustered look crossing her face. She averted her eyes briefly before meeting his gaze once more. "I serve in the city guard of Hohenheim," she replied, a hint of a smile touching her lips. "You can find me there."

"Thank you," Kaspar said.

She hesitated, as if weighing unspoken words, then offered a brief nod. "Take care of yourself," she murmured before turning and slipping out of the hideout.

He sat there for a while. Opening the journal once more, he returned to his reading, piecing together fragments of his past.

A distant rumble stirred him from his focus. The unmistakable sound of massive stone doors grinding open. The gate. Kaspar's senses sharpened, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Closing the journal, he tucked it into his satchel and emerged from the hideout.

The colossal gate stood ajar.

Suddenly, monstrous figures burst forth from the gate, Wyverns.

The camp erupted into chaos as screams pierced the air. Soldiers and mages scrambled to mount a defense, but the onslaught was swift and brutal. One wyvern swooped low, unleashing a river of fire that engulfed the row of tents nearest the gate.

Clutching the hilt of his sword beneath his robe, Kaspar sprinted toward the lower area. He needed to find the ritual site.

'I have to see what's happening at the ritual site,' he thought. 'I can find the Seventh Circle mage'.

As he ran, he kept a wary eye on the skies above. The wyverns were a constant threat, their feral roars echoing through the cavern. From a distance, he could make out silhouettes near the ritual area. 'Are they still there?' he wondered, hope and dread intertwining.

Kaspar stumbled over a protruding rock, almost losing his footing. He regained his balance and pressed on. His pulse throbbed in his ears, each beat a countdown he couldn't afford to waste. Drawing closer, the scene became easier to undestand.

The mages who had orchestrated the gate's opening stood rigid near the ritual site. Their forms were eerily still amid the chaos. It was as if they were trapped in a moment.

Two wyverns circled overhead, their predatory gazes fixed upon the stationary figures. Kaspar's eyes widened in alarm.

"Run! Get out of there!" Kaspar shouted. He waved his arms, trying to catch their attention. But as he drew nearer, a chilling realization seeped in.

He halted a short distance away, chest heaving as he stared at the mages. Their eyes were open, yet unblinking, their faces devoid of expression.

"They... they're frozen?"