Silence settled over the room.
I sat against the side of my bed, staring at my hands.
One problem at a time.
That was probably the only way I was going to survive this without throwing myself out the window.
Sleazy broke the silence first.
"So what's the plan now, Seer?"
I looked up at him and let out a tired sigh.
"Number one?"
I raised a finger.
"Sleep."
He waited.
"And second?"
"We beat the Combat entrance trial and get me into the Combat Department."
Bloody grinned.
"Finally."
"Don't sound so excited."
"I have been forced to watch you attend Studies classes."
"I liked Studies."
"You studied magical agriculture."
"It was an elective."
"It was pathetic."
"Can we focus?"
Knight cleared his throat.
Bloody clicked his tongue but shut up.
I bit at the edge of my nail.
"Getting into Combat isn't actually the difficult part."
Knight's expression shifted.
He already knew where I was going.
"We need Vanguard."
Sleazy tilted his head.
"Vanguard?"
"The highest first-year cohort," Knight explained. "The students judged most likely to excel as future Pathfinders."
"More importantly," I added, "that's where the constants are."
Sleazy looked between us.
"The constants?"
I leaned my head back against the bed.
"People whose importance stays relatively stable across the different lives I have access to through Soul Diver. Events change. People die earlier, later, sometimes not at all."
I paused.
"But there are certain people who keep appearing around the major turning points."
"The hero," Knight said.
"His companions. A few others."
People whose decisions would eventually determine whether entire cities survived.
People who would become legends, monsters, corpses—
Sometimes all three.
And during their first year at Valthrune, an uncomfortable number of them had been gathered in the same place.
Vanguard.
The Combat Department's best first-year cohort.
Before my regression, I'd heard stories about that class.
Their victories.
Their disasters.
The absurd number of historical figures who had somehow walked out of a single classroom.
Back then, it sounded impressive.
Now it terrified me.
Because between my own memories and the fragments Soul Diver had given me, I knew enough to understand just how much of the future began there.
"Vanguard is where things start taking shape," I said.
Lazy folded his arms.
"And presumably where you intend to interfere."
"Exactly."
My eyes briefly met his.
The anger from last night hadn't disappeared.
Neither had the fact that his plan had saved my life.
I wasn't ready to unpack either of those things.
So I looked away.
I didn't need Soul Diver to tell me everything.
Last night had made it painfully clear that it couldn't.
But there were some people whose importance appeared often enough that ignoring them would be idiotic.
Get close to them early.
Figure out what went wrong.
Change what I could before those mistakes became disasters.
Simple.
Simple in the same way impersonating the chosen Apostle of an evil god was simple.
There was only one annoying little problem.
"Carlos was supposed to be there."
The room quieted.
Knight's expression changed.
He was the reason I knew that part with any certainty.
In his life, he'd actually attended Vanguard.
So had Carlos.
"He was accepted alongside me," Knight said quietly. "Not immediately, if I remember correctly. But he eventually earned his place."
I nodded.
Carlos had become close to several of the students who would later shape the world.
Close enough that his eventual fall mattered far beyond himself.
But Carlos wasn't here anymore.
Because of me.
The place he should have occupied was empty.
And apparently, I had developed a habit of inheriting things from dead people.
His gifts.
His title.
And now—
his place among the people who mattered.
I rubbed my face.
"So I need to take his position."
Knight frowned.
"Not his position."
I glanced at him.
"You cannot replace Carlos, young man."
That landed harder than I expected.
Knight continued.
"But you can ensure his absence does not create another disaster."
I stared at him for a moment.
Then nodded.
"Right."
That was better.
I wasn't going to become Carlos.
I couldn't.
I needed to get into Vanguard, get close to the constants, and change things my own way.
Preferably without collecting any more dead people's titles along the way.
My standards had become remarkably low.
Knight gave a satisfied hum.
"Vanguard..."
His expression softened.
"I remember when I was accepted. My parents were ecstatic."
I looked toward him.
"My father attempted to pretend otherwise, naturally. Lasted perhaps three minutes."
I blinked.
Then something incredibly obvious occurred to me.
"Oh."
Knight raised an eyebrow.
I scratched the back of my head.
"I genuinely forgot that most of us have the same parents."
Silence.
I winced.
My eyes drifted toward Sleazy.
"Well... except you."
That came out horribly.
"Sorry."
Sleazy waved a hand.
"No need. I never particularly cared for my birth parents."
There was something flat beneath the words.
Only for a second.
Then his usual smile returned.
"Besides, we're drifting."
He leaned forward.
"So that's the entire master plan?"
I hummed.
"Sleep. Survive the Combat trial. Perform well enough to force my way into Vanguard. Infiltrate the future hero's social circle. Maintain my secret identity as the Fifth Apostle. Figure out how to exploit having a Manus Fati executive under my thumb without getting exposed."
I counted each problem on my fingers.
"And eventually prevent the apocalypse."
I looked up.
"Did you want me to add something?"
Sleazy tapped his chin.
"Breakfast."
I paused.
"...Okay. Breakfast first."
Warm rays of morning light fell across my face.
"Yaaahhh..."
I stretched, yawned, and instinctively reached toward the bedside table for my glasses.
My hand found nothing.
I patted around once.
Twice.
Then remembered.
Right.
I didn't need glasses anymore.
Ever since awakening, my eyesight had been better than ever.
Also, I'd lost the damn things during the whole griffin flying through the sky while trying to murder me escapade.
I grumbled something unpleasant about griffins and rolled out of bed.
Then another realization hit me.
I had slept peacefully.
I stopped.
That was new.
Since my regression, every attempt at sleep had come with some new form of misery. Memory-dreams from lives that weren't mine. Sleeping on a giant tree beside the guy destined to start the apocalypse. Getting my chest caved in by a three-hundred-year-old spider-flesh woman.
Last night?
Nothing.
No nightmares.
No memories.
No attempted murder.
Just sleep.
Actual, uninterrupted sleep.
A shiver ran through me.
"...That's a bad sign."
Me?
Getting a good night's sleep?
Impossible.
The universe was planning something.
I knew it.
Still suspicious of my newfound rest, I dragged myself into the washroom.
Then I looked into the mirror.
And froze.
"What the fu—"
The person staring back at me wasn't me.
Well.
It was me.
Obviously.
But something was very different.
My eyes had turned silver. That much I expected.
My hair, however...
"What the hell?"
I leaned closer.
My black hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, except it wasn't entirely black anymore.
Silver strands ran through it.
A lot of silver strands.
Several sections had changed completely, streaking unevenly through the black.
I turned my head left.
Then right.
My expression soured.
I looked like a skunk.
A magical, traumatized skunk.
I was not a skunk.
"Hey!"
I turned toward the bedroom.
"Do you guys see this?!"
For several seconds, nobody answered.
Then Bloody appeared behind me in the mirror.
He stared at my hair.
I stared at him.
His eyes narrowed.
"...Disgusting."
I spun around.
"What?!"
"You somehow look even more pathetic."
"That's not an answer!"
"It was the only one worth giving."
"Fuck you."
Bloody grinned.
The others began appearing around the washroom.
Knight stepped through the doorway with a concerned frown. Sleazy leaned halfway through the wall because apparently entering normally was beneath him, while Lazy floated above the bathtub with his arms folded.
All four stared at me.
More specifically—
at my hair.
I suddenly became considerably less amused.
"Okay. Why is everyone looking at me like that?"
Sleazy raised a finger.
"Would you prefer that we lie?"
"Yes."
"You look wonderful."
"Thank you."
"Like an elderly skunk."
"Fuck you too."
Knight sighed.
"Enough. Turn around, young man."
"What am I, a horse?"
"Kamrik."
"Fine."
I turned.
Knight inspected the back of my head while I continued staring into the mirror.
The silver wasn't subtle.
Individual strands ran through the black almost randomly, but several had gathered into thick streaks.
I separated one between my fingers.
Completely silver.
Not grey.
Not faded.
Silver.
Almost the same shade as my eyes.
Knight frowned.
"Was this present yesterday?"
"No."
"It definitely wasn't," Sleazy added.
I glanced at him.
"You sure?"
"My maternal figure spent a concerning amount of time rearranging your face while beating you into a wall."
He shrugged.
"I had plenty of opportunities to look."
Right.
Wonderful reminder.
I turned toward Lazy.
He hadn't joked.
Hadn't moved.
He was staring.
That was rarely reassuring.
"...Lazy?"
Nothing.
"Lazy."
"Hm?"
"What is it?"
He floated closer and reached toward my hair.
His fingers passed straight through it.
Of course.
Lazy frowned.
"I don't know."
Silence.
I stared at him.
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"I mean exactly that."
"No, no. You don't get to say that."
His eyebrow lifted.
"Why?"
"Because you're the one who explains weird shit!"
"An unfortunately demanding job description."
"Lazy."
He sighed.
"I don't know, Kamrik."
That shut me up.
His eyes moved over the silver again.
"Your eyes changed immediately after awakening. Physical alterations caused by awakening aren't unheard of."
I pointed at my head.
"And this?"
"Appeared overnight."
"Yes. I noticed."
"After awakening."
"Also noticed."
"After consuming the gifts."
"Unfortunately."
His gaze sharpened.
"There are too many possible causes and not enough information to distinguish between them."
I looked at myself again.
"So your professional diagnosis is..."
"I don't know."
"Fantastic."
Another mystery.
Exactly what I needed.
Then I glanced toward the clock.
And froze.
"Oh, shit."
Knight frowned.
"What?"
"I have somewhere to be."
I hurried back into the bedroom.
The others followed.
Well, followed was generous. Bloody walked through the wall, Sleazy floated after me, and Lazy simply appeared on the other side of the room before I reached it.
Cheaters.
My academy uniform sat neatly folded over the chair.
For a moment, I stared at it.
Yesterday I'd been a Studies student.
Today I was expected to walk into Combat and convince everyone I belonged there.
Wonderful.
I pulled off my sleeping shirt and started getting dressed.
Sleazy leaned against the wall.
"So we're ignoring the hair?"
"Yes."
"The mysterious overnight transformation?"
"Yes."
"The fact that nobody knows why it happened?"
I shoved an arm through my sleeve.
"Yes."
He nodded solemnly.
"Healthy."
"I have a Combat assessment in considerably less time than I'd like."
Knight looked me over.
"You should eat first."
"I'll eat on the way."
"That is not what I meant."
"It's what you're getting."
I tied my hair back again.
The silver became even more obvious.
Great.
I tried rearranging it.
Worse.
Again.
Somehow worse.
Bloody watched with growing amusement.
"Stop."
"I have said nothing."
"Your face is saying plenty."
Eventually, I gave up.
Black hair.
Silver streaks.
Silver eyes.
Sure.
Why not?
At this point, looking slightly strange was probably the least suspicious thing about me.
I slipped on my shoes and headed toward the door.
"Alright."
My hand rested on the handle.
"Combat Department."
My stomach tightened.
Reach the end.
Get accepted into Combat.
Perform well enough to make Vanguard.
Two different standards.
Fail the first, and my future involved imprisonment or compulsory service in the Church military.
Pass the first but fail the second, and I lost my best chance to get close to the people who mattered.
Easy.
Absolutely nothing could go wrong.
I opened the door.
Someone was standing directly outside.
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"Fuck!"
The academy staff member blinked at me.
Behind him stood the same two Support escorts from last night, both looking perfectly healthy and completely unaware that a cult executive had temporarily shut off their sensory processing.
The man glanced down at his clipboard.
"Kamrik?"
I slowly lowered the hand I'd thrown over my chest.
"...Yes?"
"I'm here to collect you."
I stared at him.
He stared back.
"For the Combat entrance assessment," he clarified.
"Oh."
Right.
That sounded significantly less threatening.
I stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind me.
"Lead the way."
And just like that, my trial awaited.