The teal aura was heavy in the air. I was alone. So many faces, of so many dead. All empty. Empty of themselves, and empty of anyone else. It was better. Better than living on with a passenger who pushed them away from themselves. Any passenger at all, kind or cruel. It was better to be empty, cold, and dead. Margaret realized that, at the end. I didn't know what I expected her to do or how I expected it to end. But this was... as much as I could have hoped for. I couldn't banish the image of her fighting with her father, trying to win her mother's life from him. I didn't understand exactly what had happened.

Had she been fighting his ghost or... I couldn't entertain the other possibility. The impossibility. That my magic had given her a chance to... It was all I wanted. The idea that one of my spells could reach that far back and give someone a chance like that. That's what I wanted to believe. That's what I ached for. The idea was a seed I'd always kept hidden, in a cage in my heart I could never share with anyone. Margaret watered it with her sacrifice. And I had to smother it before it sidetracked me too much. It didn't line up anyway.

She was there, only a few paces from me. On her knees, with her hands on her face. Dead. Empty. The corpses she had brought here surrounded me. Everything she had done for her father, she had still done. And I didn't have the power to change the past like that. To give anyone the chance to change the past like that. No matter how the desire burned through my veins, it was out of reach. Still. Even if only in her own mind, I had seen Margaret make a different choice. That alone sparked a little fire, barely a candle's worth. A fire I could hold, and protect, and cherish. And I would.

My body was exhausted. My mind more so. But the warmth of that candle let me climb to my feet. The aura all around me flared when I did, like a wave on a windy day. It brightened with my every movement, like an excitable child. It was waiting for me. Inviting me. I took a step forward and all around me, its energy increased like a cat in tall grass. I reached out tentatively and a few sparks tickled my fingertips. It seemed so familiar. I didn't understand. It was the magic Margaret had used for such ugliness. But it was also the magic that helped her stop it. And it was the magic that always felt like an embrace.

I decided to accept it and, without so much as a twitch from me, the aura flooded into me. It was too much. It burned like boiling water and ripped at me like years of grief. Tears ran down my face but I smiled. I felt like I had found my sister. It wasn't the pain of fear or uncertainty. It wasn't the weight of guilt. It was more like the pain I had been looking for. The pain of finding Camilla. She wasn't there. I knew she wasn't. But I still felt like I had found her. Like I could apologize to her somehow. To redeem myself. The water on my cheeks was hot.

Then the familiar warmth came. The warmth and the sweet air. That feeling I got whenever I changed something in a loop and collected even a little of this aura. Like coming home. Somehow, the sun was bright in the sky. The light kissed my skin and the chittering of birds sang around me. The bodies were gone. The death was gone. The guilt was blessedly gone. I looked around and saw nothing but colorful flowers, wearing a vibrance no mundane petals could contain. Vines rich with fruit climbed crumbling stone walls around me. I couldn't quite describe it. I was just somewhere... kind.

And before me stood my sister. Camilla's brilliant red hair was the fire of the sun in the sky. She wrapped her arms around me in an embrace I had forgotten. And embrace that carried me, and cut into my chest. "Oh Mars," she whispered, her gentle voice singing a dirge in my ear, "Of course I forgive you." The words shone through me sunlight through rain. She wasn't there. She wasn't actually saying anything to me. But... 'Of course I forgive you'. I collapsed into sobs. Deep, desperate breaths choked me. My chest heaved to contain them, not to the air but the words. 'Of course I forgive you' I wanted them to be real so badly.

'And you are here to testify to her guilt in these charges, is that correct?'.

'Y-yes'.

A smile, and an escape.

'Of course I forgive you'.

I knew it wasn't real. I knew it would never be real. But the magic, it gave me just a taste. A taste of the words I had given up on ever hearing, in a voice I didn't know if I would ever find again. I was on my knees again, crying aloud. I fell forward onto my arms and wept into the mud. I didn't notice when the scene evaporated around me. I didn't notice anything at all. I didn't know if it was the same magic that had allowed Margaret to face her father, or if Margaret herself had left it for me. But even in the cold of the night, in the dirt, surrounded by the dead, it wrapped around me and made me feel truly safe for the first time since my sister left.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

End of Day 1

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Day 1

I woke up in the inn. I didn't remember dying, and I hadn't lived through the last two days of the loop. But I was unmistakably back. My hair ribbon rested where it always did on the first morning. But... the air was different. It felt like the same day, but fresh at the same time. Like a slightly changed recipe. I looked around the room blearily. The last thing I remembered, I was outside Harrison's home with Margaret's corpse.

I climbed easily out of bed and tied my hair up into its usual topknot. I didn't understand the loop spell, despite my own magic being clearly involved. Even so, this didn't seem right. It had ended too early. Satisfied with my hair, I quickly descended the stairs only to find the tavern with far fewer occupants than I expected. There were plenty of people, yes, but several tables I expected to be full were empty. Most notably, Livia was missing.

"Where is Livia?" I asked as I approached Marcus at the bar. He looked at me curiously, then shrugged.

"She's never here in the mornings anymore," he replied. "Always has one of her meetings or something like that." I looked at him with complete bafflement.

"How many days have I been here, do you know?" I asked. He blinked.

"Um, you just checked in last night, didn't you? Are you feeling alright?" The answer was no. This wasn't right. "She uh, she leaves muffins, for her guests. If breakfast is what you are worried about. All yours as far as I can tell. Not many visitors want to be around with the Quiet here." He pointed to a tray with a glass lid, covering roughly eight blueberry muffins. Those had never been there before either.

"What kind of meeting?" I asked. Marcus shrugged again.

"I never did understand that bit myself. You can ask her tonight if you are interested. Or if uh, she's the one you're interested in. Either way." he guessed. I ignored him. Instead, I moved to the display, lifted the glass, and started moving the muffins into my bag. "Hungry, are you?" he laughed.

"Not particularly," I answered. "I prefer fresh fruit to baked goods in any case. Thank you, though." I felt strange. Confident, if only a little, like I hadn't since my childhood.

"I'd say you're an odd one but, well. I suppose everyone is entitled to a bit of absurdity, in times like these." I gave him a half smile, before rushing out the door. I needed to investigate the changes, but the first thing would always be the first thing. I needed to see the girls. I walked through the market and discovered it was much like the tavern. It reminded me most of the first loop, before the Quieted started to return. But like Livia's Inn, there were fewer people present than I expected.

"Becky, come on, you know Paci can't run as fast as you! Let's play a game everyone likes" a little brunette boy chided a young redhead as I passed. The children still played in the market as in every loop. But... the dark and lonely corners lacked their occupants. Their grievers. The silent misery remained, but many people were more cheerful than I would expect. I wanted to be relieved. I wanted to feel like I had effected some sort of truly positive change on the loop. But I knew me, and I knew the loop. It felt wrong somehow. Like wax fruit.

I shook my head and continued my walk. I could investigate once the girls were fed. This feeling stalked me through the city, however. It followed me like the eyes of a leering drunk, leaving me uncomfortable and nervous. None of this, however, prepared me for what I would find just before my destination. That is the graveyard. Previously so perfectly tended, had fallen into disrepair and neglect. It shook my heart like tragedy. I had to stop and stare. The grave the boy had been digging behind had been left alone, and not just by him. I couldn't even read the name, Melody, as moss grew over it.

I couldn't help myself. I needed to know. Margaret would never let this happen. So I trespassed into the rest of the dead. I approached the headstone and peeked behind it. There were no signs of digging. In fact, the overlong grass revealed it had been untouched for a long time. Finally, I knelt in front of it and looked at the moss. It wasn't right. I wanted to recoil at the sight. I couldn't allow it.

I grabbed my sleeve with my left hand and began to rub the moss away, to reveal Melody's name underneath. I feel a sort of satisfaction as the 'M' reveals itself. Someone will visit your grave, Melody. You aren't alone. Even here. The problem revealed itself as I cleaned the following letter. 'A'. My heart stopped cold and ice ran down my spine. I cleaned another. 'R'. It wasn't right. It couldn't be right. I abandoned care and wiped the rest of the name in a single move. 'Margaret'. I fell backward and gaped at the grave of the woman I had grown to hate, fear, and understand.

What had I done?

End of Volume 1

These cycles don't start in our blood,

So cruel, and quiet, and sick,

No weapons don't start in our hands,

So sharp, and brutal, and quick,

They rest in the clothes on our backs,

In the care, and the love, and the kindness,

They hide in the food on our tables,

And they feed on our worship and blindness,

So be careful of who you look up to,

Be wary of what you sleep beneath,

Lest the cloaks of our mothers are burning,

or the masks of our fathers have teeth.