Chapter Text
It’s June 1st, the fifth day of summer break after his sophomore year, but this is no vacation, not for Riz.
“Fight back!” Fig screams but he doesn’t have it in him to raise a finger, let alone play soldier in the war. Adaine is dead. Dead. There’s no point in going on, not without her. “What are you doing?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he mutters to himself, slinking off the battlefield while Fig and Fabian take blows that could very well be just as fatal as Adaine’s. He doesn’t turn around to see for himself. “This isn’t the one.”
It’s June 1st—again—the fifth day of summer break.
“Are you okay, Riz?” Adaine asks. He stares at her, desperately drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. The war has worn her down, just like it has everyone, but she’s alive. Alive.
Riz smiles ever-so-slightly. “I’m good,” he says. “Why?”
“Because I have some bad news and I don’t want to, um, I don’t want to—shit. We know you’ve been struggling but I didn’t want to keep this from you. The others told me I should wait but…” Adaine sighs. “It’s Penny,” she says.
Riz’s stomach sinks. “Of course it is,” he rasps out. “It’s always someone.”
Riz stares into Penny’s eyes, lively and alert. The calendar behind her reads June 1st. Again.
“Riz?”
“You’re okay, right?” he asks, his voice shaking. “You’re okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asks, pinching her eyebrows together. “I mean, other than the war.” She laughs bitterly. “Besides that, I’m all good.”
“It’s good to see you,” Riz says, begging her for something with his eyes, though he’s not sure what.
Penny frowns. She takes Riz’s hand and leads him to a low bench, settling down by his side. “I saw you yesterday, Riz.”
Riz sighs and shakes his head. “Yesterday… Right.”
Riz lays on the pavement, stuck half under the wheels of the Hangman, unable to feel his legs. He watches Chelae’s army walk past him like he’s invisible. He might as well be, for all the help he can offer, pinned under a motorcycle that he didn’t even know could die until it was too late.
How is he going to tell Fabian?
Riz laughs suddenly to himself, the shock making him forget his pain. That’s right, he thinks, he doesn’t have to tell Fabian because today’s date is, of course, June 1st. How could he forget?
It’s June 1st.
It’s always June 1st.
Riz goes to sleep on May 31st, four days into the war, having no idea what tomorrow will bring. He goes to bed with some modicum of hope underneath all the fear. He still believes that victory is possible.
He won’t believe that for long.
“Hello, Mr. Gukgak.” Arthur Aguefort gestures to the chairs that face his desk.
Riz can’t remember how he got to Aguefort’s office but, having fallen asleep in the makeshift bunks that stuff the school gym, he supposes it isn’t so outlandish to have sleepwalked this far. He has to admit that he misses his bed at home, but the safety offered by the campus is too important to neglect for a bit of comfort. Not just important for himself and his loved ones but for the others who are relying on them for protection. The campus has become a compound and Riz is one of its guards.
Riz sits down on a chair, his feet swinging through the air as he settles in. “Hey, uh, did we have a… meeting? Or something?”
“Not that you knew of,” Aguefort explains. He snaps his fingers and the book in front of him slams shut. “But here you are. And here I am.”
“Right, uh, well… what did you need?”
“Such a helpful young man,” Aguefort says, smiling like a shark. “You see why I picked you, don’t you?”
“Picked me? For what?” Riz’s eyebrows furrow. “I feel like I missed something.”
“Hm. My daughter told me you were the cleverest of her new friends. Was she wrong?”
“I mean—” Riz cuts himself off before he can say something embarrassingly immodest. “Clever is subjective.”
“Well, I need clever. I need brave. And I need someone who is able to make hard calls. That describes you, Mr. Gukgak, doesn’t it?” Aguefort tilts his head curiously, reminding Riz so much of Ayda’s strange bird-like instincts that he almost flinches back under his intense gaze. “Doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Riz admits. “But what do you need those things for?”
Aguefort’s lips twist uncomfortably. “A quest.”
“A dangerous one?”
“For you? Not at all. In fact, I can absolutely guarantee that you survive. For others?” Aguefort sighs and shakes his head, tiredness showing on his face in a way that Riz has never seen before. Aguefort is impervious to everything, Riz knows—or thought he knew. But there’s a level of fatigue in his eyes that disturbs Riz. If Aguefort is feeling distressed, what does that mean for the rest of Elmville? “Well, the answer to that question is entirely up to you, Mr. Gukgak.”
He stands, huffing out a breath as he pushes himself out of his seat. Riz stands, too, tracking Aguefort’s movements with a careful gaze. “Sir?”
“I have something for you,” Aguefort says, turning around and unlocking the glass case behind his desk. He picks up a pocket watch off the shelves and holds it out in his palm, offering the small, golden item to Riz.
“What is it?” Riz asks.
Aguefort presses it into Riz’s hands. “Do not open it until you’re ready to move on. Do you understand?”
“No?”
“It’s currently 11:58 PM on May 31st. This watch will lock you into June 1st, midnight to midnight, until you are ready to move forward. When you decide that you’d like to see June 2nd, all you must do is flip open that pocket watch and press the big red button on its face.”
Riz gentles brushes his fingers across the smooth metal of the watch, drawing lines across the seam. “Why wouldn’t I just push it right away?”
Aguefort sighs, world-weary. “We are losing this war, Mr. Gukgak. I don’t have to remind you that people are dying left and right. Without a perfect day under our belts, the war against Chelae is already lost. But if someone is offered the opportunity to create that one, perfect day that would set us up for future success, maybe there would be hope yet.”
Riz frowns, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “You’re trapping me in a time loop?”
“No, no, goodness no. You won’t be trapped. You can leave at any time, remember?” Aguefort gestures to the watch. “It’s entirely your decision when you make the call that this day is the one, yes?”
Riz swallows, thick saliva sealing his throat. “Why me?” he asks, eyes wide and desperate. “This is… it’s so much pressure. A perfect day? How many tries is that going to take me? How—”
“Why you?” Aguefort laughs. “Because it’s certainly not going to be me!” He sits down in his desk chair with a tired harumph! and slaps his hand on the mahogany desk. “If you are not up to the task, well, then I can only hope my second choice would be capable of the same things you are. Clever, brave, and capable of making hard calls, remember? Doesn’t that describe you?”
“It does, but—”
“Ten seconds, Mr. Gukgak.” Aguefort checks his own watchface. “Are you up for the challenge or not?”
“I—”
“Six.”
Riz’s stomach sinks. He woke up all of seven minutes ago and now he’s being asked to enter an endless loop of war in order to give his side an advantage?
“Five.”
How much responsibility is Aguefort asking for him to take on? His legs shake and he tries to tell himself that it has nothing to do with his nerves and he just really has to pee.
“Four.”
He would have to find a way to perfect not just his own but Elmville’s day. Who knows how many variables that entails? How many possible failure points would he be running into during each loop?
“Three.”
“Principal Aguefort, I—”
“Two.”
If Aguefort thinks he’s the man for the job, though, who’s to say that he isn’t? He is very, very capable of making hard calls. He doesn’t relish in them but it’s a skill that he possesses and one that’s become well-practiced in his adventures.
“One.”
If this is what it takes to win this war, Riz will do it. He’ll suffer through the loops until he cracks it. He’ll make it through to June 2nd soon enough. It’s just a matter of time.
“I’ll do it.”
Principal Aguefort smiles. He sticks his hand out, an offer to Riz.
Riz sucks in a sharp breath as the grandfather clock in the corner of Aguefort’s office begins to ring, twelve slow chimes. He takes his principal’s hand and shakes it firmly.
“Good man, Mr. Gukgak. Welcome to June 1st,” he declares as the clock quiets. “Now, if you don’t mind—and I say this with all possible confidence in you—I’m getting the hell out of dodge, as the kids say. Good luck to you and good luck to Elmville, Mr. Gukgak. I look forward to our next meeting on June 2nd.”
Aguefort claps his hands together and a dimensional tear appears in the office between him and Riz, sucking in each and every piece of loose paper in the office. Riz can feel himself being sucked up and carried away so he grabs onto the edge of Aguefort’s desk with desperate hands and sinks his claws into the wood.
“Principal Aguefort?”
“Toodle-oo, Mr. Gukgak! And remember, don’t rush your decision. You have all the time in the world.”
With a final smile, the perfect mixture of exhausted and manic, Aguefort steps through the rift and it closes behind him in an instant. Riz feels his feet connect with the tile floor once more. He sucks in a breath, his chest aching from the pressure that weighs on him.
“What the fuck?” he mutters to himself, wondering if he’s still dreaming. “What the fuck?”
He looks down at the pocket watch, its golden shell remaining carefully closed, and it feels as real as anything in his hand. He clips the chain to his belt and slips the rest into his pocket. From his other pocket, he pulls out his crystal and checks the screen.
June 1st, 12:01 AM.
Riz breathes low and slow. Today will be a test, that’s all. He’ll do everything he would do if he weren’t in a time loop, just in case, and when midnight comes, he’ll see if this was all just a delusion induced by sleep-deprviation or if he really is going to relive today until he gets it right.
It won’t be easy, of course. How could the fifth day of a war be easy, after all? But it’ll be simple enough. He’ll operate like there’s no pocketwatch on his person. He’ll tell no one and do nothing to indicate that he’s trapped—
No, not trapped. Like Aguefort says, he can leave at any time. He taps the watch through his pocket with a long claw. That’s a relief, if nothing else. At any point, he can call it. He can say that he’s had enough and it’ll all be over.
It’s a surprising kindness offered by Aguefort but Riz won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
He eyes the cot tucked behind Aguefort’s desk, looking much more comfortable than the one that Riz has been holed up on for the past few nights. It’s only midnight. Riz has some time to catch a few more winks of sleep, he decides, crawling under the thick blanket. He prays for a dreamless night but, of course, there are no gods left in Elmville to answer his call.
None but Chelae, that is, and she won’t be listening to Riz anytime soon.
“Hey, mom,” Riz says, weighed down by the bags under his eyes.
His mom beckons him over to her so she can kiss his cheek. “Sweetheart. Did you sleep at all last night?”
“I had a weird dream,” he says, the lie spilling off his tongue easily because of its proximity to the truth. His conversation with Aguefort still feels like a dream but the weight of the pocket watch in his pocket is enough to make him realize that he wasn’t imagining the strange machinations of his principal. “Couldnt get back to sleep afterwards.”
“You’ve gotta rest, kid.” She passes him the rest of her cup of coffee with a sigh. “How else are you gonna heal those wounds?”
Riz rolls his shoulder in its socket, feeling the ache of the dislocation still niggling at the edges of the joint. Eight uninterrupted hours would’ve done a lot of good for the injury but so would a quick heal from Kristen, if only she could heal.
As if she can read his mind, his mom says, “Kristen would hate to see you hurting, you know.”
“Nice guilt trip, mom,” he snaps. He regrets his words immediately; this is not the time to fight with loved ones. He’s seen too many people die in the last four days to risk pulling away from the ones he cares about. “Sorry, it’s just—”
“I get it. Guilt doesn’t cure insomnia.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “But you’re right. Kristen… she’s not doing so good.”
“Yeah?”
Riz laughs humorlessly. “Would you be? Cut off from your god, unable to help your friends? Unable to help Elmville? I mean, shit. I’d be a mess.”
His mom shakes her head, her eyes drifting shut for a moment. “Poor girl. I can’t imagine. I just can’t wrap my head around why Chelae would—”
“Yeah. It’s hypocritical.”
“Isn’t it just?”
Riz has given up on trying to understand Chelae’s twisted strategy. Ever since she arrived in Elmville, monologuing about the magical and the mundane, he’s been stuck in a permanent state of fight or flight. Her plot to eradicate the mundane population of the world for the sake of those with magic is illogical at best and genocide at worse. But goddesses are powerful enough to make their dreams reality and, with her power, she’s served to endanger every last citizen of Elmville and will continue to do so until they can escape her entrapment.
“Are you on bubble patrol today?” his mom asks Riz, cutting off his runaway thoughts.
He shakes his head. He’s lucky not to be. There’s no role in the war that makes him feel more useless than walking the edges of Elmville in an endless circle, checking for any chinks in the arcane wall that Chelae has formed around the town. The barrier has cut off every possible source of help that Elmville might call for, both human and divine. The influence of other gods cannot seem to penetrate the bubble, no matter how much the Elmville clerics pray, and radio and crystal signals can’t seem to break through, either.
“I am,” she says. “Which means I won’t be back ‘til late. Will you save me a bowl of dinner?” His mom stands, tucking her chair under the cafeteria table. She scoops up her empty dish, the remnants of some sort of oatmeal crusted against the sides of the bowl and gestures to the kitchen. “Want me to grab you a bowl on my way out?”
Riz shakes his head. “I’m not hungry. Thanks, though.”
His mom narrows her eyes. “Eat something, sweetheart. For me?”
Riz swallows down his nausea, something he’s been struggling with since Chelae’s arrival. “Sure,” he lies. “I will in a few minutes. Just gimme a second to enjoy the coffee.” ‘Enjoy’ is a strong word, of course, considering the quality of the swill that sits in the cafeteria urns. But it’s certainly helping to settle his swirling stomach so Riz drinks it greedily.
“You better,” his mom warns him. “Be safe today, Riz. Got it?” She nails him with a dangerous stare, something he’s never learned to shrug off in his fifteen years. He’ll never fail to shrink under the weight of it.
“As long as you stay safe, too,” he retorts, aiming for a joke and landing somewhere closer to earnest desperation. The stakes are higher for him and his mom than they would be for someone like Adaine or Kristen. Chelae is targeting them, along with anyone else who lacks magic in their blood. It’s not that those with magic are impervious to damage, especially not in the chaotic battlegrounds that crop up in every corner of Elmville, but weapons are not aiming at them.
His mom, though, that’s another layer of concern that weighs on Riz. He chews on the inside of his cheek as she waves goodbye to him. He hates to even think about it but he worries about her ability to stay alive in the field. He doesn’t claim to be an expert himself but he has two full years of adventuring academy experience under his belt. His mom has nothing but her police training. He shakes his head, attempting to dislodge the errant thought. She can take care of herself.
And if she can’t, well…
Well, it’s a good thing he has a secret weapon in his pocket. A perfect day, Aguefort said. If something happens to his mom, all he has to do is keep his finger off the button and he’ll have another chance to fix it. He thinks, anyway. Testing that theory before doing anything stupid still seems like a prudent idea to Riz and he intends to play things as safe as he can today just in case Aguefort’s quest was less of a guarantee and more of the ravings of a lunatic.
“The Ball, get moving!” Fabian’s voice carries across the cafeteria and Riz jolts to attention. “You’re with me today. Didn’t you see the bulletin?”
“I, uh, I guess not.” How had he forgotten to check the captain’s daily assignments? He supposes he’s had a strange start to his day but still. There’s a war, Gukgak. Get your head in the game, he tells himself. “What are we on?”
“Campus defense. On the wall.”
“Oh, good,” Riz breathes a sigh of relief. Nothing better than getting some of his impotent frustration and fears out with a few well placed bullets against the waves of creatures that Chelae sends their way. “Who else?”
“Adaine and Fig join us in the afternoon. I think Kristen’s got all day kitchen shifts and Gorgug traded his shift so he could keep her company.” Fabian shrugs, his eye flashing with guilt and pain. “She—”
“Yeah,” Riz says. He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse to think about how much Kristen’s struggling. On one hand, she’s his friend and she’s going through a crisis. He should be there to support her. On the other hand, there’s truly nothing Riz can do for her. He can’t restore her ability to heal or revive people. He can’t find a way to reconnect her with Cassandra.
And he can’t bring back her brother.
“It’s good of him,” Fabian says. “Gorgug, I mean.”
“Uh-huh,” Riz says. Guilt swells through his bloodstream. He knows he’s avoiding Kristen because he doesn’t know how to help her through her grief, but he can’t help it. At least Gorgug isn’t a coward like him. At least she has one friend by her side. “Come on. We’re gonna be late.”
“Your fault, not mine, The Ball.”
Riz picks up his pace, rushing for the doors of the school. “No one will believe you if you tell them that, though,” he calls out over his shoulder. “Riz Gukgak, chronic early bird?” He tries to laugh but the peal rings hollow. “Try it and see what happens.”
Fabian catches up quickly, rolling his eye as he breaks into a slow jog. “I’m glad we’ve got killing duty today. You clearly need to get your energy out, you menace.”
Riz swallows, his stomach souring. Killing duty isn’t a lie or even an exaggeration but it’s hard to hear nonetheless. When did he go from writing essays on the weekends to brutally murdering endless swarms of godly creations?
And when will he go back?
An uneventful shift on the wall is all Riz could ever ask for. Sure, his shoulder is worse for wear by the end of it but, like his mom said, a good night’s rest will fix him right up. Sure, he’s got dried blood crusting in his eyebrow hairs from a head wound that bled a surprising amount, but that’s nothing new. And sure, Fabian isn’t currently speaking to him, but Riz knows he’ll be forgiven by tomorrow morning at the latest. Tensions are running high, that’s all. They’re both hot-headed—and hard-headed, too—so they’re bound to clash every once in a while.
He trudges back to the campus, flanked by Adaine and Fig, in the heavy moonlight, desperate to take a shower in the locker rooms and fall into a deep sleep. Dinner? That’s a tomorrow issue for him to deal with. Riz can survive a day without food. He’s done it before and, if nothing else, it leaves more rations for the others. He knows he shouldn’t get into the habit of skipping meals but, every once in a while, what’s the harm?
“Sorry, Fabian,” Riz offers one more time as he steps out of the showers, wrapped in a towel. Fabian mirrors his movements, crossing to their lockers, side-by-side and labeled with their initials. “I should’ve let you get that kill.”
“It’s not about the killing blow, dumbass,” Fabian says, more tired than rude. “It’s about not throwing yourself into the melee for some ill-advised hero moment. I had it covered, The Ball. Keep yourself in the shadows.”
He could’ve. He could’ve spent the entire fight battling against Chelae’s Unseen Soldiers from the backlines, invisible and out of reach. But if he had, Fabian would’ve taken a hit that he didn’t need to. “I was trying to help.”
“You know what doesn’t help? Making me watch you get bashed across the head with a mace.” Fabian shakes his head, sucking in a sharp breath. “That doesn’t help one bit, man.”
“It was that or—”
“I can take a hit, The Ball.”
Riz freezes. “You shouldn’t have to.”
“Neither should you.” Fabian locks Riz into a staring contest, eye narrow and tight. He tries to impart something on him that Riz can’t decode. It’s too much. Too intense, too painful, too raw. Riz has to look away.
“Well, we’re both fine so what’s the big deal?” Riz says, dismissing the tension as best as he can. “Next time, I won’t pop out unless I absolutely have to.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“Well,” Fabian shifts his weight from foot to foot, “glad we got that figured out.”
Riz offers a short laugh. “Good talk, man. Same time tomorrow?”
Fabian snorts. “Yeah, let’s plan to get in a fight this time tomorrow,” he suggests sarcastically. “I’ll put it in my calendar.”
Riz grins, shaking his head as he gets dressed in his sleep clothes, an old Elmville PD Fun Run t-shirt and a pair of red and green flannel pajama pants. Riz is grateful for the pocket in the pants so he can slip the pocketwatch inside as subtly as possible. He’s not ready to start a conversation about it yet, not until he’s sure it works.
And even then… How will he tell people about the time loop and who will he tell? He presses his lips together. Another problem for the Riz who wakes up tomorrow to deal with. For now, he lets the questions percolate in his head.
Fabian stretches a bonnet over his hair and slips on his maroon, silk pajamas. He and Riz slam their lockers shut in unison, heading for the bunks. It’s a comfortably quiet walk, both too tired for any idle conversation. By the time they get to the gym, it’s already past lights-out so they whisper their goodnights and crawl into uncomfortable cots next to one another.
Riz is asleep in an instant. The suffocating creep of guilt that crawls up his throat is not quite fast enough to overwhelm his nervous system before the fatigue wins out. He tumbles into dreams of perfect days, sitting by the river under the sun with his friends by his side, not a cloud in the sky.
Riz awakes in Aguefort’s office, his plush cot supporting Riz’s endlessly sore muscles.
“Holy shit,” he mutters to himself, turning on his crystal. The screen reads, plain and simple, June 1st. “It’s really a loop.”
A slow grin blooms on Riz’s face. He feels the power of potential at his fingertips. He gets to relive this day over and over again until it’s perfect. That sort of advantage in a war, it’s unbeatable. Because of Aguefort’s boon, Riz has the fate of Elmville in his hands and he knows that he can make Aguefort proud. Sure, it might take a few loops of trial and error but that’s alright with Riz.
After all, he has all the time in the world.