Myra was Master of the Exit, and that didn't just mean she could commit suicide whenever she needed to. There was a similar, slightly-less-advanced technique frequently employed by professional exiters: she could just physically leave. She could walk away.

She didn't need or want Dr. Geel Hattuck to feed her the purple weirdgas and cause her to forget about Benkoten Talzatta. That would be catastrophic. So that's what she did. She left.

It was… easier than she expected. She thought Geel would put up a fight, to grab her and forcefeed her the fog if necessary. He didn't. He just watched passively as Myra took Shera by the arm and marched off. The disruption fields were still up, so they did have to physically walk, a long trek over the bridge through which Shera was a complete nervous wreck, seemingly on the edge of losing her breakfast, afraid the bridge might burst into flames at any moment. Myra considered ways of disabling it, but the whole thing was meant to be self-fixing. Oops.

"Come on, we're free of this now," she said. They'd made it to the little village with the train station. "We don't even have to worry about Benkoten anymore. We can do whatever we want! What do you wanna do?"

"I need to d-decompress."

"Hm… something fun… to decompress… We could get drunk and grab a pogo stick and go hopping down the Unkmirean bridges. That sounds fun, doesn't it?"

"Can we d-do something nonfatal?"

"Aw. Okay, fine. You're right. It would be a shame to get myself killed and miss out on half a loop Benkoten-free. Let's see… we could go back to Ralkenon. I could see all my friends and not worry about Ben finding out. Or we could go interviewing Unkmireans like Iz suggested. I'm in the mood for one of those purple fruits right now—"

"We don't have our stuff," Shera suddenly realized. "All our luggage…"

It was true. They had been in such a hurry to leave, they hadn't bothered to pick it up. They'd had it at some point, right before they saw Ben approaching, and then left it somewhere in the ensuing chaos.

"It's fine. We don't need our luggage. We don't need anything but the clothes on our backs." Hell, do we even— "We'll rough it out! It'll be an adventure. It'll be fun!" Time for the best half-loop ever!

◆

Myra called the university and went through the tedious ritual to get Iz on the phone.

"… So, yeah. It all worked out in the end. We don't have to worry about Benkoten anymore, anyway. Shera and I are gonna have some fun."

…

"Yeah, really, we're fine. I just need one thing."

…

"Really, it's nothing. It's just, I kinda left my passport at the murk bogs' compound."

…

"No, Shera's fine. She had hers on her."

…

"Yeah so if you could fetch some docs from my room, so I can get back across the border—"

◆

They could do anything, and despite all of Myra's insistence that they have fun instead, what Shera wanted to do was follow Iz's suggestion and ask around about memory magic. Of course, the task of actually asking around had to be left to Myra for obvious reasons, so she obliged because Shera was hard to say no to, although the endeavor was almost entirely fruitless and led to little more than rows of cold shoulders. It seemed that whenever she brought the subject up, otherwise friendly Unkmireans would be quick to avoid associating with her.

How can I use the time loop to extract information from these people?

There were plenty of answers to this question, but they required her to be evil.

They met up with Iz in Krinph, and she didn't waste any time—no pleasantries, no hugs—she just put an envelope into Myra's hands and then got to work displaying what she'd found. They were at a secluded bench in a park, and Iz had a lot to display. She had two samples—one she'd taken from the ground, and one she'd taken from 'the well'—both of which were smaller than they'd been before. Then there was a briefcase full of additional test tubes.

"You did both samples?" Myra asked.

"Yeah, both samples. They were exactly the same as far as we could tell. No trickery there." She turned her attention to the little test tubes. "So anyway, we took the hell-substance and pulled it into its constituents. This one," she pointed to what was by far the most conspicuous, a large test tube that glowed gold, "is pure aura. The composition was about what we'd expect, high concentration of rock, wood."

She went down the line. "Then we've got oxygen, nitrogen… you know, the usual atmosphere stuff. The most interesting one is this." It was translucent, nearly colorless, but if you looked closely, you could see a strange substance that swirled around the tube, with the strange hard-to-pin-down consistency that seemed so familiar. "This is the only chemical that seems to respond to aura, so obviously, most of our mundane chemical analyses are out, and there's probably no way to break it down any further. But we ran the aura-bounce numbers and got a match in the Snailsworth Archive."

"So what's it do?"

"You're going to want to sit down for this."

"A-all right." She sat down, but she remained perched on the edge of the seat. "Okay, I'm ready. What's it do?"

"It makes trees grow really large."

"It what?"

"It makes trees grow really large!" Iz said again. She nearly slammed the table, though she stopped shy of it. "I told you, Myra. People have been down there! They've cataloged all this shit! They know what it does! And nobody's ever found any kind of memory-wiping fog!"

"This doesn't mean anything. Plenty of magic substances do more than one thing. Just because it's in an archive doesn't mean we know everything it does."

"You're being stubborn. How would the mages have missed this?"

"Actually, that's really easy with our new theory," Myra said. "We think the effect of breathing in the fog might be to disable your domain protections. In other words, the fog on its own doesn't wipe your memory. It's easy to imagine the archivists missing an effect like that."

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"I don't agree. Do you know much about the archival process? Anything in that database is subject to a ridiculous number of tests. They wouldn't have missed this."

"Well, the tests were compromised because of the memory—Oh, wait. Shit."

"Yeah. That excuse doesn't work with your new theory, does it? If the fog isn't responsible for the memory-wiping, then that effect wouldn't have been present when they did tests in Ralkenon!"

This whole thing was giving Myra a headache. "Look, I don't know what the database says, but I watched them forget about Nesr Wald. I watched them toss his stuff off while they forgot more and more about him. And I cannot stress enough that Geel was ready to make us forget about Bentoken."

"Look, I get that," she said. "But there is something you—we, all of us—are critically missing. You made an assumption because they all smoked the fog right before they seemed to forget everything. We need to reexamine—"

"The fog has to be involved. It's the only thing that could fuck with their domains and lower their resistance to curses!"

"Well, what possibilities are left, then?"

"I don't know."

Iz took a deep breath. "Look. Here's what I suggest we do. First, we need to learn about Unkmirean culture. I guess you haven't got a chance to go around talking to Unkmireans like I suggested in my note."

"No, we got a little distracted—"

"That's fine, Myra. I was just reviewing where we're at." She took another deep breath. "But ultimately, we need to get our answers from the murk bogs. They're the only ones who know, andeveniftheyreforgettingthings—" She spoke very quickly to preempt a foreseen objection. "—they know shit they aren't telling us."

"It's too dangerous to go back there."

"I know," Iz said. "We're in a bind. Ben's getting more aggressive, and Geel responds in an unpredictable way each time, and neither way is good. I think we need to take a step back and reconsider our approach." Her voice became stern. "Myra, you had the right idea from the very beginning. You need to buy them off."

She let that sit there so the implications could sink in. Myra didn't like them.

"You need to deal with your feelings and go see your father and get his advice. He's the only one who can tell you how to work with that husk of a company you've inherited."

She tapped her finger at the envelope Myra had been ignoring in her hands for some time now. Myra, finally, looked at it.

Yastmar Kent North Halnya Chillwick Prison 12500 Garmburnil, Halnya

WARNING: Letter originates from convicted inmate

"Oh," Myra said. "I see what your game is. You want me to read whatever shitty apology he's got for me, 'deal with my feelings,' and hope he can bail us out with some magic accounting crimes."

"Yes," Iz said.

"Can't we just go do something else? There's tons of crap to investigate, and it's getting more and more doubtful that this is relevant to the time loop at all. It'd be best to cut out losses with this whole thing."

"I want to finish," Shera interjected rather forcefully.

"I'm seeing it through to the end, too," Iz said. "I told you I'm going to find the person who burned down that village, and I meant it. I know you care, too. If you want to prove you can do anything in this damned time loop, then fucking visit your goddamned dad."

Myra looked down at her letter.

"Come on," she said. "Like, let's find something else to investigate. We could go to the Ptolkeran mountains. It's a long trip, but it might be the chance we'd have to—"

"The sect is dead, and we don't know where they're based. You know what we'd need to do if we wanted to research that sect?"

"What's that?"

"We'd need to go back to the murk bogs. We could search their bodies for clues, or we could get Geel Hattuck to tell us what he knows about them."

"Eh… I dunno…"

"Myra, I did another pass through the library back in Ralkenon, and I couldn't find shit on them. I asked some university experts and got nil. Geel Hattuck might be our only lead on learning more about them. Going back to the murk bogs is the right play, and you know it."

"Okay… we could go back to Ralkenon and take another look at some of the mysteries there. Or we could go try to break into Carmac Sermanol's house again."

Iz sighed. "Yeah, we could do that. Of course, it might be harder to get Geel to talk if they don't attack in the same loop."

"I want to make progress th-this loop," Shera said. "We're invested, and… I-I want to save L-Lukai next loop." (Iz made a pained expression but didn't say anything.) "I don't want to just abandon this… Sorry."

"You're outvoted, Myra."

Well…

Maybe I could just read the letter and then decide what to do?

"And I don't think putting this off is healthy," Iz added.

At least I can stop wondering what sort of shitty apology he cooked up and start working on accepting it.

It's a good thing to do, right?

"And we're both here for you," Iz said. "We'll come with you to the prison if you want. It's up to you."

"Okay," Myra said. She took a deep breath. She was going to work on her personal problems.

"Okay?"

"Okay. I'll read the letter. No other promises."

Iz bit her lip, but she nodded.

Best to just rip this band-aid off, right?

It would probably feel good to get it over with. She tried to focus on that thought.

Let's just see what he has to say for himself.

Dearest Myrabelle,

Do you know why most high-level businessmen employ demons to negotiate all their contracts? It's not just that the demons can get them optimal contracts, ruthlessly haggled to the penny. Mostly, it's a way of covering their asses. When something goes wrong, they can put all the blame on the demon. If anyone says they were ripped off, they can point to the demon and say, 'You negotiated with a demon. You knew what you were getting into.'

I always said the practice was unethical. That's why I never employed any demons, and you see where it's landed me. If I'd hired a demon, we could have worked through all the loopholes and written all the fine-print and made everything I did technically legal. I wouldn't be in this mess. But then I also wouldn't be able to say, 'at least I never worked with demons.'

They're smearing my name in the papers, but I might be the most ethical business owner in the empire. Myrabelle, please don't listen to the papers. They may say I'm a monster, but the truth is, I'm a martyr. I know you must miss me, but when you think of me I hope you'll remember that I stood up for my principles.

— Your papa

Myra read it twice, her hands shaking. In a panic, she flipped it over, she tried to peel it apart, looking for extra sheets. That couldn't be it, that couldn't be everything she'd waited fifteen fucking months to open.

What…? What the hell is this?

Where's the—where's the apology?

Where's any mention of my emergency stash you emptied out?

Where's any of your fucking decency as a human being???

Iz was watching Myra's reaction with an increasing concern and regret on her own face. "Myra…"

"It's just a fucking… I thought it would be an apology! There's no apology, there's no 'sorry that I fucked up all our lives and left you functionally without any parents.' It's—it's like 'sorry I got caught,' but there's no 'sorry' so it's just 'I got caught.' I already knew that, you old fucker, I already knew you caught, I don't FUCKING care about your FUCKING soap box about the demons or what anybody else is doing!"

She chucked the paper into the air. Wincing, Iz caught it as it floated down and started to read it herself.

Yeah, read it! See what I'm dealing with!

Can he really not think of anything other than how moral I find him?

Nothing even changes the fact that you stole from all your clients!

Nothing changes the fact that you stole from me!

"Myra, I'm sorry, I… I thought this would be… I thought it wouldn't be that bad." She was sweating.

"I told you! I told you he's awful. He's awful! God! I was happy just imagining it was some real apology, that he cared about me and was trying to help me or that he wanted to see me, that he felt real remorse about everything, that I could try to make amends whenever I became ready."

"Myra," Iz said.

So much for blissful ignorance! So much for my beautiful consequence-free loop!

I accidentally had a consequence, didn't I?

I accidentally had a consequence and now I have to know what's in this stupid fucking letter for the rest of my life!

"Look, I'm sure when he wrote this he was… he wasn't thinking straight, but he was worried about you." For there was nothing left to say but platitudes, was there?

"Iz."

"Eh?"

"Let's settle this now."

"What?"

"We'll kill two birds with one stone!" She plucked the letter back from Isadora. "This letter can go to fucking hell!"

"Sure?" Iz looked at her blankly. Shera flinched.

"If anything, reading this stupid tone-deaf letter has destroyed the possibility of reconciliation with my father," she proclaimed, crumpling the letter into a ball. "It has to be destroyed!"

"Myra…"

She threw it over the edge. "Ignorance is bliss, as they say."

"Myra!"

Both girls tried to hold her back. She teleported out of their grasp, right to the briefcase with all the chemicals. She popped the cork off Iz's sample, both of them. "You said we can't experiment with significant memories? Well, I say otherwise! I'll show you how this fucking curse works!"

"Myra!"

She uncorked the bottles and shoved the fog into her face.

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