Be Prompt or the World Will Be Destroyed
The ancient clock tower chimed midnight as Lyra pressed her trembling fingers against the worn leather binding of the Codex Temporalis. Each tick of the massive pendulum seemed to echo through her bones, a relentless reminder that time was slipping away like sand through an hourglass. The prophecy had been clear: when the crimson moon reached its zenith on the night of the Convergence, she would have exactly one hour to complete the Ritual of Temporal Binding. One hour to save everything that had ever existed or ever would exist.The weight of infinite worlds pressed down upon her shoulders as she opened the ancient tome. The pages, inscribed with symbols that seemed to writhe and dance in the candlelight, contained the most dangerous magic ever conceived. The Ritual of Temporal Binding was not merely a spell—it was a fundamental restructuring of reality itself, a desperate attempt to seal away the Void that threatened to consume all of existence. The magic demanded absolute precision and unwavering focus. A single mispronounced syllable, a moment's hesitation, or even the slightest deviation from the prescribed sequence would not merely result in failure—it would accelerate the very destruction she sought to prevent.
Lyra had spent the last three years preparing for this moment, studying under the tutelage of Master Aldric, the last surviving member of the Order of Temporal Guardians. The old wizard had been relentless in his training, drilling into her the critical importance of timing in temporal magic. "Magic flows like a river," he had told her countless times, his weathered hands tracing complex patterns in the air. "But time magic flows like a waterfall—powerful, unforgiving, and absolutely uncontrollable once it begins. You cannot pause, you cannot restart, and you certainly cannot afford to be late."
The crimson moon hung heavy in the sky above the tower, its unnatural light casting everything in shades of blood and shadow. Through the tall windows, Lyra could see the first signs of the Convergence beginning. Reality itself was starting to fray at the edges, with patches of absolute nothingness appearing like wounds in the fabric of existence. Trees, buildings, even the very air seemed to flicker and fade as the Void pressed closer to their dimension. In the distance, she could hear the screams of those unfortunate enough to be caught at the boundary where reality met oblivion.
The Codex Temporalis had been written by the Archmage Chronos himself, the legendary spellcaster who had first discovered the existence of the Void and developed the theoretical framework for the ritual. According to the historical records, Chronos had intended to perform it himself, but the Void had manifested earlier than predicted, catching him unprepared. His final act had been to encode the ritual into the Codex and scatter the necessary components across the world, hoping that someday another would be able to complete what he had started.
Lyra turned to the first page of the ritual sequence, her eyes scanning the intricate diagrams and arcane formulas that would guide her through the next hour. Seven distinct phases lay before her, each building upon the previous one in a carefully orchestrated crescendo of magical energy. The first phase had to begin at exactly twelve minutes past midnight. Each subsequent phase had its own precise timing, culminating in the final Sealing of the Void at fifty-seven minutes past. She would have exactly three minutes to complete the sealing before the window closed forever.
The tower's ancient mechanisms had been specifically designed to assist with the ritual's timing requirements. Gears and clockwork devices, enchanted with temporal magic, would chime at each critical moment. But Lyra knew she could not rely solely on these mechanical aids. Master Aldric had spent months teaching her to perceive the subtle fluctuations in temporal energy, to sense when the moment was precisely right for each incantation.
As the clock struck twelve minutes past midnight, Lyra began the first phase. Her voice rang out clear and strong, speaking words in the ancient tongue of the Temporal Guardians. The syllables seemed to hang in the air, creating visible ripples in the fabric of space-time. She could feel the magic responding to her call, drawing power from the convergence of past, present, and future that occurred only during the crimson moon's zenith. The air around her began to shimmer with temporal energy, and she could sense the flow of time itself becoming more malleable, more responsive to her will.
Establishing a connection with the fundamental forces of time required her to reach out with her consciousness and touch the very essence of causality. She had to feel the infinite chain of cause and effect that linked every moment throughout history. It was profoundly disorienting—like trying to hold the entire universe in her mind at once. Past, present, and future blurred together into a single, overwhelming tapestry of existence.
Through her enhanced temporal perception, Lyra could see the Void more clearly now. It was not simply an absence of matter or energy, but an absence of time itself—a region where causality broke down and existence became meaningless. The growing cancer spread through dimensional barriers, and she could see alternate versions of herself in parallel universes, some succeeding, others failing catastrophically. The sight filled her with both hope and terror.
The first phase concluded exactly on schedule. Immediately, she transitioned into the Binding of Past and Future, creating temporal anchors at specific points in history. She reached back through time, touching moments of great significance: the birth of the first star, the emergence of consciousness, the founding of the Order of Temporal Guardians. Each anchor required precise placement—even a slight miscalculation could create paradoxes that would unravel everything.
The magical energy flowing through the tower was becoming increasingly intense, and Lyra could feel the strain on her body and mind. Temporal magic was notoriously demanding, requiring perfect mental discipline while channeling forces that existed outside normal space-time. Her hands began to shake slightly as she traced the complex geometric patterns for the third phase. She forced herself to remain calm, remembering Master Aldric's teachings about emotional control.
The third phase involved synchronizing vibrational frequencies across multiple dimensions, creating a resonance pattern that would seal the breach between realities. Her mind raced through staggeringly complex equations while maintaining the magical energy flows from previous phases.
As she worked through the calculations, Lyra became aware of a subtle change in the tower's atmosphere. The air itself seemed to be thickening, becoming more resistant to movement. The Void's influence was growing stronger, affecting the local space-time continuum. The clock's ticking became irregular, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing down. She would have to rely more heavily on intuitive timing, as the mechanical aids were becoming unreliable.
Creating a buffer zone of stable causality around the ritual site meant directly confronting the chaotic forces of the Void. Lyra projected her consciousness into the boundary region where reality met nothingness, using her will to impose order on fundamental chaos. The experience was like trying to hold back an ocean with her bare hands, her mental defenses straining under the assault of pure entropy.
The Void sensed her presence and began to actively resist. Tendrils of nothingness reached toward her consciousness, trying to drag her into non-existence. She could hear whispers in languages that had never been spoken, promises of peace and release from the burden of existence. For a moment, she was tempted to let go, to allow herself to be absorbed into the comforting emptiness. But the memory of Master Aldric's sacrifice, and the knowledge of all the lives depending on her success, gave her strength to push back against the seductive pull of oblivion.
Now came the Weaving of Temporal Threads—creating a complex network of causal connections across time and space. As she reached for threads from key moments in history, one blazed brighter than the rest: the day she'd first met Master Aldric, when he'd found her crying in the ruins of her village after the temporal storm. I won't let that happen to anyone else. Each thread had to be placed with perfect precision. One mistake, and the entire structure would collapse. The mental strain was enormous, like performing surgery while juggling flaming torches.
Time itself was becoming increasingly unstable around the tower. She could see glimpses of past and future overlapping with the present, creating a confusing kaleidoscope of temporal images. In one moment, she saw the tower as it had been centuries ago, newly constructed and gleaming. In another, she saw it as a ruin, crumbling and overgrown—a monument to her failure. The visions were disorienting, but she forced herself to focus on the present moment.
The sixth phase demanded that she simultaneously consider all possible outcomes of her actions, calculating probability matrices for every potential future. It was like playing chess against an opponent who could see all possible moves simultaneously, while the board itself constantly changed. She had to think in multiple dimensions, considering not just what would happen, but what could happen, what should happen, and what must not be allowed to happen.
For a terrifying moment, she wondered if she might lose herself entirely in the infinite maze of possibilities, becoming trapped in perpetual calculation. But her training held firm, and she managed to maintain her sense of self while navigating the treacherous landscape of quantum probability.
As the ritual entered its final phase, the Sealing of the Void, Lyra could feel the weight of destiny pressing down upon her. Everything came down to the next few minutes. The sealing required her to channel all the accumulated energy and focus it into a single, precisely timed burst of temporal force. Too early, and the seal would be incomplete; too late, and the window would close forever.
The crimson moon reached its absolute zenith as Lyra began the final incantation. Words of power flowed from her lips like liquid fire, each syllable charged with the accumulated energy of the entire ritual. She could feel reality responding to her will, bending and reshaping itself according to her commands. The Void sensed what was happening and began to fight back with renewed fury, sending waves of entropy crashing against her magical defenses.
The battle between order and chaos raged around the tower, with reality itself serving as the battlefield. Lyra stood at the center of the storm, her voice never wavering as she spoke words that would either save existence or doom it to oblivion. Void tendrils reached for her throat, trying to silence her, but she pressed on, drawing strength from the faces she'd sworn to protect—Master Aldric's weathered smile, the children in the village below, even strangers she'd never meet.
With exactly thirty seconds remaining, Lyra spoke the final word of the sealing incantation. The effect was immediate and dramatic—a brilliant flash of temporal energy erupted from the tower, spreading outward in all directions at the speed of thought. The Void's advance halted abruptly, its chaotic energies suddenly contained within a prison of crystallized time. The breach between dimensions sealed itself with an audible crack, like the sound of reality healing from a grievous wound.
As the magical energies dissipated and the crimson moon began to fade back to its normal silver hue, Lyra collapsed to her knees, utterly exhausted but triumphant. She had done it. The world was saved, the Void contained, and existence itself preserved.
The experience had changed her fundamentally, giving her a deep appreciation for the delicate balance that maintained the stability of existence. She understood now why Master Aldric had been so insistent about timing, why the ancient texts spoke of punctuality as the highest virtue of the temporal mage. In a universe where a single moment's delay could mean the difference between existence and annihilation, being prompt was not merely a courtesy—it was a sacred duty.
As she closed the Codex Temporalis, Lyra made a silent vow. She would train new guardians, teaching them the vital importance of precision and timing. And she would never forget that sometimes, the fate of everything depends on being exactly where you need to be, exactly when you need to be there.
***
As she worked through the calculations, Lyra became aware of a subtle change in the tower's atmosphere. The air itself seemed to be thickening, becoming more resistant to movement. The Void's influence was growing stronger, affecting the local space-time continuum. The clock's ticking became irregular, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing down. She would have to rely more heavily on intuitive timing, as the mechanical aids were becoming unreliable.
Creating a buffer zone of stable causality around the ritual site meant directly confronting the chaotic forces of the Void. Lyra projected her consciousness into the boundary region where reality met nothingness, using her will to impose order on fundamental chaos. The experience was like trying to hold back an ocean with her bare hands, her mental defenses straining under the assault of pure entropy.
The Void sensed her presence and began to actively resist. Tendrils of nothingness reached toward her consciousness, trying to drag her into non-existence. She could hear whispers in languages that had never been spoken, promises of peace and release from the burden of existence. For a moment, she was tempted to let go, to allow herself to be absorbed into the comforting emptiness. But the memory of Master Aldric's sacrifice, and the knowledge of all the lives depending on her success, gave her strength to push back against the seductive pull of oblivion.
Now came the Weaving of Temporal Threads—creating a complex network of causal connections across time and space. As she reached for threads from key moments in history, one blazed brighter than the rest: the day she'd first met Master Aldric, when he'd found her crying in the ruins of her village after the temporal storm. I won't let that happen to anyone else. Each thread had to be placed with perfect precision. One mistake, and the entire structure would collapse. The mental strain was enormous, like performing surgery while juggling flaming torches.
Time itself was becoming increasingly unstable around the tower. She could see glimpses of past and future overlapping with the present, creating a confusing kaleidoscope of temporal images. In one moment, she saw the tower as it had been centuries ago, newly constructed and gleaming. In another, she saw it as a ruin, crumbling and overgrown—a monument to her failure. The visions were disorienting, but she forced herself to focus on the present moment.
The sixth phase demanded that she simultaneously consider all possible outcomes of her actions, calculating probability matrices for every potential future. It was like playing chess against an opponent who could see all possible moves simultaneously, while the board itself constantly changed. She had to think in multiple dimensions, considering not just what would happen, but what could happen, what should happen, and what must not be allowed to happen.
For a terrifying moment, she wondered if she might lose herself entirely in the infinite maze of possibilities, becoming trapped in perpetual calculation. But her training held firm, and she managed to maintain her sense of self while navigating the treacherous landscape of quantum probability.
As the ritual entered its final phase, the Sealing of the Void, Lyra could feel the weight of destiny pressing down upon her. Everything came down to the next few minutes. The sealing required her to channel all the accumulated energy and focus it into a single, precisely timed burst of temporal force. Too early, and the seal would be incomplete; too late, and the window would close forever.
The crimson moon reached its absolute zenith as Lyra began the final incantation. Words of power flowed from her lips like liquid fire, each syllable charged with the accumulated energy of the entire ritual. She could feel reality responding to her will, bending and reshaping itself according to her commands. The Void sensed what was happening and began to fight back with renewed fury, sending waves of entropy crashing against her magical defenses.
The battle between order and chaos raged around the tower, with reality itself serving as the battlefield. Lyra stood at the center of the storm, her voice never wavering as she spoke words that would either save existence or doom it to oblivion. Void tendrils reached for her throat, trying to silence her, but she pressed on, drawing strength from the faces she'd sworn to protect—Master Aldric's weathered smile, the children in the village below, even strangers she'd never meet.
With exactly thirty seconds remaining, Lyra spoke the final word of the sealing incantation. The effect was immediate and dramatic—a brilliant flash of temporal energy erupted from the tower, spreading outward in all directions at the speed of thought. The Void's advance halted abruptly, its chaotic energies suddenly contained within a prison of crystallized time. The breach between dimensions sealed itself with an audible crack, like the sound of reality healing from a grievous wound.
As the magical energies dissipated and the crimson moon began to fade back to its normal silver hue, Lyra collapsed to her knees, utterly exhausted but triumphant. She had done it. The world was saved, the Void contained, and existence itself preserved.
The experience had changed her fundamentally, giving her a deep appreciation for the delicate balance that maintained the stability of existence. She understood now why Master Aldric had been so insistent about timing, why the ancient texts spoke of punctuality as the highest virtue of the temporal mage. In a universe where a single moment's delay could mean the difference between existence and annihilation, being prompt was not merely a courtesy—it was a sacred duty.
As she closed the Codex Temporalis, Lyra made a silent vow. She would train new guardians, teaching them the vital importance of precision and timing. And she would never forget that sometimes, the fate of everything depends on being exactly where you need to be, exactly when you need to be there.
***
The rest of this post is Open Game Content and may be reproduced in accordance with its terms. Copyright 2025 Steve Miller.
THE TEMPORAL MAGE ("CHRONOMANCER")
THE TEMPORAL MAGE ("CHRONOMANCER")
Lyra and her Master were both Temporal Mages. The Temporal Mage is a practioner of a School of Magic that has literally stood the test of time. The spells they use have been adapted by several other schools during the ages Class-wise, they have the same level advancement rate and benefits as the regular Wizards, but have the following additional restrictions and benefits:
Spell Restrictions: Temporal Mages cannot learn spells from the Conjuration, Illusion, and Necromancy schools. Other schools are all available. The Temporal Mage does not gain any bonuses for specialization.
Spell Benefits: As the character advances in levels, he or she automatically gains a bonus spell each level. The Temporal Mage may cast the spell without any required material components, and may cast each of them a number of times per day a number of times equal to his or her Intelligence bonus. Although the character does not need to memorize the bonus spell, casting it does consume a spell slot, replacing the spell that was memorized.
Levels Bonus Spells
1st Resistance
2nd Light
3rd Featherfall
4th Comprehend Languages
5th Locate Object
6th Knock
7th Clairaudiance/Clairvoyance
8th Dispel Magic
9th Remove Curse
10th Dimensional Anchor
11th Break Enchantment
12th Sending
13th Delayed Blast Fireball
14th Legend Lore
15th Phase Door
16th Discern Location
17th Temporal Stasis
18th Time Stop
19th Foresight
20th Wish
..
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