How Much Time Passes In Arcane Novels & Stories

Zach asked, carefully looking at me. “Yes.” I nodded. Marcelene getting some of her Arion powers was too soon to happen. It was too quick. After the night of the blood moon, it would have normally taken at least six weeks for the Arion power to start setting in. But I watched her have a nightmare the other day.

“It preserved our lives…” Her expression darkened. “…but not our time.” Amara frowned. “I don’t understand.” “The kingdom exists outside the flow of the world.” Kael blinked. “So…” He counted on his fingers. “You’ve been here for a thousand years…” “…but not really?” Seraphine nodded. “Time moves differently beneath the mountain.” “For us…” She looked toward the distant throne room. “…it has only been thirty-two years.” Silence. Dante let out a low whistle.

"Time to make up for?" "Twenty-three years," Alaric's voice came from the doorway. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, looking devastatingly handsome in dark jeans and a fitted shirt. "Twenty-three years of waiting for our mate. Of being incomplete. You think a few hours is going to be enough?" "I...." Elara didn't know what to say to that.

I knew how to find her. “Now it's time for you to pay up. You owe me two weeks.” “The deal was a day for every hour spent,” I reminded, though I’d expected this. Warlocks were deceitful in nature. “Yes. And it’s been fourteen hours now.” I looked outside the cave, only to realize the day was gone, and the bright sun was now replaced by the pale moon. Magnux took out a dustcovered goblet and also a jeweled dagger. “Where would you like me to make the cut?”

Her fingers slipped under his shirt, tracing the firm lines of his chest… … After Homer, Landon, and Aria finished their breakfast the next morning, they piled into a car headed for Mount Southbore. Autumn came early to these mountains. Frost-tinged winds swept through endless stretches of crimson maples, painting the rolling peaks like a canvas splashed with rich, bold colors. The mountain road wound upward like a ribbon, its end lost somewhere in the misty green depths above. That was where the Conclave of the Arcane would be held. A black Bentley rolled to a smooth stop in a wide plaza. The door swung open, and out stepped Homer in arcane robes. His eyes were bright as stars, and his long

He fell to the ground, heavily injured. “Y-You...” Gaius was covered in blood as he looked at Andrius with fear. “You’re at the Arcane Immortal stage...” Back then, when Andrius burned his immortal blood to reach the Arcane Immortal stage for a short time, his true strength had only been at the early Heavenly Immortal stage. How long ago was that? It was just five years. It was a blink of an eye for immortals, but Andrius managed to reach that level. It was simply horrifying.

Jacob nodded. With three bags of mana stones on hand, Jacob calculated that it would be sufficient to sustain the Arcane archers for at least a month, even if they were engaged in battle every day. However, when factoring in the expenses of the Arcane Tower, the supply would last approximately 20 days. Although the lord's request had been for at least 10 bags, Jacob deemed the acquisition of three bags satisfactory given the circumstances. The merchant's workers and the servants collaborated to transport the crates from the caravan.

I looked toward her immediately. “So how does it work now?” The Queen smiled softly. “Each day spent within the sanctuary,” she said carefully, “will equal one hour outside.” The room stilled. Pamela blinked first. “…That is still absolutely insane.” Marcus looked deeply offended on behalf of reality itself. “One day equals an hour?” Queen Genovive nodded. “It will allow you time,” she explained calmly. “Time to prepare. Time to heal. Time to welcome the children safely.” My breath caught slightly.

Bliss "Seven days." Aria's voice was flat. "The ritual window opens in seven days and lasts for approximately six hours. If he completes it during that window, the worlds merge. If he fails, he has to wait another nineteen years." Seven days. One week to figure out how to stop an immortal zealot from rewriting reality. "What does the ritual require?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay steady.

He paused. "Sera, what you did today with a contained sample - Caius's curse is the same class of magic. But larger. Older. More deeply embedded. But the same." The same. "How long?" I asked. Aldric was quiet for a moment. "If you develop at this rate?" he said carefully. "Six weeks. Perhaps eight in the farthest. Before you would be ready to attempt contact with the actual curse." Six weeks. I nodded. Caius had been dying for three years. Six weeks was nothing. Six weeks was everything.