“Akari!” Someone shook her shoulder, and she snapped her eyes open. Sweat covered her body, and her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. Her mana arts were gone. Her memories were gone. And—

  But no . . . she felt the power in her channels, as fast as her beating heart. She felt the memories too, from Last Haven to Creta.

  Akari lifted her wrist and glanced at her mana watch.

  73/73.

  Silver. Exactly where she’d been before she fell asleep.

  Still, she had to be sure. Akari gathered mana in her opposite palm and thrust a Missile across the room. She’d meant to form a Construct next, but the speed of her cycling sent the mana straight through the wall. A cloud of dust erupted from a fist-sized hole.

  “Hey.” Someone touched her shoulder again, and Akari flinched away.

  “It’s me,” he repeated. “It’s Kalden. You’re safe.”

  Akari let out a breath, pivoting her head to meet his eyes. They were back in the hotel room now. She lay in the bed, and Kalden sat beside her. He must have carried her back when she passed out.

  Her eyes burned as she stared back at the hole she’d made. Talek. How crazy did she look right now?

  “S-sorry.” Her voice broke, and she barely recognized the sound. A dozen different emotions fought for dominance inside her. First, she felt indescribable relief, as if she’d been buried alive and someone had just pulled her out. That Mystic’s technique had been so powerful, she’d been sure it would affect her in the present day. She thought she’d lost her powers and her friends. She thought she’d have to go back to living as a Bronze on Arkala.

  “It’s okay.” Kalden reached out and touched the back of her hand. He moved slowly as if he expected her to flinch away or attack him. Hard to blame him for that.

  Their fingers intertwined a heartbeat later, and tears flowed down her cheeks as she squeezed his hand.

  “It’s not.” Akari removed her glasses and rubbed at her eyes. “It’s not okay.”

  “You had another dream,” Kalden said. “What happened?”

  How could she put it into words? Then again, she couldn’t keep it bottled up, either. She’d tried that before, and it felt like being caught in an infinite loop. Besides, Last Haven had been Kalden’s home, too. He deserved to know the truth.

  He wouldn’t be holding her hand right now if he knew.

  “Do you remember our last fight?”

  He paused. “I don’t—”

  “A team match.” She struggled to form words past her ragged breaths. Her hands shook despite the room’s heat, and her teeth chattered. “Random teams—ended with me and Maelyn against you. I aspected my mana—made a portal and stabbed you. It was the only fight you ever lost.”

  There was another pause, longer than the first. “I remember.”

  Akari tried to speak again, but she broke into a fit of coughs as her tears ran down her throat. She rolled onto her side, facing away from him.

  “It’s okay.” The mattress shifted as Kalden scooted closer behind her. He moved some hair from her eyes and brought his lips to her hairline. Akari ground her teeth together, and the tears flowed harder than before. Her mother used to kiss her like that.

  “It’s not,” Akari repeated.

  “The memory’s fuzzy for me.” Kalden kept stroking her hair. “I never saw this part in my dreams.”

  “There was a man in the sky,” she said. “A Mystic. He showed up after our duel. He . . .”

  “Filled the sky with black mana,” he finished for her.

  “Yeah.”

  “He sent us to the Archipelago,” Kalden continued. “All of us.”

  So, he did remember. Akari curled into a ball, gathering her thoughts. The explosions grew even louder outside as the Grevandi advanced toward their hotel. Light flashed between the gaps in the curtains, and her chest shook from the blasts.

  All the while, images of her enemy remained burned in her vision like a flash of lightning—a solid black silhouette against the pale sky. He’d hidden his face, just like he’d hidden his name in the diner.

  People were terrified of Relia, but at least she left evidence of her battles behind. What sort of aspect could erase someone from existence? And why had he imprisoned them instead of killing them?

  But there was an even bigger problem—something she’d avoided until now. This Mystic hadn’t just attacked their sect out of nowhere. Someone had betrayed Last Haven and led him there. Her father had known that from the second he’d seen her aspect. He hadn’t cared about the aspect itself. He only cared about the price she’d paid to get it.

  “It was my fault,” Akari said. “I’m the reason this happened.”

  ~~~

  Relia ran down three flights of stairs into the hotel lobby, moving past the crowds who’d gathered there. The room was two stories high, with balconies and wooden supports running along three walls. Glass windows had covered the outer wall before. Now, those were reinforced with wooden boards, sheet metal, and walls of protection mana.

  Before today, the Unmarked had patrolled the streets like battle-hardened war veterans. They’d stared defiantly at the Dragonlord as he flew over the city, and they’d watched the news with cold indifference when he spoke.

  Now, the soldiers shifted and fidgeted as they waited for the battle. Some told jokes while others reacted with forced laughter. The fear was thick enough to taste. These guys had seen street skirmishes, but never a proper war. Somehow, their fear made Relia calmer. It was like they’d left an empty vacuum, and her own subconscious hurried to fill it.

  Hearing Kyzar’s voice helped, too. Relia had spent the better part of last year fighting alone. Either that, or she’d been defending Novices like Akari and Kalden. Not to mention all the ones who’d died in the prison on Arkala.

  For once, she didn’t have to worry about the big picture. She just had to do her part—heal whoever she could, and bait the Artisans when Kyzar gave the order. Strangely enough, being part of a team like this was all she’d ever wanted.

  The crowd parted for Relia as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. Armor covered her body from head to heel, but her pale face would be clear through her visor. Not to mention her red braid that stuck out the back.

  The Unmarked still didn’t accept her, but they were too pragmatic to waste her skills. Oh well, Relia didn’t care if they liked her. Akari and Kalden were her friends, and that was enough.

  Unless they died tonight. Then she’d be alone again. Her chest tightened at the thought, and her stomach did somersaults. So much for that nice calm feeling she had before.

  Thanks a lot, brain.

  The sounds of fighting drew closer as the Grevandi approached. Relia craned her neck and saw a glimpse of blue light down the street. Dozens of Missiles flew from the balconies and windows above, along with bullets and grenades. Meanwhile, the Grevandi pressed forward behind their shield wall, returning their own Missiles along the way.

  As usual, both sides tried to make the other waste more mana, favoring battery-powered weapons and shields, keeping their real techniques in reserve. Relia’s teachers had compared it to the first ten moves of a crowns game where both players fought for small gains across the board.

  “They’re getting closer,” someone said in Relia’s earpiece

  “It’s the sweepers,” Kyzar replied in his gravelly voice. Was it weird that she found his voice attractive? He was twice her age, not to mention a half dragon. Yeah . . . better keep that to herself. “Snipers, take a shot if you get one. No one else engage.”

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  Relia squinted and saw that Kyzar was right. The Unmarked had trapped the roads with landmines and caches of toxic mana, and the Grevandi sent smaller groups ahead to deal with those.

  And yes, everyone was cool with using toxic mana in battle, but life mana was evil. Why? Because people were jerks and hypocrites. That was why.

  Several heartbeats passed, then gunshots erupted from the windows above. It seemed like the snipers worked in pairs. One aimed for the landmine directly, and the blast knocked out the enemy’s shields. Then the second sniper took the killing shot.

  The Grevandi who died were only Novices.

  Relia never could have sacrificed people like that. She didn’t even like trading her pieces during crowns, and those were just wooden figures.

  Then again, she always lost at crowns.

  Another minute passed, then the bulk of the Grevandi stepped into firing range. Rows of soldiers led the way, followed by tanks and armored vans.

  Blasts of blinding light followed as the Unmarked engaged on Kyzar’s command. Fire artists struck in a dozen different ways. Some melted the road itself, while others worked with wind artists to hurl clouds of burning sawdust into their ranks.

  Meanwhile, ice artists froze the enemy vehicles in place, and stone artists hurled bricks and boulders.

  But still, the Grevandi advanced, countering every tactic with their own techniques.

  “This is it,” Kyzar told Relia over a private channel. “Get those death Missiles ready.”

  “Copy that.” She formed several small clouds of life mana around her body. These clouds weren’t lethal yet, but the Unmarked soldiers still gave her a wide berth as she worked.

  Then—just like before—Relia encased the clouds in spheres of pure mana, making them more mobile. These techniques would grow weaker every second, but Kyzar knew that. He must have something planned.

  Her earpiece buzzed with more chatter, but it was all gibberish to Relia. Even when they spoke Espirian, she still got lost in all the code phrases and local slang.

  “You good, spira?” Kyzar’s voice again.

  “I’m good,” Relia said as she sealed off her techniques.

  “Watch for the truck,” he said. “Then aim for the gap.”

  “Um . . . ” She glanced left and right. “Did you say truck?”

  Just then, the trailer of a semi-truck fell from the sky, straight for the enemy vanguard. Relia hadn’t seen how they’d done it, but that seemed like the point.

  The trailer crashed into the enemy line, darkening a portion of the blue shield wall.

  Ouch.

  You could counter mana and bullets all day, but how did you stop a ten thousand pound trailer? And it was about to get even worse for them.

  The Grevandi scrambled to fill the gap, but they weren’t quick enough. Relia raised her techniques and hurled them forward with bursts of pure mana. They tore straight through the opening, exploding behind the enemy ranks.

  Kyzar had planned for maximum impact, and dozens died screaming over the next minute. This tore their ranks into chaos, and the Unmarked seized the advantage. Their attacks came in every color imaginable, from red flame to pale blue ice. A blade of metal mana sliced one dragon in two, spilling his insides over the road. Stone artists threw more boulders and bricks, caving in skulls and rib cages.

  One dragon stood his ground amid the chaos and struck back with a wave of fire mana. The wave collided with the Unmarked techniques, and they erupted into clouds of dust and mist.

  An Artisan.

  The dragon stepped ahead of the shield wall, heedless of the bodies at his feet. Then he rounded on the hotel, pinning Relia with his gaze. His reptilian eyes burned with primal rage as more flames gathered around his hands.

  “Move!” Relia shouted to anyone who would listen. No sooner had the words left her mouth than she Cloaked her legs and leapt for the hotel’s front door. She might be the strongest Apprentice here, but one technique from that Artisan would split her like a fish.

  The others ignored her warning, and the fire ripped through their shields and armor. Two men erupted in flames while others slammed into the building like flung dolls.

  One soldier almost hit Relia as he spun through the air. She twisted her own body, letting him pass behind her. Another man struck the sidewalk, and she vaulted over him. The charcoal scent of fire mana filled her nostrils, mingled with smoke and burning flesh.

  Relia spun her portable shield behind her as she passed into the hotel lobby, leaving a trail of aspected mana in her wake. That wouldn’t kill the Artisan, but it might slow him down.

  Heat closed in around her as the Artisan followed. Her shield flickered out. The fire seared through her armor next, breaking the sigils like dry newspaper.

  She rolled over on her back as her enemy passed through the hotel’s double doors. An inferno of red flame swirled around him, burning away the trail of life mana.

  Any day now, Kyzar.

  The Artisan hurled another Missile her way. Relia threw her own mana into the ground, and the blast carried her several paces to her right. He hurled several more attacks, one after the other, almost too fast to see.

  Relia dodged the first attack and redirected the second with a blast of pure mana. The fire slammed into the nearest support beam with a burst of splinters. That pillar must have weighed over a thousand pounds, but the Artisan’s mana cracked it like a tree branch.

  Kyzar dropped from his perch above the doorway. His forearms shone with molten lines as he flared his Cloak technique. Fire and plasma gathered in his palms, forming into a pair of glowing red daggers.

  Her enemy’s eyes widened as if he felt Kyzar behind him. He tried to spin around, but he was too slow. Kyzar slashed a crimson dagger across his throat and his body went limp. No blood shot from the wound as he fell—just a straight line of burning plasma.

  Relia breathed a sigh of relief as her enemy hit the tile floor. A dozen other soldiers cheered around her, chanting Liberta in unison.

  Then two more dragons appeared in the doorway.

  “Behind you!” Relia shouted.

  Kyzar reacted before the words even left her mouth. He stretched out his arms like a bird taking flight, forming a heat shield across his back. Fire filled the space behind him, but he held his ground, a black silhouette against a burning sun.

  “Fall back,” Kyzar ordered his soldiers. Then he spun toward the doorway, closing the distance with his blades.

  For the second time that day, the Unmarked showed their inexperience. Rather than listening to their commander, half a dozen of the Apprentices attacked the newcomers

  The Fangs barely even looked at them, much less bother to raise their shields. Mana and bullets struck harmlessly against their skin. One of them even caught a grenade from the air and tossed it back as if he were brushing dust from his jacket.

  “Move!” Relia shouted to the other soldiers.

  The first Fang held out his palm and released a torrent of fire mana. The second dropped to one knee and pressed a hand to the tile floor. A stone artist.

  The ground shook beneath Relia’s boots as she rushed for the nearest hallway. The layer of polished tiles broke away, and the building’s foundation moved in a river of jagged stone.

  Kyzar kicked off from the ground in a burst of flame, launching himself ten feet into the air. Chaos followed as the Fangs hurled blasts of fire and stone.

  Relia pressed her back against a wall, out of sight from the battle. Then she fumbled with the old radio on her belt, holding the button to talk.

  “Valdez?” she shouted into the microphone. “Where are you?” He and Kyzar were supposed to fight the enemy Artisans together. It wasn’t much of a trap, otherwise.

  “A little busy,” a grizzled voice replied.

  “Hurry,” she snapped back. “We’ve got two Fangs in the lobby.”

  Kyzar moved in a blur, parrying dozens of strikes. Smoke filled the chamber, and burning debris rained down around them. The earthquake continued, and several walls buckled from the pressure. Smoke alarms screeched in a high-pitched rhythm, even after the lights went dark. Water blasted from the sprinklers above, but it couldn’t quench the burning mana.

  Relia had to find her friends before the whole place came down. Unfortunately, three Artisans fought between her and the staircase.

  Kyzar slammed his body into the stone artist, slashing wildly with his molten red daggers. The other dragon blocked the attacks, covering his own body with a thick layer of stone armor, following with punches like thrown boulders. The other Fang hurled flaming Missiles into the fray, but Kyzar deflected them like a Shokenese blade artist. He’d clearly spent decades training with this aspect, and skill his rivaled many of the Artisans back in Koreldon

  Meanwhile, the Fangs looked half his age. They’d gained their mana with soulshine rather than practice, and it showed in their movements.

  But Kyzar couldn’t beat them both—not two against one.

  The enemy fire artist plowed into Kyzar from behind. Kyzar spun with another blur of red plasma, burying his blade into the Fang’s bicep. This left him open to the stone artist who sent a spike of concrete through his calf. Kyzar stumbled forward, and the floor opened to swallow him.

  Relia wanted to help, but she was too slow for a fight like this. Pure mana wouldn’t even scratch these guys, and her life techniques would just make her a target.

  “Valdez!” she shouted again.

  “Behind you, spira.”

  Relia spun around to see the human Artisan flying down the hall—literally. Bursts of wind mana shot out from his outstretched palms. Fires died out around the lobby, and the impact sent the two Fangs stumbling back.

  The stone artist recovered first, flaring his Cloak and pushing back against the sudden gale. Valdez shot forward in a blur, grabbing the dragon by the vest. From there, he kicked off the ground, and the two of them shot through the ceiling.

  The room seemed to hold its breath for a second after that, then Kyzar and his opponent lashed out with their Missile techniques. Fire met fire in midair, sending a shockwave in every direction.

  The entire building split in two, revealing fragments of the upper levels. Beds and dressers fell through the gaps, along with nightstands, chairs, and televisions. Water flowed from exposed pipes, and the fires spread.

  Relia stared at the avalanche of wood and glass. She’d seen Artisans fight before, but those fights happened in official arenas— places where they could only hurt each other. This was something else entirely. Despite her lecture to Akari and Kalden, she hadn’t truly expected this much damage.

  Her instincts screamed a warning, and she took cover behind the concierge's desk.

  Half the building collapsed behind her. One floor smashed into the other, and the layers of concrete snapped like a falling house of cards. The dust gathered in a blinding cloud, and the fire flashed through the darkness as the Artisans fought.

  The world shook when the last floor hit the ground, and she felt the impact in her bones.