Akari cycled her mana as she charged into battle. Skyscrapers surrounded her on all sides, stretching into the gray mist above.

  Koreldon City.

  She’d seen this place in her dreams. The roads went on for miles in every direction, forming a massive urban labyrinth. The buildings loomed so high, she’d have to strain her neck to see their peaks.

  Her opponent stood farther down the street. A young woman, clad in crisp white armor from head to heel. Black stripes separated the pieces, and a black visor hid her face.

  Sanako. Gravity artist. Thirteen years old, with four hundred mana points. She’s a long-range fighter who plays a support role in team battles. Better to close the distance quickly. The thoughts flooded Akari’s mind in a rush. They felt like her own, but they couldn’t be. She’d never even seen this girl before.

  Akari vaulted over parked cars as she ran. Mana flowed through her channels like a rushing river, strengthening her muscles and bones. Her body felt solid with each step, as if she could smash the asphalt beneath her boots.

  A Cloak technique? Was this how Relia felt all the time?

  Sanako shot two transparent Missiles from her palms, lifting a nearby car off the ground.

  Right . . . gravity artist.

  Akari vaulted over another parked car, landing on the road less than ten paces from her opponent.

  Sanako held the car in midair with no apparent effort, then she hurled it straight toward Akari.

  Mana flooded Akari’s legs, and she pushed off from the ground. Her jump carried her three strides to the right, and she landed on the sidewalk. The car shattered against the asphalt in a burst of broken metal and glass. The impact shook her bones, but she kept her eyes on her opponent

  Sanako hurled another car with blinding speed—too quick to dodge. She’d predicted Akari’s first move and she’d lined up her shot accordingly.

  Akari gathered two Missiles in her palms. For the first time, she felt the strength of the mana in her own soul. It was far denser than her real soul. How much . . .

  The answer came to her at once: 650 mana. Practically the peak of Gold, and over ten times her current count.

  Akari shot her Missiles at the approaching vehicle. Metal warped as the car caved in from the roof. The windows broke beneath the impact, and glass shattered around her.

  But still, the car flew forward.

  She flooded her channels with pure mana and threw herself straight at the car. Two more Missiles left her hands, and these formed a single Construct, shielding her upper body from the impact.

  The front of the Construct sharpened into a blade, severing the car like a paper bag.

  No sooner had she landed than her opponent launched two pure Missiles of her own. Apparently, this girl had double-aspected her mana.

  Akari drew a blade from its sheath, two feet long and enhanced with metal mana. Then she strengthened the weapon further, sending mana from her channels into the blade itself. It shone with pale blue light as she slashed through the air, knocking Sanako’s Missile aside.

  She tried to close the distance, but the other girl kept her on the defensive, hurling pieces of broken metal with her gravity mana.

  This is bullshit. This whole arena favors Sanako.

  Wait … whose thoughts were those? They must have come from her past self.

  The fight continued as Akari exchanged more Missiles with her opponent. All the while, she dodged and sliced through the falling debris, weaving her own attacks through the gaps.

  Talek. Her past self knew so many fighting moves. But the more she thought about this dream, the stranger it seemed. Akari felt in control of her body, as if each movement were a conscious choice. But that couldn’t be true. She didn’t know these techniques.

  Did that make her a prisoner in her own skin?

  No sooner had the thought taken shape than time slowed to a crawl. The battlefield blurred around her, and the sounds grew dull and distant.

  “You might realize you’re dreaming,” Elend had told her last night. “Ignore those thoughts. Immerse yourself in the moment.”

  Right. She was here to observe. The rest could come later, after she woke up.

  “Think about the sensations. Soak up everything like a sponge. This will ground you in the moment.”

  Akari took several mental breaths and focused on her surroundings again. Her breath was warm inside her helmet, but each inhale brought a rush of crisp winter air. She wore armor like her opponent, but hers was black instead of white. She caught glimpses of the sleeve with each Missile she fired.

  But why would two middle-schoolers fight like this? This didn’t feel like a friendly duel, either. The girl had just thrown a freaking car at her, for Talek’s sake.

  Focus, Akari scolded herself. Stop thinking.

  She’d missed some of the fight while she’d checked out. It reminded her of the times she’d walked to school on autopilot while cycling her mana. Kalden would be terrible at this. He had to analyze every detail, asking questions until he—

  The dream blurred again, and she caught herself. Damnit.

  Akari slashed forward with her blade. Her opponent leapt back, using her aspect to jump to gain more altitude. Akari grinned as the other girl flew soared into the air. Gravity mana offered great mobility, but it also left you exposed. Easy as shooting a balloon.

  Akari lashed out with a volley of pure Missiles, sharpening the edges into spikes. Sanako raised a Construct of pure mana between them. Akari ducked and sidestepped the Construct, lowering her center of gravity and arching her Missiles around the shield. Her mana struck the other girl several times, hard enough to poke holes in her pretty white armor.

  Sanako smashed into the sidewalk, and Akari leapt on top of her. She readied a pure Missile in her palm, putting more pressure in the center, sharpening the edge to a deadly point.

  So that’s how Kalden does it.

  She’d struggled with this technique before, but it felt effortless here. Could she really bring this skill back to the real world? Elend seemed to think so.

  Akari struck forward with her palm, aiming for her opponent’s windpipe. The other girl countered with a quick shield. Mana struck mana as their techniques broke in a blast of pale blue light. Akari prepared another attack, then the two of them flew upward.

  Shit. More gravity mana.

  The ground retreated beneath them, and they flew several dozen feet in the air. Her opponent grabbed her by the front of her armor and twisted them both around. Their bodies spun as they fought, and the city became a whirlwind of gray sky and stone buildings.

  With a sudden burst of strength, Sanako hurled her straight toward the nearest building. Akari looked up to see a brick wall closing in. Her head would shatter like an egg if she hit that.

  Instead, she twisted her body in midair, enforcing her legs and spine with a rush of mana. Then she kicked off from the building, aiming for her opponent again.

  The other girl had already hit the ground by this point. She raised her hands and unleashed several pure Missiles, but Akari deflected them with bursts of her own mana.

  In real life, this level of fighting would have taken her full concentration. But for her past self, this was like brushing her teeth. The mana flew back and forth as they exchanged technique, and her eyes scanned the battlefield.

  There. Her blade lay on the ground, less than ten feet away.

  Akari shot a Missile toward the fallen weapon, and time slowed as the mana wrapped around it. The movement was almost gentle, grasping the blade like curled fingers

  Then she pulled the mana back into her outstretched hand. The weapon came along for the ride, spinning through the air. Akari timed it perfectly, and she caught the weapon by the leather hilt. From there, she adjusted her grip and soared back toward the ground, blade angled for the kill.

  As expected, her opponent raised a Construct between them.

  Akari’s weapon became an extension of her body, and she flooded it with more mana. It clashed with Sanako’s shield, and the Construct shattered into a cloud of pale blue mist. Akari continued downward, and she plunged the blade through her opponent’s chest.

  The girl’s body went limp, and white light shone through the wound. Akari almost collapsed on top of her, but she caught herself at the last second.

  She didn’t bother finishing off her opponent. Instead, she glanced up at the horizon in expectation. Thoughts of an audience floated through her head . . . but why? There was no audience here. They were alone on this city street.

  Another second passed, and the city faded like a cloud of broken dream mana. The sky changed colors from dull gray to pale blue. The buildings faded to lush green mountains, capped with snow.

  She found herself standing in a wide, circular arena, more than fifty yards in diameter. A man’s voice spoke through the arena’s speakers, and the massive scoreboard echoed his words:

  Victory: Akari Clifton.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Hundreds of applauding people sat in the audience. Akari tried to make out faces in the crowd, hoping to see her parents there. She hadn’t seen her mom’s face in almost three years, and she ached for the sight of it.

  But her past self didn’t care about that. Instead, her eyes fell to her fallen opponent. Seconds before, the girl had been lying in a pile of broken glass and metal, bleeding white light from her chest. Now, the wound was gone, and her armor was unbroken. Even the blade had vanished into mist.

  Akari reached down and offered her opponent a hand. Clearly, this had been a game all along. Relia had mentioned combat arenas at her school. Could this be something similar? Did the whole arena run on dream mana?

  The girl clasped Akari’s wrist, and Akari pulled her back to her feet.

  “Good fight,” Akari said as she removed her helmet. Her voice sounded so young that she wanted to cringe.

  “Yeah.” The other girl sounded young, too, but strangely familiar. She pulled off her white helmet, revealing the face of a young Shokenese girl with silver glasses. Most of her hair was pulled back in a tight black bun, but her sweaty bangs clung to her forehead.

  She looked just like Kalden’s old informant. Akari still didn’t believe it until she glanced back at the scoreboard and saw the name opposite hers.

  Maelyn Sanako.

  What the hell?

  The dream threatened to break once again, and Akari reeled her thoughts back in.

  Watch now, think later.

  They went their separate ways, with each girl leaving the area from a different side. Akari stepped down a short hallway into what looked like a remote mountain village. The roads were all rough cobblestones, but the buildings looked clean and well-maintained.

  Shokenese pagodas loomed on either side of her with curved terraces, tapering with every tier as they stretched toward the clear blue sky. She also spotted plenty of Espirian architecture in the mix, with tall stone pillars and twisting spires.

  The city’s name floated into her mind a heartbeat later: Last Haven.

  And this was no ordinary city. It was a sect—the sort of place where mana artists lived away from the rest of the world, dedicating their lives to training without distractions.

  And Akari actually lived here? With her whole family? Talk about a paradise.

  She walked through the streets, passing dozens of strange faces she didn’t recognize. Her route took her to a residential area with rows of small houses. The sidewalks were less busy here, but she spotted Maelyn across the street. A boy walked beside her—probably Darren Warder. He was slightly thinner in this world, and blond bangs covered his forehead.

  Akari barely had time to react before a third person joined them on the street, carrying a bottle of liquid mana in each hand. While Darren and Maelyn both wore matching combat suits, this girl wore a simple dress and jacket. Her golden hair hung back in a pair of braids, and her violet eyes seemed to sparkle as she laughed.

  Emberlyn Frostblade.

  No . . . this was too much. Seeing Darren and Maelyn was one thing, but this? The dream slowed and unraveled around her as she fell back into her physical body.

  This time, she didn’t even try to stop it.

  ~~~

  Akari’s eyes shot open, and she sprang up in her bed. Sweat covered her body, and her heart thundered in her chest. She grabbed her glasses and tossed the blankets aside. Relia breathed softly in the other bed, resting her cheek on her hands.

  Talek. That felt so real. Elend had warned her, but a part of her hadn’t believed him.

  She moved her fingers, surprised to find herself in control once again. Hundreds of images remained burned in her vision, from the arena to the surrounding sect. And that fight … Talek. She’d known she was a combat artist in her past—that was the only explanation for her fighting skills.

  But this . . . was Relia even that good?

  Her feet found the wooden floor, and she fell into the same combat stance from the dream. She threw several punches at the air, and memories flooded her mind with each movement. She knew exactly where to place each punch, from the timing, to the angle of her fingers.

  Akari almost tried a few mana techniques, but she thought better of it. Elend had specifically told them not to break anything in the hotel rooms. Instead, she grabbed her mana watch from her nightstand, pressing it to the back of her wrist.

  51/51, the screen read.

  Damnit. She’d hoped she would keep her mana from the dreams, but of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

  She’d been Gold for a short time. Not just Gold, but more than halfway to Apprentice. How could she use this to her advantage? She’d have to ask Elend about it tomorrow.

  “What’s up?” Relia asked from across the room.

  “Uh . . .” Akari froze. At some point, she’d started punching the air again, and she must have looked ridiculous in her half-naked state. “Sorry. Just . . . testing something.”

  Relia gave a half-hearted nod, and Akari crawled back under the blankets, resting her head against the wooden headboard. Several heartbeats passed, then she retrieved the notebook from her nightstand. Elend had insisted they record every detail of their dreams, preferably right when they woke up.

  So she relaxed over the next few minutes as she wrote down what happened, from the combat arena to the strange sect in the mountains. Her aspect had been strangely absent for the entire dream. But why? Had she been holding back for some reason?

  Finally, her thoughts drifted to the end of the dream.

  Maelyn Sanako, Darren Warder, and Emberlyn Frostblade… all together in the outside world.

  But how? What the hell was that place?

  ~~~

  Kalden threw another punch at the bag, twisting his hips and putting his whole body behind the blow. His hands ached from the constant practice, and his muscles felt like wrung out rags. Even the cool mountain air brought no relief as the sweat rolled down his forehead.

  For all that, the sigil failed to light up. Again.

  “Follow through,” his brother said from behind him. “You’re pulling back too quick.”

  Kalden let out a long breath and prepared another punch.

  “Lighter on your feet,” Sozen said.

  Kalden stood on the balls of his feet and bounced several times in the grass. Unfortunately, he’d been training for the better part of an hour, and his heart wasn’t in it. He threw another punch, but nothing happened.

  Various designs covered the dark blue bag, but his target was a jaku sigil in the center. Theoretically, that would convert kinetic force into light mana, but only if you hit it with enough power. Kalden couldn’t recall the exact number, but it was well over a hundred pounds of force. His father considered that a reasonable goal for a nine-year-old.

  “Focus on your target,” his brother said after his next punch. “Not your fist.”

  Kalden stayed quiet as he held all the pieces in his mind. But the harder he tried, the worse he got. He needed more time to internalize the movements.

  His older brother must have realized the same thing because he held up a hand. “Look, this isn’t your fault. I know I’m not the best teacher.”

  “You’re better than the rest,” Kalden said. His other teachers only cared about results. If they failed to deliver fast enough, then Grandmaster Trengsen would find someone who could.

  The training continued, and Kalden’s present self recognized the memory for what it was. Elend was right—this was nothing like an ordinary dream. It felt impossibly real as if he’d transported his mind into his younger body. He felt the grass beneath his shoes, and the mountain wind on his face. With every breath, he inhaled the scent of pine needles and dusty autumn leaves.

  Sozen had always seemed so much older and more mature. Now, he looked impossibly young—probably no older than twelve or thirteen. At least, his present self thought so. Meanwhile, his younger self felt a mix of awe and jealousy for his older brother.

  Kalden tried to look past the punching bag toward the horizon, but that was a mistake. Time slowed to a crawl and the dream faded around the edges. Right. Stay focused. He cleared his mind and sank into the moment, focusing on the sensations of his body.

  More punches followed, along with Sozen’s feedback when he failed. Finally, Kalden sank to his knees, struggling for breath. His brother passed him the water bottle, and he struggled to hold it between his shaking hands.

  “I know you want a break,” Sozen said. “But father will be back in two days. He won’t go this easy on you.”

  Kalden took a long swig from the bottle and wiped his mouth on the back of his forearm. “Can we take one anyway?”

  Sozen considered that for a moment, then shrugged. “Twenty minutes?”

  Kalden gave a grateful nod, resting his back against the nearby oak tree while his brother stepped inside the house. Sozen meant well, but Kalden’s thoughts drifted back to his favorite Shokenese proverb.

  Hard work breeds Artisans, and insight breeds Masters.

  Sometimes, a moment of quiet contemplation was worth more than an hour on the training mat.

  He took in his surroundings, from the yard to the snow capped mountains beyond. This looked like a suburban neighborhood, with dozens of houses crammed into a small space. A chain link fence surrounded his backyard, giving him a clear view of the adjacent houses. A pair of dogs played in the yard to his left, while a young girl trained on his right.

  The girl was about his age, Shokenese, with dark brown hair that fell a few inches past her chin. She threw a series of punches at the air, but her form was abysmal.

  The girl must have seen him staring because she fixed him with a glare. “What are you looking at?”

  “You’re punching wrong,” Kalden said. “You’d break your hand if you hit a real opponent like that.”

  “What?” Her face darkened like a storm, which seemed like an overreaction. It wasn’t like he’d insulted her honor. He’d just criticized her technique.

  “It’s nothing personal,” he clarified. Was this really necessary? Hadn’t she heard Sozen criticizing his own technique less than five minutes ago?”

  She stepped closer to the chainlink fence and raised her eyebrows. “Bet I can punch harder than you.”

  Ah, so she had been watching him after all.

  “Okay.” Kalden beckoned her over. “Come and try.”

  The girl grinned as she climbed over the chainlink fence and ran across the yard. Kalden had expected her to go for the punching bag, but she fell into a clumsy combat stance and faced him directly.

  Oh well. Kalden had been punched hundreds of times by his peers, and those were trained martial artists. He doubted this girl could actually hurt him, and it wasn’t his fault if she hurt herself.

  She threw a pathetic punch with her right hand. Her whole arm twisted like a whip, from her shoulder to her wrist. Then she slowed down at the last second, and her fist bounced harmlessly off his chest.

  “See?” Kalden kept his tone flat and his face stoic. Proper blade artists offered pointers to their juniors, but they never gloated.

  The girl frowned down at her fist, then struck again. Kalden twisted his body to the left, catching the blow on his shoulder. “Ow!” She pulled her hand back and shook it out. She glared at him as if it were somehow his fault.

  “Come on.” Kalden gestured to the bag with his chin. “I’ll show you the right technique.”

  They spent the rest of his break training together. Kalden demonstrated several punches in slow motion, breaking down the components of the move. He’d probably made mistakes along the way, but that didn’t matter. The girl didn’t need to light up the sigil; she just had to punch the bag without hurting herself.

  She learned with surprising speed, and she grew increasingly excited as their time went on. Was she actually having fun? Kalden struggled to comprehend that; for him, combat training had been an endless climb toward impossible goals. But of course, this girl hadn’t come from a martial family, and she remained blissfully ignorant of that life.

  Her enthusiasm must have been contagious, though, because Kalden found himself smiling along. He might have failed in his own lessons today, but he could still share in her success.

  Well, success might be a generous term here. The girl put far too much weight into each blow, and a real opponent would use that against her. She also held her breath and stiffened her shoulders, along with a hundred other details he couldn’t put into words.

  Kalden normally trained with more advanced students, and he’d never seen so many flaws in one place. The mistakes looked so obvious, and the path to improvement was clear in his mind’s eye. Was this how Kalden looked to his brother?

  The girl eventually wore herself out and stepped away from the bag. Kalden took her place and fell into a combat stance. A thousand thoughts swirled through his mind, from the girl’s mistakes to his older brother’s advice. Kalden let them fade like leaves in the wind, focusing only on the present moment.

  When he struck the bag again, the sigil shone with a burst of pale blue light.

  What? Now it worked?

  The girl blinked at the glowing design. “What’s that mean?”

  Kalden was about to explain when a woman stuck her head out the back door in the adjacent yard. “Dinner’s ready!” she hollered.

  “Never mind,” the girl grumbled. “I gotta go. ”

  “Wait,” he said. “I never got your name. I’m Kalden Trengsen.”

  She grinned at him as she hopped back over the fence. “Akari Clifton.”

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