Kalden rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he pushed open the Cantina’s back door. There wasn’t much out here—just a narrow parking lot with a few overflowing dumpsters. A battered car sat in one corner, and a chain-link fence ran along the opposite edge, keeping a cluster of bushes and palm trees at bay.

  Akari stood in the center of the parking lot, guiding her Missiles through the morning haze.

  One Missile spiraled around a lamp pole, and she lowered her center of gravity, wrapping it around the light itself. When the mana returned to her outstretched hand, Akari reabsorbed it into her skin.

  What? Since when could she do that?

  He’d seen that move in Elend’s videos, but it was ridiculously complex. Either they were too fast and their mana broke against their skin, or they were too slow and the mana vaporized before they could reclaim it.

  Akari must have seen him standing there, but she didn’t slow down. Instead, she fell back into a combat stance and released another pure Missile. This one soared straight for a row of plastic milk cartons which she’d lined up near the dumpsters.

  Kalden had expected her carton to fly across the parking lot, crumbling beneath the impact of her mana. But she sharpened the Missile into a blade, slicing straight through the plastic.

  Okay, she definitely hadn’t known that move before.

  Akari raised her hand and leapt to the side, retrieving her Missile before it flew too far. It cut through a second milk carton on the way back, and she grinned as she met his eyes. “Let’s see the dragons shrug that off.”

  She stepped over to the sidewalk, retrieved her water bottle, and took a long drink. Even her stance was different today. When he’d first met Akari, she’d walked with a slumped posture, avoiding eye contact or glaring at the world.

  Today, she moved with a quiet confidence and grace. More like Relia than her old self.

  “How long have you been out here?” Kalden asked.

  She shrugged and took another drink. “Before sunrise.”

  It was almost seven o’clock now. And judging by the sun’s position, it must have risen at least two hours ago. Sweat glistened on Akari’s face and collarbones, and her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. Kalden felt his own breath increasing but for entirely different reasons.

  “Thought you weren’t a morning person without your coffee,” he said.

  “The dreams worked.” She grinned up at him, proud as a cat. “I learned a bunch of new skills last night.”

  Kalden nodded and waved her toward the door. “Come on, Relia’s waiting for us inside.”

  ~~~

  Akari followed Kalden back into the dining room. Things were surprisingly quiet compared to last night. The radio played a Cadrian folk song, and a dozen locals sat scattered around the long bar. She even recognized a few faces from last night, including Juan and the other guards. Did they hang out here whenever they weren’t working?

  Elend sat with Arturo in one corner of the room, and Kalden led her to another table where Relia waited.

  “Morning!” the other girl said with a cheerful wave. “Hope you don’t mind, but I ordered for everyone. They only had one breakfast thing on the menu.”

  Kalden sat across from Relia, and Akari took the seat between them, glancing down at her plate. It looked like someone had thrown a bunch of sausage and potatoes into a skillet and then cracked some eggs to fill the gaps. It still smelled good, though.

  They ate in silence for the next few minutes. Akari hadn’t realized it until now, but she’d worked up quite an appetite with her morning training. The food tasted as good as it smelled, but the coffee surprised her the most. It was fresh and smooth, with hints of sugar and citrus. Was that because Cadria had a tropical climate? They had to use greenhouses to grow coffee beans back home, but these beans probably grew outside in their natural habitat.

  “Okay.” Kalden wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Now let’s hear your dream.”

  “What?” She furrowed her brow. “Why don’t you go first?”

  “You’re done eating,” he said with a grin.

  Oops. She’d almost forgotten what a slow eater Kalden was. Stupid Golds and their elaborate table manners. Well, whatever. She drew in a deep breath and launched into the story. At first, she’d assumed they would wait for Elend, but she’d already talked with him that morning. So had Kalden, apparently.

  Akari had never been much of a storyteller. She always rushed through the details, eager to get out of the spotlight. Still, she managed to slow down for the big ending reveal, and it paid off when she got a gasp from Kalden.

  “Then I woke up,” she finished.

  Relia glanced back and forth between them. “I don’t get it. Who are these people?”

  “They were my friends,” Kalden said. “Well, our friends, I guess. They helped us escape the Martials before we joined you.”

  “Except for Emberlyn,” Akari said. “She’s the reason I got arrested.”

  Kalden gave a slow nod. “So Maelyn was the gravity artist you fought?”

  “Yeah. Weird, huh?”

  “Not as weird as you might think. Her grandfather was a gravity artist, too—CEO of Sanako Industries.”

  Akari sipped her coffee. “So, her grandpa kept his aspect, but Maelyn switched from gravity to healing?”

  Kalden gave a helpless shrug. “We didn’t have many advanced aspects back home. Maybe they changed it to fit the narrative?”

  She frowned. “Mazren lost his mana arts too. So did my mom.”

  “It makes sense in your mom’s case,” Kalden said. “She was born a Bronze.”

  “Sure, but what about Mazren?”

  “Maybe it’s like the half-dragons,” he said. “Maybe he had some advanced abilities that didn’t fit? Or maybe they needed more technicians on the mana wall?”

  Talek. The more she thought about this, the crazier it seemed. The Archipelago had over a quarter-million people, and someone had altered all their lives to fit a massive lie. No one could have controlled every detail by hand, but it wasn’t random, either.

  She turned to Relia. “Are there, like, evil AIs in this world?”

  “Huh?” The other girl cocked her head to the side. “What’s an AI?”

  “Artificial intelligence. Computers that can think.”

  “Oh.” Relia mulled that over for a second. “No. I think that just happens in movies.”

  Kalden leaned forward and met Akari’s eyes. “What are you thinking?”

  She shrugged a shoulder. “This whole thing feels like an algorithm. You put people in, and it spits out new versions of them that fit the narrative.”

  He hummed in consideration. “What about Emberlyn? Was she an alchemist in your dream?”

  “Maybe. I saw her give Maelyn and Darren some potions.”

  “And they were wearing combat suits,” he said. “But she wasn’t?”

  “Sure. But who cares?”

  Kalden shoveled a bite of food into his mouth, and he seemed to gather his thoughts while he chewed. “I talked with Emberlyn a few months before we left. She told me she had dreams about being an alchemist—the same kind of dreams you and I had.”

  Akari scoffed at that. Was he seriously trying to humanize Emberlyn Frostblade right now? The girl who had everything, who terrorized Akari out of jealousy? No thanks.

  “I think it’s your turn,” Akari said before she got worked up. “What was your dream about?”

  Kalden cleared his throat. “It was actually about you.”

  “Ooo!” Relia clasped her hands together.

  “We were kids,” he said. “I was nine, and you looked about the same age.”

  Huh. She’d assumed both their dreams would happen in roughly the same timeline. But there was no logical reason for that, in hindsight. Elend claimed their subconscious minds would decide what to show them, and nothing was off limits.

  Kalden plunged into his story. Apparently they’d been neighbors in Last Haven, and he’d taught her how to punch with proper form. Akari hung on every word as he spoke. She hadn’t seen Kalden in her own dream, but it hardly surprised her that he’d been there in this secret mountain sect.

  “And that’s about it. Kalden leaned over and pulled a bundle of papers from his bag. “I also have a transcript of our talk, if you want to read it. Plus some other notes.”

  Relia whistled as he spread the papers on the table. “Somebody was a good student.”

  “Number one in our class,” Akari said, never missing a chance to embarrass Kalden. But her grin faded when she saw the extent of his notes. Her own notes had been a single page with a few bullet points. Meanwhile, his were far more elaborate.

  The first page had an estimation of the sect’s population. He even showed his math, including the estimated square footage for each house, and the number of houses that could fill the available space.

  The next page described the sect itself, listing the species of plants and the materials used in the houses. Another paragraph made note of the climate, the season, and the surrounding mountains. Based on all that, Kalden put their position somewhere in Northeast Espiria. More paragraphs explained his exact reasoning.

  Akari sank back in her chair, feeling suddenly useless. It was easy to forget how freakishly smart Kalden was.

  Finally, she found the transcript of their conversation.

  “Don’t punch your target,” Kalden told her. “Punch through it. One foot in front of the other like this. Fist aligned with your forearm. Exhale.”

  She’d heard those exact words before. This whole time, Kalden had been the boy from her memories. The one who’d first taught her how to fight.

  Akari read her mother’s words at the end of the page, and a wave of emotion surged through her. Talek. She’d give anything to see her mother again, and these dreams were the closest thing she’d ever get. A part of her wanted to go back to sleep right now and relive this memory herself. To see her mother’s face, to talk with her again . . .

  Her eyes burned, and she pushed the papers away.

  “You okay?” Relia asked.

  “Yeah.” Akari took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes on her hoodie sleeve. “It’s the Cadrian food. They use way too many onions.”

  Elend joined them a few minutes later and sat down in the free chair. “Arturo and I leave in ten minutes. It’s a three-hour drive to San Talek, but we should be back this afternoon. Early evening at the latest.”

  “You sure we can’t come with you?” Relia asked.

  “This place is dangerous,” he said with a quick shake of his head. “One foreigner will draw less attention.”

  “Can we get back our lost mana?” Akari asked him. If Elend was leaving them behind, then she’d rather not twiddle her thumbs all day.

  Elend shot her a curious look. “We talked about this, lass. It will take time.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “But I was a Gold in my dream,” she said. “Aren’t there any shortcuts?”

  “It’s possible.” He furrowed his brow, seeming to gather his thoughts. “Consider this—how did you lose your mana in the first place?”

  “Intention,” Kalden said. “A powerful Mystic wanted us to become weaker, so we did.”

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Elend said. “Your enemy would need a technique to transfer that intention to you. Probably a specialized aspect of some sort. But yes, that’s the gist of it. And all intention can be opposed. Remember how that Artisan fought back against me in the town square?”

  Kalden’s lips made a thin line. “But he only resisted because of those cuffs. Can we oppose a Mystic?”

  “Directly? No. But you’re just opposing a small piece of your enemy’s power. You also have the laws of physics on your side—it’s far easier to resist a technique than to impose your will on someone. That Grevandi didn’t want to kill himself. His whole mind and body rejected the idea . . .”

  “And I’m really a Gold right now,” Akari said in a low voice. It was strange to say, but she’d felt the truth in her dream.

  “Aye. You’ve lived a lie for the past few years, and you carry a piece of that lie with you today.”

  “So how do we fix it?” she asked. “How do we get the mana back?”

  He raised a finger. “Keep in mind, this whole situation is unprecedented. I can’t offer you shortcuts. Just theories.”

  She gave an eager nod. Theories were better than nothing.

  “We talked this morning,” Elend said. “And you spoke of your past self as if she were a whole different person. You need to move past that sort of thinking. Feel your past self’s thoughts as if they’re your own. If you can become her again, then you might gain her power. Your power.”

  He turned to Kalden. “The same goes for you, lad. You had a head start in your old life, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you reached the peak of Gold.”

  Akari frowned at that. “Sounds wishy-washy.”

  “Aye.” Elend chuckled. “Just wait until you reach the Master realm.”

  Her hands curled into fists on her lap. “How do we know if we’re doing it wrong?” Masters had a lifetime of experience to draw on, but she had nothing.

  “You don’t.” Elend spread out his hands on the table. “And you might go weeks with no sense of progress, but that shouldn’t deter you. Good students act based on feedback, but the best students can plunge forward with no feedback at all.”

  “It’s like how you learned mana arts and escaped the island,” Relia said. “You had no guarantee it would work.”

  Elend nodded in agreement. “If it were easy, then everyone else would have done it..”

  “But what’s the exercise here?” Kalden hovered a pen over his stack of papers, ready to take notes. “We just . . . what—meditate on our past selves?”

  “Aye, meditation is a good start.”

  Akari stared at him, waiting for more.

  Elend must have noticed, because he shot her a knowing grin. “The mind is a mysterious thing, lass. Even I don’t have all the answers.”

  “So?” What would you do in our place?”

  Elend hesitated, then raised his knee. “Do you want to try my shoes on?”

  She blinked at him. “What?”

  Elend glanced down and tapped his shoe on the wooden floor. “They might be a few sizes too big for you, but they’re Grandmaster shoes. That means they must be good, right?”

  Kalden cleared his throat. “You’re saying there’s no one-size solution. We get that. But what’s the harm in sharing?”

  “You’d be surprised,” Elend said with a weary sigh. “Well-meaning Masters share their wisdom, hoping to pull their students up the stairs behind them. Those same students struggle in vain to force themselves into a mold, when they’d be far better off forging their own paths from the start.”

  Damnit. Akari still didn’t like it, but he sounded sincere.

  Elend rose from his chair, and the rest of them followed suit. “I have some parting gifts before I leave.” He stepped toward Relia and took her hands in his. Violet dream mana flashed between them, and he pressed another hand to her forehead.

  When he pulled his hand away, Relia had marks like the dragons they’d fought yesterday.

  “Don’t worry.” Elend made his way around the table, taking Kalden’s hands next. “These are illusions, but they should fool most of the Grevandi.”

  Akari stiffened at that. “Are they coming back?”

  “Unlikely.” Elend stepped toward her, and she offered her hands. “But I’d rather prepare for the worst.” Mana flashed between them. The sensation was painless, just like when he’d put the dream Construct in her head.

  “These draw power from your soul,” he explained. “Stop cycling for about ten seconds, and the marks will vanish” He gestured to Relia, and all three marks faded from her skin. Then she struck a victory pose as if she’d done a trick.

  Elend nodded. “Start cycling again, and the marks should return.”

  As if on cue, Relia’s marks popped back into place.

  Kalden examined his outstretched hands. “How long will these last?”

  “They’ll last for weeks as long as you cycle every day. The same goes for the Construct in your head.” Elend stepped toward the door, then he paused again. “Oh, almost forgot. I arranged for our food and lodging for one more day. You’ll just need to help Marco with some chores—laundry, dishes, things like that.”

  And with that, Elend strode toward the door where Arturo waited. “Best of luck! Stay out of trouble!”

  No sooner had Elend left than Marco called them back to the kitchen for the aforementioned chores. If this were a movie, they would have breezed through the work in a quick montage, skipping to the cool parts where they trained their mana arts.

  Unfortunately, their lives were more like a comedy at this point. Kalden was helpless when it came to chores. He’d never dusted a day in his life, or vacuumed, or washed dishes.

  “How have you never washed dishes?” Relia asked as they gathered around the massive steel sink.

  Akari unloaded a bus tub of plates by the sink. “His maids did that for him.”

  Kalden gave her a look, but he didn’t correct her. Then he glanced back at the dishes as if they were a nest of venomous snakes.

  “Here.” Relia shoved him aside and grabbed a rough-looking sponge. “It’s not that hard. Just add some soap, and scrub until the food comes off.”

  Relia had lived on her own for several years, which basically made her a real adult. As for Akari, she’d done more than her share of chores around the Cliftons’ house. Especially dishes. So many dishes.

  To Kalden’s credit, he gave Relia his full attention as she worked, but he still didn’t look convinced. “You use your bare hands?” He glanced around the room. “Don’t they have gloves or something?”

  “You’re really scared to get your hands dirty?” Relia asked as she worked. “I didn’t see you complaining yesterday when you slit that Grevandi’s throat.”

  “Blood doesn’t bother me,” he said with a shrug.

  Relia laughed. “But food bothers you?” She stepped away from the sink, drying her hands on a nearby towel “Wait a second—then how come you’re so good at making beds?”

  “Good question,” Akari muttered. He’d even tucked in the corners of the sheets. Come to think of it, he’d done the same thing when they’d shared a room back in White Vale.

  “I made my own bed every morning.” Kalden picked up the sponge, mimicking Relia’s exact motions. “My father said it’s best to start your day with a small victory.”

  “Huh.” Relia rested her chin on her thumb. “I never made my bed at all.”

  “Me neither,” Akari said. She’d never been a morning person, so why make the routine harder? And waiting until the evening seemed to defeat the purpose.

  They moved on to the laundry after that, tossing several loads of sheets and towels into the massive washing machine. This would have been useful last night when they were washing their clothes in the bathtub, but what could you do?

  A steel door loomed in one corner of the laundry room, sealed with three different locks.

  “What’s that?” Akari asked Marco when he walked by. “Got a pet dragon locked in the basement?”

  The old bartender shook his head. “That’s not a basement, shokita. That door leads down to the catacombs.”

  “Catacombs?”

  Marco nodded, gesturing a finger behind him. “They start at the chapel and run below the city.”

  Akari furrowed her brow. “But what are they?”

  “Cadrians bury their dead,” Relia explained from the other side of the room. “They have underground tunnels filled with tombs.”

  “We used to,” Marco corrected. “That was a long time ago. Before the Aeon cultists showed up.”

  Underground tunnels filled with tombs? That sounded like a cool place to go explore. And what if they had arkions down there, like the ones in Elegan’s subway tunnels? Akari wouldn’t mind testing her skills against those.

  Unfortunately, Marco hadn’t unlocked that door in years, and he didn’t feel like starting today.

  They finished their chores around noon, and Relia led them toward a local playground. It wasn't much—just a worn-looking jungle gym with a few slides, a swing set, and a set of monkey bars.

  "Okay." The other girl kicked up sand as she spun to face them. "So you want to learn Constructs? Let's see what you can do!"

  Akari fell into a wide stance, one arm forward with the other curled up at a ninety-degree angle behind her. The Missile flew from her hand in a burst of pale blue light. Constructs didn't have to start as Missiles, but this was the simplest way to get the mana out of her body.

  The Missile flew faster than a sprinting raptor, and Akari gritted her teeth as she tried to reel it back in. Retrieving a Missile was easy, but it only became a Construct when you reached a balance between pushing and pulling.

  In Akari's case, the opposing forces ripped the mana apart, turning it to vapor in midair.

  “Damnit.” This had been so effortless in her dream.

  "Good start,” Relia said. “But you're shooting your Missile way too quick."

  “Really? I thought Missiles needed speed?" Then again, Elend had never actually said that in his videos. She'd discovered it herself through trial and error.

  "Nope." Relia held out her hand, releasing a Missile in slow motion. It was like watching a loading bar on a dial-up connection, and It looked far more solid than Akari's Missile had.

  "You need mass or velocity," she explained. "The more you have of one, the less you need of the other. The Missile flattened before her outstretched hand, forming a shield as wide as her shoulders.

  "You started with low mana counts," Relia said. "So you probably needed that speed boost at first. Not anymore. Try to slow your cycling, then force out more mana than you're used to. Pack it tight like a snowball.”

  Akari followed her advice, and her next few Missiles lasted far longer than the first.

  Relia gave her a quick thumbs up. “You’re on the right track. Keep practicing! Then she turned to Kalden. "Your turn.”

  Kalden widened his stance the same way Akari had. But instead of one hand, he raised both at once, combining two smaller Missiles into a larger one.

  Not a bad idea. Two hands meant more control.

  His mana came out far slower than Akari’s, hovering a few feet from his open palms. Then it flattened into a shield the same way Relia's had.

  Talek. Even with her combat dreams, Kalden was still ahead of her. Several more fears flashed through her mind as Kalden's shield widened. What if he unlocked his old mana, but she didn't? It took most people twelve years to reach Apprentice. What if she just slowed the others down? What if they left her behind?

  The Construct faded to mist a second later, and Kalden dropped his hands.

  Stop moping, Akari told herself. Focus on your training. Kalden might learn quicker, but he'd never outwork her. Neither would anyone else.

  ~~~

  Elend reclined in the front seat of Arturo’s pickup truck, watching the jungles roll around them.

  The truck was even older than its owner—an 845 Titan with an open cargo bed. A web of cracks covered the leather seats, and the scent of burning mana crystals drifted in from the open windows. Most people hated that smell, but it always made Elend nostalgic for simpler days. His father had kept old cars as a hobby, and the garage still harbored that sweet mineral scent today.

  The jungles gave way to urban neighborhoods with hundreds of small houses crammed between the ocean and the hillside. The traffic grew thicker along the highway, and it wasn’t long before the cars sat bumper to bumper.

  “What day is it?” Elend asked. He hadn’t asked anyone this question since he woke up from the Martial’s ice chamber. It hadn’t mattered on the island, or out at sea.

  “Irinday,” the lad said. “Tresember 56th.”

  Well, that explained the lunch-hour traffic. And Tresember was almost over? Akari claimed he’d been frozen for half a year, but that was still strange to hear. What would his wife think? He’d gone on long trips before, but never like this.

  Their route carried them into the heart of San Talek, and the houses rose into towering offices and apartment buildings. It still seemed small compared to Koreldon City, but it was bigger than he’d expected.

  Arturo took the next off-ramp, driving two more blocks until they reached a five-story parking garage. The Unmarked hideout wasn’t far from here, but they’d have to walk the rest of the way.

  The sidewalks were as busy as the roads, and they passed an equal number of humans and dragons. Elend also spotted several more Espirians in the crowd, so at least he wasn’t the only one.

  They’d only been walking for a few minutes when a black 870 Noble appeared at the intersection ahead. It was the most expensive car he’d seen in Creta, and it stuck out like a dagger in the sand.

  The car slowed as it approached them in the opposite lane. The other pedestrians ignored it, so Elend did the same. That was the key to surviving in strange cities like this—you watched the locals closely, then do whatever they did.

  Unfortunately, the car didn’t ignore Elend. It pulled into the opposite lane, driving against the flow of traffic. His heart beat faster as he sensed the passengers inside.

  “Keep walking,” he told Arturo, “Don’t look at me. Don’t turn around.”

  Arturo stiffened beside him. “Whats—“

  “No time for questions, lad. Go.”

  Arturo quickened his pace while Elend slowed down, putting some distance between them. A few seconds passed, then the lad faded into the crowd ahead.

  The shiny black Noble stopped on the curb next to Elend. The streets were too narrow to park, and they held up a long line of traffic in front of them. No one honked, though. No one dared.

  Slowly, Elend pivoted to face the vehicle. Every window was tinted, and his own reflection stared back from the dark glass.

  The back door swung open, revealing two well-dressed half-dragons. They’d veiled their souls just as Elend had, but they couldn’t hide from his senses completely. These were Masters.

  “Elend Darklight,” the man said. His voice sounded far clearer than the Grevandi he’d fought—less like a dragon, and more like a human with a refined Cadrian accent.

  Elend forced himself to smile as he approached the car. It was a smile fitting for a Grandmaster—someone who could rival their own leader in terms of power. Someone who could freeze this entire city with a flick of his wrist.

  No doubt they saw through his illusions, but would they recognize the material of the cuffs and collar? Even Elend had mistaken these for ordinary impedium, and he doubted these dragons would see something he hadn’t.

  The man’s eyes drifted past Elend’s shoulder as a human woman emerged from between two buildings. She wore a professional black dress, and her hair fell in braided cords past her shoulders. Elend also spotted a necklace with a black dragon sigil. The Cult of Solidor? He eyed her soul through his Silver Sight, and that confirmed his suspicions. This woman was no ordinary mana artist.

  She smiled as she approached Elend, eying him from head to heel. Then she glanced over his shoulder to address the dragons in the car, “Not to worry, General. He can’t remove those cuffs on his own.”

  She continued forward and met Elend’s eyes. “Do you know what those are, Espirian?”

  Elend let out a long breath. “Aye. I have an inkling . . .”

  “Angelic soul shards,” she said with a self-satisfied smile. “Five of them, by the looks of it.”

  He’d been afraid of that. He’d felt the cuffs’ power the first time he’d tried to break free. Each piece had a soul of its own—an energy that pushed against his mana with equal force. For all that, he hadn’t truly believed it. How had the Martials gotten their hands on the strongest material in the known universe?

  Elend turned back to the car, already knowing what happened next.

  The general raised a clawed hand and beckoned him inside. “Dragonlord Zantano would like a word.”