“Someone’s coming,” Glim said from the vent above the bed.

  Elend cracked open his eyes.”Who?”

  “That hot cultist lady. She brought two guards and a pot of coffee.”

  Ah, it must be time for Elend’s first appointment. He unwrapped his legs from the lotus position and stretched his legs, gathering mana in his palms. “How far away is she?”

  Glim vanished and reappeared in the blink of an eye. “Twenty-three paces.”

  Perfect. Elend released both Missiles from his hands, weaving pure mana with dream mana to make a wooden table and chairs near the window. Yes, he had a window now. It stretched from the floor to the ceiling, overlooking a lovely mountain range that resembled Northern Espiria.

  No sooner had he sat down at the table than someone knocked on the cell’s metal door.

  “Come in,” Elend said.

  The door opened a second later, and Lena Cavaco appeared at the threshold. She looked the same as their last meeting, with her black hair falling in a dozen braids past her shoulders. Her dress was a deep sapphire today—a dramatic contrast to her olive skin.

  Lena’s eyes widened as she stepped into the window’s bright light. Snowflakes clung to its glass surface, and the whole cell seemed to shake in the mountain wind. Behind her, the Fangs cycled their mana, shifting their feet into subtle combat stances.

  Elend’s lip quirked in amusement. Did they think he would escape out an imaginary window? He almost conjured an illusion of that exact thing, but he resisted the urge. Instead, he gestured to the wooden chair across from him. “Please, have a seat.”

  Lena glanced down at the table and chairs. “Are these real, Espirian?”

  “Well, there’s a complicated question.” The table was made of atoms like any other. Despite that, most people would still call it fake. But why? Anyone could turn a wooden table into kindling and revoke its tablehood. The idea and function mattered far more than the material in the end.

  Lena ran a hand over the offered chair, testing its weight. Then she smoothed her skirt and sat across from him. Meanwhile, a Fang stepped forward, carrying a stainless steel tray with a matching carafe.

  “I brought us some coffee,” Lena said. “But perhaps you could have made your own?”

  Elend’s smile widened as he shook his head. “We’ll go with yours. I’ve never had a knack for the culinary arts.”

  Lena nodded as the Fang poured them each a cup. The lad had relaxed by this point, but he still kept eying that window with a mix of awe and suspicion. Elend raised his glass to his mouth, inhaling faint hints of melon and chocolate.

  “Thank you, Nokon,” Lena said with a pleasant smile. “Wait for me outside, would you?”

  Both guards compiled without a word. Curious. Where did this woman fit into their hierarchy? She had the soul of an Apprentice, but also something more. It was mana, to be sure, but not necessarily mana from this world.

  Once the Fangs had left, Lena turned her gaze back to Elend. “May I see one of the cuffs?”

  Elend stretched out his left arm on the table between them. He’d kept these cuffs invisible for most of their trip, but illusions were pointless now. Keeping Glim around was a far better use of his mana.

  Lena cupped his hand in hers. Her touch was warm, but that was hardly a surprise; dragons didn’t believe in air conditioning. “I need to bond with these crystals,” she told him. “This process will take weeks, even if we work every day.”

  “Does this bonding require your full concentration?” Elend asked.

  “It’s a bit like rearranging grains of rice,” she replied. “More laborious than difficult. But I will need your help. Intention matters, and possession is a physical manifestation of that.”

  “Interesting,” he mused. “So the cuffs are on my body now, and that makes them mine. But if I consider you the rightful owner . . .”

  Lena’s eyes widened as she felt the barrier break down in her mind.

  “ . . . that will ease the transition,” Elend said.

  She smiled at him. “I do enjoy working with intelligent people.”

  Elend’s gaze shifted toward the window, and he caught Glim wagging her transparent blue eyebrows. The little scamp knew he was married, but she’d never stopped trying to be his wingman in times like this. Fortunately, he could decide who saw Glim and who didn’t. Lena might see the mana in her Silver Sight, but that wouldn’t be too suspicious. The whole window was an illusion, after all.

  They continued talking, and he learned that all five crystals would come off at once, in the presence of the Dragonlord himself. At first, Elend had worried they might remove the cuffs one at a time, but this approach made more sense in hindsight. If they removed one cuff, Elend would lose that cuff forever. But he would also regain a fraction of his power in the same moment, and that increased his odds of escaping with the other four.

  This way suited Elend just fine. He intended to leave this place with all five cuffs, after all.

  He sent more dream mana around the room, letting it flow in slow currents around the table. This was the real reason he’d made the furniture and window. Not to impress or intimidate her, but to help her get used to his mana.

  Elend leaned forward. “May I ask you a personal question?”

  Her lip twitched in a quick grin, almost too fast to see. “You may ask.”

  “You’re an Aeon, but—”

  “Aeon?” She raised an eyebrow before he could finish. “Do you even know what that word means, Espirian?” He caught a hint of weariness in her tone, as if she didn’t expect much from him.

  Elend nodded, and raised his other hand. “You have two souls, and one of them is Angelic mana. The same material as these cuffs.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Ah, so you do know.”

  Elend gave her a lopsided shrug. “Expecting a different answer? Something about aliens from a different world? To be fair, most Aeons weren’t born on this planet.”

  “Most,” Lena echoed. “But not all?”

  “That was my question,” he said. “You have an Aeon’s soul, but you’re also a mana artist. That implies you were born on this planet. How’s that possible?”

  She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Here I thought you’d ask me something interesting. Instead, you shoot straight for the age-old mystery.”

  “And that’s boring?”

  “Not boring. Just predictable. We ‘cultists’ need our secrets, Espirian.”

  Elend wove a Circuit technique with his Missiles, controlling the mana with his thoughts rather than his body. Circuits were just compound Missile techniques, but most people thought of them as an independent operation. With one hand, he sent dream mana into her head, gathering information about her thought patterns and emotions. His other hand retrieved the Missile, processing the findings in his own mind.

  Once he’d established the Circuit, Elend could, in theory, sway her thoughts to fit his own needs. But that was a dangerous game indeed. By manipulating one person, he might save his students—not to mention the millions who could die if the Dragonlord got these cuffs. But could he truly take one person’s freedom to save others? How many tyrants throughout history had used that exact logic?

  No . . . Elend had deceived and killed hundreds of enemies in battle, but he drew the line at enslaving even one person. Sometimes, he’d crossed that line in moments of weakness, but he’d always regretted it. In a way, this helped him understand Relia’s reluctance to use her powers to their fullest. It was a lifelong struggle, and the answers were rarely black and white.

  “It’s hardly a secret.” His expression revealed nothing of his inner conflict. “An Aeon and a mana artist could produce a child, and that child could have the abilities of both races.”

  “That’s a theory,” Lena said. “But it’s never been proven.” She honestly believed her own words. Well, Elend wasn’t about to confirm the so-called theory. This wasn’t his secret to share.

  “My mistake,” he said. “But you’re in your late thirties at least.” Actually, she was probably closer to her late forties, but a little flattery never hurt. “Despite that, you’re only an Apprentice.”

  Lena didn’t dignify this last comment with a response. But of course, she didn’t need to. Even in Espiria, half the adult population never made it past the Apprentice realm. People grew busy with family and work, and they had little time for training after that. Elend didn’t know Creta’s exact numbers, but he suspected that most of them never made it past the Novice realm.

  He drew in a deep breath. “I’d imagine the Cult of Solidor wanted—”

  “The Church of Solidor,” Lena corrected. “We’re not a cult.”

  “My apologies. I’d imagine the Church of Solidor wanted you for a specific purpose. There are rituals that can turn a mana artist into an Aeon. In most cases, the ritual kills the mana artist. What if you survived such a ritual, but it stalled your advancement forever?”

  Something flickered in her expression; he’d clearly hit a nerve.

  Elend waved that away. “Mere speculation, of course. I’d never ask you to confirm such a thing. But it begs the question, why do you serve them?”

  Something changed in her emotions. It was hard to put in exact words, but she clearly felt more comfortable debating religion and theology. Even her eyes seemed to light up at the subject. “Why do you serve the Angels, Espirian?”

  Elend held up his free hand. “You’re asking the wrong man. I like my gods abstract and unknowable. Too big to comprehend with my mere mortal senses. The Angels were just ordinary men and women who ascended. Last I heard, Solidor was also an ordinary man.”

  “And woman,” Lena said.

  “What?” Elend raised an eyebrow. “Was he a shapeshifter?”

  “There were two Solidors,” she said with a playful smile. “They were married, and they ascended from their world together.”

  He gave a slow nod as he sipped the last of his coffee. “I hadn’t heard that part before. So what’s the appeal?”

  “The Angels are the strongest beings in this world,” she said, “But they’re bound by rules of their own. For example, they can’t kill humans directly. The Aeons have no such restrictions here. They can make changes in ways the Angels can’t.”

  “Change things?” Elend asked.

  “Knowledge is this world’s most valuable commodity—especially when it comes to mana arts. Most Cretans don’t know how to reach Apprentice, even if they had the time and money to train. And no one but the Dragonlord’s own family knows how to reach Master. Things are the same in Espiria, no? “You’ve climbed higher than most, but I doubt you have the means to reach the Mystic realm.”

  “And Dragonlord Zantano?” he asked. “Is he part of the change you seek?”

  Elend felt a tinge of guilt from her. Yes, she knew exactly what the Dragonlord would do with these cuffs, and it wouldn’t involve spreading knowledge. If he cared about that, then why not start now, with his own nation?

  “Aye,” Elend said. “Let me guess—we need to wade through a sea of blood to reach paradise? I’ve been working to change things, too. Are you familiar with those videos on the dark web? The ones from the Espirian Grandmaster?”

  Recognition flashed in her dark eyes.

  “Aye, that was me. That’s what action looks like. Anyone can make empty promises.”

  Lena sighed. “Why do you tell me this, Espirian? Would you have me betray the Dragonlord? Give these cuffs to you instead?”

  “Of course not,” Elend said. “I’m just a professor who enjoys a hypothetical talk. Besides, I suspect you swore an oath not to betray him. Why else would he let us talk alone?”

  Another wave of guilt, as good as a confirmation.

  “I can’t say I agree with your methods,” he said, “but I’d like to meet the Solidors someday.”

  “Perhaps you will, Espirian.”

  They continued for the better part of an hour, sprinkling short conversations among longer stretches of silence. Lena grew more relaxed as she worked, and she told him more about her mysterious craft.

  All Aeons had souls of Angelic mana in their chests, but they weren’t Angels themselves. Instead, their ancestors had discovered a ritual that let them harvest small shards of the Angels’ power.

  “We call these shards Etherite,” Lena said. “Legend has it, the crystals once fell from the sky on the Solidors’ home world.”

  Priceless crystals falling from the sky? Elend had his doubts about that, but he kept them to himself.

  “And I’m an Ethersmith.” Lena put her free hand to her chest. “People like me can reshape the crystals with our minds. More specifically, we pull the Angelic mana into our souls, and release it in a new form.”

  He hummed in consideration. “How does that work?”

  “Each crystal has a repeating structure. A pattern, if you will.” She gestured from her chest to the cuff on Elend’s wrist. “I can make the cuffs’ structure align with the patterns in my soul. We call it a bond, but it’s more like . . .”

  “An extension of your soul,” Elend guessed. People said the same thing about mana, and these crystals were just another form of mana.

  She nodded. “Once the bond is made, I can break down the crystal in my own soul.”

  “Is that painful?” Elend asked. “To hold so much Angelic mana at once?”

  “The training was painful,” she said. “I had to start small, with shards no bigger than my thumbnail. But Aeon souls expand with time, not so different from a mana artist’s soul.”

  “It’s a curious thing,” Elend mused as he examined one of his cuffs. “The strongest material in the universe, broken and reshaped with a mere thought.”

  He kept asking questions, learning all he could about the mysterious art of Ethersmithing. He couldn’t break Lena’s oath to the Dragonlord, nor could he break his own once these cuffs belonged to his enemy.

  It would all come down to that final moment, when the cuffs transferred from Elend’s body to Lena's soul. And the more Elend learned about her process, the better he could control it when the time came.