Akari stomped out of the dueling ring, ignoring the crowd with their satisfied grins. Before today, she’d been the best Novice duelist in the whole sect. Now, her reign was over. This duel with Kalden Trengsen hadn’t been ranked, but she’d have to face him again soon. When she did, she had no way to counter his blade mana.

  Her combat suit clung to her as she walked, and her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. She’d lost duels before, but those had all been against older students. Students with Cloak techniques and seemingly endless wells of mana. Kalden Trengsen had neither of those things. Instead, he’d fought with machine-like precision, controlling every molecule of mana around him.

  More practice wouldn’t close a gap that wide. She needed an aspect.

  Akari followed the cobblestone path from her school toward the town proper. The afternoon crowds spilled off from the sidewalks, filling half the road. There weren’t many cars here, but that didn’t matter. Most houses sat within a few miles of town, and people had no trouble crossing the sect on foot.

  The sidewalk split off from the main road, winding through a forest that divided her neighborhood from the town. The forest went on for another half-mile until the path rejoined the sidewalk in her neighborhood. From there, she walked two more blocks and stepped through her front door.

  Finally.

  Dreaming about combat was all well and good, but she’d been waiting for this moment since she learned the truth about her parents. This was her chance to see her mother’s face after so many years. This was her chance to see Mazren as her real father, rather than her absent-minded foster parent.

  The wooden blinds were half-slanted inside the house, and rays of sunlight speared through the gaps. A pot of broth simmered on the stove, and the scents of soy sauce and garlic filled the air.

  Emeri slid her slender frame behind Mazren as he drained a basket of noodles in the sink. They moved in perfect synchrony as they worked, like two mana artists on a battlefield.

  Talek. It was really them.

  Mazren looked the same as he had on Arkala. But while her foster father had always seemed tired and slumped, this man looked downright lively. Not to mention more physically fit—almost like a younger version of Elend.

  She’d barely remembered her mother’s face until this moment, but now a hundred memories flooded her mind. Emeri’s dark eyes seemed to smile behind a pair of black-framed glasses. She laughed at something Mazren said, then stood on her tiptoes to kiss his ear.

  Mazren grinned back at her, putting his left hand around her slender waist. His other hand held a long pair of wooden chopsticks, arranging the noodles into three ceramic bowls. Emeri ladled the broth on top, followed by half-boiled eggs and slices of grilled pork belly.

  Dream Akari just rolled her eyes as she kicked off her boots in the doorway.

  “Hi, sweetie.” Her mother waved at her as she stepped into the kitchen. “We made your favorite.”

  Real Akari thought she might cry tears of joy, though her past self remained totally indifferent to the scene. The poor fool had no idea how short and fragile this life would be, and that dissonance almost shattered the dream like an egg. But no . . . this moment was perfect beyond words, and she never wanted it to end. So she let her present thoughts and emotions drift to the back of her mind, taking in every detail of the dream.

  Mazren finished the ramen bowls by arranging some mushrooms and chopped green onions in the corners. Akari grabbed a random bowl and headed straight toward her bedroom.

  Her father’s mana soared past her cheek as she walked, flattening into a Construct that blocked her path. She blinked as the doorway became a portal that led straight back to the dining room.

  “You know,” Mazren said. “It’s more fun to eat together.”

  Akari glared at him, stepping through the portal as if it were an ordinary doorway. Bad enough they didn’t let her aspect her mana— now her father flaunted his own aspect in her face? She slammed down her bowl on the table, sending droplets of broth on her bamboo placemat. “Can I at least change my clothes first?”

  Mazren nodded, and the portal vanished to mist behind her.

  “I’ll keep your food warm.” A transparent Missile left her mother’s hand, forming into a dome-shaped Construct over her placemat.

  Akari took her time changing out of her combat uniform, as if she could punish her parents by making them wait. Of course, her stomach growled several times, and she was obviously just hurting herself with these antics.

  The more Akari learned about her past self, the more she disliked her. The girl had a perfect life in this sect, but she didn’t appreciate it.

  And I’m supposed to sync up with her? How? By acting like a spoiled brat all day?

  A thousand years later, Dream Akari returned to the table and plopped herself down in the padded seat. Emeri waved a hand over her bowl, and time flowed backward inside the domed Construct. The steam seemed to fall rather than rise. Bubbles reformed and sank, and the oils twisted in a fast, chaotic pattern over the broth’s golden surface.

  Time mana?

  Her memories confirmed her suspicions a second later. Time artists like her mother could make pocket dimensions and freeze time at a particular moment. It was like making a save point in a video game, and that point rejoined the world when the Construct broke. She’d seen aspects like this in her earlier dreams, but only brief glimpses.

  “How was your duel?” Mazren asked.

  Akari grabbed a piece of pork belly with her chopsticks and brought it to her mouth. “Now you care about my dueling?”

  “I care about you.”

  She bit into the pork, letting the sweet and sour taste fill her mouth.

  “How’s Kalden?” Mazren asked to fill the silence. “We haven’t seen him since his family left for North Shoken.”

  “We didn’t talk much. He had a shiny new aspect though.” She took another bite. “Wonder what that feels like.”

  “We’ve been over this.” Her mother set down her chopsticks with a heavy sigh. “Aspecting is a delicate process, and—“

  “Seemed easy enough for everyone else,” Akari said. “I’m literally the last one in my grade with no aspect.”

  Mazren cleared his throat. “Most of your class has lower tier aspects.” He gestured between himself and Emeri. “Space and time are both tier four on the abstraction scale. Combining them will be an even bigger risk.”

  “Well, I didn’t ask to be your science experiment, did I?” She chewed her noodles and swallowed. “What if I just take one? What if I don’t combine them?”

  Her mother let out a long breath, leaning forward. “You’re so close, Akari. There are other space artists like your father, and there are other time artists like me. But no one has ever combined the two.”

  Akari rolled her eyes. “Maybe there’s a reason for that.”

  “There is,” Mazren agreed. “Combining two aspects is hard. You need a teacher from each original aspect. No one else in history has had your opportunities. And most people your age aren’t as patient or hardworking as you.”

  Akari matched his smile with a glare; it would take more than flattery to stop her. “How much longer?”

  “Keep training,” her mother said, “and you could do it by the time you’re sixteen.”

  “No.” Akari slammed her spoon into her bowl. “I’ll be an Apprentice by then. That’s too long.”

  “That’s the idea,” she said. “The risks decrease with every rank.”

  “Great, Then why not wait till I’m a gray-haired Mystic? Won’t that be even safer?”

  “Diminishing returns.” Her mother’s voice grew more patient with every exchange, and that seemed to piss off Dream Akari even more. “Your father and I both waited to aspect our mana.”

  “Yeah.” Akari glanced around their little house. “And look where it got you.”

  “I told you.” Mazren shot his wife a meaningful look. “We never should have painted the dining room green.”

  “I’m being serious,” Akari snapped.

  “Well,” he said, “now you know how it feels when someone goes off on an irrelevant tangent.”

  “You’re saying my dueling doesn’t matter?”

  “I believe it matters to you right now. But you’ll have this aspect for the rest of your life.”

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I lost to Kalden Trengsen today.” She met each of their eyes as if this were some earth-shattering revelation. “And he’s still a Novice like me. I can’t fight in the Apprentice leagues without an aspect. I’ll be the worst duelist there. I’ll still be behind when I go to university.”

  Mazren nodded along. “But imagining one path to success doesn’t prove it will work.”

  “Look at any famous mana artist,” Akari countered. “They all started young.”

  “Lots of mana artists started young,” he said. “But ninety percent of Mystics aspected in their late teens. They weren’t child prodigies. They were people who faced hardship and conquered it. That’s what we’re trying to teach you.”

  “Ninety percent,” Akari echoed. “You’re making that up.”

  “The Koreldon Journal of Advancement,” Emeri said with a smile. “Page twenty-two, paragraph one.”

  Mazren held up his napkin and pointed it toward the coffee table in the living room. His mana moved in a Circuit technique, and the journal appeared in his hand a second later. Akari knew the napkin would be on the coffee table now. Space techniques had a high mana cost, but you could reduce that cost by altering fewer parameters. That meant it was cheaper to swap two similar objects.

  He set down the journal in front of her, opening it to the page her mother had mentioned.

  “You’re angry because you lost a duel,” her mother said. “We don’t make life-altering decisions when we’re angry.”

  “Then when?” Akari said. “You know I could handle a single aspect right now. Either space or time. We have all the artifacts in the house. If you just show me how—“

  “When you’re sixteen,” her mother said. “And if our theory is right, then space and time are intertwined. Your new aspect will be stronger than both of ours combined.”

  “Doesn’t help me today,” Akari said. “What’s the point of being stronger if I have to wait forever?”

  “This aspect will help you succeed in life.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t want to end up like you. Ever think of that?”

  Her mother sighed. “Can you trust us, Akari? Can you trust that we know what’s best for you?”

  “No.” Her chair skitted against the wooden floor as she pushed it back. “You don’t trust me, so why the hell should I trust you?”

  ~~~

  Akari opened her eyes and found herself lying in the women’s barracks. She rolled over on her back, breathing hard. She hadn’t been stabbed this time, but the dream came with its own rush of emotions.

  “Dream Akari, you ungrateful little bitch . . .” Tears stained her pillow, and more ran down her cheeks. With Talek as her witness, she would give up her mana arts right now if she could go back to that moment.

  Her parents had taken care of her in that life and given her the tools she needed to succeed. And if their theory was right, then spacetime mana might be one of the strongest aspects in the world.

  But her past self hadn’t seen that. She’d lost one stupid duel, and she’d acted like Storm’s Eye was bringing the whole sect down around her ears. She had no idea how bad things could truly be.

  Akari lay there for several long heartbeats, but she didn’t feel like sleeping again. Instead, she grabbed her clothes and headed for the rooftop to train. Her mother was dead, but Mazren was still alive, trapped in a world that wasn’t his own.

  I’m coming back for you. No matter what it takes.

  ~~~

  Kalden stepped through the halls of Last Haven High School, trying not to feel too out of place in this strange new world. He’d spent the past few years in North Shoken with his family, visiting the various blade sects, and honing his techniques. In all that time, he’d never set foot in a public school. His parents hadn’t seen the point until now, when they finally had their own affairs to keep them busy.

  Of course, Kalden’s father still found time to lecture him for his sloppy performance in yesterday’s duel. Grandmaster Trengsen had watched the recording, and he claimed that Akari Clifton had no discipline or finesse. Never mind the fact that she’d gotten dangerously close to him in the end; apparently, that was all Kalden’s fault for stooping to her level.

  But his father was right, if only from a technical perspective. Akari was wild and unpredictable, and her antics were no substitute for traditional training. Her audacious risks had nearly paid off yesterday, but they would still fail nine times out of ten.

  For all that, Kalden couldn’t stop thinking about her. Old memories rose to the surface of his mind—memories of simpler days, when they’d trained together in his backyard. He’d actually had fun back then. For a few precious moments, he’d forgotten the burden of his bloodline and the expectations placed on his shoulders.

  His teachers would have called those moments a waste of time, but Kalden’s results said otherwise. He’d pushed past several mental blocks during those sessions. Not by training harder, but by tapping into greater. A resonance deep within his soul, too strange and powerful to put into words.

  What if he could rekindle that feeling again? What if they could help each other succeed?

  Kalden rounded a corner and found Akari standing in front of her locker. She wore a simple black hoodie and jeans, with her dark hair covering one eye. His heart beat faster at the sight of her, and sweat prickled his palms. Was he nervous? That didn’t make any sense. It was just a friendly conversation, and the worst she could do was reject his offer.

  Akari glared at him as he approached—a far colder reception than he’d received the day before. He couldn’t blame her, though. She’d been the school’s reigning champion before their last duel. And while people spoke of proper sportsmanship between mana artists, his peers were rarely as stoic as they pretended.

  Back in North Shoken, people would smile and bow to your face, then plot to sabotage you behind your back. They frowned upon public displays of emotion, and they wouldn’t hesitate to use such weaknesses against you. Meanwhile, Akari represented the exact opposite of that world. She wasn’t afraid to show her emotions, even blatant anger or envy. She didn’t care about the rules of social conduct, or what people thought of her.

  “What do you want?” Akari retrieved a textbook from her locker and raised an expectant eyebrow.

  Kalden cleared his throat. “Sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if you’d like to train together again?”

  “Thanks, but I already know how to hit a punching bag.” She rolled her eyes and looked ready to walk away. But then a flicker of curiosity crossed her face. “Can you help me learn an aspect?”

  “An aspect?” Kalden had prepared for several questions, but not that. “Don’t your parents have something lined up for you?”

  “Forget it.” She shut her locker and stomped off down the hall.

  Kalden jogged to catch up with her, dodging several of their fellow students along the way. She’d revealed something important with her last question, and he’d blundered right past it. Know what your opponent wants, and the battle is half won. Akari wasn’t his opponent in this case, but the same basic principle applied.

  “I’ll tell you a secret,” he said. “Aspects are overrated.”

  “Sure.” Akari kept her eyes forward. “Says the kid with the best aspect in school.”

  “I’m serious. I only aspected half my mana.”

  “Good for you. So does everyone else around here.”

  “And I train with the pure half all the time,” he continued. “It’s the best way to learn. Blade mana has a strong knowledge component. It guides your movements and makes you better than you really are. But a true blade artist works to remove those imperfections the hard way.”

  Akari snorted. “You must be fun at parties.”

  He blinked at the sudden change of topic. “What does that even mean?”

  “Means you sound like someone’s dad.”

  That stung, mostly because it was true. Kalden spent most of his time with his instructors, and he had no idea how to talk to kids his own age. But persistence was a powerful tool, and he wouldn’t back down that easily. “I can teach you how to beat a blade artist like me. Without aspecting your mana.”

  Akari waved that away. “Save it for someone who cares.”

  He deflated at that. So much for the battle being half won . . . he’d never really agreed with that quote, anyway. But Akari clearly wanted to improve her combat skills, so why would she refuse his offer? He’d already demonstrated his skills to her in yesterday’s duel. His juniors back in North Shoken would have jumped at the chance to train with him one-on-one.

  Then again . . . what if she thought he was patronizing her right now, rather than approaching her as an equal?

  “Wait.” Kalden quickened his pace and blocked her path. “Here’s the truth.”

  Akari folded her arms and waited.

  “I miss training with you,” he said. “I learned a lot from you back when we were neighbors. I know you’re a different person now, but . . .” He hesitated, feeling the unfamiliar weight of vulnerability in his words. People didn’t admit things like this back in Shoken, but he already felt more alive—the same way he’d felt yesterday when they’d dueled. “My skills are plateauing, and I think we could help each other again.”

  “Why me?” She furrowed her brow. “Was this your parents’ idea?”

  “No.” Kalden frowned. “Why?”

  “I heard you do whatever they say.”

  “Yeah . . . guess that’s one thing I need to work on.” Of course, Kalden had no plans to defy his parents, but those rumors hinted at a deeper problem that plagued many of the world’s top duelists. He might be the most skilled Novice in the school, but he was also predictable. Over time, the other students would adjust their techniques to counter his. Kalden wouldn’t hold the top spot for long if he couldn’t adapt.

  They stood in silence for a long while. Other students pushed past them in the crowded hallway, and more than a few people shot curious glances their way. Kalden kept his gaze steady, willing her to see the sincerity in his eyes.

  Akari tapped her fingers on the front of her textbook, then gave a lopsided shrug. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

  ~~~

  Kalden opened his eyes and blinked up at the wooden rafters. These dreams were far more vivid than most, and it always took him a minute to adjust back to the present.

  The air had been cool in Last Haven, with a thin blanket of snow covering the grass. The school’s bright hallways had bustled with students, with the sound of a dozen conversations echoing all around him. Meanwhile, darkness shrouded the men’s barracks in Tureko, and several large fans drowned out the snoring of his fellow rebels. The mattress felt uncomfortably hot beneath his bare skin, and he had no trouble prying himself away.

  Kalden grabbed his backpack and headed for the mess hall to record this latest dream. Emotions ran wild through his head as he walked, clinging far more stubbornly than any physical sensation.

  His younger self had clearly been attracted to Akari. That was obvious in hindsight, but he hadn’t wanted to admit it. Maybe he’d been too naive to understand, or maybe he’d been in denial.

  In fact, Kalden might still be in denial right now.

  He’d always thought Akari was cute, from that very first meeting in Elegan High. And despite her prickly nature, she’d always brought out the best in him. The of him that part that took action rather than overthinking every choice and possibility. The part that let go of rules and expectations, and did what needed to be done.

  Back on Arkala, he’d banished any thoughts of romance from his mind. A Bronze and a Gold was simply too big of a scandal, and it would have caused endless trouble for them both. Even back in Last Haven, nothing had ever developed between them. They’d trained together once, but then Emberlyn Frostblade had asked him out, and that was that.

  But now . . . what was stopping them from being together? What if this was finally an option?

  Did Akari feel the same way about him? Knowing her, she didn’t understand her own feelings half of the time. That meant Kalden had exactly zero chance of figuring them out.

  That left just one viable tactic: he’d have to ask about the subject outright. But he’d wait until after they escaped Creta. The last thing they needed right now was more drama.