Akari opened her eyes and found Relia and Kalden hovering over her. She glanced from side to side, expecting to see the rubble from the broken hotel. But this building looked untouched from the battle. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, and a jungle of potted plants lined the balcony outside. She seemed to be laying on a stiff leather sofa, while her friends sat on the wooden coffee table nearby.

How long? She tried to talk, but her throat was too dry.

“Here.” Relia uncorked a water bottle while Kalden held up the back of her head. Akari took several long swallows, washing away the taste of smoke and blood from her mouth. For a second, she dared to hope they’d escaped Creta. But then another blast erupted outside, hard enough to shake the windows and the floor.

“You were out for about twenty minutes,” Relia told her. “We carried you to an apartment two blocks away.”

Akari tried to prop herself on her elbows, but a wave of burning pain shot up from her stomach.

“Easy.” Kalden eased her back onto the cushions. “You’re still hurt.”

Akari glimpsed her body as she fell back. Her armor and shirt had been cut open across the middle, revealing her entire lower torso. Blood covered her stomach with a gaping wound in the center.

Right … Zakiel.

“Can you fix it?” she asked Relia.

The other girl hesitated, and Akari’s heart sank. “You’re out of mana?”

“No.” Relia shook her head. “I was at first—after I healed Kalden. He found me some bottles.”

Akari blew out a breath, feeling her eyelids grow heavy again. “Then what’s wrong?”

“The wound is burned shut.”

“That's—”

“Bad,” Relia stammered. “He broke your small intestine in about fifty places. I’ve been trying to fix it, but it’s not working. That’s why plasma blades are illegal back home. You can’t —”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Kalden said. “I’ve seen you heal broken bones. Your mana literally pushed bullets out of me. How’s this any harder?”

“It just is.” Relia’s voice rose, and she looked like she wanted to punch something. “It’s the same reason I can’t heal your hands. Every aspect has glitches and restrictions. This is one of them.”

Akari took several deep breaths to fight her rising panic. The idea of mana glitches might have sounded ridiculous to her yesterday. Now—with all her memories restored—she had a much better idea of how aspects worked.

Artists infused their technique into artifacts, and those artifacts fueled the aspecting ritual. This meant every aspect held pieces of knowledge mana, and those pieces weren’t so different from computer algorithms. Problems like this were inevitable.

She’d won—she’d beaten Zakiel—and now she might die anyway? She’d been ready to die in battle, but this was bullshit.

“What can we do?” Kalden asked.

“We need to get her to a real hospital,” Relia said.

The only real hospital was across the river in Unida’s territory. The Unmarked had small clinics, but the healers there were all weaker than Relia.

But everyone here knew that, so Akari didn’t waste her breath pointing it out.

“You said this problem affects all healers,” Kalden said.

Relia ran a hand through her sweaty hair. “A Master could do it.”

“There aren’t any—”

“I know,” Relia cut in. “Thanks, General Obvious.” A short silence passed, then she continued. “A lot of doctors are Knowledge Artists. They can find a solution, then tell the healers exactly what to do.”

“Makes sense.” Kalden gave an encouraging nod. “So what would these doctors say if they were here?”

“I don’t know!” Relia threw up her hands.

“Only one answer,” Akari muttered through her pain. “Break open the burns …”

“Then heal them again,” Kalden finished for her.

“That only works for surface-level burns,” Relia said. “These are internal. You’d need something precise.”

“Death mana,” Akari said.

“No. That’s the opposite of precise.”

“You once killed a drake by breaking its cervical spine,” Kalden said.

“I had nothing to lose if I messed up.”

“Your mana is slow,” he continued. “Slow mana is designed for precision work.”

“Death mana wasn’t designed at all,” Relia shot back. “It’s a side effect of life mana—a leftover from an older time.”

Relia was talking nonsense now. Hadn’t her aspect been invented a few decades ago? But they were getting sidetracked.

“Would it work?” Akari asked.

“I have no idea,” Relia said. “I just know you’d die if I messed up.”

Akari drew in a deep breath, which was no easy task with her wounds still screaming at her. “I might die anyway.”

“Might,” Relia stressed the word. “You’ll die for sure if this reaches your heart.”

“Then I won’t cycle.”

“You can’t just stop cycling. Especially not when you’re in pain.”

“Lot of practice wearing those Martial cuffs,” Akari said.

Relia let out a long breath, looking like she wanted to cry. “I couldn’t live with myself if I messed up.”

“I promise not to haunt you from the afterlife,” Akari said.

Kalden leaned toward Relia and put a hand on her shoulder. “You trusted me to make your pill. Now let us trust you.”

Relia glanced around as if she hoped to see another solution nearby. When nothing revealed itself, she cleared her nose and straightened. “Guess we don’t have a choice, huh?”

And with that, she drank all the liquid mana she could stomach. Apparently, you couldn’t stop this sort of thing halfway through. This was why hospitals kept hundreds of healers on staff as backup.

Kalden rolled up a clean kitchen towel and let Akari bite down on it. Just like in the movies. She’d always hated the healing scenes, though. Much better to skip straight to where she kissed the leading man and flew home on the airship.

At one point, Kalden found a bottle of agavo in the pantry and suggested giving her some for the pain. Akari voted yes, but Relia shot down the idea, claiming that alcohol would increase her risk of passing out. People couldn’t help but cycle when they slept, and cycling meant instant death.

Great.

Akari lay back on the pillow and squeezed Kalden’s hand. It felt like it only had three fingers, but that couldn’t be right.

“Now stop cycling,” Relia said. “Make your mana like an ice cube.”

Akari nodded once and plugged up her soul.

The next few minutes passed in a blur of pain. Getting stabbed was bad enough, but that was over in a few seconds, shrouded by a rush of adrenaline and emotion. This was nothing but pure agony twisting through her insides. Akari screamed through the cloth, bit down, and squeezed Kalden’s hand harder.

She didn’t worry about hurting him. He was an Apprentice now, and he could literally stop bullets with his skin.

When Relia finally pulled her hand away, it felt like hours had passed. She panted hard, and strands of loose red hair clung to her sweat-covered forehead.

“Azul’s ashes.” Relia collapsed back on a nearby chair.

“It worked?” Kalden asked.

She gave a weary nod. “Remind me never to question Elend again.”

Akari’s muscles softened with relief, and she brought a shaky hand to her wound. The pain was still there, but it took time for nerves to catch up with healing mana. That much, she’d learned from her foster mother.

The pain eased as she ran a hand over her stomach and found fresh skin where the wound had been. But something felt off. Her stomach wasn’t just smooth, it was completely smooth She finally sat up and took in the surreal sight.

“Where the hell’s my belly button?”

Relia gave her an annoyed look.

Akari snapped her mouth shut. “Sorry,” she said after a short pause. “This is good. Better than before, even.”

She wasn’t even lying. One less thing to clean in the shower, right? Plus, people would start all sorts of rumors about her now. Maybe they’d say she was part cyborg, or some kind of super soldier who was bred in a tank. Akari was fine with either one.

Panic replaced her thoughts a second later. If Relia couldn’t fix her belly, then what else was wrong with her? But no … her abdominal muscles had returned to their former shape, so it wasn’t like she’d been deformed. The simple answer was that belly buttons were scars, and Healing Artists couldn’t replace scars.

Akari turned toward Kalden, and she noticed his hands for the first time. He must have caught her staring because he held up both arms for her to see. His right hand had been severed off, leaving a stump on his wrist. His left hand was missing the thumb and forefinger.

Akari’s heart sank, and she wanted to punch herself for complaining about her missing belly button. No wonder Relia had looked so annoyed.

“Yeah,” Kalden said in a light tone. “That’s the last time I fight an Artisan one-on-one. At least this year.”

“Same here.” Akari tried to force out a smile.

“Stop it.” Relia’s eyes watered. “That’s not funny.”

“They have prosthetic hands and fingers,” Kalden said. “I’ll be okay once we’re back in Espiria.”

Relia just shook her head. “You two are both insane.”

Akari turned back to Kalden. In that moment, his face looked as blank and inhuman as a marble statue. Did Relia have a point? How could you lose an entire hand and be so calm? That wasn’t normal, was it?

Akari reached between them in what felt like a vast canyon, and her fingers found his again. She pulled his left hand closer and brought it to her lips, kissing the stumps where his fingers had been. She’d never been great with words, but she hoped that gesture would convey everything she felt. She wanted to show him how much she cared, and how she didn’t think any less of him now. If anything, she respected him more. It was one thing to fight as a perfect dueling machine, but it was harder to fight as a flesh and blood human with things to lose.

She wanted to kiss him for real, but the angle was all wrong, and she could barely summon the strength to stand. She met his eyes and hoped he’d take the hint. Her breath quickened, and her stomach fluttered with anticipation.

Kalden just nodded as he took his hand back. He forced out a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

That’s fine. It had been a long twenty-four hours. They’d all been through a lot, and they each had years of memories to sort through. Maybe once they reached Espiria, they could—

Someone banged on the apartment door, and a voice shouted something in Cadrian.

Akari froze, and so did her friends.

The intruder banged again, shouting something else.

“What’d he say?” Relia asked in a harsh whisper.

“They saw our mana through the wall,” Kalden whispered back.

The three of them scrambled to their feet as the Grevandi broke the door with a flaming Missile. Half a dozen dragons flooded inside the room, armed with Missile rods and submachine guns. Akari didn’t even bother looking through her SIlver Sight. Even if these guys were Foundations, she was in no condition to fight back.

“We surrender,” Kalden raised his hands, then repeated the phrase in Cadrian. Akari and Relia raised their own hands.

The leader glanced past Kalden and pointed a clawed finger toward Relia. She didn’t catch everything he said, but the phrase “Artisto Muerto” stood out.

Death Artist.

The other dragons adjusted their stances in a way that needed no translation. Akari felt her own body tense. Mana or no, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

The room held its breath for several heartbeats as each side waited for the other to move. The dragons slid their fingers toward their triggers.

Then a wave of power swept over the room, and everyone froze like statues.