PRESENT DAY

Akari leapt forward, shooting a Missile from her palm to intercept the manaball. The ball bounced and spun around the court, striking the glass walls and ceiling. Her eyes tracked its path, and her muscles vibrated as she cycled, ready to unleash more techniques at a second’s notice.

A disc of floating protection mana cut the court in two, eighteen feet in diameter, with four-foot gaps on every side. Holes filled the disc like a giant slice of cheese, and those holes constantly shifted as the disc spun. Beyond the disc sat her opponent’s three goals. Those also moved in random patterns, forcing her to make quick choices on the spot.

Akari shot the ball with another burst of mana, and it flew straight through the disc’s lowest hole. Relia moved in a blur, striking the ball with her mana, sending it in a wild spin. The spin looked random at first, but it flew around her goals like a boomerang, soaring straight through the divider.

Damnit, why’d she have to be so good at everything?

“Don’t get cocky,” Elend had said the day before. “You got lucky with Dragon Lad, but you’ll still get your ass kicked in the Artegium.”

She’d walked away from that fight with a sword in her stomach, so she’d hardly call that luck. Still, Akari saw his point. Relia could still beat her at most games, even without her aspect or her strength.

Akari threw another Missile. This time, instead of striking the ball head-on, she applied subtle pressure to the center of her mana, forming a shell like cupped hands. The ball slowed, then she yanked her mana back.

It landed in Akari’s hands a heartbeat later. She spun back toward her opponent and lined up her shot through the divider’s top hole. It flew faster than a sprinting raptor, and she shot two more Missiles with it, moving them in a corkscrew pattern to form a protective barrier.

The shot itself had been perfect, and it soared straight for her opponent’s goal.

Too bad she’d telegraphed her moves. No sooner had the ball passed through the disc than Relia shot a grand total of five Missiles at the ceiling. They looked like tiny bullets, and they hit just as hard.

Akari’s corkscrew broke into blue mist. The next second passed in a blur as the ball rebounded off the glass ceiling and onto the concrete floor. Relia didn’t even bother catching it. Instead, she hurled it back through the divider with a sudden burst from her palm. Akari tried to stop it, but the spin threw off her aim. Her own Missiles struck empty air, and the ball slammed into her goal.

An annoying ding sounded from the speaker up above, followed by a burst of dream mana shaped like golden sparks and confetti. Relia’s score changed from forty to fifty, and the victory music followed.

Akari slowed her cycling and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She’d only scored two goals this game, but that was still better than yesterday. Yesterday, she’d scored exactly one goal per game, and Relia had handed her each one with wrapping paper and a bow.

Relia pressed a button on her side of the court, and the divider and goals faded to mist. They were obviously done for now, so Akari retrieved the ball, opened the cupboard, and returned it to its place. Various other balls and equipment filled the surrounding shelves, probably for other games she’d never even heard of.

She’d never been into sports before this week—they’d always seemed so fake next to a good old-fashioned duel. But Elend had warned them about the Artegium’s admission exams. Apparently, the judges wanted you to think on your feet, and shit hit the fan during the shaping portion. Dueling alone wouldn’t prepare her for that level of chaos. And with the new school semester coming up, she’d need all the help she could get.

Relia stared at her shoes as she crossed the court.

“What’s up?” Akari said. “No cheers or victory dances?”

“I thought you hated my victory dances.” The other girl met her eyes with a reassuring smile. A month ago, Akari couldn’t tell the girl’s fake smiles from her real ones. Now, the difference was clear as glass. The fake smiles came out like mana techniques—forming in a single burst of energy, and fading to mist just as quickly.

They slid open the glass door and stepped out into the cloudy afternoon air. It was always cloudy here in Koreldon. As if it wanted to rain but could never muster the effort.

Akari rolled her eyes as they walked down the concrete path toward the house. “Wanna skip to the part where you tell me what’s wrong?”

There was a short pause while Relia fidgeted with her red braid. For Talek’s sake. She better not be introducing a love triangle to their group. More drama was the last thing they needed.

Akari unscrewed the lid of her canteen and took a long drink of liquid mana, letting the cool mint flavors dance in her mouth. The Darklight’s had a near-endless supply of this stuff, and Akari had taken full advantage of that.

“Don’t forget to drink water,” Relia said in her mom voice. “Your body can’t hydrate itself on mana.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Akari said.

Relia sighed and spent a few more seconds fidgeting with her braid. “I saw my doctor today.”

Akari stopped drinking and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Bad news?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know. But the alchemist finished a new batch of pills, so that’s good.”

“How long do you have?”

Relia’s eyes moved from her shoes to the gray sky above “I have until late Hexember to reach Artisan. The pills won’t be enough after that.”

Talek. You needed a minimum of 3200 mana for Artisan, and Relia’s number sat just under 2200. That meant she needed to gain another thousand mana points in just half a year. What was that? Five and a half points per day?

You could train that hard in theory—they’d done it in Creta just last week. But they’d also burned out their channels for several days afterward. Akari and Relia were just now getting back into their daily training, and Kalden hardly left the pool house these days.

Back on Arkala, she’d assumed she’d be unstoppable with the right resources. But she’d gotten a dose of reality since then. School started in Quadromber, and she probably wouldn’t reach Apprentice in time for her first classes.

Akari didn’t say this out loud, of course. Not reaching Apprentice was nothing compared to the looming threat of death. Then again, she was no stranger to high stakes. Thousands of people were trapped in the Archipelago because of her, and they’d stay there if she didn’t get stronger.

Their route took them past several gardens and outdoor dojos. They stopped at the front of the house where a massive swimming pool stretched out in front of a covered patio.

Akari glanced up at the three-story house and the web of vines that covered its stone exterior. “Do Mom and Dad have any ideas?”

Relia chuckled at the joke, but her smile faded just as fast. “Nothing worth trying”

That meant Elend or Irina had probably suggested soulshine to advance quicker. But of course Relia would never try that. Not when soulshine had gotten her into this.

“We’ll think of something,” Akari said. Sure, the math didn’t add up for either of them yet, but since when did she ever follow the rules? A month from now, they’d be studying in the world’s best Mana Arts university, facing stronger opponents than they’d ever faced before.

You couldn’t ask for a better training ground than that.

~~~

Kalden sat on a cushioned black bench, flexing the fingers on his prosthetic hand. A week had passed since he’d lost his real hand, and the sight of this turned his stomach to ice every time he glanced down.

It’s temporary, he reminded himself. I’ll be back on track soon.

Master by twenty-one.

The prosthetic hand was over ninety percent mana, aside from the titanium base that connected with his wrist. Master-level sigils covered the base’s entire surface, shaping the mana into bones and muscles. Other sigils processed the signals from his brain and passed back the sensory information.

He’d still managed basic tasks over the last few days. He could shower, eat, write his name, or type on a keyboard. The prosthetic sent his brain general impressions of textures, but that didn’t compare to feeling them on his own skin. Rather, it was like having someone describe sensations to him.

Worst of all were the phantom pains. Sometimes, his missing hand would burn the same way it had against that Artisan in Creta. It was a pain he couldn’t escape—the harder he tried, the more his body panicked. In these moments, Kalden scrambled to recall his meditation training in Shoken.

“Never ignore the pain,” his teacher had told him. “This sends your brain the wrong message. It says the pain is worthy of fear. But if you give it your full attention, your brain will move on.”

The technique worked, but only with constant effort. The burning still surprised him several times throughout the day, leaving him gasping for breath and covered with sweat.

Only temporary.

Kalden shifted his gaze from his hand to the massive glass window beside him. This office sat on the seventh floor of KU’s College of Healing, and he had a full view of the campus below. The buildings looked centuries old with ornamental facades, domed rooftops, and stone spires. Cobblestones filled the spaces below, and higher walkways stretched between the taller structures. Some looked like covered bridges, while others resembled castle battlements.

Relia had already given them a tour of the campus, but it was too vast to see in a single day. The university itself went on for miles, and that was just for the main colleges. Beyond that, it was hard to tell where the school ended and where Koreldon City began. The school had over twenty-thousand students, and they all needed places to live and places to eat. Not to mention all the bars, bookstores, and alchemy shops.

The door creaked open across the room, and Irina Darklight stepped inside. Elend’s wife wore a white alchemy coat over a black blouse and a charcoal skirt. Her narrow face had an olive complexion, and lines of silver streaked her dark hair.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Trengsen,” she said as she approached the exam table. The woman was clearly of Cadrian heritage, but she spoke with a northern Espirian accent.

“Grandmaster Darklight,” Kalden said with a polite bow.

Irina raised her right hand, and released a golden Missile technique. It was a simple gesture, but it still sent a spike of jealousy through him. The mana expanded to form a set of intricate rings around her upper body.. Each ring resembled a string of storage compartments, and each compartment held thousands of smaller parts.

Kalden’s eyes widened as hundreds of small Missiles moved between the parts. “What is this?”

“A Second Brain,” she said.

“Is that a Knowledge Artist technique?”

She nodded, never prying her eyes from the rings. “Each ring is a multidimensional Array, and each Array contains a Matrix.”

Kalden strained his memory to recall those terms. Mana Artists on Arkala hadn’t known anything this advanced, but he’d definitely heard them in his previous life. Arrays and Matrices were just advanced types of Constructs. And each type could … hold other Constructs? His memory was fuzzy on that part. They’d never been relevant to him as a Blade Artist.

“I’m guessing only a Master can make this?” Kalden asked as his eyes took in the detail. A few weeks ago, he and Akari had struggled just to form simple shapes. This was infinitely more complex than that.

“Good guess, but it’s simpler than it looks.” She waved a hand and enlarged one of the rings. The majority of the technique faded as she highlighted a single cell. Was “cell” even the right word here? Once again, it had been years since he’d learned these terms.

“Arrays aren’t like ordinary Constructs,” Irina said. “There’s a code of sigils woven into each portion.These sigils write a recipe, sort of like DNA. Form a clear mental modal of these sigils, and the technique practically builds itself. Then the Array duplicates your work thousands of time.”

The other portions lit up around the Array to illustrate her point.

Did she seriously just call this simple, and then compare it to DNA? It made some sense, though. Back when Kalden was a Blade Artist, many of his techniques had worked in a similar fashion. But in that case, the “code” came from his aspect rather than his own mind.

“But you didn’t come here for lessons, Mr. Trengsen.” Irina met his eyes as the rings snapped back into position. “I’ve reviewed your case, and I’d say you’ve got two real options.”

Her Second Brain faded to reveal two images made of dream mana. But unlike Elend’s perfect illusions, these looked more like holograms. Each image showed a different set of hands. The first pair was flesh and blood. The second pair showed a right hand made entirely of blue mana, along with a matching thumb and index finger on the left hand.

“Option one.” Irina pointed to the image on Kalden’s left. “We use your DNA to regrow your missing hands and fingers.”

Kalden let out a long breath, but he didn’t get his hopes up just yet. If it were that easy, there wouldn’t be two options.

“What’s the catch?” he asked.

“Channels exist metaphysically inside a human body. And we have no idea how to regrow them. In short, your channels will end at your forearm, and you’re mana won’t break through the new hand.”

Kalden felt his shoulders sag. “And option two?”

Irina gestured to the second image. “We can build you some better prosthetics out of mana. These would integrate fully with your body, which means improved senses and dexterity. More importantly, they’d come with physical channels for your body’s mana to pass through. The same way mana can pass through a sword.”

Kalden took several deep breaths, letting the rush of information wash over him. He’d spent some time researching this subject on his own, so these options weren’t a complete surprise. He’d just hoped Irina could make it easier somehow.

“What about when I reach Artisan?” Kalden asked. “Won’t my body make new channels through the flesh and blood option?”

“It will,” she agreed. “But those new channels will be Foundation level at best. That means weaker shaping than most Artisans.”

“That won’t matter once I reach Master.”

Her smile went from sympathetic to amused. “How fast do you plan on advancing, Mr. Trengsen?”

Kalden knew better than to say that out loud. Especially when he and the others still lacked a concrete plan.

“I was twenty-two when I reached Artisan,” she said. “And thirty-five when I reached Master. I did that with every advantage that you have now.”

“I know it won’t be easy,” Kalden said. “But I’m trying to be patient. Focusing on the future rather than short-term gain.”

“A one-handed Blade Artist won’t get far in the Artegium. You’re in denial if you think you’re the exception.”

“Wow,” Kalden said. “Straight for the heart.”

She gave a thin smile. “Do you think I’m desperate for more business, Mr. Trengsen?”

One look at her house was enough to answer that question. Even the pool house where Kalden slept was bigger than Akari’s old foster home.

“Knowledge Artists like me don’t give you the answer you want. We give you the answer you need. The fact is, you’ll never be the champion duelist you were before. That time is gone, and you need to accept where you are now.”

“I’d prefer to regrow the fingers on my left hand,” Kalden said after a short pause. At least this way, he’d have one complete hand.

Irina flicked a finger and sent some mana into her Second Brain. It joined several other tiny Missiles, moving through the Array like neurons. “And your right hand?”

Kalden considered that. Irina’s arguments made logical sense, but they also felt like admitting defeat and settling for less. That went entirely against the way he’d been raised.

“Can I think about it?” he asked.

“Think all you want, Mr. Trengsen. But both options will take time.”

“How long?”

“At least a month.”

Kalden winced. So Relia could heal wounds with a snap of her fingers, but the Artegium’s Healing Program took a month to make a new hand? He almost asked why, but he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.

His admissions were thirty-seven days away. That meant he’d be at a disadvantage no matter which option he chose.

“Can I pass the shaping tests with only one good hand?” Kalden asked.

“I asked my husband the same question, and he says you have a chance. But that’s only the admission exams.” She gestured back to the floating images between them. “Whatever option you pick, you’ll never make it as a Blade Artist. That aspect requires impeccable shaping skills. Even at Master, you’ll always be at a disadvantage.”

“You’re saying my case is hopeless?”

“No, Mr. Trengsen. I’m saying you need to find a new aspect.”