Jasmine screamed as she lunged for Ogwen, bashing his skull with the rock. It shattered against his forehead as she collided with his solid frame. He shoved her. She stumbled and then hit the ground, landing on her back.

Ogwen rubbed his forehead, then look at his fingers. There wasn’t so much as a scratch on his skin.

He smirked. “Nice try, filth.” He landed a kick on her side. It sent her tumbling back. She came to a rolling stop, facing the sky. Everything around her spun. When she tried rising, her ribs smarted. She gasped, clutching the side of her chest, instinctively feeling for broken bones.

There were none.

But Ogwen was a Silver. A kick like that should have torn through her chest and out her back. And that body of his! The Ironhide Silver Body was a popular choice—she’d only hoped he hadn’t cultivated it.

Ogwen stood over her, blocking out the sun. “Stay down,” he whispered, face solemn. The girl with the long brown hair stood by him, hands on her hips. Her lips were curled in a frown, her eyes darting from Jasmine to Ogwen.

“Stand on the other side of her,” Ogwen whispered to the girl.

She hesitated before stepping over Jasmine.

Ogwen crouched, and so did the girl. They placed glowing fingers on Jasmine’s belly, close to her naval. Where her dantian should have been. “I was going to ask if you’d like me to knock you out.” Ogwen’s and the girl’s fingers brightened. Golden mist trailed from their hands. “But you tried to crack my skull with a rock.”

“Get ready,” the brown-haired girl whispered to Jasmine. She refused to look into her eyes. “This is going to sting.”

***

Ti’Lee shuffled along in the Library of Rising Sun, following the loremaster. His long white cape—embroidered with golden stars—dragged against the carpet. He was saying something, but Ti’Lee was distracted by the shouting outside. Either a bunch of rambunctious kids were playing in the park, or somebody was getting murdered.

The tall windows he passed were frosted, so he couldn’t see through them, but there was an open one up ahead, and he was dying to peer through it. If only the loremaster would hurry up! Then he could lean out the window and—

The loremaster stopped and glanced over his shoulder, eyeing Ti’Lee with narrow eyes. A thin black beard dangled from his chin. “Are you listening to me, boy? I asked you a question!”

Ti’Lee pressed his hands together and bowed at the waist. “Forgive me, honored master.” His glasses slid down his nose, but he pushed them back up. “I was . . . distracted.”

“Distracted?”

“By the,” he nodded toward the open window, “noises.”

“Hmph. Your father will hear about this.”

Ti’Lee’s cheeks burned, and he could feel the ghost of the bruise Father had given him. “Yes, honored master.”

“This is the fourth time I’ve had to repeat myself. And stand, boy! I don’t like talking to that black mop of yours.”

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Ti’Lee rose to his full height, fixing his disheveled hair.

The loremaster watched him, sorrow deepening the lines on his face. A typical expression. One Ti’Lee was used to. Which is why his mind wandered. Why did every librarian wear such ridiculous hats? The loremaster’s looked like a deflated mushroom. Would he have to wear that, once he was a scholar?

His insides shriveled at the thought. Me? A scholar? And not just any scholar. An imperial scholar.

He stifled a sigh.

Was that what he was destined to become? A royal encyclopedia? Living the dream of his father? Heavens above, there were greater things in life! But he saw no way out of this. Disobeying Father meant forsaking the family name. Lees were scholars, not spiritsmiths! To buck the trend would shake their standing in society, leaving them exposed to the assaults of their enemies.

Did he really want to do that?

The loremaster snapped his fingers in Ti’Lee’s face.

Ti’Lee jumped.

“What’s on your mind, boy?” he asked.

A scream echoed from outside—Ti’Lee nearly stumbled to the carpet. He was about to bolt to the open window, but propriety kept his shoes nailed in place. “Uh . . .” His throat was tight. “I think someone’s getting murdered.”

The loremaster waved his hand. “That is of no concern to us. Come, tell me. What is bothering you?”

The scream outside! Ti’Lee opened his mouth to respond but the old man cut him off.

“Is it the embarrassment you caused your father?”

Ti’Lee flushed, dropping his gaze. How did he know about that?

“Your father and I are close, little Lee. He told me everything.” The loremaster sighed. “Unfortunately, you cannot undo the past.” He turned around and continued shuffling along the carpeted hall. Ti’Lee followed, passing pedestals bearing the jade busts of famous scholars. “But you can shape the future, and I can help you do . . .” As the loremaster babbled, Ti’Lee glanced toward the open window. They were going to pass it soon!

The loremaster approached the open window, reaching out to close the glass panels. Ti’Lee rushed to look over the man’s shoulder.

The park was a stretch of white, feathery grass. In seconds, he spotted a nun in a green robe. She was lying on the grass near a tall aspen. Two soul artists crouched over her, clutching her wrists with glowing hands. Oh my! He was familiar enough with the Path of Rising Sun to see where this was headed.

The loremaster slammed the window shut.

“Wait!” Ti’Lee said.

The loremaster spun, tilting his chin upward and folding his hands behind his crooked back. His usual squinty eyes were growing wide, as if daring Ti’Lee to challenge him.

Ti’Lee swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. He bowed over folded hands. “Forgive me, honored master.” His voice was shaking with suppressed shock. “But those Rising Sun artists were . . .” Were they really going to harm a nun? Of all people!

“Were what?” the loremaster snapped.

“I think they were going to hurt her.” Ti’Lee straightened his back, wiping sweaty palms against his dark vest. “They were grabbing her wrists, their fingers glowing in preparation for a Summer’s Blaze technique.” At least, that’s what it looked like.

“And . . . ?”

Ti’Lee sighed, folding cold hands behind his back. “And . . . I think it would be best to help her.” He dipped his head, biting his lower lip. “But you, as my superior, know best . . .” He whispered those last words.

“And as such, I say we keep our noses out of other people’s business.”

Ti’Lee nodded, unable to lift his head, his throat tight with suppressed emotion.

“Come.” The loremaster shuffled away from the window and up the hall.

Ti’Lee moved to follow him, but looked back at the window. His pounding heart longed to rip it apart and rush to the nun’s aid. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen stronger people pick on a lesser soul, but it was the first time he’d seen them bully a nun.

“Ti’Lee!” the loremaster called after him. “Get over here. Now.”

Ti’Lee gritted his teeth. If he disobeyed the loremaster, Father would find out, and it would only add wood to the hot fire of his wrath. But what was the worst he could do? Beat him? Ti’Lee winced, touching his temple. Even with his highly regenerative Lotus-Blessed Body, pain was pain. He didn’t want a beating. Neither did he want to shame his father.

Delving into the petty squabbles of the common people would do just that.

Face hot with frustration, he trudged after the loremaster. Sweat trickled from his pits, and he grew uncomfortably hot. He wanted to loosen his collar, untuck his shirt, but the loremaster would have none of that.

The man was blathering again, but Ti’Lee found it impossible to pay attention. He couldn’t help but think of that poor nun lying there, screaming in pain as two soul artists torched her soul. How cruel! How merciless! He clenched his hands into tight fists. He could almost hear her wail in anguish. And here he was, doing nothing about it.

With every step across the carpeted hall, a little piece of his soul withered away and died.