Out of hundreds of attempts, Anemone stood at zero points against Kinler. The agent-general held a still form, holding a large sword with only a single hand. Yet, every stab or slash, Kinler promptly shrugged them off. Kinler, teasing in his stance and approach to defending himself, seemed more and more impossible to beat after every attempt.

Kinler slashed, Anemone’s sword almost slipped from her hand, though by not letting it go, her body lashed with the momentum, pulling her off her feet.

He said I would improve over time, Anemone thought, standing up again. There was little time for breaths. She rushed in again, and on a swing from Kinler’s sword, Anemone reacted quickly enough; she knew how to defend against this particular blow.

The problem was imprecision.

Metal clank as her sword as the blow landed on the side, where it should have hit the gelguard over the edge. Her sword then thumped her on the head. Anemone looked up at Kinler with annoyed eyes, as for some reason or the other, the general held Anemone’s blade pinned to the top of her head.

Kinler grinned, lifting his sword, shooing Anemone back to try again.

Everything she tried that was new always seemed to give her a better chance, allowing her better—though continuously unsuccessful—shots at winning. But every time she repeated a method, Kinler adjusted himself for it. When he’d said she would improve along the way, she didn’t expect him to as well.

While he gave himself handicaps, he didn’t hold back anywhere else. He hit as hard as he was allowed to; he’d said so himself. Kinler did not want to lose, even to an amateur with only a few days of practice.

Anemone charged again after a short rest. Her vision heightened, shifting the lowly lit barn in a much darker light.

The empty barn had odd footing, hay on hard soil. They had cleaned the smelly brown paste before beginning, and the six lanterns in the room gave them all the light they needed. The cow lay in his stall, disturbed by their ruckus. But the flames inside the glass started to dim, and the only light outside was moonlight.

Perhaps it was the extra time she had to breathe beforehand, but she felt instinctive, more attentive than usual.

Kinler swung his sword once again as she approached. She’d discovered that with his longer reach, his first strike was rarely ever not going to be there. So, Anemone had to go in expecting that. To be offensive, she had to prepare her defense.

Anemone yanked her sword up, and twisted just in time to hold her sword steady, crossing blades to a t. Her first fear was that her sword would fall back onto her, but she had her sword firm on impact. The angle Kinler swung into Anemone’s sword was thwarted, and Anemone blocked the blow, gelguard pressed against the sharp edge of Kinler’s blade.

But such a minor victory meant nothing if not capitalized.

Finally, Anemone thought, adrenaline pumping through her. She rolled her shoulder into Kinler, her sword glided down the blade, the tip on its way to the agent general’s heart. His sharpened edge spliced a thin slab of her gelguard as she drove in—

But Kinler moved, breaking one of his initial promises, sidestepping—with both feet—and evading her strike. Anemone, furious, stared daggers at Kinler.

But the agent general grinned. “That’s enough for today. You’ve passed one pre-test requirement. All that’s left is the single-handed one, and you’ll be ready to take the true challenge.”

Anemone frowned. But, after a short thought, she smiled.

“That’s not the reaction I usually get,” Kinler said. Disappointed in tone, like he wanted something more out of her. “What gives?”

“I passed?” Anemone asked. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Well, you thought you were going to win, didn’t you?”

“Yes, and I passed. Isn’t that the same?”

“In a way…” Kinler said. “It’s a stalling tactic meant to add fuel to the fires of promising warriors. By splitting the exercise into sections, we cover more ground in a way that feels progressive, like a journey.”

Anemone figured what Kinler meant by that. The training felt like a story, and Anemone started at point A and would end at point B. Or, in the case of segments, she arrived at point b and was now on her way to point c.

“You’re doing well,” Kinler said. He sheathed his sword, signaling the end of the training. Well, that might be for the best. Anemone was tired, and the ride from Soucrest to Dorgen—the town nearest the eastern border—was long and tedious and every bit exhausting. Tomorrow, they would take that same route back. Kinler started killing the lantern lights one by one. “You are not hopeless with the sword, which is good.”

“You trained people like me before?” Anemone said. Kinler looked at her through the shadows. The barn cow snored behind him. “Then, how did I do compared to them?”

“In a session with a Color or any other young warrior, it usually takes until the end of the first night before they passed one of the pre-tests. So far, with our limited time, it took you two-and-a-half.”

She frowned.

“Oh, so that upsets you? They trained their entire lives to earn the right to undergo my training. My students are usually older than you, with ten or so years of either sports or swordwork like policing or guarding. You’ve had a week. The fact that it took you two days to accomplish anything that took them one says more about you than any of them.

“I expected ten days,” he resumed killing the lights. “But then again, you in two days squeezed more reps than they could manage in four.”

“And is that good?”

“Fairly,” Kinler said. “Don’t worry too much about your progress. Like most skills, you gain the most proficiency at the beginning. Then, your progression slows to a plateau. My goal is to get you to that point by the time the agency starts operating.”

Anemone nodded. They entered Meru’s home, greeted rather than shunned. Like all Dork citizens, they were hesitant, but they actually welcomed her back. The house, however, was small, so they had to sleep on the ground with soft paddings of blankets underneath. Still, they were more comfortable than the bunk beds she once had to endure.

A few days after they returned to Falcon Hill, the agency would officially begin, and Kinler could no longer focus on her alone. There would be others who needed his aid. Apparently, all of the agents had a little bit of a niche. None of them were Colors, but Kinler said that one of the agents could pass all three sections of his test in a half session’s time.

Then there were others, an archer to name one. Kinler didn’t say much about him, but that was because he knew himself little about him. One had a gun, though Anemone wasn’t quite sure what a gun was. That was the weapon that you loaded something into it, and it launched out, right?

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

No, that is the bow. But if that is the bow, then what is the gun again?

Two others had their own blades, bringing the count, four swords to two not-swords. Everyone seemed to have a gimmick that went with them. One, Kinler said, used two swords instead of one, the other a sword almost as tall as Anemone.

But Anemone, her gimmick was her blood. She looked at her hand, the scar was there, but the wound wasn’t. It healed so fast…

“How do I learn more about my blood?” Anemone asked.

Kinler grunted. He rolled around through his blankets, disturbed. Oops. “You gotta start using it.”

“Should I practice using it during your test?”

Kinler cringed, shaking his head. He didn’t want to face it. “You gotta start discovering it by yourself. I’m sure we could find some way to study it, but you would have to drive that mission forward. I don’t intend on dissecting you to figure it out for you.”

“So, where should I start?”

“Think first of its limitations,” Kinler said. “It feels like a muscle? Well, flex it, see how far or how in control of that muscle you really are. It can pull things together, well, can it push things apart?”

She hadn’t considered that possibility. Her experience with her blood was, well, when it shed from her in crucial moments. It was much easier to rely on her blood over her skills with the sword when defending Dork City. But then, Corden had stripped her of any choice in the matter.

My blood can kill, Anemone thought first of its known capabilities. Then, she looked at the scar on her hand. “Maybe it can heal.”

“We already know that,” Kinler said.

“I mean others,” she said. “What if I could heal others through my blood?”

The irritation of Kinler’s face seemed to vanish. Before, he was obviously tired and cranky, but now he seemed intrigued.

“We’ll test your blood when we get back,” Kinler said. “I don’t know if your blood even has a type, but if it has the right one, you may be onto something great. But for now, for the love of the Gem God, get some rest.”

Anemone breathed in the dark atmosphere that was her subconscious. The dark plain would be so lonely if not for the light emitting off of her skin. The Gem God illuminated the realm a little brighter than her, though, with his glow piercing through the white clothes he wore.

“So?” the Gem God hovered in front of her. He had a deep grin that reeked of satisfaction. “You’re doing well, according to the Blue Bladesman.”

This part of her mind always bogged her when she first arrived. There was a shift of memory, and the more she experienced here, the more she lost when waking up in the real realm. Every morning felt like she had a dream she couldn’t quite remember.

But coming to her subconscious, this was the opposite effect.

Oh right, a god is inhabiting my head! That was usually her first thought, followed by what they did the night before. And truthfully, it wasn’t much anymore. They just sat around, doing nothing. Sometimes they talked; others, he was as silent as a rock.

Blood sat in a human form that looked nearly identical to the Gem God’s. They couldn’t float, nor did they have the same glowing skin. They were a part of the floor, and in a way, they occupied her mind more so than the god.

“Untalkative today, aren’t we?” the god asked.

“Oh,” Anemone lifted her head. Her thoughts drifted. “Yeah, I’m doing okay, I believe.”

“That’s good,” the Gem God said. He spoke, but Anemone mostly wondered about his power. For being a god, he sure regarded Blood with fear. Ever since that incident where Blood grabbed him, he floated a little higher off the ground. “You know, I once thought choosing you was a mistake. Now, I’m only unsure.”

“That’s motivating,” Anemone said.

“And you’ve developed sarcasm!” he laughed.

Sarcasm? Anemone thought. Of course, I know that long, letter clustered word I’ve never seen or heard or read before.

“Why the long face? I’m complimenting you…”

“What do you want from me?” she asked. It was tiring figuring out what her purpose was anymore. At first, it’d been to flee Dormoor and head to Soucrest. She did that, and now she felt like she was coasting. There seemed to be no objective anymore. “What do we do next?”

“You do what you’ve been doing, training, getting closer with the Soucrest king and his people. War is coming, Anemone, and I’m starting to fear more than just Aidan.”

“What? I thought Aidan was your enemy number one?”

The god frowned, hovering a little closer, eying Blood as he flew in to meet her in the eyes. “I don’t know what, I don’t know who, but there’s something dangerous out there. Something I fear has as much power as me. I’m a god, and I fear what I do not know.”

What? Anemone hesitated. The Gem God had a fragility to him. Questions often upset him whenever it regarded his power.

“I’m young, human. Only eight hundred years old. There was a presence before me; there had to be. Before I existed, somebody else wrote the rules. I’ve only created a piece of divinity, but I fear another exists. And whoever it is, they are older than me and much more wiser. And they want my power for themselves.”

“They want it back? What did you do, steal it?” Anemone asked.

The Gem God groaned. She’d seen him angry but never stressed. “Your world is many times older than me. When I took power, I harnessed something even more powerful than what ruled before. I’ve ascended past a presence, be it a singular person or a group, I don’t know. But someone else before me cultivated the world to be a certain way, and if they still exist, they likely still are.”

“I don’t understand,” Anemone said.

“I’m attached to your subconscious now,” the Gem God said. “My only release now is in the case of your death. Your mind is my prison, and your lifespan is my sentencing.” He pulled out the amulet under his shirt, and the blinding light of his power shone, blinding both Anemone and Blood’s eyes. “I am less god than this amulet is almighty. It can create matter from nothing, resurrect the dead back to life, and change the Laws of the Universe.

“Before you—before me, even—it was possible to Soulsmith a human. When I first ascended, I changed that law preventing such abominations from being created. No offense. I’m afraid people like those still exist after all these years, alive before my existence and alive during it. They likely aren’t immortal, neither am I, but they might never age.”

“Never age? Like never grow old? What about me?” I’m Soulsmithed too.

“Your Soulgem inside you will likely suspend your growth by the time you reach your body’s prime. At that point, your body will stop aging to prevent decay.”

She shivered, coldness rolling over her like a wave. I won’t age past a certain point?

“So wait, if my lifespan is forever, doesn’t that mean you’re trapped here forever?” Anemone asked.

The Gem God frowned. “Not necessarily. I have a way out I can provide myself…”

Anemone gasped; she crawled backward. Blood looked at her, and they suddenly realized it was well. It was how he had first threatened her when entering her mind. I can kill you anytime, he had said.

Blood stood up from the floor, but with his amulet in his hand, the Gem God didn’t look a tiny bit afraid this time.

I can’t let him take you, Blood said, speaking to her mind. The voice always caught her off guard.

“Don’t,” Anemone whispered.

“I’m not,” the Gem God said. “But in the case that they’re close, I just might. Getting to me is hard, but not impossible. There is a chain of events beyond tedious. But me inhabiting your mind is the second to last link in that chain. Taking this amulet is the last.”

Blood settled down back to Anemone. They saw that she was calm, following her lead.

“Then why inhabit my mind at all?” Anemone asked.

“Because they still have a power that might completely undermine my own. One day, I may have to call on you to stop it. You may be the only one who can.”

She wanted a purpose, not a boulder on her shoulder. She had to stop something as powerful as a god? Something Soulsmithed with a power of their own?

“You’ll kill me if they get close?” Anemone asked. She needed to make sure.

The Gem God shook his head. “No, only if they get close and you can’t possibly stop them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because even I am unsure. Their existence is questionable. But if they do and perceive themselves as gods, I don’t see them not hunting this amulet.”

I don’t like this, Blood said to her. We can kill him, I know we can. If he dies, we can hide this power ourselves.

Anemone shook her head to the Gem God’s confusion. He knew much more than herself, and his information and insight could be invaluable. Besides, she didn’t know how to work the tool of a god; she barely knew how to read a book.

“You shouldn’t worry about godly problems or concerns,” the Gem God said. “You should just worry about staying alive. You are doing fine as it is. I’ll let you know if any real trouble arises. In the meantime, you should be excited. You’re about to reunite with Ranun and Calace for the first time.”

Anemone understood the Gem God was trying to manipulate her. He wanted her mind off of all that he had just said. But… she did look forward to seeing them again. They had a warmth to them that Kinler did not. A familiarness and welcoming. Smiles that soothed her.

Her memories here didn’t transfer well into her conscious state, but her feelings from there persisted here.

Her vision blurred, and for the first time this week, she didn’t dream about the past. She looked to the future. Uncertainty all around, but at least this dream was a warm one.