Kalden opened the glass door to the alchemy lab, ushering the others inside. The room wasn't half as nice as his labs back home, but it had all the essentials. A dozen basic stations filled the floor, with a row of refrigerators along the back wall. Beyond that were more specialized rooms that housed the furnaces and compressors.

Bits of broken glass snapped beneath Kalden's boots, and he resisted the urge to grab a broom. Mr. Kosho would have made the whole class stay late if they'd left that mess behind.

A week ago, Kalden had assumed his alchemy skills would be useless here, but he'd quickly realized the truth of things. Arkala might be years behind the outside world, but Creta had the same problem. It was worse in many ways because the Dragonlord restricted education to his own supporters.

Then again, Kalden had belonged to the ruling class back home, so maybe things weren't so much better there. They certainly hadn't been for Akari.

He stopped at his usual station and gestured for Akari and Relia to sit on the padded stools. Then he set up his portable sound suppressor, forming a dome of transparent mana around them.

"Okay," he said to Relia. "We're listening."

"Right." She fidgeted with her red braid. "Just thinking of how to word this."

Kalden gave an encouraging nod as he fell into the seat across from them. Three hours had passed since their skirmish on the ferry, but privacy was scarce in Liberta territory. The barracks, mess hall, and rooftops were all packed at this hour, and they couldn't step outside without their fake marks drawing attention.

Several long seconds passed, then he and Akari shared a look. Relia continued running a finger along the length of her braid, avoiding their eyes.

"Sorry," she said. "I've never told anyone about this."

Akari raised an eyebrow. "Even Elend?"

She shook her head. "Elend and his wife know. So did my last teacher. But I never told them."

"Sorry if we're missing something obvious," Kalden said. "We wouldn't be asking if it wasn't important."

"I know. I should have told you guys a long time ago." She grasped the edge of the table, and her knuckles turned even whiter than usual.

"You know how channels are mostly metaphysical?" she said. "The mana is there, and you can feel it. But it's also not there?"

Kalden nodded again. There wasn't room for actual mana channels in a human body, so they existed mostly in the spiritual realm. Only techniques like Missiles brought the mana fully into the physical world.

"Sometimes," she continued, "my mana crystalizes in my channels, and it takes all my focus to stop it. That's why I collapsed on the ferry tonight. And that's why my mark disappeared. I couldn't cycle any mana to my head."

Crystalizing mana and blocked channels. That sounded familiar ... but no, this couldn't be the same condition.

Relia reached in her purse and pulled out the small metal box, opening it for them both to see. The pill inside was as big as her thumb, and it shone with pale blue light. That was typical for alchemy. Still, his eyes focused on the swirling patterns beneath the pill's surface, and his blood froze.

A shardbreaker. Clearly the work of a master alchemist—someone far beyond Kalden's level. These weren't even supposed to exist anymore, but there it was.

"I can cycle this," Relia told them. "And it stops my mana from crystalizing. For a few weeks, at least. "

"Okay," Akari said. "So what's the big deal? Sounds like it's not your fault."

"Krustoplegia," Kalden whispered.

Relia's head snapped up. "You know about this?"

"Huh?" Akari glanced back and forth between them. "You guys wanna fill me in?"

"Sorry." Kalden gestured to Relia. "I shouldn't have interrupted."

"No." She held out her hands as if to push him back. "You tell her."

Damnit. Kalden was about to protest, but could he really deny her that request, knowing what he knew?

"I've read things," he said. "But they can't all apply to you. Clearly, you're—"

"They apply to me," Relia said. "I've trained my whole life to fight it. That's why I seem fine."

Akari tapped her fingers on the table. "For Talek's sake, someone spit it out."

In that moment, Kalden felt a hint of what Relia must have felt when they'd first sat down. How did you explain something like this?

The answer was simple—you couldn't soften the blow. You just had to say it.

"The crystals get stronger over time," Kalden said. "It leads to permanent paralysis. Most people with krustoplegia die before they reach puberty. As far as I know, no one's ever lived past eighteen."

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"Oh." The impatience drained from Akari's face, and she looked as cold as he felt.

"The doctors thought I'd never even walk," Relia said. "That's why my parents shipped me off." Her brow furrowed, and her next words poured out in a rush. "It was their fault, you know. They took soulshine to advance quicker, but they kept it a secret. I got all the side effects when I was born."

Well, that explained why she hated soulshine. He'd already known Relia was an orphan, but he'd assumed her parents were dead. This sounded more like they'd abandoned her.

"My first master told me all this," she continued. "But we couldn't prove it. No one can force Grandmasters to take a DNA test. Not without evidence."

"But you're okay," Akari said. "The doctors were wrong."

"Life arts," Relia said. "It's the whole reason I chose this aspect. My Cloak heals the damage from the crystals. And it lets me take pills with higher toxicity. I also reached Apprentice early. That gave me almost a full year with no symptoms. The crystals still formed, but they weren't strong enough to hurt my body."

"But what about the crystals themselves?" Kalden asked. "Even if you heal the damage ..."

"I learned to break them down."

He frowned. "How do you break down crystals inside your own body?" For a moment, he felt a tinge of hope. If she could do that, then maybe she'd survive.

"It's all my mana," Relia said, "so it responds to my intention. Normally, only a Master can do that, but I had plenty of motivation to learn it early."

"Sounds like you have a plan," he said.

"It's worked for this long, but it won't work forever. I've learned to accept that. My old master had this whole plan for me. Apprentice by fifteen. Artisan by eighteen. Master by twenty-one ..."

"Master by twenty-one." Akari leaned forward, putting her elbows on the countertop. "Is that possible?"

"It's been done before," Relia said. "But they were all freaks of nature."

"But your old master thought you could do it," Kalden said.

Relia shrugged. "She was obsessed with living forever. Lots of Mana Artists are like that. But Elend taught me there's more than just living for tomorrow. It never comes, after all."

Kalden let out a long breath as he sank back in his seat. How long did Relia have, then? She'd implied that advancement would delay her symptoms, but she also had more than a thousand mana points to go until she reached Artisan. Kalden didn't know the exact numbers, but things looked grim in that regard.

Unfortunately, they had an even bigger problem now.

"You only have one pill left," Kalden said.

Relia nodded. "We left Korelden with a whole case of these—half a year's worth. We thought we'd prepared for the worst ..." She trailed off, then shook her head. "It's been almost two weeks since my last one, but it hasn't been this bad in years." She patted the metal box on the table. "I figure I have a few more days before I need this."

That didn't sound so bad. But what if they were stranded in Creta for longer than they'd expected? Kyzar had promised them access to a computer, but there were no guarantees their message would reach Elend's wife. Even if it did, how long would it take her to round up the Espirian military? These things didn't just happen overnight.

Relia had been anxious to keep moving, and now he knew why. It must be terrifying to have your body destroy itself from the inside. That was an enemy you couldn't flee or fight.

At least, not with Mana Arts.

"What if I made you another shardbreaker pill?"

Relia gave him a sad smile. "I appreciate the thought, but this is advanced stuff. You need—"

"I made one for my capstone project in school," Kalden interrupted.

"Wait, seriously? People had this condition in the Archipelago?"

"No, I just picked the hardest recipe in the book."

She snorted. "You would do that, wouldn't you?" Then her face brighten as realization dawned on her. "And you succeeded?"

Kalden considered that. When most people thought of alchemy, they imagined hard lines between success and failure. That's how it always happened in movies—either the pill shone like a golden coin, or it blew up in the alchemist's face. Real-life was more complicated.

His earliest pills had been disasters, with the bioactive chemicals failing to bond with the plant's materials. In those cases, the pill would never pass from her stomach to her channels. But his final attempts were issues of toxicity—a success by academic standards, even though it would kill a real patient.

Fortunately, Relia's Life Cloak could handle the poison. He just had to stop the mana from crystalizing.

"I can do it." He gestured to their surroundings. "I already have the tools."

"What about the recipe?"

"Memorized." He tapped the side of his head.

"The materials?" she asked. "They won't have those sitting in the fridge."

"We can buy them," he said. "We can use the money we saved from negotiating."

Relia's eyes widened. "You said you gave that back to Kyzar!"

"Someone convinced me to save it for a rainy day." He shot Akari a smile. "We can buy the stuff tomorrow, then I can have a pill done by Kelsday."

"Wow." Relia blinked. "Just like that?"

"I'm not saying it'll be easy," Kalden said. "I'd have to miss training. And probably some sleep, but it's definitely possible."

Relia's shoulders sagged with relief, and her lips curled up at the edges. "Now I feel like an even bigger idiot for not telling you guys sooner."

"It's only been a few weeks," Kalden said.

Then again, this was partially on him, too. He'd known her pills related to her condition, but he hadn't wanted to pry. In hindsight, he could have at least asked some basic questions. He was still used to living as a high school student—a life with clean-cut problems that mostly resolved themselves.

A short silence passed between them after that. With the current crisis under control, they had no choice but to look toward the future. A future that might not involve Relia.

They'd only been traveling together for a few weeks, and he'd hardly call them close. On the contrary, he and Relia seemed to argue about everything. But they'd already been through so much, and he'd imagined them all attending Koreldon University together. They'd even talked about forming a team for the inter-school arena matches.

But now ... how much time would she really have? Years? Months?

Akari inched her hand across the table and rested it on top of Relia's. The gesture seemed a little awkward coming from her. But that made it more meaningful.

"Grandmaster by twenty-one?" Akari said. "Sounds good to me."

"Master," Relia said with a choked-out laugh. "Grandmaster comes after that."

She shrugged and glanced around the table. "Still seems like a solid goal. And three's a nice number."

Relia's eyes misted at that, and she gave her usual broad smile. "You don't even know what you're saying, do you?"

"Not a clue," Kalden answered for her. "But that's never stopped us before."

Akari nodded. "People told me I'd never be a Mana Artist."

"Much less advance," Kalden added. "At least we know this goal is possible."

Relia drew in a long breath. "It gets harder the higher you climb. Much harder. There are only three Masters in this entire country."

That gave Kalden pause. But no ... it wasn't their fault they couldn't advance. The Dragonlord was hoarding resources and knowledge here, just like the Martials had done back on Arkala. But how high could these people climb with an equal chance? How high could he and his friends climb?

"One step at a time," he said. "But whatever it takes, we'll get through it together."