Dream Akari stomped out of the dueling ring, ignoring the crowd with their satisfied grins. Before today, she'd been the top Foundation duelist in Last Haven. Now, her reign was over. This duel with Kalden Trengsen hadn't been ranked, but she'd have to face him again. When she did, she had no answer to his blade mana.

Her combat suit clung to her as she walked, and her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. She'd lost duels before, but those had all been against older, Apprentice-level students. Students with Cloak techniques and seemingly endless wells of mana.

Kalden Trengsen had neither of those things. Instead, he'd fought with machine-like precision, controlling every molecule of mana around him.

More practice wouldn't close a gap that wide. She needed an aspect.

Akari followed the cobblestone path from the high school toward the town proper. The afternoon crowds spilled off from the sidewalks, filling half the road. There weren't many cars here, but that didn't matter. Most houses sat within a few miles from town, and people had no trouble crossing the sect on foot.

Her route took her through the main square where she passed a library, a post office, and a taller structure that was probably the town hall. No chapel though. Weird. Maybe they weren't fans of the Angels around here?

Eventually, the sidewalk split off from the main road, winding through a forest that divided her neighborhood from the main town. The trees here were all thin skeletons, and small snowdrifts clung stubbornly in the deeper ravines. The thin foliage offered a perfect view of the snow-covered mountains beyond.

Talek. And she trained in this place all day, with no Martials or Dragonlords trying to kill her? Talk about paradise.

But Dream Akari barely glanced up from her shoes. Instead, she kept clenching her fists and muttering about the injustices of the world.

The forest went on for another half-mile until the path rejoined the sidewalk in her neighborhood. From there, she walked two more blocks and stepped through her front door.

Finally. She'd been waiting for this moment since Elend told her the truth about her parents. This was her chance to see her mother's face after so many years. This was her chance to see Mazren Clifton as her real father rather than her foster parent.

The wooden blinds were half-slanted inside the house, and rays of sunlight speared through the gaps. A pot of broth simmered on the stove, and the scents of soy sauce and garlic wafted through the air.

Emiri slid her slender frame beside Mazren as he drained a basket of noodles in the sink. They moved in perfect synchrony as they worked, like two Mana Artists on a battlefield.

Mazren looked the same as he had on Arkala. But while her foster father had always seemed tired and slumped, this man looked lively and energetic. Not to mention more physically fit—almost like a younger version of Elend.

Akari had barely remembered her mother's face until this moment, but now a hundred memories flooded her mind. Emiri's dark eyes seemed to smile behind a pair of black-framed glasses. She laughed at something Mazren had said, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his ear.

Mazren grinned back at her, putting his left hand around her waist. His other hand held a long pair of wooden chopsticks, arranging the noodles into three bowls. Emiri ladled the broth on top, followed by half-boiled eggs and slices of grilled pork belly.

Dream Akari just rolled her eyes as she kicked off her boots in the doorway.

"Hi, honey." Her mother waved at her as she passed under the archway into the kitchen. "We made your favorite."

Talek. Real Akari thought she might cry. But of course, her past self was indifferent. She didn't know how fragile and short this life would be. That dissonance between them almost caused the dream to fade.

No. Don't you dare wake up. This moment was too perfect to end. Real Akari let her own thoughts and emotions drift to the background, taking in every detail of the scene.

Mazren finished off the ramen bowls by arranging some mushrooms and chopped green onions in the corners.

Akari grabbed a random bowl and headed straight to her bedroom.

Mana passed her cheek as she walked, flattening into a Construct that blocked her path. She blinked as her bedroom doorway become a portal that led straight back to the dining room.

"You know," Mazren said. "It's more fun to eat together."

Akari glared at him, and she stepped through the portal Construct as if it were an ordinary doorway. Bad enough they didn't let her aspect her mana— now her father flaunted his Spatial Arts in her face?

She slammed her bowl on the table, sending droplets of broth on her bamboo placemat. "Can I at least change my clothes first?"

He nodded and made a casual wave at his Construct. It vanished to mist behind her.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"I'll keep your food warm." A transparent Missile left Emiri's hand, forming into a dome-shaped Construct over her placemat.

Akari took her time changing as if she could punish her parents by making them wait. Of course, her stomach growled several times, and she was obviously just hurting herself. She literally had a perfect life here, but she didn't appreciate any of it.

And I'm supposed to sync up with this girl? How? By acting like a spoiled brat all day?

A thousand years later, Dream Akari returned to the table and plopped herself down in the cushioned chair. Emiri waved a hand over her bowl, and time flowed backward inside her Construct. The steam seemed to fall rather than rise, bubbles reformed and sank, and the oils twisted in a fast, chaotic pattern over the broth's dark surface.

Time mana?

Her past memories confirmed her thoughts a second later. Temporal Artists like her mother could make pocket dimensions and freeze time at a particular moment. Basically, it was like making a save point in a video game, and that save point rejoined the world when the Construct broke.

Was Akari training to use one of these aspects? That might explain the delay,

"How was your duel?" Mazren asked.

Akari grabbed a piece of pork belly with her chopsticks and brought it to her mouth. "Now you care?"

"I care about you."

She bit into the pork, letting the sweet and sour taste fill her mouth.

"How's Kalden?" He asked to fill the silence. "We haven't seen him since he left for Shoken."

"We didn't talk much. He had a good aspect though." She took another bite. "Wonder what that's like."

"We've been over this." Her mother sat down her chopsticks with a heavy sigh. "Aspecting is a delicate process, and—

"Seemed easy enough for the others in my grade," Akari said. "I'm literally the last one left."

"Most of your class has lower tier aspects." Mazren gestured between himself and Emiri." Ours are tier four on the abstraction scale. Combining them will be an even bigger risk."

"Well," Akari said. "I didn't ask to be your science experiment, did I?" She chewed her noodles and swallowed. "What if I just take one aspect? What if I don't combine them?"

Her mother let out a long breath, leaning forward. "You're so close, Akari. There are others like us out there, but no one's ever done spacetime mana."

Akari rolled her eyes. "Maybe there's a reason for that."

"Combining two aspects is hard," Mazren agreed. "You need a teacher from each original aspect. No one else in history has had your opportunities. And most people your age aren't as patient or hardworking as you."

Akari matched his smile with a glare. "How much longer?"

"Keep training," her mother said, "and you could be ready when you're sixteen."

"No." Akari slammed her spoon into her bowl. "That's too long. I'll be Apprentice by then."

"That's the idea. The risks decrease with every rank."

"Great," Akari said. "Then why not wait until I'm a gray-haired Mystic?"

"Diminishing returns." Her mother's voice grew more patient with every exchange, and that seemed to piss off Dream Akari even more. "Your father and I both waited to aspect our mana."

"Yeah." Akari glanced around their house as if she expected something more. "And look where it got you."

"I told you." Mazren shot his wife a meaningful look. "We never should have painted the dining room blue."

"I'm being serious," Akari snapped.

"Well," he said, "now you know how it feels when someone goes on an irrelevant tangent."

"You're saying my dueling doesn't matter?"

"I believe it matters to you now," he replied. "But you'll have this aspect forever."

"I lost to Kalden Trengsen today." She met each of their eyes as if it were some earth-shattering revelation. "And he's still a Foundation like me. I can't fight in the Apprentice leagues without an aspect. I'll be the worst duelist there. I know you think I'm stupid, but I'm thinking ahead. Falling behind now puts me behind in university. That hurts my chances of entering the Grandmaster's Tournament."

Mazren nodded along. "You're imagining one possible path to success. That doesn't prove it's the only way. Or even that it will work."

"Look at any famous Artist," Akari said. "They all started young."

"But ninety percent of Mystics aspected in their late teens," he said. "They weren't child prodigies. They were people who faced hardship and conquered it—driven forward by their pain and their failures. That's what we're trying to teach you."

"Ninety percent," Akari echoed. "You're making that up."

"The Koreldon Journal of Advancement," Emiri said with a smile. "Page twenty-two, paragraph one."

Mazren held up his napkin and pointed it toward the living room coffee table. His mana moved in a Circuit technique, and the journal appeared in his hand a second later. And of course, the napkin would take its place on the coffee table. Spatial techniques had a high mana cost, but you could reduce that loss by altering fewer parameters. That meant it was cheaper to swap two similar objects than it was to move a single object.

He set down the journal in front of her, opening it to the page her mother had mentioned. Akari didn't bother reading it.

"You're angry because you lost a duel," Emiri said. "We don't make life-altering decisions when we're angry."

"Then when?" Akari said. "You know I could handle a single aspect now. Either space or time. We have all the artifacts in the house right now. If you just show me how—"

"When you're sixteen," her mother said. "And if our theory is right, then space and time are each two halves of a single aspect. Your Spacetime Art might be stronger than both of ours combined."

"Doesn't help me today," Akari said. "What's the point of being stronger if I have to wait forever."

"This aspect will help you succeed in life."

"Like you?" she retorted. "Maybe that's not what I want. Ever think of that?"

Her mother sighed. "Can you trust us, Akari? Can you trust that we know what's best for you in the long run?"

"No." Her chair skitted against the wooden floor as she pushed it back. "You don't trust me, so why the hell should I trust you?"

~~~

Akari opened her eyes and found herself lying in the Unmarked barracks. Once again, it was early in the morning, and the light hadn't yet risen outside. She rolled over on her back, breathing hard.

"Dream Akari, you ungrateful little bitch."

Tears stained her pillow, and more ran down her cheeks. With Talek as her witness, she would give up all her Mana Arts right now if she could go back to that moment.

Her parents had been married in that life, taking care of her, and training her to receive a new, original aspect. Possibly one of the strongest aspects in the world. She couldn't imagine a better life if she tried.

But Dream Akari had lost one duel, then acted like Missiles were raining from the sky. Did she realize she could have been imprisoned on an island with her memories wiped and her powers stolen? Did she realize she'd have to risk her life on a daily basis?

Akari lay there for several long heartbeats, but she didn't feel like sleeping anymore. She put on her glasses, got dressed, and headed for the rooftop to train.

Her mother was dead, but Mazren was still alive. His memories were locked away, and he was trapped in a world that wasn't his own.

I'm coming back for you, Akari thought. Whatever it takes.