“Akari!” Someone shook her by the shoulder, and she snapped her eyes open. Sweat covered her body, and her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. Her Mana Arts were gone. Her memories were gone. And—

But no, she felt the power in her channels, flowing as fast as her beating heart. She felt the memories too, from Last Haven to Arkala to Creta.

Akari lifted her wrist and glanced at her mana watch.

73/73. Silver. Exactly where she’d been before.

Still, she had to be sure. She gathered mana in her opposite palm and thrust a Missile across the room. She’d meant to form a Construct next, but the speed of her cycling sent the mana straight through the wall. A cloud of dust erupted from a fist-sized hole.

“Hey.” Someone touched her shoulder again, and Akari flinched away.

“It’s me,” he repeated. “It’s Kalden. You’re safe.”

Akari let out a breath, shifting her head to meet his eyes. They were back in the hotel room now. She lay in the bed, and Kalden sat beside her. He must have carried her back when she passed out.

Her eyes burned as she stared back at the hole she’d made. Talek. How crazy did she look right now?

“S-sorry.” Her voice broke, and she barely recognized the sound. A dozen different emotions fought for dominance inside her.

First, she felt indescribable relief, as if she’d been buried alive and someone had just pulled her out. That Mystic’s technique had been so powerful, she’d been sure it would affect her in the present day. She thought she’d lost her powers and her friends. She thought she’d have to go back to living as a Bronze on Arkala.

But of course, that was no ordinary nightmare. She couldn’t wake up and escape it. Her entire sect had been destroyed—erased from the planet’s surface. Worst of all …

“It’s okay.” Kalden reached out and touched the back of her hand. He moved slowly as if he expected her to flinch away or attack him. Hard to blame him for that.

Their fingers intertwined a heartbeat later, and tears flowed down her cheeks as she squeezed his hand.

“It’s not.” Akari used her free hand to remove her glasses and rub at her eyes. “It’s not okay.”

“You had another dream,” Kalden said. “What happened?”

Talek. How could she put it into words? Then again, she couldn’t keep it bottled up either. She’d tried that before, and it felt like being caught in an infinite loop. Besides, Last Haven had been Kalden’s home too. He deserved to know the truth. He wouldn’t be holding her hand right now if he knew.

“Do you remember our last fight?”

He paused. “I don’t—”

“A team match.” She struggled to form words past her ragged breaths. Her hands shook despite the room’s heat, and her teeth chattered. “Random teams—ended with me and Maelyn against you. I aspected my mana—made a portal and stabbed you. It was the only fight you ever lost.”

Another pause, longer than the first. “I remember.”

Akari tried to speak again, but she broke into a fit of coughs as her tears ran down her throat. She rolled onto her side, facing away from him.

“It’s okay.” The mattress shifted as Kalden scooted closer behind her. He moved some hair from her eyes and brought his lips to her hairline. Akari ground her teeth together, and the tears flowed harder than before. Her mother used to kiss her like that.

“It’s not,” Akari repeated.

“The memory’s fuzzy for me.” Kalden kept stroking her hair. “I never saw this part in my dreams.”

“There was a man in the sky.” Akari said. “A Mystic. He showed up after our duel. He …”

“Filled the sky with black mana,” he finished for her.

“Yeah.”

“He sent us to the Archipelago,” Kalden continued. “All of us.”

So, he did remember. Akari curled into a ball, gathering her thoughts. The explosions grew even louder outside as the Grevandi advanced toward their hotel. Light flashed between the gaps in the curtains, and her chest shook from the impact of the blasts.

All the while, images of her enemy remained burned in her vision like a flash of lightning—a solid black silhouette against the pale sky. He’d hidden his face, just like he’d hidden his name in the diner.

Talek. Who was that? People were terrified of Relia, but at least she left evidence of her battles behind. What sort of aspect could erase someone from existence? And why had he imprisoned them instead of killing them?

But there was an even bigger problem … something she’d avoided until now. This Mystic hadn’t just attacked their sect out of nowhere. Someone had betrayed Last Haven and led him there.

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Her father had known that from the second he’d seen her aspect. He hadn’t cared about the aspect itself. He only cared about the price she’d paid.

“It was my fault.” Akari choked and clenched her teeth again. “I’m the reason this happened.”

~~~

Relia ran down three flights of stairs into the hotel lobby, moving past the crowds who’d gathered there. The room was two stories high, with balconies and wooden supports running along three walls. Glass windows had covered the outer wall before. Now, those were reinforced with wooden boards, sheet metal, and Constructs of protection mana.

Before today, the Unmarked had patrolled the streets like battle-hardened veterans. They’d stared defiantly at the Dragonlord as he flew over the city, and they’d watched the news with cold indifference whenever the Wings appeared.

Now, the soldiers shifted and fidgeted as they waited for the battle. Some told jokes while others reacted with forced laughter. The fear was thick enough to taste. These guys had seen street skirmishes, but never a proper war. Somehow, their fear made Relia calmer. It was like they’d left an empty vacuum, and her own subconscious hurried to fill it.

Hearing Kyzar’s voice in her headset helped too. Relia had spent most of the past year alone. Either that, or she’d been defending weaker Artists like Akari and Kalden. Not to mention all the ones who’d died in the prison on Arkala.

For once, she didn’t have to worry about the big picture. She just had to do her part—heal whoever she could, and bait the Artisans when Kyzar gave the order. Strangely enough, following orders and being part of a team was all she’d ever wanted.

The crowd parted for Relia as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. Armor covered her body from head to heel, but her pale face would be clear through her visor. Not to mention her red braid that stuck out the back.

The Unmarked still didn’t accept her, but they were too pragmatic to waste her skills. That was fine, though. Akari and Kalden were her friends, and that was enough.

Unless something happened to them tonight. Then she’d be alone again. Her chest tightened at the thought, and her stomach did somersaults. So much for that nice calm feeling she had before.

Thanks a lot, brain.

The sounds of fighting drew closer as the Grevandi approached. Of course, those sounds had been getting louder for the last hour, so that wasn’t saying much. Relia craned her neck and saw a glimpse of blue light farther down the street. Dozens of Missiles flew from the balconies and windows above, along with bullets and grenades. Meanwhile, the Grevandi pressed forward behind their shield wall, returning Missiles along the way.

As usual, both sides tried to make the other waste more mana, favoring battery-powered weapons and shields, keeping their real techniques in reserve. Relia’s teachers had compared it to the first ten moves of a crowns game where both players fought for small gains across the board.

“They’re getting close,” a voice said in Relia’s earpiece

“It’s the sweepers,” Kyzar replied in his gravely voice. Was it weird that she found his voice attractive? Probably. He was twice her age, not to mention half dragon.

Yeah … better keep that to herself.

“Snipers, take a shot if you get one. No one else engage.”

Relia squinted and saw that Kyzar was right. The Unmarked had trapped the roads with landmines and caches of toxic mana, and the Grevandi sent smaller groups ahead to deal with those.

And yes, everyone was cool with using toxic mana, but life mana was evil. Why? Because people were jerks and hypocrites.

Several heartbeats passed, then gunshots fired from the windows above. It seemed like the snipers worked in pairs. One aimed for the landmine directly, and the blast knocked out the enemy’s shields. Then the second sniper took the killing blow.

The Grevandi who died were only Foundations.

Azul’s ashes. Relia never could have sacrificed people like that. She didn’t even like trading her pieces during crowns, and those were just wooden figurines.

Then again, she always lost at crowns.

Another minute passed, then the bulk of the Grevandi stepped into firing range. Rows of soldiers led the way, followed by tanks and armored vans.

Blasts of blinding light followed as the Unmarked engaged on Kyzar’s command. Fire Artists struck in a dozen different ways. Some melted the road itself, while others worked with Wind Artists to hurl clouds of burning sawdust into their ranks.

Meanwhile, Ice Artists froze the enemy vehicles in place, and Stone Artists hurled bricks and boulders. But still, the Grevandi advanced, countering every tactic with Artists of their own.

“This is it,” Kyzar told Relia over a private channel. “Get your Death Missiles ready.”

“Copy that,” she replied, forming several small clouds of life mana around her body. These clouds weren’t lethal yet, but the Unmarked soldiers still gave her a wide berth as she worked.

Then—just like before—Relia encased the clouds in spheres of pure mana, making them more mobile. These techniques would grow weaker every second, but Kyzar knew that. He must have something planned.

Her earpiece buzzed with more chatter as the officers spoke. Unfortunately, it was all gibberish to Relia. Even when they spoke Espirian, she still got lost in all the code phrases and local slang.

“You good, spira?” Kyzar’s voice again.

“Good,” Relia said as she sealed off her techniques.

“Watch for the truck,” he said. “Then aim for the gap.”

She hesitated, glancing from side to side. “Did you say ‘truck?’”

Just then, the trailer of a semi-track fell from the sky, straight for the Grevandi vanguard. Relia hadn’t seen how they’d done it, but that was probably the idea.

The trailer crashed into the enemy line, darkening a portion of the blue shield wall.

Ouch.

They could counter mana and bullets all day, but how did you stop a ten thousand pound trailer? And it was about to get worse.

The Grevandi scrambled to fill the gap, but they weren’t quick enough. Relia raised her techniques and hurled them forward with bursts of pure mana. They tore straight through the opening, exploding behind the enemy ranks.

Kyzar had planned for maximum impact, and dozens died screaming over the next minute. This tore their ranks into chaos, and the Unmarked seized the advantage. Their attacks came in every color imaginable, from red flame to pale blue ice. A blade of metal mana sliced one dragon in two, spilling his insides over the road. Stone Artists threw more boulders and bricks, caving in skulls and ribcages.

One dragon stood his ground and struck back with a wave of fire mana. Two dozen techniques shattered in midair, erupting into clouds of dust and mist.

Artisan.

He stepped ahead of the shield wall, heedless of the bodies at his feet, and the mana flying around him Then he rounded on the hotel, pinning Relia with his gaze. His reptilian eyes burned with primal rage as more flames gathered around his hands.