Elend stepped out of the captain's chamber and followed his wife down the airship's pristine white corridor.

He'd sworn to leave Creta as soon as possible, and his oath had compelled him to pass that onto Irina when she landed. Fortunately, they'd needed time to refuel the ship's gravity mana, and that was out of Elend's control. So he’d spent his last hour cleaning up the mess and getting the casualty reports.

Kyzar and Valdez had both survived the battle, but Elend had spotted Hector's body among the fallen. That was too bad—he'd liked the lad well enough. True, he'd left the kids alone on that bridge, but he'd been raised to fear Relia's aspect, and people rarely changed in a few short weeks. That was why civil wars happened in the first place. Both sides had opposing values, and each refused to give ground.

Elend was partially to blame for the fighting as well. Even now, the world felt the ripples of his capture by the Arkala State Martials. One mistake at this level—even with the best intentions—and thousands could die. Hector was just one of many.

He and Irina passed another open bedroom as they walked, and he glimpsed the three kids spooning on the bed. Actually, no. "Spooning" was the wrong word here. It looked more like a mana storm had hit the silverware drawer.

Kalden lay stretched out on his stomach with his broken hands nowhere in sight. Akari sprawled halfway on top of him while Relia cuddled up behind her. Everyone still wore the same clothes from the battle, but at least they'd taken their boots and armor off before they'd passed out.

Akari and Kalden had both advanced, synthesizing their minds with their past selves just as he'd told them. He'd gotten the short version of the story, and Akari's dreams were the most interesting by far. Especially the aspect she'd been striving for.

Spacetime. People had been attempting that for decades, but they'd always failed. Now, Akari might actually have a chance. She’d used space mana during the battle, but only from a bottle. Her soul was still a pure canvas, ready to be changed.

Did that make the trip worth it? He doubted even the Angels could answer that question.

The hallway split, and Elend and Irina went their separate ways. She headed toward the cockpit while he stepped into the common area. It was a wide, oval-shaped room with a bar in the middle and several plush sofas surrounding it. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominated one wall, revealing a vast sea of white clouds beyond. A sixty-inch TV hung on the opposite wall, showing the airship's current location on a digital map.

Lena Cavaco sat at the bar, sipping some clear beverage, garnished with a lime wedge. Instead of her usual long dress, she'd opted for dark jeans and a sleeveless white top.

The cultist glanced up as Elend approached. "There you are, Espirian."

"Here I am." Elend strolled forward and slid onto the cushioned stool beside her. "Sorry for the delay. I missed my wife."

Lena glanced up at his hair, and her lips curled up at the edges. "I can see that."

Elend caught a glimpse of himself in the bar's narrow mirror. His silver hair stuck out at several random angles as if he'd just woken up. Bloody hell. He needed to get that cut soon. In the meantime, he ran a hand over his scalp, releasing dream mana from his palm and making it look presentable. A year ago, he would have done that without any conscious effort. But Glim was right—all that time in captivity had made him stingy with his mana.

“You got my note?" Elend asked. A rhetorical question, of course. She wouldn't be here if she hadn't gotten it.

Lena nodded and refilled her glass with more of the clear liquor. It looked like agavo, judging by the Cadrian label. Elend considered pouring himself a glass too, but agavo always left his stomach burning for hours. He could dull the effect, but didn't that defeat the whole point of drinking?

“His lordship won't be happy I left," Lena said as she raised her glass to her lips.

"Aye," Elend began, "but I think—"

She held up a hand. "You owe me an explanation first. How did you get the cuffs?"

Elend paused, then formed a sound-proof dome around them. He had no need for secrecy here, but that pesky soul oath wouldn't let him discuss this without precautions. Lena already knew everything, so she didn’t count.

"I did no such thing." He waved at the mirror. "She did."

As always, Glim appeared with impeccable timing. However, the effect was slightly ruined as she tried to balance all five crystal cuffs on her head.

"Lena Cavaco, meet Glimmar Darklight."

"Hi." Glim waved at Lena, causing her five-tiered crown to sway. "I'm his imaginary friend."

Lena glanced from the mirror and back to Elend, raising her thin eyebrows in a question. Questioning his sanity, no doubt.

"For the record," Elend said. "I was ten when I made—"

"Twelve," Glim corrected.

"... And I've been trying to get rid of her ever since."

"He succeeded once," Glim said. "His friends at school were teasing him, so he overreacted by destroying me."

Fifty years later, she still wouldn't let that go. Then again, he'd walked into it this time.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Lena leaned forward. "She's a mana spirit?"

"Hard to say," Elend admitted. "We can’t exactly run tests on the mana spirits of old.“

"But she can act independently," Lena guessed. "Using dream techniques of her own?"

“Yeah.” Glim cleared her throat. “She also has working ears.”

"Sorry." Lena snapped her head back to the mirror. "I didn't mean to be rude."

"No worries.” Glim’s expression turned suddenly cheerful. "I messed with your brain, so we'll call it even."

Elend leaned forward on the bar's polished wooden surface, sending a burst of mana toward the nearest fridge. The glass door swung open, and he began perusing the bottles. "No hard feelings, I hope."

"I wouldn't go that far," Lena said. "But I understand your reasoning."

Elend rotated the bottles with subtle movements of his mana, reading the labels one by one. Finally, one particular bottle caught his eye. Summer Cloak—A Koreldon pale ale with hints of citrus and hot pepper. The bottle flew into his open hand, and he unscrewed the cap.

"I suppose Antano will come after you now?"

"Naturally," Lena said. "I only escaped because no one else knew about the exchange."

"Then let me give you a job. The Dragonlord can't attack anyone who works for me."

"I appreciate the offer, but we both know that won’t stop him.” She eyed the mirror where Glim sat. "It didn't take you two long to find a loophole.”

"He blamed you?" Glim asked. Her tone sounded more offended than concerned.

"I don't know." Lena fingered the black dragon pendant at the base of her neck. "I didn't wait to find out. But I know he has powerful allies—people in your own government."

"Aye." Elend took a drink. "I might know a few of them.”

She mirrored his motion. "I'd be dead within a month if I showed my face in Koreldon."

"Your odds are still better with me," Elend said.

Lena raised an eyebrow. "And how do you calculate those odds, Espirian?"

Well, she had him there. "Then where will you go?"

"Into hiding," she said. "Set me down in Vaslana, and then we're even."

Elend glanced back at the TV on the wall. They were halfway through Vaslana now, but it would take them several hours before they reached Espiria's southern border.

"Are you sure?” he asked. "Stick with us, and you'll have the protection of two Grandmasters."

"Vaslana’s my home,” she said. “And I know it well. Down to the last backwater fishing village. I can lay there low for a few years. And even if your odds are true, I'd rather have my fate in my own hands."

"I suppose I can respect that." A short pause followed, and Elend took another swallow of his drink. "And afterward?"

"You tell me," Lena said. "Your note mentioned a need for my services. I assume this involves your new Etherite?"

“Good guess,” Elend said. “But wrong. I want two things from you, and neither involves the crystal cuffs."

"Indeed?"

Elend smiled. "Have you heard that expression about teaching a man to fish?"

She furrowed her brow. "I can't teach you Ethersmithing."

"Not me." Elend gestured down the hall. "Them."

She followed his gaze. "Your students? None of them are Aeons."

"Someone's confident," Elend said. Then again, her entire craft involved sensing and reshaping Etherite, and an Aeon's soul was made of Etherite. To her, scanning for crystals would be second nature, the same way Mana Artists used their Silver Sight.

"They aren't Aeons yet," Elend said, emphasizing the last word. Then after a short pause, he said, "I trust you're familiar with krustoplegia?"

Lena nodded once.

"Relia was born with it. She claims it's because her parents abused soulshine, but I suspect that was a lie. A lie meant to hide an even deeper secret. Her life may depend on reaching her full potential."

“Who are her parents?” she asked.

Elend shook his head. “That’s not my secret to share, but she might tell you if you ask nicely.”

Lena hummed in consideration. ”And the other two? Do they also come from mysterious bloodlines?“

“Not like hers,” Elend said. "Only time will show their true potential, but I have high hopes for them both.”

"You realize the cost if you fail? When I became an Aeon, I stunted my advancement forever."

"The first time we spoke," Elend began, "you said you wanted to change this world. This is what change looks like. It means doing the things everyone else says are impossible. Taking the risks everyone else is afraid to take."

Lena drained the rest of her drink, eying Glim as she did so. "You said there were two things."

Elend cleared his throat. "I'd like to get in touch with your patrons.”

She laughed. "You might as well ask to meet the Archangel Talek." Then her eyes narrowed when she realized he was serious. "What do you want from the Solidors?"

"On the contrary," Elend said. "It's about what I can do for them. They were in contact with a young couple named Mazren and Emiri Clifton."

"Mazren and Emiri Clifton," Lena tasted the words, then shook her head. "You say those names like I should know them."

"You should," Elend said. "But it's not your fault. Someone's been working hard to make the world forget about them."

"Then enlighten me, Espirian."

"They were training their daughter to be the world's first Spacetime Artist—someone who could help them with their problem."

"What problem?"

Elend grinned. "If you know the Solidors, then you already know the answer."

Lena gave a slow nod, pivoting her head to face the hallway. "Akari is their daughter, isn't she?"

"Aye, she is."

"The girl is weak now. Even if she aspects her mana, it will take years of training to get my patrons' attention."

"She'll need time," Elend agreed. “They all will. But they're also talented and driven. And they'll be studying at the world's best Mana Arts university.”

“That might not be enough,” Lena said.

There was more to it, of course. Akari had been stripped of her power, her memories, and her very identity. Others would have been utterly defeated in her position. Indeed, a quarter-million people had been defeated. Even Akari herself had broken down several times along the way.

Still, some piece of her had rejected defeat. Not only had she and Kalden escaped their prison, but they’d reached back through time and reclaimed the identities they’d lost.

As a teacher, Elend knew that grit was a trait you couldn't teach, and Akari had more than any student he’d ever trained.

But he couldn’t share such dramatic stories with Lena. Not yet, anyway.

“Akari Zeller doesn’t play by the rules,” Elend said with a smile. “Trust me on this. If you plan to defy the Angels someday, you’ll want her on your side.”